Synopsis for Dark Birthright Campaign

Synopsis for Dark Birthright Campaign - Revised 13 December 04

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MAP OF GREYHAWK

PREVIOUSLY:

McNurlen’s End Run & Phil’s Prologue:

Alahandra, Gilthoron, and Nival accompanied Wulfric, Timmy, Kalhil, and Malavoy Against the Giants. With a human foothold re-established, Wulfric was raised to lordship, Timmy became his cohort, and Kalhil departed with Malavoy to explore some sort of magical rite, leaving Alahandra, Gil and Nival to their own devices. The three depart Gyruff and head east, accompanied by a dwarven weaponsmith named Brom, a priestess of Pelor who also wields considerable arcane might named Aislyn, and a Bakluni warrior named Ramezan who carries twin blades.

Deathright: the month of Reaping, High Summer, 592:

As they enter the Gran March, they encounter a band of highwaymen but easily send them on to the next world. Discovering a plague-ridden village, they swear to find a cure and press on to another nearby village, Artaban, where they discover that children have been vanishing in recent weeks. That evening, Nival has a brief encounter with the archmage Shiner, who seems to attempt to teleport the younger mage out of the village but does not succeed.
Pushing on to a small fortress manned by the Kalenal Gali, or Slayers of the Dead, they learn that a band of Nerull cultists, known collectively as “the Harvesters”, has seized control of the fortress and slain its occupants. After the characters have slain the Harvesters, they discover a bloodstained altar in the basement and rescue two people, a child from the village and a captured rogue named Oswulf who pledges to aid them in their battles. Brom returns the child to the village as the other characters investigate Oswulf’s unsettling claims that the Harvesters were seeking an object of dark power believed hidden in nearby ruins.
After a number of encounters with undead creatures, the characters discover a subterranean maze and traverse the numerous traps within, finally coming upon an immense library. Within the library are four deadly warriors who should not be working together: a human Blackguard of Nerull, an orcish Eye of Gruumsh, a human Fist of Hextor, and a human Monk of the Scarlet Brotherhood. Nival is seemingly slain but, impossibly survives; he leaves the encounter with the belief that the Gates of Heaven are barred to him.
After exploring the library, the characters discover the Darklight Codex, a tome of dangerous power, and Cyrus takes it for safe keeping, hoping to turn it over to someone who can destroy it. After recovering from the deadly fight, they press on and encounter Simura, the Lich Queen, who mistakes Nival for her long lost love. A fight breaks out which, compared to the battle in the library, seems ridiculously easy; among Simura’s belongings, Nival discovers a ring of wishes and uses the last remaining wish, instantly transforming himself back to human. The ring, however, twists his desire slightly, turning him into the first Magister of Greyhawk. Alahandra discovers a teleportation circle by accident and finds herself besieged by undead whom she recognizes as the Harvesters slain by the heroes previously. The battle is mostly one-sided, with the characters easily holding their own, though the Harvester leader, now a wight, drains vital life force from Cyrus.
Intent on restoring the monk to proper health, the group returns to Artaban where Alahandra retires to prepare for the magical procedure. Nival interacts with a local bard and regales the minstrel with his life story, naturally slanted in his favor; the following morning, Alahandra corrects certain errors in the bard’s tale.
25 Reaping 592 CY: Realizing that certain components of the spell she means to cast to aid Cyrus are difficult to locate, Alahandra embarks on a mini-quest to acquire them and is finally pointed to a local hermit named Kassali, who may or may not be mad. Leaving Aislyn and Ramezan behind to guard their treasures, the group heads to Kassali’s tower, discovering it near a mire more than half a day from the village of Artaban. To their surprise, Kassali does not appear to be mad and negotiates with the characters to provide the necessary components before agreeing to trade several spells with Nival. He informs them of an unusual thing that appeared recently in the swamp: a bedroom suite seemingly straight out of Artaban’s inn which the characters decide to investigate; on their return trip, they discover that Kassali’s tower appears to have decimated weeks ago by powerful magics. Concerned, they begin the trek back to the village.
Halfway there, fear nearly overwhelms them, driving them to seek cover. Long heartbeats pass as the fear grows to terror; a flight of red dragons, perhaps hundreds strong, passes over them, occasionally strafing fleeing woodland creatures with dragonfire. As the creatures disappear to the east, the heroes try to comprehend what has just happened; no one has heard of a dragon migration before. Nival voices a new fear: perhaps they were fleeing something and if they were in retreat, what could possibly force such powerful creatures into flight.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the months of Reaping and Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

Artaban, they discover, has been devastated by the immense dragonstrike, with most of the villagers dead or badly wounded. The heroes spend the rest of the evening helping the survivors in whatever fashion they can before setting off for Shiboleth in the morning, stopping by the plague-ridden village long enough to determine that it has been scoured clean by dragonfire.
Arriving in the walled town of Shiboleth some days later, the heroes discover that it too has suffered the ravages of the dragon flight, though the decaying corpse of a red in a nearby field is indication that the town did not simply roll over. From an exhausted yet alert guard, they learn that the town is packed with refugees, all fleeing the wrathful dragons. Aislyn and Alahandra, accompanied by Ramezan, make their way to the temple of Pelor where they offer what help they can to the injured and dying.
The rest of the group travels to the Golden Cockatrice, a local gaming hall Oswulf recalls from his previous visits to Shiboleth. Once there, some discoveries are made concerning Oswulf’s previous career as an all-around rogue when he speaks to the bartender, an old friend named Frane. Gilthoron engages a female elf named Laurelendil in conversation, learning that she was in Gyruff until fairly recently and met Wulfric. The conversation reaches a stopping point when indications that she has had relations with Gil’s near criminal twin brother and the elven archer wanders off, noting idly that she attracts Nival’s attention even more quickly. The human Magister flirts back and forth with her for some time before departing the festhall with her.
Oswulf presses for information and learns that the Cockatrice has been experiencing some problems with cheaters; he quickly hires himself out to root out such individuals and drafts Cyrus and Gilthoron for aid. Several hours later, Oswulf finds himself at a high-stakes table and catches the culprit red-handed; naturally, a fight breaks out that ends with the culprit and his associates slain. As the attendants/bouncers move in to clear out the rogues, Oswulf casually pockets a medallion once worn by the leader of the criminals with no one the wiser.
Back at the temple of Pelor, Aislyn and Alahandra dismiss Ramezan, realizing that he would only get in the way, before seeking the head priest of this temple, Father Æthelred, son of Minastir. They discover the priest before an altar, deep in prayer, and join him. Once they’ve established their credentials with him, he reveals a crisis of faith for no less than thrice in the past tenday has a standard raise dead spell failed him and in fact returned the victims as vicious creatures of Unlife. Concerned that the Shining One may have turned away from him or that he insulted his patron in some manner, he has spoken with a friend who happens to be a Cuthbertian priest and discovered that they too have experienced such dismal results. He implores Aislyn and Alahandra to aid him in a new attempt upon the recently slain guard captain Deskryn; though they are wary and hesitant, the two clerics of Pelor agree to stand by him.
The spell appears to work with no flaw that they can detect, apparently restoring Deskryn to life and causing Father Æthelred to celebrate his return to grace in Pelor’s eyes, but a suspicious Aislyn continues to study the restored guard captain, eventually noticing that he has a total lack of reflection. Attempts to relate this information to an oblivious (yet suspicious) Alahandra succeed but alert the unnatural creature; lunging with impossible speed, the creature that was Deskryn seizes Father Æthelred and drinks deeply of his blood. Though Alahandra wields a powerful mace she discovered in Simura’s maze known as Final Rest with devastating results and Aislyn unleashes torrents of magical fire, the creature nearly drains Father Æthelred completely, finally discarding the badly injured priest and leaping for the exit, seemingly impervious to the brilliance of the noonday sun. Magical fire is again brought down upon him and he seems to explode into a fine mist; the threat appears to be stopped though both of the priestesses remain uneasy and concerned.
Ramezan arrives at the Golden Cockatrice heartbeats before the conclusion of the fight between the rogue Cheal and the heroes, but joins them for a hearty meal. Oswulf wanders off to reacquaint himself with old friends, while an old companion of Ramezan’s, whom he knew as Rance the Sly, joins the heroes at their table. The two briefly exchange stories concerning their current situations; Rance, who was a member of an adventuring party, recently survived a deadly ambush by orcish raiders to the north and lost a magical wand he had grown attached to – it is this wand that brings him to the Cockatrice for an old woman is paying him good money to speak of it. The woman arrives and Rance moves off to join her while the characters continue their meal.
As the heroes finish their meal, a still suspicious Cyrus notes that Rance leaves his table with the older woman and makes his way to the privies outside; uncomfortable without knowing why, he makes his way to the door to keep an eye on the man. A mournful and unsettling sound silences the usually festive gambling hall and Gilthoron, who has joined Cyrus at the door, is the first to see horrible creatures descend upon Rance. Man-sized, they appear to be a dreadful combination of wolf and spider and move with uncommon speed. The elven archer needs little motivation to oppose them and unleashes a hail of arrows at terrific speed, dropping one of the instantly with well-placed shots. As the other heroes plunge into the fight, they discover themselves facing unfamiliar fiends from the dark outer planes but are able to beat the hideous creatures back; for Rance, it is already too late – he has succumbed to deadly wounds inflicted by the vile creatures.
Nival wakes from a contented slumber to discover himself alone in the hovel that Laurelendil brought him to; there is no evidence that the lovely elven wench is within, a fact that causes him no small amount of concern. Once he has assured himself that all of his belongings are still present, he moves to investigate what woke him. Outside the hovel, he sees a sight he has never seen before: a flying dog, gleaming with inner light, faces a sinister-looking spyder-fiend. Without hesitation, Nival casts a spell to sap the spyder-fiend’s strength, forcing it to retreat from the fight that it was, until moments ago, clearing winning. Two more of the sinister figures materialize near Nival, apparently gated in by some unknown force. They fall upon the Magister who unleashes his magical might upon them, only to realize that they have innate resistance to his wizardry. Retreating to the hovel, tries several tactics against them, successfully forcing one to flee before finding himself at the mercy of the second. Stuck to the wall by a web sprayed from the creature’s abdomen, he braces for the final blow but the howl of a dog forces the creature to depart abruptly. With some effort, the Magister frees himself from his confines and rejoins his companions at the Cockatrice.
The arrival of the city guard brings another face familiar to Gilthoron and Nival: Sir Bodwell, son of Bodwin, the Knight of the Watch who sent Wulfric (and thus them) on a suicide mission inside Gyruff. The already grim knight now bears a hideous facial scar and a disposition colder than winter’s heart. He does not seem to recognize the elven archer and Nival’s physical alteration is a convenient disguise but the two mutually agree to steer clear of him as much as possible. After a brief discussion, the heroes decide to camp for the night in the now abandoned hovel recently occupied by Nival for his tryst. The following morning, they rise with the dawn and make their way to the temple of Pelor where stories are exchanged. Cyrus announces his intent to discover the identity of the woman who Rance the Sly spoke to in the Cockatrice, revealing that he saw fear in her eyes when the unnatural sound stilled the festhall.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the month of Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

Their duties not yet complete in the temple, Aislyn and Alahandra decline to join the monk in his search for knowledge and Ramezan also declines, revealing that he wishes to honor his slain comrade in a Bakluni grieving ritual. Oswulf remains missing, a fact that no one seems to really notice, but Gilthoron and Nival agree to aid the young monk. Outside the temple, they notice a squad of soldiers escorting a young man through the city; they pause long enough for him to nail a notice upon several poles. According to the notice, the notorious assassin known only as Nightfall has threatened to slay the baron and a substantial reward is posted for his head.
After several hours of speaking with passers-by, the three learn about the presence of a House of Knowledge near the center of the city; manned by bards, sages, and others with much wisdom, the House is quickly decided to be their destination. En route, they have several bizarre encounters, including one in which a young con artist successfully sells false magical scrolls to a naïve Cyrus; Nival, who instantly recognizes the scrolls as fakes, pretends to cast the spell while instead draping the boy with a magical green color in an attempt to teach him a lesson.
At the House of Knowledge, the three learn the name of the old woman: Eudora. According to their most current knowledge, she is at the Great Library conducting secretive research. Gilthoron consults the sages for information concerning the best fletcher in Shiboleth and is directed to a nearby shop called Lover’s Quarrel. He agrees to rejoin Cyrus and Nival at the Great Library and quickly makes his way to the shop where he is pleasantly surprised to discover it containing more than he had hoped for. He emerges, fully restocked with arrows.
Arriving at the Great Library, Cyrus and Nival enter and gradually make their way to the upper floor which is dedicated to arcane studies. Utilizing a smooth demeanor and quick wits, Nival tricks the librarian into revealing Eudora’s job at the House of Knowledge and her home address. The two quickly exit and rejoin Gilthoron before he makes it to the Library. After a brief discussion, they decide to attempt to sell some of the extra gear they have acquired from fallen foes as spoils of war. Additional interactions with the locals points them to a curiously bland building; within, they discover all manner of magical implements and exchange a number of their possessions for others, in the process making a substantial profit.
From the small shop, they make their way to Eudora’s house, ignoring the mild thunderstorm that cracks overhead. Her door is unlocked and, by the state of the house, she has left in a hurry. While Gilthoron searches the room for clues, Cyrus and Nival interact with the locals in an attempt to discern her location, the Magister once more acting as the face man. They learn that the chase has narrowed; she is only a few minutes away. Moving as quickly as they can through the crowded street, they track her down, pausing long enough to gain additional directions.
Cyrus, moving faster than his companions, catches sight of her in animated conversation with a dark clad man; though he seeks to put her ease by acting as if he were an old acquaintance, his eagerness overwhelms him and he blurts out “I’ve been looking for you all day!” With a snarl, the dark man unsheathes a short sword and stabs the woman through the stomach, cursing her as a traitor. As the three quickly close on him, he draws his cloak’s hood up over his head and disappears; Gilthoron and Nival are startled to recognize him as a traveling companion they knew as “Medium Dave” – this makes the cloak that he wears one that allows him to slip into the ethereal plane and make good his escape.
A brief discussion passes and the characters dispatch Cyrus to bring local guards; he discovers two in conversation with several ladies of the night but they sober quickly when word that Nightfall may have struck. The younger of the two is sent to retrieve “the Captain” while the older guard, a sergeant, follows Cyrus to the crime scene and begins to conduct an investigation. Additional guards, including an armored cavalryman who must be the Captain and a spellcaster, join him; once the heroes have their story corroborated by several frightened locals and Nival provides the spellcaster a likeness through magery of Nightfall to replicate, the heroes are thanked for their service and released, though the Captain orders them not to leave the city as of yet for their testimony in the assassin’s case may be necessary.
Daunted by the task of stopping an assassin who can jump into and out of the ethereal plane, the three return to the temple of Pelor, jumping at shadows the entire time. Once the other heroes have been filled in regarding the events of the day, it is decided to seek an audience with the baron in an attempt to put their knowledge at his disposal; Nival, being the most experienced with nobility, suggests approaching a barrister for aid – though it might be expensive, the results are more likely to be successful.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the 5^th and the 6^thof Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

While on the return to the temple of Pelor to coordinate with other members of their party, a pickpocket tries to lift Gilthoron’s purse but the elven archer is much quicker and catches the boy’s hand; after a few moments of consideration, he hangs the boy up on a wooden post by his pants and leaves him there. In the far distance, evidence of a fire is seen but the heroes continue on to the temple, pausing long enough for Nival to purchase some additional magical components at a gemshop; it is during this transaction that he realizes that an inordinately large amount of Furyondian silver is in use in the city.
The barrister they consult is relatively successful; he arranges a meeting between the heroes and the baron’s son, the Honorable Sir Bodwell, son of Bodwin, a prominent Knight of the Watch. Concerned that he might be recognized by Bodwell, Gilthoron remains behind with Ramezan who, as a Baklunish warrior, will draw even more attention. Alahandra, realizing that she has not tithed appropriately to the temple, decides to spend the rest of the day in quiet prayer and contemplation while Oswulf remains mysteriously absent.
The Honorable Sir Bodwell, son of Bodwin, offers them some information concerning the situation. The day earlier, his father woke to discover a black rose entwined around a plain dagger lying on the pillow next to him; Nightfall’s calling card, these two implements are intended to relay that the target has seven days to put his affairs in order before his death. Withdrawing into his keep, Bodwin has tasked the day-to-day affairs of management to his newly returned son and instructed his spymaster to spare no expense in preventing the assassination from succeeding. To that end, Bodwell relates that there are three lawful groups hunting for the assassin in the city but the characters do not inquire about these teams, instead focusing on their potential to aid the baron given their personal knowledge of the assassin. Bodwell reveals to Aislyn that he strongly suspects the spymaster of not doing enough and the characters agree to look into this potential traitor. After the Pelorian priestess suggests that the knight provide them with a way to get word to him quickly, he gives her a passcode and relates that a close ally of his will infiltrate the refugees in the temple to take word to Bodwin.
Back at the temple, the heroes spends some time bickering about tactics and plans, and are unable to determine a course of action that doesn’t involve kicking down doors and beating confessions out of suspects. With the information provided by the baron’s son, they have narrowed the lists of suspects to a mere handful.

The local Thieves Guild tops the list although they are more a band of thugs than a seriously organized group. In the weeks before the Flight of Dragons, the baron had implemented a crackdown on criminal activities and sent several violent thieves to the headsman, including one that is now believed to have been the son of the “guildmaster.”
The Fellowship of Ironmongers, an ironworkers’ union, was recently fined 10,000 gold lions for their part in a bribery scandal that also resulted in the baron stripping lands, titles, and wealth from a nobleman he banished. Nival points out that he saw Shiner enter the Fellowship’s headquarters though he was unable to prove it.
The Merchants’ Consortium has been demanding a lowering of abundant wartime taxes and been rebuffed by the baron without even consideration of the request.
As to the spymaster, they are of differing minds, believing that he has either been compromised and is working for whoever is behind the plot or is simply an incompetent fool who is overwhelmed.
Nival, utilizing his superior intellect, puts forward a theory that he is beginning to piece together: someone is attempting to destabilize the regional government and pin the blame on distant Furyondy, perhaps in an effort to collapse the loose alliance established by many of the kingdoms during the Greyhawk Wars.

Frustrated at their inability to decipher what is going on (and gaining newfound respect for a spymaster’s job), the heroes decide to begin sowing rumors that they know more than they really do in an effort to draw out the villains. At the Golden Cockatrice, Cyrus brags loudly and often that he knows EVERYTHING about Nightfall and is considering selling this information to the city guard.
The following day, the heroes make a trip to the House of Knowledge where Cyrus learns that Eudora the sage was an expert in artifacts of antiquity and that she interacted with a man who the heroes recognize as Nightfall (though he went by Marik) several times over the week before her death. Using the universal tongue-loosener that is gold, Cyrus learns that this “Marik” arranged to acquire copies of city maps to include the rudimentary sewer system. Realizing that it might help to have copies of those maps for himself, he arranges to have a scribe make tracings and dispatch them to the young monk.
The heroes’ plan to fake the baron’s early death meets with a lukewarm reception from Sir Bodwell though he does agree to pass on the suggestion to his father. Their revelation that the assassin had acquired maps of the city is information that the Knight of the Watch did not have before, further putting the spymaster in a bad light. Emerging from their brief audience with the baron’s son, the heroes decide to follow up on their initial suspects, hoping to spur a revelation with their blunt and forceful personalities.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the 6^th and 7^th of Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

Following their audience with Sir Bodwell, the heroes turn their attention to getting a rise out of the potential villains. Their first target is the Fellowship of Ironmongers and they split up into two groups. The first group, consisting of Aislyn, Alahandra, Nival and Ramezan, go in the front door and engage the secretary in conversation; the second group, consisting of an invisible Gilthoron and Oswulf, go in the back way while Cyrus runs cover by picking a fight with the four door guards – a fight that goes very poorly for the union thugs. Inside the Fellowship Hall, Oswulf does what he does best and breaks into a secured office to sort through records; he emerges with very little to show and the heroes regroup, convinced that they have wasted their time.
Deciding to hit the Merchants Consortium later that night, the heroes head for the spymaster’s home; when there is no answer, they decide to break in and look around. Again, Oswulf proves himself to be invaluable when he discovers a journal written in a cypher code and a concealed recess concealed behind a hidden painting of the spymaster and a younger man. Though he searches the strongbox concealed within the recess carefully, Oswulf fails to notice the contact poison on the box’s surface and falls victim to it. Trying to be as circumspect as possible, the heroes rush the poisoned man back to the temple of Pelor and have him restored. Father Æthelred, who is obviously uncomfortable with the actions of the heroes, allows them to use a penitent’s area for a small donation; within, they pop the strongbox and discover a copious amount of Furyondian silver and a deed proclaiming Caleb, son of Donalt, to be the owner of the Golden Cockatrice.
That evening, a recovered Oswulf and Ramezan break into the Merchant’s Consortium building to look around; after spending some time sifting through apparently useless records and the like, Oswulf declares this too as a waste of time and the heroes return to the temple to fashion a plan to locate the thieves’ guild the following day.
With just three days until the assassin is to strike, the heroes begin asking about the thieves guild; most people react with understandable fear but the characters are eventually steered to a shop called Icons on Demand by a scruffy-looking merchant. At the small shop, however, they become convinced that they were sent on another wild goose chase and emerge more than a little frustrated. A young street kid runs into Alahandra and tricks them into watching him “panic” while a second kid lifts Cyrus’ spell component pouch before bolting. The heroes give chase and pursue the thief to a blind alley. Even as they are racing into the alleyway, it quickly becomes apparent that they have walked into a trap.
Dozens of crossbowmen, cloaked and hooded, rise up from concealed locations on the rooftops and level their deadly weapons at the heroes even as an “out-of-control wagon narrows the exit. A man, wearing a wooden mask, indicates a desire to parlay but Gilthoron draws and nocks an arrow, convincing many of the crossbowmen that he is hostile. A rain of crossbow bolts fall upon the heroes; though most glance off of armor or narrowly miss, the few that score solidly are quickly revealed to be poisoned!
Though outnumbered 3-to-1, the heroes turn the tide of the battle in heartbeats. Aislyn unleashes a fireball that kills several immediately, while Gilthoron drops nearly as many with wicked accuracy. Nival sends several acid orbs upon the crossbowmen, killing or incapacitating them, while Ramezan begins to scale the wall. Cyrus badly injures one of the thief leader’s bodyguards, which convinces the masked man to flee through a concealed secret door; as the monk moves to try and break through the door, he leaves Nival exposed to the last of the bodyguards. Wounded nearly unto death, the man shrieks a war cry and charges the Magister, dropping him with a well-placed strike; Alahandra freezes the man in place before he can finish off Nival even as the last of the bodyguards is dropped by a brutal strike from Oswulf. Ramezan finishes his climb only to discover that the living crossbowmen have fled for their lives. Aislyn calls healing upon the unconscious Nival but is startled to discover his wounds healing at an unnatural rate; the Magister wakes with an unusual gleam in his eye and dire portents.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the 7^th and 8^th of Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

While Aislyn and Cyrus fight the raging the fires along with numerous inhabitants of the slums, the other characters turn to different things. Nival charms their prisoner and gets him to spill the beans about the Shiboleth thieves’ guild: there is very little real organization (though it has been increasing in recent weeks) and the “guild” answers to a masked figure known as the Upright Man. They meet at the Golden Cockatrice on a fairly regular basis and no one knows exactly who the U.M. is (which works well for him.)
After an aborted trip to the Cockatrice, the heroes decide to head back to the temple of Pelor where Nival can scry the location of the masked figure known as the Upright Man. With Cyrus and Gilthoron on watch outside the temple, Oerth’s first Magister calms his mind and sinks into the deep meditation required for the taxing spell. An hour passes and he has reached the proper mental state; he reaches out with his powerful magicks and discovers the Upright Man…outside the temple.
The hour passes for Cyrus and Gil fairly slowly, with the former dropping into meditation himself. Even as Nival Thriceborn is discovering that the Upright Man is leading an assault against the temple, Gilthoron Orcbane feels his danger sense kick into action. As dozens of men charge toward the temple, many armored, the elven archer springs into action, loosing four arrows into rapid succession. To his horror, the target does not fall.
At the forefront of the charge is Frane, the bartender from the Cockatrice; he wields a deadly-looking greataxe and, with a single mighty blow, drops Cyrus, very nearly cleaving him in twain. With Gilthoron raining a storm of arrows at the attackers, Nival, Aislyn and a refugee sorceror unleash magical explosions upon the horde, while Ramezan and Alahandra move to defend the panicky refugees. Oswulf, using Nival’s wand of invisibility, disappears and makes his way through the melee to the rear of the battle where he can do the most damage.
In seconds, the streets are slick with blood and ice (unleashed by the sorceror refugee) with Gilthoron continuing to lay down wickedly accurate bowshots. Frane, attacked by both the elven archer and Nival via magic, is dropped after taking far more damage than he should; his glowing axe disappears the moment he hits the ground. Fires begin breaking out in the temple and the true aim of the rogues becomes apparent as they hurl bottles of alchemist’s fire at Pelor’s sanctuary. Ramezan easily cuts down several of the more aggressive fire-throwers as the last of the big guns falls; though they try to flee, most of the bandits are slain as they reach Nival’s optimum range and he unleashes magical hell upon them. The few that do survive quickly disappear into city.
Aislyn attends to the barely living Cyrus, restoring him to a modicum of health with Pelor’s grace; in the process, she cannot help but to notice that someone apparently tried to loosen his backpack where he keeps the Darklight Codex. The refugee sorceror reveals himself to be Jaraes, the onetime secretary for the spymaster (whom he now believes to be in league with Banmer, Lord Clelt.)
Ramezan, furious at Father Æthelred’s apparent cowardice in the battle, calls the elderly Pelor priest on his lack of helpful action, eliciting an equally angry response; with a sharp gesture and a Word of Power, the priest paralyzes the Bakluni in place and orders Aislyn and Alahandra to take the rest of the party away from the House of Pelor. It is obvious that the priest is teetering on doing something everyone will regret and the two younger priestesses quickly agree to his demands.
Nival reveals that he has learned a new spell and, using only raw power, erects a secure shelter atop a burned-out hovel in the slums. Here the heroes can rest and recover. Jaraes, they agree, is the key to breaking the spymaster’s evil plot and bringing the rogue to justice. Despite Nival’s assurance that they are safe within his magical house, they agree to watches and retire to recover.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the 8^th of Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

The following morning dawns and the heroes split into separate groups to accomplish differing goals: Aislyn, Alahandra, and Ramezan take Jaraes with them as they seek an audience with the Right Honorable Sir Resolute Griffin Bodwell, son of Bodwin, Captain of the Western March, Defender of Shiboleth, etc., etc., while Cyrus, Gilthoron, Nival, and Oswulf track down Caleb, son of Donalt, to have a little chat.
Nival’s divination magic works exceedingly well: after the appropriate time in mental preparation, he is able to locate Caleb through his arcane mastery as the spymaster rides in a covered carriage onto manor grounds. As the carriage passes through a large wooden gate, the observing heroes are able to determine that a hooded someone is bound and gagged at Caleb’s feet. The spymaster genuflects to Banmer, Lord Clelt, and reveals that he has captured Josua, Bodwell’s messenger. With a cold expression, the Lord orders his manservant to have the unconscious man secured in the servant’s quarters and then invites Caleb into the manor to report on the current situation.
Realizing that he doesn’t know exactly where they are, Nival refocuses his arcane talents and is able to get an overview of the city and locate the manor exactly. Armed with this knowledge, he refocuses on the conversation between the two men but is forced to rely on Oswulf’s command of the Keoish tongue for translation. Very little new information is gathered as the spymaster to the Baron gives a concise description of the five groups of investigatory teams searching for the assassin; the description of the heroes is spot-on accurate.
Now convinced that the two are working together for some vile reason, the four heroes decide to have Nival teleport them onto the manor grounds so they may rescue Josua from a fate no doubt worse than death. Utilizing Nival’s wand of invisibility, they hold onto the Magister of Greyhawk as he grabs arcane power and shifts them across the city.
They materialize outside the shed on the grounds of the manor and Oswulf quickly opens the lock and rushes in; once they realize that Josua was not secured here and must be in the manor, they quickly come up with a plan: they will sneak into the house, grab Josua, and Nival will teleport them to safety. Heartbeats away from initiating the plan, one of the roaming guards notices the shed door is open and begins blowing on a whistle as he releases the dog he was leading. Cyrus acts quickly, dipping his fingers into his dust of tracelessness and throwing it into the air, thus magically concealing their route thus far.
Nival, the least experienced sneak, decides to gamble and casts a ghost sound in the form of a dire tiger some distance away, hoping that it will draw the notice of the two dogs on the manor grounds; the attempt is quite successful but also draws out two additional house guards. Realizing that he is nearly useless as a stealthy figure, Nival abandons this role and drapes a greater invisibility upon himself, then triggers a potent volley of magical missiles at the nearest dog (who happens to aggressively trying to bite an invisible Cyrus); the arcane energy slams into the hound with deadly results, slaying it instantly but one of the guards begins sounding the armcry.
As Cyrus, Gilthoron, and Oswulf reach the manor, Nival continues to act as a distracting force; he hammers the shouting guard with a mad impulse to laugh maniacally, and then tries to distract one of the two guards at the rear door which causes one of them to retreat into the building. Cyrus, now at the manor, abandons stealth and scales the wall without alacrity; still invisible, his actions draw the attention of the guard who still cannot see him. Gilthoron moves up to his predetermined location and awaits Oswulf’s opening of the door; the elven archer is unaware that the Keoish rogue has decided to go through a window instead.
Weary of acting dishonorable, Cyrus somersaults backwards, landing between the two guards outside, and attacks with a flurry of blows; his sudden appearance gives the guards and the surviving dog a target and they attack without hesitation but are unable to touch the graceful monk who quickly drops his first foe. Gilthoron, seeing the monk having no problem with the guards, slips through the door and into the kitchen. He makes his way to another inside door and opens it, revealing a hallway currently inhabited by a single guard. At the same time, Oswulf opens a second door, and then darts across the hallway to a third door. The guard is no fool and, seeing the door open apparently by itself and hearing Oswulf’s footsteps, ducks into the nearby pantry to grab a bag of flour that he hurls into the hallway; the back explodes with a rain of white. Impressed by the guard’s quick thinking, Gilthoron releases a single arrow at the man; the broadhead shaft punches through the man’s shield and bites deeply into his arm, briefly pinning the limb to his armor. Panicked, the guard backpedals away from the suddenly visible elven archer and takes a second arrow for his trouble; this one pierces his sword arm, passing completely through it and forcing him to drop the blade in pain. He flees and Gil lets him go.
Outside, Cyrus continues to dance with the upright guard even as there is hurried action at the closed carriage. Nival draws closer, still invisible, and observes with mild surprise that several additional guards are hurrying someone to the carriage. He unleashes magical lightning upon the wooden wheels, hoping to prevent it from escaping, and winces when the arcane energies blow through the wheels like a white-hot blade through warm butter; the carriage flips and catches fire. The Magister gives Cyrus a brief glance, noting that the monk has dropped his second foe and turned his attention to the sole surviving dog, then glances again at the laughing guard before throwing a ball of fire at a cluster of guards who have begun to fire crossbows at his general direction; with screams, they stagger away.
Inside, Oswulf discovers the bound Josua and tries to heft him up but discovers the unconscious man is dead weight; with Gilthoron’s aid, they quickly drag the battered man to the door.
Cyrus eludes the angry dog’s lunge and responds with a sharp kick that breaks the hound’s spine; he glances around briefly, noting the burning and overturned carriage with a shake of his head, then returns to defending himself as the guard that was, until only moments ago laughing his fool head off, rushes to attack, eager to repay the man he believes responsible for his fit. Too late, the man discovers that he is outclassed as Cyrus drops him with a combination of spinning kicks and mighty blows.
The thunder of horses draws the attention of both Cyrus and Nival (the latter now visible) as a troop of cavalry, some thirty strong, thunder through the open gates; at the head of the horsemen is a heavily armored man who gives a sharp arm signal. In flawless precision, the horsemen split into two columns and sweep around the manor, their target obviously the heroes.
Gilthoron and Oswulf stagger out of the manor with the unconscious Josua and Nival begins casting the spell that will teleport them to safety, but one of the horsemen is quicker; a purple ray of light lances out from the rider and envelops the Magister, preventing him from successfully casting the spell. In heartbeats, the heroes are ringed by the cavalrymen and find themselves staring at leveled lances.
Oswulf, ever the survivor, raises his arms above his head to surrender. The leader of the horsemen orders the heroes to surrender after identifying himself as the Right Honorable Sir Vigilant Roc Talamar, son of Thraydin, paladin of Heironeous. A brief but tense standoff occurs as the heroes calculate odds and find them heavily against them; Cyrus demands to know their crime and the paladin relates them: they have done violence and possibly murder against a lord of the land and must be imprisoned until the baron can hear their plea. When they reveal that they are working for the baron’s son, Sir Talamar replies that even the Right Honorable Sir Resolute Griffin Bodwell, son of Bodwin, Captain of the Western March, Defender of Shiboleth, etc., etc., is not above the law in Shiboleth. Grudgingly, the heroes yield.
When they are ordered to lay down their arms, Gilthoron unstrings his bow and offers it to Sir Talamar, demanding the paladin’s oath that no one else will touch it. In a solemn voice and speaking nearly perfect elven, the holy knight of Heironeous gives that oath.
The heroes are then escorted to the South Guardhouse where they are stripped of gear and accoutrements (which are then safely secured inside a small vault that impresses even Oswulf); once secured, Sir Talamar agrees to seek out the Right Honorable Sir Resolute Griffin Bodwell, son of Bodwin, Captain of the Western March, Defender of Shiboleth, etc., etc., and inform them of their present situation. The taste of defeat is strong in their mouth as they stare at the bars that are now their prison.

Slayers in Shiboleth: the 8^th to 10^th of Goodmonth, High Summer, 592:

Even as half of their number are scrying the spymaster and moving to rescue the captured Josua, Aislyn, Alahandra, and Ramezan are waiting patiently at the Hall of Justice with Jaraes, the onetime secretary of the errant spymaster. Several hours pass before the Right Honorable Sir Resolute Griffin Bodwell, son of Bodwin, Captain of the Western March, Defender of Shiboleth, etc., etc., arrives in response to their magical missive. After ordering wine from a servant, he orders them to report their findings and, realizing that Jaraes is the most proficient at this, they turn over the floor to him. With eloquent words and dangerous truths, the sorceror weaves a deadly tale of conspiracy against the rightful lord of Shiboleth that sounds closer to a madman’s tale than the truth but, backed up by hard evidence, Lord Bodwell has no choice but to listen grimly.
Wine finally arrives and Bodwell accepts it, offering refreshment to his guests as well. No sooner has he tasted the wine before he is toppling to the ground; with a shout declaring the heroes to be assassins, the servant leaps from the room. Ramezan acts nearly as quickly, springing forward to tackle the fleeing servant heartbeats before the guards can react. A furious struggle ensues between the Bakluni swordsman and the servant he suspects to be the assassin, Nightfall; with wiry grace, the servant wiggles free of Ramezan’s grip and disappears as if he were backing up into an invisible door. Though they are surprised by this turn of events, the guards of the Hall remain unflustered and continue with their plan to arrest everyone involved.
The arrival of the Right Honorable Sir Vigilant Roc Talamar, son of Thraydin, is fortunate; the paladin of Heironeous has just come from arresting a different group of miscreants who sent word that they were working for the Right Honorable Sir Resolute Griffin Bodwell, son of Bodwin, Captain of the Western March, Defender of Shiboleth, etc., etc. Grimly, Valera Westguard, the High Cleric of the Temple of Heironeous, reports that Lord Bodwell is poisoned and near death; her clerical magics are strangely useless. Though he suspects that the heroes are being framed for the attempt, Sir Talamar also knows that the law if firm on such situations; until the matter can be resolved, the heroes are arrested and incarcerated. Aislyn and Ramezan are taken to the South Guardhouse while Alahandra and Jaraes are taken to the North Guardhouse; the former are only a little amused to discover their other companions already incarcerated within for the crime of doing violence (and possibly death) against a Lord of the Land.
The next two days drag by with agonizing slowness for the imprisoned heroes; without access to their gear or anything else, they slowly succumb to boredom. Late in the night of the day before the threatened assassination, Nival Thriceborn wakes to discover the sinister assassin Nightfall looming over him, his deadly short sword poised to plunge in the Magister’s throat. In a cold voice, the assassin warns Once-Elven to stay out of Nightfall’s path or the consequences will be dire; in respect for the times that Nival saved his life when they traveled together, the assassin does not end the Magister’s life and dons his cloak, slipping easily into the ethereal plane.
Several hours after noon on the day of the threatened assassination, a magical explosion rocks the Guardhouse. Long minutes pass, with the sounds of brutal combat filtering to their ears, before the door to the prison creaks open; a guard, bleeding in a dozen different places, drags himself forward but expires before he can reach a cell. Thinking quickly, Aislyn dispatches her ferret familiar to retrieve the guard’s keys and take them to Nival, the nearest of the heroes. Once freed, the Magister releases the other heroes and they enter the Guardhouse to discover it in shambles, the victim of several fireballs and, from the state of the other two guards, violent swordsmen.
The vault where their gear was stored is open and their belongings are scattered across the floor. A quick inventory reveals several things missing, among them the Darklight Codex. The heroes quickly agree that the book must be recovered from whoever stole it away and, after arming themselves up, Gilthoron picks up their trail of the attackers as they flee through the city.
The trail leads them back to the Temple District where a group of Heironeous pilgrims are leaving the city, augmented by city guards. With his keen elven eyes, Gilthoron is able to pick out the baron among the pilgrims and opens his mouth to inform his comrades when the assassin strikes.
Appearing and disappearing seemingly at will, he moves in a blur, cutting down Valera Westguard and badly wounding Sir Talamar. Despite their distance from the action, the heroes act without hesitation; Cyrus and Ramezan rush forward to lend aid against the deadly attacks while Nival and Aislyn coordinate planned magical assaults. As Nightfall appears momentarily to inflict heavy wounds upon Sir Theodoric, one of Talamar’s associate paladins, the two casters strike: Nival lashes out with raw magic, dispelling the magic of the assassin’s ethereal cloak, while Aislyn attempts to freeze him in place. Once he realizes that his escape route has been cut off, the assassin fights like a cornered rat, dropping Cyrus with a number of impossibly fast strikes and badly injuring several other foes. Lord Bodwell, wan but upright, heroically charges the assassin, but is dropped with a deadly stomach wound. Gilthoron’s arrows flash into the melee, more often than not missing their target due to a magically summoned darkness that Nival is continually forced to dispel. Aislyn inflicts the heaviest damage with the wand the heroes acquired in the battle with Queen Simura, but the assassin’s wounds seem to close up of their own.
As the heroes continue to press Nightfall, well aware that the magic keeping him from using the cloak is gradually fading, they learn that his reputation as a slayer of men is well deserved: Ramezan is slain, opened from shoulder to groin, and Oswulf falls, badly injured from a nearly lethal strike that punctures a lung. Cyrus is restored by the healing magics of Sir Theodoric, who himself is limping very badly thanks to the hamstringing attack by Nightfall, and the shia nin fis monk leaps back into the battle, this time wisely opting to strike and retreat. Peppered by arrows, flashing fists, and magical assaults, the assassin finally falls but his surprises are not yet complete; as his short sword tumbles from his nerveless grasp, his body disappears in a manner consistent with a teleport spell. Despite this setback, the heroes are triumphant and the baron saved.
But appearances can be deceiving for Oswulf, having been healed by Aislyn, picks up the assassin’s blade and a sinister glint that none of his allies notice appears in his eyes…

A Spreading Fire: the 26^th to 28^th of Harvester, High Summer, 592:

Forty days have passed since the battle that claimed the life of the heroes’ comrade Ramezan ibn Azghadi but saw the assassin Nightfall slain. It has been a busy time but most of it feels wasted.
The grateful nobles of Shiboleth, in their desire to express their gratitude (and no doubt one-up each other) threw a steady barrage of gala parties in which the heroes were the honored guests. Despite their attempts otherwise, they were somehow tricked, swindled, or simply strong-armed into attending each and every one. By last count, twenty such dances and banquets occurred in the forty days after Nightfall’s death and that was about nineteen too many.
Oswulf, on the other hand, disappeared within the hour after the battle, not even staying long enough to take his part of the promised reward. Thirty-four days later, he reappeared in the city with a new comrade, a Keoish swordmaster named Kheldane Stormbringer, who Gilthoron knows from his time in the Greyhawk Wars; though the rogue refuses to speak of what happened to him and has somehow convinced his newfound comrade (and swordmaster), all are convinced it cannot have been pleasurable.
The two priestesses of Pelor spent as much of the time as possible helping the reconstruction of the burned out temple; seven days after Nightfall’s death, Father Æthelred departed for the Great Hall of Pelor in Greyhawk, leaving his newly returned acolyte, Gerard, son of Godfred, as the spiritual advisor for the Pelor faithful. Unlike his mentor, Gerard did not blame either of them for the damage done to the temple and welcomed their assistance in rebuilding.
Having been abroad conducting his duties for the Knights of the Watch, the Right Honorable Sir Resolute Griffon Bodwell, son of Bodwin, returned thirty-nine days after Nightfall’s death and, upon realization that the heroes wanted nothing more than to depart the city, quickly arranged it so that they could leave when you wanted to. And so, on the 22^nd day of Harvester, they departed Shiboleth heading south.
At Cyrus’ urging, Nival had kept a magical eye upon the errant Darklight Codex and the villains responsible for its theft. Despite the amount of time spent scrying upon her, little is discovered about her – she is referred to only as Mistress or M’Lady by the band of mercenaries in her employ. The mercs are 15 strong, with a particularly grim woman warrior named Bronwyn in overall command; from the limited time studying them, the heroes quickly ascertain that these warriors are a hardened crew, disciplined and fearless, truly a tough nut to crack.
Fortunately, the band was travelling fairly slowly and appeared to be in disguise as a group of merchants, apparently in an effort to not draw attention to themselves. They remained blissfully unaware that they were being pursued and, as the group of heroes entered the city of Havenhill, they had drawn to within a few days of their foes.
In Havenhill, the heroes pause long enough to regain their bearings; Nival’s scrying abilities reveal that the villains they hunt have entered the Pomarj and are captured by a party of raiding orcs. Barely pausing long enough for an ale, the heroes push into the land of the orcs – the city guards give them fair warning that the Pomarj is no place for civilized men but Gilthoron’s look of polite scorn silences them.
Once in the lands of his ancestral enemies, the elvish archer falls into old habits; he quickly organizes the group into the most effective anti-orc squad that they can be and, when the heroes detect a group of orcish raiders, they set up a false camp and set up a deadly ambush. As the sun dips below the horizon, the orcs charge into the camp only to meet their doom. His bow singing, Gilthoron reveals how he earned the name Orcbane. The other heroes, while unable to rack up a kill count as high as his, prove to be no green warriors, with Cyrus and Alahandra fighting back-to-back. The raging orcs discover themselves unprepared for the sheer lethality of the heroes’ attack; in heartbeats, the ground is slick with the blood of the dead and dying.
From the scene of the battle, the heroes push on into the night, finally finding a secure place to set up a good campsite; once more, Nival Once-Elven utilizes his powerful arcane skills to erect a domicile out of raw Magick. Inside, the Magister attunes his scrying talents once more to the fate of the Darklight Codex, discovering it now in the possession of a powerful-looking orc chieftain named Ulthront. The Mistress – now revealed to be a Nerull-worshipping mage named Shaf Karrez – offers her services to the orcish battle lord in his hunt for a mysterious tomb; a hooded orc steps forward and Gilthoron’s face freezes up at the image of the albino creature. With a wave his hand, the albino orc orders the mage’s surviving companions slaughtered.
The following day finds the heroes trying to locate the orcish base and, several hours after noon, they discover it: a hastily-erected motte-and-bailey keep atop a hill. Nival draws upon his Art once more, granting the heroes a bird’s eye view of the fort, and they quickly develop a plan of attack. Since Aislyn is feeling under the weather, Kheldane will remain behind to protect her and the horses while Thriceborn teleports the other heroes into the compound once they have completed their prepatory spells and prayers. There is a upending sense of vertigo as Once-Elven reaches out with the raw power of the cosmos and transports the heroes across the plain in a heartbeat. Quickly forming a circle around the Magister, the heroes unleash hell upon the unsuspecting orcish defenders.
If Gilthoron’s bow sang earlier, now it screams rage; the elven archer delivers a storm of arrows worthy of three men upon his hated foes, dropping them where they stand. The Thriceborn draws deeply upon the wellspring of eternity and rains down arcane fire upon the defenders, burning their flesh and searing their eyes. Alahandra and Cyrus find themselves back-to-back once more, her glowing mace a deadly complement to his bone-crushing fists. Oswulf, as per the plan, moves stealthily away from the heroes under a magical concealment and begins working the heavy chains that bar the fort’s primary gate in the event that the heroes must make a quick exit. This proves to be unnecessary as the orcs fall in heartbeats. By the time the alarm sounds and Ulthront arrives, he is among the last surviving orcs yet alive. Smiling coldly, the Once-Elven lashes out with magic, ripping away the fort commander’s strength before freezing him in place; almost casually, Cyrus sends their captive into unconsciousness. The fort – and the day – belongs to the heroes.

A Spreading Fire: the 28^th of Harvester to the 5^th of Brewfest, High Summer/Early Autumn, 592:

Mere moments pass between the moment the last of the orcish warriors falls and the thundering arrival of Aislyn and Kheldane (along with the mounts of the other heroes.) Quickly turning their attention to the ex-slaves, the heroes instruct the now-freed captives to don the gear of the fallen and prepare to leave the captured fort. Oswulf, not hesitating in the slightest, sneaks off and enters the fort’s keep. By the time the other heroes realize that he is gone, he is on the second floor.
Sharp-eyed as ever, Cyrus and Gilthoron note unusual reflections from the roof the keep and quickly alert the other heroes; with the elven archer remaining behind to cover their captive (with Alahandra present to make sure the orc commander doesn’t meet with an…unfortunate accident), the other heroes rush the keep. Cyrus opts to scale the outer wall, making as good time (if not better) than the others; he bounds onto the roof and engages the four orcs hiding there in combat several heartbeats before Kheldane springs through the trapdoor in the floor and joins in. The battle goes very poorly for the orcs and, in a matter of moments, all are dead or dying.
Oswulf spends a considerable amount of time disarming traps on a number of boxes, many of which contain stolen trade goods, while Nival and Aislyn search the commander’s quarters where they discover that Ulthront was seeking the Lost Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali, an ancient orcish warlord who carved an empire out of the lands millenia ago. During this time, Nival finds the Darklight Codex under a pile of papers and, with characteristic insanity, cracks it open. Almost instantly, he recoils in pain, dropping the book and realizing how lucky he was not to have been incinerated on the spot. When Cyrus learns of this, he eyes the Magister uneasily, obviously concerned that the Once-Elven is either a demon in disguise or a seriously deluded fool with too much raw power at his fingertips.
Attempts to interrogate Ulthront fail and the heroes decide to send a message to the orcish hordes of the Pomarj; the commander is executed on the spot (to the cheers of the ex-slaves) and his head is impaled upon a broad spear outside the fort which the heroes promptly put to the torch. With the freed captives, the heroes return to the city of Havenhill, a surprisingly uneventful four-day journey.
Once in the city, many of the freed slaves quickly disappear, hopefully returning to families who feared them dead, but many remain in states of shock; these, the heroes turn over to a young priest of Cuthbert who promises that he will see to them. After a few moments of conversation with the young priest, Cyrus decides to turn the Darklight Codex over to him for destruction. Momentarily at a loss about how to destroy the implement of Evil, Armsman Peredur, son of Pelyan, invokes a powerful prayer and calls upon the archons of his patron. After a brief conversation with the planar ally, Armsman Peredur invokes another powerful prayer and plane shifts to…someplace else. He returns some minutes later, his clothes burned but his eyes alight with joy. The Darklight Codex, he announces, has been destroyed.
The heroes spend the day relaxing and selling their captured goods to the city merchants, making a very pretty copper piece in the process. Nival Thriceborn spends much of the day seeking out bards and sages, trying desperately to identify a magical wand taken from the person of Ulthront. Though he is able to determine it’s properties, he also learns of a curious rhyme accompanying the casting of a legend lore invocation: “That which was sundered on Pesh’s plain, Holds back chaos’ reign. Yet the vaati’s deed shall remain undone, Until the seven again become one.”

A Spreading Fire: the 5^th of Brewfest to the 2^nd of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

Having successfully completed their transactions, the heroes now turn to the task at hand: preventing the orcs from acquiring Kruk-Ma-Kali’s legendary weapon, Bloodthirster.
Two days north from Havenhill, as the heroes are preparing to set up camp for the evening, they are set upon by a large band of vile creatures bearing the white skull of Iuz the Wicked. The battle goes poorly for the unnatural monsters, with the heroes easily cutting many down; Cyrus, noticing a sinister-looking figure lurking behind the attacking creatures, charges the form and engages it in combat. Despite a slight breeze, its cloak hangs motionless as the creature moves and the face…a man’s face, but pasty white, like a slug under a rock, and eyeless. From oily black hair to puffy cheeks was as smooth as an eggshell. It moves with a sinuous, deadly grace, like a viper, and wears overlapping black plates of armor. Mastering his fear, the monk strikes hard and often, his fists seeming to blur with speed. Battered and bruised, the creature backs into the shadows of a large tree and vanishes. Examining the slain creatures reveals nothing beyond their origin; no one among the group has seen or even heard of creatures such as these: though they initially appear to be massive men, near giants in fact, a closer examination reveals this to be far from the case. No two are like but are much the same, even in their differences, a repulsive melange of human faces distorted by muzzles, horns, feathers, and fur. Their hands, almost human, only make it worse; some wear boots, while still others have hooves. They wield an unusual weapon that appears to be a wicked-looking combination of scythe and sword; having never seen such a weapon before, Gilthoron decides to keep one, not as a souvenir but as something that must be studied.
The following day, the heroes happen across an ill-fated orcish band, now nothing more than a smoking ruin. All of the horses simply refuse to get near the immensely charred area and the heroes that investigate find their stomachs turning at the sight of the dead bodies; they have all seen men die by fire but this…this is something else. It is as if the fire sought out the most vulnerable spots, almost as if the fire itself were alive. Only one creature can form such living fire: Dragon.
Four days from Havenhill, as the sun sets, the heroes enter the valley called Kruknaggzhor by orcs: Vale of the King. The tall peaks of the Lortmil Mountains loom overhead and Gilthoron, on point, tops a slight hill to discover a pair of trolls some hundred feet away; quickly retreating, he orders the rest of the heroes into ambush positions and they wait for long heartbeats. Realizing that the trolls aren’t taking the bait, Gilthoron rides forward even as Cyrus races up a steep incline; both see a number of trolls arriving as reinforcements and shout warnings to their comrades. Bellowing war cries, the trolls charge into battle but find themselves badly outclassed. Burning arrows, explosive fireballs and flashing fists are too much for the trolls and several fall, forcing the others into a retreat with the heroes constantly hounding them all the way to their lair. Three additional trolls emerge and begin casting spells; two fall in heartbeats – one a victim to a precisely aimed shot by Gilthoron, the other incinerated by twin fireballs cast by Aislyn and Nival. With the two casters and the rest of the heroes on watch, Cyrus and Gilthoron climb a sharp incline nearly seventy feet to get an overview of the Great Valley, then return with their findings. Though they are not entirely sure, both suspect they saw a dragon’s lair and suggest that the heroes recover before setting out again. Upon everyone’s agreement, the heroes enter the troll lair and set up camp.

A Spreading Fire: the 3^rd to the 6^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

Following a restless night (due primarily to the proximity of trollish refuse but also due to Alahandra’s curious obsession with neatness), the heroes turn their attention back to the job at hand. Declaring that he has an idea that will require Oswulf’s help, Nival Thriceborn grabs the rogue and teleports them away without even consulting his companions. Deciding to avoid the potential dragon’s lair, the remaining heroes depart the troll cave and travel east to investigate the columns of smoke seen by Cyrus the previous day. They discover what appears to have once been a village but is now little more than a smoking ruin, proof once more that a dragon has been in the region.
A familiar sense of panic begins to well up within them and their eyes immediately lift to skies, hoping against hope that their fears are unfounded. Gilthoron sees them first, his keen elf eyes picking out a trio of crimson shapes dancing through the skies; without hesitation, the heroes race for shelter in the form of an ancient tower of stone. The panic turns to fear, then to terror, as the creatures dip from the clouds, their destination evident; one bellows out a bestial roar that thunders through the valley, a roar that is answered from somewhere in the mountains to the west. With grace impossible in so large a creature, the roaring drake glides toward the valley, landing as lightly as hummingbird in the open plains northwest of the heroes; in the sky above, the other two dragons circle, scarlet vultures in a clear blue sky.
Long minutes pass with Gilthoron desperately trying to keep the party’s horses from bolting and, for the most part, succeeding. Suddenly, the dragonfear swells to new heights and Aislyn’s mount streaks from their hiding place; before it can get thirty paces, a huge red dragon sweeps out of the sky and snatches it up with monstrous talons. Power wings carry the drake back into the sky and, as the twin patrolling drakes wheel around in perfect coordination and the fourth drake from the Valley falls into formation, Gilthoron’s elven eyes pick out with surprising clarity the form of riders atop the trio of red dragons.
The following day, the heroes depart the shattered village and continue north to the mountains; a statue can be seen a day away atop the mountains and the heroes decide to investigate it. Carved from the very rock itself, the statue is of an orcish king – the fabled Kruk-Ma-Kali, no doubt; carefully examining the statue, the heroes eventually discover a hidden panel that reveals a small silver key. With the sun already sinking below the horizon, the heroes decide to remain near the statue until the following day.
Several hours after sunset, while Aislyn and Kheldane are on watch, a single wyvern attacks the small campsite but fails to gain surprise on the heroes. As it attempts to flee, Cyrus leaps atop its back heartbeats before Gilthoron drills it with a lethal arrowshot; fortunately for the monk, Aislyn reacts just as quickly, erecting a web below the plunging wyvern corpse and allowing the monk to return to the campsite without difficulty. Unsure what to do, Alahandra seeks an augury from Pelor the Shining One, regarding how to find the Lost Tomb. The response she receives is cryptic: Even the mightiest river has its beginning in a mere drop of water. Thus do all great things begin, at the source. Consulting the map they acquired from the fort of Ulthront, the heroes decide to make their way to the source of a small river in the valley.
Two days later, as the sun sets on the 6^th of Patchwall, the heroes enter another abandoned village that is near a small lake. Unlike the previous village they discovered, this one appears to be relatively intact, albeit untouched by humanoid hands in many years. While investigating the ruins, Alahandra discovers why the orcs fled the village when the ghostly visage of a murdered orc attacks. Though the ghost is mostly harmless to the heroes, it succeeds in draining vital life forces from Aislyn before being destroyed by Pelor’s might. Realizing that to continue on would be foolhardy, the heroes set up camp once more while Alahandra begins to pray for aid from the Shining One in order to restore Aislyn.

A Spreading Fire: the 7^th to the 9^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

The morning of the 7^th dawns cold and sharp, a sure hint of coming winter. As Aislyn and Alahandra rise from morning prayers, a curious fog rises up around many of the group and a deadly ambush is sprung. Armored orcs, having surrounded the heroes in the last few hours, charge forward, grim axes held aloft, while an orcish archer releases a single shaft at Gilthoron Orcbane; with a snap, the frog crotch arrow slices cleanly through his bowstring.
From the outset, things look ill for the heroes. Kheldane Stormbringer, wielding his greatsword with deadly fury, is surrounded almost instantly and dances ruin among the orc barbarians that threaten him. Alahandra Ghost-Hammer lays about with her glowing war-mace while trying to keep Aislyn Willowblade unharmed. Seeing the peril of the priestesses, Cyrus Wingfoot leaps into the fray, fists and feet flashing quickly. Though hard-pressed by orcish attackers, Gilthoron Orcbane ducks into the obscuring mist and restrings his bow with practiced ease before unleashing a rain of deadly arrows at his foes. Foes fall, though they do not fall easily, and the heroes find themselves quickly backing into a corner.
At his ease in Greyhawk City, Nival Thriceborn completes his scrying spell and realizes that his companions are in dire danger. Though he has arranged to meet with Oswulf Swiftblade much later to facilitate their return, he quickly realizes that there is no time remaining and teleports himself to the battle.
Or, more accurately, above the battle. Slowing his fall to that of a feather’s, he begins raining down magical destruction upon the orcs, unintentionally clearing away the obscuring mist which grants the orcish archer another opportunity to slice Gilthoron’s bowstring. Even as the elven archer is once more cursing, Aislyn Willowblade finds herself surrounded and falls to cruel blows; only the quick actions of Alahandra saves her life but at a vicious cost as she falls before the orcs as well.
The odds now much better, the heroes push back the orcish ambushers with fire and sword; Gilthoron, furious at the damage done to his bow, restrings once again and sends a storm of arrows at the concealed archer, dropping the orc in heartbeats. Kheldane finds himself surrounded by orcish bodies and, ignoring the wounds he suffered, engages additional foes with lethal result.
The architect of the ambush flees, drawing the attention of Cyrus Wingfoot and Nival Once-Elven nearly simultaneously; she flees at a very fast pace, abandoning her armored bodyguard. With a wave of his hand, Thriceborn sends deadly magics at the fleeing foe, coating her with a spell of his invention which he calls Nival’s Arcane Pyrotechnic Adhesive Lingering Muck. Slowing burning alive, the fleeing woman dives into the nearby river and is promptly swallowed by a colossal creature that the heroes get but a glimpse of.
Realizing that there is no way to escape the heroes now that the last of the orcs have fallen, the abandoned bodyguard asks to parley with them; Cyrus’ strict moral code refuses to ignore such an offer and he accepts for the party. The bodyguard, a mercenary named Bronwyn, reveals what she knows for safe passage but it is not of much use: her employer, the now eaten Shaf Karrez, hired her in Shiboleth to act as a sword arm. Karrez, who was later revealed to have once been a member of the Congregation of the Dead, took Bronwyn to the Pomarj where, at the behest of an albino orc called Môgnash the White, lead a force after the Lost Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali; Môgnash the White had departed earlier that morning via a teleport spell, taking along several loyal orcs. Much was said between Shaf Karrez and Môgnash the White, but it was all in orcish and Bronwyn does not know that tongue. After some discussion, the heroes agree to allow her to depart and do not stop her when she takes a bow and arrows from one of the fallen orcs; the Pomarj is, after all, a deadly place.
The following day, the heroes arrive at their destination: the mouth of the river as it flows out of the mountains. Climbing up the mountain, they discover a well-preserved hole and manage to gain entry into a dark tunnel that leads to a wide chamber with numerous curious icicles. After some investigation, they place a torch into the only visible hole, hoping to discover some additional clue, but instead discover magic a work; in a flash, the entire cavern is alight and they discover that it is a map of Kruknaggzhor with two locations very obviously highlighted. With a grin, they agree that progress is being made.

A Spreading Fire: the 9^th to the 11^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

From the frozen cavern, the heroes travel southeast for several hours, finally arriving at their destination a little after midday: a narrow valley in which a cave can be clearly seen some hundred feet from the valley entrance. The cave is twenty feet above the valley floor and Cyrus, being the most agile, quickly scrambles up to the ledge; once pitons are set, the rest of the group ascends and investigates. They quickly discover that the cave is more of a tunnel that leads to a massive wall of red marble within which is an equally large bronze circle. Examination of the seal reveals no way to gain entry short of physical destruction and Kheldane, who has emerged as a leader of sorts, suggests that they ignore it for now and move on to the other location highlighted in the ice cavern.
Nival Thriceborn teleports himself, Aislyn, Gilthoron, and Kheldane to the second location where they spend a short span of time searching the grounds. Gilthoron’s keen elven eyesight and tracking skills prove to be a significant boon as he quickly locates a footpath that appears to have been blocked by a earthquake many years past. He squeezes through the blocked path, evading the fallen rocks and jagged stones before emerging on a ledge some twenty feet from the ground. Immediately, he realizes that he has found the Lost Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali for a magnificent structure has been carved into the mountain wall. Once Gilthoron returns with this news, Kheldane suggests that they teleport back and bring the horses over on foot the next day, a suggestion that his companions agree to.
The following day finds them on the valley floor en route to the Lost Tomb’s location; around midday, they are set upon by spyder-fiends that many recognize from Shiboleth. The battle goes ill for the demonic creatures and the heroes emerge victorious in a manner of moments.
Forced to hobble the horses and leave them once they arrive at the broken footpath, the heroes gather all of their gear and hike to the Tomb. Once there, they quickly discover a need for an expert locksmith and rogue as gaining entrance proves to be more difficult than anticipated. An hour into the expedition, they have finally gained entrance to the tomb itself, discovering a chamber of ancient orcish lords. Six large statues dominate the room and, being of a cautious mind, Aislyn calls upon Pelor’s aid to detect traps.
Unfortunately, her talents do not lie in that direction and she triggers a pit trap. Plunging some forty feet, she lands in a noxious watery sludge that quickly overwhelms her; even as Cyrus is descending a rope to retrieve her, she passes out and sinks under the sludge. Hoping to retrieve her from a watery death while preventing such a fate for himself, Cyrus loops the rope around his left hand and plunges his right into the sludge. For a brief moment, he thinks himself save from the sludge, but it overcomes even his fortitude and he goes limp, forcing those holding the rope to haul him up like so much dead weight. Next, Alahandra (who has removed her armor) descends down the rope, but she too is overcome and hauled up. Gilthoron, thinking quickly, produces a grappling hook and they lower it into the sludge; such a dangerous act reveals how desperate they have become but their luck holds out and hook onto Aislyn’s form. Pulling her from the sludge in the heartbeats before she is completely lost, they ignore the bleeding wounds caused by the grappling hook until she is secure; Nival reaches out to pull her from the pit and is instantly overcome by the noxious sludge that she is covered with – fortunately, he collapses on the floor and does not fall into the pit.
Using a blanket to drag the fallen free of the tomb, Gilthoron and Kheldane set up camp and attend to their fallen comrades as best as they can. One by one, the unconscious members of the group gradually regain their senses, all save Aislyn. Oswulf’s skills, they realize, are badly needed.
And Aislyn still has not woken.

A Spreading Fire: the 12^th to the 13^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

The morning of the 12^th day of Patchwall finds the group of heroes arguing about the best course of action to take; Kheldane’s suggestion is blunt: Nival could teleport to Greyhawk and find Oswulf or hire a rogue to aid them. Aislyn, who wakes with an unnerving zeal in her eyes, declares that she must go to the temple of Pelor in Greyhawk City immediately. With a snap of his fingers, Nival Once-Elven teleports them to a spot just outside the city proper; without a word of thanks, Aislyn departs his company, her destination obvious.
Intending upon serving a double purpose, Nival Thriceborn spends most of the day selling accumulated loot that the group has acquired from fallen foes before turning his attention to the hiring of an experienced dungeon delver. At the Guild of Adventurers, he spend additional time reviewing potential rogues for hire; in the end, he settles on Cara Ianthala, a half-elven female who has accumulated a significant reputation for dungeon delving. The two spend some time arguing over the proposed contract before Nival teleports them back to the Lost Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali.
From the beginning, Cara proves her worth, discovering and disabling a number of traps that the other heroes had been totally oblivious about. Venturing farther from the initial room that they had entered, the heroes discover a number of magical items, ranging from an battle standard with the symbol of crossed halberds upon a field of green that no one can identify to a ponderous tome titled Manual of Military Prowess. Deeper into the tomb they travel, discovering a minor devil among statues of its kind; it falls before them quickly. In a side room, Cara discovers a bottomless well from which whispers that she cannot quite make out emerge; when she investigates, she overcomes an urge to leap into the well. Nival, however, does not and disappears into the inky darkness.
The heroes attempt to push on but trigger a magical trap that overwhelms all of them but Cyrus with overwhelming terror; save for the monk, they each flee. For Cyrus Wingfoot, however, circumstances are nearly worse as a massive block of stone falls from the ceiling, pinning him underneath for long moments before slowly retracting into the ceiling. Eventually, the heroes recover their wits and, embarrassed at their collective lack of control, they rejoin their companions.
The Magister of Greyhawk wakes to find himself face down on stone; his thoughts are murky – he recalls plunging into the well and then, as he hurtled to his doom, recovering his senses and desperately calling upon his magical mastery to teleport himself to safety. Looking around the room, he opens a door at random and finds himself suddenly standing before a balor; panicked, he unleashes his most fearsome weapon in his magical arsenal and, with a flash of inverted light, the horrible devil is disintegrated. Suddenly back in the small room, he realizes the danger that he is in and decides to rest, hoping to recover sufficient magical energy to teleport himself back to his companions.
Convinced that Cara had already triggered the bulk of the traps in her mad flight, Cyrus takes the lead and moves to investigate a noise that he has heard; only his remarkable speed saves him as he senses impending danger heartbeats before scything blades emerge from the wall and nearly eviscerate him. As Cara disables the trap, he moves on to a door where he awaits her skills with locks; beyond the door, they discover Nival, his staff held at ready and magical destruction poised to be unleashed. Alahandra moves to investigate the open door in the room while Nival relates what happened to him; in a flash, she collapses to the floor.
To the Pelor cleric’s mind, she finds herself facing a furious fire giant and the exchange goes poorly for her; with mighty blows, the giant sends her reeling with agony and raises its mighty greatsword for the killing blow. To her companions, she jerks and twitches; wounds appear out of nowhere – great gashes that could only have come from a bladed weapon. Her eyes snap out briefly, then roll back into her head as unconsciousness claims her.
With Nival Thriceborn’s magical energy depleted and Alahandra unconscious, Kheldane suggests that they set up camp for the evening in this place; upon the morrow, they can venture farther into the tomb.

A Spreading Fire: the 14^th to the 15^th to Somewhen Else and back to the 14^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

Unsurprisingly, it is Gilthoron who points out that the horses hobbled together outside the Tomb will be in desperate need of fodder in the very near future. With Alahandra slowly recovering from the mental battle, Kheldane suggests that Nival make a quick jaunt to Greyhawk to pick some up. Since they are yet unsure how large the Tomb is, Cyrus and Gilthoron agree to accompany the Once-Elven in order to carry the extra poundage. Immediately before they depart, Gilthoron suggests to Nival that they go to Shiboleth instead of Greyhawk; the elven archer desires to visit the Lover’s Quarrel to replenish his dwindling stock of arrows.
The three arrive outside of Shiboleth to discover the main road into the city packed with young men; a brief conversation with some of the men reveals that today is the long-delayed Festival of the Choosing, in which the Craftmasters of the city take on students and apprentices and train them for a new craft. Nival goes quiet at this; he does not recall his own Choosing with good memories.
A few hours pass as the heroes spend time in the various shops and stores; Gilthoron spends some money recovering new shafts while Nival makes a new friend at the new “Magickal Antiquities Shoppe” when he donates some unused and unwanted scrolls to the shop owner, Master Dunstan. During all of this, Cyrus finds himself the object of fearful glances, hate-filled looks and concealed warding signs. Tiring of the terror in everyone’s eyes when they glance at him, he confronts a pedestrian (forcefully) and learns of an insane monk who appears to be terrorizing the slums district of Shiboleth. Conferring with his companions, he urges that they investigate and Nival suggests that they visit the Hall of Justice to learn any additional information first. As this is quite logical, his two companions agree.
Too late they recall that today is the Festival of Choosing and that the Hall of Justice is the most common location in a city this size to conduct the ceremony itself. Resigning themselves to observation of the ages-old ritual, they each are left to their own thoughts and memories. As the ceremony nears completion, a single child is left standing before the Craftmasters, a young boy that Cyrus and Nival recognize as the con artist who attempted to sell them fake scrolls. Driven by a compulsion that he does not entirely understand, Nival Once-Elven takes action.
He first discretely casts a spell to detect thoughts in order to ascertain the identity of the boy: Tarrant Hawkins. Cognizant that the Hawkins surname is the traditional method of naming bastard children in Shiboleth and that the boy will have few prospects beyond a short life on the street, he casts several additional spells in rapid succession: a ghost sound that causes his voice to boom around the courtyard much louder than it would normally would; a teleport to the spot before the child; and an act of prestidigitation to mark his arrival with smoke. Standing before the assembled audience of Craftmasters and Apprentices, he speaks, his voice echoing like thunder: “I am Nival, son of Drammel, called Once-Elven and Thriceborn, Master of my Craft and I call this child, Tarrant Hawkins of Shiboleth, to be my apprentice.”
The Craftmasters are suitably impressed by Nival’s mastery of the Art and, although Baron Bodwin attempts to get the Magister to rethink his offer, the Thriceborn gains a grateful apprentice; many are the looks of envy that the young man receives from his peers. All of the Craftmasters who have taken on new apprentices, including Nival, swear a powerful and binding oath to serve as the best masters possible; the Church Masters pool their divine prayers and settle upon the oathsworn men an unbreakable geas. For better or worse, Nival has an apprentice.
Following the Festival meal, Nival Thriceborn dispatches his apprentice to various shops with a list of needed materials and a purse of coins with instructions to get lodgings at the Silver Arms while he and his two companions head to the slums to investigate the rumors concerning the Mad Monk; he gives young Tarrant a stern warning not to linger, a warning that the boy appears to take to heart. Familiar with only the Golden Cockatrice, the three companions decide to make that their starting point and it turns out to be a fortuitious decision as they discover the monk, whom Cyrus now recognizes as an old friend named Baldwyk, engaged in a furious fight with a dozen hooded and cloaked figures. Before the heroes can even call out, half of the cloaked figures attack them, making the choice of whom to side with rather easy for the three experienced adventurers. As Nival unleashes his raw magical power in the form of a stream of chain lightning and Gilthoron lets fly a rain of arrows, Cyrus Wingfoot tumbles into the battle, his fists and feet flying with deadly force.
Suddenly, a single crossbow bolt, fired from a concealed position, slams home in Baldwyk, obviously piercing his heart. Yet despite these grievous wounds, the monk struggles on and lunges up to grasp Cyrus by the arms; to the younger monk’s horror, the strange draconic tattoos on Baldwyk’s arms appear to slither onto Cyrus’ own forearms, moving under the skin with terrifying speed. As they leave his arms entirely, Baldwyk shudders and collapses, a lifeless husk of a man.
Foreign power swells up within Cyrus and he fights a growing sense of despair the only way he knows how: by lashing out with a flurry of blows. In seconds, the last of the would-be assassins have fallen save for a single man who had fled earlier before curiously returning and throwing down his weapons in fear. Still enraged at the death of his companion and fearful of the possible fate that yet awaits him, Cyrus strikes the man a single time; to his surprise, energy envelops his arms and his fist impacts with impossible force, hurling the now unconscious rogue back twenty feet to lie in a crumpled heap. When he goes to check on the man, the young monk is also surprised to discover six additional bodies, dressed identically; there is no hint as to who is responsible for their deaths. Several moments later, when the local constables arrive to investigate the disturbance, Cyrus remains in the shadows, allowing Nival to do the talking while trying to remain out of sight. After several locals, including one that is well known to the constables, vouches for their story, the heroes are set free; Nival, in a friendly manner, asks that they be kept apprised of the situation as it develops, and the three retire to the Silver Arms, stopping only long enough for Cyrus to purchase sleeved shirts in an attempt to conceal the curious tattoos.
The following morn dawns and the four travellers depart the Silver Arms early; young Tarrant is undeniably pleased with his situation, having the spent the evening in a comfortably warm bed and now embarking upon a Grand Adventure wearing boots that cost more money than he has seen in his life. Even grim Gilthoron cannot help but to recall days long past when he was as carefree as the ex-thief and such memories bring a smile to his face. Once they have purchased the horse fodder they came to Shiboleth for, Nival orders them to gather round so that he can teleport them back to the Lost Tomb.
An incredible surge of arcane power roars up around him, seizing his teleport spell and redirecting it almost effortlessly; only Nival Thriceborn, more accustomed to the feel of magickal might surging through his body, remains upright when the light fades. With his companions face down and senseless, Nival takes stock of his situation and relaxes just a bit: his fear that Shiner was responsible appears to have been unfounded.
The room that they have materialized in is circular but unmistakably a Mage’s Sanctum and four humanoids are within the Sanctum. A bearded man of mid- to late-thirties climbs to his feet, an intricately carved staff held tightly in his hand; though Nival does not recognize him, the Once-Elven Magister realizes that there is something familiar about him. An elven-looking youth who, Nival notes, bears a startling resemblance to Alahandra, lies on the floor, quite obviously stunned by the sheer power of the spell. Kneeling over him is a beautiful red-haired human woman; though she is obviously someone else, her face reminds him of a previously lover and, for some reason, he thinks of foxes when he looks at her. At her side is a powerfully built young man who has the distinctive facial features Nival Thriceborn knows quite well; this boy is close kin to Wulfric, son of Denewulf.
The bearded man approaches the recovering heroes and Nival notes that his eyes flicker over Cyrus’ bared arms with just the hint of disappointment; the man introduces himself as Alantin, a name that is obviously false since Once-Elven recognizes it as an ancient arcane term for ‘friend.’ Alantin reveals that the heroes have been dragged forward in time, thirty or so years, and that it was not intentional; when the heroes asks him to reveal events that are, to them, future events, he refuses, instead giving them cryptic answers that, in the end, answer nothing. The elven youth is Healed by a newcomer who is very obviously a woman, though she is cloaked and hooded in white and the heroes cannot pierce her identity. Attempts to press Alantin for information come to naught, though the heroes do suspect that the curious magical brand that Cyrus now bears is at the heart of the coming danger due to the expressions of despair or disappointment on the faces of all but Alantin. As the elven youth begins casting a spell that is totally foreign to Nival’s mind, the bearded Alantin offers sage advice: “Instruct your apprentice well, Nival Thriceborn; much depends upon his training. And his survival.” Only Gilthoron notices that this last is said with another sad glance at Cyrus before the world is consumed by light.
The light dissolves and the four discover themselves once more at the Golden Cockatrice though on the opposite side of it; before them are five cloaked and hooded men, all facing away from them and very obviously preparing to hurl themselves into a battle the heroes can hear. A sixth man, armed with a heavy crossbow, drops from the roof of the Golden Cockatice and then freezes in shock. Realization sets in upon the heroes immediately; they were sent too far back and are those involved the fight that they can hear. Without hesitation, Nival unleashes his full magical might upon these villains as Cyrus wades in and Gilthoron looses deadly shafts. As the heroes are dropping their foes without effort, a seventh man appears for a moment before returning to the other fight; even as he is smashing the nose of one of his foes, Cyrus cannot help but to grin as he realizes why that man had thrown down his arms the first time. Heartbeats later, the battle is over. For a single moment, Cyrus is furious as he sees young Tarrant move through the fallen bodies, but his anger dissipates in the wind as he realizes that Nival’s apprentice is stripping the fletching from the arrows that Gilthoron used. He smiles in approval as Nival teleports them away.

A Spreading Fire: the 14^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

From Shiboleth and the site of the battle, Nival Once-Elven teleports them back to the Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali where they quickly rejoin their companions. Though mere hours have passed for Alahandra, Cara and Kheldane, they agree to press on in their quest to discover the legendary weapon of the orcish overlord. With Cara on point, they proceed into a curious room covered with hundreds of sharp wooden spikes, seemingly protruding from the floor, the ceiling and the walls. Moving with extreme caution, Cara enters the room, alert for hints of a trap; as a result, she is caught by surprise when an air elemental seizes her and flings her into a half dozen of the spikes. A short but furious battle breaks out as the heroes attempt to retrieve her while remaining away from the elemental’s grip.
From the spiked room, they proceed north, discovering an immense hall filled with rusty implements of war and thick with a sense of fear. Cautiously, they proceed and are unsurprised when dozens of undead creatures rise up from the ground; thought severely outnumbered by the creatures of Unlife, the heroes easily emerge victorious, thanks in no small part to Alahandra’s call to Pelor to turn undead. Retracing their steps, they discover themselves in a small room within which an orcish script can be seen upon the walls. Cara, yet on point, opens a door, discovering a single magical symbol upon the blank wall beyond; Nival, ever curious, peeks over her shoulder to get a better look before screaming with pain.
To their surprise, Nival begins to change…

A Spreading Fire: the 14^th to the 16^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

Far to the north, in the elven lands of Sillín (which humans have corrupted to Celene), Kalhil, son of Kalheru, accepts a commission from Lady Undomiel, wife of Gilthoron, son of Glorthoron, to deliver a sealed message to her errant husband. Kalhil, a wood elf like his distant cousin Gilthoron, has only recently returned to Sillín following his adventures in Gyruff alongside Sir Wulfric Against the Giants but eagerly accepts the opportunity to escape the (to his mind) boring elven lands even if it will mean a long journey with no real end in sight. Before he leaves, however, he is cornered by an elven archmage named Celithral, son of Celithralith, whom he initially mistakes for his old friend, Nival, son of Drammel. Once Celithral explains the circumstances concerning Nival’s accidental transformation many years back, Kalhil listens to Celithral’s proposal: the elven archmage will create a teleport circle for the swordsman so that he may carry Lady Undomiel’s missive directly to Gilthoron and, in return, Kalhil will accompany Celithral on an expedition into hostile lands to acquire extremely rare magical components. Once the two have reached an agreement regarding the future expedition, Celithral scrys Nival’s location and, upon discovery of the Once-Elven’s dire situation, quickly throws a few items into a bag: a magical ring for Kalhil’s use (one-way return to Sillín), a scroll, and several small potions. “Tell Nival Once-Elven that he will owe me greatly,” the powerful mage states as he creates a teleport circle for Kalhil to step through.
In the Lost Tomb of Kruk-Ma-Kali, the situation is dire; with screams of pain that freeze his companions in place, Nival Thriceborn transforms into a human-sized wolf, his gear and clothes falling to the ground around him. With a vicious snarl, he lunges at Cyrus, jaws snapping and dropping the monk to the ground. Realizing that the wolf is hardly friendly, the other members of the party spring into action but quickly discover it is faster and tougher than before; Alahandra is tripped and the wolf bounds away, obviously intent on escape. Racing through the corridors, the wolfen Nival rounds a corner and encounters Kalhil who, with a mighty swing of his greatsword, strikes the fleeing wolf with the flat of his blade, knocking it unconscious. Alahandra and Gilthoron recognize their old companion at once and the cleric of Corellon eagerly accepts his offered gifts; as she begins to cast the powerful spell on the scroll, Kalhil explains how he managed to arrive at the exact right moment – in the heat of the moment, Kalhil completely forgets to give Gilthoron the missive that is the entire purpose of his jaunt.
Drawing upon the power of her faith, Alahandra invokes the healing words inscribed upon the scroll; with a surge of magical energy, she removes disease upon the now-thoroughly bound wolfen Nival. Heartbeats pass as he transforms back into his normal form and he slowly regains his senses, recognizing Kalhil at once; once he is filled in on what happened to him, he relates a curious memory while in wolfen form: he distinctly remembers Cara smelling like a mate. Realizing that she is probably infected with lycanthropy as well, Alahandra gives her one of the potions sent by Celithral that she recognizes as wolfsbane (or belladona). Though there is no way to be sure, she is fairly confident that Cara is cured; just to be safe, Cyrus decides to keep an eye on her and on Nival. As Cyrus declares this, Nival recalls another odd memory from the brief moments when he possessed supernaturally keen senses while in wolfen form, though he does not relate this information to the rest of his companions: the monk’s smell was distinctly…wrong, as if her were tainted meat or otherwise spoiled food.
The party decides to camp for the evening and Gilthoron chats with Kalhil, reliving old times and catching up on current events; the elven swordsman finally remembers to give Gilthoron the missive from Lady Undomiel and the archer puts it away without opening it, planning to read it later while in privacy. The following morning, the heroes set out and discover an immense room with dozens of stone statues of orcs and three sarcophagi; after setting off several traps that cannot seem to be located, Cara uses her rope of climbing to avoid the traps entirely and get to the sarcophagi, which are upon a raised dais. Three thrones rest behind the massive stone biers; two are occupied by what appear to be preserved corpses; unable to budge the lids of the sarcophagi by herself, Cara asks for aid. Unwilling to risk traversing the trapped area, Nival suggests that he teleport most of his comrades to the raised dais, leaving behind Gilthoron and Tarrant; Cyrus, already in the trapped area, decides to jump up onto the still-secured rope of climbing and follow Cara’s path. Once upon the dais, Kalhil strains against the lid of the central sarcophagus; as it shifts to one side, the two corpses on the dais animate and attack the heroes.
It is a brutal battle that, for a moment, appears to weighed heavily against the heroes. The slower of the two creatures, a mummy lord from appearance, utters a blasphemy, which paralyzes Alahandra, Cara and Cyrus before looking upon Kheldane with a face so horrible that the swordsman is frozen in place with fear. Gilthoron realizes quickly that his arrows are ineffective against the other Undead creature and abandons attempts to harm it, leaving it to Kalhil and instead shifting fire to concentrate on the mummy lord that has already incapacitated half of the party. Nival unleashes his raw power at the Kalhil’s heavily armored foe and is surprised to find his magicks mostly ineffective against the creature; he narrowly eludes death as the mummy lord, realizing how dangerous Nival is, attempts to harm him with an outstretched hand but misses with his lunging attack. Gilthoron’s arrows find their targets, however, and the mummy lord falls.
The remaining Undead creature proves to be a deadly foe and utters a single power word that stuns Kalhil in place; as it gathers its hellish power to unleash abyssal fire, Gilthoron and Nival quickly counterattack, the former finally dropping the creature with a single well-placed arrow just as Kheldane shakes off his despair at the face of the mummy lord. Cara, once freed from her paralysis, claims the magical greataxe of the fallen Khielshior death knight before descending through the revealed staircase concealed within the central sarcophagus. Gilthoron and Tarrant rejoin the group by using the rope of climbing to get over the trapped area without triggering it.
The stairs lead to a room dominated by an eight-foot statue of an orcish king wearing a crown and wielding a massive black sword. After searching the room, Cara is able to determine that the statue can rotate on top of the pedestal and, after a brief discussion, the heroes decide to give it a try. As Nival rotates the statue clockwise, there is a sudden groan and most of the floor collapses underneath them. Cara and Kheldane spring out of the way, landing atop the small ledge that survives of the floor, but Alahandra and Nival are not so fortunate and plunge, seemingly to their doom. Thinking quickly, Nival grabs Alahandra’s hand and slows their descent to as a feather falls; peppered by debris from the falling floor, they finally land at the bottom, some hundred feet below. Once satisfied that their companions are not smashed corpses, the party pools their resources to get them out; Cara and Gilthoron tie ropes together and throw it to their companions at the bottom of the trap while Cyrus, Kalhil and Kheldane anchor the rope and pull the two up. Back at the top, Nival utilizes a mage hand to rotate the statue counter-clockwise; a loud grinding noise can be heard opposite of the door and, when Cara passes through the door, they discover that the rotation of the statue has moved a massive stone secret wall, allowing them access to the next room.
Aside from a few traps, including one that explodes in Cara’s face, the next room appears to be nothing extraordinary and the party pushes on through a revealed hallway; three times, Cara triggers traps and the party notes a distinct elemental motif from the traps. As they round a corner and start to make their way down another tunnel, Gilthoron detects a secret door and the party decides to follow it first. No traps are detected as they travel through the secret tunnel and enter another room that has only a single sarcophagus and a seated skeleton figure. Not to be fooled a second time, the heroes attack the seated figure and, as expected, it springs to its feet to retaliate; Nival, having inflicted the most damage, is the first target and the skeletal figure, moving faster than anyone would have expected, races to the Magister and drops him with a flash of blurring strikes. Light explodes from the creature’s sword as it strikes, blinding both Alahandra and Kalhil. Seeing Nival down and two of his party blinded and almost helpless, Kheldane springs into combat, swinging his greatsword with lethal precision as Cara and Gilthoron attack the creature from behind, almost entirely to no avail as its magically enchanted skin shrugs off most of their strikes. For long moments, the creature and Kheldane exchange blows but the human blademaster emerges triumphant; with a loud crash, the skeletal figure collapses onto the ground and the heroes realize that they must be nearing their objective if the obstacles continue to grow more difficult.

A Spreading Fire: the 16^th to the 17^th of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

Following their defeat of the skeletal golem, the heroes spend several hours resting and recovering lost spells; during this time, Kalhil bids his farewells to his old companions and utilizes the ring given to him by his new patron to teleport to Sillín. The following morning, Tarrant Hawkins brings to his master a scroll that simply appeared in his pack; the ex-thief is obviously concerned that he will be accused of theft but Nival, after reading the scroll, hands his apprentice a ring before disintegrating the scroll. He says nothing more about its contents.
Retracing their steps from the golem’s room, they take the path outside the secret door end enter a massive room where they see a skeletal figure wielding a massive black greatsword. Cara cautiously searches the chamber for traps but detects none and the group ready themselves for the inevitable movement of the corpse upon the throne as she utilizes her rope of climbing to wrap around the sword. With a loud crunch, the floor collapses; Gilthoron and Nival, both at the far end of the chamber, quickly leap to firm ground and the Magister reaches out with his Art to slow the descent of his companions. Cyrus reacts nearly as quickly, unlimbering his climbing rope and throwing the grappling hook to the surface. Bereft of additional ideas, Nival casts a massive web below the falling heroes and it successfully stops them some 60 feet or so from what appears to be a lava flow. After considerable difficulty, the heroes return to the upper levels in order to discuss their next action as the throne and black greatsword have already tumbled into the lava below. It is Kheldane who reminds them that they did not search the golem’s room and they retrace their steps once more.
After several long minutes of searching, Cara locates a concealed trigger upon the throne and opens it, revealing a massive chamber in which a small ledge snakes through the room and hangs over an ominously dark pit; wails and screams drift up from the pit but the heroes cannot see too far as thick black smoke obscures it. With a rope tied to her belt, Cara moves forward, checking the thin path for traps. Sharp-eyed as ever, Cyrus and Gilthoron note the rope acting oddly and point it out; Nival quickly casts a spell that allows him to see invisibility and glares at the imp that floats over the rope, it’s talons sawing at the threads. A scorching ray quickly rids the heroes of the imp and Cara continues to the other side, opening the door once she is assured that no traps exist and revealing a small passageway that leads to another door. Concerned at attempting to traverse the difficult pathway, Nival instead teleports all of his remaining companions save Cyrus to the passageway while the monk easily crosses the path without difficulty.
Beyond this door is a massive room covered in mirrors and a single doorway to the south; as Cara studies the southern exit for traps, the other characters file into the room to await her.
Suddenly, twisted caricatures of the heroes step out of the mirrors: a leering orcish Gilthoron hefts his bow; snarling half-orcs that are unmistakably Alahandra and Cara ready their weapons; hulking hobgoblin versions of Cyrus, Nival and Kheldane loom ominously. For the briefest of moments, the heroes are surprised but it is Nival who reacts first, tapping the maximum limits of his magical ability to unleash a powerful scorching ray at his dark opposite; with a hideous shriek and a burst of flame, the hobgoblin Nival falls. The battle explodes in a frenzy from that point with the true heroes emerging victorious as their sinister counterparts fall one-by-one. Utilizing Alahandra’s healing talents, the heroes are once more ready to push one and enter a massive treasure chamber.
Four massive statues of an orcish king loom in the corners of the room and a covered sarcophagus rests far away. Huddling in a large circle, the heroes discuss their options and Nival casts a magic circle against evil as Alahandra draws upon Pelor’s strength to gain his righteous might. Utilizing his mage hand, Nival Thriceborn twitches the cloth covering the sarcophagus free and, as they feared, the four statues animate and attack.
Almost from the beginning, the heroes realize they are in dire straits as Alahandra is dropped by massive fists and Nival Once-Elven sees many of his spells absorbed by the creatures without much effect. A general retreat is called for and the heroes begin backing out as the Thriceborn utilizes the last of his teleport ability to whisk the unconscious Alahandra and Cara to the mirror room before weaving a web inside the small passageway that connects the treasure room and the mirror room; though it will not stop the large stone golems, he hopes that it will slow them down. As the heroes continue their desperate retreat into the dangerous passageway overlooking what they fear is Hell, they are heartened to see that their efforts have paid off as one of the golems falls under concentrated attacks by Cyrus, Gilthoron, and Kheldane. Snapping his fingers, Nival has an epiphany and casts a spell that allows Alahandra to spider climb. He does this to each of the remaining heroes save Cara who traverses the shaky path without much difficulty. And, as the golems continue to slowly lumber forward, Gilthoron fires a smoke arrow at the doorway, hoping to conceal the length of the passageway and perhaps have it plunge to a fiery doom.

A Spreading Fire: the 18^th to the 21^st of Patchwall, Autumn, 592:

Retreating from the deadly room, the heroes regroup in a much more secure location and, after securing the door against a possible incursion by the golems, they settle in to rest and recover. Midway through the night, Kalhil, son of Kalheru, reappears with a loud bang; looking around his surroundings, he grumbles a number of curses under his breath upon realization that the ring given to him by Celithral failed to work and he’ll have to get back to Sillín the old-fashioned way.
As the next day dawns and the heroes ready themselves to take the fight back to the golems, Alahandra Alainsdotter disappears in a flash of celestial light; mildly disturbed by this chain of events, the heroes nonetheless press on. Nival Thriceborn casts spells that allow Kalhil and Kheldane to spider climb over the shaky path while Cara traverses it, not bothering to hide her disgust at Cyrus’ long jumps that allow him to evade the bulk of the path. As they make their way toward the spot where the golems were last seen, Gilthoron spies the most heavily damaged of the constructs and begins cautiously releasing arrows at it; he is quite surprised when twin magic missiles leap from the construct’s gem-like eyes and slam into his chest. With the Once-Elven Magister providing additional support in the form of several acid orbs, the two drop the golem before their comrades reach it.
Beyond the doorway, in the room where there were once enchanted mirrors, Kalhil spies another of the golems, this one standing before the now closed door leading to the massive treasure room. Cara, downing a potion of invisibility, sneaks into the room, evading the last of the golems which is hidden off to one side. Kheldane is not so fortunate as he springs into battle with the closest of the two golems even as Kalhil charges forward in a dangerous power lunge. As the battle kicks off, Nival Once-Elven quickly teleports himself and Gilthoron into the thick of it; though the elven archer is far closer than he would like to be, he nonetheless looses a rain of arrows at the foes. Subjected to brutal punishment, Kalhil topples to the ground, bleeding profusely, and the invisible Cara springs to his aid, forcing a potion of healing down his throat. Several heartbeats later, the heroes drop the two golems before spending long minutes gasping for breath. Using the last of their healing potions and the wand they acquired at Ulthront’s fort, the heroes restore most of their vitality before venturing into the treasure room.
Cara, having consumed the last of her potions of invisibility, takes point and advances with not a little bit of caution. As the other heroes slowly enter the room, a wave of uneasiness washes over them and all but Cara, Cyrus, and Gilthoron shift anxiously, unable to locate the sense of their unexpected fear. Suddenly, an armored figure drops from the ceiling and attacks the bulk of the group with brutal effect; his black greatsword appears to be suddenly transformed into a shaft of light as the sinister Kruk-Ma-Kali, somehow yet alive, strikes with lethal force.
With Gilthoron, Kalhil, and Kheldane stunned by an unseen force, the evil orc focuses instead upon the Magister, Nival Once-Elven; his blade bites deep and the Thriceborn staggers back, unleashing a powerful acid orb at his foe. Cara, yet invisible, strikes from behind with the massive greataxe she claimed from the fallen Khielshior death knight; with a roar of pain, Kruk-Ma-Kali retaliates by flowing into a deadly whirlwind attack. As the three stunned heroes begin to recover and reclaim their weapons, the orcish warlord alters tactics and begins focusing his strikes upon those with elven blood. He dodges Nival’s attempt to disintegrate him before dropping Cara with a lethal strike to the arm. Cyrus springs forward to attack him, then quickly retreats out of range; opting to shape the foreign energies in his arms into a focused strike, he recoils suddenly as a wave of nausea nearly overwhelms him. Trying to ignore the sensation of worms under his skin, he instead launches into a flurry of blows, many of which are turned aside by the deadly orc’s armor. It is Nival who finally drops the orc with another well-placed acid orb; as the deadly creature falls, the heroes stagger in surprise at an unheard scream that rips through their mind.
The heroes spend the next two days sifting through the treasure and organizing it; Nival makes a quick jaunt to Greyhawk City where he drops off Cara, her job completed. The rogue departs with a large bar of gold in her pack while the Thriceborn visits the temple of Pelor to restock the heroes with potions of healing. It is there that he runs into Aislyn Willowblade once more; she is eager to leave the city and bring the word of Pelor back to the world. From her, the heroes learn that Æthelred, son of Minastir, is now the Canon of the Order of Pelor, and that Oswulf departed Greyhawk some days ago, intent on travelling to Furyondy and joining with one of the border lords there – it appears that Oswulf’s experience with Nightfall’s weapon changed him more than anyone expected.
Back at the tomb, Gilthoron contemplates taking Kruk-Ma-Kali’s head but decides against it, instead hurling the body into the black abyss and hoping that it really is a gateway to hell; the thought of the ancient orcish warlord’s body torn apart by demons and devils is enough to bring a smile to the elven archer’s face.
Following Nival’s return and Aislyn’s rejoining of the company, they decide to head out immediately; despite Kalhil’s urging to “face the dragon” they have spoken so often of, they press north through the Lortmil Mountains. Two days from the tomb, the ground begins to tremble as a powerful earthquake strikes; topping a slight hill, the heroes find themselves staring at an unexpected sight: a large battle rages in the middle of the mountains between the orcish forces of an albino orc and familiar-looking creatures with wolf-like heads atop spider bodies. Unsure of who to root for, the heroes instead decide to skirt the battle and avoid notice but Gilthoron’s sharp eyes catch sight of a crumpled elven form at the feet of Môgnash the White and he is loath to leave a fellow eldar in such dire straits. Thinking quickly, Nival drapes a spell of greater invisibility upon himself, then teleports across the battlefield to grab the fallen elf; to his horror, the white orc looks directly at him. From two hundred feet away, Gilthoron’s elf eyes allow him to make out the shift in the orc’s posture and he releases a single shaft; it grazes the orc’s upper arm but distracts him just long enough for Nival to teleport away once more.
As the earthquake appears to treble in strength, the heroes hear the sound of an orcish battle horn from the south and Môgnash the White points directly at their location; confident in his power, Nival attempts to disintegrate the dangerous orc but narrowly avoids his own doom as the powerfully destructive spell is reflected back at him, missing his leg by mere inches by completely destroying his horse.
Orcish reinforcements top the hill behind the heroes and, with echoing battle cries, charge into the battle against the spyder-fiends even as the heroes take a side pass through the mountains. With a rumble of protesting rock, a mountain collapses behind them, sealing them off from the battle. Gilthoron is the last to turn away from the fallen rock and his face is a riot of conflicting emotions; Môgnash the White is said to have slain his parents some fifty years ago and someday, there will be a reckoning.
Safe from pursuit, the small company resumes their journey toward Sillín.

The Purest of Souls: the 22^nd of Patchwall, Autumn, to the 11^th of Sunsebb, Winter, 592:

With Gilthoron at their head, flanked by the rescued elven bard Orolonwë, the heroes press north for several weeks, their travel slowed considerably by the rugged mountainous terrain and their lack of steeds. Shortly after they cross into Sillín, a band of elven rangers, headed by an old friend of Gilthoron’s named Celebdraug, surround them with barely a sound. Once they have been interrogated to his satisfaction, Celebdraug agrees to allow them safe passage on to Caras Enstahd, the elven capital; to further speed their travel, he releases one of his youngest rangers, Gilrond, son of Gilthoron, to lead them forward.
A week passes as they trudge through the beautiful elven lands toward their destination. Words cannot begin to describe the glorious beauty of Caras Enstahd – towering ironwood tree dominate the landscape and loom over the city that sparkles like a glittering jewel in the sun. With Gilthoron leading them through his adopted home, they reach his sprawling home and meet his lovely wife, Undomiel. At a glance, it is obvious that Gilthoron married above his station as Undomiel bears the manners and grace of a noble born. Once their belongings are stowed and quarters set aside, the heroes are turned loose upon the city with the admonition to behave themselves.
Aislyn immediately seeks the shrine of Pelor, a small construction of marble that is surpassingly beautiful in its sheer starkness; while praying over the shrine, she is surprised to witness Alahandra’s reappearance in a manner consistent with that of a planar ally spell. The newly arrived cleric is horribly wounded, with scars and wounds that could have only been inflicted by demonic claws; though she does not speak of it to her friend, it is clear that Aislyn is greatly concerned by Alahandra’s state. Instead, she turns to treating her wounds and soothing her pains.
Cyrus, who has been unable to properly meditate for several weeks now, finds it increasingly more difficult to contain a swelling rage that seems to filling him and continues to fear that the fate of Baldwyk, son of Dalyk, is now his fate as well. He relates his inability to find an appropriate location for meditation to Gilthoron who promptly directs him to the great grove near the center of the city; here, few travellers venture and it is ideal for the young monk’s needs. As he settles in to focus on his inner discipline, Cyrus is startled to hear the sound of hauntingly beautiful singing; unable to resist his curiousity, he investigates and finds an achingly gorgeous elven lass frolicking with several nymphs. At his arrival, the nymphs dive into a lake, disappearing completely, while the elven lass admonishes the thunderstruck monk for interrupting their song. Once he has explained himself, the young elf maid introduces herself as Thoronwen; it is only later that Cyrus learns she is Gilthoron’s daughter.
Gilthoron finds his homecoming to be what he expected; the private time with his wife is distressingly short as she is often summoned to the court of Queen Iolandil. A visit to his sister’s shop quickly reveals that Gilwing has a lover once more; a good thing in Gilthoron’s mind, for she has grieved too long for her long-dead husband.
Nival Once-Elven finds himself neck-deep in work; the training of young Tarrant has proven to be far more difficult than he had ever expected, forcing him to turn to an old master, Celithral, son of Celithralith, who enlightens him on many of the finer points of tutoring young students. Ironically, it is also to Celithral that Cyrus turns for aid in identifying the curious bands that mark him, bands that no longer seem to be as distinct as they originally were. It is Celithral that suggests Cyrus seek additional knowledge from his monkly order and, to the young monk’s surprise, Nival readily agrees to teleport him to that destination. They discover only destruction, however, as the once-mighty House of Red Leaves has been struck down by an invading force. When Cyrus swears a soft oath to find those responsible and punish them with all of his might, he is mildly surprised at Nival’s offer of aid against the butchers. They return to the tranquil Sillín.
Kheldane, however, does not find Sillín to his liking as dark visions and images begin to overwhelm him shortly after he arrives. At times, he is unable to decipher what is real and what is not as the past – though not his past – threatens to overwhelm him. Fearful that something grows within him, something dark, he tries to find a purpose in training with the elven army, a task that he quickly excels at.
Time passes and winter roars into Sillín weeks early. The day of Glóredhel’s Raising comes and Undomiel arranges a magnificent dinner banquet. Cyrus, yet uncomfortable around the flawless Thoronwen, offers a lame excuse about not being able to attend and retreats to his place in the Grove, still unable to find a complete inner peace. The rest of Gilthoron’s companions attend, however, where they meet the rest of his family including the notorious Gilwë who quickly steals the show with an excellent round of music. An unrepentant ladies’ man, Gilthoron’s twin woos Aislyn with moderate success, his words of flattery quite appealing to the half-elf cleric; despite this, she remains strong in the face of his honeyed words and he departs the banquet unfulfilled.
The following day, Nival Thriceborn meets with Celithral near the cove as arranged to discuss Tarrant’s training and aspects of magic. As the two walk toward the magnificent ironwood trees, the archmage asks the young Magister if Nival would allow him to cast a spell that would allow Celithral the gift of true seeing; his mastery of the Art is warning Celithral that something is not entirely correct about Nival. Concerned, the Once-Elven agrees, then stares with absolute surprise at a sight he was not expecting to see: Laurelendil, the elven woman with which he shared a fling so many months ago in Shiboleth, stands alongside a small shrine, deep in conversation with Thoronwen and heavily pregnant. Celithral suddenly gasps, heartbeats before a ray strikes his chest and disintegrates him. Overhead, a massive reptilian form flashes by and the screams begin.
Cyrus, who has been in the grove since nightfall, emerges to see helmeted humanoids appearing around Thoronwen and an elven woman he barely recognizes; as Nival begins to turn to face the appearance of the wizard he recognizes as Shiner, the young monk springs forward to defend the two elven women heartbeats before several of the helmeted beings attack. He dances back and forth with them, augmented by several spells cast by the woman he now recognizes as Laurelendil, and drops several of them before he is overwhelmed and topples into unconsciousness.
Reacting quickly at Shiner’s sudden, unexpected appearance, Nival Thriceborn unleashes a stream of chain lightning that rips through his hated foe and several assembled villains. When Shiner appears to hesitate and casts a simple spell granting him fox’s cunning, Nival pounces, sending the maximum power he can through a scorching ray at the wizard. With a scream, Shiner topples…only to be revealed as a dark elf woman masked by an illusion. Seeing his monk friend badly pressed, he lashes out with magic, dropping two of their foes with similar spells but is unable to prevent a third foe from dropping Cyrus with a blow to the head. Rage bubbles up within the magister and he prepares to unleash a torrent of raw magical power but he has no time to act as an even more powerful buffet of arcane might slams into him; appearing nearby, the real Shiner speaks a single power word, stunning Nival.
The massive reptilian creature is revealed to be a huge black dragon as it spits a torrent of acid through the city of Caras Enstahd, incinerating whole buildings and slaying dozens. Dragonfear is thick over the city as the creature wings overhead but Kheldane finds himself strangely immune to it; he moves like a viper, slaying several of the marauders that have teleported into the city and now attack its citizens with wild abandon. Aislyn finds herself defending the Pelor shrine alone as Alahandra disappeared several hours before the strike in a manner that was identical to the planar ally spell. Across town, Gilthoron is forced to defend his sister’s shop with weapons that are not his own.
Twice, the huge dragon wings over Sillín, spitting acid with gruesome results both times. On the third sweep, Aislyn is forced to abandon the Pelor shrine as the creature’s breath weapon cuts through it with horrific ease. Kheldane finds himself directly in the path of the dragon’s acid but is strangely unafraid; despite the distance separating them, he feels them lock gazes. The black’s acid stream and flight falters and slows; massive wings yet flapping, it comes to a complete stop mere inches from Kheldane, its huge head so close to his that he can feel the heat radiating from it. The world seems to slow, to pause, as they lock gazes, both tensed; though he cannot explain it, Kheldane knows, in an instant, that this great dragon is terrified of him. It draws a breath – whether to breath upon him acidic death, or to converse he cannot know – and he lunges without hesitation, his greatsword Ilüroch piercing the monster’s eye and stabbing deep into its brain. With a hollow boom, the dragon collapses to the ground, crushing several beings under its massive bulk; at its death, the attackers turn to flee even as the defenders roar with renewed valor and hope. Though he has little understanding of what has transpired, Kheldane raises his sword aloft and leads the elves forward to victory.
Near the grove, a helpless Nival stares with hate in his eyes as he watches Shiner stride toward Laurelendil and an unconscious Thoronwen; Gilthoron’s daughter is hefted immediately by one of the helmeted humanoids who speaks to Shiner in a tongue that Nival does not recognize. For a moment, Nival thinks that Laurelendil is going to fight the sinister archmage but she freezes in place at a word; when asked who has fathered her child, her eyes drift to the immobilized Nival, betraying her. Shiner smiles, colder than winter’s heart, as he studies her; he pushes up Cyrus’ sleeves to reveal the unusual marks, but reveals nothing. As his lackeys gather the two women – one unconscious, one bound – around him, the archmage looks the magister in the eyes, speaking in a mocking voice: “It would appear, Once-Elven, that my interest in you has finally paid off.” Speaking a word of power, the diabolical archmage disappears with his prize, leaving behind only destruction, pain and fury.

The Purest of Souls: the 7^th of Needfest, Winter, to the 1^st of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

Twenty days have passed since the unexpected and brutal assault upon Caras Enstahd, the heart of elven dominion upon Oerth, and much has happened in that time. The revelation that the attacking force were elves (though of unknown origin) has paralyzed the government of Sillín; instead of taking action as one would expect, the eldar lords have instead turned to long-winded and pointless discussions that accomplish little. Not for the first time, the long-view taken by olven peoples holds them back.

Laurelendil and Thoronwen were not the only captives taken; within hours of the attack, the Company learns that no less than forty elven maidens were seized by the masked attackers. Disturbingly, the pregnant Laurelendil is the only one taken who was not considered a child by elven standards…
While rifling through the meager belongings left behind the pregnant Laurelendil, Nival Thriceborn discovered a ring of wizardry that is identical in every way to the one that he currently wears; further investigation has revealed that his current ring is a flawless copy that appears to allow Shiner to defeat anti-scrying magics cast upon the wearer and to conceal the diabolical wizard’s own scrying spells. Too late, Nival realizes that Laurelendil appears to have switched the rings while in slept in Shiboleth, no doubt at Shiner’s behest…
Furious that the sinister archmage appears to have used him again and that he is at least partially responsible for the abduction of Thoronwen, the Once-Elven Magister has thrown himself into locating his elusive enemy, completely focused on seeking vengeance. Despite his best efforts, however, Shiner’s location continues to elude him, forcing Nival Thriceborn to resort to alternate means that could imperil his soul…
As the elven government continues to argue itself into gridlock, the other heroes find themselves growing more frustrated by each day. Gilthoron, never a patient person, now chafes at not accomplishing anything, his worry over his abducted daughter manifesting itself in a barely contained rage that always threatens to explode forth. Cyrus blames himself for Thoronwen’s abduction, though it is clear that he did what he could to protect her; his own self-control is hanging on by a thread as the mysterious tattoos upon his arms continue to become more indistinct even as the monk grows more gaunt. Only their devout faith in Pelor has kept Aislyn and Alahandra from despair; the former has found herself falling into more of a leadership position despite her efforts otherwise as the latter continues to evolve into a more martial priest of the Shining One – though she does not speak of what happened to her, it is obvious that Alahandra was affected by the time she spent on the Outer Planes…
Of Kheldane, the best thing that can be said is that he has developed a powerful following among the dispossessed half-elves of Sillín. Called Dragonslayer for his part in the battle, he has found young displaced half-elven fighters flocking to his banner, all hoping to become part of his growing legend. Many seek to emulate him, driving themselves to absolute exhaustion and burying themselves in a workload that should be impossible to manage; none of them realize that he does so to avoid thinking of what happened – or what is happening – to him. He sleeps little and what little rest he gets appears to be tortured and fitful; to his longtime companions, he always appears to be on the verge of saying something before reconsidering. Were they not all already distracted by their own personal demons, they would notice the change…
Twenty days after the dragonstrike, the Company finds itself far to the north, deep within the Vesve Forest. It is here, Nival Once-Elven insists, that his magical talents has led them. Here they will learn what destiny holds for them…
As the 7^th of Needfest draws to a close, Gilthoron encounters an unexpected sight: a group of the “Dragon Elves” (for want of a better identification) have surrounded and ambushed a band of armored warriors deep within the forest. Though he is far ahead of the Company, the elven archer acts without hesitation, pausing only long enough to send a single signal arrow back to his companions before engaging the elvish barbarians with his longbow. Kheldane reacts instantly, issuing orders for his followers to assume combat formation.
The Company charges forward into the battle and their might quickly overwhelms the barbarians. Cyrus, ever fast, races into the thick of the fray, drawing away several of the elves from the main column; once pursued, he somersaults into a tree, then flips over the barbarians with ease. Aislyn combines her arcane talents to those of Nival and together, the two wreak havoc upon the barbarians with summoned lightning bolts. As the apparent leader of the barbarians charges toward the Company, Nival slices through a massive tree with a ray of arcane disintegration, causing it to topple atop the elf. Enraged, the elven barbarian rips free and charges forward but Kheldane drops him with terrifying ease.
Heartbeats after it has begun, it is over, with all of the barbarians slain and the Company having taken mere scratches in return. A single survivor of the ambushed party yet lives and Nival recognizes him as a paladin from Shiboleth. Squire Caradoc, son of Ealhstan, graciously thanks the heroes for their timely aid and accepts Aislyn’s offer of healing. The young paladin reveals complete ignorance regarding the “Dragon Elves”, informing the Company that he was accompanying Sir Theodoric, son of Theodred, to a northern keep as bearers of missives intended for the eyes of the Right Honorable Sir Vigilant Roc Talamar, son of Thraydin, a paladin of Heironeous and their liege lord. Recognizing Sir Talamar’s name from their time in Shiboleth, the heroes press for information regarding the paladin’s mission but young Caradoc is either ignorant or hesitant to speak of it. Since his destination appears to be on their way, Kheldane offers to escort Caradoc the rest of the way, an offer the paladin accepts without hesitation.
After seeing to the burial of the many slain including Sir Theodoric who fell before the Company arrived, the heroes retire for the night, with Nival utilizing his talents to erect a number of secure shelters against the cold weather. The following morning, the Company presses on with the heroes pressing Squire Caradoc for information regarding events of the world. Rumors of war in the east are strong but, given the state of events in the once “Great Kingdom” of Aerdy, that is no surprise. What is surprising is word of events some months old; Canon Hazen of Veluna, the elderly priest who was directly responsible for the Flight of Fiends, recently sought divine guidance regarding the Oerth-wide failure of resurrection spells from Rao, the Mediator; before an immense crowd of the Faithful, Canon Hazen emerged from the experience shaken and related a dread prophecy: “And it shall come to pass, in the days when the Circle is sundered, when the right hand falters, and the left hand strays, that mortalkind shall come to the crossroads of twilight and all that is, all that was, and all that will be shall balance on the point of a sword, while the winds of Darkness grow. And that what mortals made shall be shattered, and the Shadow shall lie across the Weave of Istus, and the Dark Gods shall once more lay hands upon the world of man. Women shall weep and men quail as the nations of Oerth are rent like rotting cloth. Neither shall anything stand nor abide. Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow In sackcloth and ashes shall he clothe the people and he shall break the world by his coming, tearing apart all ties that bind. Like the unfettered dawn shall he blind us, and burn us, yet he shall confront the Shadow at the Last Battle, and his blood shall give us the Light. Let tears flow, O ye people of the world. Weep for your salvation.” And so saying, Canon Hazen collapsed and passed from this world, succeeded by Jolene of Samprastadar, once the betrothed of the lost Prince Thrommel. The heroes keep any thoughts to themselves and relate their own dark story regarding the hunt for abducted elves.
Late in the day, as the Company prepares to set up camp, they come across a curious sight: an immense pavilion stretches over a wide clearing. Detecting no hostile intent or evil, the Company investigates where they meet Chodei-rin Ake, a ki-rin of impressive power and friendly disposition who informs the heroes that he has traveled a great distance to speak with them. After an extraordinarily filling meal for the entire Company, Chodei-rin tells the heroes a tale:

“Aeons ago, in the Age of Legends, a great war arose between Law and Chaos. The roots of the conflict are obscure, shrouded in the mists of antiquity. Suffice to say the Great Powers of Law and Chaos waged war on worlds beyond comprehension. No thought was given to Good or Evil, for this was a conflict for dominance untainted by any other considerations.
“Arrayed on the side of Law were the Wind Dukes of Aaqa, scions of an empire already ancient at the war’s beginning. The champion of Chaos was an enigmatic being known only as the Queen of Chaos. And her champion was Miska, the Wolf-Spider.
“He was a demonic force unlike any other, as powerful as any of the ancient tanar’ri lords, and he led the Queen’s forces to victory time and time again. Sensing defeat, the Wind Dukes forged a weapon of Absolute Law to slay Miska, a Rod of black metal. At the battle of Pesh, here on Oerth, the Captains of Law drove a wedge into the ranks of Chaos and smote Miska with the Rod.
“Stricken, the Wolf Spyder wailed in anguish and his screams were so terrible that every soldier on the battlefield fell in agony. As he writhed in agony, his foul blood covered and permeated the Rod and, as the absolute Law imbued in the Rod mingled with the absolute Chaos in Miska’s blood, the fabric of the multivers was ripped asunder. The Rod shattered into seven pieces and Miska was cast through a planar rift.
“The sundering of the Rod spared Miska from death, but a portion of his being remained in the Rod, leaving the general crippled. When the Wolf Spyder retreated to a citadel of Chaos, the Wind Dukes struck, imprisoning him in a cocoon of pure law and casting him into the depths of Pandemonium.”

It is to the segment of the Rod of Seven Parts that the spyder-fiends are drawn to and Cyrus, who carries it by unspoken agreement with Alahandra, can almost feel its latent power in the presence of the ki-rin. Without hesitation, Nival asks how the heroes can prevent the spyder-fiends from returning and Chodei-rin responds that only by accomplishing the Rod’s created purpose. The heroes exchange long looks before agreeing that, once they have rescued Laurelendil and defeated Shiner, they will focus their efforts into this Quest. Though he is not a part of the Company, Sir Caradoc offers his own services for such a noble goal.
Satisfied that the heroes are not base villains, Chodei-rin offers them some minor assistance in the form of knowledge. A wielder of the Rod need only think of the segment in which he carries as part of something greater and he will get a general sense of direction of the nearest segment. To rebuild the Rod, awesome magicks are needed, among which are hairs from powerful Lawful creatures who are both Good and Evil; these hairs must be used to fashion a brush which can be used to paint the arcane joining symbols upon the segments. Failure to follow the appropriate steps will cause both segments to teleport away in random directions. Chodei-rin Ake grants the Company hairs from his mane, a powerful gift of trust as such components can make dangerous spell components for less altruistic masters of the arcane art.
Seizing quickly on the ki-rin’s perceived knowledge, Cyrus asks him to identify the now indistinct markings upon his arms; though they were sharp and vivid in color, they have dulled to dark spots that wrap around the flesh as if mottled bruises. Chodei-rin identifies them at once as shia nin fis and appears surprised that the young monk does not know of what he bears; “For are you not the Master of shia nin fis?” the ki-rin asks to which Cyrus grudgingly reveals that he fears he is. The rest of the Company save Nival eye the markings with ill-concealed surprise; until this moment, only the Magister was aware of their existence.
The ki-rin is unable (or unwilling) to answer questions not touching upon the Rod, claiming to be too unfamiliar with the state of affairs among the Greater Powers. As a gesture of goodwill, he makes a powerful wish upon a barrel of water; unless the wood is pierced by cold iron or destroyed by magic, it will always be full of clean water suitable for drinking. He leaves behind the great tent as well for he needs them not; when Nival displays an amazing leap of logic regarding Chodei-rin Ake’s presence on Oerth, the ki-rin’s parting words to him are haunting: “I see now why the Uncaring One watches you; you are very dangerous…”
It is only later in the evening, as he prepares to take his rest for the night, that Nival Thriceborn realizes that the ki-rin looked at Kheldane only once and flinched discretely when he did so. He decides to observe the swordsmen the followers refer to as Dragonslayer much closer…

The Purest of Souls: the 2^nd of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

Midday finds the Company hidden in ambush, awaiting a small convoy of Dragon Elves leading two covered wagons. Evenly splitting up his followers under the command of his fellow companions, Kheldane quickly lays out a plan of attack. Though both Cyrus and Squire Caradoc are uncomfortable with the ambush plan, they realize the wisdom in the plan and grudgingly accept that it is necessary.
As the convoy enters the ambush site, a storm of arrows rain down upon the sinister elves. Nival unleashes a chain of lightning that tears through the ranks of the elves with lethal results; Aislyn follows his lead with an equally destructive fireball that incinerates several of the elves. With a roar, the leader of the elves commands his followers to engage the Company. It is at this point that Kheldane’s choice of terrain is revealed to be flawless.
Forced to charge up iced-over hills, the progress of dragon elves is slowed to a veritable crawl, leaving them open to further arrow shots. With Aislyn and Nival unleashing dangerous magicks, the Company cuts down their foes but not without casualties: three of Kheldane’s loyal followers fall. The elvish leader Nival slays with awesome magicks: a purple ray of arcane might disintegrates the villain.
With the dragon elves dead of in full flight, the Company turns their attention to the captured wagons, discovering ten of the captured elvish women contained within. At the first sight of males, the women draw back in horror with every indication of having been abused. Shooing the males away, Aislyn draws from the abused women their story: abducted from Caras Enstahd, the females have spent the entire time of the trip locked up in the captured wagons; of Thoronwen, the females know only that she was taken north toward the “Black Ice” some days ago by the largest of Dragon Elves. Realizing that there is no way these tortured souls will stomach the touch of Nival, Aislyn suggests the Magister polymorph himself into the appearance of a female and teleport the women back to Sillín, a suggestion that the Once-Elven agrees to. As he and Aislyn are dealing with the women, Kheldane quickly instructs his followers to strip the fallen elves of their arms and armor and store them in the captured wagons. The three slain members of his warband are placed inside the wagons as well, to be laid to rest with honors at earliest opportunity.
The temperature dips precipitously as the slain are stripped and Gilthoron recognizes dangerous weather approaching; though Squire Caradoc had urged the elves be treated with honor the previous day, his disgust at the treatment of the elvish captives is quickly evident as he has no arguments at leaving their bodies to the wild. Once the area is completely secure and Nival has returned from Sillín, the Company pushes on, hoping to reach Caras Ereg, an elvish stronghold perched on the edge of Iuz’s border.
An hour into the journey, a patrol consisting of four elves intercepts the Company, somehow managing to elude Gilthoron’s keen eyes and the eyes of his scouting party. Led by an elf named Taraldur, the patrol is ranging from Caras Ereg, the so-called “Castle Briar” and investigating sightings of unknown parties in the region. Quickly realizing that word of the attack on Sillín has yet to reach this far north, the Company quickly relates their mission regarding the abducted elven women. With an apparent winter storm gathering, Taraldur suggests the Company make their way to Caras Ereg; in the middle of this conversation, an unmistakably elven horn sounds in the distance. Taraldur orders one of his three subordinates to escort the Company to the keep before he and the other two take off at a dead run. Gilthoron is able to identify the horn as a recall signal and quietly attempts to interest Orolonwë in a wager that the horn has absolutely nothing to do with the winter storm; the Orc-Slayer’s cohort is uninterested in taking the bet.
With their escort, a young elf named Celarion, pushing them to make better time, the Company rushes through the woods with two of Kheldane’s followers at the reins of the captured wagons. As they break through the outer edge of the woods, Nival catches sight of movement in the trees to the east; further examination reveals this movement to be a fur-clad human woman running through the trees, pursued by several dozen large monstrous creatures that several members of the Company recognize as the unfamiliar Iuzian forces they faced in the Pomarj. The female appears to have no trouble traversing the frozen turf, flying over the snow and ice as if it were flat grassland. Halting at the edge of the cleared forest, the creatures begin to line up in some sort of formation and make no attempt to further pursue either the fur-clad woman or the Company as they quickly enter Caras Ereg.
Inside the keep, controlled chaos reigns as the defenders feverishly prepare to face an attack. Though it is an elvish keep, a human commands; bellowing orders, the Company recognizes the Right Honorable Sir Vigilant Roc Talamar, son of Thraydin, a Knight of the Watch from Shiboleth, as he directs the defenders to their positions. He recognizes Squire Caradoc immediately and frowns, but realizing that the Company has armored men, quickly asks who commands. Kheldane introduces himself and offers their aid, an offer that is eagerly accepted. Dispatched to the defend the north wall, the Company arrives in time for Kheldane to organize the defenders in a better fashion. The fur-clad woman, a wanderer from the northern tribes named Calista Colbeysdottir, finds herself lumped into the ranks of the Company and finds herself commanding the already present elvish defenders.
With loud roars, the monstrous creatures lurch forward to charge the walls only to discover the devastating magics of Aislyn and Nival. Immense fireballs ravage their ranks, dropping fully half of the attackers in the opening moments of the battle; arrows loosed from the defenders bow are nearly as lethal with Gilthoron unsurprisingly the most deadly. The field outside the keep is littered with the bodies of the slain creatures; none of them even reach the moat.
The rest of the keep is not as fortunate, having no arcane casters present. The south wall is nearly breached before the creatures are finally repulsed with the defenders suffering serious casualties. Defenders at the east and west walls suffered minor casualties but there were no breaches. As the surviving creatures, dubbed Trollocs by Nival, retreat to just out of bowshot range, augmented by dozens and possibly hundreds more, several of the Company see sinister figures that are obviously the commanders of the creatures seated atop evil-looking destriers; despite the biting wind, the cloaks of these dark-clad creatures hang straight, undisturbed by the strong gusts.
Sir Talamar is grateful for the heroes’ aid in defending the keep and agrees to meet with Kheldane and the watch commanders to coordinate the defense. To their surprise, the heroes discover that Oswulf, son of Ceowulf, is one of the defenders; now battle-hardened and sporting a relatively fresh facial scar, their old companion reveals that he has been serving as a courier in the Marklands and is at Caras Ereg though unfortunate circumstance, having been tasked to deliver missives to the Lord of the Keep but was caught by the sudden winter storm.
As day turns to night, the winter storm intensifies and the defenders begin setting in for a long siege, unaware of what the future holds for them…

The Purest of Souls: the 2^nd of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

With twilight rapidly approaching, Sir Talamar accedes to Kheldane’s suggestion regarding a commander’s meeting to discuss potential defensive strategies. The paladin of Heironeous and Knight of the Watch opens the impromptu meeting with a quick statement intended mostly for the Company: “Some of you are newcome to Caras Ereg, so I shall be brief; I command here only at the request of Lady Athsil who, rightfully so it seems, feared that her husband’s death was no accident. These creatures…these trollocs have proven to be strong and fast, more so than orcs, but seem to harbor no special defenses that axe and sword cannot break. Captain Kheldane’s forces inflicted heavy casualties on them and I suspect that the north wall will see much more action ‘ere the battle is over.”
Discussions quickly turn to probable tactics with Kheldane dominating the floor with his superior tactical intelligence; though some fifty of the trollocs fell before the Company’s might, hundreds more yet await in the encampment surrounding Caras Ereg and Kheldane reveals a concern that they will overwhelm the defenders. As the commanders continue their discussions, elvish battle horns echo over the keep, signaling a resumption of the attack. From his runners, Sir Talamar quickly learns that the trollocs approach in mass with the greatest numbers marching on the north wall.
As the Company reaches the wall and assumes command, they realize that the trollocs indeed march in numbers: over a hundred of the monstrous creatures charge forward over the snow and ice. Instantly, Aislyn Willowblade draws upon her Art to call down a deadly ice storm that strikes with lethal power, slaying dozens, even as Nival Thriceborn sends a brilliant fireball against a second unit with similar results. Mere seconds have passed and already fifty trollocs lie in the snow, frozen solid or as charred and steaming corpses. Orders to let fly sound and the darkening sky is filled with arrows.
This time, however, the Iuzian forces have not come unprepared. Even as the two arcane casters wreak havoc upon the trolloc ranks, a sinister mage makes his move. Invisible, the evoker creates a dimension door that allows him to traverse the battlefield in heartbeats before unleashing a coruscating lightning bolt among Nival’s unit, slaying several of Kheldane’s followers and wounding the Once-Elven. The two welders of the Art exchange powerful spells with similar results; the rest of Nival’s defenders fall even as the Once-Elven badly wounds his invisible foe. Realizing that he is ill-equipped to face Nival and the rest of the defenders of the wall despite his invisibility, the evoker retreats through the use of a second dimension door.
At nearly the same time, an equally dangerous creature steps from the shadows, its black cloak hanging limp in the powerful wind. Though many of the defenders quail before its eyeless face, Kheldane Dragonslayer finds himself strangely unaffected and exchanges blows with the creature, easily besting it. As the evoker did before, the eyeless creature retreats, stepping back into the shadows to fade away. Furious that his foe has escaped, Kheldane steps back to the forefront, bellowing commands and directing fire.
The grounds directly before Aislyn Willowblade have turned into a charnel zone; mangled corpses, some frozen solid even as some are yet steaming, scatter the field and are evidence of her sorcererous mastery. Yet not all of the trollocs fall before her as two units break through the killing field and begin scaling the outer wall. On opposite ends of the north wall, Cyrus Wingfoot and Gilthoron Orc-Slayer exhort their fellow defenders to throw the vile creatures back. The battle on Gilthoron’s tower grows grim as the elven archers fall under the wicked scythe-like blades, leaving only Gilthoron and Orolonwë yet standing. Nival leaps into the breach, unleashing raw Magic from his burning hands even as Kheldane springs into the gap, his greatsword flashing. The breach is repulsed.
Clearly unaccustomed to command, Cyrus Wingfoot desperately tries to rally his own forces as they are pushed back from their defensive positions but, despite his shouts to attack, panic sets in and the unexperienced warriors fall back, allowing the trollocs to gain a beachhead atop the north wall. Calista, the northron warrior-maid, recognizes the monk’s dire position and orders her own troops to augment his as they charge back into the battle, intent on repulsing the breach; it turns out to be exactly what was needed as the trolloc forces are sent reeling over the wall. Horns sound the retreat once more and the defenders are left gasping in exhaustion. The walls have held but at a fearsome price.
Kheldane is able to take in their immediate problems at a glance; though the defenders have thrown back the attackers, there are simply too many of the sinister creatures and not enough men to man the walls. Already formulating plans of retreat that he fears will be necessary, he gives commands to evacuate the wounded to the Keep where a triage is already being set up even as he desperately seeks a way to win this battle. Needing intelligence on the size of the attacking force, he asks for volunteers to scout the enemy camp and readily agrees to allow Oswulf the task; with a cocky grin, the Keoish rogue goes over the side of the wall and disappears into the night.
Quickly realizing that the Keep is no place to recover expended magical energy, Nival Once-Elven erects a secure shelter, expending the last of his magical power. It is quickly decided that he, Aislyn and Orolonwë will retire at once, hoping to recover sufficiently to face the trollocs fresh and with a full complement of spells at their disposal. Deciding that rest on a full stomach is far better, Nival wanders off to find some food and finds himself in the Great Hall of the Keep, now converted to a massive triage center. Something out of place draws his attention but, try as he might, he cannot find the source. Suddenly, he feels an excruciating pain and looks down in horror as the blade of a short sword emerges from his stomach; he collapses in a pool of his own blood having never seen his attacker and darkness dims his eyes.
At the secure shelter, Aislyn Willowblade prepares to retire when she feels eyes upon her. Glancing around, she discovers Alahandra in conversation with an terrifyingly beautiful elf male and realizes that she is looking at an archon. Alahandra nods in agreement to whatever the celestial had just said and accepts his offered hand; as the two begin to fade out of view, the celestial speaks: “Choose.” Alahandra’s eyes zero in on Aislyn. “Her,” she whispers, an odd look on her face; “So be it,” the archon says calmly before the two disappear.
Calista Colbeysdottir finds herself tasked to manual labor duties, primarily those of shoring up the sagging defenses, due no doubt to her immense strength and unflagging endurance. While going about her duties, she sees an old crone staring at her with completely sightless eyes. Mildly perturbed at the crone’s uncanny ability to track her movements, the northron warrior-maid brings the old woman a mug of water. Cackling almost maniacally, the old woman whispers in a cracked voice,“The wind told me you would come, daughter of Colbey. The snow whispers your name, the ice cries for release. The ghost bears are all but gone, leaving only Kyndig’s childe.” Despite her best efforts, Calista is unable to get the woman to expound on her cryptic statement.
While inspecting the repaired defenses, Kheldane Dragonslayer hears some angry voices and, upon investigation, finds a five elves led by one he recognizes as Celarion having backed a dark-skinned half-elf woman into a corner. Since he cannot understand elvish, he has no idea what is being said BUT one does not need to speak the language to recognize the ugliness behind the words. Celarion is the spokesman of the group and coldly informs Kheldane: “Leave, human. This does not involve you.” With a face that is nearly as cold as the dipping temperatures and a voice that is colder, the Keoish swordsman replies, ordering the elves back to their duties. Something in his manner terrifies the five and they quickly back down, abandoning the woman to him. At a glance, he is able to determine that she is half-drow, no doubt the product of rape, but bears herself with confidence and poise. Her name, she reveals, isMiyatar and she is a disciple of Zodal, the god of mercy and benevolence. A healer by trade, she thanks him for his timely assistance and accepts his offer of protection in the Company. Not yet finished, Kheldane tracks down Celarion and forcibly escorts the elf to his commander. Taraldur listens angrily, his eyes full of fury, and assures the Dragonslayer that appropriate punishment will be meted out.
Inside the Keep, Kheldane is surprised to discover Nival among the wounded but does not stop Miyatar as she kneels before the Magister to work her healing art. From the wound, she reveals, it appears that the Thriceborn was stabbed in the back; he is fortunate to have been in a room filled with healers and surgeons, even if most are only battlefield surgeons. At her healing touch, Nival is restored to some semblance of health and reveals that he was a victim of an apparent assassin; now concerned that invisible slayers stalk the fortress, Kheldane orders a guard to be set upon the secure shelter: if the three casters are slain, all is lost.
As the night drags on, Gilthoron Orc-Slayer finds himself walking duty and acting as a commander, something he had never before expected to be doing. He interacts with Sir Talamar, learning that the Knight of the Watch was given a diplomatic assignment to Highfolk at the urging of Sir Bodwell, whom Talamar holds in extraordinarily low esteem. Once Gilthoron reveals his own issues with the knight, particularly those involving Bodwell’s dispatch of Sir Wulfric (with whom Gilthoron was traveling) into a certain death situation, Talamar thaws a bit toward the elvish archer. Of Bodwell, the paladin states “I mistrust him more than I can say; he is not evil…that I would be able to detect…but I fear he walks a dark path that will lead to much suffering.”
A little bit later, as Gilthoron is finishing his rounds and preparing to retire himself, he hears a soft crooning over the wail of the wind and follows the sound to a darker corner of the fortress where he sees what appears to be a couple locked in an embrace. A second look, however, reveals this not to be the case; instead, some sort of sinister abomination appears to have wrapped Sir Talamar up in leathery wings and is kissing him; even as he looks on in horror, Gilthoron is convinced that he sees Talamar becoming…less than he was.
Reacting instinctively, the Orc-Slayer reacts, fitting an arrow to his bowstring and letting fly in a heartbeat; the arrow sails true, piercing the creature’s temple as if sinking into a melon but the damage is already done; Talamar drops to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut even as the abomination topples. Though the paladin still breathes, he does not wake and no amount of shaking or yelling revives him. Taraldur is one of the first elves at the spot, summoned by Gilthoron’s call, and he stares at Talamar’s unmoving body with no small amount of trepidation; “Lady Athsil must know,” he declares before leaving. Within minutes, he reappears with a summons for Gilthoron, son of Glorthoron the Mighty.
Lady Athsil is as beautiful as elvish rumors state and very stiff; she greets Gilthoron in a formal manner: “I greet you in peace, son of Glorthoron the Mighty, whose deeds yet warm Our heart, and ask for your words of wisdom for it is said that Gilthoron Orc-Slayer knows much of war and Caras Ereg much needs that wisdom.” At no time does she speak anything but elven but her needs are quickly obvious: if Sir Talamar is incapacitated, someone must take command of the defenses of Caras Ereg. Again, Gilthoron reacts without hesitation, relating that Kheldane Dragonslayer is most suited for the role. Lady Athsil is surprised and does not try to hide this fact; “You would have a Man serve as defender of thegloorin kordof? Talamar, son of Thraydin, was a paladin and understood our charge; but this…Kheldane? What does he know of elvish honor?” The moment Gilthoron hears the word gloorin kordof, he realizes what Caras Ereg protects – the golden apples of lost elvenkind, said to represent the immortality of the race. According to ancient legend, upon the day that the last of the gloorin kordof trees falls, so too does the last of the elven race; no elf truly knows whether this tale is true but none of them wish to test it and find out – it’s simply a matter of faith now. Yet despite this newfound fact, or perhaps due to it, Gilthoron again urges her to appoint Kheldane as commander: “The best suited for the task must be appointed, no matter what face he wears,” the Orc-Slayer states with the wisdom of his years. Lady Athsil studies him for a long moment, then nods once. “I will trust your judgement in this matter, son of Glorthoron who was Lost. If you say this Man can defend the golden apples, then it must be so.” When Gilthoron takes this news to Kheldane, the elvish archer immediately notices a change in the swordsman, a change that is more than just the burden of command. Something about Kheldane has changed, something indefinable, and the Orc-Slayer decides to keep a close eye upon his friend.
Oswulf returns several hours later, exhausted and lightly wounded from many narrow misses. He quickly relates the layout of the forces as he saw them: several hundred – no more than six – of the trollocs encircle the fortress and the sign of Iuz is prominently displayed. Once all of Kheldane’s questions are answered regarding the disposition of their foe, Oswulf is ordered to seek some rest but Cyrus corners him first. The monk had earlier noticed a glint of recognition in the Keoish rogue’s eyes when he look at the bands encircling Cyrus’ arms. Oswulf quickly relates that he saw something similar:“I’ve seen the like before, some weeks back before winter set in. Tall human, dark-skinned, bald and covered with tattoos; called himself…Elderic? Eldacar? Yeah, Eldacar. Killed some men in Chendl – monks who dress like you – ‘cause they wouldn’t tell him where the shining fist was. Scary guy he was, with glowing hands that burned. King Belvor signed a proclamation declaring his life forfeit but this guy Eldacar just disappeared. People might mistake you for him…” Recognizing his hated enemy’s name, Cyrus threatens his old friend with violence should he reveal this to anyone else; it is yet another sign of the growing madness that is swelling within the young monk.
An hour before dawn, the drums begin…

The Purest of Souls: the 3^rd of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

The wail of war horns echoes over the scream of winter winds, warning the defenders of Caras Ereg of an impending attack. Having been awake the entire night formulating defensive strategies, Kheldane Dragonslayer is already prepared for the coming assault: the troops under his command stand ready to repulse the attackers. The south wall, already breached in several locations, is the focus of the heaviest fighting and is in this place that Calista Colbeysdottir and Kheldane Dragonslayer can be found. Atop the keep towers, Aislyn Willowblade and Nival Thriceborn lend their arcane might to the battle, unleashing mighty fireballs that envelop entire ranks of the attacking beasts. Standing alongside Aislyn, Gilthoron Orc-Slayer directs the fire of the archers, his own longbow singing its deadly song.
Though badly outnumbered, the defenders of Caras Ereg put up a defense worthy of a bard’s tale. Calista Colbeysdottir, her axe Frost Reaver in hand, cuts down a trolloc captain of immense size and strength, burying the blade of her weapon in his chest in a display of awesome might. Surrounded by trollocs, Kheldane, once called Stormbringer, lays about with his greatsword with frightening results, hewing through their ranks as if reaping so much wheat. One of the eyeless creatures strides forward to face him in single combat and falls, its head half-severed from its body.
From his vantage point atop the keep, Nival Once-Elven has a clear view of the battlefield and directs his arcane mastery accordingly, raining down magical fire amongst the trolloc ranks. The actions of one of the eyeless creatures attracts his attention and he quickly deduces that this creature is a captain of some sort as it seeks to direct the trolloc attackers in a flanking manuever. With a grim smile, Nival Thriceborn points his staff in the captain’s direction and a thin green ray leaps forward, enveloping the eyeless creature with terrible results: for an instant, it becomes a strange shadow of itself, all colors reversed, and then it is made of sparkling motes that break apart, smaller and smaller, until there is nothing. In retaliation, an identical ray leaps toward the Once-Elven Magister from the reserves of the attackers and he throws all of his magical might into deflecting the incoming disintegration ray; instead of being struck head-on, he is grazed by the lethal ray and topples, unconscious but still alive.
As Aislyn Willowblade scans the battle for targets of opportunity, she witnesses a lightning ball ravage the ranks of the defenders and quickly traces the origin of the deadly spell. Her eyes alight on a humanoid evoker as he readies a second horrific spell but she is quicker; at a gesture, she sends a fireball at the evil mage and it detonates around him, searing his flesh and ripping away his life.
Another horn blares, sounding the retreat, as the temperature abruptly drops even lower. Sleet falls from the darkening sky and the wind cuts like a razor-sharp knife, slashing through winter clothes as if not even present. The ground, already slick with the blood of the dead and dying, becomes an icy obstacle that even the trollocs dare not attempt to traverse. As the sinister creatures retreat to their camp, Kheldane is forced to grudgingly order his own forces to fall back to the keep, abandoning the dead to the elements. As soon as the weather eases, the battle will be resumed and there will be no mercy this time.
The wall is lost.

The Purest of Souls: the 3^rd of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

Having been forced to retreat to the Keep, the surviving defenders of Caras Ereg prepare themselves for the end. With no alternate escape routes and far too many wounded to simply abandon, their morale plummets; only the steadfast determination of the Company to not only survive but to triumph keeps many from losing all hope.
As the wind screams outside, Kheldane Dragonslayer issues commands to ready his minimal forces for battle. Additional barricades are set up around the main entrance as those too wounded to fight are moved to the lower level of the Keep. He dispatches Gilthoron Orc-Slayer to Lady Athsil to inquire about potential reinforcements that could be summoned by Nival Thriceborn’s teleportation magicks. Aislyn Willowblade moves among the Company, healing the wounds taken in the earlier battle; realizing that her companions will do more good at full health, she does not apply her healing touch to the large number of wounded, leaving that to the half-drow healer Miyatar. It is with a little bit of sadness that the Company realize that there is no sign of Oswulf, nor the small company of soldiers he briefly commanded.
After a brief consideration, Lady Athsil informs Gilthoron that her now-dead husband hailed from Nar-Lothron, the elvish “capital” of Highfolk commonly called Flameflower, and that the “king” there may be able to aid them. Following a brief discussion, it is determined that Nival Once-Elven will teleport Lady Athsil (and several infants including her own newborn) to the elvish stronghold to recruit emergency aid. It is hoped that Lady Athsil’s high birth and the presence of the Tree will spur the elvish forces into rapid action. An hour passes as Nival studies the destination via magical means, hoping to familiarize himself with it enough for his arcane conveyance to function as intended. As he draws the necessary power to teleport them, trolloc war horns sound the advance. Time has run out.
The teleportation spell works as intended, though their destination is shunted some six miles out of the stronghold due to some powerful warding magics. Lady Athsil hikes up her skirts and, still carrying four infants, begins to run. Nival, about to join her, suddenly has a moment of insight and draws deeply of the Art once more, teleporting himself to Greyhawk City – running as quickly as he can, he heads toward the Wizard’s Guild.
A storm of arrows fill the sky as the trollocs, having learned to fear the arcane might of Aislyn and Nival, advance under the covering fire of their brethren. From his vantage point atop the Keep, Gilthoron Orc-Slayer is disheartened to realize that the creatures number in the hundreds, many more than Oswulf had indicated following his scouting run the night previous. Despite this, the Company is not unprepared: at Kheldane’s command, Orolonwë draws of his druidic knowledge, bringing down a massive cloudburst that drenches the Keep in a freezing downpour, even as Aislyn erects a briar web around the main entrance. If nothing else, the rain will slow the attack down even more as it freezes in the icy weather.
Long heartbeats pass as the trollocs get into position. From somewhere among the attackers, a powerful caster dispels magic around Orolonwë’s spell, ending it abruptly. As the rain slows and then stops, the trollocs charge forward, screaming war cries; a crude battering ram held aloft, they slow when the reach Aislyn’s briar web, then grind to a halt as she drapes a web over them as well.
For an instant, it appears that this assault will break upon the walls as so many others have, but that instant fades as a ten-foot section of the northern Keep wall suddenly becomes a strange shadow of itself, dissolving into sparkling motes that drift away in the wind. Into this breach, snarling trollocs surge to be met head-on by Calista Colbeysdottir and her gleaming axe. Shouting orders for Squire Caradoc to hold his post at the main entrance, Kheldane moves to join the northron warrior-maid and, to everyone’s surprise, his skin…flows. Hardened bluish scales spring up around his exposed flesh and he dances into the barely held breach, his sword whistling a grim song.
As Gilthoron Orc-Slayer reaches the ground floor, he witnesses one of the monstrous creatures overrun Calista, knocking her prone and continuing forward to be met by Cyrus Wingfoot’s stunning attack; without hesitation, the elvish archer sends a shaft at the creature and is slightly surprised that it seems to ignore the precisely aimed arrow. Behind him, Orolonwë follows and, following Aislyn’s earlier example, erects a briar web outside this breach. Though slowed, the creatures are not completely stopped and seemingly ignore all but the most vicious wounds.
Wounds such as that wrought by Kheldane Dragonslayer. The swordsman shouts a war-cry and, in mid-swing, appears to thicken with muscle; his blow slices deep into his foe’s midsection, spraying the ground and wall with dark blood. Roaring with rage and pain, the creature strikes out in a frenzy, raining blows down upon Kheldane with wild abandon; like titans of old, the two exchange mighty blows that would break lesser men. From her vantage point on the second floor, Aislyn hurls a second web down atop the briar web erected by Orolonwë and then turns to the stairs.
With a flash of light, Nival Thriceborn materializes inside the keep, a scroll held tightly in one hand. He takes in the situation at a glance and actives the magic upon the parchment, invoking a teleportation circle that leads to Nar-Lothron. Quickly realizing what the Magister has wrought, Orolonwë races downstairs and begins herding the wounded survivors through the circle even as the Once-Elven turns to lend his arcane might in the ongoing battle.
The breach is held, though the Company are hard-pressed by the elite trollocs. Two fall, only to be replaced by others, equally dangerous, and three of the eyeless creatures step from the shadows to lend their own sinister talents to the attack. Shrinking back in supernatural fear, three of the elven defenders fall before them but, almost contemptously, Kheldane decapitates one of the eyeless creatures before turning his attention back to the breach. Moving with grace and speed, Cyrus Wingfoot strikes and retreats, allowing the supernatural fear wash over him like a cool winter breeze; his hands and feet are blurs as they strike the creatures with sledgehammer force but it is Nival’s chain lightning that sways the tide.
With a loud crash, the gate at the main entrance is splintered and the trollocs there surge forward to be met by Squire Caradoc and several elvish defenders. Drawing deeply of his Art, Nival hastes his Company, increasing their speed and defensive abilities before stepping forward to deliver a well-placed lightning bolt against the attacking trollocs, dropping several. Aislyn, now on the ground floor, lends her own arcane might to the raging battle with a fireball sent through the breach that Calista and Kheldane barely hold; with an explosion, the magickal fire detonates, searing the flesh of several of the attackers but not even singeing the defenders.
Orolonwë’s keen elven eyes catch sight of something amiss on the upper levels of the Keep and he bellows a warning: a caster is within the keep. Cyrus Wingfoot reacts faster than anyone else; moving with nearly impossible speed, he races to the stairs and climbs them in mere heartbeats, easily eluding the wounded making their way to the teleportation circle and safety. On the third floor, he reaches the Lord’s Chamber and catches a glimpse of two elven soldiers speaking to a sinister figure in black who steps through the archway supposedly leading to the Tree and vanishes. Anger wells up within the young monk at the treason of these elves and he blurs forward, striking one with his shining fist. In eerie unison, they declare “We must defend the Tree” before making vain attempts to strike him; realizing that they are unduly influenced by spellcraft, he ignores them, tumbling into the archway where light swallows him…
Downstairs, the battle continues apace, with Calista Colbeysdottir and Kheldane Dragonslayer able to hold the breach against all attackers; Aislyn Willowblade’s timely healing arts restore some of their vigor, enabling them to stand ready for another assault. At the main entrance, Squire Caradoc and Nival Once-Elven hold the line as well, with the Magister unleashing a second lightning bolt that incinerates their foes. Gilthoron Orc-Slayer stands ready, taking precisely aimed shots at exposed targets. Outside, the trollocs appear to be preparing for a second, larger assault when war horns sound the retreat.
Impossibly, the creatures begin to fall back. The Company has…won?

The Purest of Souls: the 3^rd and 4^th of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

Light evelops Cyrus as he passes through the archway and there is a sense of motion, of movement that is impossibly fast. He feels himself spinning out of control through an emptiness so vast that he can barely comprehend it. And then, he tumbles out of the light into a clearing. Catlike, he twists in mid-air, landing on his feet in a large clearing surrounded by towering trees that climb into a clear blue sky. The land stretches out around him for leagues without even a hint of which tree is The Tree. Even worse, there is no sign of the doorway through which he passed! Picking a direction at random, the young monk trots off in that direction, pausing to conduct visual sweeps of his surroundings.
As the trollocs retreat, Nival Once-Elven sprints upstairs, hoping to aid Cyrus against the caster Orolonwë sighted earlier but instead discovers only the two elvish guards standing before the archway leading to the Tree. He barely pauses as he reaches out with his magery to muddle their senses and cause them to sleep; as he approaches the archway, he sees a familiar-looking crooked doorway within the room and makes a mental note of its presence. He has seen something similar in Sillín…
Passing through the archway he recognizes as a portal of some kind, he experiences and identical sens of great distance travelled but emerges in an empty clearing. Realization that he has crossed over into a demiplane, Nival curses under his breath – without knowledge of the appropriate planar key, his journey could be a very long one indeed. Distant movement catches his eye and he pursues, hoping that this is Cyrus.
Observing the trolloc retreat from the shattered keep of Caras Ereg, the rest of the Company debate their next course of action. Ever the tactician, Kheldane Dragonslayer fears that the retreat is part of a new gambit, one that he does not comprehend. As they debate whether to use the teleportation circle laid down by Nival moments earlier, Aislyn Willowblade notices another such circle appear within the Keep’s great hall and quickly warns her companions. Heavily armed elven warriors, wearing the Flameflower livery of Nar-Lothron, emerge from the circle, identifying themselves as the desperately needed reinforcements from the Highfolk capital. The third elf through the circle is a powerful archmage who introduces himself as Gólad, son of Isámir; as Aislyn is informing him of a potential enemy mage within the Keep, the archmage looks away, sensing something through his arcane mastery, and snaps a finger, instantly teleporting elsewhere.
With the great hall secured and more reinforcements pouring through the circle, the heroes turn their attention to the missing members of their Company. Upstairs they go, only to discover Gólad, son of Isámir, standing before an open archway. This archway, Gólad explains, is a portal to the demiplane within which the Tree is kept and, without knowledge of the proper portal key – knowledge only known to the Lord of the Keep and passed down through his heirs – return could very well be impossible.
As Cyrus continues his trot toward where he suspects the Tree is, distant movement catches his eye and he hesitates; on impulse, he downs a potion of flight and climbs into the sky to get a better view. To his surprise, the movement is a jogging Nival Thriceborn and the monkly sorceror sends his hawk familiar to guide the Magister to him while he presses on. Several hours pass as he nears the Tree and he is only mildly annoyed to discover Nival waiting for him, having utilized his arcane might to teleport the distance instead of walking it.
The Tree towers over them, easily a hundred feet in height and glittering with raw magic. To Nival’s eyes, light and energy seem to dance it, swirling motes that glitter and sparkle with untapped power that is seductive and beautiful. To Cyrus’ horror, the bands that wrap around his arms react poorly to the presence of the Tree, twisting and moving under his skin in a way that threatens to make him violently ill. As the two begin to conduct their examination of the area surrounding the Tree, a wave of magic washes over the Once-Elven Magister and he topples forward. Racing to his side, Cyrus is startled to discover that he is still awake and aware but completely unable to move or act, as if in a coma. Something pushes Cyrus forward and he spins to discover a sinister figure appearing from the trees; the monk’s hands splay out as he encounters an invisible forcecage surrounding the two. Without a word, the sinister figure begins to conduct his own examination of the Tree, completely ignoring the two imprisoned heroes.
Quickly running out of ideas regarding the way in which to revive Nival, Cyrus turns his attention to the forcecage and realizes that it is a complete cube. Faced with no other options, he focuses himself to lash out at the invisible forcecage, hoping that the darkening bands that encircle his arms will augment his strike. Ignoring the sense that something is…ripping within him, Cyrus lashes out with hands that glow with a black light. With a titanic boom, the forcecage collapses under his fists, something that Nival knows is purely impossible. Surprise grants the monk a momentary but short-lived advantage; he lashes out with lightning strikes that are easily parried by an invisible shield. With a smile revealing vampiric teeth, his foe retaliates by grappling the monk and sinking his teeth into him. All seems lost…
Spitting out the blood with an expression of disgust, the vampiric wizard flings Cyrus away and decides to simply disintegrate the young monk; narrowly evading the thin green ray, Cyrus realizes that he is a deep trouble.
Nival Once-Elven re-enters the engagement as he struggles through the mind-influencing spell to cast a spell that causes the vampiric wizard to suddenly have a feeblemind. Suddenly turned into a creature entirely of instinct, the vampire springs forward, bringing its supernatural ability to drain lifeforce into play. With Cyrus the nearest foe, it focuses on him, ignoring Nival as the Magister dispels magic to strip away the vampire’s arcane protections. Realizing that the creature is about to slay Cyrus, Nival draws deeper of his Art than he ever has before, sending a highly augmented acid orb at the vampire. With a scream of agony, the creature begins to melt before exploding into a gaseous form; no longer protected from the sun’s rays, however, the gaseous form drifts apart, molecule by molecule.
After an hour or so of careful study and experimentation, Nival deduces the proper planar key and plucks a golden apple from the Tree; as he consumes the apple, he senses a change within him and is able to locate the exit portal. With Cyrus holding onto his shoulder, he takes them through the portal and back to Caras Ereg.
Emerging from the portal at the end of Gólad’s lecture to the Company on the dangers of the demiplane, the two are able to report that the Tree is safe and Nival identifies the vampiric mage as Maskaleyne, a member of the Lesser Boneheart. Aislyn quickly attends to Cyrus’ wounds, calling upon Pelor’s might to restore to him the drained energy taken by the vampire. To Gólad, Nival suggests that the crooked doorway be secured for fear that someone unprepared might pass through it; the archmage eyes the Once-Elven magister with surprise clearly evident – that a human not even 50 is even aware of what the magical device is troubling…
Aislyn and Miyatar, the half-drow healer who Kheldane met earlier, pass through the teleportation circle that leads to Nar-Lothron, with plans to attend to the wounded. Gilthoron and Nival follow suit, both hoping to speak to Lady Athsil for different reasons, only to discover that she has accompanied Prince Ardherin back to Caras Ereg.
Kheldane debriefs Prince Ardherin regarding the defense, quickly determining that the elvish prince is no warleader when he fails to react to the use of “distractionary casualties.” Declaring the Company heroes, the Prince informs him that the Company will join him for a banquet in their honor this evening before wandering off to attend to other duties. An elvish captain by the name ofElandui interacts with the human swordsman and agrees to implement his instructions. Cheered that not all elves are frilly tree huggers, Kheldane allows himself to relax, only to fall into a mild depression as he reflects on his growing abilities – he still doesn’t know who or what he is becoming…
The summons comes around dusk and the Company are led to a doorway before which Gólad stands; the archmage moves aside, revealing the telltale indications of a Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion spell. Upon entering, the heroes are shown quarters where they are given the opportunity to clean up and ready themselves for the banquet.
Prince Ardherin intercepts them with grace when they enter the banquet hall and introduces his betrothed, Princess Aradil of Sillín. His complete lack of memory regarding a previous meeting with the Company during the banquet thrown by Gilthoron’s wife Undomiel to celebrate his sister’s Glóredhel’s Raising is quite apparent, though Aislyn tries her best to distract the lecherous prince’s attentions, going as far as to pointedly refer to his betrothed. Gilthoron speaks with Princess Aradil, informing her of the events that brought him to this point and discovering that she is quite upset that official elvish sanction has not already been given to his mission of vengeance. Kheldane finds himself surrounded by elvish lordlings, all eager to listen to his thoughts on tactics and leadership; he senses eyes upon him, however, and meets the level gaze of Lady Athsil. Though Gilthoron had stated earlier she had a reputation for coldness, the invitation in her eyes is anything but; Kheldane suppresses a smile – the night won’t be a complete waste after all.
Nival speaks at length with Gólad, discussing matters of arcane power, before intercepting Lady Athsil to ask her of the crooked doorway he saw in the Lord’s Chamber. Like the archmage before, she is surprised that he knows of it and explains some of what she knows. The “oracles” on the other side can truthfully answer any question, but their price fluctuates depending upon the question. An inquiry that touches on Great Events often has a dreadful price; Lady Athsil relates a cautionary tale of how a powerful mage once crossed through this threshold, seeking knowledge about how to become the most powerful force of magery – as a price, the Oracles claimed his compassion and he went on to become Vecna, the Whispered One. If they wish it, though, she will allow those interested to pass through the crooked doorway. Of the Company, Cyrus, Kheldane and Nival all get speculative expressions on their faces…
Sir Talamar, no longer the confident and powerful paladin following his encounter with the creature the elves identify as a Dragkhar, speaks quietly to Gilthoron as the banquet slowly winds down, pointing out the open lust on Ardherin’s face as he watches Aislyn. The elvish archer agrees that it would be best if the Company moved on quickly…
Late that night, long after the banquet has ended and the attendees retired, Nival Thriceborn sits upright in his bed; a thought has occurred to him and he is convinced that he can now scry Thoronwen’s location. The following morning, he succeeds and locates her far to the north in the lands of Blackmoor, accompanied by four cloaked and hooded creatures. A decision is quickly made for Nival to teleport the core members of the Company to that location to liberate her from their grasp and long heartbeats pass as they prepare for the journey, augmenting themselves with both arcane and divine magics. Tapping into the abilities he is discovering, Kheldane hardens his skin with white scales, similar to those of an icy dragon. Thinking themselves ready, they give Nival the signal and he teleports them to Thoronwen’s location.
Despite their hopes for a peaceful solution, the four kidnappers react with violence. The largest of the four inhales sharply before exhaling a blast of frigid cold, revealing himself to be a half-dragon; screaming a terrible warcry, an equally large (though not as tall) Dragon Elf charges Gilthoron and attacks with frenzied abandon. Tapping into her innate magical talent, Aislyn flings a fireball at the third and fourth kidnappers ; the third of the kidnappers reaches out to grab the fourth and teleports away. Heartbeats later, a flame strike falls upon Aislyn and Nival, badly injuring them. Unexpected strength surging through his frame, Kheldane intercepts the half-dragon warrior and the two exchange powerful blows even as Cyrus and Nival join Gilthoron in dropping the elf’s attacker. Nival realizes that the sorceror teleported straight up much like he has in the past and draws upon his Art to dispel magic, stripping away her arcane protections even as the sorceror’s companion reveals batlike wings; realizing the danger the Magister poses, the sorceror drops a fireball upon him and he falls. Aislyn retaliates with a fireball of her own, killing her foe with magic.
Bounding forward, Cyrus tumbles past the half-dragon who, he has discovered, is Kheldane’s equal with a sword, having sundered the human weapon master’s blade with a mighty blow of his own. Roaring with anger, Kheldane grapples with his foe and the two pit their immense strength against one another. Cyrus, seeing an opening, attacks with a flurry of blows, his sledgehammer fists breaking the ribs of the pinned half-dragon even as Gilthoron drops his foe with well-placed shots and shifts fire to Kheldane’s opponent. Even as the half-dragon topples, the elven archer is already releasing a shaft at the last of the kidnappers; revealed to be a half-fiend, the winged female shudders in surprise as Gilthoron’s arrow punches through her heart.
Gasping with surprise at the brutal fight, the Company take stock of their situation and the rescued Thoronwen. The slain are stuffed into bags of holding as Aislyn calls upon Pelor’s healing gifts to revive the unconscious Nival; back to Caras Ereg they will go, hoping answers can be found in alternate locations…

The Purest of Souls: the 4^th to the 17^th of Fireseek, Winter, 593:

Arriving back at Caras Ereg, the Company quickly turns their attention to acquiring additional information. Once the wounds to her companions are attended to, Aislyn retires, hoping to recover spells so as to speak with the dead and thus interrogate the four dead while also avoiding Prince Ardherin at the same time. Cyrus, Kheldane and Nival all opt to pass through the crooked doorway and ask questions of the Oracles on the other side.
Within the hour, both Cyrus and Kheldane have reappeared, though neither appears happy regarding the answers they received. As hours pass and Nival has yet to reappear, the Company express their concern in various ways, most involving making fun of the still absent Magister and the image of him arguing with Oracles over word choices.
On the morning of the 5^th, Aislyn Willowblade utilizes the divine gifts bestowed upon her by Pelor the Shining One to draw forth answers from two of the slain kidnappers; the Company is mildly surprised to learn that the flight to the north with Thoronwen was but intended to be a distraction away from the kidnapper’s Master. Unfortunately, Aislyn is unable to extract information that reveals the actual location or identity of their Master from their corpses and the Company decides to bide their time and wait for Nival to reappear. Though none of them reveal it to one another, they have clearly come to rely on his superior mental gifts.
By the 7^th, the Company has grown quite concerned but remain unable to do anything but wait for the absent Magister. Having exhausted all of her excuses to avoid the lecherous Prince Ardherin, Aislyn begs a boon of the archmage Gólad, son of Isámir, to teleport her to Caras Ereg in hopes of acquiring additional supplies. Gilthoron, with Princess Aradil’s permission, accompanies the two back with his daughter, reuniting the rescued elf maiden with her distraught mother. Calista, Cyrus, and Kheldane devote their energies in disparate directions, with the northron warrior and the Keoish swordsman spending much time working alongside the defenders of Caras Ereg while the Furyondian monk devotes much time to inner reflection, hoping to unlock the secrets of the discolored bands encircling his arms. Few notice the time Kheldane spends with Lady Athsil or, if they do, say nothing of it.
Nine days after he entered the crooked doorway, Nival Thriceborn emerges, having physically aged some twenty years and lost his left eye, prices for his hard-won knowledge. Clutching a gray staff in his hand, he declares that the mage he knows as Shiner has assumed command of the Valley of the Mage and he intends to travel there to liberate Laurelendil. The following day, as the winter appears to be finally easing, Gólad, son of Isámir, is one again tasked to create a teleportation circle so that the entire Company, now numbering over seventy, may pass through to Bissel. As he asks for no payment, there is little doubt that he acts on Princess Aradil’s command.
As the Company approaches Pellak, the so-called City of Swords and capital of the March of Bissel, the sound of approaching cavalry can distinctly be heard and Kheldane bellows commands, quickly arranging his warband into a defensive position that is clearly not one of hostile intent even as Gilthoron directs his archers to a flanking position on high ground. Topping a hill, a force of heavy cavalry bearing the arms of Bissel slows to a stop and array themselves into a wedge formation, awaiting instructions to charge. Too late, the Company realizes the image they must present: an unknown warband appearing out of nowhere close to the capital of a only-recently liberated nation. As a single horseman rides forward to meet them, bearing the symbol of parley on his couched lance, Aislyn, Calista and Cyrus march forward through the snow to meet him.
Without waiting for introductions or salutations, the herald informs them that, by law, no warband may march through Bissel without direct permission from the Margrave himself and that the Company must remain encamped where they are while their commander rides into the city to meet with the Margrave. After a brief discussion with her companions, Aislyn informs the herald that she will accompany Cyrus, Kheldane and Nival into the city. Nothing is said regarding Gilthoron, who remains behind to command the Company should circumstances turn sour. Calista, still uncomfortable with civilization’s trappings, opts to remain behind as well. Per the law, the four leave behind their weapons, though Nival hesitates when the herald looks at his staff: “You would not part an old man with his walking staff, would you?” the Magister asks in his most guileless voice and the herald shrugs, failing to notice the sly look Nival gives to his compatriots as he begins to limp forward, clinging to Cyrus’ arm as if he were a decrepit old man.
His Lofty Grace, the Margrave Larringan of Pellak, is a rail-thin, balding man in his late-40s with eagle-sharp eyes and a nose that is too large by half. Prominently displayed upon his tabard is the symbol of Heironeous the Invincible, marking him as one of the faithful. Upon their entrance into his court, he imperiously demands their identities and the reason for their presence in the March, a reason that Aislyn is only too polite in providing. Once he is assured that their presence is not hostile, he visibly relaxes and speaks: “Then I apologize for our rough treatment of you. We have had so many mercenaries travelling through Bissel in recent weeks I assumed you were more of them.”
At Aislyn’s urging, he expounds upon the numerous mercenaries and their most probable destination: “South. The Gran March mostly, or Gyruff, though some are no doubt marching for Sterich – that region will collapse in civil war if matters are not attended to.” Not being from the Sheldomar Valley, Aislyn inquires as to why mercenaries would be need for these places and her soothing manner coaxes additional information from the Margrave. For Sterich: “There is a great deal of land-grabbing in that region, what with the giant invasion having slain most of the nobility. Many lesser nobles from Keoland move into Sterich to press their suits for unclaimed or unruled lands and naturally bring in mercenaries to defend their claims.” For Gyruff: “The brenin – that would be Grand Duke to you – evicted the Knights of the Watch from his lands after one of their number dueled with a Furyondian lord and lost; Duke Owein apparently favors the Furyondian – he married the man off to one of the wealthiest women in the region. Many of the mercenaries no doubt hope to have similar successes.” For the Gran March: “Ummm, I cannot say.” It is obvious to the heroes that he knows more but will not reveal what he knows.
When the Company reveals their interest in the Valley of the Mage, Margrave Larringan is taken aback. “Whatever for? That place is all together evil; none who enter it returns alive.” Once the heroes reveal that the suspect the so-called “Exalted One has abducted the mother of Nival’s child, Margrave Larringan considers something for a long moment, studying the four with a weighing look in his eyes before finally reaching a decision. “I suspect that we may be able to aid one another. In recent months, there has been a number of raids on our border settlements, all of which we believe originated from the Valley. We have not yet been able to devote forces to investigate these raids, not with Kettish dogs always lurking to the north and waiting for a sign of weakness. Since you are heading in that direction, I can sign paperwork giving you special dispensation to travel through Bissel with your warband if you agree to halt these raids.” He produces a familiar-looking helmet with stylized dragon motifs upon it and the Company quickly agree, sensing forward progress at last.
The map he provides them is not particularly useful and he apologizes for its lack of detail; the ranger to whom he would normally turn them over to, Wilgar, has not returned from the latest scouting mission into the mysterious Valley though he did leave behind enough information to toward a secret pass through the Barrier Peaks into the Valley itself. After relaying all that he knows regarding the defenses of the mysterious Vale – and it is depressingly little – he quickly pens a note granting the Company special dispensation to travel through Bissel, providing they do not break any laws.
Margrave Larringan is not yet done being surprised by the Company, however, as Nival quietly asks about a loremaster named Fenrith, son of Godric; prior to their departure from Caras Ereg, the Magister was given the name by Gólad, son of Isámir, who suggested that the old man’s knowledge would be invaluable. Larringan’s reaction is amusing: “In Heironeous’ name, why would you seek out that crazy old wizard? He’s mad!” With some applied pressure, the Company finally learn of his address and depart the Margrave’s presence; Aislyn and Nival, being the only real arcane casters among the four, head for Fenrith’s abode while Cyrus and Kheldane return to the Company to prepare them for departure.
At Fenrith’s home, the two casters quickly realize that the loremaster is either completely insane or amazingly deceptive. The old man claims to recognize Nival at once: “I know you…Drammel, son of Marance!” then promptly ignores the fact that the Once-Elven magister insists that Drammel is his father. An hour passes as they try to gain information regarding the Valley from them and it takes nearly that long for them to realize that instead of learning information, they are instead relating it. Of Shiner, Nival learns that two men have borne that name and that the original Shiner, who constructed the keep Eyebite, was slain just prior to the beginning of the Greyhawk Wars, probably by the later Shiner who inhabited the keep until the Dragon Swarm destroyed it. The old man indicates knowledge of the changes taking place in Kheldane when he reveals that the two “stink of dragon”; when Nival describes some of what the Keoish swordsman seems capable of, he is startled by the old man muttering under his breath in Draconic “I thought they were all dead…” Unsurprisingly, Fenrith pleads ignorance about saying any such thing. He also indicates knowledge regarding Cyrus when he asks Aislyn point-blank if she travels with a monk; when she nods, he warns ominously: “I’d keep an eye on him, were I you. Danger travels with him…”
Finally, the two turn the topic back to the Vale and Fenrith warms up to them a bit: “Many years ago, long before either of you were born, a man came to me for knowledge about the Vale. I mistrusted him for he had an ill-favored look but times were difficult and his money was good so I provided him with the lore he sought. He called himself Nyeru Darkspring though I doubt that was his truename. Five companions he gathered around him: a drow mage named Aalkrost; a Keoish necromancer named Elock; a woman who called herself Windstrider – I never learned her talents or truename; a cleric, of Nerull I think, called Raynal; and a swordsman called Murgan. These companions marched into the Vale, intent on facing the Exalted One, whom I knew as Jaran Krimeeah – an exiled Aerdi wizard of awesome might. I know not their fates nor the fates of the company sent into the Vale by the previous Margrave to slay these mages.”
When Nival asks Fenrith about possibly purchasing spells, the old man launches into a tirade. “Feh. I know your kind – hurling fire and lightning about like there is no tomorrow. The Art isn’t just about power, boy, it’s also about guidance: everything from those impressive future visions to the more subtle listening of the wind. Trouble is, the more you tap into it for raw power, the less you’re able to hear its guidance over the noise of your own activity. You’re too busy screaming at the top of your lungs to hear a whisper.”
Eventually learning that the old man has access to a much more detailed map, the two spend another twenty minutes haggling with him to gain access to the map. The final price is 500 gold and an hour of Aislyn’s time…alone. Nival is shown the door by Fenrith’s massive owl familiar and knows not what happens in that hour.
Three days later, as the snow begins to melt and temperatures start climbing back to tolerable levels, Fenrith locates the map.

The Purest of Souls: the 18^th of Fireseek to the 1^st of Readying, Winter to Early Spring, 593:

The three day trek to the mouth of the so-called ‘Wilgar Pass’ through the Barrier Peaks into the Valley is completely uneventful and, by the time they have arrived at the designated area, a plan of action has finally been agreed upon. An advance team, consisting of the core members of the Company, will traverse the Pass and establish a beach head within the Valley. Once this area has been secured, the rest of the Company will advance through the forty-mile pass and set up a defensive camp while the advance team continues their reconnaisance. Once Gilthoron Orcrist and Kheldane Dragonslayer have set up the initial forward base to their liking, the advance team moves into the pass.
Two uneventful days pass as the Company proceeds through the rocky terrain. On the third day, shortly after the sun has reached its zenith, Aislyn, Gilthoron, and Kheldane catch sight of an unwanted sight: a dragon with scales as white as snow, dips around the rocky terrain, clearly setting up for an attack run. Reacting quickly, the Company heads for cover as Kheldane summons his growing abilities to grant protection from chaos and Aislyn hastes the Company. Nival Thriceborn draws upon his arcane might and readies a fireball for release while Gilthoron conceals himself under an overhang, his bow at the ready.
Surprise already lost, the chromatic dragon dives forward to belch a blast of frigid air but not before Nival hurls his fireball at it with awesome results; its breath attack is absurdly ineffective and the Company unleashes hell in retaliation. Drawing upon the abilities he does not entirely comprehend, Kheldane wraps an earthbind around the monstrous creature’s wings, halving its flight speed even as Aislyn hurls her own fireball with results equally as lethal as Nival’s earlier casting. Not to be outdone, the Once-Elven magister taps his talent to sends a scorching ray at the fire-vulnerable creature with maximum carnage. It collapses to the earth, a smoldering husk.
The Company sets to stripping the carcass of valuable trophies, each with a different desire in mind. Kheldane wishes to have a cloak made from it’s husk and asks Gilthoron to field dress the creature; the elvish archer, his mind eye already focused on a dragonbone bow, does so without problem and even aids Nival in draining the creature’s potent blood which is stored in a earthenware container fashioned by Aislyn from the earth using stoneshape. The half-elf mystic theurge claims several scales and teeth, planning not to create weapons or armor but instead for fashionable jewelry. Calista Colbeysdottir is more interested in weapons and claims several claws for later use.
After the Company has finished stripping the carcass of anything useful, Nival disintegrates the remains out of concern of making passage through the Pass difficult for the other members of the Company when they pass through. Another half day is spent in search for the creatures’s clearly substandard lair, though the heroes do leave it wealthier. As they settle down to camp for the night, Nival suddenly feels a tickle in the geas bond he has with Tarrant and informs the Company that he must return to Caras Enstahd at once; with a flash of light, he teleports away.
Emerging from the mouth of the Pass a day behind schedule, the Company behold the Valley of the Mage. From their vantage point high above the valley proper, they can see the mighty Javan River as it cuts a swath through the beautiful yet rugged lands. Far to the north, on a distant lake, Gilthoron is able to see something glint in the afternoon sun, something that is clearly not a natural feature. Deciding that this is as good a place as any to start their search, the Company sets off at a brisk pace, leaving Cyrus behind to guard the Pass and contemplate upon the growing darkness within him.
Three days pass as the advance team nears the artificial structure. As they grow closer to the structure, they are able to identify it as a structure of some kind, though why it appears to be upon a lake, none can tell. Desirous of a better look (and perhaps some indication of who commands it, if anyone), the Company presses on.
Shortly before midday on the third afternoon since they left the Pass, Gilthoron Orcrist suddenly holds up his arm in warning, having heard low talking before them. Flanked by his loyal cohort, Orolonwë, the archer sneaks forward to discover a patrol of hippogriff riders taking their ease. As the two decide their actions, Calista Colbeysdottir – thereafter called The Quiet – steps upon an impossibly loud twig, snapping it in two and alerting the patrol. The commander of the patrol reacts quickly, ordering his men to “go for help!” before leaping astride his own mount. In a flash, Aislyn erects a web that catches two of the hippogriffs and prevents their escape.
As the third hippogriff bearing the commander gathers speed to leap into the air, Kheldane summons his mysterious abilities and again earthbinds the flying creature, preventing it from escaping either. Gilthoron releases a rapid-fire volley from his bow, dropping one of the riders in a heap and badly injuring another before Calista the Quiet can react. Out of the corner of her eye, the northron battle-maid senses movement and curses at the presence of two more riders, both preparing to leap into the sky. She charges one of them and lays about with Frost-Reaver, her mighty greataxe, and catches him squarely upon the chest. Though his breatplate holds, the force of her blow flings the rider from his saddle and allows her to leap astride the magical beast as his compatriot disappears into the sky.
The grounded patrol quickly falls to Aislyn’s magic missiles and Gilthoron’s lethal arrows, allowing the elvish archer to seize one of the hippogriffs as his own as Orolonwë cuts it free from the web entangling. He leaps into the sky and wheels his flying mount around just in time to see Calista the Quiet engage the sole remaining patrol member in combat; expertly steering her mount with her knees, as if she had been born in the saddle, she directs it into a sharp dance around her foe. Once, twice, thrice her axe sings and her foe sags back, his lifeblood seeping from the vicious wounds inflicted. Quickly realizing that the magical beasts are war-trained, Gilthoron directs the hippogriff bearing the slain patrol member to the ground.
Taking stock of the situation, the Company exchange grim smiles. Now they have a much faster mode of transportation. And, if the castle proves to be an easy target, quite possibly a base of operations…

The Purest of Souls: the 1^st to the 2^nd of Readying, Early Spring, 593:

Nival Thriceborn, having returned to Caras Enstahd and learned that his apprentice was involved in a scuffle, returns to the Valley via his teleportation magics and joins Cyrus Wingfoot at the mouth of the pass. As the two keep a lookout for potential dangers, the young monk sees five winged creatures approaching from the north and warns his companion; Nival, recalling Shiner’s use of hippogriff riders at the key of Eyebite, acts quickly and drapes a cloak of invisibility over the two. Once the creatures get closer, however, the two are able to determine that it is the advance team and the Once-Elven Magister dispels his spell.
The evening passes uneventfully with the Company discussing their options and potential targets. Gilthoron Orcrist reveals that, during their return trip, he saw what appeared to be two scouting posts set in tree tops; these outposts are no doubt concealed from view by those on foot but his keen elven eyes saw them from the air. Sensing an excellent opportunity to create and even greater staging ground, Kheldane Dragonslayer fashions a crude assault plan: Calista will take her hippogriff mount back to the bulk of the Company with instructions to march through the pass and set up camp here while the advance team will neutralize the two scouting posts.
The sun has barely climbed into the sky when the Company strikes. Ever the mad genius, Nival Thriceborn comes up with a scouting technique utilizing both his toad familiar, Trevor, and Cyrus Wingfoot’s unnamed falcon familiar: placing the toad in a pouch that allows him to see, the Magister secures the pouch to the falcon and has the young sorceror-monk to instruct the bird of prey to do a flyby of the scouting post; upon its return, Nival is able to communicate with his familiar and ascertain the location of several members of the scouting post. With this valuable intelligence, Kheldane turns his formidable skills of tactics toward creating a workable assault plan: the team will fly overhead and three members – Cyrus, Kheldane, and Nival – will leap from their mounts and fall toward the post; the invisible trio will have their fall arrested by Nival’s magic and they will be invisible while Aislyn, Gilthoron, Miyatar, and Orolonwë will remain mounted and provide air support.
The battle is nearing over before it begins. As he falls, Nival hurls an acid orb at one of the two scouts, slaying the elven scout before he is even aware of being under attack, but the casting of the spell while in mid-air causes the Magister to land on his back. The other scout atop this level acts without hesitation, drawing his sword and blowing a whistle to warn his fellows, unaware that Gilthoron has already slain a second scout with two well-placed arrows; this brief delay is dangerous for him, however, as Nival blankets him with his personal spell – Nival’s Arcane Pyrotechnic Adhesive Lingering Muck. Cyrus and Kheldane land on separate levels of the platform and begin to conduct their sweep; the swordsman cuts down the burning elf with a deadly backhand attack before assuming a defensive posture as three additional elvish scouts leap from cover to attack. With deceptively casual ease, Kheldane cuts the three down as Nival causes a fourth scout (armed with a bow) to undergo a baleful polymorph; a turtle hits the ground, surrounded by his gear and equipment. From another platform, additional scouts rush to investigate the whistle and the sounds of battle but find themselves in dire straits and Aislyn Willowblade creates a short-lived but brutal ice storm that kills one and badly injures two more. The last of the scouts attempt to flee but are cut down by the powerful magics of Aislyn and Nival.
From this scouting post, the Company reorganize and quickly realize that they are not facing terribly difficult foes. The Falcon and Toad Recon Team is dispatched for a scouting run at the second outpost and the Company manuever to repeat their assault; as he provides air support, Gilthoron’s keen elven eyes make out the forms of six hippogriffs departing the Lake Castle in the far distance, though he is unsure of their destination.
The second assault takes even less time that the first, especially as Nival summons a celestial dire ape who promptly rends one of the scouts in twain and then leaps onto the next platform; unfortunately, the scouting post was never intended for a creature of its weight and the floor breaks under his landing, sending two of the scouts falling to their deaths. Aislyn unleashes magic missiles at visible foes, dropping them with impunity, as Cyrus crushes bone with his deadly fists. In heartbeats, the ten scouts manning the outpost are dead.
Gilthoron Orcrist, having kept his eyes on the hippogriff patrol, relates that the six man team appears to be investigating the spot in which the first group of such men fell and the Company quickly decides to strike hard and fast. Flying fast and low, they swoop in as the six-man patrol climbs back into the sky; with the sun peaking over a mountaintop at their back, the Company has a tactical advantage but the rider’s captain displays cool nerve as he orders his men to attack. Orolonwë directs his mount forward and creates a ghost sound in the form of an attacking dragon’s roar to the flanks of the six riders, which causes three of them to temporarily lose control of their mounts. Recognizing the captain’s distinct leadership abilities, Gilthoron releases several shafts at the man, badly injuring him but not slaying him. Clearing suffering a lung hit, the captain nonetheless surges forward, striking the elvish archer with a brutal lance strike; he is followed by one of his riders who also conducts a spirited charge against Gilthoron. The third rider who has maintained control of his mount narrowly misses Orolonwë with his own spirited charge and passes by without incident. Behind Gilthoron’s cohort, Cyrus Wingfoot tenses and readies to spring; as one of the out of control mounts nears him, he leaps through the air and lands atop the back of the man’s hippogriff, easily balancing on its broad back.
From their shared hippogriff, Aislyn and Nival unleash their own brand of aerial attacks, with the half-elf mystic theurge manuevering the mount to a spot where she can unleash a powerful lightning bolt that badly sears two of the riders; not to be outdone, the Thriceborn Magister creates a stream of chain lightning that leaps through three of the riders. Moving his own mount forward, Kheldane summons his ability to earthbind one of the riders and the targeted hippogriff begins to slowly float to the ground, despite its attempts otherwise. Realizing the danger he is in, the captain charges Kheldane, striking a solid blow against the swordsman with his lance before moving out of range; a second rider, on the heels of his captain, swoops in and strikes Kheldane as well as Gilthoron urges his hippogriff out of striking distance so that he may quaff a potion of cure moderate wounds. Orolonwë attempts to cast a spell but the movement of his mount disrupts the attempts, causing him to lose the spell in an angry curse.
Still balanced atop the back of the hippogriff, Cyrus Wingfoot maintains his precarious balance despite the rider’s erratic flight clearly intended to throw his unwanted passenger; with crushing blows, the young monk attacks his foe, feeling bones break under the force of his blows. Another simple manuever brings Aislyn Willowblade into position and she unleashes a second lightning bolt at two riders; the arcane electricity sears their skin, killing them instantly even as Nival Once-Elven points the Staff of Scælios at the captain. A thin green ray burns through the mid-morning sky and envelops the man; he briefly appears to flicker before breaking apart into nothing. Directing his mount into a steep dive, Kheldane lashes out at the rider atop the earthbound hippogriff, his greatsword cutting deeply into the man’s arm.
A second attempt to throw Cyrus fails and the monk strikes with lethal accuracy, his fist hammering into the man’s neck with fatal results. As Aislyn hurls several magic missiles at Kheldane’s foe to finish him off and Nival admires the curve of her neck while she is casting, the last surviving rider spurs his mount forward, hoping to escape a violent death but his unable to evade Gilthoron’s well-placed arrow. He slumps forward, his lifeblood seeping out of the cruel wound, as the elven ranger uses his animal handling abilities to corral the loose hippogriffs and force them to ground.
The aerial battle over and with no casualties on their side, the Company studies their new acquisitions: now with eleven hippogriffs under their control, they can now turn their attention to assaulting the Lake Castle. If surprise is to be maintained, howoever, their assault will have to come today.

The Purest of Souls: the 2^nd of Readying, Early Spring, 593:

A council of war is quickly convened among the Company in order to determine their best options. Nival urges an immediate rapid strike against the lake castle, convinced that, if the Company can seize the initiative, the day will be theirs; his tactic is a derivation of the one used twice today against the Valley Elf outposts. Aislyn suggests a full-scale assault, utilizing Gilthoron and Kheldane’s followers now on their way through the mountain pass, but, when reminded that it will take the bulk of the force at least several days to arrive, agrees that a rapid strike is a better idea. Focusing on the rapid assault, Cyrus suggests that they utilize the tabards of slain hippogriff riders to disguise the Company as the returning patrol; the monk further recommends that Aislyn speak with dead and determine the size of the force they are facing. Their plan now loosely developed, Kheldane asks Nival to teleport to the Company’s camp to retrieve Calista and deliver additional instructions to his sergeants concerning the march while Aislyn prepares herself to interact with the slain hippogriff rider.
From the dead man, the Company learns that there are no more than 40 within the lake castle at any time and they are commanded by a man known as Mürgan the Red; the rider does not know where the nearest group of reinforcements is. Thus forewarned, the Company decides to implement the shock and awe assault at dusk to further enhance their element of surprise.
As Nival teleports to the Company’s camp, he realizes that he has misjudged his destination coordinates and is some ten miles off. Unwilling to expend another teleport, he instead walks the rest of the way, arriving at the camp some two hours later. Calista is readying herself for the return flight into the Valley, having related the orders to march, and insists that Nival teleport her hippogriff as well.
Dusk creeps upon the Valley as the Company glide into the lake castle’s grounds; in the heartbeat before their captured hippogriffs touch down, the Company realize that they have total surprise on their side. The battle is nearly over before it begins.
Nival Thriceborn strikes first, unleashing an acid orb upon an unsuspecting guard with lethal results. Gilthoron looses a single shaft at one of the tower guardsmen as Kheldane slides from his hippogriff and charges forward to engage an unexpecting captain. The sudden realization that they are under assault spurs the defenders of the castle to sound the alarm even as the Company tears through them like so much butter.
Wielding his greatsword as if it were a part of his body instead of an implement of war, Kheldane Dragonslayer stands before the entrance to the barracks and cuts down his foes with lethal grace; he is a veritable whirlwind of death and none can stand before him.
Standing back-to-back, Aislyn Willowblade and Nival Thriceborn unleash raw arcane might at their foes, burning them with explosive fireballs or dropping them with pinpoint magic missiles.
The northron warrior-maid Calista stands aside Cyrus of the Shining Fists against a squad of the guards, dropping them with bloody gashes and shattered bones; their foes fallen, they move to flank Kheldane, already surrounded by the bodies of the fallen.
As his cohort Orolonwë stands to protect the half-drow healer Miyatar with sword and magic, Gilthoron drops several of the guards with well-placed shots from the back of his hippogriff mount before spurring the winged beast back into the sky. From this vantage point, he planes to provide overwatch and be able to warn the Company of impending attack.
Magical fire falls upon the Company from the keep and the duo of Aislyn and Nival retaliate with more potent magics; unaware of the fate of the hostile spellcaster, Calista and Cyrus surge forward and charge into tower. The young monk, ever quicker, ascends the stairs with huge strides and finds himself alone on the upper levels; two surviving guards shout out an alarm as the monk bounds into view. Springing back, he retreats long enough to focus his ki to heal his wounds and ready himself for the next attack.
The next attack comes in the person of Mürgan the Red, a towering man wielding a massive greataxe with horrific might; a lethal swing cuts deeply into Cyrus’ arm and he retreats with uncanny speed, utilizing the wand he knows to be the first segment of the Rod of Seven Parts to heal his dire wounds. Shouting for aid, he joins Calista and Nival at the base of the stairs to await the inevitable attack of the keep’s dark lord.
And attack he does. Ignoring the horrible death of one guard by Nival’s arcane mastery and a crushing blow inflicted by Cyrus, Mürgan the Red charges down the stairwell and wades into battle. With a single blow, he drops the young monk and, following through with that strike, hews through Calista’s chest as if he were felling a great tree. Alarmed and bellowing for aid, Nival backpedals as Kheldane springs into the gap, dropping Mürgan the Red’s last guard with an almost casual back-handed blow. As Nival draws upon the last of his arcane energy, the two warriors exchange titanic blows that leave horrific wounds. The two warriors glare at one another through blood-stained eyes and circle but Nival lashes out with a final spell; an acid orb splashes atop the blackguard and causes him to stagger back in agony. Thrusting forward, Kheldane slams his sword deep into his foe’s chest, piercing the heart.
The day is won but, with a heavy heart, the Company realize that it has not been won without a price.

The Purest of Souls: the 2^nd to the 5^th of Readying, Early Spring, 593:

Having successfully seized the lake castle from the forces of Mürgan the Red, the Company has turned to transforming it into a base of operations. There is but a single survivor of Mürgan’s forces and the Company is able to quickly determine that the man, whose name is Offgar, is, unsurprisingly, a coward and a bully. Unfortunately, he is also an idiot and is unable to provide much additional information regarding the defenses of the Valley. He is able to confirm that Mürgan the Red used the Room of Doors to teleport to other locations, including the Exalted One's own capital, called Fortress Arcanis.
While exploring the castle, the Company discovers a single prisoner kept within the small prison under the barracks in the form of a female elf warrior who identifies herself as Reece Meadowgrove. She reveals that she is a native of the Valley and is part of a resistance force attempting to liberate the Valley from the clutches of the “Exalted One.” Badly wounded from the vile torture inflicted upon her by Mürgan the Red, it will take some days for her to be fully mobile even with magical healing.
Pooling their experience, the Company quickly comes up with a way to rapidly transport their followers already en route to the Valley to the lake castle. The following morning, after a memorial service for their fallen companion, Kheldane departs the lake castle atop a hippogriff, leading a train of the creatures. At the same time, Nival teleports to the Company's camp to inform Kheldane's sergeant major, Alfweald, of the plan. It will take two trips and as many days but will halve the travel time necessary. And, as Kheldane points out, it will be good practice for the troops to get accustomed to the hippogriffs. Clearly, he is already formulating tactical uses of aerial mounted cavalry.
With the troops secure in the castle and Nival feverishly working to decipher the destinations of the Room of Doors, the Company decide to take up Reece's offer to escort them to the rebel leader, an ancient elf named Galdor Séregon. Early on the fifth of Readying, the Company depart the lake castle and head northwest. It is a 40 mile trip that passes uneventfully. As the sun climbs to its highest point, the Company near the elven village atop their hippogriffs; the smell of smoke, far too thick to be natural, can be made out and the Company acts quickly.
Reece touches down outside the village and abandons her hippogriff, fearing that the sight of the magical beast so often used by the Exalted One’s patrols will cause a panic; she races into the village as her newfound companions circle overhead, seeking out potential hostiles. From the moment she enters her old home, she can tell that violence has been done here. Working feverishly to contain several fires are wounded elves and, from the number of unmoving elves stretched out on the ground, many gave their lives in defense of their home. She finds Galdor Séregon easily enough; the ancient elf, older than any she has ever seen, listens to her quick explanation regarding her escape and agrees to meet with the Company though it is clear that he does not quite believe that they are as impressive as she states. Still, in his opinion, any foes of the Exalted One are potential allies and if they slew Mürgan the Red, Galdor will listen to them.
With Gilthoron and Orolonwë scouting around the village in an attempt to locate any straggling hostiles, the Company stride forward to speak with Galdor. From them, the ancient elf learns that Mürgan the Red has indeed been cast down and the lake keep – called Castle Erid the Company learns – has been seized by these newcomers. As the only one known to escape from the Exalted One’s Fortress Arcanis, Galdor proposes an exchange of information for services from the Company: they will hunt down and destroy the giant raiders who have so recently set upon this village and he will provide them with all of the information he has concerning the Fortress. At Galdor’s behest, Reece continues to travel with the Company, acting as sort of a liaison between the elvish rebels and the foreign adventurers.
Some ten miles to the north, the Company discover a pile of rough stones forming a tall cairn or monument. Mingled with the stones are three massive severed heads with light blue skin and dirty blond hair and beards: frost giants that have met an ill end. Searching the area, Gilthoron Orcrist discovers evidence of a battle some three days old that include the tracks he suspects to belong to a dragon. Forewarned, the Company turns their attention to locating the giant stronghold and it is Cyrus, son of Foote, who first sets eyes upon it.
The curtain walls of an ancient fort rises at the base of a tall cliff along the northern edge of the Barrier Peaks. Two gate towers frame the fort’s entrance, though the gates themselves are long gone. The fort’s general appearance is one of abandonment and neglect. The walls are still intact but are starting to succumb to the combination of old damage and years of weathering. A three-hundred-foot recently cleared area before the walls is the only hint that anyone actually inhabits the place. Continued study, however, reveals the presence of giants as two of them can gradually be made out, clearly on guard duty.
Borrowing Aislyn’s wand of invisibility, Cyrus sneaks forward to scout the layout of the fort. He has barely passed by the gate towers when he freezes; three dire tigers, each taller than a man, lounge in the fort’s courtyard, sunning themselves in the dying rays of day, and two other giants are immediately present. Concealed from view of the rest of the Company, these two other frost giants are dozing in the shade. Sneaking back to his companions, he fills them in on the layout that he has see and they quickly develop a plan to strike from the air.
From the back of her hippogriff, Reece Meadowgrove spurs her mount through the air in a spirited charge, scoring a deadly strike against one of the giants even as Gilthoron, guiding his own mount with his knees, releases a storm of arrows at a second giant. At the far edge of her arcane range, Aislyn Willowblade summons an ice storm to pound the waking dire tigers while Orolonwë leads the hippogriffs being ridden by Cyrus and Kheldane, both under the effects of an invisibility spell. As the giants sound the alarm, the young monk and Keoish swordsman leap from their mount, allowing their rings of feather fall to slow their descent; they land lightly on a gate tower already occupied by one of the giants but their stealthy landing is spoiled by the low chuckle from Kheldane at the thought of the giant’s impending demise. The immense creature takes a wild swing at the invisible Kheldane but misses badly; from behind, Cyrus strikes a number of blows in rapid succession but, roaring a battle cry in a language that no one understands, Kheldane cleaves the giant in twain, spraying the tower with blood and gore.
Wheeling her hippogriff around, Reece spurs forward once more, landing a second deadly blow against her foe who, to no avail, hurls several large rocks at her fast-moving mount. Gilthoron’s foe drops, his heart pierced by no less than four well-placed arrows, as the three dire tigers take a second pounding from Aislyn’s ice storm.
Grinning at his sword-wielding companion, Cyrus charges forward and leaps across the 20 foot space separating the two gate towers before striking at the fourth giant with iron hands. Unable to replicate this feat, Kheldane instead leaps off his tower and falls upon one of the dire tigers. Suddenly surrounded by the immense creatures, he demonstrates an absolute lack of fear as he begins to dance ruin against them. Still circling her mount, Aislyn sees a number of hill giant reinforcements launch a salvo of crossbow bolts at Kheldane from what appears to be a hall of some sort and she retaliates with an explosive fireball that sears their weapons, rendering them useless. Alerted to the giant crossbowmen (now just rock hurlers), Gilthoron shifts his aim and drops one of the creatures with his lethal accuracy.
His giant foe reeling under his assaults, Cyrus presses him even as Reece charges her foe a third and final time before wheeling about in the sky. She lands her mount in the courtyard, discovering that Kheldane has already slain his three foes, and Aislyn has steadily reduced the numbers of the giant crossbowmen with magical fire. A hollow boom signals the fall of the giant facing Cyrus and the monk somersaults from the tower, landing in a crouch beside the corpse of his foe. Flanked by Kheldane and Reece, he races into the burned-out keep of the fort; triggering a trap, he easily eludes the large section of collapsing wall and is unsurprised at the two waiting giants that surge forward to attack him. At the same time, a flame strike envelops the three but to no effect: Cyrus, reacting instinctively, twists out of the way, while Kheldane’s earlier use of his dragonskin ability has granted him a near immunity to fire, and Reece’s magicked bastard sword, Eriol’dramm or Singlestroke in the common vernacular, grants her resistance against spells.
As the last of the crossbow-wielding giants falls, Aislyn allows herself a brief grin of satisfaction but the feeling of accomplishment fades quickly as the huge form of a dragon explodes from the keep. With scales a deep azure color, its frightful presence is too much for the three hippogriffs in the air and suddenly, Aislyn, Gilthoron and Orolonwë find themselves mounted atop terrified magical beasts who have but a single thought: escape! Only Aislyn is able to control her mount through the quick casting of a heart’s ease.
Climbing into the sky, the dragon disappears behind cloud cover but Kheldane, having already called upon his innate dragonskin ability, finds himself ill-equipped to combat a blue dragon. Hovering just above the keep, the dragon belches forth a searing bolt of electricity that wounds Kheldane badly before climbing once more into the sky; forced to retreat, Kheldane Dragonslayer fumes at his inability to affect the huge beast.
Leaving the two giants to Reece, Cyrus darts forward, locating the caster of the flame strike in the form of a brutish hill giant. With an cry to invoke Erythnul’s aid, the giant calls forth a blade barrier around him but Cyrus easily leaps back out of the way. Behind him, Reece drops one of the two giants and then, side-stepping a lumbering overhand strike, brings Eriol’dramm down in a decapitating strike that passes through the thick muscle of the giant’s neck with the ease of a red-hot blade through warm butter.
Realizing that Kheldane is unable to bring his mysterious anti-dragon abilities to use against the blue, Aislyn makes a quick decision and hurls a fireball at the great drake, thus drawing its attention. As she directs her hippogriff down to the ground (and thus cover), she momentarily worries that she has made a terrible mistake as the dragon quickly closes the distance separating them. To slow the monstrous creature down, she hurls a web at its wings and is only slightly less surprised than the dragon that her spell succeeds against the blue; kicking her mount hard, she drives it down into the ruined keep, flashing by Kheldane.
With a sudden leap, Cyrus twists through the blade barrier surrounding the hill giant cleric of Erythnul with relative ease; he is caught unprepared, however, for the creatue’s counterattack in the form of an immense morningstar. Hurled into the wall by the force of the blow, the monk collapses in a limp heap. With a roar of victory, the giant steps forward to finish his foe but Reece steps through the twirling blade barrier, her bastard sword held at the ready. Ducking under the giant’s mighty blow, she leaps forward and Eriol’dramm surges with power – the headless corpse of the immense cleric topples backward like a massive tree.
Outside the fort, the blue starts forward, clearly intent on attacking the insect that fireballed it but, discovering Kheldane standing in front of the keep, hesitates. For a heartbeat, the dragon appears ready to attack but decides instead to belch another bolt of arcane lightning before climbing back into the air. Still frustrated and now badly injured, Kheldane is forced to retreat back into the keep.
As the blue begins another loop toward the fort, a silver dragon dives from the sky and pounces atop the blue. Before their stunned eyes, the two creatures begin a deadly ballet in the sky, disappearing over the horizon. The Company ease a heavy sigh of relief – all save Kheldane, that is, for he is uncomfortably aware that the silver was…strangely familiar to him…

The Purest of Souls: the 5^th to the 13^th of Readying, Early Spring, 593:

By the time Gilthoron Orcrist and his cohort Orolonwë have returned to the old fort, the two dragons are long gone, disappeared over the northern horizon still locked in mortal combat. The Company quickly turns to stripping the giants of their valuables and looting the dragon's small lair - a massive hollowed-out section of the mountain from which the fort is constructed against. Standing before the lair, Cyrus cannot help but to consider how it would make an excellent training ground for monks.
Returning to the elven village with proof of their victory over the giants, the Company is only a little surprised to discover it abandoned. A single elven warrior, cloaked from head-to-toe in woodland green, awaits and presents a scroll tube to Reece before disappearing back into the surrounding forest. Gilthoron watches him depart, fully aware that forty trained huntsmen observe from concealment; despite his distaste for their barbaric customs, he is still impressed by the woodcraft of his woodland cousins.
As promised, the elderly Galdor has provided the Company with a carefully detailed map of the area surrounding Fortress Arcanis. A secret entrance into the dungeon is clearly marked and, from Reece, the heroes learn that it is from here that Galdor escaped the Exalted One's clutches some fifty years ago. The Company studies the map intensely, none moreso than Kheldane Dragonslayer who seeks a tactical advantage within the terrain. With the sun already sinking behind the mountains, they camp for the evening and prepare to return upon the follow morn.
Though she does not reveal it, Reece Meadowgrove is troubled. By the actions of the herald and the words he used when speaking to the Company, she has realized that Galdor no longer trusts her and this loss of home hurts greater than any of the vile depradations inflicted upon her body by the soldiers of the Exalted One. When she offers her aid to the Company as guide and sword-arm, it is accepted easily for she won much respect in the battle.
Midday on the sixth, the Company arrives back at Castle Erid and are pleased to discover it has not been destroyed by a horde of ravaging halflings. Nival Thriceborn, they learn, has been hard at work, having not stirred from the Lord's sitting room since before his companions departed the day previous. Though he has not discerned the destination of the doorways, he is convinced that he is close to determining which one leads to Fortress Arcanis.
For four days, the Once-Elven magister does not stir from his work. And, on the tenth of Readying, he emerges, exhausted but flush with success.
Armed with this knowledge, the Company decides upon a course of action. Reece Meadowgrove, the most familiar with the Valley’s terrain and natural hiding places, will lead many of Kheldane’s warriors atop their captured hippogriffs in a strike ‘gainst the Exalted One’s Fortress Arcanis, augmented by his unmounted troops and Gilthoron’s elvish raiders, already dispatched to an overwatch position. At the same time, the Company leadership will conduct a lightning raid through the doorway teleporter.
At the best of his lord, Orolonwë speaks before the assembled Company, seeking to inspire them to feats of high courage: “We ride against the enemy this day, and the enemy is Evil. But we shall not fear, for the gods are with us. We shall not fail, for we are the righteous hand of the gods, come to exact a cleansing on this land, and a reckoning for foul deeds, committed by a foul people. Cleanse them, we must! Cleanse them, we shall! Fight, and show them the reward of the wicked! Fight like the heroes of old! Fight like the heroes you are! Offer them the sword, and they shall offer you their backs. Fight with such ferocity, that those enemy that shall flee before you shall tell stories of your deeds to frighten their children into obedience. Some of you here today shall not return from this fight. Of this I am certain. Let each warrior look to his brother in arms. It is your solemn task...nay, duty...to cause the enemy to pay dearly for every drop of blood spilt on these grounds, so far from our homes. The gods will watch over this battle, and will greet the fallen on the other side with great glory and much reward. Fight!...with fire in your eyes, with honor in your hearts, with a fearsome shout on your lips, with swift death on the tips of your arrows and righteousness on the edge of your sword. Let fly and victory shall be ours!”
Dawn on the 13^th of Readying creeps up on silent feet and, in the Room of Doors, Nival Thriceborn scrys upon his familiar before Aislyn Willowblade drapes a cloak of invisibility over the toad; thus concealed, Trevor passes through the doorway. With the Once-Elven magister’s familiar clear in the arcane focus, the Company is able to get a layout of the room on the other side.
His greatsword held at the ready and cerulean scales adorning his dragonskin, Kheldane Dragonslayer takes the lead and passes through the doorway. In the space of a single step, he is transported some 50 leagues west, emerging in a room bare of decoration and marked only by the single closed door. As the rest of the Company passes through the teleporter and enters the room, Kheldane sneaks from the room, discovering a seemingly abandoned fortified manor house. In the distance, outside the house and no doubt emerging from somewhere in the inner bailey, he can hear ominous chanting. Once assured that the manor house does not hide concealed assassins, they sneak forward, entering the great hall and to the main doors. Looking out into the courtyard of the inner bailey, the Company sees a number of outlying buildings and tall towers, connected by a proud-looking wall.
Atop one of the towers is an immense sphere of incandescent energy, appearing much like a great eye, lidless and wreathed in flame. The chanting, yet ominous and rising slowly in pitch and tone, echoes from what appears to be an old temple and Cyrus, son of Foote, cloaked by an invisibility spell, races across the courtyard to investigate. Cracking open the temple door, he beholds a sinister sight: cloaked and hooded shapes sway in time with their chanting as a taller figure, equally clothed, stands before a bound woman, a wickedly-curved knife held aloft. Judging from their building voices, Cyrus reckons that little time remains and quickly darts back to his companions, informing them of the dire situation. Without hesitation, the Company surges into the courtyard, the invisible monk at the forefront.
As his companions reach the middle of the courtyard and he flings open the temple door, Cyrus is surprised to see the cloaked figures fade away as so much mist; too late, he realizes that he was looking upon an illusion and, as he turns to warn his comrades, a voice echoes out, chilling in its lack of emotion. “Hello, Nival. So nice of you to join us.” Armed men, holding aimed crossbows at the ready, appear all around the Company as concealing veils of illusion are swept away. A single man, gaunt with a shorn scalp and piercing eyes, appears before them, a sinister-looking quarterstaff held in his hand. A snarl escapes Nival Once-Elven, as he realizes they have walked into a trap: “Shiner!”
Orolonwë is the fastest among the Company to react, casting a quick spell that grants Gilthoron Orcrist a snake’s swiftness; with a blur of motion, the elvish archer draws and looses a shaft at the most heavily-armed of the surrounding men, his keen eyes undeceived by the illusion that is Shiner. The man grunts as the shaft strikes home and the image of the mage frowns with annoyance. “We cannot have that,” he snaps, slamming his quarterstaff down upon the ground.
Instantly, the courtyard is plunged in darkness as the burning eye blinks out, leaving only the dawn’s feeble light to illuminate. Staggering with surprise as the projected image vanishes, the Company suddenly realize what has happened as their magickal enhancements fade. Three of the Company – Aislyn, Nival, and Orolonwë – feel their ability to channel magic suddenly suppressed as Kheldane’s azure dragonskin dissolves into so much smoke. Nival is the first to realize that the Fortress was constructed atop one of the rare dead magic zones on Oerth and that the warding eye somehow created a bubble in which magic could operate; with a sinking feeling, he realizes just how much trouble they are in.
In the sudden silence, Shiner’s voice echoes from somewhere even as the Company hears the distant roar of a dragon and screams of hippogriffs: “I want Nival alive. Kill the rest.”
The air is suddenly alive with crossbow bolts as Kheldane bellows for the Company to retreat. No longer as lethal with his bow yet still quite deadly, Gilthoron snatches an arrow from Orolonwë’s unmagical quiver and releases the shaft at his previous target, backing into the manor house as his companions follow suit. In heartbeats, only Cyrus remains outside the house as he leaves himself exposed, hoping to draw fire from Aislyn and Nival but, once his companions are within, he too backs through the door.
Without magic to aid the Company, the battle belongs to Cyrus, Gilthoron and Kheldane who wield fist and longbow and sword with brutal efficiency; bones are broken, flesh is pierced limbs are hewn, and the floor quickly becomes slick with the blood of dead and dying men. Though nowhere near as martial, Aislyn, Nival and Orolonwë lend aid in whatever way possible, wielding mace, and staff, and longbow with as much desperate skill as possible.
In the end, it is the valor of the Company that wins the day. Gasping with exertion and leaking blood from angry wounds, they quickly converse and are informed of their dire peril by Nival Once-Elven: he cannot teleport them to safety as long as they are within the borders of the dead magic zone. Without that option, they must breach the secured gatehouse and then the gates in the outer bailey – a difficult proposition on an ordinary day if well defended. With a shout, they race out of the manor and charge across the courtyard, fully expecting a rain of arrows to cut them down.
Instead, the sky above the Fortress is suddenly ablaze with light as the burning eye springs back into existence. Renewed magic surges through the members of the Company, overwhelming all of them by Gilthoron by the sheer influx of raw magick. Movement in the tower from which the warding sphere rests draws his attention and his keen elf eyes pick out the figure of a robed figure stepping forward, fingers gesturing with the distinct motions of a spellcaster. Thought manifests itself as action and the elvish archer draws, aims, and looses in a blur. With a strangled gasp, the cloaked figure topples from view.
And all becomes silent.

The Purest of Souls: the 13^th of Readying, Early Spring, 593:

The early morning sun peaked over the Barrier Peaks, illuminating the Valley of the Mage with stark brilliance. Astride his hippogriff, Alfweald, son of Alfstahn, drew in a deep breath, the sharp tang of the air biting deep as he looked down upon the lush green carpet that was the forest. A smile touched his hard face as the spring wind caressed his face. This, he thought to himself, is how the gods must feel.

Almost at once, he shook his head to rid himself of the blasphemous thoughts and turned his attention back to the matter at hand, trying hard to ignore the glorious beauty of the Valley. He was riding to war and in such things; there was no place for such mooncalf thoughts. Glancing back, he studied the trim formation his troops managed, despite being hundreds of feet in the air. Once more, wonder nearly overwhelmed him as he considered his place. At no time in his thirty years of soldiering had he ever thought he would be winging across the sky astride a winged beast of war; this was the province of Heroes, not soldiers such as himself.

At the tip of the formation, the elvish warrior-maid Ashlyn Reece Meadowgrove rode, her plate-and-mail gleaming brightly in the dawn’s light. A helmet concealed her face but her hair hung loose, flying back in long streams of raven-dark tresses. Another smile briefly touched Alfweald’s face as her image brought to mind Heironeous’ own Brynhild; according to the older traditions of the Invincible One, those that Alfweald himself followed, the lord of battle sent forth warrior-maids to conduct the souls of the righteous slain to their final resting place.

The elvish maid raised her lance as a signal and Alfweald repeated it, noting with some satisfaction that his corporals looked to him instead of her. Lord Kheldane had appointed her battle commander for this raid but that meant little to the men; they knew well enough to obey Alfweald before anyone else, especially an elvish woman who looked barely old enough to be the sergeant’s daughter. It was true that she no doubt had many years on him, but Alfweald idly wondered how many of those years had been wasted frolicking around like all of the elves he had ever met.

A frown touched his face at this and Alfweald reconsidered the thought. The archer, Lord Gilthoron, was unlike any elves the Keoish soldier had met in his forty years, nor were the wood elves he gathered around him. They were grim, battle-hardened, and, in many ways, more like the human soldiers that had surrounded Alfweald all his life. None of them displayed the usual frivolity that he had grown to see as weakness in the olven peoples.

Lady Meadowgrove gave another signal and steered her hippogriff into a slow turn; as if trained from birth atop the beasts, his men followed suit and Alfweald felt a burst of pride at them. Only the best riders were here, the rest having force-marched forward with Lord Gilthoron’s elves, but all of them rode as if born in the saddle. One of the younger lads, Guthbold of Shiboleth, particularly rode as though he had always been astride the winged beasts though Alfweald knew as a fact that the boy had never even sat upon a horse before today.

The sun peaked higher over the mountains and a whistling shriek tore through the sky. With a gesture, Alfweald ordered his troops to fall into attack formations as he recognized the signal arrow launched by one of Lord Gilthoron’s huntsmen. The defenders of Fortress Arcanis had been sighted and were winging toward them now.

It was a good plan, Alfweald decided approvingly. Even if Lord Kheldane remained distant from the men that followed him, he was an expert at drawing up battle plans. The Company leadership, including the dangerously powerful wizard Nival, would conduct a lightning strike against the Fortress as the rest of the men would draw out the fortress defenders. Men would die but, if all went well, it would not be his men.

Lady Meadowgrove indicated that she had sighted the approaching defenders and Alfweald strained his eyes; yes, there they were. Ten strong but riding with the confidence born of a high level of skill; he frowned again as he recalculated. Though outnumbered 3-to-1, these defenders had the advantage of knowing the fully capability of these beasts. Much would depend upon the training he had tried to instill upon his men. Under his breath, he whispered a short prayer to Heironeous as the defenders neared. In the distance, he could see the Fortress and, for a moment, it stole his breath away.

Constructed atop three immense adjoining cliffs, the fortress overlooked the river that ran through much of the valley. A rolling incandescent sphere of energy swirled over the inner bailey and, even without knowing what it was capable of, Alfweald decided that taking the fortress by force would be hard. He refocused his eyes upon the rapidly approaching defenders and signaled to Corporal Siward who raised his battle horn and sounded the charge. With a yell, Alfweald spurred his mount forward, leveling his lance at the nearest of the foes.

It was too much to ask that they would win through without casualties. One of the defenders smote Ethelgar of Hookhill with a strike that could only be a lethal one and both Herebert and Leofborn, privates both, took fatal blows to the heads. Siward fell earthward, his steed slain by a well-placed strike; the corporal struggled with the releases of his saddle and let the magic in his ring slow his descent. A cold grin creased Alfweald’s face as he watched the corporal slowly descend: though robbed of his mount and rendered mostly ineffective, he had held on to his shortbow and was launching shafts at his foes. Lady Meadowgrove had struck hard, smiting her opponent once with the lance before discarding it and drawing her bastard sword. She and her foe danced in the sky, their hippogriffs struggling to avoiding crashing into one another as the two riders exchanged powerful blows; with a magnificent parry, Lady Meadowgrove batted away her man’s sword and, with a sudden reverse-strike, decapitated him.

Diving from cloud cover, an immense dragon, its scales the colors of a brilliant emerald, roared down, its talons ripping open flesh and steel. Dragonfear enveloped all and suddenly, the sky was filled with panicked men and beasts. Three soldiers fell, their bodies suddenly drenched in scarlet, and Alfweald could not tell who they were. Beneath him, his hippogriff exploded in a frenzy of terror, desperate to escape NOW. His own heart hammering within his chest, Alfweald sawed at the reins in a vain attempt to reorient the beast.

Roaring with amusement or perhaps contempt, the dragon belched forth a cone of acid that seared through man and beast alike – it was no comfort to see that it struck either side without regard to safety as he saw corporal Ethelmer’s chest melt away. Four men died in an instant and three more were rendered useless as the acid ate through their hippogriffs. Alfweald shouted curses as the green suddenly folded its wings and dove, opening up Siward with a backwards swipe of its talon.

Even Lady Meadowgrove, puissant as she was, was vulnerable to the frightful presence exuded by the drake; her hippogriff beat its wings in absolute horror, diving toward the forest in an effort to escape. Almost lazily, the dragon lashed out with its tail, crushing wings and sending her in an ever-tightening spiral to the ground.

And then, the silver struck.

It was of equal size to the green or perhaps slightly larger and had complete surprise as it dropped upon its foe, belching a frigid wave of frost and clawing with bloody talons. Shrieking with pain, the green twisted in mid-air and the two tumbled end over end, wicked talons opening up immense gashes that sprayed blood. For a moment, Alfweald felt a surge of hope but it died just as quickly: the silver was already wounded.

A flash of memory erupted in his mind as he recalled Lord Kheldane speaking of the fight with the blue dragon some days back. At the time, Alfweald had simply shook his head at his lord’s matter-of-fact recitation of the battle, almost as if he were ordering an ale at a local pub. “Yes, I’d like the fried potatoes, a spot of ham, a jug of ale, and did you know I fought a blue dragon today?” He had stated that a silver dragon had appeared to fight the blue there and there could be no doubt that this was the same. Something tickled the back of his mind – a fragment of a memory perhaps – but he pushed it away: the silver was falling, blood spurting from multiple wounds.

Fury swelled up within him and he yanked hard at the hippogriff’s reins; to his surprise, the creature responded and he kicked it forward. Leveling the lance, he kept kicking the creature in its flanks, refusing to give into the overwhelming fear that bubbled out from the immense creature. He had one chance…

His lance struck true, piercing the dragon’s back and punching deep into its flesh; it roared in agony and too late Alfweald saw its tail flashing through the air. With a crunch of collapsing bones, the hippogriff folded around the tail and began its descent but Alfweald wasn’t yet done. A calmness had flowed over him and the fear of death was washed away as he ripped free from the saddle straps. He tore his longsword from its scabbard – it had been one of the magic weapons discovered in the lake castle and unclaimed by Lord Kheldane or his companions. With a herculean effort, Alfweald threw himself at the green.

He struck hard, the longsword slicing through the scales and into flesh. Another roar was torn from the creature’s mouth and it backhanded Alfweald with a mighty blow that sent him tumbling through the sky. As if furious at the wounds he had wrought, it pursued, breathing deeply and vomiting forth a great gout of acid. Pain ripped through him then, agony unlike anything he had ever experienced. He smelled seared flesh and knew it was his. He felt the wind in his hair and knew that he was falling. With his one intact eye, he could see that the hand that had borne his ring of featherfall was gone. Had he a mouth, he would have smiled.

And still, the dragon pursued, its baleful eyes fixed firmly on his. Blood streamed from its back and, to his surprise, Alfweald realized he could still see the lance and the longsword standing out from the dragon’s back. He tried to spit in the creature’s face, to show his defiance even in the face of death, but there was no strength left.

Something whispered by him and he felt rather than heard the green’s sudden shriek of pain. His fall slowed and he stared through his ruined eye as the silver, drenched in blood, ravaged one of the green’s wings with a mighty bite. It tumbled, faster now, unable to slow, and smashed atop the hillside with titanic force. Straining to lift his head, Alfweald sought out the silver’s eyes.

With amazing grace for one so large, it cradled him in its talons and slowly descended. The tickle at the back of his brain returned and, spent and broken, Alfweald had no strength to fight it. Something about the silver was familiar to him, something…

“Sleep now, brave captain,” the silver whispered to him. “Seek out your reward.”

His breath came in labored gasps now. The end was close and, to his surprise, he still felt no fear.

Nor shall you, a voice whispered around him. Brynhild stood there beside the silver, gleaming in resplendent plate-and-mail, her shield glittering like a beacon. She smiled down at him and his pain eased, lifted, dissolved. The silver looked at her, flanks yet heaving with exertion and stained with blood.

“Canst thou heal him?” the silver asked, her voice soft. Her voice? How did he know that? “He didst do me a boon.” And then, he knew her. He struggled to speak, to whisper her name but could not.

Brynhild leaned down, touching her lips to his forehead.

And he knew nothing more.