Game Date: April 8th, 2007 (Silver Creek, NY – The Shop)
Experience: 4,700 per player, 4,230 per cohort.
CHAPTER ONE – The Keep Is Finished
As the last traces of screaming and chaos echoed through their ears, the adventurers could still smell the burning flesh; the ashes of toppled structures mixed with the fetid slime of the monstrous beast that consumed the center of Burrowshead. They stood in the quiet, sun-bathed field just at the southern tip of Mount Mirabel. Eventually, the ringing in their heads stopped, and the only disturbance in the silence came from a songbird high in the trees above them. A light wind brought false comfort to the group, but it was enough of a fantasy that everyone took a small moment to indulge in. When they opened their eyes and gathered a quick headcount to make sure the teleport spell had transported them all safely, they marched on towards the small town of Arathax in silence. The village of Arathax was a small dot at the base of the mountain range, gathering its sustenance from the trade route that ran through it. It was the likeness of a small child, suckling from the breast of its mother, taking great care never to stray too far from its source of life. The slight irony of it all, however, was that Arathax was the epitome of anything but life. Ragged buildings supported unsuccessful businesses and poor citizens. Everywhere, despite the valiant attempts at prosperity, endeavors were met with failure. It wasn’t that the people weren’t hearty or willing, rather the location was primed for wayside bandit attacks, scam artists and anyone else looking to make a quick profit without threat of law. The trade route running through the town was closed during the winter months, and any traffic that decided to use the road quickly passed through, often not wanting to stay in the decrepit taverns. They knew they would never get the proper worth for their wares, and no one stopped.Barbarian nomads frequented the fields to the east of the village, frightening many of the “civilized” folk, and the dreaded zobo bears were a constant nuisance, making trade difficult for even the most seasoned veterans. It was an issue of location and simply that, nothing more, nothing less.
It was the perfect place to build a keep.
Pontius followed Namakin with the rest of the group in tow up the winding pathway on the side of Mount Mirabel. They passed through Arathax and continued up towards the fog covered peak. It was the first time they would see their keep since they had envisioned it only a year ago. In reality, the time lapse had been such that it was only a few days, but that did not make the vision of the massive structure any less impressive. With the workers leaving in droves, the adventurers were able to talk to the project’s leader, who promptly gave them a tour of their new facility. Everything they could have needed, and unfortunately would probably require, was inside the keep. In addition to a fully staffed group of followers, the building was nearly self-aware, protected with the utmost in magical care and physical fortifications. It was a structure that rivaled the great halls of Alaron, and as a result, the group enjoyed a little notoriety from the Arathax commoners.
Talks of the “protectors” and prosperity were synonymous among the townsfolk. They referred to the keep as the “Great Castle”, “The Mountain’s Maw” and “Thunder Spire”. The latter was an unfortunate nickname to the group, as the cause of the great rolling thunder came not from their keep, but rather a mysterious force deeper within the mountain range. It was decided that they would keep silent about it until more information could be gathered. Up to that point, they would just keep a tentative ear and watchful eye directed towards the rear of their keep. For now, the small village looked to them as heroes, and it was a pleasant thing to be surrounded with, especially when the harsh reality of Alaron’s remainder had a sword pointed at their throats.
The next day, a heartfelt reunion with Amadius, Falstrom and Ghanadar occurred as the older men met for the first time at the new keep. They were awe-struck, of course, and it did nothing more than bolster their resolve for the coming battle. Everyone sat down in the keep’s library, taking a well needed rest before devising a plan. Amadius explained that they had all just returned from a risky trip of Calad Brae, one in which he alone was able to gain the company of Omus. His discussion with the Magistrate of Alaron’s capital went well, in his eyes, although he voiced a continuing distrust for the man and warned everyone to be on their guard. Omus had agreed to pardon everyone, and while the terms of what “pardon” meant were uncertain, the fact that they were let go alive was enough. Falstrom surmised that with a keep of this magnitude, Omus undoubtedly knew where they were, so there was no fear of being tracked. And, he added, that if Omus did not know, his brother Gareth surely did. After all, he did not become the most successful trader in all of the Isles by not keeping tabs on his competition.
Most disturbing of all, was the fact that Omus personally wanted to apologize to the adventurers. It smelled of a trap, and the veterans offered no advice to the group other than “go with your heart.” It was a non-important issue at the moment, everyone decided, and a trip to Cherrywood was elected as their first stop to claim the final shard to the Acropolis. If they could find the Pale Commander’s life source, they could erase a terrible blight from the face of the world.
Amadius elected to stay back, adding that 300 of the Nightwatch, still loyal to him, were on their way up via the eastern plains. Only a few of the elite rangers perished during the coup, while the rest retreated to different ends of the island, sending information via animal and secret code. The time had come to regroup with their leader, and the scattered groups slowly converged upon the newly built fortress.
Another clap of thunder reminded the adventures of the ever-watchful presence behind the mountain, and it was decided to have the Nightwatch investigate while the group was away, given that they were not in any immediate danger. Goodbyes were said, and the five heros began their final trip to Cherrywood, to victory or death.
CHAPTER TWO – Final Trip To Cherrywood
The stale air inside the cavern was still heavy with the stench of death. It had been over a year since the Pale Commander and his lackeys had occupied this maze of tunnels and crawlspaces beneath Cherrywood, and it had been almost as long since he had unleashed hell on the small town. The group had arrived in the exact location that they had met with the Commander during their last visit, in a cavern just beneath the town’s well. When they were here before, the lich had the upper hand, offering the seven skulls that sat perched on the various stone altars around the room. It was meant as an offer of good faith, and the ridiculous nature of it all was not lost on any of the adventurers. The Commander had given them the items for a reason, although it was at the time unclear.
A wide beam of sunlight filled the room from the sky above, streaming down the well, making every small particle in the air visible. The stone altars were empty now, covered with dust, and standing with a stubbornness in the empty room – perhaps waiting for their master to return. Pontius, along with the rest of the group, breathed a sigh of relief when the light sounds of people talking and hoofs along the dirt road filtered down the well to their ears. To what amount of normalcy Cherrywood had returned to, they were unsure, but it was a step in the right direction at the very least. The peace would not last for long, however.
It wasn’t long before a heavy rush of air, accompanied by a ghostly white light was spotted, well down the hall from their current position. The group followed and took great care not to get too close to the apparition for fear of scaring, or worse, angering it. Twisting and turning down multiple caverns, the wispy form came to rest down a dog leg tunnel, wrapping around an ivory altar near the end, much in the same way a cat would sun itself on a ledge. The adventurers stood at the end of the hallway, sending Draz to investigate the strange vision. When the tiny psuedodragon confirmed that it seemed to be harmless, everyone moved deeper into the cavern to investigate the strange altar and the form hovering above it. Motioning to the group, Loutarin offered to take out the skulls that they had taken from the tunnels, perhaps seeing if they had any effect on the situation. Unfortunately, one by one, none of the skulls provoked any response.
That was, until the ivory skull was shown.
The ghostly blob rose slowly until it covered the cavern ceiling above the altar. Slowly, with purpose, it moved over the adventurers toward Loutarin, holding the skull high. The rogue moved slowly backward, coaxing the form to follow him further through the tunnel. At the same time, a low rumble filled the air, trembling the ground and shaking small streams of dust from above. Apparently, the ivory skull attracted something else, and by the looks on everyone’s face, it was not happy. The rumbling grew louder and louder and still the illuminated mist followed Loutarin addictively. If it had eyes, they would surely be fixed on the skeletal headpiece in his grasp.
Then, as if in confirmation of the danger everyone assumed, a blast of sand, dust and rock exploded at the entrance of the tunnel. Immediately, everyone retreated towards the altar which Namakin made the quick decision to destroy with one simple disintegrate spell. Before the dust settled, another deafening blast came from the corner wall. It was enough to terrify even the bravest warrior – the Pale Commander’s personal bodyguards, huge earth-dwelling larvae capable of incapacitating the living by their mere presence. Small barbed tentacles flew everywhere, preventing any close combat, while an aching force affected everyone in the group, draining their life force. Behind them, Pontius and Namakin warned the group that very walls of the cavern were bleeding! How streams of blood poured down the walls to pool into fiery shapes – with a speed that was unnerving, the forms slid over the rocky ground towards the group, flanking an already heated battle.
As the fight raged on, spells were fired and weapons were unleashed with fury. Ander was able to turn one of the large larvae, sending it retreating back in the earth, and the adventurers focused all of their remaining energies on the final guardian. In the end, they were victorious, but not without extreme sacrifice. Many of them were bloodied and bruised, out of breath and most likely unable to take another wave of the vicious beasts. Loutarin noticed that throughout everything, the strange white mist stayed close to the skull, and even now continued to writhe on the ceiling above the item. Without a word, everyone looked at each other and nodded their silent approval.
Loutarin lifted the skull above his head, smashing on the rock floor and sending pieces of ivory everywhere. A wind that could only be described as a gale rushed through the caverns and what was once the misty form transformed into a blinding light before being extinguished completely in a loud scream. Roars of what could have only been more of the larvae-creatures also reverberated through the tunnels, giving away the fact that there were at least four more of them lurking the depths. When the chaos subsided and the group looked at the ground in shock, they saw only one thing: the final shard, freed from its prison that was the Pale Commander’s phylactery. Scooping it up, no time was wasted to leave the place and never return again. Namakin and Loutarin both began their preparations to teleport back to the keep.
CHAPTER THREE – The Shadow Drink/Explanation to the Tribunal
When the final shard was brought back to the keep and everyone stood, looking at the three pieces that would form the key to Iron Acropolis, a hush fell over them. They were gathered in the library again, against the giant backdrop of a massive window that faced the mountain in the rear of the keep. No time was wasted, and the three items were moved together, instantly fusing in a bright supernatural light. To those in the immediate presence, time stopped. For a few seconds, sounds were silenced, the skies outside darkened for a moment, and a single deep resonating ping was thrown out to the countryside. When the birds began to sing and the cloudy haze drifted from everyone’s minds, a single teardrop-shaped crystalline item was left. The key to the Iron Acropolis was in their hands.
The next step, they decided was to have the veterans remain as they traveled to the Brothers O’Toole in search of more leads – now that they had the key, they would need the location of the entrance, and what to expect once inside.
After arriving at the tavern that their friends called home, it took a while before they were able to find Egeus and Valgres. Talking to the barkeep, he led them back to what used to be the secret gaming room where many coins were won and lost – the true source of income of the bar. This time, however, instead of tables and games to be won, only the two brothers stood in front of an alchemist’s set, carefully pouring and mixing some type of dark blue liquid. It was explained to the group that during their time in Cherrywood and beyond, Valgres had obtained a valuable murky substance from a few rogue clerics of Cyric. After Marzul was destroyed, the few clerics he was able to muster quickly fell into disarray, and they sold their possessions to feed whatever demented addictions they made their daily routine. Valgres had paid well for the substance, what was rumored to be the saliva of shadows, the stuff of the netherworld. Mixed properly with the Dragon’s Breath (a potent alcohol-infused drink used to achieve a lucid dream state – a popular means of communication for the two over long distances), the two brothers found a new “frontier” to explore. They did not expect, however, to find a shocking revelation.
Valgres, who first created the drink, explained the experience as entering a world where nothing exists, yet one can travel at will. The landscape was an exact replica of the everyday world, expect that there were no living beings, just the landscape. A simple thought propelled you to a desired location and back again. He mentioned that the affect only lasted for roughly an hour, and one cannot control when they leave or enter the state of mind. The potion simply has to wear off. He surmised that it may be some sort of potion between traders, as once the potion wears off, you return to the real world in that location!
All this aside, he showed it to Egeus, and both fo them together found a frightening fact – on the walls of certain cities were written premonitions and predictions of the group’s actions! It was if someone was foretelling their fate. The brothers had begun creating as much as they could of the vile drink, but were fast running out. They gave as much as they could to the group, asking them to use it with caution, if at all. Other pressing matters came to light, however: Omus had sent an emissary to Feymore where it was said that high priests and priestesses of the Tribunal were gathering at the head temple of Lathander. Egeus had heard rumors of a map to the Acropolis, and sending someone to prevent Lathander’s demise at the hands of the Ancient Evil. Rumors had also surfaced that included names of the group, specifically Ander. It was decided to go to Feymore and confront the churches. If they had the map, it would be the last piece they needed.
With trepidation, the adventurers showed their faces at the gates of Lathader’s temple in Feymore, a place where they had outwardly betrayed the word of the church, and in the case of Ander, turning away from his god altogether. It was a something that was not taken lightly by the head cleric, Cogon. After voicing the Tribunal’s mixed feelings for the group, despite their predicament, it was decided that Ander would be questioned in front of the council on the next morning. The fact that they had the key said much, and many of the Tribunal had viewed them as the prophesized messiahs of legend. The other half of the Tribunal viewed them as traitors and treasure seekers, given alliances (while temporary) with Cyric and Mask.
Perhaps the largest proponent of the group, and surprising to them as well, as the high priest of Torm, Amblin. He explained that he was the emissary that Omus had sent, after he was successfully able to hide his identity in his search for the group. Amblin was able to get close to Omus due to the diligence of a gnome mechanic by the name of Pritchard, who was building a series of mysterious machines for the mage. It was Amblin’s plan to stay within Omus’ walls and learn everything he could about the strange power monger, all the while relaying it back to the adventurers.
He instructed the group to be strong, stubborn, but not disrespectful when addressing the high priests. He let them know that he would fill them in on the details within the coming hours, but that the Tribunal expected explanations, and good ones, from the group that was dividing the churches’ opinion. He asked them to get some sleep, and he would talk to them before the hearing in front of the council – for now, he let them know that the key was theirs, and to hold onto it tighter than anything they have protected in the past.
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