Game Date: July 13th, 2007 (Bethel Park, PA - John’s House)

Experience: 4,500 per player, 4,000 per cohort.

CHAPTER THREE - Mendesa/The Pillar at Falstrom’s Ranch

An image of Falstrom’s ranch wavered and pulsed on the plain piece of parchment that the group had received from the Tribunal.  It was the map to the Iron Acropolis – not the original, the one that was meant to be created by the fabled barbarian axe that Ander carried.  No, this was a result of magic and research.  A collaboration of minds over the past hundred years to create a map that would lead the bearers of the shards to the doorstep of the Acropolis.  Nevertheless, the image that appeared on the paper was so real it was as though one could reach in and touch it.  There was nothing more on the map other than the image of Loutarin’s home, now broken and battered after the coup in Calad Brae. 

In unanimous agreement, the adventurers teleported to the cemetery in Calad Brae, reiterating to Amadius and Falstrom that they would remain safe in the keep.  Everyone knew that could very well be a lie, but no one spoke.  The large graveyard was, by all accounts, the only place that Omus’ prying eyes had not gone.  Whether it was because he had a certain respect for the dead, or if there was some nether-magic protecting it, the group could only guess.  It was a question that was irrelevant – they would be relatively safe here, and that was enough. 

When a movement caught Pontius’ eye, the party members went on the defensive, each one ready for battle.  The movement continued, and as the rising sun crested the horizon, the groundskeeper Mendesa’s form could be seen chasing around a fat groundhog, yelling obscenities and cursing the animal for ruining the sacred grounds.  Pontius raised his bow, and in one quick movement sent the steel tip of an arrow clean through the animal, sending pieces of flesh and a fine red mist raining down on the wide-eyed groundskeeper.  There was, for the moment, some levity as the group walked forward to greet their old friend, smirks and chuckles aside. 

Wiping the blood from his face, Mendesa explained that the city was under strict control of Omus, something the entire party knew.  They were not aware of what level the control had taken the citizens, however, until Draz flew out of the cemetery perimeter and was immediately bombarded by a strong mental suggestion to support Omus.  The creature returned, luckily unfazed, and relayed the info.  It was decided that the only way to Falstrom’s farm would have to be under the guise of night.  Mendesa arranged for the group’s transport via the horse-drawn cart that brought the dead to the cemetery gates.  It was an unceremonious means of transportation to be sure, but it got the job done.  The adventurers loaded themselves into the stinking empty coffins that were the result of the latest delivery, and in no time exited the gates on their way to Falstrom’s home. 

The images on the parchment continued to swirl and meld together as if they were nothing more than reflections in a pool.  As the party moved to the location displayed, the image would change, revealing a more detailed path than the last, until finally everyone found themselves standing in the wine cellar of the abandoned ranch.  Even Loutarin, who had lived here for years, had not known about the secret door that was hidden in the floorboards of the dining room, but the map had shown them without hesitation.  As they investigated the dusty basement further, Namakin noticed a large circle carved into the floor, now covered with years of cobwebs and debris.  Surrounding the shape were runic symbols and a large tear-shaped embossment was carved into the center.  Without much thought, the group placed the crystal tear, the result of the three alignment shards, into the middle of the circle. 

At first nothing more than a low-pitched hum filled the room.  It was the sound of an something ancient, a machine that had been put into motion after countless years.  This circle, the group would soon find out, was nothing more than a keyhole to a larger mechanism that possibly lay under the city.  It was nothing more than a lock, and fortunately they had the key.  As the hum soon became an audible whirring, the large stone disc on the floor radiated a soft blue light, increasing with the sound as if they were one in the same.  The noise of scraping stone could be heard as the runes began turning faster and faster, until the large circle in the middle of the floor was nothing more than a screeching vortex with some unseen purpose.  Shielding their eyes, everyone backed away as the basement was filled with a bright light and deafening tone, and without warning it happened.  The rune-encrusted disc was thrown violently upward, through the top of Falstrom’s ranch and into the heaven’s above, presumably to fall in some open field, broken and unrecognizable.  A pillar of pure white light shot into the sky, sending the group on their heels and running out of the basement.  They ran blindly, of course, hoping that they could get far enough away before whatever evil they had unleashed was upon them – but it never came.  There no monsters, no creatures of death and no threats.  There was simply the large pulsating pillar of light, visible for miles, emanating from what was once the wine cellar and living room of Falstrom. 

Loutarin, Pontius, Namakin, Ander and Relak sat on the grassy field outside of the house, staring in awe at what they had activated.  It was a beautiful sight, reaching far into the heavens, and while it was of the purest light, no heat came from it.  Whether it was an incarnation of magic or simply the work of the gods themselves, no one knew.  Looking once more at the map, a new location was unveiled and Loutarin found that the tear-shaped key had once again returned to his pouch.  the image was that of the Thistled Den, and everyone knew that regardless of where they decided to go, they could not stay here.  As much as they wanted to, there was no keeping this secret.  Deciding to go to Shen Sao’s for help, the group made haste into the city, actively trying to avoid the calls of the guards that were already on their way to Falstrom’s.

CHAPTER FOUR - The Pillar at the Thistled Den /Into the Beast

There was no way around it: the group would not be able to enter the Thistled Den, given the fact that they had caused a large disturbance there a little over a year ago.  Relak remembered it well, for it was his life that was spared because of the group’s actions.  The ogre did not forget what it was like to be shunned by the human guards simply for being a different race.  If it were not for the adventurers coming out of the tavern that night, he may have fallen victim to the powerful patrols that scoured the streets every night.  It was a long time ago, but under the city’s current leadership, no one could take the chance that they had been forgotten.  Everyone agreed that the only way into the tavern was in disguise. 

Shen Sao had suggested that perhaps a more direct route should be taken, especially since the surface was riddled with wards and mind-affecting spells that kept the populous under control.  He introduced a large tunnel system beneath the city, one that his organization often used to skirt the trade laws that had recently been imposed.  The sub-roads had been used long ago by the founding fathers of Calad Brae, during times of war, when the city was nothing more than a bustling town.  Now, they were long forgotten, known only to those who had privileged information of their layouts. 

Wasting no time, the adventures thanked their host and made their way to the Thistled Den by way of the ancient under-city.  Upon their arrival, it was made entirely clear (after some searching of course) that they would not need to go into the tavern at all.  The tunnels had led them straight under the structure, into a long forgotten room, extremely similar to that below Falstrom’s ranch.  Crawling beneath the floorboards they watched through the cracks above to see the patrons laughing and enjoying their night.  They moved quietly, despite the slim chance that anyone would hear them over the din above.  Everyone knew somehow that they would find another of the ancient runic discs at this location – they weren’t sure how and no one spoke of it, but they all shared the same thought.  And with a minimal amount of effort, they found it.

It was covered in a thick layer of dust, just below the bar above, waiting silently in a long-forgotten storage cellar beneath the sub-floor.  Pulling out the tear-shaped key, Ander followed the same ritual, and this time everyone knew what to expect.  The group shielded their eyes as the disc was activated, humming softly at first with a pale glow, and then growing until the the light filled even the tavern above.  Screams and gasps could be heard from inside the building as the people saw the streams of white light piercing the floorboards.  It would be the last thing many of them saw.

Throwing tables, chairs and humans alike, the second pillar roared into the night sky almost as a compliment to the pillar rising out of Falstrom’s.  Any of those unfortunate souls caught in the blast radius were no more.  The room below was illuminated to the point of blindness, but Loutarin was able to get a look at the map for a moment.  The image had now changed to the marble floor of the Great Hall, Omus’ home.  Pontius screamed to the group that they must retreat and move on, and it echoed true.  Through the chaos Louatrin and Namakin teleported everyone back to the keep – there would be no more activity in Calad Brae.  Even if they were able to somehow enter the Great Hall, the city was no doubt on full alert after tonight’s events.  Now, they were safe in their mountain fortress, and a plan was needed.

They explained the situation to Falstrom, Ghanadar and Amadius – it was dire indeed.  The cool autumn air swept across the ramparts of the keep, and the adventurers stood on the walls looking out to the horizon.  There was no mistaking it: even from this distance, two huge pillars stretched to the sky as though the city was reaching its hands to the gods for help.  No one spoke.  They could not go back to Calad Brae tonight, and by Namakin’s estimation, the six days had passed since they left Feymore – Berimaan would be waiting for them at Burrowshead’s gates.

The next morning the group arrived at the knotted tree that Berimaan spoke of earlier where they were to meet.  As promised, he was there, and this time he had information for them – a task.  Cordiality aside, the mage revealed that he was indeed one of the original seven who had summoned the Ancient Evil, and that he alone knew how to defeat it.  There was but one way, and it was trapped inside the beast.

His task was this: travel inside the Ancient Evil to a place he was not able to go and retrieve an item that would ensure it’s demise.  Berimaan explained that because of the dual nature of the alignments contained within the creature, he was able to fend off the total consumption of his conscience, at least for now.   The evil inside was far greater than the good, and every day was a constant battle for sanity.  He offered them entrance into the conscience, as well as an exit should they need to escape, but he let them know the decision had to be made then.  The more time that passed, the weaker he became. 

The group inquired as to the importance of this, especially since Mask was on the heels of obtaining the Commands of the Gods.  Berimaan’s reply was simple: if the Ancient Evil is not destroyed, the Iron Acropolis and all that surrounds it will mean nothing.  Only by banishing this force from the Material Plane permanently would there ever be any balance.  If the group could have collectively sighed, they would have.  Once again, they had jumped out of the boiling water and into the fire. 

The decision had been made: after preparations, Berimaan would consume and then guide them, giving them entrance to stand face-to-face with a creature no one has even been able to defeat.