Session 18 – “Into the Belly of the Beast”

Game Date: July 14th, 2007 (Bethel Park, PA - John’s House)

Experience: 5,825 per player, 5,200 per cohort.

Battle Details:
8 Constrictor Snakes, Giant – CR 5
7 Medusae – CR 7
2 Frost Worms – CR 12
20 Greater Shadows – CR 8
3 Devourers – CR 11
1 Nightcrawler – CR 18

CHAPTER ONE - Entrance/Namakin’s Path 

It had been a unanimous decision: in order to make their journey for the Commands of the Gods worth anything, the group would have to defeat the Ancient Evil.  One of the original summoners of the creature, Berimaan, convinced them to enter into the collective conscience of the great beast.  Once inside, he would show them the way to a means of defeating the great aberration.  When asked why he could not retrieve the item himself, his reply was only that he did not have the strength.  Since he was part of the collective mind of the monster, his good-aligned essence was slowly being deteriorated by the overwhelming evil presence within.  The creature had simply devoured more evil, Demagorgon being the catalyst, than good.  It was only a matter of time before Berimaan’s futile resistance was crushed.

Again, he explained that the Commands of the Gods would be useless if the Ancient Evil was allowed to live.  Now that the Pale Commander was dead and exerted no control over the creature, it was nothing more than a roving garbage disposal – eating the destroying anything that came into its path.  The adventurers were torn – they had spent the past year searching for an entrance to the Acropolis, and now they finally had the map, yet they were abandoning their cause!  Berimaan’s word rung true, however, and the five companions sullenly agreed that it was the only choice they had right now.  When, or more appropriately IF they came out alive, they would resume their objective of finding the Acropolis’ entrance.  Time was their worst enemy at this point.

When they were ready, Berimaan reached out his hand, touching Pontius on the shoulder.  His hand became viscous, and seemed to liquidate on the ranger’s armor.  Before he knew it, the slimy appendage that now began to work its way back towards Berimaan covered him until he was nothing more than a thick reflective wax like blob.  What was once his arm began to envelope Pontius, dripping onto the green grass below and slithering towards the other party members.  Despite their strength, the eerie nature of the consuming force was felt in each of their pounding hearts.  In an instant, the creature had taken them.

There was nothing but silence.

In the blink of an eye, the slowly changing autumn fields had been replaced with a warm underground breeze and a dark stone corridor.  The sounds of a large battle echoed down the hallway from a distance.  It didn’t take long for the group to realize that they were beneath the surface, or they were at least treated to the illusion that they were below the ground.  They all knew that anything they “saw” was simply the result of the Ancient Evil’s mind – a manifestation made to look, smell and feel familiar.  Ander looked over at Namakin to see the small gnome shaking off some sort of mental attack.  When he attempted to help his friend, Namakin simply held up a hand and let him know that he was in no danger.  The creature had attempted to infiltrate the mage’s thoughts, but was unsuccessful.  Everyone grouped together and made their way down the cavern towards the sounds of fighting.  There was only one way out of this situation – with or without the means to destroy this creature.

Upon reaching the end of the tunnel, the vista displayed before them was one of carnage – a gnomish city being ravaged by an attacking force.  Namakin recognized it as the home he had left long ago with Ghanadar.  He had never known what became of his mother and father, and for all he knew they were still alive, living happily beneath the surface in their ancient home.  Despite strong attempts to make him believe otherwise, he knew that this display was nothing more than an image conjured up by the beast they were contained in.  With that knowledge, he prompted his friends to move forward.  Berimaan’s voice whispered delicately inside each one of their minds, mentally highlighting their intended path to push through these illusions.  He explained that in order to reach their destination, they would have to prove their willpower, a series of tests that each one of them must pass or be forever entombed.  Namakin had beaten the attack on his mind, would the others be so lucky?

The adventurers entered the flaming city from the north, walking onto a main street that was filled with panicked gnomes and littered with the corpses of those not so lucky.  The street itself almost seemed to be alive with movement, and upon closer inspection was teeming with snakes of all sizes, ranging from tiny tree snakes to massive constrictors.  Everyone was immediately thrown into battle, keeping careful watch not to let any of the larger serpents get a hold.  Namakin had to pay special care, as one wrong move could send him into oblivion against the bigger foes.  For what seemed like an eternity, the friends fought off wave after wave of the snakes, only to have a volley of arrows fly by their heads, narrowly sending them to their doom – one fall could prove disastrous.  Loutarin looked up and quickly averted his eyes at the source of the arrows – medusae!

The fight had taken a new and dangerous turn, one that kept the group busy and not pitted them against a smarter enemy.  The medusae came from all directions and many were cut down with ease.  The weapons and magic of the party proved quite powerful and filled the streets with a veritable river of green blood from the attackers.  More than a few times, the serpents injected vile poison after biting the group, and Namakin fell victim to one of the large constrictors, but it was the final enemy that truly put a chill in their bones.  When two large frost worms erupted in the middle of the town, the medusae and snakes seemed pitiful in comparison, and the chaos in the town rose to a new level.  Screams were easily deafened by the roar of the worms, and the group took a defensive stance, making sure not to let the enemy get the upper hand. 

The fight lasted long, with the worms working in tandem, attempting to flank the smaller creatures, but in the end the sheer power of Namakin & Ander’s magic, coupled with Loutarin’s deadly rapier & Pontius’ lethal bow proved too much.  They fell after their killing blows, but not before erupting into a thousands of shards of ice and debris – a final act of defiance that almost brought the adventurers to death’s door.  Battered and bruised, the group quickly used their healing spells to replenish their health.  They made sure that everyone was alright, silently cursing the sick and twisted nature of the Ancient Evil.  After witnessing the combination of foes in this town, the group didn’t know what to expect from here on out.  If a frost worm and medusae could appear in a gnomish city, there was no rhyme or reason as to what they would be facing next. 

Crying from a nearby house caught their attention, and upon investigation, revealed a morbid scene.  Namakin’s “parents” were strung up on the wall, obviously tortured and in great pain, barely hanging onto life.  They saw their son as he entered the room and they plead him for help, wailing and appealing to his sense of mercy.  Below them stood a menacing figure, one that the adventurers had never seen before – that of a dark haired mage, one who was apparently taking great pleasure in causing the two victims pain.  Namakin once again felt the pangs of a mental attack deep within his thoughts – and once again fought it off without harm.  Even though he realized that these images were fake, they were hard to stomach.  Ignoring the thoughts, he whispered the beginning of spell meant to destroy the mage, but it was too late.  In his defiance of the fraud, the disturbing image was no longer there.  Only a shining portal now stood where his parents were, and Berimaan’s whispered thoughts again prompted them forward before more danger came.

Namakin had beaten the Ancient Evil’s test.  The group moved forward into the portal, and into the unknown.

CHAPTER TWO - Ander’s Path/Loutarin’s Death

It wasn’t more than a instant after they had stepped blindly into the lit portal that they found themselves standing under the open sky.  It was amazing that even though everyone knew their surroundings were fake, how real they looked.  Strange horizons stretched out in every direction, however, making the reality of it all a little easier to dismiss.  Fiery skies loomed to the west, an unnatural thunderstorm to the east, snow to the south and the wispy signs of a sandstorm to the west.  In front of the them, less than a few hundred yards, was a small village bustling with its daily activities.  The village could not have been more than a collection of twenty or more houses, a small commons hall and a few posts where business was conducted.

This time, Ander felt the crawling tendrils of the Ancient Evil, slithering mentally into his head and trying to grasp a hold of something to exploit.  The cleric recognized what this was supposed to be – this village was the one he had lived in many years ago.  In reality, it was destroyed by a rogue necromancer and his followers, nothing was spared.  It was only by the grace of some god that Ander had escaped as a child.  The destruction of his village was his reasoning for joining the ranks of Lathander, to fight the undead and wipe their kind from the earth.  Now, the creature in his head was trying to make him believe that this village was real, that it had not been destroyed.  Ander knew better, and after years of mental training, shrugged the attack off.  Was that all the Ancient Evil could muster?  Ander knew that was probably not true, but he didn’t argue.

The rest of the group saw what had just happened, and suggested that they move forward.  It was only after Ander saw the lone man on the horse-drawn cart did he understand what must be done.  The man was entering the village, cloaked and ready to unleash his minions on the unsuspecting men, women and children.  It was the mage that had killed his family and the rest of the villagers long ago.  Even in this false reality, Ander would take great pleasure in destroying this one. 

By the time the group had decided to act, the hooded figure was already well into the middle of the village, and mumbling some sort of incantation.  Pontius loosed a volley of arrows at the cart, hitting the necromancer and sending his cart into a full run.  Namakin threw a fireball immediately after, ensuring he would not get far.  The cart exploded into a globe of flame, and crashed into the side of a nearby house. 

Screams from inside nearby houses let them know that they had not acted quickly enough.  As they ran to help the citizens, inky black shadows appeared, their victims being dragged behind them with unseen hands.  The creatures lunged at the party, cutting through even Ander’s armor with their ghostly touch.  From every house they appeared, surrounding the adventurers and forcing them to work together for survival.  Normal battle tactics were useless against this foe who seemed to move through the normal front-line defenses of Ander and Loutarin.  Namakin had little time to cast spells, and Pontius found getting in range difficult with the misty foes. 

Multiple crashes implied a larger foe in the distance, and the group could see that the common hall was crumbling at the foundation, but its cause was unknown.  Something was under the ground, and it was large.  The shadows moved aside to allow a host of devourers a chance at the group.  These large skeletal creatures held the bodies of the slain within their bloated ribcage, adding a despicable appearance to their deadly abilities.  They were much more resilient that the shadows, and coupled with the fact that many of the group’s resources were already drained, the fight was difficult.  Namakin communicated that he was running out of spells and eventually started using his crossbow as a means of protection, while Loutarin and Ander did the best they could to stem the tide of monsters flowing out of the houses.  Pontius, using the time he was given, was able to make good use of his bow and picked off a few enemies before they ever got close. 

The battle raged on, and the last of the shadows bled into the walls of the closest house.  Two devourer corpses lay at the party’s feet, the bodies of those trapped inside now strewn about or hanging through the creatures’ shattered ribs.  The group was tired, but there would be no rest yet.

Whatever was under the ground was moving their way.

Before there was time to react, the soil in front of them erupted, sending shards of wood and clumps of dirt flying through the air.  A black, scaly worm-like creature reared before them and wasted no time to attack.  Clamping its maw down on the nearest party member, the battle for their lives had started.  The aura of undead coming off of the creature overwhelmed Ander and the mere presence of the thing prompted one of the devourers to stand back up and begin the fight again.  The prospects of defeating the monster were grim, and the adventurers had to muster every last item and power in their arsenal. 

A well placed disintegrate spell by Namakin ended up hurting the night-crawler more than any weapon, but the celebration was short lived as the worm picked the small gnome up and grappled him down.  The mage was swallowed whole by the creature, and was on course to be digested alive by the thing.  Loutarin charged the creature, knowing it was the only chance to save the mage, but slipped on the bloody remains that literally covered the ground.  His feet thrown out from underneath him, the rogue was helpless. 

Pontius tried to gain the attention of the thing by putting as many arrows as he could into it.  The giant beast turned his attention to the ranger, but Loutarin had regained his footing at that time.  His rapier flashed with the black blood of the worm and he unleashed his attacks on the massive foe.  Pain ripped through the beast, and it wasted no time on refocusing its rage back on Loutarin.  With one swift action, the giant maw came down on the rogue, lifting him up, and relieved his body of his head. 

The corpse hit the ground, and the site of their friend’s lifeless body put the remaining three into a rage.  Ander, Pontius and Relak cut the thing down, draining the little energy it had left.  The worm fell, and expelled a gnomish turd, freeing Namakin from the deadly digestive juices that were sure to seal his fate. 

Ander walked over to the cart where, by some amazing miracle, the necromancer crawled in a futile attempt to escape.  His skin was badly burned and life was nothing more than a hope at this point.  The cleric of Tempus had enough this day, and quickly put the blade of his axe clean through the man’s head.  There was a bittersweet satisfaction, replace quickly by the reminder of his friend’s fate. 

Grabbing Loutarin’s remains and sealing them carefully, the party called upon Berimaan.  They could not withstand another attack, and they could not move forward today.  Regardless of the consequences of being ripped from the Ancient Evil’s conscience, it was a better alternative than death.  They would need to rest before they even thought about going back in.  Using the little willpower he had over the hive-mind, Berimaan brought the party back to the Material Plane.  Nothing more than the sound of the autumn wind rustling the dead leaves was heard. 

Victories has prices, but the group wondered how high this one would end up being. 

Session 17 – “Pillars of Light” (Pt. 2)

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.

Session 17 – “Pillars of Light” (Pt. 1)

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

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

CHAPTER ONE - Lathander’s Temple/Berimaan 

Amblin’s footsteps could be heard as he retreated down the temple’s outdoor corridor.  He was off to get some sleep, but not before he instructed the group on their meeting tomorrow with the heads of the Tribunal.  The leading members of each temple were divided, along with their clerics, as to how the adventurers fit into the grand scheme of things.  They had all assembled at Lathander’s temple in Feymore, a large gathering to decide how to proceed with the threats posing their beloved isle.

Half of the priests agreed that the group could not be trusted.  Once before, they had betrayed Lathander’s clergy by siding with Mask and returning Sorrow’s Memory back to the evil deity’s hands.  Unbeknown to them, the “betrayal” was less of an act of defiance, and due more to the fact that they were a young, naive group who was trying to save their good friend Egeus.  The other half of the Tribunal, those who have seen firsthand that the adventurers were able to obtain all 3 pieces of the key to the Acropolis, felt differently.  They argued that this group, despite what they forced into in the past, was the rightful recipient of the map that led to the Acropolis.

After years and years of dedicated research, the clerics were able to recreate the hallowed parchment that, combined with the shards, opened the doors their destination.  Since Mask already had a head start towards the fabled artifact within, the decision had to be made soon whether or not to give the map to the group.  It would be up to Ander, as an ex-cleric of the church, to convince them that it was the only way.

Heading to their respective room located off the heavily-protected courtyard, everyone enjoyed the southern temperatures and calm breeze.  It was a stark contrast to the slow chill enveloping the northern lands where the keep was constructed.  The comforting breeze was interrupted only by the thought of what was going to transpire the next morning, and by the strange man who had requested their audience before they slept.

His name was Berimaan, and he asked for only a few moments of their time before allowing them some rest.  The group agreed, hesitantly, and decided to listen to his plight.  The man introduced himself as a cleric of Lathander, and true to his word, kept it short.  He asked only that the adventurers meet him outside of Burrowshead, and that he had a potential solution to the plague called the Ancient Evil.  He admitted that it was a long shot, but that he could offer the chance only once.  Knowing that they would have a long day, Berimaan asked that they think about it, and to meet him on the southern slope outside of Burrowshead in 6 days.  Bidding them farewell, the adventurers now had even another problem to weigh. 

CHAPTER TWO - Convincing the Tribunal

The sun rose over the temple, promising to be a warm and carefree day.  Carefree, at least, for the residents of Feymore.  Inside the Hall of Kings, the four factions of the Tribunal sat in anticipation of the line of questioning to delivered, as much as the answers they would be provided with.  Over a year since the race to open the gates of the Acropolis began, the priests had prepared for this day, the time when entrance to the mythical structure would be soon upon the lucky (or unfortunate) souls who were picked.  The Iron Acropolis was a place that no one had ever entered, save for the gods themselves – it was, without question, a monumental decision.  Many of the Tribunal believed that the group should be comprised entirely of holy men, given the nature of the task.  That was soon dismissed however, as the Acropolis was a neutral ground representing all alignments, and the Tribunal would have nothing to do with the darker religions. 

Ander stood in the center of the hall which represented a great gladiatorial arena.  In front of him in imposing fashion sat the head cleric and paladin from each faction.  His companions, not fit to reply to the religious inquisitions, sat in the front row of the arena, displayed below the podium where the leader sat.  When the court was drawn to order, a hushed silence broken only by the occasional murmur fluttered on the air.  The questioning began by asking Ander his past, and that of his friends.  It quickly moved on to why he believed that they were the ones who should have this great task bestowed upon them.  Eventually, it progressed into the spiritual aspect and the consequences of failure.

Long into the day went the questioning, and Ander stood fast.  There were breaks for meals and contemplation, and eventually a final recess where the official vote would be had.  The ex-cleric of Lathander had answered all of the inquiries, often falling back on the facts and stating that they had already done what no one else could – they obtained the 3 shards, the key.  He also pointed out that he possessed the ancient barbarian weapon, forged long ago to produce the map by sheer force of battle, rage and anger.  The weapon was creating as the sole means of opening the Acropolis.  Because of the that, the map that the Tribunal has crafted was something the group would eventually have, given the proper time.  Ander closed with a plea toward the greater good of people, hoping that the clerics could see that it was not only gods that were warring here, but that the fate of everything lay in the balance.  It was that final argument that closed the questioning before they voted.

The day passed by, and in the end, the group was awarded the task.  It seemed that more than half of the Tribunal saw something in them, or perhaps they had no other options.  Cogon, head of Lathander’s church, offered them the decision and presented them with the map.  It was, he stated, being given under the strict understanding that the Commands of the Gods be retrieved and delivered back to to the church.  A “penalty of death” suffix seemed not to be necessary, given the certain gravity of the mission.  With the map in hand, the group made the quick decision to travel back to their keep and investigate it carefully.  The race was now on.

Session 16 – “Child Messiahs”

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.

Session 15 – “The Road to Hell Goes Through Burrowshead”

Game Date: October 8th, 2006 (Bethel Park, PA – John’s House)

Experience: 19,143 per player, 16,590 per cohort.

CHAPTER ONE – Investigating Omus and Lathander’s Temple

Summary to be posted soon.

CHAPTER TWO – Burrowshead Is Attacked

Summary to be posted soon.

Session 14 – “Falstrom’s Plunge”

Game Date: October 7th, 2006 (Bethel Park, PA – John’s House)

Experience: 2,900 (Namakin & Loutarin); 2,350 (Pontius & Ander); 2,014 per cohort. Bonus: +100 Namakin

CHAPTER ONE – Following Falstrom’s Path/ Escape Red Ribbon

As the sounds of battle echoed down the corridor and left the party standing in the lower levels of Red Ribbon, there was no choice but to follow Falstrom’s trail deeper into the darkness. They chose their path carefully, knowing that they had expended most of their magic and resources in the past few battles. With Pontius in the lead, the prison hallway came to an end, and allowed the group to survey their choices. To the right, the hallway disappeared into an inky blackness where more sounds of battle could be heard, and to the left, another battle could be heard not far off. The decision was made to go left, simply because a small light had been seen, and it was the only hopeful indication since the adventurers had come into the lower magic-proof level of the prison. “Get those damn holes closed up! There’s more deurgar coming through!” came the cries from the guardsmen. Pontius and Loutarin turned the corner to find more of the insidious dwarves firing crossbows at a badly outnumbered group of human prison guards. Not knowing who was the aggressor, the group entered the battle if for no other reason than to make sure they could pave a path out of the lower levels. It was a fight that should have been an easy one for the seasoned veterans, but they discovered that without magic or much health left, every action had to be carefully taken, every decision made strategically. The swords clashed and arrows flew, but in the end, the adventurers were not able to save the humans, who fell early to the swarm of dark dwarves. The battle was almost over, until one of the prison’s magic-eating creatures came upon them. Disabling their items and abilities, the red swarming mass of anti-magic that served as lower level guard kept the group at bay until they were able to find its weakness. In the end, victory was theirs.The smart decision, it was decided, was to take shelter in one of the abandoned cells for the “night” to regain health and strategy. Through the time spent in lockdown, the group heard sounds of battle and saw more of the floating red guard creatures pass by on watch. They could only assume, judging by the orders being yelled out, that there was a breach through the lower level’s floors into a deurgar mine.

After regaining what was necessary to move on with confidence, Pontius led the party down the same path, only to find a guard’s station that had been ransacked. Inside, there was nothing of interest, but there was evidence that Falstrom has been there, according to the ranger’s tracking ability. With a fresh set of tracks, it did not take the group long to find an empty cell with a loose flagstone in the floor. Upon investigation, a small crawlspace existed underneath the cell. Namakin’s familiar, being the smallest, flew down the space and reported that it ended abruptly, straight out into the Southern Cliffs! It was going to be a challenge, but the small pseudo-dragon confirmed that this is where Falstrom’s tracks led. Did he simply jump off the cliff? Was he even still alive! There was no way that anyone could have possibly survived that fall. There was, however, a small tattered piece of clothing and a torn parchment at the edge of the hole.

Loutarin, investigating the parchment, discovered it was some sort of genealogy chart from the Burrowshead Council of Records. Looking at each other in despair, the group could do nothing but follow this lead and leave the prison behind. While it was discussed to go back into Red Ribbon, everyone agreed Faltrsom had left and only bad things could result from going back in. The only safe place to go over a future strategy would be the Brothers O’Toole. Within moments Loutatin and Namakin teleported the group back the north. No answers presented themselves, and more doors were opened. A good night’s rest would be very welcome.

Session 13 – “The Prison City”

Game Date: August 13th, 2006 (Silver Creek, NY – The Shop)

Experience: 7,500 per player; 6,000 per cohort. Bonus: +300 Namakin

CHAPTER ONE – The Thistled Den / Meeting Relak

Having returned to a less-than-pleasant future, the group spent the night at Falstrom’s abandoned homestead, attempting to gain some plan of attack on the upcoming days. Their plan was delivered to them, however, in the form of a cryptic messenger, supposedly sent by Ghanadar, who had days ago fled the city. The group was ordered to meet the messenger that night at the Thistled Den, a tavern near the Great Hall. They did so, but only to find that Calad Brae, now under the rule of Omus, had become a city under watch. Wards and glyphs peppered every building, and wizard-led patrols scoured the city at every hour, keeping a constant watch over the populous. Large and ominous constructs followed the patrols as well, making the thought of an ambush a little less intriguing. At the Thistled Den, the messenger revealed himself as Kedwin, a friend of Ghanadar. Telling the group that they were expected to meet Amadius and Ghanadar north of the city to devise a plan. The adventurers wasted no time, and thanked Kedwin for his efforts. They would not leave the city unharmed, however, and when a scuffle outside of the tavern drew Ander’s attention, the city Watch gathered as well.What had started as a dispute between a half-ogre and the guardsmen soon turned into a brawl when Loutarin’s father was publicly mocked for his cowardice. A battle ensued, leaving the adventurers wondering if they had truly picked a fight with the best odds. They were circled by the guards, whom them made quick work of, but two patrol wizards and their following constructs made the fight a little more balanced. When all was said and done, everyone but Relak and Pontius stood, the others all having been turned into stone by the constructs’ supernatural abilities. It was only by sheer strength and speed that Relak was able to gather all of the tinier statues and make haste down an alleyway where the constructs could not follow.

The group took shelter in a hidden dojo that Relak had directed them to, gathering their strength and regrouping for another possible attack. The attack never came, but Shen-shao, Relak’s teacher, helped to aid the battered group and heal their afflictions. He told them of an underground movement that was in place to undermine the rule of Omus, but there would more time to explain later. For now, they left the dojo under the cover of night, with the large half-ogre, Relak, adding his strength to the group.

CHAPTER TWO – Reunion with Ghanadar & Amadius / Reunion with Egeus & Valgres

Under the cover of night, the search for Ghanadar and Amadius began. Luckily, with the tools that Namakin’s uncle had provided, coupled with the tracking abilities of the group ranger, the small alcove that the two fugitives were using as a base was easily found. Easily found, but not quietly. During their search, the group had split up, with Pontius and Loutarin coming upon a group of patrolling Watchmen. Apparently, the search for Amadius was still on, and enough noise was made to alert the enemy.

While the adventurers did not yet know that preparations were being made for their attack, a moment of respite was had while Amdius and Ghanadar were reunited with their relatives. Their strength being low, it was agreed to take them back to the Cardinal & Crow so they could be properly healed, but not before they would have to fight their way out. A patrol wizard and his men attacked the holed up group from multiple sides, forcing them to split up before they were entombed. The battle was won with Namakin and Ander protecting the wounded Amdius, while Loutarin, Pontius and Relak fought the mage outside. Quickly after the fight, the party teleported to Ogden, desperately looking for some shelter and rest.

The Cardinal & Crow was one of the few places that had not changed for the worse since the group’s return. It was discovered that Egeus and Valgres has used their ‘past’ knowledge of the thieves den located below the tavern to their advantage; they made a deal with Miksalak that eventually allowed them to muscle their way into owning the bar. Upstairs at the Brothers O’Toole, everyone was able to relax and regroup. Amadius was undergoing healing for the potent affliction he contracted, and a bit of informal conversation broke the tension that had followed them everywhere. For tonight, they were able to ease their bodies and minds.

Egeus brought many things to light over some Firewine, including: the fact that the Pale Commander had arrived in Alaron over six months ago, Marzul had been slain, Mask recovered Sorrow’s Memory, the church of Lathander was divided, and that Falstrom had been imprisoned in the seaside dungeons known as Red Ribbon. Without wasting time, the trip to red Ribbon was organized, while Egeus offered to investigate the church matters, while at the same time trying to gather support from Amadius’ troops, who had left the city and were rumored to be hiding in the northern woods. The night of rest was over quickly, and the next morning, the trip to red Ribbon commenced.

CHAPTER THREE – Entrance Into Red Ribbon

The trip to the prison was uneventful, and no plan was made as to how to actually enter the structure until they stood at the doors. Luckily, a mixture of diplomacy and wit gave them access to one of the wardens as they bluffed their way to ‘visit’ an inmate under the orders of Omus. What was going to have been a straight forward assault into the dungeons now became a carefully planned mission of bluffing and lying their way to Falstrom’s cell.

By using Omus as their ’superior’, the adventurers managed to descend three levels into the prison, once by paying off a guard to kill a prisoner, and the other by finding Falstrom’s cell, only to discover that he had managed an escape through the hollow floor into the lower-most level – a dark and fetid underground place that was used for only the most dangerous and troublesome prisoners.

Using once again the tracking skills of Pontius to shed some light on Falstrom’s tracks, the group came face-to-face with the common duergar guards, as well as the large corpse collectors that rifled through the bodies of the deceased prisoners. It was a grim sight, but the trail of Falstrom was still visible, and after a vicious encounter with a few of the previously mentioned constructs the journey continued: straight into a deurgar ambush.

Large and dangerous fey, let loose by the guardsmen for some unknown reason, brought havoc on the group, causing the underground tunnels to rumble with screams, magical energy and the clash of weapons. While the adventurers were victorious, only two of the large fey had managed to sap a good portion of their resources, leaving Loutarin and Pontius in an uncontrollable rage, Relak on the dungeon floor, and Ander & Namakin with the task of restraining their enchanted comrades from killing everything in sight – including their friends.

As the sounds of battle echoed away, the long walk through Red Ribbon was only just beginning….