UNOMAHA D&D

Isildra’s Journal

15 Silvanus: I tortured the high keeper until he gave up the location of his order’s research notes. In them, I discovered that the Drannor was one of the few artifacts that allowed the Selu’taar to control mythallars directly without a focus crystal. See the below highlighted passage from page 41 of his notes:

History of Use: The symbols on the Ravenmancer’s claw correspond to whims of Kiaransalee and the jeweled gauntlet she bore at the time of her banishment in the divergence. It seems she was, at the time, fond of making examples of errant magic users. She would absorb their spells, convert the energy to negative energy, and use the energy to fuel various necromancy spells.

… I consulted with Mistress Tong at the Pansophical. She is an expert on high Selu’taar runes and she says that the runes inscribed on the gauntlet appear to be most closely affiliated with what today’s magic practitioners use to summon free-willed undead. While Tong was not positive as to the exact nature of the spells it would provide its wielder, she believe the runes allowed the wielder to somehow use the body of a dead magic user as a focus for a specific type of undead creature likely not seen since the time of the calamity.

…

After further investigations into the absorptive capabilities, Ceril has a working hypothesis that the Ravenmancer’s Claw may have been used during the Selu’taar era to control the Mythallars without a focus crystal. This would have given its wielder quite an advantage over other competitors and peers.

As Iben Mastifen from the Cobalt Reserve notes, Mythallars were believed to be large light-emitting crystal balls that were tuned directly to the weave and acted as infinite magical funnels. Several of them appear in various histories. Apparently, they allowed the Selu’taar to create magical items and cast High Magic spells without draining their lifeforce. Iben noted that one of the most historically documented uses of mythallars was the floating city of Xuncaa Neithis, purported to exist on the main land from -7281 C to 42 PC.

If Ceril’s working hypothesis is right, the wielder of the Claw might have been able to negate some of the adverse effects associated with High Magic spells.

17 Auril The pit is almost ready. The Matron will love my plan. I dispatched Zorn to Isna Serin to notify her.

21 Auril – I returned from a scouting run in the temple district tonight to find Zorn, a dead spell weaver I’m not familar with, several driders, and that mewing weakling Sorntar that sought my hand last I was in Isna Serin. What a piss poor excuse for a male. According to two of my other driders that heard commotion and saw the end of the altercation, reinforcements had arrived while I was gone. Sorntar apparently carried a missive from the mistress. They were apparently killed fast by the queen’s forces and stripped of their gear. One of heads was taken – the dead spell weaver – probably for various magics from beyond the veil.

It would seem our presence is known. Best to move up my time table and make for Ust Varatha to meet with the Mistress ASAP. The high keeper is gone, but If I get the claw she will forgive me for losing him. I wonder if she knows already what the high keeper’s notes indicate.

…
I communed with the goddess and it seems that fate has dictated the time is nigh. Sorntar’s failure may be in the undead mother’s plans. My goddess says the release of chaos is nigh and that our pace must quicken.

DM’s log 23rd of Auril – 8th of Raven Queen – Drow Pursuit

The party pursued the drow deep into what appears to be a section of the underdark. A long consistently sized hole bored deep into the ground, at times passing through other diverging chambers leading into different biomes and areas. On the 9th day of travel the party passed through an area with an underground river and various diapson crystal deposits. There they decided to throw a rock at one of the crystal formations. It turned out to be an orange colored formation of diapson. The crystals exploded and alerted a nearby rearguard force of drow that had seemingly been left behind as sentries.

Dispatching the drow, the party took a bit to harvest some of the crystals, gathering some necromancy, abjuration, and evocation crystals. During their harvest, they noticed that all of the crystals were oriented in the same way, pointing away from a central location as if manipulated by unseen magnetic forces. All of the crystals pulse with a slow, but study rhythmn.

Moving onward from the crystal cave, the party traveled another half day or so before reaching a large chamber dominated by a bioluminescent formation that gave light to the large chamber and seemed to fuel the growth of a large underground forest. Tilia, using her spiderclimb abilities, made her way around the sheer rock face, picking up thetrail and tracking the footprints to the west on the other side. There she found a rope bridge spanning the underground river. The footfalls in the area showed heavy traffic, mostly east and westward. Looking westward, Tilia found ladders leading to a lower part of the underground forest. Estimating numbers at least dozens if not more feet had traveled back and forth this way. Tilia found a nearby boat moared on the shore and was able to bring the rest of the party over.

Following the original tracks to the west, the party continued onward for about an hour before coming upon a large dome-shaped chamber with a massive jet-black ziggurat temple. The temple sits in the middle of the chamber with a large beacon of light emerging from the top and entering into a large brightly lit spherical object. Around the temple there seems to be a moat of undead bodies that swim over one another clawing and reaching up in eternal agony for any living that might fall down below.

DM’s Log – Rest, Regrouping, and Regality – 22nd of Auril

22nd of Auril – Part 2 – After arriving back in Dranseri and getting some shopping handled, the party made their way back to the hall of heroes. There, they found that Tilia’s family was sleeping, resting from the exhausting exodus of the night before. Erione mentioned that she would like to go check in with her peers at the Temple of Erathis. She invited the party along, although she said they might be kind of bored waiting for her in the vestibule.

Deciding to accompany her anyway, the Party made its was to the temple district in Dranseri. Outside the gates, they noticed a heightened tension hanging in the air. Increased guard presences and hurriedly moving individuals in the temple district signaled something amiss. As the part ventured forth into the district, they noticed a giant crater near the center of the district.

Upon closer inspection, the party saw that the Temple of Selûne (Falco’s goddess) was collapsed into a 50 ft sinkhole. Speaking to the nearby guard, they learned the temple had been beset by drow and that the vault had been pillaged. The party investigated a bit further and discovered that the timing of the attack was closely correlated to the time of the events in Tyer-Besil.

Continuing on to Erione’s temple, the group waited patiently as she went to inform the ecclesiarchy there of her status. While the party waited, Ari received a message via sending to go and speak with Alura. A second message told her to bring her companions and to prepare for an audience with the Queen and her council. They were to go ASAP to the Sky District and prepare for an audience.

Preparing themselves, the party ventured to the Sky district entrance and were escorted to the Castle Plancert – the ancestral fortification and seat of the ruling government of Arklan. There, they were given time to refresh and prepare before they were led into the Queen’s throne room. The Party was led between two lines of praetorian guard amidst a richly, but not haughtily, adorned room of tapestries and other regalia to a central platform and meeting area. Chairs on either side of the queen were filled with her councilors and children.

In speaking to the queen and her council, the party learned of a drow incursion that had attacked the temple of Selûne from beneath. Crashing it into the ground, they breached the vault and made away with a claw that the drow referred to as “the Myth Drannor” but that the clerics and paladins of Selûne identified as “Kiaransalee’s claw” – an ancient artifact from before the divergence said to have been worn by an ancient dark selderine goddess of the same name. Known as a patron of necromancers and opposer of Selune, her involvement troubled the queen.

The Queen brought the Party up to date of other threats to her Queendom – including the incursion of orcish invasion forces to the north and some sort of undead problem at the Queens gate to the north near the glade. Citing the growing acclaim and trust of Alura, the Queen told the Party “the trust of a Queen is earned” but that Alura’s vouch meant a lot and that she could use their help given the the drow, undead, orcish and Yan-C-Bin problems.

The party decided to help by pursuing the drow and discovering their motives. As a down payment the queen gave the party a chest with 1000 platinum in it.

Later, late at night as the other’s slept, Tilia had a conversation with her family (she can update the group with details if she wishes).

My dearest Teal,

I hope my letter finds you well.

I wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly without more than a letter of goodbye what now seems like a lifetime ago. I was afraid that if I didn’t go then, I would lose the courage to do so at all and I very much needed to go so that I could finally let go of the past. We can only go forward my friend, never back, and even if we could, it would be unwise to do so for every step has brought us to who we are today.

I also wanted to write to let you know that I am doing well.

After leaving I traveled south for a while. I eventually made my way to Emorhin. I stayed there for a while, a chance to get lost in the hustle and bustle of it all. I did some work for the adventurer’s guild there, occasionally working with a few others. But eventually I grew tired of city life and moved on from there too.

I now find myself in a quite town near the coast that is not unlike the Glade. It reminds me of simpler times, not just when I lived in the Glad but before that too. When I worked with the guard, a time before I knew you, we spent much time in such places. I had always enjoyed the good I could do there, helping take care of threats to the town and other less exciting but nevertheless needed tasks to help the people who live there. That’s what I do now. I have done a lot of good here and have started to become fond of the people around me. In the evenings I often go to sit by the shore and listen to the waves of the ocean. It sometimes makes me think of you.

While it is not entirely without its adventures, it is a simple life and I find it suits me. I am happier more days than not and what else can one ask for in life.

I hope you too are finding happiness my dear friend.

Love always,

Wynlynn

Ferryman’s Log, Selected Entries from Tyer-Besil (Auril PC 1222)

16^th Auril. Feel as if my insides are still thawing out. I don’t remember ever being so cold, not even at the deepest depths of the ocean. Tilia and Ari did an excellent job of melting our icy prisons—I shudder to think what would’ve happened if Ari hadn’t dodged the icy blast that froze the rest of us in place!

So that’s how it feels like to be a living statue. I wonder if Jarrod and Aliisza could hear us debating whether to un-petrify them this morning. After my dream about Jarrod/Caedmon last night, I was of course biased in favor of restoring Jarrod; Val argued passionately that we habitually judge by appearances when making such decisions. So strongly did she feel about restoring Aliisza that she revealed an important aspect of herself to us: she is of Tiefling descent!

It all makes sense now: Wynlynn’s overprotectiveness towards Val, Val’s occasional dark moods and reticence about her past. I was moved that Val would risk sharing this aspect of herself to make her point. Had I myself not been mercilessly teased on Talpin for my—um—amphibious appearance? While I had initially argued against restoring the serpentine woman, I now added my voice to Val’s, urging the party to use the other bottle of restoration elixir on the second statue.

It turned out that Aliisza was not petrified but had only assumed a stony appearance to see how we would act. Having ascertained our intent to restore her, she left Val a single scale, asking us to throw it down if we ever wanted a favor from her.

Jarrod we restored using the petrification antidote—it was quite a sight to behold, the noble sculpted stone rapidly receding to reveal warm, elven flesh! Val offered him some ale, which he gulped then gagged, so I offered him some plain ole’ H₂O, at the same time giving him the robes I borrowed from the air cultists. I couldn’t help blushing as I remembered the role in which Jarrod was cast in the theater of my dreams last night. Although he seemed evasive at first, we won Jarrod over and he gave us some details that might help us unravel the mystery surrounding Pantaghion’s father—in particular, his involvement with the Clasp back in Dranseri.

We freed a number of other survivors from the Earth cult—a priestess named Erione, a former cultist, and an aged firbolg whom Tilia recognized from her childhood. After giving Jarrod, Orna, and Jidra some weapons and money to help them make their escape, we descended through a watery passage I discovered to the part of Tyer-Besil where we are now resting. Our attempt to open an iron chest near the lake where we surfaced triggered some kind of magical icy blast—the chill from which we are still recovering.

17^th Auril. A sense of awe, gratitude, and humility fills my soul. I met a dragon for the first time—and one both wise and benevolent! Azurea is the name of this beautiful, sapphire-colored being—I immediately felt a kinship with this fellow denizen of the deep!

[By the by, I must content myself with briefer entries for now: the enchanted paper that Caedmon gave me for journaling—it stains permanently from my watery pen—is running low.]

We’ve had quite a few encounters in the Water Temple though we’ve been here only a day: we fought an icy being and his mephits and dispatched some cultists led by a fishy Arch-Priest. I united Dagon’s Reach with what appears to be one of its missing parts, and the staff seems to have become more alive than ever. I can feel its enhanced vigor pulsing in my hands! A part of me has grown fond of it—sometimes I tickle its tentacles and it responds like a fateful pet. Yet I also feel a sense of revulsion to see its tentacles writhing almost sensuously. And I am troubled by the imagery of tentacles and endless whispering in my dreams. My sleep is not disturbed, and I wake feeling rested, yet I feel as if I am repeating the same lurid dream every night.

Speaking of dreams, Ari recounted a haunting dream sequence that she experienced to retrieve this peculiar dagger called Oblivion’s Point. The boundaries between dreams and reality are truly wearing thin!

19^th Auril. We have, thank Corellon, survived our most difficult battle to date—with some foul, ancient being known as an aboleth. Apparently, the others have been having terrible nightmares as well—since the creature seems to have had telepathic powers—and a love of insinuating itself into others’ most private thoughts and desires—perhaps I was mistaken in blaming Dagon’s Reach for my bad dreams. In any case, my newly augmented staff is serving us well: today I discovered I could use it to manifest giant, shadowy tentacles that proceed to pummel our foes! Can’t complain about its offensive capabilities—even if the staff does insist on featuring in a dream or two, maybe it’s worth it?

Val was badly injured, having sustained some kind of peculiar wasting disease from the aboleth—fortunately Azurea and her allies, grateful for our help in ridding the Water Temple of the aboleth, are able to treat Val’s condition.

I visited the plane of water through the node that the aboleth and its followers had been monopolizing. It felt at once immediately familiar and yet somehow polluted—degraded—there was no life at all, just a gigantic skeleton of what may have been a kraken.

Though she seems kindly disposed towards me, Azurea was not able to tell me more about the whereabouts of my mother. In truth, I had come up with the story of searching for my mother mainly to explain our presence in the temple—before I knew that Azurea and her followers were on the side of good. But as I talked about wanting to seek out the origins of my elemental nature, this desire assumed a more urgent reality. Who was my mother? Was she really a powerful water genie? Was my father still with her, somewhere in the endless seas?

All these questions had occurred to me many, many time as a child but had receded far into the past as I journeyed through a stormy adolescence to adulthood. Up till now, it had seemed enough just to be able to find acceptance for who I had become—to be able to control the abilities that, for better or for worse, I had been gifted with. But the open-ended nature of the Aramenté—coupled with recent developments in my relationship with Caedmon—have made me, well, want more. Perhaps finding my place in this realm requires revisiting the past as well.

DM’s log – Adventures in Tyer-Besil – 17th of Auril to 22nd of Auril

17 of Auril – The party explored the rest of the earthen elements of the complex and swam down to the bottom of a well into the water temple area. They nearly died to a massively trapped chest.

18-19 of Auril – The party discovers and explores the water temple which seems to be devoted to a purified elemental known as the Olyhydra. They also meet and speak to the sapphire dragon named Azurea. She tells them of an ancient aboleth that dwells below and has dominated the minds of the people in the water cult to bend them to its will. The party began delving into the plunging torrents below to investigate the water cult and the elemental water node to try to free as many individuals from servitude as possible. Azurea told the party that individuals without a mark on their heads might be savable through restorative magic.

20 of Auril – The party did battle with the Yunkalakalub the devourer, an ancient aboleth. They managed to slay the creature. In the aftermath they summon the dragon. Azurea was impressed. She went about the task of further investigating the space – finding two hidden egg sacks below that appeared to be developing offspring of Yunkalakalub. Together with the corpse of the aboleth, Azurea began a binding ritual to prevent the aboleth from re-manifesting itself in the plane of water – banishing it instead to the far realms from whence it came. Azurea also granted the party a boon for their impressive work. The party decided to have Erionne’s tongue healed.

Erionne was floored by the kindness and generosity of the party and will likely continue to travel with them as long as they will allow her and as long as they do not deviate significantly from her moralism. The party gathered their strength for a few days of rest and ultimately ended up scrying on Aerisi in their downtime. The vision provided by the narwal horn of seeing, showed Aerisi in the process of casting an extended ritual. She seemed to be near its completion – or at least several days into the process. She was gaunt and clearly exhausted.

21 of Auril – The party made haste to locate and confront Aerisi. They traveled through the howling caves around the elemental air node – finding an enchanted sword buried with a dwarven hero in the process. Continuing onward, they found what appeared to be 30 or so air cultists with pneumonia-like symptoms. Each was coughing up phlegm and in poor medical condition. Most were loosely tied to stalagmites. Onward still, they stealthily approached the northwestern corner of the caves. They located the elemental node of air and surprised Aerisi. Unfortunately, despite several good hits, the party was unable to interrupt Aerisi. Her minions – air elementals, myrmidons, and silent stalkers – managed to keep the party at bay long enough for her to finish at least the core of her incantation. Frustrated by having to improvise the final stages of the ritual, she turned her attention to the party and summoned Ayatayir, the Djinn. All the while the bound air cultists tied up in the chamber began to convulse in unison with the undulation of the air currents and the storm brewing in the air node.

After what seemed like minutes, but was only seconds, the storm condensed into a tornadic tendril that shot its way out of the air node. Some in the party spotted a broken crystaline sphere tied down by heavy golden chains. The sphere was emitting some kind of radiant energy that seemed to impede the tendrils stretching out of it – but not for long. The radiant energy died down and the creature inside – Yan-C-Bin pulled its way out like a caged squid. The air cultists convulsing stopped just as a large eel-like creatures burst from their chests. The eels gathered together in the center of the chamber. Some were burned away by Teal’s flaming sphere, Pantaghion’s moonbeam, and other damage. Still, the sheer number and resilence of the creatures was high. As they gathered, they seemed to form a squirming, shifting, humanoid body. Yan-C-Bin sent a tornadic tendril through the node and into the mouth of the eel-body, seemingly possessing it in some way. This newly formed avatar seemed to exist as a duality between air and eel flesh. The party ran. Ari’s quick thinking and selflessness saved the day as she dimension doored into danger – falling unconicous from the effort, but not before getting the horn to Pantaghion. Pantaghion freed the Djinn – who then began helping the party escape – teleporting Teal (in bird form), Ari, and Pantaghion to a mysterious palace drifting on its own island in the clouds. Yan-C-bin blinked around the room overwhelming and quickly dispatching the stragglers – particularly Falco and Erionne. Seeing Erionne’s holy symbol, Yan-C-Bin said it “has business” with “your goddess” referring to Erathis and then pummeled Erionne who was trying to help falco. Meanwhile, Val, Ragnar, Jerry, and Tilia finished off a retreating Aerisi. Aerisi’s contorted skin began bursting with whatever infused energy Yan-C-Bin had “rewarded” her with. Ragnar got the final killing blow in a 1-2 combo with Val. Ayatayir, at the party’s request, plane shifted back to the howling caves. He found Falco and Erionne severely wounded – touched them and plane shifted back to his airy domain.

22nd of Auril – The party is split – one group is in the plane of air with Ayatayir (the genie), the other focused on escaping the underground ancient city of Tyar Besil. The escape was rapid and tiring. Fighting more tentacled creatures on the way out, Val, Tilia, Ragnar, Jerry, Travis, and Faesys made haste to reach the surface. They passed through the Fane of the Eye – the central nexus chamber that links together the sub-surface level ancient dwarven ruins of Tyer-Besil with the older, more ancient, primal nodes beneath them. While the group with the genie rested easy in his magic mansion, the others made their way, exhausted to the sighing valley. There, a decision was made to reach higher ground – in case of a flood. A large, rotating cloud seemed to sync up with gaps in the starscape above to form a spiral sigil that the party had encountered before.

The prime material group made their way upward to the entrance to the valley. There, they found a pillar of light lightning up the sky to the northwest. It seems a large inferno was joining with the clouds. The light provided an eerie twilight that lit up the dark night. In the distance the party noticed many moving creatures. Some appeared to be the destroyed, but now crawling corpses of dead woodland and plains creatures – burst open in similar way to some creatures seen below the surface. Others appeared to be fleeing flocks of birds, groups of deer, and other beasts instinctually running to the south west. The party, almost entirely exhausted from the hike out of the underground city made camp near the path back to Red Larch. In their second watch, the party noticed an approaching group of humanoids running from a horde of misshapen creatures. The group, turned out to be some of Tilia’s missing family members along with a grouping of other refugees connected with the burning effigy in the hills that the party had learned about during their time in Red Larch.

The party bedded down, Tilia’s mom Miana used some clever stoneshape spells to open up a pit beneath travis’s dome. With some usage of message spells by Ari the next day, the Genie was able to plane shift close enough to the prime material group to reunite the party. He gave a nod to Ari and told her to call him some time later. He then gave a wink to Pantaghion, who noticed a stone in his pocket. With that, the Genie twisted itself into a tornado of air and disappeared (plane shifting elsewhere, presumably back to lawfully reclaim his abode on the plane of air).

Using a newly learned capability by Ari, that she picked up with some downtime in the mansion, the party teleported back to the Tower of Contemplation – the Pansophical headquarters and residence of Grand Arcanist Alura Visoran in the Knowing Circle in Dranseri. Once there, the group quickly made its way to the Grey Market to go shopping, leaving Tilia’s family and the other refugees behind at the tower with Ari, who went to report to Alura’s assistant Zora and provide the cryptic message “Dimetrium to 427e.”

DM’s Log – Adventures in Tyer-Besil – 11th of Auril to 16th of Auril, 1223

11 of Auril – After restoring travis, the party made its way to red larch to investigate the abnormal events described by Martha the Firbolg Druid in Nari Lana. There, the party met a local woman, named Callessa. She asked them to find her red-haired brother Tarinn, who apparently got caught up in some strange business near the feathergale tower. Many in the town suspect cults are involved and they are stealing citizens for nefarious use.

12 of Auril – The party arrives at the feathergale tower and discovers that the local “knights” are not so knightly, but rather disguised oily bird creatures using illusory magic. The party does battle with them, takes over the tower and finds the actual feathergale knights have been killed and stashed away. The tower has been re-dedicated to some kind of primordial known as Yan-C-Bin.

13 of Auril – The party finds the feathergale cultists were investigating an ancient ruin named Tyer-Besil. The party decides to investigate and delves for hundreds of feet down, eventually coming upon the entrance to an ancient dwarven city. There, at the entrance, they meet a kenku child named Lily. She, in her own strange way of communicating, asks the party for help freeing her mom (Gili), Sister (Taure), and Father (Moroko) from the cultists that have enslaved them. The party did battle with a flying wyvern creature, its riders, and some kind of underwater golem.

14 of Auril – The party discovers that the dwarven city is being occupied by cultists. The leader of the air cult, named Aerisi, has set her self up as some kind of high priestess. The party explores the area and ascends to the top of a pyramid where they fought Aerisi, the high priestess of the howling hatred. Travis unwittingly kills Callessa’s brother Tarinn. The party also met Faesys – a green-haired firbolg who is a childhood friend of Tilia. Faesys was always “not very bright” and proves to be throughly indoctrinated. The party also met Ayatayir, an Air Genie appears to be bound to the service of any who wield his horn (currently Aerisi). He offers to help the party in exchange for their promise to set him free. Some in the party agree.

15 of Auril – The party dove deeper into the dwarven ruins, traveling through a worm into “the nexus.” There they fought harpies and several minotaurs before retreating up a winding staircase that ascends next to a obsidian monolith back into ancient dwarven ruins. Their, the party finds another cult devoted to an earthen entity. The party, wearing air cultist robes, quickly gets itself into trouble with the local denizen cultists. The party finds a woman being tortured by cultists (Erionne). Shortly afterwards, they fail to deceive the cultists and end up fighting their leader Marlos. As the party runs from Marlos, a medusa, they do some significant damage before Marlos inadvertently sees her own reflection in the obsidian monolith.

16 of Auril – The party awakes in Marlos’ chamber to the clamber of an earthquake and retreating forces (headed deeper into the earthen elemental node). The party unpetrifies, Jared the “sex worker” – an equisite, but horrified elven man. Apparently Jared works for the clasp (or is connected to them in some way). He was forced to serve Marlos. She had a fond habbit of unpetrifying him, then using him, and re-petrifying him. The last time she used him, he was almost killed. Apparently he is working to save his two daughters Vulwin and Ailluin. He gave the party a key phrase “Reality is nothing but an illusion” – he asked the party if they would go and tell the barkeep at “the bung hole” tavern in Dranseri (the front for the apparent underground clasp facility teal attempted to gain access to).

The party also met and “talked” at length with Erione, the individual who was being tortured the day before. Erione is a halfling priestess of Erathis. Her tongue has been cut out to prevent her from spellcasting. She was sent by Hamon Pazeiros (High priest of Erathis temple) and Ivaran Farthyra (Militant law enforcement division of Erathis) on a divine vision to investigate this area. The vision spoke of a fissure opening up across dranseri and consuming the continent in chaos. Pouring forth from the fissure was raw chaos that caused the governments to fall and the land to fall into a time of death and destruction. Erione was here with others of her temple, but the others were killed by Marlos.

The party also “unpetrified” the statue of Aliisza. She is alluring and desirable and claims to have watched the party. She seems to have a scaly, serpentine form to her and ultimately provides the party with a scale, should they need her help. She doesn’t believe in contracts – but does like helping one another.

DM Log – Bladeoak tomb exploration and travel – 22-25th of Mielikki 1222

22 Mielikki, 1222 – Tilia nearly dies from Mummy rot. She is saved by the quick intervention of the resident healer in the Glade named William.

25 Mielikki, 1222 – After returning to the ancient ruins under the circle of stones, the Party finds that it is a tomb devoted to an ancient elven (Selu’taar) family called the Bladeoaks. In their exploration, the party finds that a succubus, named Iferini, is in residence. After a brief fight, she charms Val and makes her escape.

This area was originally built by the Selu’taar as a tribute to the bladeoak family. The bladeoaks were a family of gaurdians entrusted with protecting some temples marked on the map.

As temple guardians and devotees to the major houses of the Selu’taar, they were each entrusted with a key associated with the family they protected.

The site includes a number of monumental entities including a massive humanoid-looking (empyrean) skeleton and a large dragon skeleton that apparently were related to the lives of those entombed here.

The demon presence appears recent (past few years maybe). They have defiled the once pristine catacombs with various iconography relating to a skull on fire on a mace. The skull has pointed protrusions. Other parts of the tomb have been defaced and there seems to be intense study around the empyrean and the tombs of the bladeoaks All other dead – including the servants of the bladeoaks are not present in their crypts.

The following inscriptions are found

Mylarai Bladeoak

“May Selune’s moonlight always radiate on her countenance”

42027 – 54293 PD (7,544)

Here lies Mylarai Bladeoak, faithful guardian of Primarch Qe’thalas the Keeper of the Crescent and forger of the Glaurachyndaar.

(summary of short story of her life says she was born as one of a set of triplets, she was trained as her sister and brother in martial and ranged weaponry from an early age. As a member of the bladeoak household, her fate was in the protection of the Selu’taar – high mages of the elves. When Qe’thalas’s previous guardian was killed, Mylarai took on the role (at age 972) and stayed in her role for nearly 6500 years before she met an untimely demise on a venture Qe’thalas had sent her on. Although she succeeded in her quest – taking out an empyrean in the process, her wounds proved fatal – as they proved non-responsive to healing magics.)

Mylarai’s tomb has a key that radiates a soft blue glow that resembles moonlight. It is intricately carved with magical runes.

Galladrieth Bladeoak

“May her spirit burn with Corelon’s vigor as it did in life.”

42027 – 44522 PD (2,495)

Here lies Galladrieth Bladeoak, faithful guardian of Primarch Le’thas the Shaper of the Wards of the Silvery Moon and binder of the Grumbar.

(Summary of short story of her life says she was born as a set of triplets, she was trained as her sister and brother in martial and ranged weaponry from an early age. As a member of the bladeoak household, her fate was in the protection of the Selu’taar – high mages of the elves. Assigned to Le’thas at age 472, Galladrieth was the most promosing of her siblings. Her passion and conviction were strong. She died in service to her nation.

Her tomb has a piece of reverberating stone that pulses with a low gutteral sound resembling the sound of shifting stone.

Scanalis Bladeoak

“May he live on through the Weave”

42027 – 49571 PD (12,266)

Here lies Skanalis Bladeoak, faithful guardian of Primarch Tel’thas the right hand of Thalnoth.

(summary of short story of his life says he was born as a set of triplets, he was trained as his sister and brother in martial and ranged weaponry from an early age. As a member of the bladeoak household, his fate was in the protection of the Selu’taar – high mages of the elves. He was apparently the least competent with martial weaponry, but was the most gifted in the ways of magic. The circumstances of his demise – much later than his two siblings and some notes in the story suggest he was part of a large ritual.

His tomb has a small key with a pentagram inscribed in it.

Letter to Caedmon from Red Larch (Auril 11th)

My beloved friend,

Greetings from Red Larch! I apologize in advance for the brevity of this letter—it grows late and my companions intend to set off at daybreak tomorrow, so I must not oversleep! Haha—I’m sure you’re remembering the several (ok, many) times you arrived at my uncle’s house to pick me up, only to find me fast asleep. And in spite of that, how gently you would wake me, how patient and unflustered you were as I rushed to get ready. Truly, it is through such quiet gestures of tenderness, as much as overt expressions of affection, that you won my heart and knit it to yours forever.

This is my second attempt to write—the mosquitos and gnats (yes, imagine, at this time of the year!) where we camped last night made it quite impossible for me to get beyond sharing this happy news: our kind, quirky companion is restored! Yes, Travis is back, magically made whole again by his mentor at the Pansophical, an accomplished arcanist named Allura Vysoren. I know that you distrust the Pansophical’s “will to knowledge,” as you put it, but Travis’s friends there seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. With Allura’s blessings, two of Travis’s colleagues, Ari and Falco, now travel with us; they are both highly competent magic-users and have already proved to be tremendous assets.

Try as I might, it seems I cannot write you a short letter. I miss you so much that my quill can hardly keep up with my overflowing heart! And yet tonight I must be concise. After we leave Red Larch, it may be a while before I can send you a written letter again.

To turn to my main purpose: Caedmon, various experiences in recent months have convinced me that there are larger forces threatening Arklan now. Destructive forces, on a scale hitherto unimaginable, are about to sweep across the land—perhaps they have already begun to do so. I’ve told you about the bizarre weather phenomena we’ve traveled through (mosquitos in Auril!), and you may remember the falling stars and mobilizing orc armies that I’ve mentioned in previous letters. It’s not clear to me whether this threat is political or caused by some kind of extraplanar disturbance, but it’s increasingly apparent that its impact will be widely felt before long. Even the isolated Genasi Village I described to you in my last letter is not exempt from the drastic shifts in weather patterns, and Dranseri itself is on edge. Talking with Allura and her allies has only served to confirm my fears that our entire world could soon be plunged into a state of widespread strife.

Canny and streetwise as you are, none of this is likely to surprise you—the wisdom you distill from talking to people at your different performance venues never ceases to amaze me. But what of this? Even if my presentiments are correct, what could we do? To be honest (not that I’ve ever succeeded in lying to you!), I don’t know. What I do know is this: we would be better off facing this crisis together. For this reason, Caedmon, I beg you: let me come to you, or better yet, unite with me by joining the party of brave friends who’ve accompanied me on my Aramentè thus far.

I can imagine how abrupt, how peculiar my appeal must sound—perhaps even paranoid or hysterical. But if I can count on anyone to believe me, it is you. During my troubled adolescence, when my limited control over my water magic caused all kinds of mishaps that I struggled to explain, you alone never doubted my word (or my sanity). Though it is hard adequately to describe the magnitude of the current problem, I trust your faith in me will not falter now.

Though my heart leaps at the prospect of seeing you again, and hopefully soon, believe me, Caedmon, it brings me no joy to share this grave news. I know how hard you and your fellow-musicians have been working to prepare for this latest series of performances, and hate to disrupt your work—your art—in this manner. You know that I love you too well to cause you such pain without good cause.

I used to think that I would die rather than place you in the dangerous situations in which our party often finds itself (and given the current state of the realm, we will probably face even greater perils in the near future). Now, however, I recognize that nowhere—and no-one—is safe until the destructive forces threatening the land are contained. My greatest fear is that something should happen to you if Emorhin is taken unawares. Admittedly, our being together is no guarantee of your safety, but at least I would have some hope of protecting you.

How you must smile at your little Tealet proposing to guard you against danger—how presumptuous of me! You have been my protector all my life, and I still think of you as the one person who somehow can always make everything better for me. And yet, by some twist of fate, the last two-and-a-half years have thrown me into company and situations that have—perhaps against my own inclinations—compelled me to hone my abilities for battle. For once I find myself in a position to defend those I love, and I mean to make use of it. Of course, I know you are far from helpless and quite capable of taking care of yourself in a fight. But the approaching crisis looms so large and is so fraught with uncertainty that I believe that our best chance of survival lies in weathering the storm—literal and figurative—together.

I don’t pretend to have the answers, Caedmon. I’m scared, and I know my emotions speak as loudly as my reason tonight. But if there were ever a time to err on the side of caution, it is now. At worst, even if there were no way to avert the fate of the realm, we would at least have spent our final days together. But I pray that this is not so, and that by uniting in a time of great need, we might help sustain each other through this crisis.

Of course, we should decide on the best course of action together, so let’s figure out a plan by means of your magical messages. I eagerly await your thoughts on this subject.

Until then, I remain

Affectionately yours,

Teal

Ferryman’s Log, Selected Excerpts (Auril 1222 PC)

9^thAuril. Dranseri. I found a local boatman who was willing to guide Mr. Styx’s boat back to the Glade—Tilia, who accompanied me, whispered to me that his fee (25 gold) was exorbitant, but if that ensures that the boat is safely returned to my former master, it is coin well spent. Though I am no longer a ferryman or lock-keeper, I will continue to use the logbook that I took from the boat to record my thoughts and impressions. With the unsettled life we live, it is so important at least to try to give some structure to our varied and strange experiences! Two years of apprenticing—and what have I to show for it? I suppose I’ve learned to pilot and maintain a boat well enough, besides the basics of operating a lock. Hopefully I’ll have opportunity to use this knowledge again someday—maybe even to relieve Mr. Styx should we ever return to the Glade.

Travis lives! I knew that I had missed our eccentric wooden friend, but even so I was surprised by the sense of relief and gratitude that washed over me when the arcanist Allura Vysoren successfully restored our fallen friend. Happily, Travis seems very much his old self, though his appearance is subtly different and his manner came across as being more assertive. For example, he flatly refused to continue to pay Jerry, the agent hired by Pantaghion’s father to follow our handsome companion.

Our party has agreed to set off tomorrow for the Dessarin Valley—not only do we intend to investigate the cause of the bizarre weather patterns in the vicinity, we also hope to discover some clue as to the whereabouts of Tilia’s native tribe. In addition, Allura is interested in an ancient temple in the vicinity that was supposedly built by dwarves for the Selu’taar. Ari and Falco will accompany us. Whatever doubts I might have about the Pansophical’s motives, our fielder friends are excellent companions. I am very glad that Allura asked them to join our little band. I was a little surprised that Allura was able to spare Travis and the other fielders at this time, given the troubled state of the realm. The reports of orc armies invading from the north are certainly not baseless, and the drastic shifts in the weather seem yet another foreboding portent. My heart races to think of the larger forces that appear to be overtaking us. If the threat to Dranseri is real, surely these disruptive forces will reach Emorhin before long. If anything should happen to Caedmon … no, I mustn’t go there now. But I must persuade him to allow me to join him sooner rather than later. If there is widespread strife, it would be better for us to weather the storm—literal or figurative—together.

10^thAuril. We spent the night at an impressively constructed bridge that spans a bog. Consistent (strange to apply such a word to nature out of joint!) with the peculiar weather phenomena we’ve been observing, I found that the water under the bridge was inexplicably warm and teeming with larvae! Speaking of which, I must curtail my writing tonight: the mosquitoes are insatiable! I probably have half a dozen bites already. Pantaghion surprised us all by singing a tuneful ballad from the bridge this evening. Our paladin friend seems bent on defying expectations—he now rides a martial-looking steed that resembles a unicorn. I thought they were the stuff of myth and legends! But who am I to play the skeptic—a siren’s son no less, if rumor on Talpin is anything to go by. But ugh—I really must stop and take refuge (if any) in my sleeping-bag. Caedmon’s letter must wait till tomorrow—I would do anything for him, but he would surely disapprove of my becoming a blood-sacrifice to these annoying insects!

11^thAuril. Red Larch. So tired after the day’s walking and all the investigating we’ve done since arriving this afternoon. But I must jot down at least a few notes about this momentous day: Val has acquired a pet! On our way to Red Larch, we met some itinerant merchants, one of whom was selling all kinds of little beasts. Val picked out a peculiar creature that reminds me of Captain Flint [Uriah Styx’s cat] in terms of its size and color. But it is no ordinary cat. When you look closer, it has leathery skin and actually has a set of wicked-looking tentacles emerging from its back. Val has named him Ragnar. He has a voracious appetite and has already devoured several mice that his doting guardian bought for him.

One of the townsfolks who works at the Swinging Sword (the local inn where we refreshed ourselves)—a young woman named Callessa—appealed to our group to help her find her missing brother, a red-headed youth named Tarinn. No-one has ever asked us for help before—we’ve accepted a couple of missions for which we were paid—so I was heartened by the response of my friends. Travis was naturally eager to engage her in conversation, and Val and Pantaghion seemed eager to lend her our aid. Pantaghion even flatly refused to take the small sum of gold that Callessa offered to give us in exchange for help. Such generosity—a charming display of old-fashioned chivalry—makes me feel a sort of fond admiration for him, a tenderness usually precluded by his icy reserve. But more seriously: it is at moments like this that I feel most confident that I am on the right path with these friends of mine—that, in accompanying them on their adventures, I might get closer to fulfilling my Aramentè and leave the world better than I found it.

No time for more if I want to dash off a note to the one for whose sake—as much as my own—the Aramentè has come to mean so much! We set off early tomorrow morning for the Vale of Dancing Waters (what a pretty name!) and the Feather Gale Tower, where we hope to find out more about the strange happenings in Red Larch, including Tarinn’s disappearance.

12^thAuril. The Feather Spire. What a harrowing day it has been—imagine our horror when we realized the knights of the spire were, as popular rumors at Red Larch had suggested, bird-like shape-shifters who had completely usurped the place of their gallant predecessors. It was a hard battle, during which Jerry was killed, but luckily our skilled healer was able to restore him. Jerry is a surly character whose motives often seem dominated by avarice, but he has proved himself a helpful and brave member of the party. I am glad that Falco was able to snatch him away from a premature death. Sadly, we were a few months too late to help the poor knights who once inhabited this tower. We found their putrefying remains in one of the tower’s secret chambers: it looked like they had been tortured and the same sigil on the armor of the bird-men branded on their foreheads.

And the horrors of the day have yet to be exhausted, apparently, for Ari and Travis have shaken us all up during their pre-dawn watch …

Finally, a few minutes of quiet—and hopefully a bit more rest before we rise (again). Thanks to Val’s fearlessness and Falco’s powerful dispel magic spell, we succeeded in destroying the sinister statue—of some evil deity of the air—that was whipping the winds into a frenzy.

13^thAuril. Another intense day of fighting as we made our first descent into Tyar-Besil. I am still aching all over, thanks mainly to the blow dealt to me by the golem with its detachable arm. Had we not been submerged, I am sure that the impact would have killed me! Submarine golems and mounted guards on flying wyverns—what will we encounter next! We continue to find people desperately in need of aid—today it was a young kenku named Lily who begged us (as best she could through writing) to help her free her parents and sister from the same organization to which the avian creatures at the tower belonged. For the guards who we fought near the entrance wore armor bearing emblems identical to those we saw on the armor of the bird-men. We have retired to a magical hut conjured by Ari, hoping to rest and recover our strength for the trials that await us in this underground dwarven city.

14^thAuril. We re-entered Tyar-Besil and have survived yet another series of violent encounters with its current inhabitants. Again, I write inside Ari’s magical hut (what a godsend she and Falco have been!) and am so weary that I must resort to brief notes that cannot possibly do justice to the day’s events. We have learned a great deal more about the forces responsible for the meteorological disruptions and murderous deeds in the area—but at a heavy price.

For Tarinn, the youth whom we set out to save, is dead. The bitter truth is that we were the unwitting instruments of his destruction—he was among the acolytes who rallied around Aerisi, self-styled high priestess of an elemental cult that calls itself the Howling Hatred; a fireball unleashed by Travis that ultimately took his life, but really it could have been any one of us. After Aerisi electrocuted several of us with a lightning bolt, everyone was just fighting wildly for their lives. Having grown up with a multitude of cousins, I can only imagine how heartbroken Callessa will be! Looking at Tarinn’s partly charred body, now stripped of his robes to furnish a disguise for one of our party, I was filled with remorse. I muttered what prayers for the dead that I could remember and asked Pantaghion to bless his body, cutting a lock of his bright red hair to give to his sister.

On a happier note, Tilia is reunited with a childhood friend of hers, a firbolg named Faesys! Tilia and I were able to calm him down—he mortally fears Val—and he offered useful information about the elemental cults that appear to have colonized Tyar-Besil as well as tidings of Tilia’s own family. Unfortunately, many of the firbolg—Faesys included—have bought wholeheartedly into the elemental cults’ apocalyptic vision. They seem to be believe that unleashing mass destruction through the power of the elements is the only way to regenerate society. Tilia, usually so composed and dignified, appears deeply affected by this serendipitous meeting. Although she is younger than me in years, I have always looked up to our firbolg friend as a person of superior wisdom and maturity. Today, however, caught utterly by surprise by this figure from her past, Tilia had never seemed so girlish. The mixture of agitation, fear, and hopefulness discernible in her interactions with Faesys was moving, to say the least.

Faesys led us to an air genie named Atayir. The genie was exceedingly civil and gave us each a cup of delicious, steaming tea. Val, Tilia, Pantaghion, and I promised to set him free from Aerisi’s service if we could—he gave us potions of greater healing and bottled breath to help us accomplish our mission.

15^thAuril. Inside the Gorgon’s Chamber. Another exhausting day … I fell asleep before I could jot down a single word in my logbook. Which indicates how utterly worn out I was—under normal circumstances, it would take me a good while to feel relaxed enough to sleep in the boudoir of a creature who, just hours before, was trying to kill us!

Falco and I are on third watch. Corellon knows I could have used a few more hours of rest. Falco looks extremely drowsy, too—our resident healer has had his hands full today with several of our friends sustaining life-threatening injuries, first at the hands of a fire-breathing minotaur and then a pick-wielding gorgon! And that was after we fought off a group of harpies who tried to us turn us into their next meal with a hypnotic song. The gorgon—what a monster!—didn’t even spare little Ragnar—fortunately Val was able to scoop him up before it was too late. Both she and Pantaghion nearly died fighting this latest foe of ours. The rest of us were just able to evade her pick, poisonous hair, and petrifying glare a bit longer than our more martial companions. Corellon knows how it would have ended if Medusa hadn’t accidentally looked at her reflection while pursuing us! Overall, though, considering her fearsome powers, I think we acquitted ourselves tolerably: we were even able to rescue a woman whom Medusa’s minions had been torturing. Our new companion was too exhausted yesterday to even tell us her name, but now she slumbers quite peacefully next to Jerry.

Something strange happened during one of our battles that I must speak to Caedmon about. Or perhaps to Tilia, while waiting for him to reply. It happened when I used Dagon’s Reach to strike one of the peculiar creatures that was attacking us—Tilia says it is a “grell,” basically an oversized brain with a beak and legs. Because I had injured it earlier with the moonbeam spell, the magical quarterstaff actually succeeded dealing a fatal blow to the creature. In the moment that the staff’s tentacles enveloped and destroyed the creature’s grotesque head, I felt a surge of vital energy, as if the staff were sucking away the grell’s life-force. I hate to admit it, but it was an intensely pleasurable sensation—though immediately afterwards I felt a little nauseous and kept hearing a faint whispering at the back of my ear. What is the staff doing to me, and what if wielding it carries some terrible price? Yet Dagon’s Reach has proved so useful in defending myself and our party, that even if it were implicating me in darker forms of magic, would that be a price ultimately worth paying?

I will have to worry about that later … so sleepy. It looks like Falco has already dozed off; I hear him snoring softly. All the more reason why I must. Not. Fall. Asleep. Perhaps it will help if I focus on describing our surroundings …

One would never guess that Madam Medusa’s tastefully appointed chamber was the lair of a savage monster! The room is so luxuriously furnished that it feels like some kind of museum—we are surrounded by all varieties of ornate, beautiful objects. I blush to confess this, but upon entering the room, my eyes were immediately drawn to the nude statue of an elven man standing close to the gorgon’s four-poster bed. It looks as if it were carved with exquisite care—his delicately-muscled form is rendered to perfection, and not a single detail—down to the relief of the smallest vein—has been overlooked. The beauty of the statue’s physical form is not even marred by the slash mark running from his clavicle to his breast, and the overall pathos of the figure is consummated by the poor soul’s expression of abject horror.

Knowing that he was most likely one of Medusa’s victims, I feel almost ashamed of myself for admiring the man as if he were merely some kind of object. And that’s not the only reason. If he was a living man once, then surely to gaze upon him like this is dishonorable, almost as if I were violating him on some level. But what can I do? It would be lying to say that the statue does not provoke desire—and only serves to intensify my hunger for … it is so hard to be physically apart from Caedmon. I miss him so much.

But to return to my descriptive exercise: the expression of the other statue in the room contrasts strikingly with that of man’s. Instead of unadulterated terror, the woman wears an alluring smile. The race of this statue is unclear: at first, I thought she represented a tiefling woman, but upon closer inspection I now discern serpentine aspects—something about her lower half resembles a tail and there is a scaly quality to her feet. Her eyes—they almost seem to be watching us …

Not only did I fall asleep, I overslept. Fortunately, no ill befell us, and my companions didn’t even rebuke me for my irresponsible behavior. Yet my cheeks burn with shame as I write this. Still, it was such a vivid, disturbing dream that I must dash it down while the others discuss which statues (or rather, petrified beings) to revivify.

I was struggling to stay awake by writing in my logbook when I looked up and saw that male statue’s look of horror was gone. Instead, he was smiling serenely and suddenly looked very familiar. “Caedmon?” I gasped.

The stone woman next to him smiled kindly and beckoned me to approach. “You know how to break the spell,” she said in a husky, pleasant voice.

As one often does in dreams, I somehow knew exactly what to do. Without the slightest hesitation, I walked up to the statue of Caedmon. Embracing his naked form, I kissed him passionately on the lips. In an instant, the cool, unyielding stone was throbbing with warmth and life again. I felt Caedmon’s bare arms firmly returning my embrace, drank in the delicious scent of his skin.

A moment of ineffable bliss, but—alas!—it was short-lived. For almost immediately, husky laughter reverberated through the chamber, becoming an incessant, hissing whisper. I held on to my beloved friend for dear life; Caedmon gave me a silent, imploring look, but I could do nothing as I felt his body go limp in my arms. The stone woman was laughing manically, and now I saw that the bottom half of her torso was a mass of writhing tentacles. The tentacles engulfed us, squeezing so tightly that I could barely breathe. Just as I felt I was losing consciousness, I heard Tilia gently calling my name and woke up.

What a nightmare! Is it some kind of omen? But I must stop here—we cannot afford to tarry in the gorgon’s chamber for much longer.