JollyDoc's Jade Regent


Campaign Journals

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Dramatis Personae:

Boris Ushki (goblin rogue): found as an infant during the late unpleasantness involving the Rise of the Runelords, Boris was taken in and raised by the Desnan priestess Koya Mvashti. He has served in her household as a cook ever since

Mazael Cravenlock (aasimar warpriest of Desna): working as a sometime caravan guard, he befriended Koya on his numerous trips through Sandpoint due to their shared religious beliefs

Haroldo Seigfreid (human bloodrager): the blacksheep outcast in a family of sorcerers due to his limited magical ability, he harbors a thus-far unrequited affection for Ameiko Kaijitsu

Yannus Vhiski (human cleric/evangelist of Shelyn): the younger brother of Sandru Vhiski, and adoptive son of Koya, he is recently returned from a military campaign at the World Wound, andi currently pondering his next step

Koman Locke (human slayer/vanguard): another adoptive son of Koya, he was found in with an Ulfen raiding party defeated by Sandpoint guardsmen.

Piotr Satarma (human void-touched sorcerer): son of a wealthy merchant who died at the hands of goblins, he is trying to rebuild his family business, and also courts the affections of Ameiko

Lucian (half-elf wood oracle): a young protege of the elven ranger Shalelu Adrosana, he seeks to prove himself worthy of his teacher's favor


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4715

At the Rusty Dragon tavern in the Varisian town of Sandpoint, several old friends and acquaintances gathered. There were the adopted brothers, Yannus Vhiski and Koman Locke, each recently returned home after several years away fighting wars or pursuing fortune and glory. Their mother's house servant, the goblin Boris, accompanied them, delighted to finally have a day off. The wandering priest and sometime caravan guard Mazael Cravenlock, lounged in one corner, just in from another run with Sandru Vhiski. The young merchant, and, some whispered, sorcerer, Piotr Satarma leaned on the bar, gossiping with Ameiko Kaijitsu, the young Tian woman who owned the tavern. Piotr himself was also just returned to Sandpoint to settle his father's affairs after the old man had finally drank himself to death. Across the room, young Haroldo Seigfreid glared at Piotr. The morose and brooding fellow had long harbored a secret affection for Ameiko, but had never been able to act on it, ashamed of his black-sheep standing among his brothers, all capable sorcerers in their own right. Haroldo hated sorcerers. Lastly, the half-breed elf, Lucian Jones, had wandered into the tavern, wide-eyed and always amazed at what he considered "the big city." He had accompanied the famed huntress Shalelu Adosana from his village of Crying Leaf, tagging along behind his idol when she came to Sandpoint to investigate rumors of increased goblin activity in the Brinestump Marsh.

In fact, goblins were all anyone in Sandpoint could talk about. For the past several weeks, the Licktoad goblins had been attacking caravans on the Lost Coast Road with increasing frequency and boldness. The source of their newfound bravery seemed to be a supply of pyrotechnics they had somehow come into possession of. No one had been killed yet, but several merchants and caravan guards had been injured. The situation had escalated to the point where the mayor had reinstated the bounty on goblin ears, which had been banned several years back after the Duke boys had gone missing in the swamp while trying to earn some extra coin.

Mazael loudly, and perhaps a bit drunkenly, declared that he would be glad to take care of the goblin problem, and would be willing to split the bounty with anyone willing to accompany him. Piotr readily agreed to join him, as his family's business, already almost driven to ruin by his father, could ill-afford any more losses. Haroldo would be damned if he was going to let some jumped-up magician claim all the glory, and curry favor with Ameiko, while he stood by and did nothing. He signed up as well. Lucian raised his hand to volunteer, albeit a little hesitantly. This might be his chance to finally impress Shalelu, but he feared making a fool out of himself in his mentor's eyes, or worse yet, needing her to come and rescue him. Koman nudged Yannus. It had been a long time since the brothers had adventured and explored together, and after all they had seen, a few unruly goblins seemed like just the thing to clear their heads. Yannus agreed, but only on the condition that they try to deal with the situation with as little carnage as possible. Lastly, Boris didn't so much volunteer as assume that it was beyond question that he was coming along. He was a goblin, after all, so who would know more about how to reason with his own kind? Who indeed??

It was at that moment that Ameiko pointed out that no one knew exactly where in the Brinestump the Licktoads actually lived. She suggested that the group consult with Walthus Proudstump, the old halfling hermit who had declared himself the so-called "warden" of the swamp. The new companions thanked her, and set out for the Brinestump, taking the New Fishing Trail down into the valley where the dense growth of the marsh nearly blocked out the sunlight above. Following the trail led them directly to Walthus' home, a sagging, two-story structure that had definitely seen it's better days. A knock on the door brought the halfling to the threshold, but only to peer out through the cracked opening. When Yannus explained why they had come, Walthus hurriedly told them to look for the Licktoads along the Old Fishing Trail, and then slammed the door in their faces. Suspicious, the group knocked again, and this time, when the halfling impatiently opened the door, Boris pushed his way in, and headed towards the kitchen, offering to whip up a quick meal for the haggard-looking warden. Walthus explained that he wasn't fit to receive company, as earlier in the day, he had to run a giant snake off his property, and unfortunately, the viper had bitten him. Yannus, a priest by training, offered his healing services to the halfling. Walthus accepted, but he still seemed nervous, especially when he noticed Mazael heading upstairs. A look of rage came over his face, which began to ripple unnaturally. Within moments, the halfling had transformed into a horrid creature known as a faceless stalker. A pitched battle ensued, but the adventurers had numbers on their side in the cramped quarters of the house, and they managed to bring the monster down in short order. Moments later, Mazael heard a cry of help from upstairs, and when he went to investigate, he found the real Walthus cowering, injured, in a safe room. The halfling explained that the stalker had ambushed him the day before. He had managed to wound the creature, but had barely managed to escape with his life thanks to his trained pet vipers. Walthus was grateful to his saviors, and confirmed that the Licktoads could indeed be found along the Old Fishing Trail. In addition, he offered them his magic cloak as a reward, and even managed to overlook the fact that Boris tried to abscond with his coin purse before the group took their leave.

Following Walthus' directions through the treacherous swamp, the young adventurers had little trouble finding the Licktoad's village, but when they arrived, it looked as if someone had already beaten them there. The small village was enclosed by a rough log palisade, but the gates had been ripped from their hinges and lay on the ground. The buildings were on raised stilts with elevated walkways, but the whole area had an air of abandonment. A pig stye in the center of the village contained a pile of charred bones...goblin by the looks of them. The group set about exploring the buildings, only to find most of them empty. However, as they opened the door to yet another apparently abandoned hovel, they were met by shrill shrieks as a quartet of dogslicer-wielding goblins towards them. One of them carried a narrow tube in his hand. He pulled a cord on the bottom of it, and sent a volley of small, fiery projectiles towards the heroes. The young, inexperienced and mostly untried adventurers had never fought together. Most of them barely knew one another. But as one group of goblins went down, only to be replaced by a another one, and then another and another, pouring out of the surrounding shacks, they slowly but surely came together. Yannus, used to leading and inspiring young, scared soldiers, lifted his voice above the din of the melee, encouraging the others with his inspired words and songs of battle. Koman, trained to seek weaknesses in an enemy's defenses that others would never notice, struck with uncanny precision and accuracy. Mazael laid about him with his falchion, all the while spitting Desnan curses at his foes, while Haroldo cut a swath of carnage through the goblins, his greatsword dripping red, as his eyes burned with blood rage. Piotr hung back and called upon the magic that he had only recently realized was his to command, sending blinding flashes of light at some goblins, while enveloping others in bone-chilling columns of blackness. Lucian moved among his allies with a confidence he wasn't aware he possessed. As the goblins scored telling blows against them, the young oracle summoned the strength of the very trees around him and used that energy to heal the wounds of his new friends. As for Boris...well, the wily goblin did what he was best at: sowed chaos and dissent wherever he went. The Licktoad goblins were confused by his presence among the tall folk, and Boris used that to his advantage, catching them by surprise, and leaving them wide open to the attacks of his comrades.

The last of the goblins fled towards a large lodge in the center of town before being cut down by Koman. Fearing more goblins might await inside. the heroes split up, with Mazael and Boris looping around the back of the building, while the others headed for the double front doors. In the back, Boris noticed a ladder leading up to a blank back wall. Knowing goblins like he did (since he was one), he surmised that a hidden entrance must be there, and the ladder was left there to help the Licktoads remember where it was. He and Mazael quickly climbed up and found the poorly concealed door. Beyond it, they found themselves in a small chamber with no exits. Boris found two more secret doors, and he and the warpriest decided to open them simultaneously. Mazael hissed when his door opened on a shabby throne room, while Boris giggled with glee when his door opened what passed for the goblins' treasure vault. Mazael leaped forward, only to be met by the goblin chief Rendwattle Gutwad and four of his bodyguards. On the other side of the chamber he saw a pair of double doors shudder as his companions smashed their way in. Chaos erupted as Gutwad fired up a skyrocket firework and launched it in the close interior quarters, temporarily blinding, deafening and scorching everyone around him. The chief fought like a caged beast, even managing to knock Mazael unconscious, but the outcome was inevitable, and the young heroes put every last goblin to the sword.

In the aftermath, Boris was first into the treasure room, but Yannus was on his heels, not quite trusting the goblin to be left alone with anything of value. Plus, the priest wanted no part of lopping the ears off of the goblin corpses for the bounty, and he wanted to keep Boris occupied until the butchery was done. The only thing in the treasure room was a beautifully carved wooden chest. It bore scenes of cranes and frogs playing along a beach, and Koman was able to identify it as being of Minkai origin, a provence in the far-east land of Tian Xia. Inside were many foreign coins, and more fireworks, as well as a collection of finely made shuriken, a masterfully wrought pearl hair pin, and a gold-and-ivory fan that depicted a gecko walking amid cherry blossoms. On the back of this fan, however, someone had drawn a crude map which appeared to depict Brinestump Marsh, with the locations of two shipwrecks and a cave highlighted. The companions finished investigating the village, and were able to determine that a violent battle had taken place several days before. In addition to many goblin bodies, they came upon a handful of skeletal remains that appeared to be human. A large, beaten path left the village to the southeast, obviously the path that the invaders had taken. It led inn the same direction that one of the shipwrecks and the cave had been drawn on the map.


2 Abadius, 4715

The following day, the young adventurers returned to Brinestump Marsh, following the crude map in hopes of finding some long-forgotten treasure in the old shipwrecks marked on it. As they made their way through the swamp, however, they were overcome by the distinct feeling that they were being watched. It was Boris who first spotted the figure in the undergrowth, stalking them. At first, it crawled along on all fours, but then it rose up on legs that bent like a dogs. It's skin was pale, and when its mouth opened, it revealed small appendages on either side that looked like small hands.
"It's him!" the goblin screeched. "The Soggy River Monster!"
All of them had heard the legend, of course. Fisherman and farmers had told tales for the past three years of a creature that lurked in the swamp, preying on the unwary. No fewer than five disappearances had been attributed to it during that time.
The creature lunged at them, but Mazael stepped forward to meet its rush head-on. The beast drew back when it saw the size of the group, obviously not anticipating victims that fought back. Koman and Haroldo joined Mazael, and though the monster fought like a demon possessed, the three warriors brought it down quickly, suffering a few small cuts and abrasions for their effort.
Boris quickly sawed the creature's head from its body and held it aloft victoriously. "Momma Koya going to love this in stew tonight!"

It wasn't much further until they came to an overgrown clearing. In the middle was the burned, scorched remains of a merchant vessel. It was little more than a shell, and the companions were disappointed to find it completely devoid of anything of value. As they searched the wreckage, however, they did come upon the ships nameplate: the Kaijitsu Star.

The group backtracked to the Licktoad village, and set out to the southeast, following the trail left by whomever had attacked the goblins before them. After a short time, the path crossed a second, overgrown trail.
"I recognize this," Koman said. "It's called the Witch's Walk. Supposed to lead to Old Megus's shack."
"The old swamp witch?" Yannus asked his brother. "I thought she was just a story to scare kids."
Koman shrugged. "Who knows, but we're already out here, right? Might as well check it out."

The others had no objections. They were all feeling fairly confident in themselves, what with their victory over the Licktoads, and their defeat of the Soggy River Monster. The trail was old, and long disused, but still easy to follow. A sagging one-story shack sat in a clearing at its end, its walls dingy with age and encrusted with lichen and fungus. A partially collapsed shed sat to one side, while small pouches, twisted knots of feathers, and dangling wind chimes made of bones hung from branches and the roof edge alike.
"We knock?" Boris asked apprehensively, eyeing the decrepit building warily.
"Don't look like nobody's home," Mazael scoffed as he kicked one big boot at the door. "After you," he grinned at the goblin.
Boris shook his head emphatically. "No, Boris look for back door," he said as he skittered off around the back of the shack.
The others followed the war priest into the house, with the exception of Koman. The stalker's nerves were on edge. Something didn't seem right. He decided to hang back and wait to see if Boris found anything.

As Boris came around the back of the house, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. What looked like a large rat scurried from under the shack, but as it turned and looked back, it's face looked distinctly...human.
"Crazy rat woman!" Boris shrieked as he chased after the creature. When he turned the far corner, he just saw it dart behind Koman and into the shed.
"It run in shed!" Boris yelled, gesturing frantically. Come! Come!"
He grabbed Koman's arm and dragged the stalker to the back of the shed, where they saw that the wall had mostly collapsed. As the two of them peered into the darkness, they saw four pairs of beady eyes staring back at them. With a shriek, four rats, the size of small dogs, leaped towards them. Boris shrieked as well as he jumped back in surprise, his hands fumbling at his belt, leaving Koman to face the oncoming vermin on his own. Two of the rats leaped at the stalker, sinking their sharp yellow fangs into his thigh and arm, and ripping away chunks of his flesh. Koman went pale as the blood gushed from his wounds, and he staggered away into the woods. By that time, Boris had managed to pull the skyrocket from his belt and ignite it. Still shrieking, he aimed it at the rats and let it fly. It exploded on impact as it struck the first one, setting all four of them alight, and sending them squealing in circles.

Inside the house, the others heard the shouts and explosion coming from the shed, and they all but stumbled over each other rushing back outside.
"There! There!" Boris screamed, hopping up and down and pointing to the roof of the shed. "Crazy rat woman!"
The strange creature had indeed reappeared on the roof, though to Yannus' eyes it looked more like a rat man. It gestured with its all-too-human hands, and out of thin air, a swarm of screeching, biting rats appeared, surrounding Haroldo and Mazael. The two of them began beating at the rats, trying desperately to fight clear, Haroldo retching violently as he struck this way and that.
"Follow Boris!" Boris shouted as he clenched his knife between his teeth and began scaling the sagging wall of the shed. Haroldo, wiping his mouth, quickly grabbed the edge of the roof and hauled himself up, while below, Mazael and Yannus continued to bet off rats both large and small. Piotr added his own magical assistance, sending bolts of energy at the vermin, while Lucian darted among his allies, staunching their bleeding and closing their wounds as quickly as they appeared.
Boris had the rat creature backed to one corner of the roof when Haroldo climbed up, but no sooner had the big man set foot on the rickety structure than it began to sag and creak ominously. A moment later, the entire shed collapsed, dumping all three of them to the ground below. As Haroldo struggled to extricate himself from the rubble, he came face-to-face with the rat creature, and as he locked eyes with it, he felt his heart seized by bone-chilling fear. He stumbled to his feet, turned and ran as fast as he could back towards the house.
Boris, meanwhile, took advantage of the situation to leap at the creature's unprotected back, only to have it suddenly vanish from sight in a flash of light.
"Wait!" Mazael shouted. "It's still here!"
The war priest looked slowly right and left, then closed his eyes as he raised his weapon. With startling speed, he suddenly struck out to his right, and there was a sickening thud and a gout of blood. A moment later, the limp body of the rat creature reappeared on the ground.

A thorough search of the shack revealed the ultimate fate of the swamp witch when her misshapen and malformed remains were discovered in her makeshift laboratory, a victim of her own dark alchemy. Piotr, after examining the remains of the rat creature, identified it as a ratling, and deduced that it must have been the witch's familiar. The group was rewarded for their efforts when they found a hidden cache of magic scrolls tucked away in the wall, as well as a detailed map of the entirety of Brinestump Marsh. The cave on this map was clearly marked with a warning sigil indicating danger. It was only as they prepared to leave the shack that the companions realized that Koman was still missing...

They searched the surrounding swamp for hours, finding only a blood trail heading back in the general direction of Sandpoint. They hurried back through the marsh as quickly as they could, arriving back in town at sundown. Yannus rushed to the home that he and Koman had been sharing with their adoptive mother, Koya, and there he found his brother, bedridden and pale with the old priestess tending his wounds. Koya turned and looked at him disapprovingly as he entered.
"I thought you were going to watch out for him," she said reprovingly. "You know he was never the strong one."
"I'm sorry, Mother," the young cleric said, his eyes downcast. "It all happened so fast."
"This is not a game you're playing," Koya said. "You were a soldier. You fought in battles. You know what life and death means. Your brother does not. His ideas of adventure are naive."
"Yes, Mother," Yannus nodded. "I will be more careful in the future."
At that moment, Boris burst in, waving the map they'd found about wildly.
Look what Boris bring you, Mama Koya!" the goblin shouted. "Boris know you like pretty maps!"
"Always the good boy," Koya smiled approvingly as she patted Boris's cheek.

Haroldo walked into the Rusty Dragon, and his eyes immediately fell upon Piotr chatting chummily with Ameiko at the bar.
"Did you hear of our latest adventure?" he asked the Tian woman as he walked up and loomed over the sorcerer. "I saved the goblin and Mazael from certain death."
Ameiko glanced sideways at Piotr and gave a little smirk.
"That's not quite the way I heard it," she chuckled.
Haroldo's eyes grew dark. He decided he was starting to hate Piotr.

On the other side of the bar, Lucian sat with Shalelu, filling her in on events fro that day, and of their encounter with the goblins the day before. When he'd finished his tale, he reached in his pack and pulled out a small bow, masterfully crafted.
"It belonged to Chief Gutwad," he said as he presented it to the elven ranger.
Shalelu smiled in appreciation.
"You've done well for yourself," she said. "I've always said that there was more to you than meets the eye. I look for great things from you in the future."

The following morning, with Koman fully recovered from his wounds, the companions decided to continue their exploration of Brinestump, starting with the second shipwreck. They found it easily enough, right where it was marked on both maps they'd discovered. It was only slightly in better condition than the previous wreck, it's hull split down the middle as it lay on its side, half sunken in the muck. As they began to explore, however, an odd rattling sound reached their ears from inside the ship's hold. Suddenly, four figures shuffled out of the gloom. They were dressed in odd, laminate armor, and they bore strange, curved short blades, rusted and pitted. It was only once they'd emerged fully into the sunlight that it became obvious that they were no longer among the living. There was no flesh remaining on their bones, and skulls grinned mindlessly from beneath flared helms.
Though taken aback, the young heroes did not hesitate. A few short days before, they had been relative strangers to one another, but now they fought as one, their familiarity with each other's tactics showing through. In short order, they had hacked the skeletal warriors to pieces, and stood victorious once again. It was then that they noticed the nameplate of the wrecked hulk upon which they stood: the Kaijitsu Blossom...


Remembering your great story hours from over at Enworld, I am very glad to see you back posting. Lovin' the goblin PC and lookin' forward to the next entry!


Thanks! It's good to be back after a long hiatus. We are actually alreayd through Brinewall, and into Frozen Shadows, so I have some back posts already prepared that I will be posting soon.


Jade Regent Story Hour

4 Abadius, 4715

The last stop on the map of Brinstump Marsh was the mysterious cave marked by both the goblins and the old witch Megus. It wasn't difficult to find. A fifty-foot high cliff rose along the marsh's southern border, its face a thick tangle of jutting rocks and bright green vines and nettles. A curtain of those thick vines partially concealed the cave opening at the base of the cliff. Within, a low-ceilinged tunnel stretched away into darkness, a small stream running along one side. It twisted and turned for a ways before opening into a small chamber. In the center of the chamber a hairy red-backed spider the size of a pony crouched, feeding on some sort of large lizard. As it turned towards the intruders, Piotr sent a flash of bright light at its eyes, momentarily dazzling it. Yannus quickly stepped in and drove his glaive through its abdomen, pinning it to the ground while Lucian bludgeoned it to death with a heavy cudgel.

Further along, Mazael caught a glimmer of light coming from a side passage. When he glanced inside, he saw that the source of the flicker was a cluster of glittering crystals that protruded from a small island surrounded by a pool of shallow, brackish water. Intrigued, the war priest waded out into the pool towards the crystals. He'd gone no more than three paces, however, when something struck his leg...hard. Then his leg began to burn, and he felt something tighten around it, like a constricting snake. When he looked down, however, he saw a gelatinous, translucent mass clinging to his lower leg. He didn't let panic seize him. He closed his eyes and focused, murmuring a brief prayer to Desna. A moment later, he was free, his leg slipping free as easily as if it had been greased. He backed quickly towards the tunnel, his blood swirling in the water behind him. As he left the pool, Haroldo charged passed him, his eyes filled with rage. As the ooze creature reared up out of the pool to strike at him, he chopped at it with his great sword. It recoiled, but then struck again, seizing him in its grasp. A moment later, he heard Piotr's annoying chanting from behind him, and from out of thin air, a hail of small, black stones rained down upon the ooze, turning the air and water around it bone-numbingly cold. The creature slipped silently back into the water and did not reemerge.

The winding tunnel finally emerged in a large cavern, the stream running along one side. A half-dozen skeletons, clad in the same foreign armor as the ones at the wreck of the Kaijitsu Blossom, lay scattered about the floor, unmoving. Koman immediately ran to the nearest one and brought his morningstar down on its skull, smashing it. At that moment, the other skeletons began to move, rattling to their feet. Two more rose up out of the stream and began lumbering forward.
"They're going to box us in!" Haroldo shouted as tried to charge through the oncoming horde. He found himself instantly surrounded, and though he raged and lay about him with his blade like a dervish, the undead horrors clawed and raked at him with their filthy nails. Mazael and Koman rushed to his aid, while Yannus stood behind them, stabbing over their shoulders with his glaive. Piotr stood back, focusing his magic on disrupting the dark energy animating the corpses, while Lucian alternated between swinging his cudgel and using the minor magics granted to him by Desna to heal his companions' more grievous injuries. Finally, the last of the skeletons fell and did not rise again, leaving the young heroes panting to catch their breath, and bleeding from multiple wounds. Yannus and Lucian bound them and tended them where they could.

On the far side of the cavern, a single, narrow passage exited. It was short and led to a small, cramped chamber. As the light from Yannus's glaive showed dimly in the far corners, the companions saw a dark alcove on the opposite side. In it there was a large chest, and seated upon it was a man, silent and unmoving. As the group cautiously approached, he rose his feet, the sword he'd been cradling on his lap know naked in his hand. He was dressed in the same armor as the skeletons, though his appeared in better condition, and he wore a large, flared helmet on his head. It was only when he'd stepped into the light that his skull-like visage made it clear that he was no longer among the living, though two pinpoints of light gleamed from his hollow eye sockets. His gaze fell upon the hulking form of Haroldo, and he nodded. Then he spoke, strange-sounding words rasping from his lipless mouth.
"He's speaking Tien," Piotr whispered. "Ameiko has been teaching me the language."
Haroldo glared at the sorcerer. "So what is he saying, smart boy?"
"He's challenging you," Piotr replied with a slight smile. "You want me to use my magic on him?"
Haroldo snarled in response, and turned towards the skeletal champion, his eyes blazing as he raised his own sword. The walking corpse met his charge, steel ringing on steel, and it slipped its curved blade beneath Haroldo's and slashed the blood rager across the abdomen. Haroldo grunted, but did not falter. He swung his huge sword like a battering ram, knocking the creature to one side. Then Lucian and Koman were by his side, moving to flank the skeleton. Though it moved stiffly, it was obvious that, whatever the fiend was now, it had been a skilled warrior when it was alive. It parried and countered the blows of three warriors, giving as good as it got. The three companions eventually overwhelmed it through sheer force and numbers, and when Lucian's cudgel finally cracked its skull, it fell silently to the ground, unmoving.

The dead warrior's blade was a thing of beauty. It was etched with the images of seven shrikes perched on a coiling branch that ran the length of the blade, but the hilt and pommel were loose, and twisted in one's grip. The chest that he had been seated on was carved rosewood. Inside, the interior was velvet-lined and contained many slots. Most were empty, but several still held wondrous treasures, including 10 delicate flasks containing multi-colored elixirs, a ring carved from ivory, a slender wand fashioned from lustrous teak wood, a beautifully wrought chain shirt, a curved short-bladed sword forged from cold iron, and many more of the fireworks similar to what the heroes had taken from the Licktoad goblins.

The companions loaded up their booty and headed home to Sandpoint to tell their tale and bask in the glory of their adventure. Ameiko was specially interested in the artifacts they had recovered, and offered to buy all of them for her collection. Piotr told her of the battle with undead warriors in her native tongue of Tien, which made her laugh in delight. Haroldo, not to be overshadowed, interjected how the skeletal champion had singled him out for individual combat, and this time, Mazael was there to back up his story, grinning mischievously at Piotr as he did so.
After that, the companions settled back into their normal lives, their adventures now a fond and fading memory. That is, until two days later when each of them found themselves mysteriously summoned to the Rusty Dragon by Ameiko. When they had all gathered, she reached under the bar and pulled out the carved sword they had retrieved from the undead warrior. The hilt had been repaired, but the pommel had been removed. Ameiko reached inside and pulled out a small rolled parchment.
"The smith found that the hilt was hollow while he was repairing it," she said. "This was inside."
She unrolled it and began to read.

"My son, my heir. You know now that I have kept secrets from you. You were always a perceptive son, and while you may not understand my reasons for secrecy, I hope that you will realize it was necessary. Know that I was not angry with you for opening the warding box-I was angry with myself for withholding the truth from you and forcing you to seek out what I should have given to you. The words I spoke to you were from anger with myself and it shames me to think of them now. I write this note as an apology, and to beg you to leave these secrets to history.
The next few days will be the most important I have faced in many years. If our family's enemies have, as I hope, forgotten us, I shall reunite with you and your wife, and your mother and I shall reveal the truth to you. But if they still seek the contents of the warding box, I fear that I may not speak to you again. The box holds our family's greatest treasure, so I have returned it to Kortun's care, and it shall remain hidden in the secret third vaults under Brinewall Castle-obscured from our enemies, I hope and pray. I will not grant our foes the satisfaction of killing me themselves-if it comes to it, let my death, by my own hand, be my final act to protect you, so that our enemies believe our line ended.
I have instructed Tsutamu to keep this letter from you, delivering it to you only if I fail to return as I hope to. If I can, I will reveal all to you myself. If I cannot, this final missive from a father to a son must suffice as an apology in place of an explanation, and you must destroy this letter, flee to the south, and never return to Brinewall. If our enemies find what I have hidden, there will be nothing here for you. If they do not, they will lie in wait forever for your return.
I hope to see you again soon, my son. But my heart tells me I will not. I am sorry to have failed you. But I am proud of you, and I know you will survive this old man's shame. You are strong and you must remain so. For if you are reading this and I am gone, know that our enemies will never stop searching for us, and that is why I cannot reveal the truth to you until I know there is no chance of them finding us again."
Rokuro Kaijitsu
Sunday, 29 Desnus, 4687

"Who is Rokuro?" Piotr asked when she'd finished.
"He is...was," Ameiko corrected, "my grandfather. Which means this letter was intended for my father, Lonjiku. My father and I...we really never had the best relationship. We didn't talk a lot, so I don't know much about his life in Minkai before the family came south. I did some research after I first got the note. The town of Brinewall lies about 500 miles north of here. It was mysteriously wiped out 28 years ago...the day after this note was written, in fact. The captain of the guard there was a man named Kortun, and Tsutamu was my grandfather's personal bodyguard, a samurai warrior. I guess, maybe that was him that you guys fought in the caves. It's starting to make sense now, the two shipwrecks in the swamp, the undead soldiers, the fireworks. Only, it doesn't really. What was my family doing in Brinewall in the first place? Why did they flee? What is this secret my grandfather was talking about? You know, I feel bad about saying this, but I'm actually kind of excited! A mystery involving my family? The chance to explore a ghost town and an abandoned castle? I think I'm feeling a road trip in my near future. Sandru has been talking about making another caravan run north, and I know Koya would jump at the chance to go on the road like her mother used to. I already talked to Shalelu about it, and she has agreed to come along. What about you lot? You up for a little more adventure??

As it turned out, they were. None of the young heroes had any urgent ties keeping them in Sandpoint. In fact, for Yannus and Koman, it was going to be like a family vacation, traveling with their brother Sandru, and their mother Koya. Piotr was thrilled at the chance to spend a bit more quality time with Ameiko, and Haroldo wasn't about to let him take advantage of it. Lucian was overjoyed to be able to actually adventure with his mentor, Shalelu, but he tried not to let it show too much, for fear of being thought overeager. For Mazael, if there was money to be made in the service of Desna, that was all the excuse he needed. And finally, Boris was not to be denied. He immediately volunteered to be the cook for the caravan, much to the dismay of the other travelers.

Sandru's caravan consisted of a covered wagon for passengers, a supply/cargo wagon, and a fortune teller's wagon, which Koya would use. Ameiko put up funds for supplies and further improvements, and the company used the money to purchase another covered, and another supply wagon, and to reinforce all of the transports. Sandru would be driving the lead wagon, and he hired four local brothers, Dale, Jeff, Bobby and Mario, to drive the others. He also convinced their sisters, Rachel, Paula and Julia to come along as additional cooks, despite much grumbling and cursing by Boris. Haroldo would serve as a guard for the caravan, while Mazael, Lucian and Shalelu would scout the terrain ahead, and forage for food. Koman volunteered to ride up front with Sandru and act as a guide to navigate the road. Ameiko and Yannus would act as healers for the troupe, in the event of injury or illness, and Piotr offered his merchant experience to help with trading in any towns they passed.

Within two days, the caravan was outfitted and ready to travel. The pulled out of Sandpoint with little fanfare, but much excitement and anticipation. Those feelings were quickly tempered with a healthy dose of reality when, not 20 miles out from the town, still on the heavily travelled Lost Coast Road, the train was set upon by a band of marauding ogres, who just happened to stumble out of the woods as the caravan was passing. The brutes descended on the company in a disorganized mob, but what they lacked in tactics, they made up for in sheer strength ferocity. The companions were not without their own resources, however, and they came together like a well-oiled machine, at first driving the ogres back, and then finally slaying them to the last. The caravan had taken heavy damage, nonetheless, and they were forced to stop and spend two days encamped while Sandru effected repairs. This produced some unrest among the hired hands, but when the train finally set out again, spirits lifted. After that they made good time, with two weeks passing with no further hardship. They travelled through the towns of Galduria, Wolf's End and Rodric's Cove along the way, with Piotr making good on his boast to wrangle them some good trade deals. Rodric's Cove would be the last settlement they would encounter before Brinewall


22 Abadius, 4715

The caravan was a week out from Rodric's Cove before it ran into it's next spot of trouble. This time it was bandits. A group of them swept out of large copse of trees, but the scouts, Shalelu and Lucian, spotted the ambush and had time to warn the others. The company was ready for the highway men when they struck. The battle was fierce and swift. The bandits were soundly beaten back and driven away, but the caravan was again forced to stop for several days to make repairs. It was during this time that Yannus thought it might be a good idea to have his brother Sandru begin instructing him in the art of carpentry and being a wainwright.

After Rodric's Cove, Sandru elected to take the caravan along an old track that skirted the southern Stony Mountains, avoiding the lawless city of Riddleport altogether. The track wound up into the Velashu Uplands, following the river northwest to a low pass in the mountains, and then due north into the Nolands. Finally, the morning arrived when the wagons passed over an old stone bridge, and came to an overgrown trail that led into the woods due east. An old signpost there read: To Brinewall. It was at that point that Ameiko fell from the wagon seat where she was riding, and landed unmoving on the ground. Haroldo was the first one to her side, quickly followed by Koya.
"What happened?" the old woman asked.
Haroldo shook his head. "She wasn't looking well this morning. Pale and quiet. I just thought it was something she ate. Is she dead??"
Koya shook her head. "No, but she is in a deep coma. This cannot be a coincidence. The moment we near Brinewall, where some legacy of her family is said to remain, and she suffers this? There must be some link"
"Well," Sandru said, "the wagons won't be able to navigate that trail. It's too overgrown. Yannus, I suggest you, Koman and your crew head for Brinewall. It can't be more than three miles further on. I'll stay with the wagons."
"And I will watch over Ameiko," Koya said.
"Then I will accompany you," Shalelu said to Yannus as she shouldered her gear.

Sandru was correct in his assessment, and it was little more than a three mile hike along the Steam River before the company reached the ruins of Brinewall. The first structure they saw was a stone lighthouse, now little more than an empty shell, its roof caved in some time ago. A quick search turned up a partially crushed strongbox that still contained a scattering of gold coins, as well as a rusty iron key. When they exited the lighthouse, they could see down the hill to the town proper, as well as the ruins of the docks. However, there appeared to be a ship moored at one of the two piers. It appeared relatively new, but upon closer inspection, it could be seen to be partially destroyed and half-sunken.
"That's a longship," Koman announced. "From the Linnorm Kingdoms. Looks like the raiders found this place before we did."

The companions made their way down the hill and into the town proper, heading towards the docks. Most of the buildings they passed were burned out or mostly collapsed, though one that they saw bore several architectural designs similar to those of the Sandpoint glassworks owned by the Kaijitsu family. When they reached the docks, they could see that the longship had suffered tremendous damage in the form of tremendous claw marks and what appeared to be scorch marks. Not far away, lying half in the water along the beach of the lagoon, was the carcass of some sort of large creature. Closer inspection showed it to be a green scaled reptile the size of a horse, with finned, winglike arms and a draconic visage. It bore the marks of several violent strikes with an edged weapon. If this was the creature that had attacked the ship, then the raiders had apparently given as well as they'd got. Koman knelt down to examine the mud on the river bank.
"I see one set of boot tracks leading away," he said. "There was at least one survivor."
"Beware the water!" Shalelu suddenly shouted, pointing towards the lagoon.
Crawling out of the water were a quartet of creatures that resembled a cross between giant lobsters and eels. They rushed towards the companions to defend their meal, claws snapping in the air as they came. Before the party could react, the reefclaws were among them, grabbing onto legs and arms with their serrated appendages and holding tight. It didn't take the group long to recover, however, and with Shalelu's deft support with her bow, they made quick work of the scavengers. Boris quickly went to work on their carcasses with his butcher knife.
"Caravan running low on provisions," he said. "Tonight we eat surf and turf!"

The party continued to pick their way through the ruined town, and eventually found themselves in front of the completely destroyed remains of a large church. The symbol on the lintel could still be made out as that of Desna. Beyond the church was a cemetery, guarded by a set of iron gates, flanked by a pair of statues carved in the likeness of a beautiful woman with butterfly wings. The grounds of the boneyard were unusually well kept, the grave markers clean and weeded. A single stone crypt stood on a small hill at one side, bearing the name of Admiral Mercatio Kiameleu, the founder of Brinewall. What appeared to be a gravestone set aside from the others, turned out to be a well-maintained shrine dedicated to Desna. Koman and Mazael, both followers of the Lady of Travels, made their obeisances before the shrine, but of the mysterious caretaker, there was no sign.

Finally, the heroes turned their attention to the keep that overlooked the ruined town...Brinewall Castle. It was a walled structure that appeared to be at least two stories, with a taller tower on one side. There was no movement upon the battlements, and the large iron portals of the gatehouse stood closed. The group approached cautiously, noting the numerous arrow slits that looked out like dark, staring eyes. Haroldo carefully boosted Boris up on his shoulders so the goblin could peer inside. The interior of the gatehouse was dim but Boris's eyes quickly adjusted. The floor was packed dirt and numerous wooden support beams rose to the stone ceiling above. Another pair of rusted iron doors opened to the interior of the keep on the opposite side of the room. Lying about the room were four odd-looking individuals. The looked roughly human-sized, but they were covered in black feathers and heads like large ravens. They all looked to be sleeping.
"Bird men," Boris whispered as he motioned for Haroldo to lower him back down. "Sleepy bird men. Boris think he can squeeze through arrow slit. Sneak very quiet and unlock gate. Good plan, Boris think."
The others couldn't argue that the little goblin could be very unobtrusive when he wanted to be. Haroldo boosted him again while the others readied themselves in front of the gates. Slowly, Boris wedged himself into the narrow opening and slipped inside the gatehouse, then lowered himself quietly to the floor. He began tiptoeing across the room towards the exterior doors, where a large lever served as the locking mechanism. He gripped the lever and pulled it, and to his horror, it made a rusty, squeaking noise as it lowered. One of the bird men stirred and opened its beady eyes. Quickly, Boris shoved the door open, and his friends darted inside to stand over the bird creatures, weapons ready. Haroldo and Koman put their fingers to their mouths, warning the creatures to be quiet. Immediately, one of them began squawking raucously. A bowstring twanged, and a green fletched arrow sprouted out of its shoulder.
"These are dire corbies," Shalelu snapped. "They are evil, murderous creatures, and your mercy is wasted on them!"
At that moment, the dire corbies began lurching to their feet, reaching for the heroes with filthy, sharpened talons. Chaos erupted inside the gatehouse. The corbies fought like fanatics, screeching and slashing despite suffering grievous wounds. They fought past the point when lesser creatures would have succumbed, until they finally dropped one by one.
"The language they were speaking," Lucian huffed as he struggled to catch his breath, "it was Aklo. They spoke of their master, and how he would destroy us all."

A pair of ladders on opposites sides of the room led to trap doors in the ceiling of the gatehouse. Koman and Boris quickly scrambled up them to see what the raucous shrieking of the dire corbies had alerted. When they emerged onto the roof, however, they found another trio of the corbies waiting for them. They began squawking loudly, and their cries were answered from the far side of the courtyard. There, on another battlement, three more corbies were readying a catapult.
"Down!" Koman shouted as he lunged for the nearest corby.
Boris thought his warning was unnecessary, since the little goblin couldn't even see over the parapet. Still, he ducked low and plunged both of his blades into the thick leg of an oncoming corby. From below, he could hear his friends rapidly ascending the ladders. Just as Haroldo and Mazael reached the roof, the crack of the catapult shattered the air. Unfortunately for the dire corbies manning it, the siege weapon was old and in disrepair. The throwing arm completed obliterated the base as it slammed forward, knocking the bird men to the ground and sending its boulder sailing harmlessly into the woods beyond the wall. The three corbies quickly climbed to their feet and began quickly running along the battlements to join their comrades on the gatehouse roof.

By that time, all of the companions, save for Yannus, had reached the rooftop and engaged the dire corbies. For his part, Yannus fished a flask out of his pack, uncorked it, and quickly downed the contents. He grimaced as his muscles began to spasm and stretch, his bones elongating. In a matter of moments, he had grown to twice his size, and he pushed open the inner doors leading to the courtyard. He stepped outside, his head now even with the parapets, and moved to try and intercept the oncoming corbies, using the now over twenty-foot reach that his glaive gave him. However, as he reached the middle of the courtyard, the doors to a stable suddenly flew open. Standing there was a large, hairy spider the size of a pony, and next to it was an emaciated creature that looked like a cross between a person and an arachnid. It gestured, and the spider scuttled across the courtyard towards Yannus, but when it was still several yards away, the giant evangelist impaled it with his polearm. The arachnoid creature, and ettercap, screeched inhumanly and loped forward on all fours, stopping just outside the reach of Yannus' glaive. From there, it began spinning fine silk from a spinneret on its abdomen into a web net, which it promptly prepared to hurl towards the priest.

Meanwhile, back on the roof, the battle careened from one side to the other, but the dire corbies were rapidly losing ground. The last one went down just before the other three reinforcements rounded the final corner on the battlements, only to be met by a hail of arrows from Shalelu, and Mazael and Haroldo standing shoulder to shoulder. Though the corbies tried to break through, they were beaten back and overwhelmed.
"Little help!" a call came from below.
Shalelu turned and saw the ettercap advancing on Yannus, tossing net after net of sticky webbing at him. She drew her bowstring back to her ear, sighted, and loosed, burying a shaft to the fletches in the creature's neck.

The courtyard was quiet. There seemed to be no further answer to the warning cries of the dire corbies, nor to the sounds of combat. The heroes quickly made their way down to the ground and joined Yannus, and then they all hurriedly crossed the open yard to the keep itself. The front doors stood closed, but that way seemed to obvious. They circled around to one side, and there found a side door that was unlocked. As quietly as possible, Boris eased it open. Beyond seemed to be the ruined remains of some sort of barracks, but all the bunks had been piled into the middle to make a large nest. No sooner had the daylight from outside illuminated the chamber, than a hissing sound came from the nest. Two large reptiles, lizards the size of crocodiles, lumbered out of the debris and rushed forward. Haroldo pushed Boris aside as the first one lunged, and the big warrior swung his sword down and neatly decapitated it. Shalelu darted in behind him, but the second lizard seized her leg and hung on, shaking her back and forth. As she struggled to break free, Yannus came to her side and jabbed down with his glaive, severing the lizard's spine, causing it to go limp.


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2 Calistril, 4715

A single door on the far side of the ruined barracks led deeper into the keep, but no sooner had Lucian pushed it open, than a horrendous stench washed into the room. He immediately felt a wave of nausea, and from the sound of the retching coming from behind him, his companions were succumbing to the smell as well. Through watery eyes, he saw four figures advancing out of the adjacent room towards him. They stood on two legs, but their skin was more like reptile hide. Their heads were reptilian as well, and a large red crest ran from their scalps down to a long tail. They brandished heavy wooden clubs in their clawed hands, and they hissed angrily as they moved in.
"Troglodytes!" Shalelu shouted in warning, the only one of the group who wasn't gagging.
She quickly loosed a volley of arrows at the first trog, dropping it with three direct hits to the throat. From behind the ranger, Piotr spoke the words to a spell, and a dazzling blast of light filled the room. The troglodytes hissed, rubbing furiously at their eyes, and then Haroldo and Mazael were among them. The two big men, hacked and slashed furiously, making quick work of the reptiles, leaving the room quiet, but still repulsively pungent.

A large table lay in shambles in the middle of the room, while crumbled suits of armor that bore decorations of dragons twisting around castle towers lay in heaps along the walls. A flight of stairs wound up along a curved wall to one side. A number of documents, maps and troop lists that dated back to the night Brinewall was attacked, lay scattered among the debris. Reading over them, it became obvious that the guards believed that the citizens of the village were rioting, and that several buildings had caught fire. The guards were preparing to mount and expedition to investigate and restore order, but there was no further indication of their success or failure.

Boris crept quietly to a door on the far side of the room and pressed his ear against it.
"No, no, no!" he heard a shrill voice shouting from the other side. "You can't fly any more! I need more feeling! More emotion!"
The goblin pulled away from the door, his face puzzled.
"Crazy man yelling at not-flying people," he shrugged.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Koman asked. "Sounds like a party!"
The door opened on to a long hall, draped with rotted, faded banners that depicted a stylized castle sitting on a seaside cliff. Thick stone pillars supported the ceiling, while at the far end of the hall sat an old wooden throne, its back carved to resemble the towers of a castle wrapped in the coils of a serpentine dragon. Seated upon the throne was a wild-eyed man, obviously of Tian origin, with a bristly goatee, deep red skin, and a truly prodigious nose. No fewer than eight dire corbies were clustered before him.
"Ah!" the man laughed, and clapped his hands when he saw the newcomers at the door."Just what we needed! An audience! Come in! Come in! Tell me what you think of my latest masterpiece! It's a story about a flock of ravens who find themselves magically transformed into humans who can no longer fly. Isn't that wonderful?!"
Without hesitation, Boris marched into the room. Yannus cursed under his breath.
"Stop him!" he hissed at his brother.
Koman started after the goblin, and Haroldo followed.
"Excellent!" the Tian man clapped again as the trio entered. "All of the players are in place! Now, my actors and thespians, kill them all!!"

The corbies swarmed about the three heroes, while one of them rushed to block the door, preventing Yannus and the others from coming to the aid of their friends. Haroldo, as the biggest threat in the room, drew the most corbies to him. The swiped with beaks and claws, badly mauling the blood rager.
"Catch!" Boris shouted as he tossed a flask to the big man.
Haroldo caught it one-handed and quickly quaffed it, closing some of his wounds. He then swung his blade at the red-skinned man, who was still laughing and clapping maniacally, while dancing a little jig on the dais. The stroke missed by a hair's breadth, and the man recoiled in shock.
"How dare you?!" he screamed, his voice going up several octaves.
Just then, Koman plunged his own blade into the man's back. He screeched again, and then vanished in a flash of light.

Back at the door, Shalelu, Lucian and Mazael made quick work of the corby blocking their way, but another took its place a moment later. It fared no better. The heroes rushed into the room just as Haroldo went down under a flurry of blows from his assailants, and did not rise again. Enraged, the companions redoubled their efforts, fighting to reach Koman and Boris. One after another, more corbies fell before them, but not before Boris was taken down as well. Finally, Mazael reached Haroldo, and hurriedly cast a healing spell upon him. His bleeding instantly stopped, and his eyes popped open. Without missing a beat, he seized his sword from where it had fallen and, still laying on the ground, swept the legs from under a corby that stood above him. As the last of the dire corbies succumbed, Mazael knelt beside Boris and set about stabilizing and reviving the goblin.

It was the consensus of the group that it might be time to fall back and take stock of the situation. Despite this, Boris still insisted on poking around in corners on the way out, laughing gleefully when he triggered a hidden door concealed behind a tapestry. The fact that a quartet of troglodytes waited on the other side, didn't deter him. Even after they were quickly dispatched, with the aid of his none-to-happy companions, he again crept quietly down a stairwell on the far side of the room. It was only after listening through a door at the bottom, and hearing what sounded like several creatures speaking in a hissing, sibilant language, that he finally decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and rejoined the others as they made their way out of the keep and back through the ruins of Brinewall.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

It was as the group was once more passing the Brinewall cemetery, that a small voice called out to them. Sitting atop one of the stone statues of Desna was a tiny female, no taller than a foot, with delicate butterfly wings.
"I've been watching you," she said. "I'm Spivey. Did you just come from the castle? Did you kill all of the evil creatures there? There were more people like you here two weeks ago. They came in a boat, but the sea dragon at them. Well, most of them. One lady survived. She killed the dragon, and then she went to the castle. She never came back."
"What...are you?" Yannus asked.
"Spivey," the little creature repeated. "I am a servant of Desna. I came her ten years ago after my mistress was killed by a hungry plant. I tried to restore the temple, but that attracted to much attention from the fiends in the castle, so I've just been tending the cemetery ever since. Did you kill all the evil creatures?"
"No," Yannus replied. "We killed many bird creatures called dire corbies, and a few troglodytes, but their leader escaped us. We are in no condition to pursue him at this point. We were on our way back to our caravan to recuperate and plan our next approach."
"You're welcome to stay here," Spivey indicated the bone yard. "It is safe. The castle creatures don't come here. I've convinced them it's haunted. I am a healer as well. I can tend your wounds."
"Any friend of Desna is ok in my book," Mazael agreed.
"Wait!" Boris chirped. "We going to stay in grave yard because butterfly lady says so?? What about dead people? Boris want to go back to wagons and Mama Koya."
"The dead here are at peace," Spivey said. "They will not trouble you."
"Boris not care!" the goblin said, throwing up his hands. "We have supplies for caravan! Boris must cook tonight! Boris leaving. No offense bug lady."
"I'll go with him," Koman sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just to make sure he stays out of trouble. We'll meet you back here in the morning."

___________________________________________________________________________ _

The walk back to the caravan through the forest was not a long one, but Boris and Koman had barely made it halfway before the goblin stopped abruptly. He felt as if he were being watched, and when he looked around, he quickly found the culprit. Perched in a tree above them was another strange creature in a day full of strange creatures. She had the body and face of a lovely human female, but large brown feathered wings sprouted from her back, and her legs ended in sharp avian talons. A long bow was slung across her back. When she saw that Boris had spotted her, she raised her hands in a gesture of peace.
"Why all these crazy animal people around here?" Boris asked in disgust. "What you want, bird lady?"
"Careful," Koman warned. "She's a harpy. They can hypnotize a man with their voice."
The harpy shook her head, and then pointed to her throat.
"I don't think she talk," Boris said.
The harpy nodded. Then she pointed to her mouth, her head, and then mimed touching Boris.
"Boris think she want to talk in Boris head," the goblin laughed, happy to play the guessing game.
The harpy nodded again.
"Boris...," Koman warned again.
"Yes, bird lady!" Boris clapped and beckoned her. "Come talk in Boris head!"

She fluttered down to the ground and cautiously approached Boris, one hand extended. She placed her hand carefully on his head.
'I am Zaiobe,' Boris heard a female voice speak into his mind.
'I Boris,' he replied, finding it surprisingly easy to communicate mentally.
'A pleasure,' Zaiobe said. 'I know that you and your friends were at the keep today, and that you slew many of my lover's minions. Wait, don't be afraid. I did not come seeking revenge. Instead, I came to offer you a bargain: I want you to help me kill that sonofab&@~$!'
'Why you want to kill crazy boyfriend?' Boris asked.
'He stole my voice,' Zaiobe answered. 'Well, not really. I lost my voice several years ago when my god took it from me and replaced it with his grace. No, Kikonu has the ability to steal others' voices, and he used this to mimic what my voice used to sound like as a cruel joke. He will learn that I have no sense of humor.'
'Who is this god you worship?' Boris asked.
'He is called Pazuz, the Master of the Four Winds,' Zaiobe replied.
'Hmmm,' Boris mused. 'How we going to kill boyfriend?'
'I will meet you in the town tomorrow,' she said. 'I will call to Kikonu and tell him that I want to make amends. He will believe me. I will summon him to the courtyard. You and your friends will be waiting there to ambush him. Once he is dead, you may do with the keep as you wish. I will not hinder you.'
'Deal,' Boris said, and shook her hand.
Zaiobe smiled and took wing.

"So what was that all about?" Koman asked.
"Bird lady want us to kill boyfriend," Boris shrugged. "She say she is priestess of Desna. We trust her."
"Do you know how I know you're lying?" Koman asked, shaking his head. "Your lips are moving."

________________________________________________________________________

Koman and Boris made it back to the caravan without further incident, and gave a full report of the day's events to Koya and Sandru. Ameiko's status had not changed, though no sooner had Boris finished telling about their encounter with Zaiobe, than she suddenly spoke again in a dreamy voice.
"Beware the cuckolded cuckoo...it is in his shattered silent love you should seek aid..."
"Well that would seem to be prophetic," Koya said. "Still, you must be careful, my son," she told Koman.
He agreed, if only to placate his adopted mother.
"I'd like to go back with you," Koya then announced. "I want to meet this Spivey, another sister of Desna. She sounds fascinating!"


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3 Calistril, 4715

The next morning, the companions gathered in the center of the ruined town, and Zaiobe appeared as promised. When she landed and moved towards Boris so that she might communicate telepathically with him, Yannus intercepted her.
"No offense," he said, turning to the goblin, "but I think I'd like to hear what she has to say first-hand this time."
The harpy shrugged and reached out a hand to touch the young evangelist.
'So Boris explained everything to you?' she asked.
'He did,' Yannus replied. 'What is your proposal?'
'I will fly ahead to the keep,' Zaiobe said. 'I will contact Kikonu and ask him to meet me in the courtyard. I have no doubt he will come, and when he does, you and your friends will be waiting. We will kill him. Simple enough.'
'Perhaps,' Yannus answered, 'but I think we would like to know more about your lover. For instance, what kind of magician is he? What powers does he have?'
'He is no magician,' Zaiobe chuckled,'though he does have magic at his disposal. Have you ever heard of an oni?'
Yannus shook his head.
'Oni are spirit creatures from this plane, but not of this plane. Kikonu is a type of oni called a yamabushi tengu. In his natural form he looks very much like the dire corbies, but he has wings. He is a deadly warrior, and he is resistant to magic. He also heals very quickly. His one weakness, however, is fire. That is why I'm saving these for him.'
She pulled an arrow from her quiver, and as she fitted it to her bow string, its tip ignited in flames.
'I think we can work with that,' Yannus nodded. 'Lead the way.'

___________________________________________________________________________ _

A short time later, the companions stood assembled in the courtyard of Brinewall Keep while Zaiobe hovered above them, bow in hand. The front doors of the keep suddenly burst open, and Kikonu stepped out, his arms spread wide, flanked by a pair of dire corbies.
"Zaiobe, my love...!" he began, but then stopped short when he saw the heroes waiting for him, weapons drawn.
"You traitorous whore!" he screamed, and as he did, he began to transform.
Feathers sprouted from his whole body, and black wings exploded from his back. His face melted and molded into that of a giant raven. He raised one hand towards Zaiobe, and streaks of fire exploded from his palm, striking the harpy. Though scorched and in obvious pain, Zaiobe didn't falter. She loosed a pair of flaming arrows in rapid succession, both of them impaling Kikonu. He shrieked, and began beating frantically at the fire as it seared his flesh.

Shalelu quickly stepped forward and let her own arrow fly, taking advantage of the fact that the oni's wounds were obviously not healing nor closing. The dire corbies moved forward to shield their master from further assault, but as they came, Yannus thrust with his glaive and stabbed one through the thigh. Kikonu moved behind his minions and tried to regain his composure. Cursing, he sent another volley of scorching rays at Zaiobe, at the exact moment that another of her flaming arrows struck home. As he shrieked in pain again, and tried to further insinuate himself behind his corby minions, Mazael swept his falchion down and raked it across the oni's side. A moment later, Yannus cut down the corby he'd wounded before, leaving Kikonu exposed once again. Hissing in rage, Kikonu spread his wings and took to the air, heading straight for Zaiobe. He had made it no more than halfway when the harpy sent one final arrow flying. The flaming shaft pierced Kikonu's throat, and he dropped like a stone. When he it the ground, he lay, unmoving, eyes open and staring blankly.

Zaiobe threw back her head and laughed soundlessly and then, without missing a beat, she pivoted in mid air and loosed an arrow at Shalelu. The ranger dove to one side at the last second, cursing roundly. As Zaiobe prepared to shoot her again before she could regain he balance, Lucian rushed to cover his mentor, nocking and loosing an arrow quickly and without finesse, but still managing to graze the harpy, causing her shot to go wide. Zaiobe circled, trying to draw a bead on the elven archer, whom she judged to be the greatest threat, when Piotr quickly uttered the words to a spell and sent a sizzling stream of bolts of pure energy at her. She reeled from the impact, her head spinning. When her vision cleared again, she saw Shalelu sighting down the shaft of a bone-white, ivory fletched arrow. The ranger loosed, and when the arrow struck home, it exploded into a cloud of white powder. Zaiobe swooned as she inhaled it, falling instantly into a deep slumber. She tumbled from the air and hit the ground with bone-jarring impact. She jerked awake, disoriented, and tried to struggle to her feet. As she did, Haroldo dealt her a heavy blow across the brow at the same time that Boris drove his sword into her back. She swooned again, slipping into unconsciousness. Her last sight was of Mazael standing over her, his falchion upraised, still dripping with the blood of the second corby he'd dispatched.
___________________________________________________________________________ _

With Kikonu and his traitorous lover dead, there appeared to be no further impediment to the companions searching the rest of the keep at their leisure. They passed through the throne room once more, and then through a small door at the far end. This led into a circular room with old tapestries depicting a seaside castle hanging askew on the walls. A thick layer of dust caked the floor, and the air was musty and weirdly cold. Old bloodstains splattered the walls, along with numerous brutal gashes and slashes to the stone itself. Two doors hung askew on hinges in a short passageway to the south, while to the north, a third door lay in fragments on the floor, opening onto a flight of stairs leading down into the darkness. A second staircase led upward against the north wall.

The group made their way carefully down the short passage, and peered through one of the broken doors into what appeared to have been a small office. The desk and chairs that once decorated it lay in shambles on the floor. A flight of stairs led up to the southeast. Several scattered and hastily written notes lay among the shambles of the desk. One of them was a letter that mentioned an attack on Brinewall Castle. It described the attack as a night assault by men dressed in dark robes. The letter was unfinished.

As their attention was focused on the contents of the office, none of the companions heard the stealthy movement coming from the other room, across the hall. It was Piotr's sudden shout of alarm that alerted them, as a large shadow loomed out of the darkness and lurched towards him. The creature was skeletally thin and dressed in the bloodstained remnants of a destroyed suit of half-plate armor. A finely crafted dragon helm sat on its head, below which glowed a pair of red eyes. As Piotr stumbled back, his fingers spat bolts of light at the walking corpse. It rocked back for a moment, but then resumed its approach, silent as a tomb. Shalelu sent an arrow into its chest, and still it came. Boris ducked behind it, and sank his sword into the back of its leg, and it still did not stop. Mazael moved to intercept, but as he came in close, the creature seized him by the throat, and the war priest felt the cold of the grave sink into his bones. Another arrow thunked into the wight's forehead as Lucian's bow twanged from behind Mazael, and finally, it sank slowly to the ground, the light going out of its eyes.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

Deciding to wait on exploring beyond the main level, the group returned to the throne room and took another side door. This led to an interior courtyard that might once have been a delightful garden, but was now a tangle of weeds that surrounded a pool of water choked with thick, slimy green algae. Haroldo led the way this time, and as he neared the pool, he thought he saw a slight ripple of movement just beneath the surface. He leaned forward to see more closely, and it was at that moment that the surface of the pool erupted as a monstrous creature surfaced. Six powerful legs, each ending in a hooked claw, jutted from the shield-like body of a truly massive insect. One of its claws grabbed the big bloodrager and dragged him bodily into the pool. Lucian and Shalelu dropped to their knees and opened fire with their bows, peppering the beast as it started to sink below the surface. Piotr added his own magical barrage, and the creature began to thrash violently, all the while squeezing the air from Haroldo's lungs. Just before it disappeared completely, one of Lucian's shafts found its way into its large, compound eye, sinking in up to the fletches. Haroldo felt the pressure ease around his chest, and he frantically extricated himself and pulled himself onto the shore, gasping and hacking up foul water.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

From the courtyard, the group reentered the keep proper through a mostly empty storeroom that gave on to a vestibule. Beyond that they found themselves in a large circular room ballroom that featured a ring of pillars that supported a balcony above. A flight of stairs wound up to it along the southern wall. Faded paintings of dancing elves decorated the walls, spattered here and there with ancient bloodstains. Looking about the chamber, it was obvious that, not only had a terrible battle taken place there long ago, but also that at least one of the aggressors in the fight possessed prodigious strength, judging from the deep gouges in the walls near the largest bloodstains. The damage looked to have been dealt by an enormous axe or some similar weapon.

A set of double doors from the ballroom gave back on to the throne room. The companions chose another smaller door they had not yet investigated, and found themselves in a large hall, its roof supported by four stone pillars. What appeared to have once been large, wooden cages lay in shambles throughout the room. A heap of rags and furs in the middle of the chamber seemed to be some sort of makeshift bed, while a large heap of partially eaten birds, squirrels, and wild turnips mounded nearby reeked with the stink of compost. Standing amid the detritus were three strange individuals. One, the largest, was female, lanky and gangling. Her legs bend in three joints like a dog's, and she had large, milky eyes. She carried a steel flail in one hand, and wore a wicked-looking spiked gauntlet on the other. The other two were male and bore a resemblance to the female, though their features were just as misshapen and grotesque.
"Well lookee here, Muthildah," one of the males said. "It's them that killed the bird fellas in the courtyard yestidee."
"I can see that, ya idjit," the female, Muthildah, snapped. "What'cha jest standin' there fer? Tear'em a new one!"

As the boys rushed forward, short spears gripped in their powerful hands, Piotr's magic threw dazzling light in one of their eyes. Lucian darted into the room past that one, but the other stabbed at him as he passed, piercing his side with the spear. He guffawed with laughter, but a moment later he squealed and then gurgled as both Mazael and Haroldo slammed into him, dropping him with two devastating blows.
"Do I hafta do everythin' myself?" Muthilda bellowed.
She rushed forward whipping her flail about her head and smashing it into Haroldo's shoulder. The big blood rager felt and heard bones crack. Muthilda raised her fist to pummel his face, but then Shalelu's bow sang, and an arrow sprouted from the half-ogre's chest. Cursing, Muthilda snapped the shaft of the arrow off with her gauntlet, but another one replaced it as Shalelu fired again. She staggered back a step, and Mazael moved after her, burying the blade of his falchion in her belly. She screamed in anger and pain, but it was cut short as Piotr conjured a cloud of ice-cold, swirling black motes about her head and she collapsed in a heat.
"Muthilda!" he only surviving brother cried, his vision finally clearing.
He followed his brother and sister into oblivion a moment later as Boris sank two blades into his kidneys at the same time that Lucian fired an arrow into his heart.

__________________________________________________________________________

The companions moved back through the ballroom and the vestibule beyond, to a door with led into the only area of the ground floor they had not yet explored. The door was unlocked, but it was impossible to tell what the room beyond had originally been used for, as the walls and floor were decorated with countless preserved animals and creatures, ranging from small birds and forest creatures to fearsome predators. Several of the displays looked uncomfortably fresh or humanoid in shape.

As they stepped into the room, first Boris, and then Mazael heard an odd buzzing sound coming from somewhere inside. A moment later, Mazael shouted in surprise and pain as a red gash suddenly opened up across his thigh.
"Hi there!" came a cheerful, high-pitched female voice.
A small figure stood in the middle of the room. She was a dainty, elf-like creature with long, twitching antennae, wearing a brightly colored dress made from butterfly wings and preserved wildflower petals. She twirled a serrated short sword in her hands, Mazael's blood still dripping from the blade.
"I'm Buttersnips," she giggled. "Do you want to play?"
"A quickling," Shalelu hissed. "There are few fey more evil and twisted."
Buttersnips giggled again, and then, moving almost to fast for their eyes to follow, she darted across the room and through all of their legs, coming to a stop behind Piotr, who was standing at the back of the pack.
"Hi there!" she waved, and then slashed the sorcerer's arm.
Piotr cursed as she darted away again, but still managed to send a flash of dazzling light after her.
"Hey! Not fair!" Buttersnips pouted as she rubbed at her eyes.

Shalelu and Lucian quickly moved between Piotr and the quickling. The ranger drew several arrows from her quiver, and handed them to her protege.
"Cold iron," she said. "The bane of all fey."
Lucian nodded as he took them, and then he and Shalelu knocked and sighted. As Buttersnips zipped back towards them, they loosed, and both arrows struck home. The quickling screamed as she darted past them again.
"That's it!" she shrieked. "Fun time is over!"
Hissing, her teeth bared, she darted after Piotr again, slashing him a second time, causing him to stumble.
"She too fast!" Boris shouted in his native tongue. "We must box her in! Close doors!"
Yannus and Shalelu, both of whom understood Goblin, acted quickly, each shutting one of the double doors that led into the room. Unfortunately, this left Haroldo, Shalelu and Piotr on one side, and the others, along with Buttersnips, locked in the room.

Yannus uttered the words to a prayer, asking Shellyn to guide his hand. When Buttersnips ran towards him, time seemed to slow and clarify before his eyes, and it was as if the quickling were moving in slow motion. He thrust his glaive at her, striking true and unerringly, sending her tumbling into Lucian's legs instead of through them. As she jumped to her feet, Lucian knocked and loosed another cold iron shaft, sending it clean through her shoulder. Yannus moved towards her again, and snarling, she whirled on him, stabbing her small sword into his belly. The priest grunted in pain, but he still managed to bring his glaive down solidly on her blade, sundering it into pieces. Buttersnips somersaulted to the far side of the room and then, amazingly, levitated straight up to the ceiling. Lucian sent another arrow at her as she reached the top. Then, just like that, she simply vanished.

Abruptly, the heroes heard Buttersnip's voice coming from the other side of the door.
"Better luck next time!" she said. "And there will be a next time!"
Shalelu's voice came from the other side of the door as well.
"Do not believer her!" the ranger shouted. "Quicklings can throw their voices! She is still there!"
"We need you in here, now!" Yannus shouted.
When the door opened, Buttersnips reappeared, punching Boris in the throat with her bare hand before she pulled herself across the ceiling like a spider. She reached the still-open door, dropped to the ground, darted through and disappeared up a nearby flight of stairs.

"Well," Yannus panted, holding his bleeding belly. "I think that's enough exploration for one day."


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5 Calistril, 4715

The following morning, Sandru appeared at the cemetery to escort his mother, Koya, back to the caravan, and to report that Ameiko had uttered another of her cryptic messages the night before.
"She spoke first in Tian," he said, "but then she switched to Common. She said, 'A key you seek lies in the grip of the ten-handed one---his fear is your greatest ally.'"
Sandru also provided some insight into the ornate dragon helm that the group had taken from the wight that had attacked them.
"This is the traditional helm worn by Brinewall's commanding officer," he explained. "The last man to hold that title was Andril Kortun. He was mentioned in the letter you found in the swamp. Ameiko's grandfather left whatever it is we are searching for in his care. I believe you have discovered his unfortunate fate."

__________________________________________________________________________

Having scoured the main floor of the keep, the companions decided to move upstairs, following the direction Buttersnips had fled. The stairs led to a wide balcony that wound around the ancient ballroom below. A rickety-looking railing ran along the balcony's edge. A set of double doors on the eastern side of the balcony led out onto the battlements of the keep, where the remnants of a solarium stood. Mazael pulled open the doors revealing a chamber draped in gloom. It may have once had a beautiful roof of glass, but little remained save for a few precariously learning wooden timbers hanging above a swath of crumbled stone and ruined furniture. The roof cover the southern half of the room had been crudely repaired with thick sheets of canvas and furs that had been stretched and fastened over the frames, creating a dark, almost cavelike, nesting area.

As Mazael peered into the darkness, he caught a faint hint of movement from a deeper shadow within the gloom. Before he could open his mouth to warn his friends, and ear-splitting screech pierced the air. Mazael, and Boris behind him, staggered back under the sonic onslaught, their ears bleeding. Within the solarium, a massive bat, easily the size of a horse, unfolded itself from the ceiling. Mazael, his balance still off, stepped quickly inside, his sword swinging wildly, yet still managing to connect. Behind him, Shalelu's bow sang, and the giant bat shrieked as her arrow struck home. It lurched towards Mazael and sank it's dagger-like teeth into the big man's shoulder. When Haroldo shouldered past his friend, the mobat spun like a serpent, and bit him as well. Mazael continued to hack at the beast, while Shalelu kept up a barrage of arrows. Finally, Piotr conjured a dazzling flash of light, completely disorienting the bat, allowing Yannus to run it through with his glaive.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

They reentered the keep and crossed the balcony to another set of double doors on the far side. These opened onto a long hallway. To the right, it opened onto what appeared to be a dining room. To the left, it ended at a door before taking a sharp turn. Not hearing or seeing signs of life in the dining room, the companions moved to the door on the left, and Boris put one of his oversized ears to it to listen. He heard a muffled voice speaking strange words on the far side.
"Somebody home," he whispered to his friends.

Koman reached over the goblin and shoved the door open. The walls of the room beyond were decorated with dozens paintings of a towering humanoid figure with four wings, a bird's head, and a scorpion's tail, seemingly drawn in blood. Old pews sat in a line facing the far wall, where a hideously defaced statue of the goddess Desna stood. Her beautiful butterfly wings had been hacked down the middle to give the impression of four wings, her head had been removed and replaced with a crude carving of a leering bird's head, and a long, barbed tail made of braided, dried nettles hung from her posterior. Standing before this unholy tableau were two dire corbies. The first appeared much as all of the others that the heroes had thus far encountered, but the second wore filthy robes caked with blood, and filth caked her feathers, and smeared her beak and talons as well. She wore a sword belted around her waist, and a silver pendant hung from her neck. Neither of the corbies seemed pleased to see the companions, and Boris wasted no time on introductions. The little goblin darted past Koman and stabbed his short sword into the first corby's meaty thigh. As the bird man shrieked, Piotr moved to the doorway, and seeing the robed corby and fearing she may be a priestess, he quickly cast a dazzling flash into her eyes, which also had the effect of temporarily rendering her mute.

Haroldo stepped into the room to support Boris before he was in over his head, and it was then that he heard a familiar buzzing sound. He whirled just as Buttersnips appeared behind him and jammed her small blade into his foot.
"Hi there!" she said cheerfully. "Did you miss me?"
"Not really," Yannus snapped from the door as he began to chant a prayer.
An ear-numbing blast of sound erupted around the quickling, and she recoiled from Haroldo, holding her ears.
"Not fair!" she whined, stomping her feet. "Nevakali, help me!"
Behind her, the robed corby, who must have been Nevakali, stepped to one side, and as she did so, and exact duplicate of her appeared next to her. At the same time, she slapped her hands together, and a small arc of electricity leapt from them to strike Haroldo, setting the blood rager's hair to stand on end.

Koman entered the fray, moving to try and flank Buttersnips, but as he passed her, she wrenched her knife free from Haroldo's foot, and jabbed it through the slayer's calf. He cursed and stumbled, but then Boris somersaulted behind the quickling.
"Pick on someone your own size," he grinned evilly at her, and then quickly slashed his sword across her belly.
Nevakali seemed oblivious to the chaos around her. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she gripped the pendant around her neck. As she did this, dark energy gathered around her, and then exploded throughout the chamber, sending numbing pain through her allies and enemies alike. It took a moment for the combatants to recover, but Shalelu was the quickest, and she knocked and loosed an iron-tipped shaft in one smooth movement, sending it into Buttersnips' back.

Boris looked around, trying to regain his bearings, and saw the Nevakali's dire corby minion reeling on its feet. Seeing a perfect opportunity, the goblin darted across the room and finished the bird man off with a well-placed strike. Meanwhile, Haroldo, still favoring his injured foot, limped towards Nevakali, his blood beginning to boil. and brought his greatsword across his body in a vicious slash that sent the priestess stumbling into the wall behind her, blood flowing freely.
Across the room, Piotr, still smarting from his last near-death call with Buttersnips, sent a pair of flashing missiles at the quickling. Already badly wounded, she glared at him, pure hatred in her eyes. She blurred into motion, streaking around Koman, who managed to graze her with a wild swing of his blade as she passed. She reached the door, dodged past Shalelu, and stabbed Piotr in the side before disappearing down the hall beyond.

Nevakali pushed herself away from the wall, and finding her voice again, croaked the words ot a vile prayer, instantly plunging the room into total darkness.
"Nice try," Mazael growled as he called upon his celestial blood to flood the area with divine light, banishing the darkness.
When she caught sight of Nevakali once more, Shalelu loosed two arrows in rapid succession. The first on struck the illusory double of the priestess, causing it to instantly vanish, while the second struck Nevakali herself. Haroldo howled in rage and rushed the corby, hammering her to the ground with a bone-shattering blow. She struggled to rise, and then Piotr conjured a cloud of dark motes around her, the cold magic weakening her further. Still, she lived, and managed to once again channel her foul, unholy energy into her attackers before Mazael dealt her a killing blow.

As Piotr pumped his fist in celebration, he suddenly cried out in agony as Buttersnips whizzed past him, her blade raking him from back to belly, before she disappeared down the hall again. Shalelu, Koman and Yannus gathered around the sorcerer, forming a shield in case the quickling came around for another strike. When they heard the tell-tale buzzing of her speedy movement, and saw the blur of her shape appear around the corner, however, it was Piotr's magic missiles that finally brought her down.

__________________________________________________________________________

As the companions tended their wounds in the aftermath of the fight, Piotr and Mazael, both devoted followers of Desna, took the time to clean up the shrine, and undo as much of the defacement to her statue as they could.

Afterwards, the group continued their explorations. Beyond the chapel, they found a series of rooms that seemed to be currently serving as sleeping chambers for the dire corbies. One of these chambers was larger than the others, its furnishings laying in disarray with the exception of one writing desk and chair in a far corner. Its surface was heaped with pages of parchment and paper. Piotr shuffled through them, and found most of them covered with dense scribblings and revisions written in messy Tien. The writings all seemed to be devoted to a nonsensical play about a family of crows that turned into bitter, insane humans. A set of stairs spiraled up from this room, leading higher into the tower, where they found what must have once have been a library. The walls were lined with bookshelves, although the majority of the books lay in disorganized piles on the floor. A large, filthy nest of grass, branches and strips of cloth was tucked in one corner of the room. They seemed to have stumbled upon Kikonu's and Zaiobe's hideaway.

Back out in the hallway, Boris stood with his ear pressed against another door.
"Boris hear baby cry," he whispered.
He tried the door handle, but it was stuck firmly. Haroldo fished an iron crowbar from his pack and set it into the jamb. One good push from the big man flung the door open. Although the storeroom beyond may have once been well organized, the fallen crates and broken barrels that filled it presented a tangle of debris. Now all of the companions could hear it...the soft sound of sobbing coming from deeper within the room. Koman led the way, stepping carefully over and around the mounds of detritus. He had gone no more than a few feet in, when he felt something seize his foot. Looking down, he saw a small, bony hand protruding from under a fallen cabinet. The body it was attached to slowly wriggled its way out into the open. It looked like a small, emaciated child, clothed in nothing by cobwebs and rags, but where its head should have been, instead there rested the skull of a wolf or a dog. Its hand was still locked around Koman's ankle, and as he looked down at it, he felt the breath being drawn from his lungs, leaving him fatigued and gasping for air. He raised his sword with some effort, and brought it down on the horrid apparition. It released him, but then darted forward, its animal jaws snapping, and bit into his calf.
"Not to worry!" Boris shouted as he tumbled and rolled past the tiny horror, its continued sobbing seeming to bore into his brain. "Boris here to help!"
He slashed at the creature, but then it turned on him, laying one hand upon in his chest. In that moment, Boris lost his ability to speak.
"Now, Boris going to die horribly!" the monster spoke in the goblin's own voice.
From the door, Shalelu fired into the melee, sending the creature spinning, but it recovered quickly and lunged at Koman again.
"You go to sleep now!" it hissed, still sounding like Boris as it bit and clawed at the slayer.
Koman felt his strength seeping out of him, and then his vision went dark and cloudy as he swooned and collapsed to the ground, snoring like a bear.
Piotr send a missile barrage into the room, and the creature fell back. Haroldo leaped into the gap, standing protectively over Koman as he slashed savagely into the thing. It shivered and shuddered, and then Boris sank both of his swords into its back, and it crumbled into a heap of bones.

Koman awoke with a snort, and climbed groggily to his feet. Boris leaned down to look more closely at the skeletal remains of the monster, clearing his throat to reassure himself that his voice had returned. There, down low, almost at floor level, he saw a series of figures drawn on the wall in a child's hand, seemingly with charcoal. They depicted crude representations of figures dressed in black robes throwing star-shaped projectiles, along with frightening bird-headed men, and lumbering savage-looking giants wielding axes.
Silently, Boris scooped the small bones into a sack. He would take them to Spivey for a proper internment.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

The companions found no more enemies on the upper floor, either living or unliving. However, in an abandoned servants' quarters, they came upon another clue as to what befell Brinewall twenty-five years earlier. Filaments of white, fibrous mold grew along the walls and across the bunk beds of the room, giving it a foul, musty stink. Here and there, mounds of fungus grew in nauseating colors. Beneath these mounds were the skeletal remains of several corpses. The limbs and heads had all been severed from the bodies by some sharp, slashing weapon, though there was no sign of the skulls.

The final room they entered on the upper level was once a guard post. Judging from the blood and gouges marring the walls, a terrific battle once took place there. A spiral staircase led them back down to the ground floor, where they found themselves in a the battle-scarred donjon they had visited earlier. There was another stairwell here leading down, and the group decided to venture to the dungeon level of the keep.

The stairs abruptly ended at an iron portcullis barring passage to a room beyond. The bars themselves were sunken deep into the floor and ceiling with no obvious method of passing thru to the chamber on the other side. However, Boris noted two 5-inch diameter circular depressions in the walls to the left and right of the portcullis, faintly inscribed with an image of the sun to the left, and the moon to the right. Yannus remembered the disc they had taken from Kikonu, inscribed with the image of the sun. He took it out of his belt pouch and placed it in the sun-engraved depression, where it fit perfectly.
"Now we just have to find the moon disc," he said, "and Ameiko said that a key we seek lies in the grasp of the ten-handed one. We'll need to find whoever or whatever that is."

___________________________________________________________________________ _

The retraced their steps to the main level, and then to the nearest set of stairs they had found in their explorations. This happened to be in the ballroom, and it led down to a large kitchen. Stone pillars supported the ceiling, and the fire pits, tables and pantries looked like they hadn't been used in decades. Thick layers of dust covered everything in the room. There were multiple exits from the chamber, but the group chose a pair of double doors to the south. Beyond this, they entered a large, domed room with a pool of dark water in the center surrounded by four stone pillars. It looked to be the keep's cistern.

On the far side of the cistern was another pair of double doors. As had become his habit, Boris leaned close, his ears perked, listening.
"You be quite in there!" he heard a booming voice shout from the other side of the doors, followed by a loud bang. "Slugwort gonna give you a beatin'!"
"Big bully in there," Boris whispered.
Mazael nodded and kicked in the door. Not quite a torture chamber, the dungeon on the far side featured three cells made of iron bars, one to the north and two to the south. A filthy, nest-like bed lay in the middle of the room, heaped around a central stone pillar next to what could only be a half-eaten giant centipede the size of a horse. In one of the cells, a blonde-haired woman, clothed in rags, badly beaten and bruised, stood, yet the look in her eyes was defiant and unbowed. Also standing in the room was an ogre, easily ten-feet tall, with an uprooted sapling gripped in his hand
"Hey!" he bellowed. "You not s'posed to be here....unless you goin' in a cage." He looked momentarily puzzled. "You want Slugwort put'choo inna cage?"

In response, Boris tumbled through the ogre's legs, and promptly slashed across the brute's Achilles'. Slugwort howled, and hopped up and down on his good foot until Piotr hurled a trio of magic missiles into his face. Grabbing his face, the ogre almost lost his balance. Haroldo took that opportunity to charge in, but Slugwort managed to recovered in time to bring his sapling crashing down on the bloodrager. The blow only seemed to enrage Haroldo further. He charged in snarling, and as he struck, Boris slashed behind both of Slugwort's knees, sending the giant sagging to the ground in an unmoving heap.

Yannus and Koman approached the caged woman.
"She's Ulfen," Koman said in an aside. "I speak Skald. Let me do the talking."
"In case you've forgotten," Yannus told his brother, "I speak Skald as well, and we both know talking isn't your strong suit."
The woman continued to glare as they approached.
"I am Yannus Vhiski," the priest began. "Would you like us to release you?"
She nodded once, curtly.
Yannus signaled to Boris, and the goblin hurried over and made short work of the lock. Cautiously, the woman stepped out. "I am Kelda Oxgutter," she said.
Yannus smiled and introduced his companions.
"Did you come on the longboat in the lagoon?" he asked.
Kelda nodded. "Yes, my shield brothers and I. We came here to raid, but we were attacked by a drake. It killed my brothers, but I finally managed to slay it."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Yannus said. "We came here with a trade caravan from Sandpoint. We have encountered and killed many types of creatures here, and have been forced to slay them all. How did you come to be captured?"
"We came to Brinewall following a map I found," Kelda replied. "It showed a hidden entrance into the keep. I was not going to leave empty-handed and have my brothers' deaths be meaningless. Unfortunately, I found the entrance, but it led me to the lair of a creature that I could not best."
"What kind of creature?" Yannus asked, his eyes narrowing.
"It resembled a giant squid," she said, "except it flew, and could speak. It subdued me, and I woke up here."
"Did it have ten arms?" Yannus asked.
"I didn't count them," Kelda snorted, "but ten sounds about right."
"Could you find your way back there?" Yannus asked.
"Yes," Kelda nodded, "but I need to recover my gear, and I'm not currently at my best."
"We can tend your wounds," Yannus replied. "Would you care to join us?"
"My honor demands it," she said stoically.

They found Kelda's gear locked in an adjoining cell, and while rummaging through Slugwort's gear, they came across an odd, rune-marked stone. Piotr peered at it, and muttered a few words over it.
"This is a summoning gem," he said. "It can call a creature from the elemental plane of earth to aid us."
"I think that may come in handy," Yannus said.

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5 Calistril, 4715

Before following Kelda's lead to whoever or whatever the "ten-handed one" was, the companions decided to explore the rest of the dungeon level first. They back-tracked to the kitchen, and from there took the northern door, which led them to a small, low-ceilinged cavern, filled with a tangle of stalactites and stalagmites. Boris's sharp eyes found a hidden exit on the far side, which gave onto a winding passage that eventually led to another cavern, partially water-filled, with an opening leading outside to the bay.

Returning once more to the kitchen, the group opened another door on the western side. The door was stuck and water-swollen, but a strong nudge from Haroldo sent it slamming open. Beyond, a foul-smelling chamber dripped with moisture that ran down the walls in rivulets amid thick tangles of nasty-looking fungus. Three washing bins in the walls were completely clogged with heaps of even more repulsive molds and mushrooms, some of which had grown to prodigious size, including two large mounds of green mold sprouting dozens of purple-capped mushrooms in the rooms center. As the group prepared to enter, Piotr abruptly stopped them.
"Tread carefully," he muttered. "Those are phycomids. They are carnivorous fungi. Their stalks secrete a caustic acid. Stand back"
He wove his magic, and a column of black motes streamed down on the first mound. The two phycomids began to twitch and writhe, but before they could attack, the group jumped into action. Lucian and Shalelu opened fire with their bows, while Koman, Kelda, Haroldo and Yannus swarmed into the room and slashed the fungi to pieces within a matter of seconds.

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The laundry room turned out to be a dead-end, so the companions moved towards the only remaining exit from the kitchen. It opened onto a large mess hall, where long benches in various states of disrepair and several battered and filthy wooden tables stood between stone pillars. The air reeked of reptiles, wafting in nauseous waves of the half-dozen troglodytes that stood about the room. They were tense, and wary, as if they'd been waiting for the trespassers, but Boris was in motion before the first of them could move. He darted past and behind the nearest trog, and buried one of his swords in the brute's scaly belly. With a grunt, the trog folded double and collapsed, bleeding to the floor.

Shalelu knelt by the door and picked her targets, while Lucian stood above her, following his mentor's lead. In the room, one of the trogs moved behind Boris, and clubbed the goblin behind his ear with its cudgel, while another rushed to meet Mazael as the big war priest muscled his way in. Kelda rushed to his side, hurling Ulfen epithets as her blade flashed around her in a blur, and Koman moved among the trogs, striking with uncanny precision. One by one, the troglodytes fell to the heroes, though their stench lingered on.

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Beyond the mess hall, the group stumbled upon a abandoned armory, mostly empty but still with some salvageable arms and armor. A short hall led from there to what looked to be some sort of arena. The middle of the chamber sagged in a bowl-like depression, leaving a narrow ring of level ground around the perimeter. Remnants of a low wooden railing marked the edge of the depression, but most of it had collapsed. A large chair sat in the center of the chamber next to a table heaped with doubtful-looking cuts of rancid meat. Seated upon this make-shift throne was a particularly large troglodyte, with a wicked-looking iron morningstar laid across his legs. Arrayed protectively in front of him, were four female trogs who hissed menacingly as the companions entered the room.

The troglodyte chief grinned evilly as he rose slowly to his feet, and directed his harem to attack. His smile turned quickly to shock and pain as Yannus held forth his holy symbol, and a burst of holy radiance filled the room. The chief and two of the females shrieked and clawed at their eyes, blinded from the brilliant blast, and their skin boiled and blistered from the heat. In an instant, Kelda leaped across the room, her eyes flashing with murder. She slashed her sword downward, opening the chieftain from throat to groin. Coughing and gurgling, the big trog collapsed back onto his throne. Boris took advantage of the chaos to slip his sword blades through the ribs of the nearest female, silencing her screams in an instant. The lethal goblin then whirled away and drove his sword into the throat of one of the blinded trogs, putting her down as well. Haroldo, Yannus and Kelda finished made short work of the remaining two.

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Brinewall Keep lay empty...except for whatever horror still awaited them deep in the bowels of the dungeon. The creature that apparently held the key to the vault the concealed the secret of Ameiko's heritage. Kelda led the way through twisting passages, until at last they came to an intricate iron screen that blocked further progress into a large chamber beyond. A wooden door painted with the image of a tall, beautiful blue-skinned woman seated on a throne stood in the middle of the screen. It was Pharasma, the goddess of the dead. Past the screen, the room stretched dozens of feet to the east, supported by stone pillars, and with deep funerary alcoves on either side. The far end of the chamber seemed to have partially collapsed into a large cavern in which faintly glowing motes of light swirled and danced in the air.

Cautiously, the companions opened the door and entered the crypt. They had taken no more than a few steps, when a ghostly image of the same woman painted on the door, suddenly appeared out of thin air, floating at the far end of the chamber.
"Be at peace," the goddess said. "You are in no danger here. Lay down your weapons and come to me. I shall grant each of you a boon."
Mazael started forward, sheathing his sword as he went.
"What are you doing?" Yannus hissed at him.
"Pharasma is calling to us," the war priest shrugged, looking over his shoulder.
Koman put away his sword as well and began to follow.
"Can't you see it's an illusion?" Yannus snapped as he grabbed his brother's arm
"Pretty," Boris said as he palmed both of his daggers into his sleeves and started after the others.
Yannus cursed and went after the others, though he gripped his glaive firmly in his hands. Haroldo and Piotr came along, though Luician hung back at a gesture from Shalelu, and Kelda showed no sign of going anywhere near the floating image of the goddess.

At the far end of the crypt, the floor simply ended, and a vast cavern opened up in the darkness beyond. The floor descended in two twenty-foot drops into a large, eerie grotto. The walls dripped with moisture and bore strange and disturbing cave paintings of towering four-winged humanoid shapes. Tiny motes of glowing light continued to drift and bob in the air, giving the place an almost nauseating feeling, as if the cavern were viewed through a dreamlike haze. As the companions gathered at the edge of the drop off, the image of Pharasma abruptly vanished, and a creature out of a nightmare rose slowly into view, it's leathery wings beating the air. It had a slimy, mollusk-like body, complete with ten tentacles, two of which ended in savage claws, and a monstrous face. As it reached a height level with the ledge upon which the heroes stood, it spoke, it's voice like bones cracking, its words filthy and unintelligible, and a darkness as black as night spread from out from it, enveloping them all.

Most of the companions groped about blindly, though Boris could still see in the darkness, as could Mazael, thanks to his celestial heritage. So it was that only the two of them saw the creature unleash its next assault. It spat its savage words again, and a greasy cloud of cloying, sickening coldness washed over them. The cried out in pain as the unholy blight seemed to siphon away a bit of their souls, and Yannus and Piotr doubled over, becoming physically ill. Boris knelt down and pulled his bow, taking careful aim. He loosed, and his arrow flew true, but when it struck the abomination, it simply bounced off its thick shell. Then Shalelu was beside him, cocking her head as she listened in the darkness, seeking her target. Before she could act, however, the fiendish decapus drew a slender wand from its tentacles and sent a scorching ray of fire at her.

"I have an idea!" Piotr shouted.
He fished around in his pack until he found what he was looking for: the strange weapon that Kikonu had wielded. He began to whirl the ball and chain section around his head, creating a constant buzzing sound. A moment later, an enormous wasp simply appeared above his head.
'Slay my enemy,' the sorcerer mentally commanded the creature and, it's compound eyes more than adapted for darkness, it flew towards the abomination, it wings humming angrily. It reached the decapus and jabbed its stinger through its shell and into its flesh. The creature bellowed in pain and fury, and lashed out at the wasp with tooth, claw and tentacle. Shalelu's ears honed in on the sounds of the conflict and, ignoring the sting of her burns, she bent her bow and let fly, smiling slightly to herself as she head the arrow strike home.

Haroldo also had an idea, though he didn't feel the need to brag about it like the pompous sorcerer. He felt his way towards the edge of the drop off, and began to lower himself over the side. In the darkness, however, he misjudged his footing and slipped, plummeting the twenty feet to the first ledge below. Cursing, he scrambled to his feet, rage filling him. His anger fueled the innate magic that rested just below the surface and, calling upon it, his body began to shift, growing rapidly to twice his normal his size. He ran towards the far wall and began to climb, his hands and feet sticking to the surface like a spider.

The battle between the decapus and the wasp continued to rage, and with its next barrage of tentacles and claws, the abomination destroyed the giant insect, sending it back to the plane from which it had been summoned. Still, it gave Shalelu time to draw another bead, and this time she loosed first one of the flaming arrows she'd taken from Zaiobe, and then followed with a special arrow she'd been saving...one specially designed for demon-spawn. When the two shafts struck the decapus, it shrieked in agony, clawing and biting at the arrows as they seared its flesh. It brandished its wand again, and another blazing fire bolt struck Shalelu, sending her scrambling for cover.

Down below, as Haroldo continue to scale the wall behind the decapus, it finally took notice of him, and sent a scorching ray his way as well. The giant blood rager took the blast full-on, grimaced in pain, and kept climbing. He reached the creature's level and, while still gripping the wall with his feet and one hand, drew a longsword from the scabbard at his side. The decapus screamed at him, and beat at him with its razor claws, while sinking its fangs into his shoulder. At this point, Haroldo was fully engulfed in the darkness, and fighting blind, though he could tell where the attacks were coming from. Crying out in rage and desperation, he swung his blade with all his might, and felt it bite deeply into the flesh of the fiendish abomination. He heard its screams suddenly cut short, then heard it fall heavily to the ground below. Feeling his strength ebbing, he scrambled rapidly back down to the floor of the grotto, and then proceeded to collapse into unconsciousness from fatigue and blood loss.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

In the aftermath of the battle, Lucian quickly rushed to Haroldo's side and proceeded to heal the warrior's wounds, while the others climbed down the ledges to ensure their opponent was well and truly dead. Secreted within the stalagmites of the grotto floor, they found a small trove of treasures and valuables that the creature had been hoarding. Among the items, Koman's eyes instantly fell upon a familiar looking item...a compass with a small hollow, just large enough to hold a tiny stone or gem.
"It's a wayfinder," he breathed. "The Pathfinders use them. I saw them do amazing things when I studied with them."
He reverently tucked the box into his belt.

Also among the treasure was a stone statuette depicting a a bird-headed, four-winged humanoid with its right arm extended. Piotr saw it first, and felt strangely drawn to it. He reached down and picked it up, and immediately felt an invigorating sense of confidence come over him. At the same time, however, he felt oddly sluggish and weighted down. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

The last item of interest, was a darkwood and silver disc decorated with an intricate etching of Brinewall under the midnight moon. It was the second key to the vault.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

Before breaching the vault, the exhausted and wounded heroes decided to return to the cemetery and rest. Spivey was thrilled to see them, and to hear of their defeat of the evil within Brinewall. She gladly tended their wounds while she chatted away excitedly. As the day wore on, and they recuperated, the sound of approaching hoofbeats interrupted their reverie. Turning towards the cemetery gates, they saw Sandru galloping in on horseback.

"I'm glad to find you here," he said as he dismounted. "Ameiko spoke again less than an hour ago. She said, 'Grandfather waits in the dark, but he knows not who he was.' Does that mean anything to you?"
"We found the second key to the vault," Yannus replied. "Ameiko's grandfather, Rokuro, said in his letter that he would die defending whatever this family heirloom is. Perhaps some part of him still waits there."

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The following morning, the companions returned to Brinewall keep for the last time. They made their way back down to the vault, and placed both discs into their respective slots. Immediately, the iron bars of the portcullis slowly slid down into the floor. The walls of the room beyond were smooth stone, spattered with ancient bloodstains and deep, violent gouges. Deep drifts of dust lay on the floor, while immense stone doors hung open on the far side, revealing empty vaults beyond. Suddenly, the dust swirled into the air, coalescing into an ominous shadowy form that took on the ghostly image of an old but handsome Tian man. The spirit adopted a defensive pose, his katana held before him menacingly.

"Rokuro Kaijitsu!" Yannus called out, stepping forward boldly. "We have come here with your granddaughter, Ameiko. We have come to help her reclaim your family's honor."
The wraith's eyes bulged, and he froze, motionless. He lowered his sword, and then spoke, his voice low and mournful.
"I...know...this...naaaaaammmmmeeeeee...!"
A moment later, he raised his arms and cried out in anguish, then turned and faced the companions, tears of dust running down his incorporeal cheeks.
"Take the Seal away from here," he said. "Take it to my child. It is no longer safe...and I am no longer worth of guarding it..."
He pointed towards a spot on one blank wall, then, with another agonized cry, he flew apart into dust once more.

It didn't take long for Boris to find the hidden door that Rokuro had indicated. The chamber it opened onto appeared to be only half-excavated, one portion of it remaining a rough cavern wall. Three identical darkwood chests bound with bronze sat against the base of that wall. The three chests were locked, but Boris had no trouble unlocking the first two. Inside these were several items of arms, armor and magical trinkets. As the companions gazed upon them, each felt drawn to a specific item. The drew them forth, and instantly knew that each item had been created specifically for them. The heroes instinctively knew as well that each item contained a unique guardian spirit known as a kami. This spirit imparted to each of them the knowledge that, if they were willing to make an appropriate sacrifice, the kami could make their items even more powerful over time.

As Boris approached the final chest, it simply unlatched and opened, as if it had been waiting. The only item inside was an ornate box decorated with draconic designs, containing three compartments. Only one of those compartments was occupied. It contained a stone statuette of a dragon. As the companions gazed upon this strange totem, their vision began to cloud, and all of them collapsed to the floor. In an instant, their unconscious minds were filled with visions. They saw an army of terrible fiends, with burning skin, glaring eyes, and sharp tusks, wearing strange armor and wielding exotic weapons, emerge in a storm from a vast forest, and then descend upon a nation populated by Tian people.
This vision was swiftly followed by another: a young man dressed in royal robes stood over a simple well, a friend at his side. Suddenly, the friend grew nearly three times in size and was sheathed in a frightening suit of jade armor. The jade warrior drew a sword and struck down his royal friend, then held the bloody sword aloft in triumph.
A third vision followed, this time of a young Tian man handing a beautiful sword to a richly dressed Ulfen man in exchange for a bag of gold.
Finally, the vision faded, and the companions saw their friend Ameiko waking from her deep sleep, but she was dressed in the finery of an empress. She rose from sleep, not in a humble Varisian caravan, but from a resting spot within the arms of a jade throne.

The visions passed in the span of a few heartbeats, and when they had, the heroes awoke once more. The visions had left indelible knowledge in their minds: they knew that the land they saw invaded by fiends was called Minkai; they knew that the man they saw murdered by the jade warrior was Emperor Shigure of Minkai; they knew that Ameiko Kaijitsu's true family name was Amatatsu, one of the five royal families of Minkai; they recognized the young Tian man with the sword as Ameiko's grandfather, Rokuro Kaijitsu, formerly Amatatsu Tsutoku, selling the family's legendary sword Suishen to the Ulfen merchant Fynn Snaevald in the city of Kalsgard to finance his family's flight and exile; they knew that Suishen was intelligent, and could impart much more knowledge of the Amatatsu family's legacy if recovered; they knew that Ameiko herself was the heir of her line; and finally, they knew the power of the stone statuette, the Amatatsu Seal, and its warding box.

The Amatatsu Seal was one of five royal seals of Minkai, and represented the Amatatsu family's divine right to rule the empire of Minkai. Should no Amatatsus of pure blood be able to take up that charge, the Seal could invest the right to rule as an Amatatsu in any number of living, humanoid hosts, making them Amatatsu scions. The companions understood that the Seal had indeed invested each of them as just such a scion. The Seal had healing powers as well, and it revealed these to the heroes. In fact, Piotr instantly knew that the bird statue he had claimed was cursed, and would eventually corrupt his soul. The Amatatsu Seal unmade this curse, and the statue fell to the floor and crumbled to dust. They also were aware that the Seal radiated strong magic, and those with the proper resources could sense this magic across oceans and continents, allowing it to be tracked across any distance. Originally, this was meant to allow its rightful owners to track it if it were stolen, but this also made it vulnerable to tracking from enemies who might be seeking it. This was the purpose of the warding box. As long as it was closed, and the Seal contained within, no amount of divination could find it. Lastly, the Seal made it known that it could never be transported by teleportation magic or dimensional travel. It could not be taken from the Material Plane save via special portals blessed by the gods, and those who carried the Seal could neither cast nor otherwise use teleportation effects. This was meant to protect the Seal from being easily stolen, but it also meant that, if the Seal were to be returned to Minkai, it was going to be a very long journey.

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NIGHT OF FROZEN SHADOWS

6 Calistril-24 Calistril, 4715

"What should I do now?" Spivey asked, looking lost and a bit forlorn as her guests packed up their gear and prepared to return to their caravan.
"Come with us," Yannus shrugged. "Your work here is done. What's keeping you?"
The little angel looked thoughtful. "Where are you going?" she asked
Yannus turned to Ameiko, who had come to find her friends after awakening from her coma. She had explained to them that the Amatatsu Seal had also had a kami spirit attached to it, but when Rokuro had died, and the seal left abandoned, it had left its vessel to go in search of any surviving Amatatsus. When it had finally sensed her presence, it had possessed her, in a misguided effort to communicate. Now that the seal had been recovered, it had returned the kami had returned to resume its duties.
"First," she said, answering Spivey, "we are going to Kalsgard to reclaim my family's sword. Then, I intend to travel over the Crown of the World all the way to Tian Xia and Minkai to restore my family's name and heritage."
Spivey's eyes grew large. "You are going to travel across the top of the world??"
Ameiko winked and nodded.
"Even my former mistress never travelled so far!" Spivey exclaimed. "Yes, I would love to come with you! Just think of the stories I'll have to tell when I see Desna again!"

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The caravan of the Seven Scions of Sandpoint set out once more that afternoon, making for the upper Nolands, and then into the Land of the Linnorm Kings. Spivey and Kelda settled in nicely, though the latter ended up having to take over driving one of the wagons, as the Varisian woman Danica made it very clear that she had no intention of journeying across the world, and would be returning to Sandpoint immediately.

Less than a day out of Brinewall, the caravan came upon a group of stranded travelers. They drove a pack train, but had lost too many of their animals to continue. They begged passage, but quite simply, the caravan had no more room. Instead, Sandru agree to sell the travelers some of their supply goods, and Yannus advised them that Brinewall castle was only a few miles back. It would a good place for them to hold up until they could recover and resume their journey.

A day later, the caravan entered the cold, subarctic Land of the Linnorm Kings. One thing that was immediately noticeable were the ubiquitous flocks of ravens that constantly filled the skies above. It was Yannus who first noticed that, among the flocks, there was one much larger bird. Perhaps the size of a small dog, the raven also had one brilliant, red feather on one pinion. He pointed it out to the others, and the Varisians in the caravan immediately began forking the sign of the evil eye in its direction.
"'Tis a blood-feather raven," Kelda explained. "'Tis a bad omen. Such creatures are thought to be servants of dark powers."

As they continued to move north, the caravan stopped at the copper mine of Kopparberget, where a small village had grown up to support the dwarven miners there. They traded with the dwarves before setting out again, following an existing trade route to the town of Jol. Every other day or so, the blood-feather raven could be seen on the wing above them again, only to disappear a short time later. The mood among the Varisians grew more dour.

The route turned towards the Grungir Forest, and cut through its eastern neck. They were no more than a day away from the bridge to the city of Losthome, when they were set upon by a band of trolls. The battle was fierce, and would have gone worse for the group had Piotr not pointed out that trolls were susceptible to fire. With the help of his magic, and judicious use of alchemical fire, the giants were routed, but not before the caravan took significant damage. They limped into Losthome, where they were forced to spend four days making repairs. Unrest increased among the Varisians, but the combined talents of Ameiko and Yannus helped ameliorate the situation.
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The path turned north again, following the western bank of the Thundering River, until it reached the confluence of that waterway and the Rimeflow River. There, at Skalsbridge, the caravan made camp. The night was cold, and a frozen mist clung low to the ground, making the light dim, even within the range of the campfire. The sounds of the night were muted, but the dull silence was suddenly broken by the scrape of wood upon the gravel bank of the river...a boat had beached just beneath the bridge. This was quickly followed by the splash of feet in the shallows, and the oath-cries and battle songs of Ulfen raiders.

The heroes rushed forward to meet the onslaught of over a dozen crazed Ulfens while, out in the fog, they heard more raiders attacking the caravan. As the two groups clashed, Haroldo slashed the legs out from under one raider, while Yannus skewered another one. After that, however, Haroldo found himself surrounded and assaulted from all sides, while Yannus took a blow as he struggled to recover his glaive. Haroldo's blood boiled as he raged and hacked around him, cleaving his blade through two warriors. As his back was turned, two more Ulfens closed in, slashing at his exposed flank. Behind him, Lucian dropped a raider with a well-placed arrow, but he could see that the blood rager wouldn't last much longer. He rushed to Haroldo's side and laid his hands upon the big man, allowing the healing power of his god to flow through him and into his friend.

Across the battlefield, Yannus continued to fend off raiders who were encroaching on Piotr. The sorcerer back-pedaled as he was being hemmed in, and then, at the last moment, he flung both hands out and loosed a cone of flames, engulfing all of his assailants. From behind them came Mazael, his falchion hewing madly, cutting down one of the burned Ulfens. Yannus took the opportunity to bring his own magic to bear, unleashing a brilliant flash of light, which blinded several of the warriors, but unfortunately affected Haroldo as well.

Haroldo never slowed. The latent magic that lay within him caused his body to blur as he continued to rage, slashing about him madly, and continuing to bring down enemies, even blind as he was. The tide of battle inexorably turned as the Ulfens were cut down. Two turned and fled across the bridge, vanishing into the mists, but their brethren did not far so well. The heroes, battered and bloodied themselves, cut them down to a man. As the din of battle faded, Ameiko, Sandru, Koya, Shalelu, Kelda and Spivey joined them out of the mist, equally bruised and injured, but just as victorious.

In the aftermath of the battle, the companions discovered that all of the raiders wore identical gold bands around their upper arms, engraved with the image of a stylized lion.
"These are the mark of a ring-giver," Kelda explained. "A local lord will give these to his loyal men as a sign of fealty."
"Do you recognize this emblem?" Yannus asked. "Why would they attack us?"
Kelda shook her head. "There are many minor lords in Kalsgard," she explained. "Perhaps we can learn more when we reach the city."
Further investigation also revealed the raiders' boat, a fifty-foot river craft with the name Aril's Hammer engraved on the prow. The group debated the wisdom of trying to row the ship down river to Kalsgard and sell it, but ultimately decided that might draw too much attention. The boat was scuttled.

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The remainder of the trek to Kalsgard was largely uneventful, save for a foiled attempt by a group of bandits to try and rob the caravan under cover of fog and darkness. Kalsgard itself came into view roughly twenty days after the caravan left Brinewall. The trading capital and oldest surviving settlement of the Linnorm Kingdoms, the city was a huge, bustling metropolis rising upon the southern shore of the Rimeflow River's wide mouth, with a population of over seventy thousand.
"Once we pass the gates," Sandru explained, "we'll be entering the Bone Quarter. It's the poorest section of the city, but it's were most Varisian caravans camp. Mostly because the Ulfen's see little distinction between honest caravaneers, such as ourselves, and Sczarni con artists. I suggest, little brothers," he said to Yannus and Koman, "that you and your friends procure your own quarters in the city. This will help throw off suspicion while I make preparations for the journey over the Crown of the World."

Following Sandru's advice, the heroes split up, and planned to meet up at an unassuming inn latter in the day. Piotr made his way through the city to the Fire Quarter, a rowdy district where all manner of Ulfen competition, relaxation, and entertainment took place. There he made surreptitious inquiries about the local lords and their sigils. It didn't take him long to discover that the lion's head emblem was the rune-sign of a ring-giver named Asvig Longthews. Further questioning also revealed that Fynn Snaevald, the merchant who purchased the sword Suishen from Rokuro Kaijitsu over sixty years ago, was still alive and well. He apparently still worked as an independent trader of amber and whale oil, as well as a collector of Tian antiquities, out of his home in the Amber Quarter.

For his part, Yannus went in search of a shrine to his goddess, Shelyn, that he had leearned existed in the city. He finally found it in the Jade Quarter, a district which served as a home to a large Tian immigrant population coming over the Crown of the World. The old priest of the shrine was a man named Yin-Po. He was pleased to meet a fellow adherent of the love goddess, but was curious as to what had brought Yannus so far from home.
"I'm hired on as a caravan guard," the young cleric explained, somewhat circuitously. "My employer is looking to find a guide over the Crown of the World to Minkai."
"Oh, you may have difficulty there," Yin-Po shook his head. "This is the off-season for such travel. The morozko storms sweep across the Crown this time of year. Most of the guides who know the route are retained by the merchant guilds, and would not be free to take on such an unsanctioned journey."
"I see," Yannus nodded. "You wouldn't happen to know of any freelance guides, would you?"
Yin-Po looked at him guardedly.
"I'm afraid not," he said curtly. "In any event, I wish you good luck and a safe journey, brother. Please feel free to come by for services during your stay."

________________________________________________________________________

The companions regrouped and, based on Piotr's information, decided to first seek out Fynn Snaevald. Ameiko insisted on coming along, wanting to hear first-hand any information related to her family. The Amber Quarter was the hub of manufacturing and production in Kalsgard, with shops that sold similar wares congregating close together along the streets. Thus, it was not difficult to find Fynn's home. When Yannus knocked on he door, it was answered by a slender, wiry old man with blue veins crawling across his arms and neck beneath a shock of white beard and hair that floated around his head like a halo.
"Help you?" he asked.
"Are you Fynn Snaevald?" Ameiko asked.
"The one and only," the old man grinned. "And who might you be?"
"My name is Ameiko Kaijitsu," she replied. "Sixty years ago, your purchased a sword from my grandfather, Rokuro. Do you remember this?"
"Suishen," Fynn breathed. "Of course I remember. It hung over my mantle there up until two weeks past. I tried to carry it once upon a time, but it gave me a sort of...a funny feeling."
"Two weeks?" Ameiko asked. "Did you sell it?"
"Hah!" Fynn barked. "Never! 'Twas stolen! A band of black-masked thieves broke in and took it! Didn't see them myself. Wasn't home, but several of my servants were killed in the dust up. One of my men, Olaf, was still alive when I came back. Told me what happened before he expired. The only thing he said about the thieves was that one of them was much taller than the others, and seemed to be in charge. I reported it to the city watch, but nothing's come of it. Tell you what, though: if you youngsters find out who took my property and killed my people, and exact my sworn blood vengeance upon them, then the sword is yours."
"Can you think of anything else that might help us find the perpetrators?" Yannus asked.
Fynn thought hard for a moment, stroking his beard.
"Now that you mention it," he said at length, "Olaf did say one more thing. He muttered something about paying the lion's due. Didn't think much of it at the time. Just the ramblings of a dying man who'd lost his wits."
Yannus looked pointedly at his companions, and then withdrew one of the armbands they'd taken from the raiders from his cloak.
"Have you ever seen this before?" he asked.
"Aye," he nodded, taking the band. "'Tis the rune-sign of Asvig Longthews...Wait a minute! Longthews is a tall fellow. You think it was he that took the sword?"
"It would seem so," Yannus said. "Men wearing these rings set upon us on the road not five days past. Do you know where Longthews lives?"
"Not exactly," Fynn shook his head, "but I know his farm is somewhere outside of town. I also hear-tell that he has several dozen warriors as his bondsmen."
"Well, he has a couple of dozen less now," Haroldo growled.

__________________________________________________________________________

It didn't take much investigating to discover that the farm of Asvig Longthews lay about a two hour walk southeast of the city, in an area of lightly forested and marshy hills. The companions decided to pay the local ring-giver a visit that very night. At first, Ameiko wanted to accompany them, but Sandru convinced her that it would be in her best interest to stay with the caravan and the Seal, while he went with the young heroes. Kelda also agreed to come along, since she was most familiar with Ulfen customs.

When the group reached the Longthews farm, it was after nightfall, and the main house was ablaze with light, with the sounds of boisterous celebration coming from inside. As they approached cautiously, they saw that a ring of short wooden posts driven into the ground surrounded the farm and its outlying buildings. The main road to the house passed between two of those posts. The posts were topped with fancifully carved lion heads, matching those on Asvig's arm rings. Piotr held up a hand as the group drew closer.
"There's magic here," he murmured. "Some sort of conjuration dweomer."
Mazael moved a few steps further.
"There are runes carved into the posts," he said, "and it looks like someone drew another rune in the dirt between them, then tried to erase it. I think I can redraw it."
He bent to the task, and after a few moments, stood up and nodded.
"I think I got it."
To test the theory, he stepped between the posts. Instantly, there were two flashes of light, one from each post, and a moment later, a pair of large felines appeared out of thin air and, snarling, hurtled towards the companions.
One of the summoned lions leaped for Sandru, and ripped at his arm with its razor-sharp claws. The second one pounced on Lucian, clawing and biting. Lucian drew his cudgel from his belt and slammed it across the snout of the beast, while Sandru rolled behind it and thrust his sword through its spine. With a yowl, the lion-creature vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Yannus and Mazael turned on the other cat, and quickly dispatched it as well.

The companions continued on, as quietly as they could, to the farmhouse. Just before they reached it, Sandru hissed to get everyone's attention. Turning to look at him, the others saw him point back up the road in the direction from which they'd come. There, perhaps a mile or two away, they saw a column of torches, maybe twenty or more, heading towards the farm.
"I figure we've got maybe an hour before we have company," Sandru said.
Yannus nodded, then gestured for Haroldo to open the door. The big warrior slammed one large boot into the door and sent it flying inward. The long main hall beyond had a sunken floor with a raised platform along the sides. These were crowded with trestle tables and chairs, while a fire pit dominated the center of the floor. Twenty Ulfen warriors filled the room, though maybe half of them were passed out drunk. The others were drinking heavily, and manhandling the young female thralls serving them. The noise stopped abruptly as the door slammed open.
"ON BEHALF OF FLYNN SNAEVALD," Yannus's voice boomed into the silence, "WE DEMAND WEREGILD FROM ASVIG LONGTHEWS!!"
The silence stretched a heartbeat longer, and then the Ulfens burst into laughter as they rose to their feet and drew their battle axes...


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25 Calistril, 4715

Boris didn't wait for a response from the Ulfens. Drawing his brand new pair of wakizashis, he ran screaming into the room, leaped up onto one of the raised platforms, and rammed one blade into the groin of the nearest warrior. The big man grunted, and doubled over, his blood pulsing out in great gouts as he collapsed to the ground. With no choice at that point but to follow the insane goblin's lead, Lucian knelt and put an arrow through the chest of another Ulfen, and Piotr finished the man off with a cloud of freezing, black motes.

Sandru glanced at Koman and shrugged, then launched himself into a forward roll between a pair of drunken, swaying Ulfens. Koman followed his older brother, and the pair of them quickly flanked and dispatched one of the inebriated warriors. Up on the nearest platform, Boris drove one sword into the throat of an Ulfen who was still snoring loudly in a drunken stupor. Another warrior rushed up behind him as he knelt, and managed to open a gash in the goblin's back before he rolled away. Mazael suffered a glancing blow as well as he plowed into the main room and brought his falchion down on another sleeper. Slowly, the remaining Ulfens who'd been sleeping began to rouse, and climb slowly to their feet, looking around in bleary-eyed confusion. Haroldo, side-by-side with the battle-maddened Kelda, dispatched one of them before he could get his bearings. Yannus, still standing at the entrance to the house, saw three warriors converging on Boris, which another pair moving in to flank the little goblin. Gripping his holy symbol, he called forth a thunder clap of sound that momentarily stunned the first three.

At that moment, on the far end of the room, an ornate folding screen was pushed aside as another Ulfen warrior entered the room. Immediately behind him, came a woman dressed in fine furs, and with a raven perched on her shoulder. She fixed her gaze on Boris, still standing over the pair of men he'd slain, and she forked her fingers at him. Boris's eyes rolled back in his head, and he swooned and collapsed into a deep slumber. The pair of Ulfens flanking him brought their axes down upon him mercilessly.

The other companions were not near enough to Boris to aid him, but they fought on as if possessed. Mazael, aided by Lucian's arrows, took down one man, while Koman beat another one to the ground. Sandru leaped to Haroldo's side and slew one warrior as he was still strapping on his shield, then Haroldo swept his greatsword in huge arc, and took out another pair. Meanwhile, Piotr, realizing who the real threat in the room was, conjured a sphere of flames out of thin air, and sent it bouncing towards the witch. It set the hem of her skirts ablaze, causing her to beat frantically at them to extinguish herself.

Then, from behind the witched, another warrior entered the room, but this was was easily head-and-shoulders taller than any of the others, and wore fine armor beneath furred robes. This could be none other than Asvig Longthews. At the same time, the doors to the kitchen flew open, and four more warriors streamed in. The companions were completely surrounded at this point, but that did not slow them. Koman slew one of the men still recovering from Yannus's sound burst as he bent to retrieve his sword. Boris, awake once more, but bleeding profusely, rolled to his feet and quickly grabbed his blades. Lucian dropped another warrior with his bow, but suffered a glancing blow for his trouble. At that moment, a woman's scream split the air. All combatants turned to look, pausing in their efforts to kill each other. The witch, her dress still ablaze, was falling as a barrage of streaking missiles from Piotr struck her full in the chest. Silence engulfed the room, and then a moment later was split by another cry, this time from Asvig.
"HELVA!!!"
Rage suffused the Ulfen chieftain, and he lunged into the melee, heedless of the danger. He shoved his own men out of his way, ignoring blows from Kelda, Koman, and even Boris, though his blood flowed freely. Finally, he reached the door, and Piotr, who had just murdered his wife. He lunged forward with a shortspear and swept the sorcerer's legs from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground. His companions sprang into action, fighting viciously to reach their friend, felling warrior after warrior, but still unable to get to Asvig. The chieftain raised his spear high, preparing to impale Piotr, but then, out of the corner of his eye, the sorcerer spotted his flaming sphere, still sitting on Helva's corpse. With a thought, he called it to him, and it leapt through the air, landing directly on Asvig's back. He howled as he was suddenly engulfed in flames and dropped, burning, to the floor.

Eight Ulfen warriors still stood, but when they saw their leader fall, they all simultaneously dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender.

________________________________________________________________________

As Yannus and Koman were the only ones fluent in the Skald language (besides Kelda), it fell to them to interrogate the Ulfens.
"We saw lights on the road," Yannus began. "How many more are coming?"
The warrior he was questioning shrugged. "Maybe two dozen. It is a celebration. All of Longthews' huscarls have been called in."
"Celebration?" Koman asked. "Of what?"
"We honor the passing of Snorri Stone-Eye," the Ulfen replied. "He was ring-giver to Asvig Longthews."
"What did your lord do with the sword that you took?" Yannus asked.
The warrior shook his head. "I do not know."
"You don't deny you stole it?" the priest pressed
"Asvig tells us to take the sword, so we take the sword," the prisoner said.
"Why did you kill Snaevald's people?" Koman snapped.
"Asvig said leave no witnesses," replied the Ulfen.
"You, and any who were directly involved, now owe weregild to Flynn Snaevald," Yannus pronounced. "What do you offer?"
The warrior looked around at his fellows, and all nodded slightly.
"We offer ourselves as thralls," he said calmly.
Yannus considered this, then nodded as well. "That is acceptable."

Yannus turned his attention to the thralls still huddled in one corner of the great hall. The companions had discovered several more in the kitchen and pantry, some of whom looked like they had been used roughly.
"You are all safe," he said gently. "What would you do now?"
"We are yours, Lord," one of the women replied simply.
"Flynn Snaevald has need of servants," Yannus said. "Would you be willing to serve him? He would be a kind master."
The women looked at one another and nodded enthusiastically.
"Can any of you tell me if Asvig has had any recent dealings with any strangers?" Yannus asked.
They looked at each other again, and the one who spoke for them answered.
"Just the guide from the city," she said.
"What guide?" Koman asked.
"Ulf Gormundr," she replied. "He came several days ago, and our Lord...Asvig...had him taken captive."
"Is he still here?" Yannus asked.
"No," the thrall said. "He was taken yesterday. Asvig said he would be joining Snorri Stone-Eye."
"What?" Yannus asked. "What does that mean? I thought the warriors said he was dead."
"He is," the woman said. "But his funeral barge will be lit at dawn. I think Asvig meant that he was taking the guide to the barge."
"Do you know where?" asked Yannus.
"The docks in the Fire Quarter," the girl replied. "Oh, there was another visitor today as well. A Vharki woman."
Yannus looked questioningly at Kelda.
"An ice-dwelling people," the Ulfen woman explained. "They are nomads, much like your Varisians."
"She came looking for the guide as well," the thrall explained, "but my Lord had his men beat her and throw her off his land."
"What a saint," Koman snorted.

As the thralls gathered their meager belongings, and the other heroes looted the farmhouse and prepared the prisoners to travel before the rest of Asvig's men arrived, Koman pulled one of the serving girls aside, a pretty young blonde with ice-blue eyes.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Olga," she said shyly, casting her eyes downward.
"Do you want to accompany your friends to your new employers, or," Koman winked slyly, "would you like a life of adventure, treasure-seeking and constant excitement?"
"Are you the ones that Asvig sent his men to raid upon three nights past?" she asked excitedly.
"You know about that?" Koman asked.
"Yes," she nodded, "the Lord bragged about it. He sent them on a long boat loaned to him by the Rimerunners Guild."
"I see," Koman said. "Yes, that's us, and as you can see, he failed, and we don't take kindly to people trying to kill us. We always pay our debts. So what's your answer?"
"Oh yes! Yes!" she giggled.

___________________________________________________________________________

As the companions made their final preparations to depart Asvig's farm, Boris caught sight of a solitary figure approaching the house through the night mist.
"Who goes there?" Yannus called.
The figure came slowly forward into the torchlight, hands spread to show they were unarmed. It was a woman dressed in heavy furs. Her features were flatter and more swarthy than the Ulfens, and her hair was raven black. One eye was swollen shut, and numerous bruises adorned her face.
"My name is Uksahkka," she said in accented Skald. "Did you find him? Did you find Ulf?"
"Are you the Vharki woman who came her earlier today?" Yannus asked.
She nodded. "I came looking for my friend. Asvig Longthews came to him several days ago and offered him a job planning a trade route through the Grungnir Forest. Ulf was happy to have the work. He has not been very popular with the guilds of late. He came her two days ago to finalize plans, and he never returned. When I came seeking him, I was told he had never arrived, and was thrown out. Yin-Po told me that you had come by his shrine asking about a guide. I tracked down your caravan and followed you here. So did you find him?"
"No," Yannus shook his head, and Uksahkka's face fell. "The thralls told us that he has likely been placed upon the funeral barge of Snorri Stone-Eye, which is set to be launched at dawn."
Uksahkka sniffed back tears and nodded.
"I know of this," she said, "but I think the funeral will be delayed. There will be a heavy fog in the morning, and it will not clear until sunset. The barge will be guarded by three dozen of Snorri's huscarls. It will be vulnerable, however as it sails out of the harbor."
"How do you know all of this?" Yannus asked, suspiciously.
Uksahkka shrugged. "Vharki women sometimes have a sixth sense about the weather. It was passed to me by my mother, and to her by her mother before."
"A useful talent," Yannus smiled. "How would reach the barge if it is already at sail and alight?"
"The pyre will be lit by a timed flame," the Vharki explained. "It will not ignite until it is past Spear-Shaker Point. If you and your friends meet me there an hour before sunset, I will bring kayaks. These are small boats that my people use. They are easy to master, and I can teach you quickly. You can use them to paddle out to the barge."
"You seem to have all the answers," Yannus said, arching one eyebrow.
"If I did, Ulf would be here now," she replied bitterly. "I will not go to the death ship, but I will meet you at the Shellyn's shrine after. Give this token to Yin-Po, and he will bring you to a safe house where I will meet you."
She handed Yannus a clay disc with the image of a songbird stamped on one side.
"Until we meet again."

___________________________________________________________________________

"Paddle boats!??" Mazael raged. "Do I look like I can swim??!"
He indicated his large frame, sheathed neck to foot in plate armor.
"Boris agree," Boris piped in. "Is stupid idea. Why we listen to stupid boat lady? Boris have better plan."

The group had made their way back to Kalsgard under cover of darkness, and back to Flynn Snaevald's. The old shopkeeper was overjoyed at his new thralls and enthusiastic serving girls, and was, if anything, happier when Haroldo presented him with the severed head of Asvig Longthews. He was disappointed to hear that Suishen had not been recovered, but assured the heroes that, should they recover it, it was theirs to keep. Afterwards, the group had returned to the Bone Quarter and their caravan to discuss their next move.

"I can't believe I'm asking this," Yannus sighed, "but what is your plan, Boris?"
"Rest of you go learn how to paddle boats," the goblin said, "and Boris will sneak on fire boat. If Ulf man on boat, Boris set him free so he not burn up. Then, when boat sail past you, you paddle little toy boats over and we all get away. Simple."
"What part of 'I don't swim' didn't you understand?" Mazael barked.
"And what about the three dozen Ulfens guarding the barge?" Koman asked.
"You stay on shore," Boris waved at Mazael, "and if Boris not want to be seen, three hundred vikings not see him. Plus, Boris have this!"
He pulled a small vial out of his belt pouch.
"What is that?" Yannus asked.
"Special potion," Boris smiled. "Boris buy in market today. Make Boris invisible."
Yannus looked to the others.
"Does anyone have any better ideas?" he asked.
"Not as long as I don't have to swim," Mazael grumbled.

___________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, just as Uksahkka predicted, a heavy fog rolled in off the bay, and Snorri Stone-Eyes funeral barge remained at dock. As the day wore on towards evening, however, the fog began to lift, and the Scions began making their way towards the rocky peninsula known as Spear-Shaker Point, accompanied by Kelda and Shalelu. As they walked through the city, an unusual number of ravens gathered on the rooftops and in the trees along their route, appearing to almost watch and follow the companions with their black eyes.

As prearranged, Boris separated from the others when they reached the docks, and made his way stealthily towards the barge. Just as Uksahkka said, no less than three dozen burly Ulfens milled about on the pier around the boat, drinking, laughing and singing. Boris quaffed his potion and promptly vanished from sight. From there, it was effortless for him to sneak onboard the barge. The deck of the longship had been built up with planks over the old rowing benches, creating a space belowdecks. It appeared that the funerary treasures had been placed in that hold, as the deck was empty save for a silent, shrouded form resting atop a bier in front of the mast, surrounded by stacked wood. A leather sack sat atop a small pile of sand at the base of the bier. Boris found a hatch near the bow, but it appeared to be nailed shut. He let out a long sigh, then settled down in the shadows to wait until sunset.

True to her word, Uksahkka was waiting for the rest of the Scions on the rocky beach at Spear-Shaker Point. She had four small two-man boats pulled up on the shore, each with a pair of double-bladed paddles. For the next half-hour, she taught the heroes the basics of paddling the kayaks, and keeping them upright. Finally, as the sun began to set, the companions saw in the distance, Snorri Stone-Eye's funeral ship set sail.

Boris watched as an Ulfen warrior stepped on board the ship with a lit torch. He touched it to the small leather sack atop the sand pile, and it promptly began to smoke. When he stepped off the boat, the other warriors raised their drinking horns a final time, and began to sing loudly as the boat was unmoored and pushed out to sea. Boris waited several minutes before he crept out of cover. He knelt down beside the hatch and pressed one enormous ear to it. Faintly, from below, he caught the sound of chains clinking. Pulling the crowbar Haroldo had loaned him out of his pack and went to work on the hatch. It took some time, but he finally managed to pry it off. The hold below was a cramped space, nor more than four-feet high, but this proved no impediment for the diminutive goblin. Boris dropped down and made his way through stacks of funerary treasures, occasionally stopping to pocket a few trinkets here and there. At one point, an ornate great helm caught his eye. It had golden inlays and backswept wings mounted to its sides. Boris made a mental note to come back for it. When he reached the center mast, he saw the chain he'd heard earlier bolted to the wood. It stretched away into an odd mist that filled the hold's stern. It didn't seem like smoke, but Boris shrugged and began to follow the chain. Eventually, it ran between a pair of crates. The goblin cautiously peered over the top. On the other side, a figure crouched in the mist with its back to him.
"Ulf?" Boris called out.
The figure slowly rose and turned towards him. He was dressed in a finely wrought chain shirt, but his skin dripped with seaweed and putrid seawater. Barnacles grew out of his flesh, and an eyepatch covered his left eye. He gripped a wicked-looking great axe in his hands.
"Ooohhh," the goblin breathed. "Boris think you not Ulf..."

The attention of the Scions was focused on the approaching funeral ship, a column of smoke now rising from its deck, but no sign of Boris nor Ulf.
"There!" Shalelu suddenly called out.
The others looked more closely at the ship, but then noticed that the ranger was pointing towards the water, where a large wake was moving steadily towards the shore. Then, something huge emerged from beneath the waves. It resembled an enormous crab, the size of a wagon, with a thick, spiny carapace, and over-long legs. Shalelu's bow was in her hand in an instant, and she rapidly fired off a volley of three arrows, each one striking true, but not slowing the huge crustacean at all. Koman stepped forward to the edge of the water and braced himself.
"Stay behind me!" he called over his shoulder.
Yannus did as he asked, but upended a flask, and instantly grew to twice his size, his enormous glaive now extending over his brother's shoulder.

Boris weighed his options, and then did the first thing that came to mind. He leaped at the dripping corpse, both blades flashing. He impaled the thing with one wakizashi, but Snorri Stone-Eye batted aside his second thrust. Then the undead Ulfen brought his axe down, opening a gaping wound in Boris's thigh. At the same time, the goblin felt a bone-numbing cold sink into his flesh, leaving him feeling weak and winded. Rethinking his strategy, he limped backwards into the mist, quickly loosing sight of Snorri, and ducking behind a stack of boxes.

Shalelu continued to pepper the giant crab with arrows as it reached the shore, and Piotr hurled a barrage of magic missiles towards it as well. Still it stood, unfazed, snapping its huge claws repeatedly at Koman as the slayer deftly fended off its blows, aided by quick parries from Yannus' pole-arm. It was inevitable, however, that Koman would eventually be just a hair too slow. One claw thrust forward and clamped around his waist, crushing and cracking ribs. Before the crab could pull him into the water, however, he managed to pivot and wrench himself free, but he was bleeding freely.

Boris held his breath as Snorri Stone-Eye stalked towards his hiding place. He thought he was in the clear as the old pirate moved past him, but then Snorri turned, and stared right at the goblin with his one good eye. Boris moved quickly, tucking into a roll, but his wound slowed him, and he could not avoid Snorri's second blow. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the gleaming axe blade whistling towards him.

"Get back!" Kelda screamed as she rushed to Koman's aid. "Move!"
However, just as she reached the slayer, the crab smashed her to the the ground. Mazael and Haroldo began to move forward, but not before the crab seized Koman again, and lifted him bodily into the air. His scream was cut off as blood frothed from his mouth. The crab shook him violently, the cast him aside into the water, where he floated face-down, motionless.
Lucian, Shalelu and Piotr redoubled their ranged attacks, while Mazael and Haroldo hammered at the beast relentlessly until it finally collapsed.


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26 Calistril-27 Calistril, 4715 - Kalsgard

Koman was dead. That fact was indisputable, but the remaining Scions still had a job to do. The funeral barge was approaching, the smoke from its deck thickening, and Boris was still somewhere on board, presumably with Ulf Gormundr. Yannus solemnly draped Koman's cloak over his body, and then the companions boarded the kayaks and paddled out to the drifting long ship. They tied their kayaks to the bow and climbed aboard. Quickly, Yannus crossed to the burning coal bag and removed it from atop the oil flask.
"We need to move fast," he said to the others. "If this ship doesn't go up in flames soon, we're going to be getting a lot of Ulfen company."
They crossed to the pried-open hatch and peered down into the gloom below.
"Boris!" Yannus called. "Can you hear me?"
There was no reply...only the distant sound of clinking chains.
"Check that," Yannus instructed Haroldo, pointing to the shrouded body resting on the funeral pyre.
Haroldo crossed to the pyre and flung back the shroud. Beneath it was a wooden mannikin.
"Fake," he said.
"Well, I guess we have no choice but to see what's below," Yannus shrugged.

One-by-one they climbed down into the hold. It was positively claustrophobic by the time they all squeezed in. They could see through the various funerary treasures to the mast amid ships, but beyond that was a strange, rolling mist.
"Boris!" Yannus called again.
"Help me!" a voice called from somewhere in the mist. It was not Boris, but the accent was Varisian. Possibly Chelaxian? "There's a zombie in here! Watch out!"
As the voice faded, the sound of chains and heavy footsteps drew closer from the mist.
"There!" Kelda shouted, pointing. "I see something!"
Without waiting for an answer, the Ulfen woman drew her blade and charged towards the fog where she saw a shadowy form lurking. She swung at the figure, but her blade was caught and turned by the head of a great axe. Then, stepping out of the shadows, Snorri Stone-Eye short-hafted his weapon and buried the blade in Kelda's shoulder. She cried out, not only from the pain, but from horror as she felt a small piece of her soul leached away through the weapon.

Piotr, now able to see their opponent, conjured a cloud of black dancing motes around Snorri's head. The undead captain batted at them, annoyed, but then a blast of light exploded around him as Yannus hurled his own magic, hoping to blind his one good eye. When the light faded, however, Snorri born burn and scorch marks, but his vision did not seem to be impaired, as evidenced by the fact that he struck Kelda again, driving her almost to her knees. Then Haroldo was there, the big man's own blade hammering into the undead Ulfen. Piotr capitalized on the distraction by hurling an orb of fire at the draugr, but Snorri strode right through it, unmarked. Kelda scrambled to put some distance between herself and the captain, but she was too slow. Snorri's axe came down one final time, and Kelda did not rise again.

Mazael stepped up to support Haroldo, and Shalelu, her bow stowed and a short sword in her hand, moved in to flank. The three of them struck repeatedly at the draugr captain, but could not bring him down. Snorri dealt a pair of withering blows to Haroldo in turn, and though bleeding and pale, the blood-rager did not give ground. He raised his great sword and brought it down on Snorri Stone-Eye's neck. Finally, he collapsed, sea water and putrescence spilling out on the planks.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

They found Boris where he'd fallen, unconscious but stable, with the winged great helm resting on his head. He was disoriented after they revived him, but quickly got his bearings. Following the cries for help deeper into the hold, the companions found a very odd creature bound hand and foot...and tail. It resembled a human-sized ape, but its eyes were obviously intelligent.
"Thanks the gods!" the creature exclaimed when it saw them. "I thought that monster would be the end of me! Please, set me free!"
"Who...what...are you?" Yannus asked.
"My name is Neko," the creature replied. "I am a vanara."
"And how exactly did you come to be in this situation?" Yannus pressed
"I am...was...a circus performer," Neko said. "Perhaps you've heard of us? The Hellknight's Tent of Endless Pleasure, Leisure and Recreation, out of Cheliax. No? Anyway, we travel the region often, but not long after we came into the Ulfen lands, we were set upon by raiders. I fear the circus was destroyed, and most of my companions killed or scattered. I was taken captive and placed here as some sort of offering to that vile...thing! Please! Free me!"
"Enough talk," Boris grumbled as he drew a wakizashi and sliced the vanara's bonds.
"Thanks you!" Neko gushed. "You saved my life! Among my people, that means I owe you a life debt!"
"Whatever," Boris shrugged.

At that moment, a loud 'whump' sound came from the deck above, accompanied by the smell of smoke. Quickly, the companions ran for the hatch and pulled themselves back topside. The wooden bier had become fully alight and burned brightly at midship. Beyond it in the water, the heroes could see the kayaks that brought them there cut loose and drifting out of reach. Tied off at the stern of the ship were two large canoes, into which a group of six black-clad, masked figures were quickly clambering.
"We need to move!" Lucian shouted.
The oracle followed words with action, running full speed across the deck, and straight through the spreading flames, heedless of the burns he suffered. He closed the distance with the ninjas quickly, and was among them before they could react. Yannus, realizing that Lucian had just likely signed his own death warrant, followed after, but not before casting a spell of protection on himself to shield him from the fire. To everyone's surprise, Neko was the next to move. The monkey-boy leaped effortlessly over the fire, landed briefly on all fours, then leaped again, soaring over the heads of the startled ninjas, and landing nimbly in one of the canoes.
"Hmph," Boris snorted. "Boris can do that."
To prove his point, the goblin got a running start and hurtled the bonfire. He landed in a full run, then dodged and rolled among the legs of the ninjas before reaching the bow railing, and then hopping into the canoe next to Neko.
"Well done, Master!" Neko grinned.
"Boris not your Master," Boris scowled.

The ninjas may have been taken aback by the boldness of their quarry, but they recovered quickly. Two of them ran to the bow, unlimbered short bows, and began firing at Neko and Boris. Two more closed in on Lucian, trying to force him over the side of the boat, while the final pair flanked Yannus, one of them driving a wickedly pointed stake-like weapon into the priest's belly. Then, a flash of light and glitter exploded around three of the ninjas, temporarily blinding them. Yannus glanced over his shoulder, and nodded his appreciation at Piotr. He nodded again, this time at Shalelu, when a pair of arrows sprouted from the throat of one of his assailants, sending the ninja tumbling over the rail.

Haroldo, Kelda's body slung over one shoulder. lumbered like an angry bear across the deck of the barge. As he ran, he allowed his rage to fuel him, unlocking his latent magic, this time in the form of fire resistance, as it rose. He barreled through the flames and through the ninjas, leaping into the canoe with Boris and Neko, setting it rocking dangerously. Behind him, Lucian, being pressed precariously close to the rail by his two attackers, turned and jumped, landing clumsily, but safely in the second, empty canoe. He then turned, drew back his bow, and fired a deadly shot into one of the blind assassins, dropping the ninja instantly. Yannus struck another of the blind killers, and as that one spun away, groping, Neko, now with a bow in his hands as well, fired three arrows into him, killing him. Boris shot the last of the blind ninjas, killing him as well, leaving only two still standing. Shalelu and Lucian combined their arrows to slay one, while Yannus, with an assist from Piotr's magic missiles, took down the last.

The flames continued to spread, and now pieces of the deck began to collapse. Yannus heaved three of the dead ninjas into Lucian's canoe before following himself. Mazael pulled a flask from his belt pouch, drank it, then lifted into the air, taking flight. He flew to the canoe with Lucian and Yannus, and they tossed him a rope up. He then towed the boat around to the bow of the barge, allowing Shalelu and Piotr to climb aboard. With everyone safe, the companions paddled their vessels back to the shore of Spear-Shaker Point.

__________________________________________________________________________

Beneath their masks, the dead ninja were all Tian, both male and female. The only identifying item on them was a small, jade statue of a raven that each carried.
"This just gets better and better," Mazael growled. "First we got vikings trying to kills us, and now ninjas! And we still haven't found the sword or the actual viking we're looking for!"
"We have more immediate concerns," Yannus said quietly as his eyes fell to the bodies of Kelda and his brother. "Kelda never mentioned family here in Kalsgard, other than her fellow raiders. She was a brave and honorable companion, and I think we should lay her to rest in the Ulfen way."
"What? Burn her and all her gear up on a boat?" Mazael snapped. "Seems a waste."
"We'll remember that if you ever get killed," Lucian smirked.
"Yeah, you do that, knife-ear," the war priest sneered.
"What about your brother?" Piotr asked Yannus.
"We're taking him back to the caravan," the priest replied. "We can use the power of the Seal to resurrect him."
"Wait!" Lucian cried. "If we do that, if we open the Seals warding box, then we risk exposing it's location to the Five Storms!"
"Wait, lemme get this straight," Mazael chuckled and shook his head at Lucian. "You get all weepy and bent out of shape about taking potentially useful gear off a stranger we met on the road, but when it comes to doing something meaningful for one of our own, you're gonna cry foul?"
"I'm just saying," Lucian sighed, "that we need to consider all of our options, and the risks involved."
"The only option," Yannus said with a note of finality,"is to bring my brother back from the dead if we have the power to do so. We will, of course, discuss this with Ameiko, but I feel certain that she'll agree."

They secured Kelda and her belongings in one of the canoes. Then, after stacking it high with driftwood, they set it ablaze and pushed it out to see. So passed Kelda Oxgutter.
The Scions then made their way back to the gates of Kalsgard, whereupon they were immediately stopped by the city guard.
"What's all this then?" one of them said, indicating Koman's body slung over Haroldo's shoulder.
"He's my brother," Yannus explained. "We were traveling up the coast when we were set upon by an enormous crab."
"Sounds like a shark-eater," the guard nodded. "Fair amount of them in these waters."
"Show him, Boris," Yannus instructed.
Boris dutifully hauled a hunk of crabmeat as large as he was out of his pack.
"We managed to slay it," Yannus said, "but not before it killed my brother."
"Dangerous outside the city walls," the guard said soberly. "You have my sympathies. Where are you taking him?"
"To our caravan in the Bone Quarter," Yannus replied. "To prepare him for burial."

Koya was grief-stricken when she saw Koman's body and heard what had transpired. Sandru was grim-faced, but silent.
"We will use the Seal," Ameiko suggested immediately, even before Yannus had a chance to suggest it himself.
"I had hoped you would say as much," Yannus said, gratefully. "Though I know you are aware of the risk."
"If I am not willing to make sacrifices for my friends and family," Ameiko replied, "then what is the point of making this journey at all?"
She brought out the warding box and opened it, exposing the Seal. She drew it forth and rested it upon Koman's chest. It pulsed once with emerald light, and then became dormant again. Nothing changed. Then, each of the Scions gasped as their eyes rolled back in their heads, overcome with another vision. This time it was of Koman, standing in a sun-drenched, wooded glade, a peaceful smile on his face.
'Continue the journey, my friends,' he spoke to all of them. 'I'm staying behind. Know that I have no regrets, and you have my blessing. Go with Desna, and may the road rise up to greet you.'
The vision faded, and they all knew implicitly that Koman was well and truly gone.

Koya was understandably saddened, and disappointed, but she respected her son's decision. As was the Varsian way, his family, Yannus, Sandru, and herself, would divide up his possessions. For his part, Sandru took only the wayfinder Koman had found in the dungeons of Brinewall. The kami-possessed sash that Koman had worn was now inert, it's spirit departed. Koya said she would prepare him for his final rest, but that she would wait to bury him until they were back on the road again, as was the practice among Desnans.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

The following morning, with no other leads to follow, the Scions headed back to the Jade Quarter and the shrine of Shellyn. That was where Uksahkka had told them to meet her after they had rescued Ulf from the funeral barge. The fact that he had not, in fact, been rescued was beside the point. There were few options. Neko accompanied them, having attached himself to Boris, and with nowhere else to go. As they made their way through the crowded streets, they could not fail to notice the ubiquitous ravens that followed them everywhere they went. At one point, Mazael glanced over his shoulder.
"Don't look now," he said, "but I think we picked up a tail. He's been with us for a few blocks now, hanging back and trying to look inconspicuous."
"Don't worry," Boris smiled. "Boris handle this."
"I'll come with you, Master," Neko said excitedly.
"Stop saying that!" Boris snapped. "You no come. Boris very sneaky."
"I can be sneaky too!" Neko hopped up and down. "Please take me with you! Pleeeeaaase!"
Boris sighed and grumbled. "Fine, but if you get Boris in trouble, Boris will be very unhappy."
"Boris," Yannus said, "remember, we don't want to cause a scene. We are trying to go unnoticed."
"Don't worry," the goblin grinned, "nobody see Boris unless Boris want to be seen."

Boris and Neko dropped back through the crowds and made their way around the block, trying to get behind their follower. As they rounded the last corner, they spotted him just a few yards ahead. It was a boy, Tian, not more than a teenager. Boris eased forward, slipping a dagger from his belt as he went. Neko's eyes went wide when he saw it, but he said nothing. When Boris reached the boy, he placed one hand on his shoulder, and pushed the tip of his blade gently against his back. He felt the boy stiffen.
"You be good boy, now," Boris whispered in his ear, "and tell Boris why you following his friends."
"Please," the boy said, fear in his voice. "Don't hurt me! The hooded man...he paid me to follow you and leave notes!"
"What man look like?" Boris asked. "Where you leave notes?"
"I never saw his face!" the boy said. "I swear! He told me to leave the notes under a specific barrel on the docks!"
Boris was silent for a moment, then he withdrew his dagger and put it away.
"Good boy," he said. "Now you do something for Boris. Boris pay you gold to keep putting notes under barrel, but you say Boris and his friends leaving town. Going south to Sandpoint to bury other friend. Ok?"
The boy nodded furiously.
"Boris trust you, boy," the goblin said, "but Boris also know if you not do what you say. Run home now."
He released his grip on the boy, who promptly vanished into the crowd.

___________________________________________________________________________

As they traveled deeper into the Jade Quarter, the Scions passed a blind beggar on a street corner. In and of itself, this was not unusual, as the neighborhood was full of such unfortunates, but as they walked past, he called out.
"They know who you are, and are coming for you!"
Yannus held his hand up for the others to stop.
"What do you mean, old man?" he asked. "Who is coming for us?"
"I do not know," the beggar shrugged. "This is what I was told to say."
"By whom?" Yannus asked. "You're blind. How could you know to whom you were to deliver your message?"
The old man shrugged again. "I was only told to wait for someone who smelled like cabbage. Then I was to deliver that message. He paid me two coppers."
He shook the coins in his bowl for emphasis.
"Cabbage?" Mazael looked confused.
Boris sniffed the air, then turned towards Piotr. He leaned closer and sniffed at the sorcerer's robes.
"Boris smell cabbage," the goblin announced.
Piotr looked skeptical and sniffed under his arms.
"I don't smell anything," he said.
"You no cook," Boris said.
"And you're not blind," the beggar added.
"May I see your coins?" Yannus asked the man
He held his bowl up, and the priest examined the pair of coppers.
"Minkai," Yannus said.

___________________________________________________________________________ _

Finally, the Scions turned the corner onto the street where Shellyn's shrine lay. Suddenly, the sounds of screams and the crashing of tumbling masonry rolled down the street over the normal noises of the crowd. Ahead, above the press, the shrine slowly swayed and collapsed into the street, dumping the facade of stone and mortared brick on those unfortunates below, resulting another wave of screams of pain and fear. As the companions watched in horror, some...thing stepped out of the wreckage. It was twice the size of a man, and twice as broad, but appeared to be entirely made of earth and stone.

Mazael and Haroldo were in motion as the twangs of Neko's and Lucian's bows sounded from behind them. On the heels of those arrows, streaks of glowing missiles flew from Piotr's hands. When the blood rager and the war priest reached the elemental, they began hammering it from both sides, sending chunks of debris flying in all directions. Suddenly, one pile driver-like fist from the behemoth smashed down on Haroldo, sending the big man staggering back. Yannus was there to take his place, however, stabbing with his glaive. The creature shuddered under the steady barrage, and eventually crumbled. As it fell, however, it abruptly vanished into thin air. Piotr quickly began to scan the area, knowing what this meant: the elemental had been summoned.
"There!" he shouted, pointing towards a nearby rooftop.
The others followed his gaze, and just caught sight of the large, blood-feathered raven as it took flight and disappeared over the roof line.

"We have to find Yin-Po!" Yannus cried as he rushed into the wreckage of the shrine.
It didn't take much searching to find the old priest. He was unconscious, but seemed largely uninjured. Yannus laid his hands upon him, infusing his own divine power. Slowly, Yin-Po's eyes fluttered open.
"What happened here, Master Po?" Yannus asked.
"I...I'm not sure," the old man said, sitting up carefully. "An earth elemental appeared out of nowhere and attacked. I was caught off guard and could not stop it."
"Where is Uksahkka?" Yannus asked.
Yin-Po's eyes grew wide as the younger priest helped him to his feet.
"She...she was in the safe room," he said, "behind the shrine! Come, we must see to her safety!"

All of them rushed into the alley in back of the ruined building. There they found what had obviously been a hidden door, but it had been smashed in from the outside. Within was an empty cellar. There was no sign of violence, but Ukshakka was nowhere to be found. A search of the room revealed only one clue: a large, black feather lying in a corner. It was much too large to be that of a normal raven, or even the large, blood-feathered raven. Another mystery.

"Now what?" Mazael asked. "We've got no sword, no guide, and now no vharki girl."
The others all looked at one another, none of them having a ready answer. Suddenly, all eyes turned to Boris.
"What?" the goblin asked suspiciously. "What you looking at?"
The he felt it. The elaborate Ulfen helmet he'd been wearing ever since he'd found it on the funeral barge was moving. It's wings were flapping, and it rose slowly off his head. It hovered in the air for a moment, and then flapped over to Mazael and settled upon his brow. Then, as if things could not get any stranger, the helmet began to speak.
"Greetings fellow Travellers," it said in a high-pitched, melodic voice. "I am Helgarval. I am an agent of the Desna, a cassisian angel. I was summoned to this plane to serve a powerful priest of my Lady, but my master met an unfortunate end. Since then, I have been attempting to do good deeds while I am stranded here, so that my betters may take notice of me and return me to my home in Elysium. In my years here, I have learned of the presence of a group of evil creatures in Kalsgard known as oni. These beings are part of an organization known as the Five Storms, and their agents here are part of a guild of thieves and assassins known as the Frozen Shadows. In turn, this group hides behind the facade of a powerful trading consortium called the Rimerunner's Guild. The head of this guild is a woman named Thorborg Silverskorr. Her close associate and advisor is a local spellcaster called Goti Runecaster, and he, in turn, has a certain familiar...a blood-feather raven. Do you see?"
"I believe we do," Yannus smiled grimly. "How did you come to be on the funeral barge?"
"I learned that Snorri Stone-Eye was also affiliated with the Rimerunner's Guild," Helgarval replied, "so I stowed away on his ship to try and find more information, but I became trapped there. When your little goblin friend came aboard, I was at first suspicious. When I saw how bravely he fought, however foolish it may have been, I did what I could for him. My divine aura protected him from the draugr, keeping it from killing him outright."
"Talking hat save Boris?" Boris asked, bewildered.
"Indeed," the helm answered, "but I cannot stay with you. This one is also a follower of Desna, and so my path lies with him if he will have me."
Mazael smiled wickedly.
"Welcome aboard, partner!" he laughed.
"Well," Yannus said to his companions, "I suppose we have a guild hall to investigate."


27 Calistril, 4715-1 Pharast, 4715

"Before everybody charge into guild hall, Boris think we need more information," Boris suggested helpfully as the Scions mulled over their next course of action.
"I agree with Master," Neko chimed in, earning him an irritated look from Boris.
"That's actually not a bad idea," Piotr said. "As you know, I have some experience with the merchant clans. I can ask around some of the local shops about this Thorborg Silverskorr."
"And I'm sure there's a tavern somewhere near the Rimerunner's joint," Mazael grinned. "Merchants like to drink, and as luck would have it, so do I. I don't mind staking out a spot near the guild hall, tipping a few pints back, and getting the lay of the land"
Yannus couldn't argue the wisdom in the plan, so he nodded his agreement.
"Very well. Haroldo, Lucian and I will go and resupply in the mean time," he said. "We'll meet back at the inn in a couple of hours. Remember, we are still trying to go unnoticed."

___________________________________________________________________________ _

The Scions parted and went their separate ways. Neko and Boris decided to continue their investigation in the Jade Quarter. Immigrant populations, in Boris's own experience as one, tended to notice many things while largely going unnoticed by the majority. They didn't find out much more about the Frozen Shadows than Helgarval had already told them. It seemed that the thieves' guild had come to power several years ago, and its members were rumored to have almost supernatural abilities in stealth and assassination. They often left a large black feather as a calling card. No one knew where they were headquartered, however.

As the pair made their way through the crowded streets, a large Ulfen warrior, reeking of ale, bumped rudely into Boris. Acting purely on instinct, Boris's hand went immediately to the big man's belt and snatched off his coin purse. The Ulfen seized the goblin's wrist as it withdrew, however.
"Hah!" he bellowed. "First you poison my dog, and now you try and steal my purse!?"
"What?" Boris asked, genuinely perplexed. "Dog? Boris no kill dog. Dog meat too stringy."
"Liar!" the Ulfen shouted. "The hooded man told me it was you! I demand wereguild! You owe me 50 gold crowns!"
Boris peeked inside the coin purse he still had clutched in has hand. Ten coins lay within.
"Here," Boris offered the purse back. "You take ten crowns. Deal?"
"Those are my own coins!" the big man snarled. "You're a thief and a dog-killer!"
By this time a large crowd had gathered, and parted, forming a circle around the confrontation.
"Look," Boris said placatingly, "Boris already tell you, Boris no kill any dog. Boris offer you coins that Boris find. Still, you no happy, so, Boris only see one way out of this."
The goblin's twin wakizashi's were suddenly in his hands, and he thrust both of them towards the Ulfen's gut. To his shock and amazement, the large man moved with surprising speed and agility, deflecting the blows so that, instead of striking anything vital, they only grazed him. Then, the warrior swung his battleaxe in a broad arc, slashing across Boris's belly.
"Master!" Neko cried.
The varran turned, dropping to all fours and ran towards the nearest building, and then scampering nimbly up the wall. When he reached a wooden support beam, he wrapped his tail around it and hung beneath it, gripping his bow in his hands. He knocked and release, sending an arrow into the Ulfen's backside. The man roared, and Boris took the opportunity to leap away. He darted around a corner, and ducked behind a trash bin, trying to make himself inconspicuous. With Neko out of his reach, the Ulfen warrior charged around the corner after Boris, his eyes darting this way and that. Boris shifted slightly, but it was enough, and his opponents eyes fell upon him. He raised his swords to defend himself, but it was fruitless. The battleaxe fell and Boris went down.
"Master, no!!" Neko shrieked.
His hands moved so fast, they blurred, sending arrow after arrow into the Ulfen, but still the brute stood. He moved to the building, right beneath Neko, drew a handaxe from his belt, and hurled it at the varran. It hit Neko in the thigh, and stuck there, but still he continued to fire, until finally, the big man groaned and collapsed to the ground.

Neko didn't waste any time. He scrambled back to the ground, darted over the Boris, hefted the goblin over one shoulder, and then raced up the side and to the roof of another building. He fished out several healing potions from his pack and forced them down Boris's throat until the goblin's eyes opened and he sputtered.
"Shhh," Neko put one finger to his lips. "Policemen below!"
Boris looked down to the street and saw that several constables had indeed arrived on the scene and were gathered around the body of the Ulfen warrior.
"No," Boris snapped. "Boris earned this! No let cops take away!"

The pair of them climbed back down to street level, and cautiously approached the constables, hands empty and upraised.
"Are you responsible for this?" the head constable asked, drawing his sword and pointing it at Boris.
"No," Boris shook his head. "That man responsible. Boris and friend just defending ourselves. Big man say Boris kill dog, then try to kill Boris. Ask people," he indicated the crowd, "they tell you same."
"We already asked," the constable said, "and they confirm your story, but they also said this man accused you of picking his pocket."
"No, no, no," Boris said as he deftly tossed the stolen purse into a nearby sewer, "this all mistake. Boris no kill dog, and Boris no take money. Big man want Boris's money. Ask for werewolf or something."
"Wereguild," the constable corrected. "Compensation for wrong-doing."
"Oh?" Boris cocked his head. "Then Boris deserve werewolf for big man trying to kill him."
The constable seemed to consider this.
"You are a goblin, correct?" the man asked.
"...yes," Boris answered carefully.
"And don't goblins carry weapons called dog-slicers?" the officer asked.
"That very racist," Boris huffed. "Not all goblins same, just like not all Ulfens have relations with their sisters, like Boris hear. You search Boris. You no find dog-slicer, dog meat, or stolen purse! Now Boris want werewolf!"
"Fine, fine," the constable raised his hands in annoyance, "but this man is dead. What exactly do you want?"
Boris thought about it.
"That nice axe," he pointed out. "Boris take that."

_________________________________________________________________________

A short time later, with a tidy profit from the sale of the battleaxe, Boris and Neko walked into an orphanage located in the Jade Quarter. Having already given half the proceeds to Neko for saving his life, Boris presented the other half, 500 gold crowns, to the astonished headmistress of the facility.
"For little ones," he explained. "You give to them so they no have to take coins from bad men on streets. Tell them gift from Boris."

And this was born the legend of St. Boris, later to become known as Santa, whereupon every 27th of Calistril, gifts were given to children in memory and celebration of selfless charity.

_________________________________________________________________________

The companions regrouped in the common room of their inn in the Bone Quarter later that afternoon. Piotr reported that he had learned that the Rimerunners Guild specialized in trade with Tian Xia over the Crown of the World as well as along the rivers of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. They were extremely influential in and around Kalsgard, with many local merchants and their retainers, and much of the local economy beholden to them. Thorborg Silverskorr, the leader of the guild, was a merchant of high repute, though she was rarely seen in public. She had numerous connections with the wealthy and powerful of Kalsgard, including Linnorm King Sveinn Blood-Eagle himself.
Mazael gathered from his hours of watching and drinking, that the guild hall was well-guarded, with at least a dozen soldiers patrolling the grounds, and more than twice that in city constables within haling distance.
Then Boris told what he learned, of his and Neko's adventures. He described the altercation with the Ulfen warrior, but left about the part about the man's demise and their run-in with local law enforcement.

The group decided that their next move would be to go to the Rimerunners' hall and see what they could find out, but when they stopped by their rooms upstairs first, however, they found one of the chambers had been completely ransacked. There was no evidence that the room had been forcibly broken into, but a quick search revealed that the window was unlocked, and another large raven feather was found under the detritus. Yannus declared that they were no longer safe at the inn, and could not stay there. The Scions returned to the caravan and told their friends what they had learned, and what happened. Sandru was concerned that their presence with the caravan would attract more attention, but ultimately realized that there was strength in numbers.

_________________________________________________________________________

The Rimerunners guild hall was a fairly nondescript two story structure in the Jade Quarter. Just as Mazael described, several guards patrolled the perimeter of the grounds, and numerous constables were visible within a block as well. The companions approached the front door, where an armed guardsman stood. He looked at them appraisingly, taking note of the numerous weapons that were visible.
"No weapons allowed," he stated flatly.
"We are here to demand wereguild," Yannus spoke up. "Assassins affiliated with your organization have attacked us on several occasions, and we have proof!"
He held up one of the large raven feathers. The guard stared at him.
"You people need to move along before I call the constables," he said.
"We demand to speak with your guildmistress, Thorborg Silverskorr," Yannus persisted.
"Seriously," the guard repeated, "move along. This is your last warning."
"Pardon me, Sir," Piotr stepped in, "but what my companion is trying to say, is that we represent a legitimate business concern whose interests have been jeopardized. We have reason to believe that perhaps one or more rogue members of your guild may be involved. We would very much like to speak with one of your factors to resolve this situation."
The guard turned to regard him.
"Wait here a moment," he said, then turned and entered the building.

Meanwhile, no one had noticed that Boris and Neko had slipped away. The pair made their way around the building to the back, where they found another guard posted at a rear entrance. Hiding behind a large trash bin, Boris tossed a coin towards the far corner. The guard turned, and moved that direction. Quickly, Boris moved to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. He darted back to Neko and motioned him to follow. Quietly and unseen, the returned to the others.

The guard returned a moment later.
"You may enter," he said to Piotr, "but you must go unarmed. You may bring two others with you, but they must be unarmed as well."
Piotr turned to the others, and was not surprised to see to see Boris with his hand up, and Neko grinning beside him. The sorcerer sighed and nodded. Neko dropped his bow and quiver, and Boris unstrapped his wakizashi's, but he did palm a dagger up his sleeve, which nobody noticed.
Once inside, a long counter ran across the front of the main room. Brass bars extended from the counter to the ceiling, with only small teller windows allowing transfer of items. A locked gate blocked access behind the counter. A wooden railing surrounded the elevated floor behind the counter. Several clerks sat in front of the teller windows, while a pair of guild factors sat at desks in the raised area. Two more armed guards occupied the room. The guard escorting Piotr, Boris and Neko moved to the locked gate and opened it with a key, then indicated that they should go through. For a moment, Neko hesitated. The brass bars were too similar to the cages he'd spent much of his life in during his time with the circus. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he was determined not to let his master down, so he swallowed hard and followed Boris.

The trio was escorted into a back hall, and then into a small conference room where another guild factor sat scribbling on some forms with a quill pen. When they entered, he looked up at them over the top of his glasses.
"I understand you have some sort of grievance," he said.
Piotr told his tale, leaving out sensitive details regarding their true reasons for being in Kalsgard.
When he was done, the factor regarded him in silence for a long while.
"We are a legitimate and well respected organization," he said at length. "These are serious charges you have levied. I cannot, in good conscience, lend them credence."
Piotr nodded.
"I understand," he said, "you are simply doing your job, and I am certain you have no knowledge of these things. My concern, however, is that you may have unsavory individuals involved in nefarious dealings that seek to besmirch the reputation of your prestigious guild. Is there any way for us to gain an audience with your guildmistress to try and bring this to light?"
The factor considered this again, then leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.
"You did not hear this from me," he said, "but Thorborg Silverskorr purchased an old hall outside of town called Ravenscraeg two years ago from a man named Snorri Stone-Eye."
"Didn't he just recently pass away?" Piotr asked.
"Why yes," the factor nodded. "In fact, his funeral was just yesterday. In any event, the guildmistress has been spending a great deal of the guild's money on refurbishing and developing the building. Nobody knows exactly what's going on there, but based on the funds involved, the secrecy surrounding the project, and her personal involvement, it must be something big for the guild's future! That's really all that I can tell you."
"Thank you," Piotr bowed. "You've been most helpful."

_______________________________________________________________________

It didn't take too long for the Scions to dig up more information about Ravenscraeg. It was indeed the former hall of the Mad Reaver Snorri Stone-Eye, and it was so-named because it lay high among the rocky crags south of Kalsgard, accessible only to the eponymous ravens that roosted atop its ridgepole. It lay two days walk south of the city, in the hills near Grungir Forest.

The companions returned to the caravan to make preparations, and to let Ameiko and the others know what they had discovered. Their friends wished them well, and to travel with caution, but Spivey insisted that they take her along. The little priestess had grown restive being enclosed in the large metropolis for so many days, and she longed to spread her wings and get back on the road. The Scions could not argue that she would be a great asset with her healing skills and divine powers, so no one objected.

The following morning, the set out afoot, leaving Kalsgard behind as they journeyed into the boggy lowlands. As they neared the end of their first day of travel, the trail they followed wound its way through green marsh. Swaying cattails grew thick in a shallow pool beside the muddy path, and tiny colorful flowers dotted the water's surface. Suddenly, Mazael drew back as a piece of the marsh seemingly rose up and struck out at him. It looked like a transparent pseudopod covered in mud and debris. As the others watched in shock, and horror, the entire pool began to rise up, higher and higher, towering over their heads. Boris was the first to act, loosing an arrow into the amorphous blob. The shaft pierced the ooze and traveled straight through it, splitting it neatly in half...and then there were two! Haroldo drew his greatsword and hacked at one of the undulating masses, and cleaved it in two as well, making three of the aberrations.
"Stop hitting it!" Yannus shouted. "It's not working!"
Spivey, flitting about the heads of her companions, held up one hand, and a soft, muted light gathered around it. Then she hurled it at one of the blobs, and when it struck, the ooze recoiled, a large scorch mark on its translucent skin.
Then, one of the oozes lunged towards Neko. The monkey-boy shrieked and scrambled backwards, but one tendril wrapped around his leg and drew him towards the mass, squeezing and burning him. Piotr hurled magic missiles at the blob, sending shivers through it, but still it held on to the struggling varra. In frustration, forgetting Yannus' warning, Mazael swung his sword at the ooze, causing it to split a fourth time. Cursing, Yannus drew a vial of alchemical fire from his pack and threw it at the section of the blob still holding Neko. It struck and burst into flames, and the creature shriveled into black char, setting the monkey-boy free.
Boris, suddenly remembering an unfortunate experience he'd had while wandering through the sewers beneath Sandpoint, called out to the others.
"Hit jelly monster with sticks and clubs, no pointy things! Then it not make more!"
Haroldo took his meaning, and swapped his sword for a flail he kept in his belt, and went to work on the largest remaining ooze. Spivey and Piotr assisted him with their magic. Yannus drew a morningstar and attacked a second ooze, and Neko drew blunted arrows from his quiver and began firing at the last. In short orders, all of the blobs had been destroyed, and silence descended once more over the marsh.

_______________________________________________________________________

By the end of the following day, the companions had reached the foothills. They rose sharply ahead into a steep and craggy shale escarpment hundreds of feet high. Tucked into a narrow defile between two of those crags was a stone-and-timber longhall and tower, weathered and gray. The hall stood nearly one-hundred feet above the base of the cliff, with only a single wooden stair climbing in a series of switchbacks up the cliff face to its front gate. All was silent save for the raucous caws of the ravens that congregated atop the hall's tower and ridgepole high above.

When they reached the base of the crag, the found themselves staring up at a rickety wooden stair built from timber planks, silver with age. In some places above, the stairs and landings were secured directly to the rock face, and in others they hung free upon wooden supports and buttresses driven into the rock. Lichens and moss covered the stairs and rocks, with pale vines, roots, and blooms of nightshade, willowherb, and bog tea sprouting from occasional crevices in the stone. Single file, the Scions began to climb...all save Boris. The little goblin fished around in his pouch and drew out three flaccid bladders. He twisted valves on their necks, and they rapidly inflated, filling with air. He tied a rope around the bunch, then handed the other end of the rope to Neko, who gripped it with his tail. Boris grabbed the rope and let the balloons lift him into the air, where he hovered above Neko, who began scrambling up the rock wall, keeping pace with the others as they climbed the stairs.

By the time they reached the fourth landing, the group was fifty-feet above the ground below. A short flight of stairs rose to the landing, which abutted the cliff face. A small hollow in the rock was plastered over with what looked like a huge wasp nest. Before Mazael, who was in the lead, could step onto the landing, the plaster began to crack and splinter as something huge emerged. The creature was the size of a horse, with the head of a spider, a giant stinger, and two long arms tipped with wickedly sharp pincers. It lunged towards Mazael, but the warpriest met its charge and slashed his falchion across its abdomen at the same time it sank its mandibles into his shoulder. From behind him, Piotr sent magic missiles at the beast, and Spivey invoked her starlight blast, dazzling the creature's multi-faceted eyes. Yannus thrust his glaive over Mazael's shoulder, driving it into the insect's thorax, but still it would not retreat. Rising into the air on its wings, its stinger flashed forward and impaled Mazael's chest. Instantly, he went rigid as every muscle in his body seized up, paralyzed. The giant spider-eater moved in for the kill.

As the battle raged, Boris began to let out the rope attached to his balloons, rising higher above the fray, until he was almost level with the final landing and the gates of the hall. Suddenly, a quick movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw several black-clad figures crouched behind the railing of the landing. As he watched in dismay, they raised blow guns to their mouths and sent a volley of darts flying at his balloons.

Mazael saw his death approaching, and he couldn't do a thing about it. He could hear Helgarvarl shouting at him to move, but he couldn't. Then, just as he sent his final prayer to Desna, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder, and a whisper in his ear.
"Not yet, traveller," Spivey said, and at her touch, he was suddenly free again.
The war priest stepped back just as the spider eater struck, and then a flurry of arrows from Neko, and glowing, streaking missiles from Piotr shattered the monster's carapace, and sent it tumbling over the railing.

Just then, a piercing scream drew all eyes upward, where the unmistakable form of a falling goblin grew larger and larger as it dropped towards them. Abruptly, Boris' plummet arrested, and he floated gently down the last few yards, a broken, ceramic leaf in his hands where he'd managed to reach and crack open a magical snap-leaf. The charm simultaneously made him light as a feather, and rendered him temporarily invisible. As he landed softly on the stairs and began to fade from view, he found his breath enough to speak.
"Sneaky ninja-killers waiting for us. Boris think it's on now!"


This now brings us officially up to date with our current games. From this point on I will be posting weekly updates after each of our game sessions


An excellent journal thus far. I'm surprised no encounters with the blood oath curse yet. Eager for more.


So far this group hasn't been much on taking prisoners. They are feeling fairly affronted by the multiple attempts on their lives, and mercy isn't a high priority.


Joseph Jolly wrote:
So far this group hasn't been much on taking prisoners. They are feeling fairly affronted by the multiple attempts on their lives, and mercy isn't a high priority.

Gotta admit, from both sides of the screen, nothing gets players more vengeful than being directly targeted. My own players, like yours, just freaked out when their room was ransacked.


1 person marked this as a favorite.

2 Pharast, 4715

Despite Boris' forewarning, the companions had no choice but to continue up the switchback staircase. Mazael took the lead, with the others following single-file, save for Neko, who continued to scale the wall, and Spivey, who flew along beside him. Boris, still invisible from his snap leaf, brought up the rear. They made it to the final stair, and Mazael had just reached the uppermost landing, when the trap was sprung.

Mazael looked around the landing, but saw no sign of the ninjas...until they seemed to materialize out of thin air all around him. Unlike the human ninjas they had faced aboard Snorri Stone-Eye's funeral barge, these assassins had heads of great, black ravens. They wielded wakizashi swords, and before Mazael could react, one of them slashed at him, opening a wicked wound across his belly. The wound burned, far more than it should have, and the war priest felt a sudden fatigue and weakness suffuse him...poison.

On the lower landing, Lucian, who had just mounted the stairs, heard the commotion coming from above. At that moment, however, another trio of ninjas appeared around him, and he had his hands full. He was struck twice in rapid succession before he managed to leap off the stairs and back onto the landing, putting a few precious feet between himself and his attackers. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, all six of the ninjas vanished again, only to reappear a moment later, surrounding Mazael and Lucian once more, continuing to cut and stab at the two heroes.

"That's enough of that," Piotr muttered from his position midway up the stairs.
He waggled his fingers, and a burst of golden, glittering dust exploded around the three ninjas on the upper landing, causing two of them to claw and rub at their eyes as they were temporarily blinded. Just then, Spivey rose into the air at the opposite side of the upper landing, and seeing the trio of assassins momentarily disoriented, she used Desna's power to set off a concussive blast in the midst of them, stunning all three. Behind her, Neko clambered over the railing, snatched up his bow, and quickly dropped one of the lurching ninjas with a pair of well-placed arrows.

Down below, Lucian popped a snap leaf of his own. He'd learned a thing or two from Boris' impressive ability to survive against long odds. He disappeared and used his moment of respite to tend his wounds. A moment later, another flash of glitterdust filled the area, and now his three assailants stood blind and disoriented. Then Haroldo lumbered down the stairs, his sword swinging in wide arcs. With the tide suddenly turned, Lucian put his bow to use, and between the big blood-rager and himself, the three ninjas didn't last long.

Mazael, though still reeling from the poison in his system, managed to put down one of the still-blind assassins, and then Yannus was behind him, impaling the last one with his glaive. Just as Mazael was about to lose consciousness, Spivey was at his side. She pulled several rolled parchments from her small pack, spoke a prayer as she read them, and then the war-priest felt a wave of rejuvenation flow over him.
"Thank you," he said as he climbed to his feet.
"Travelers must stick together," Spivey smiled.
"Indeed," Helgarvarl agreed from atop Mazael's brow.

___________________________________________________________________________

The gates leading into Ravenscraeg were unlocked. Beyond them lay an enormous long hall, rows of pillars supporting the forty-foot high roof. Torches set into the pillar sconces, and two fire pits set with iron spits in the center of the rush-strewn floor gave the room a ruddy glow. Several doors opened into rooms on either side beneath ten-foot high balconies lined with feasting tables. At the far end of the hall, a fifteen-foot high balcony with master's high table looked out over all. Smoke holes cut into the roof high above allowed in more light, and the croaking of the many ravens that roosted on the roof's ridgepole.
"There is evil here," Helgarvarl announced. "I can sense it."
"Where?" Mazael asked, crouching and looking all around as if he expected to be attacked again at any moment.
"There," the helmet said after a moment. "On the balconies."
"Well, let's not keep them waiting," Yannus said.

The companions turned towards a short flight of stairs that led to one of the balconies, moving carefully, though fully aware that whatever enemies awaited them likely knew of their approach. As Mazael set his foot upon the first riser, however, the air around them suddenly exploded into a cacophony of raucous squawks and the beating of dark wings. From the roof and rafters above, hundreds of ravens descended into the hall, splitting into four large swarms. They surrounded the heroes, wings beating at their heads, beaks digging into flesh, and talons raking at their eyes. Lucian managed to hurl a vial of alchemical fire at the horde just before they struck in full, setting a dozen or so of the birds ablaze, but not stopping the assault.
"I can't see!" Mazael roared, clawing at his eyes, which bled profusely.
Haroldo just bellowed incoherently as his own sight went dim with blood and pain, and vertigo overwhelmed him, leaving him doubled over and retching. Neko became disoriented by the chaos, trying to see in all directions at once as he aimed with his bow, until finally he just gave up and ran for a corner of the room, his hands covering his head. Yannus whirled his glaive around his head, slashing many ravens from the air, but it was like trying kill a swarm of wasps just by waving your hands. It wasn't making a difference. Finally, it was Piotr who managed to give them a little breathing room. The sorcerer turned and touched his thumbs together, fingers spread wide. A cone of fire shot from his fingertips and engulfed the birds, completely consuming two of the swarms.

Haroldo, charging about blindly, inadvertently stumbling up the stairs and onto the balcony, smashing through several tables and chairs before coming to a stop. He leaned over, the nausea leaving him, trying to catch his breath. He sensed something, a prickle on the back of his neck. Though he could not see, he sniffed the air and cocked his head. A faint hint of spice on the air. A soft rustle of cloth. Instinctively, he ducked and pivoted, dodging to one side. He heard and felt blades hiss through the air around him, missing him by only inches. He was surrounded.

As Piotr celebrated his victory, he heard a low whistle behind him, and then felt a sharp pain lance through his back. He reached around, and felt the wooden shaft of an arrow protruding. He turned to see where it had come from, and saw, on the opposite balcony, three black-clad forms kneeling behind the railing, bows in hand. As he watched, one of them loosed a second arrow, and this one found Mazael, still blind and reeling from the raven attack.
"Behind us!" he shouted, but most of his companions were still occupied with the remaining two swarms.

Neko finally managed to regain his composure, and was brought back to sharp reality at Piotr's warning. He saw the ninja archers, human this time, on the balcony above, and his resolve focused. This was something he could shoot back at. Kneeling, he brought up his bow and put an arrow neatly through the shoulder of one of the assassins. Lucian followed the varra's example and put his bow to work against their new attackers as well. Another shaft flew from the balcony, this time finding Yannus. The beleaguered heroes now fought a battle on three fronts.

Mazael swung wildly in the air with his falchion, blood running down his face and into his open mouth.
"You must calm yourself," Helgarvarl advised. "You're going to get yourself, and me, killed this way. Stand still for a moment, and I will clear us a path."
It took all of Mazael's will to comply, but once he had, he felt sudden heat on his brow as Helgarvarl unleashed a small jet of flame from his eye sockets.
"Now," the helm said, "Go that way."
The war-priest obeyed, but the ravens quickly reformed their swarms, this time flying at Piotr.
"No!" the sorcerer shouted as they swept towards him, trying to cover his head.
It was no use. The birds raked at his face, and he felt hot fire shoot through his eyes as the world went dark.

Spivey had so far managed to avoid the bulk of the ravens, zipping about the hall, dodging and weaving as if she were one of them. Finally, she found herself in clear air. She quickly called upon her magic and loosed a soundburst among the flocks, stunning all of the birds, and sending them drifting aimlessly about. Yannus took the oportunity, and swiped his glaive through one of the swarms, slashing all of the birds to pieces. Neko fired again at the ninja he'd struck before, this time taking the man through the throat, and sending him toppling over the balcony. Then he turned and loosed two more arrows into the last of the ravens, skewering all of them like shish-kabobs. Lucian whooped with triumph as he too took down another of the ninjas, but his expression turned to despair as two doors suddenly opened under the balconies on both sides of the room.

One of the doors was right next to Yannus, and when he turned at the sound of it opening, he found himself looking into some sort of bunk room. Standing on the other side of the door were four burly Ulfens dressed in studded leather armor and carrying battleaxes. What captivated Yannus' attention most, however, was what was standing behind them: an enormous brown bear, reared up on its hind legs, and gripping an intimidating great axe in strangely humanoid hands.
"We have a problem over here!" he shouted to his companions.
"I have news for you, my friend," Lucian answered from the other side of the room, "it's not much better over here!"
The door near him also opened onto a dormitory, and emerging from that room were another dozen armed Ulfens.

Thinking quickly, Yannus started moving back, while at the same time using his magic to set off a sonic boom among the new comers. Two of the warriors and, to his immense relief, the great bear reeled and staggered in the wake of the concussion. It was only a brief respite, however, as the other thugs poured into the main hall, quickly surrounding the companions. Mazael was still unable to see, but when an axe blow grazed across his back, he turned, swinging his falchion with all his might, and was rewarded by a solid thunk, followed by a gurgling scream and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Lucian, who still had his bow out, found himself cornered by a quartet of Ulfens, unable to bring his weapon to bear. Though he tried to evade and protect himself, several blows penetrated his defenses, sending him staggering into a wall.

Up on the balcony, Haroldo, still blind, but fighting like a cornered animal, struggled to fend off the ninjas that surrounded him. Suddenly, one of them darted in and, hooking his foot behind the blood-rager's leg, lifted, sending Haroldo crashing to the ground. Immediately, they were upon him, stabbing at him repeatedly with their swords. Snarling in rage, he lurched to his feet, bleeding from multiple wounds. A vicious slash to his Achilles nearly brought him down again, but through sheer will he stayed on his feet. With an inarticulate howl, he swung his massive sword, connecting solidly with one of the ninja, nearly cutting the man in two, then followed through, striking a second one, ending his life as well. He stood there, a bloody, frothing wreck. The last ninja backed slowly away, but Haroldo cocked his head, listening, and then lunged forward, impaling the would-be assassin straight through the chest.

Yannus continued to try and clear some space around him, slashing out with his glaive wherever he saw an opportunity. His luck finally ran out, however, when he backed against one of the pillars supporting the roof and had no more room to maneuver. The thugs came at him from all sides, and as he spun to parry one blow, a second one hit him like a battering ram, nearly severing his spine. He felt himself falling, his breath coming in ragged gasps as consciousness slipped away.

Neko was surrounded, just as Lucian was. The difference was that the nimble monk had trained with a bow for most of his life. Even from a distance of inches, he could bring it to bear, and snapped a shot off a point-blank range, felling one of his opponents. Lucian took a different approach. Using his last snap leaf, he disappeared again. While his foes were momentarily caught off guard, he fished a vial of liquid from his pack and drank it down. He felt himself grow light, lighter even than air, and he rose from the ground, lifting up towards the rafters above. From there, he saw the huge bear-man emerge into the great hall. He saw Neko send an arrow at it, only to bounce off its thick hide.
"It's a shape-changer!" Lucian shouted, recognizing the nature of their foe. "A were-bear! We need silver!"
Shalelu had taught Lucian to prepare for any eventuality. To that end, he had stocked his quiver while in Karlsgard with arrows made from a number of different materials that various creatures of the world might be vulnerable to. Now, he reached behind him and drew forth a shaft tipped with silver. He drew to his cheek and loosed, sending the shaft into the were-bear's shoulder. The brute bellowed in rage and pain.
"Kill that one!" the creature shouted in a guttural voice, pointing up at the now-visible archer.

Mazael flailed about in a blind fury, hacking down another thug by sheer luck and power.
"Hold," Helgarvarl spoke into his ear. "The lyrakian approaches."
Mazael paused and heard the flutter of soft wings coming from directly in front of him.
"It's me," Spivey spoke. "I think I can fix your eyes."
He felt her small hands touch his eyes, and winced in pain, but a moment later his vision cleared, and he saw the direness of their circumstances.
"Thank you," he nodded. "Now get to safety. I've got some killing to do!"
She smiled and flew up again as the war-priest cut down first one, and then another of his foes.

Spivey spied Haroldo atop the balcony and flew towards him. She paused, hovering a safe distance away.
"Haroldo," she called, "it's Spivey. Nod if you can understand me."
After a moment, the blood-rager nodded once, curtly. Spivey flew to him and touched his eyes, healing them as best she could under the circumstances. Haroldo looked around, his vision clearing.
"Hmm," he grunted in approval
He then drew upon the magic that coursed through him only when his blood boiled, and before Spivey's eyes, he grew to twice his normal size.

The three ninjas on the opposite balcony, unable to get clear shots into the raging melee below, scrambled over the railings and down to the floor, joining their allies. They moved towards Mazael, who now found himself facing the were-bear, the crowd of Ulfens parting around them. The shape changer swung his axe, and though Mazael managed to get his sword up to block, the weight of the axe carried it through, and it buried itself in his shoulder. He stumbled back, directly into the waiting blade of a ninja. Mazael's sword dropped from his numb fingers and he slid to the floor.

"No!" Lucian shouted as he put two more silver arrows into the were-bear.
Then, three glowing missiles streaked through the air and struck the lycanthrope. It stumbled back and fell heavily into one of the support pillars, nearly cracking it in two. As it slumped to the floor, it began to change, until a naked human man lay dead on the floor. Lucian turned, looking for the source of his assist, and saw Piotr standing on the balcony stairs, his eyes clear once more, Spivey hovering nearby. Just then, a high-pitched squeal came from the front of the room. Lucian spun that direction, in time to see Neko, a growing pile of thugs at his feet, go down beneath the axe blows of several more. Lucian felt despair creep over him, even as he felled another Ulfen with a well-placed shot.

Only Haroldo, Spivey, Piotr and Lucian still remained to fight. Boris had not been seen since the battle began. The remaining thugs and ninjas began to close ranks. Several of them climbed another stair onto the balcony, closing in on Haroldo, while another contingent rushed towards Piotr. Lucian and Spivey remained safely above the fray, but if their last two companions fell, the battle would be lost. Spivey made a decision. Using her divine power, she channeled holy energy into a radiant burst, sending healing power into her comrades, both standing and fallen. Unfortunately, the energy was indiscriminate, and several of their wounded foes benefited from it as well. It was a necessary sacrifice, and it worked. Across the hall, now ignored by any enemies, Neko blinked and opened his eyes. Assessing the situation, he leaped to his feet and scrambled up a nearby wall to the rafters above.

Piotr breathed a little easier as his wounds began to heal, and he used his strength to call upon his magic again, conjuring a flaming sphere and sending it hurtling towards the onrushing thugs headed towards him. One was bowled over, but another dodged around it and leaped at the sorcerer, wrapping his burly arms around Piotr in a crushing bear hug. The warrior who'd been tripped up by the fire sphere regained his feet and charged, aiming to take Piotr's head while his fellow held the sorcerer still. Suddenly, an arrow sprouted from that man's throat as Neko found a perch high above and put his bow to use. Piotr felt Spivey's healing surge a second time, and his eyes grew wide as he looked over his grappler's shoulder and saw Mazael rise slowly to his feet. The war-priest growled low in his throat as he stalked forward and cleaved the Ulfen holding Piotr from stem to stern.

On the balcony, Haroldo's rage magic rose again, this time causing his arms to elongate freakishly. As the thugs and ninjas charged him, he cut them down in their tracks, none of them getting anywhere near him. One by one, they fell before him, until only one ninja, remained. The assassin gathered his will, preparing to leap at the giant warrior, but before he could, Neko's bowstring twanged and he fell where he stood, an arrow through his heart. Silence finally descended on the great hall, and it was only then that the companions realized that, in the wake of Spivey's healing magic, Yannus had failed to rise...


Wow, this fight appears to have been an extremely close call. Where was Boris during that session? I guess without the support from Spivey this could have easily ended in a TPK, couldn't it?
BTW: Boris = most hilarious character ever played in one of your campaigns ( or at least the ones I read). His indignant demand for "werewolf" actually made me chuckle.
Great journal, Jolly Doc, as epic as ever!


Out of game, Boris' player got an emergency call early on that his child fell down the stairs and needed stitches.
One thing you have to imagine when you are reading Boris' dialog, is that his player says everything in a (bad) Russian accent!

This was a very close call for the group. On paper, I didn't think Spivey was all that effective, but in play, she really shined. So far, Night of Frozen Shadows has had a high casualty rate. Yannus' player is bringing in a new PC this week...should be interesting.


2 Pharast, 4715-4 Pharast, 4715

The companions gathered their wounded and their dead, and left Ravenscraeg, making their way back down the winding stair, and then into the marshland below. They found a secure location to make camp, and set up a watch schedule to look for signs of pursuit. They had found Boris still on the stairs, apparently having bumped his head on a stoney outcropping while stumbling around invisible, and knocked himself unconscious. No one was really in any mood for conversation until Lucian at last cleared his throat.
"So, what should we do about Yannus?" he asked.
"We could return him to Sandru and Koya," Piotr suggested.
"That would take too long," Mazael snapped. "Two days to Kalsgard, and two days back. Who knows what kind of reinforcements that place could have by then?"
"Well we can't just leave him here when we go back up there," Lucian said. "Scavengers would find him."
"Why don't we bury him here then?" Piotr asked. "Koya wanted to bury Koman on the road, in the Varisian way. This would be the same, wouldn't it?"
The others remained silent, but no one disagreed.
"Though I am Desnan, and Yannus was a Shelynite," Spivey offered, "I can perform the rites."
They all nodded, no one having the stomach to speak the words over their friend.

They buried the young evangelist there in the marsh, and Spivey appealed to Desna to guide him on to wherever his travels now led him. Boris sniffed and wiped at his nose with his sleeve.
"Yannus liked oatmeal for breakfast," he said. "He was good eater. He talked to Boris about war when he eat in Boris' kitchen."
The others stood in silence for awhile, and then it was done. They went back to the camp, none of them voicing what all of them were thinking: next time it might be them.

________________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, Boris and Lucian stood watch. The others slept on their bedrolls, save for Neko, who had retreated to a nearby tree. The normal night sounds droned on about them, but as Boris poked absently at the fire, a distant noise caused his large ears to perk up. He stood, cocking his head from side to side.
"What is it?" Lucian asked.
"Boris hear something," the goblin whispered.
"I don't," Lucian replied.
"That why Boris not know why you on guard duty," Boris sniped. "Wake others. Boris be back."

Before Lucian could protest, the goblin slipped quietly into the woods and disappeared from sight. He moved swiftly, but with almost complete silence, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness, picking out shapes and shadows as if it were a moonlit night rather then overcast. He drew up shortly as he spied a slender figure moving among the trees, headed for the light of their campfire. Boris waited for the figure to pass before he fell in stealthily behind. He could tell it was a woman, young, and if he was not mistaken, Shoanti, one of the native barbarian nomad clans that roamed Varisia. She looked lightly armed and armored, though a large pouch hung from her belt. Boris moved up closer, and deftly sliced the strings holding the pouch, letting it fall into his hand, before touching the tip of his dagger to the woman's back.
"Hello pretty lady," he said. "Boris wondering what you doing out here in dark woods all alone?"
The woman stopped abruptly, stiffening, her stance tense.
"I'm a simple traveller," she said. "I'm not looking for trouble. I saw the fire ahead, and thought I might see if I could find shelter for the night."
"What your name, Lady?" Boris asked.
"Zula," she said, glancing around behind her, her eyes widening when she saw the goblin.
"Boris," he said by way of introduction. "Sure, you come to camp, but you leave weapons on ground."
"I'm not walking unarmed into a goblin camp!" Zula hissed. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Boris looked perplexed for a moment, then grinned his needle-toothed grin.
"Not goblin camp, pretty lady!" he laughed. "Boris not regular goblin. Boris' friends human, and elf-man, and angel-man, and butterfly-girl, and monkey boy. You come meet. Boris cook you special meal!"
Zula still looked dubious, but she could see activity around the campfire, and none of the individuals there looked like goblins.
"Lead the way," she said at last.

The companions watched Boris and his prisoner enter the camp with suspicion. For her part, Zula looked about with amazement at the assortment of individuals she was seeing.
"What have we here, Boris?" Piotr asked
"This Zula," Boris said. "She Shoanti-lady who just walking through dangerous woods alone at night. No big deal!"
Zula grimaced at him.
"That's not how I would phrase it," she said.
"Then why don't you tell us what you're doing out here?" Piotr asked. "Boris is right. This is not a safe place. We've just buried one of our own."
"I am sorry to hear that," Zula said, honestly. "I am not here by happenstance. I have heard rumors of a steading nearby called Ravenscraeg. I have heard its previous owner was a notorious pirate, and that he may have stashed some of his treasures there."
"That may be true," Piotr said, "but its current occupants might have something to say about that."
"Current occupants?" Zula asked. "I heard that it was empty."
"You heard wrong," Piotr replied. "Ravenscraeg has been purchased by a trading guild called the Rimerunners. For some unknown reason, their leaders have taken issue with us, and targeted us on more than one occasion. We came here seeking redress, and we were met with...hostility. They killed one of ours. We killed two dozen of theirs. We plan to return tomorrow and kill more."
Zula pondered this for several moments.
"I look around and I see symbols of goodly deities," she said at length. "I also can see that your companion there," she indicated Spivey, "is a celestial creature. I still don't understand why you are traveling with a goblin...,"
"He is an impetuous fool," Spivey laughed, "but he is good-hearted, and he is our fool."
"Thank you butterfly-lady," Boris nodded around a mouthful of food.
"...but I get the feeling you are good people," Zula continued. "I propose an arrangement: you lost one of your party today. I could aid you in your quest, in exchange for an equal share in whatever wealth you recover."
"I'm glad you feel that way," Piotr nodded, "but we don't know anything about you. Why should we trust you?"
"She is not evil," Helgarvarl said, helpfully.
Zula's eyebrows raised when she heard the helm speak.
"It's a long story," Pitor waved it off.
"Your...helmet is correct," Zula said. "I am no agent of evil. Among my people, I was a shaman...a thundercaller. However, there came a time when I felt the need to leave my tribe in search of answers to long-held questions. My quest led me to these lands, where I have made my way as an adventurer. I have no ulterior motives. You have my oath on this."
Piotr looked to his companions.
"Sure, why not?" Mazael shrugged. "We're dropping like flies. Another warm body can't hurt."
"She seems honorable to me," Haroldo said. "She has a warrior spirit."
"I don't think we have anything to loose," Lucian said, "as long as she understands that if she betrays us, she dies."
"Boris think she ok," Boris said, "but she need to pay more attention when people sneaking up on her."
"Neko agrees with Master Boris," Neko offered unnecessarily.
"She is a fellow traveler," Spivey smiled. "I welcome her upon our road."
"It seems we are in agreement then," Piotr said. "Welcome to our little band."
"Thank you," Zula said. "There is just one thing, however..." she turned towards Boris, "...can I have my pouch back now?"

___________________________________________________________________________

The next morning found the group scaling the high stairs once more to the gates of Ravenscraeg. To their surprise, they encountered no resistance on their ascent, but the gates of the steading were again closed. They positioned themselves in a battle formation, and pushed open the portals. Inside the great hall, all of the bodies were gone, only the blood stains remained. High above in the rafters, the raucous cawing of the ravens could be heard.
"Beware the birds," Haroldo warned Zula.
"And you," Lucian said to Boris,"if you decide to turn invisible or some such again, warn us! Last time you nearly got me killed because Piotr didn't know where to cast his glitterdust spell without catching you in it!"
"You big crybaby!" Boris snapped back. "If you no can take or yourself, why you not go back home to Shalelu?"
"I'm only saying that you need to be more of a team player!" Lucian countered, his voice rising.
"Boris have team you can play with!" the goblin snarled.
"Both of you shut up!" Mazael growled. "Before you bring this whole place down on us!"

As if on cue, the air overhead exploded with the black beating wings of ravens, once more descending on the companions in great swarms.
"Here they come!" Neko shrieked as he began firing into the flocks.
Haroldo slashed a dozen or more birds out of the sky as they whirled around Mazael, Piotr and himself.
"Damn it! My eyes!" Piotr screamed as talons scored his corneas.
Haroldo continued to hack at the birds, until over a hundred lay at his feet, momentarily giving him and his allies some breathing room. Suddenly, a woman's voice rose up above the cacophony, followed by a deafening boom that sounded as if a thunderclap had gone off inside the hall. As the noise rolled into silence, every last one of the ravens lay dead on the floor. As one, the companions looked at Zula. The shoanti woman gazed at her handiwork, and simply shrugged.
"It's what I do."

Piotr rubbed furiously at his eyes, relieved that the damage appeared to be minimal.
"Was that it?" he asked, looking around, expecting ninjas to come streaming over the balconies.
As if in answer, one of the doors under the balcony burst open, and a lone Ulfen warrior charged into the room.
"They're here!" he shouted in Skald.
It was the last thing he ever said as Haroldo's sword took his head from his shoulders.
"I think you're going to get you wish," the blood-rager winked at Piotr.
He wasn't planning on waiting for reinforcements to come to him, however. He began stalking down the hall, throwing open doors as he went. Behind the second door he opened, he was momentarily taken aback to find himself face-to-face with a black-clad ninja, simply standing there, motionless. The man's eyes went wide when he saw the beg warrior, then he screamed and ran towards Haroldo, driving with his wakizashi. Haroldo deflected the blade at the last moment, suffering only a glancing blow. The ninja stiffened a second later as Neko sent three arrows into his back.

At that moment, another door on the far side of the hall flew open, and eight more Ulfen's swarmed into the chamber. One made straight for Piotr, his battleaxe whistling towards the sorcerer's head. Piotr ducked, and the axe slashed his arm instead, but to his credit, he reflexively brought up his staff in defense, and managed to score a glancing blow at the thug, driving the man back a few vital feet. Lucian then put the man down with a well-placed arrow. Haroldo and Mazael rushed across the room to meet the new attackers, but before they'd gone more than a dozen feet, another thunderous call from Zula struck three of the Ulfen thugs dead in their tracks. Mazael and Haroldo each took down another, and Neko finished off the last two with well-aimed shots from his bow.

_________________________________________________________________________

"Maybe we hurt them more than we thought," Piotr said as they celebrated their relatively easy victory.
The companions went room-to-room off of the great hall, searching for more lurking enemies. Several of the chambers appeared to be empty dormitories or guard rooms. Upstairs, off of the balcony, they found a small armory, and a locked cloakroom. In the latter, they found several rolls of leather scrolls covered in tiny, cramped Skald runes stuffed into a chest. Piotr tucked them away to peruse later. At the master's table, on a raised dais near the back of the hall, Boris found Skald words roughly carved into the wood with the tip of a dagger.
'Time is the coin of fools, rendered due unto the gods,' it read.
Finally, in one of the abandoned dormitories, they came upon an iron trap door in the floor. Nearby, a closet had been turned into some sort of shrine, where a painted stone idol depicted a man with a fearsome scowling red face, bulging eyes, and a long beard, wearing red Tian robes and an iron crown. In one hand he held a noose, while the other held several shuriken. None of the companions could identify which deity it was meant to represent.

Boris moved to the trapdoor and inspected it carefully for any signs of booby traps. Finding none, he lifted the door, revealing a narrow chute sloping downward.
"Tight squeeze," he observed. "Butterfly-lady could fit."
"I could," Spivey agreed, "but why would I want to?"
"To explore," Boris shrugged. "Why else?"
"I don't know if you will fit," Spivey looked skeptical.
"I could make him...slippery," Piotr offered.
"Boris like the sound of that!" the goblin cackled.
"Ok," Spivey agreed,"but only on the condition that you wear a rope around your waist."
"Why?" Boris asked.
"So you can be pulled back up if we get into any...trouble."

Shortly, they were on their way down. The chute was dark, cramped and sooty, but thanks to Piotr's grease spell, Boris slid down easily enough. After perhaps fifty or sixty feet, the shaft terminated at another metal door. Boris pressed his ear against it.
"Boris hear something," he whispered. "Sound like ugly talking. Boris not understand."
"Let me try," Spivey said, changing places with him.
She listened intently for a moment.
"They are speaking in the Giant tongue," she said, her expression wary.
"Boris always wanted to kill giants!" the goblin grinned. "What we waiting for?"
Spivey jerked on the rope.

_________________________________________________________________________

The others saw the wisdom of Spivey's advice to find another way down to the lower levels and whatever waited down there, even though Boris pouted for a long time after. Behind the great hall, they found a service corridor and a covered kitchen off of it. A door there led outside to a picturesque dell squeezed between the steeply sloping flanks of the nearby crags that rose a hundred feet overhead. A narrow waterfall rushed in a torrent down one of those slopes and collected in a catch pond next to the kitchen. A small torrent exited this pond, and wound its way towards the great hall, where it disappeared into a metal grate in the hall's foundation. A path from the kitchen led over a narrow bridge of rough-sawn logs that arched over the stream and farther down the defile, until it was lost among the rocky outcropping beyond. A half-dozen sheep grazed in the pasture. It seemed the companions may have found a back door to Ravenscraeg, but they had no idea how to find it from the outside.

The companions went back inside and followed the service corridor to its far end, where it terminated in a large room hewn from the rock of the crag. A wooden stair rose along the walls to the north, while tables and workbenches filled the chamber, holding all manner of alembics, crucibles, burners, and assorted tools, as well as a large glass case. Within the case was what appeared to be a humanoid body. A variety of dried herbs and plants dangled in profusion from hooks on the bottoms of the stairs, and sacks and chests which held additional equipment and components, had been shoved underneath the stairs. A single torch mounted on one of the stair posts illuminated the chamber with a flickering glow. Boris walked over to the glass case, his head cocked curiously to one side. He reached out one hand and rapped his knuckles on the glass. To his shocked surprise, the body moved, lurching into a sitting position. He could see what looked like insects crawling beneath its skin. It opened its mouth and spoke in a strange, droning voice, whose words he could not understand.
"It is the language of the Hells," Spivey said, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
"What it say?" Boris asked.
"It's asking to be released," Spivey replied.
"Well that certainly has 'bad idea' written all over it," Piotr offered.
"It is Evil," Helgarvarl said helpfully
"What are you doing here, creature?" Spivey asked the thing in its own language.
"I am...beinnnng...helllld captivvve," the thing droned.
"By whom?" Spivey asked.
"Wizzzzzard...," it replied.
"And what would you do if we freed you?" asked Spivey. "Try to kill us?"
"Nnnnno," it buzzed. "Revennnnnge!"
"We aren't seriously considering letting it out, are we?" Lucian asked, incredulous.
"Why not?" Boris shrugged. "It say it help us kill enemies."
"That is NOT what it said," Lucian snapped.
"I agree with Master," Neko said.
"It is a fiend," Haroldo said. "Let it out, and then we can kill it. I don't like the idea of leaving a potential enemy behind us."
"If it could get out, don't you think it would have already?" Piotr asked.
"Who knows what tricks wizards are capable of?" the blood-rager asked, pointedly. "Suppose it was left here as a trap for the unwary?"
"You obviously have no idea how magical bindings work!" Piotr sniped back. "If it's been bound here, I'm sure it's for a very good reason."
"Didn't we hear about wizard named something-runeshaker?" Boris asked.
"Gotti Runecaster, Master," Neko supplied.
"Yes, that him!" Boris said. "Maybe he put dead bug-man in cage."
"So what if he did?" Piotr asked. "Even more reason to leave it where it is!"
"I agree," Lucian said.
"Big surprise!" Boris raised his hands in the air. "Cry-baby no want to fight! Run home to Momma Shalelu!"
"Enough!!" Mazael's voice boomed, and then the big man strode purposefully over to the cage and smashed the glass with his sword.

Everyone held their breath as the glass shattered to the floor. The figure inside began to writhe furiously, its mouth opening wide as if in agony. Then, a evil buzzing rose to a high-pitched drone as thousands of red and black wasps, each the size of a man's thumb, came pouring out of its throat. Mazael stepped back, swinging his sword furiously in a futile effort to beat back the swarm. Haroldo joined him, but their blades met nothing but air. In seconds, the swarm was upon them, stinging furiously. Haroldo felt something like liquid ice streaming through his veins as the virulent poison of the hellwasp swarm took hold of him. Spivey tried to cast a soundburst spell on the wasps, but it seemed to have little effect, and she found herself quickly overwhelmed by the swarm, along with Piotr and Lucian.
"Master, run!" Neko shrieked as he bounded back down the service corridor, snatching up Boris as he went.
Zula watched them go, then turned back to her newfound partners. Spivey was doubled over with nausea, her face pale from the effects of the poison in her system. Piotr had also broken out in a cold sweat from the venom, but he had managed to move himself clear of the swarm and then sent a cone of flames through it. The fire seemed to just wash mostly harmlessly over the fiendish insects. Zula drew in her breath and gathered her power to her. She opened her mouth, and thunder rolled through the chamber and the hall beyond, setting the glassware rattling. For the briefest of moments, the swarm broke apart, and several dozen individual wasps dropped dead to the floor. Then, it reformed and, as if possessed of a malevolent intelligence, it came directly at the thundercaller.

Things began happening very quickly after that. A hundred stings pierced Zula's skin, and she felt the venom turn her muscles to jelly. Again and again she summoned her magic, blasting the swarm apart, only to have it reform, though significantly reduced each time. Spivey managed to briefly regain her composure and try another another soundburst, this time with better effect. The swarm was momentarily stunned, flying about in random directions. Mazael took the opportunity to send Helgarvarl flying towards the wasps, where he unleashed a small blast of frost from his eyeholes. Haroldo was able to call upon his blood magic to set his hands aflame and send it into the swarm, before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the floor, rigid from the venom. A moment later, Zula loosed one last thunderclap before she too succumbed to the poison. The swarm was only a fraction of what it had been, but all of the companions remaining in the chamber were reeling from nausea and envenomation, save for Mazael. One last time he released Helgarvarl, and the brave little angel flew directly into the hellwasps, cold and frost pouring from him. When the frigid mists cleared, the last of the fiendish insects fell frozen to the ground.

______________________________________________________________________

Lucian used his healing magic to revive Zula and Haroldo, and to stabilize the others, including himself, though they were all still weak as kittens. The group gathered themselves, and limped back to the great hall, where Boris and Neko crouched in hiding behind one of the pillars. The pair rejoined the others. No words were spoken, but the air was thick with tension. They left Ravenscraeg for the second time in as many days and made their way slowly and painfully back to their campsite. There, oddly enough, it was Neko who broke the silence.

"If were back in the circus," he said, jabbing his finger towards Mazael, "that one would be stripped and flogged!"
"If you want to keep that finger, and the arm it's attached to," Mazael growled low, "you better take it out of my face, monkey-boy!"
"This is not the time for this," Piotr said, stepping between them.
Neko turned to Boris.
"Master," he said, "I am loyal to you, but I'm afraid with friends like these, they will be the death of you! I cannot stay and watch that happen. I will go back to Kalsgard and tell the others what we have found here. I hope to see you again."
"Wait...," Boris said, reaching toward the varra, but Neko clambered up a tree and disappeared into the canopy above.
"Good riddance," Mazael sneered.

________________________________________________________________________

It took two days until the heroes were recovered enough to even consider returning to Ravenscraeg. During that time, Piotr had time to read the scrolls they had recovered from the cloak room. They turned out to be personal diaries of Snorri Stone-Eye. They were the writings of a mad man. The Mad Reaver claimed that his magical artificial eye gave him the 'second sight,' allowing him to peer into both the past and the future and see the way things were and the way things would be. He predicted that there would come a time when the very gods waged war against each other upon Golarion, and the Rough Beast would slip his chains to ravage the world. Stone-Eye claimed that only those who were prepared would be spared the devastation and enjoy the fruits of a world ripe for conquest when the gods had destroyed themselves and the dust had settled. The Mad Reaver would weather the storm in his safe-hold, from which he would emerge as the strongest power in the North.
This was the place that the companions would be returning to for a third time: the fortified keep of a psychopath...


4 Pharast, 4715-5 Pharast, 4715: The Blood-Feather Raven

It was after midnight, but only Piotr and Mazael slept. The others sat near the campfire in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Thus, it was quite unexpected when Helgarvarl, who rested atop Mazael's backpack, suddenly began to speak.
"I sense something...," he said, but his thought was interrupted by a high-pitched whine.
Haroldo abruptly pitched forward, grunting in pain, and when the others turned towards him, they saw why: a long, black-fletched arrow protruded from between his shoulder blades. Boris cursed and rolled off the log he'd been sitting on, disappearing into the underbrush. Spivey spread her wings and rose into the air, gazing into the darkness from whence the shot had come. She saw a shadowy figure crouched among the trees several dozen feet away, and as she watched, it put a flask to its lips and vanished from view. The tiny priestess quickly began casting a spell, sending a quartet of dancing lanterns hovering over the spot where she'd last seen their assailant.
"There!" she pointed.
Piotr awoke rudely after Zula kicked him roughly in the ribs. Though his thoughts were still fuzzy, months with his traveling companions had taught him the value of quickly adapting to a situation. He rose to a sitting position and looked around for a moment before seeing the floating orbs of light out in the trees. Acting on his first impulse, he wove a glitterdust spell and detonated it in that vicinity. As the gold sparkles settled over everything in the blast radius, a woman's form was revealed. She wore a chain shirt, and carried a large, curved bow. Haroldo charged towards her at the same time that Lucian fired his own bow, striking her in the leg. She pivoted as the blood-rager closed and put a shaft into his shoulder at point-blank range. Then she cried out in pain as Boris suddenly appeared out of the darkness and drove a blade into her back. Before she could recover, Haroldo reached her, ignoring the pain from his own wound and slashing savagely at her with his greatsword. She fell, twitching, to the ground.

They searched her and found nothing identifiable. She was Ulfen, but she did not carry one of the jade raven statuettes that the thugs at Ravenscraeg bore. The following morning, Zula was able to follow her back trail, which led, strangely enough, towards Karlsgard. After a half-mile or so, they came upon a riding horse, saddled and picketed in a small clearing. In its saddle bags were 500 gold coins of Chelish mint.
"Didn't that damn wasp corpse say something about being captured by a Chelish wizard?" Mazael asked.
"Looks like someone has put a price on our heads," Piotr replied.

________________________________________________________________________

Once more, the intrepid heroes returned to the stairs of Ravenscraeg. This time, however, they had climbed no higher than the second landing, when bricks, rocks and other debris began raining down on them from above.
"Looks like they were expecting us this time!" Mazael growled as he ducked for cover.
Spivey quickly took to the air from her perch on his shoulder, and flew to the upper landing, where she saw four Ulfen thugs crouched behind the railing, throwing detritus over the side.
"There are only four!" she called. "Move quickly!"
Her friends wasted no time. Pitor cast a spell of haste upon them, and moving like the wind, they hustled up the switchback stairs, dodging falling rocks as they ran. Lucian guarded the rear, periodically sending arrows flying up at their assailants to buy his allies a little more time. Mazael was the first to reach the top level, but he was quickly followed by Haroldo, and even Boris. The Ulfens reached for their axes, but it was simply a formality. The war-priest and battle-rager tore through them, with the goblin taking advantage of the chaos to slip his sword into an exposed flank here and there. By the time Zula, Lucian and Piotr reached the top, the battle was over.

They found the doors to the great hall were again closed, and when they pushed them open, the evidence of their last battle had been swept clean. Above them, however, the ravens called, and both Mazael and Haroldo spotted black-clad figures hiding atop the balcony.
"Alright boys and girls," Mazael sighed, "we know this music. Let's dance!"

The companions had indeed learned from their past experiences. As the ravens swooped towards them, Piotr conjured fire to deter them, while Zula blasted them out of the air by the dozens with her thunderous voice. Mazael and Haroldo took the fight to the ninjas who sniped at them from the upper tier, while Lucian returned fire, and Boris crept through the shadows unseen until he was upon the assassins. Though the ninjas got off a few lucky shots, none were vital, and the heroes gave far worse than the received. The battle was over quickly, and this time, it seemed no further reinforcements were forthcoming.

_____________________________________________________________________

After dealing with their minor injuries, the group returned to the lab where they had faced the hellwasp swarm. Here, as in the great hall, there was little evidence of their previous battle. The wasps were gone, and the broken glass of the case had been swept away. More proof that the Rimerunners' resources were far from exhausted if they had time to tidy up after two incursions into their stronghold. There were two doors that led from the lab, as well as the broad stairs that wound further up into the keep's tower. The first door they tried gave onto a stairwell going down.
"Giants down there," Boris affirmed.
"All the more reason to take care of business up here first," Mazael said.

Boris pressed his ear to the second door, and then drew back with a look of surprise on his face. He had distinctly heard the sounds of weeping on the other side.
"Boris hear cry-baby," the goblin grinned. "Boris think it Lucian, but he standing right here."
Lucian just scowled at him.
Zula cleared her throat. "If you would allow me," she said, "among my people I was a Speaker. I have some skill and experience in handling...delicate...situations. Whoever is behind that door has surely been traumatized in some way. We may need to handle this with a bit more finesse than you are accustomed to."
"Huh?" Mazael grunted.
"She says to let her do the talking," Piotr sighed," and don't kill the first thing you see."
The war-priest shrugged. "Whatever."
Zula nodded, and Boris quickly worked the lock on the door, then pulled it open. A cramped cell, ten-feet deep and no more than five-feet high, had been excavated in a corner of the tower's foundation. It was rank with the smell of sweat and urine, and a pair of rats scurried among the rib cage of some former inhabitant. A middle-aged Ulfen man, who appeared to have once been corpulent but was now a wasted shadow, lay curled up on the floor, his face battered and bruised.
"Please...," he said in a ragged, hoarse whisper, "don't...kill me."
"Tell us your name," Zula said calmly. "We mean you no harm."
"Lute," he rasped. "Lute Haggersly. I'm from...Karlsgard."
"We are here to deal with the masters of this hall," Zula told him. "We will take you from here when we leave and return you to Karlsgard safely, but it would help us if you could tell us everything you know about this place and its occupants."
Lute nodded, a hopeful look in his eyes.
"I am a merchant," he began, after he had finished half of a water skin Zula offered him. "I serve on the Rimerunners Guild's board of shareholders."
"The Rimerunners?" Piotr interrupted. "They are who we have issue with. They have made several attempts on our lives, and we have reason to believe their leader is here. Why would they hold one of their own prisoner?"
Lute shook his head.
"I'm not certain, but I believe I earned the enmity of Thorborg Silverskorr when I voted against a measure that she had proposed. I was returning from a business trip to some of the outlying villages when I was abducted by brigands and brought here. I have only had contact with three individuals since."
"Can you describe them?" Zula asked.
"The main one was a wizard of some sort. He is not human. I...can't say what he is. Perhaps some species of orc? He never questioned me, only threatened. He kept saying that he was going to infest me with some sort of demonic wasps."
"Not any more," Zula said. "We destroyed them."
Lute nodded.
"Another was some kind of bear creature," he continued. "He didn't ask me questions either, just beat me periodically."
"We met him as well," Piotr said. "He's dead too."
Lute nodded appreciatively again.
"The last was a hideous purple ogre!" he said. "You won't believe me, and I can't prove it, but I would swear on my life that she was none other than Thorborg Silverskorr herself!"
"Why do you say that?" Zula asked.
"Because as soon as she left my cell," Lute said, "I heard first her monstrous voice, then suddenly, it was the voice of Silverskorr. I know her voice well."
"Intersting," Zula pursed her lips. "Well, in any case, we will discover the truth soon. It's not safe for you to come with us now, so I suggest you stay here. If we have not returned for you in three hours, leave this place and flee as best you can."
Lute looked frightened but he nodded again.
"Please, don't forget me," he said. "I will make it worth your while if you can get me back home."

_______________________________________________________________________

Single file, with Haroldo and then Mazael in the lead, the companions made their way cautiously up the tower stairs, passing a second floor landing. Ultimately, the stairs gave onto an airy chamber with windows open to the elements, bringing a chill to the room. A fireplace stood against one wall, its ashes cold, next to a stack of firewood. A trap door with a wooden ladder leading to it, opened in the ceiling. Several cots were spaced about the chamber, with small footlockers next to each. Crouched in combat stances about the area were seven of the bird-headed tengu ninjas.

Haroldo didn't hesitate. He rushed headlong into the room, hacking savagely at the nearest assassin, while Lucian squeezed past Mazael on the stairs and positioned himself in a corner so that he could have a clear line of fire with his bow. Spivey flew in as well, and when she saw a trio of ninjas closing in on, she quickly cast a sonic blast in their midst, leaving all of them reeling. She whirled suddenly as a familiar noise reached her ears...ravens! Before she could shout a warning, a cloud of birds swarmed into the room from an adjoining chamber, engulfing her friends. Haroldo and Mazael beat at them, but they were rapidly in danger of being overwhelmed. Still on the stairwell, Zula saw the situation deteriorating, and she knew that she had to act.
"Cover your ears!" she cried in warning, and then she unleashed the full fury of her thunder call.

The results were devastating. The ravens were completely obliterated, but Haroldo, Mazael, Lucian and Boris were all caught in the blast as well. The four of them were left staggering and stumbling about, all bleeding from their ears and noses. Piotr quickly conjured a cloud of glitterdust in the center of the room, hoping to keep the ninjas from using their disappearing trick, but it didn't matter. Stunned from the thunder clap, the heroes could not defend themselves when the assassins came for them. Two of them flanked Haroldo, stabbing and slashing at him repeatedly until he collapsed to the floor. Another drove his sword into Lucian, and the oracle felt his blood begin to burn as the poison that was on the blade soaked into him. Still another came for Piotr, and though the sorcerer was not as helpless as his friends, he was unable to ward off the attack, and when the ninja struck, the sorcerer's skin first flushed and then paled as he reeled back, the toxin taking rapid effect.

Suddenly, a whooshing sound began in the same small adjoining chamber from whence the ravens had come. It grew in intensity as it drew closer, and then the air in the room began to whip about as if a strong wind had sprung up. Abruptly, two small whirlwinds, no bigger than Boris, came spinning into the main chamber, twirling through the air straight towards Spivey.
"Elementals!" she cried as they slammed into her.
They circled around her, buffeting her to and fro, but her angelic make-up made her all but impervious to their blows. The bigger problem to her mind, was who or what had summoned them, and was that same individual controlling the ravens. Her question was answered a moment later when a large, black bird, about three-feet tall and with a single blood-red feather, came flying into the chamber from the adjoining room. As she watched in amazement, it began to speak the words of a spell, and a small ball of fire appeared at the tip of one wing.

Mazael was the first to shake off the stupor from Zula's blast. He raised his sword and squeezed himself between Piotr and his attackers. From behind him, the sorcerer began to cast, and a sheet of flames arced over Mazael's shoulder, setting four of the ninjas ablaze. The reprieve was short-lived, however, as the other assassins surged forward, pinning Mazael, Piotr and Boris in the corner. Lucian, in the opposite corner, and feeling himself growing weaker by the moment, snatched a brittle snapleaf from his belt and crushed it, instantly rendering himself invisible. As quietly as possible, he began extricating himself from his precarious position.

Spivey, completely ignoring the ineffective elementals, hurled another concussive soundburst into the midst of the trio of ninjas who had her comrades locked down. One of them fell dead instantly, while another staggered away, his head spinning. The last paused for a moment in his assault, and that was all Mazael needed. The war-priest slammed the pommel of his falchion into the tengu's head, and as it fell back, he ran it through cleanly. Spivey turned, trying to see the blood raven in the midst of the melee, and caught sight of it just in time to see it loose the ball of flame in its wing. The projectile sailed towards Piotr. Spivey cried out, and the sorcerer turned, but it was too late. The fire struck him in the chest, sending him careening into the wall, where his head struck with a sickening crack. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped limply to the flagstones.

Boris was the next to fall. The goblin moved sluggishly from the poison flowing through his veins, but he still managed to shank one of the ninjas who was busy trying to fend off Mazael. Blood erupted from the tengu's mouth as Boris's blade pierced its heart, but a moment later it was the goblin's turn to bleed as another assassin slid its blade through his back.
"That...hurt...Boris...," he wheezed just before he fell.
The ninja stood over him, and prepared to deliver a coup de grace, but then a bowstring twanged as Lucian reappeared. The arrow took the tengu in the throat and if died strangling.

Spivey could see that things were unravelling rapidly. Besides herself, only Mazael, Lucian and Zula still stood, and the former two were unsteady on their feet. Three ninjas were still up, not to mention the blood-feather raven and its pair of summoned elementals. The odds were not in their favor. She risked channelling her divine power to try and heal her allies, though she knew it would also benefit their enemies. She had no choice. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw both Piotr and Boris open their eyes. The sorcerer didn't waste time getting to his feet, knowing he would only be cut down again. He snatched a snapleaf from his spell pouch and promptly vanished. One ninja stared at the spot where he'd been, confused for a moment until Mazael ended his confusion permanently. Lucian snapped off an arrow at one of the remaining pair, and Zula quickly followed with another thunder blast, thankfully missing her friends this time and only catching the killers. One of them wobbled, and Mazael opened his throat. The last one danced away, slashing Mazael's sword arm as it went, but as it moved past Boris, the goblin stopped playing possum and rolled to his feet, driving his own wakizashi up through the tengu's groin. It opened its beak to shriek in agony, and that's when Lucian sent an arrow right down its throat.

And then it was only the blood-feather raven. Even its elementals had disappeared, their summoning expired. Zula wasn't about to risk letting it escape, and she hurled the power of her voice at it, buffeting it as it flew. Piotr then reappeared as he sent a volley of arcane missiles flying at the bird. It's raspy voice croaked out another spell, and a billowing fog engulfed it, hiding it from view. Zula didn't care. She didn't have to see her enemy to bring it down. Another thunderclap exploded in the middle of the mist, and then the fog was swept away as Piotr sent a blast of wind through the room, nearly knocking the raven out of the air. The bird screeched again, but this time it was in fear as Mazael charged towards it. The war-priest swept his falchion before him, and blood and feathers flew. The raven shrieked again, and flew out one of the windows, reaching down with its beak to draw a small scroll from a band around its leg as it went.
"Not this time, you little bastard!" Piotr snarled.
He thrust his hands out, and another barrage of missiles flew, streaking through the window unerringly towards the raven. They struck the bird full on, and it fell, tumbling through the air to the valley far below.

_______________________________________________________________________

The companions gathered around Haroldo, his face pale, his lips blue and lifeless.
"It...it was my fault," Zula said softly, her voice breaking. "I...I'm so sorry...,"
"It was the right call," Mazael said. "We'd all be dead if you hadn't."
"What we do now?" Boris asked. "We got no monkey-boy. We got no angry man. Boris still not feel so good."
The others had no reply. All of them, save Spivey and Zula, were still suffering the after effects of the ninjas' poison, and their numbers were getting smaller, while the resources of their opponents seemed limitless. Their prospects looked bleak...

Sovereign Court

Yeah, that one sucked. As Zula's player, I let the group make the call as to whether or not they wanted me to blast the ravens (with them in it) and risk the stun. Then I rolled high damage (19 on 3d8) and everyone failed their saves. The situation cascaded and was somewhat touch and go, especially with the ninjas having that extremely potent poison requiring two consecutive saves.


Noch update this weekend, JollyDoc?
I am real anxious to see how your decimated group will fare against this adventure's main villain...


1 person marked this as a favorite.

We had several players out, and so we missed our regular game session. We reconvened this past Sunday, so I should have a new update by Friday or Saturday. It's getting good!


7 Pharast, 4715

Once more, the companions took their leave of Ravenscraeg, this time carrying the body of Haroldo Seigfreid, and with the merchant Lute Haggersly in tow. Recently, after the deaths of Koman and Yannus, the group had a frank discussion among themselves about what their wishes would be should one of them be next. Haroldo had made it clear that he wanted to return to the land of the living if at all possible. However, the Amatatsu Seal had last been used to try and revive Koman, who's spirit had refused, and it could not be used again in that way for another three weeks.

"We can't just leave him out here in the woods for the wolves," Mazael said.
"I can lay a blessing upon his body to preserve it," Spivey volunteered.
"That won't protect him from scavengers," Piotr noted, "and as much as he and I had our disagreements, I do not wish to see him become wolf scat."
"If you will give me a horse," Lute spoke up, "I will take him back to Karlsgard, and to your people there. I do not want to stay out here a moment longer than I have to."
The others looked at one another questioningly.
"We have no reason to doubt you," Piotr said at length, "but we have no real reason to trust you, other than that you were being held captive by our enemies. However, we also have limited options. Know this: if you fail to do this for any reason other than that you died in the attempt, we will find you and you will wish that the Rimerunners still had you."
Lute nodded.
"I understand. You have my word that I will do this or die trying. Find me when you return to the city."

They gave Lute the horse of the hired assassin they'd dealt with, and sent him on his way with Haroldo's body strapped across the back, then settled in to lick their wounds. A day and two nights passed with Spivey, Mazael and Lucian tending to themselves and their companions. It was during the second night, with Boris and Lucian on watch, that a slim figure slipped quietly and unseen into the camp.
"Where are Yannus and Haroldo?" a female voice asked quietly.
The two watchers whirled, their weapons coming up, and the others jolted awake, only to see the lithe form of Shalelu warming herself by the fire. Lucian's face went from alarm, to relief, to shame at being so easily taken by surprise.
"Shalelu!" he cried. "What...why are you here?"
"To make sure all of you where still alive," she replied. "It appears I have arrived too late."
"We have had more...resistance...than expected," Lucian said, his eyes downcast He then proceeded to tell his mentor all that had transpired since they left Karlsgard.
Shalelu listened in silence until he finished.
"This is grim news indeed," she said. "Koya will be distraught at the loss of another son. I'm afraid the tidings I bring are no better. Not a day after you left, the body of the Varki woman Uksahkka was pulled from the harbor. Her throat had been cut. Four days later, several members of our caravan took ill after the evening meal. It was determined they the food stores had been poisoned. Unfortunately, two of our drivers succumbed."
"Ameiko?" Piotr asked.
"Unharmed," the ranger replied.
"Did Boris' monkey-boy make it back to big city?" Boris asked.
"I did not see him before I left," Shalelu said, "but it is possible we missed one another on the road."
"We are glad you've come," Lucian said.
"I intend to stay," she replied. "It would seem that you need all the help you can get."

__________________________________________________________________________

Ravenscraeg again. The doors were shut and barred this time.
"I'd guess they're still expecting us," Mazael growled.
"Then let's give them something they do not expect," Shalelu said, looking up towards the roof.
"What do you have in mind?" Lucian asked.
The ranger glanced at Spivey. "How are you at tying knots?"

A few minutes later, the companions had scaled the wall of the keep and made it onto the slate tiles of the roof. Quickly they made their way to the back and lowered the rope again, clambering down into the hidden glen below. The kitchen door was unlocked, and the chamber itself empty. As quietly as they could, which was still like banging pots together as far as Boris was concerned, they crept down the service hall, and then through the wine and food stores which opened onto the main hall.
"Ready?" Boris asked as he gripped the door handle and looked back at his companions
Mazael nodded.

They were not disappointed in what they found. A group of seven Ulfens stood gathered around the front door expectantly, while on the balcony above, three black-clad ninjas crouched in the shadows. What was conspicuously absent, however, was the cawing of the ravens. Apparently, they were not as inclined to aggression without their blood-feathered master. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The Rimerunners agents were caught completely off guard, and though well-trained and coordinated, they never had a chance to recover. Spivey and Zula worked in concert to stun their opponents with their magic, as Shalelu and Lucian picked off the ninjas above, leaving Mazael, Boris and Piotr to clean up the rest. It was over in less than a minute.

_______________________________________________________________________

The forces in the great hall seemed to be the only reinforcements in evidence. The companions met no further opposition as they made their way back to the laboratory where they'd found the stairs that led down to whatever lay below. The stairway descended into a plain room of mortared stones. The walls dripped with condensation, giving the air a cold, clammy feel. Plain, wooden doors stood to the north and west. Boris went to each of them and pressed a large ear against them.
"Boris hear water," he said of the northern door. "Boris hear nothing," he said of the west.
"Do I look like I'm built for water?" Mazael snapped, indicating the full plate armor that encased him.
Boris shrugged indifferently, and pulled open the western portal.

The door opened into a natural cavern thirty feet across and fifteen feet high. A waterfall poured in through a small aperture high on the south wall, filling a turbulent pool in the floor and sending a cold spray throughout the room. A smoothed ledge extended outward from the door, and two large barrels had been set to the right of it. Another ledge sat on the far side of the pool, with a smaller cask sitting upon it next to a heavy wooden door. Boris turned and looked over his shoulder at Mazael.
"You bad luck all around," he giggled.
He then turned, took three quick running steps, and leaped the entire length of the pool, landing nimbly on the opposite ledge. He barely glanced at the cask, but the glint of metal caught his eye. He reached out, almost as a reflex, and snatched a silver ladle that sat atop the barrel, then deftly shoved it in his pocket. He listened at the door for a few moments.
"Boris not hear nothing," he called back to his companions.
"Do you need any help?" Spivey called back.
"No, butterfly-lady," the goblin replied. "Boris call you if he need you."

On the other side of the door was a small, musty room hewn from solid rock. Near the far wall stood a low well. A winch and chain with a rusty steel bucket hung from the wall above it. In the far corner sat a pile of old wooden buckets and other debris, rotten and broken, with several different kinds of fungus growing on their remnants. No sooner had Boris opened the door than a flickering glow began to emanate from the depths of the well. In its glow, he could see that the ceiling appeared to be moving. Amorphous, black shapes creeped and undulated along its surface. Carefully, Boris backed out of the room.
"Ok, butterfly-lady," he called, "Boris need your help now! Bugs on ceiling, and fire in well!"
It was Zula who stepped forward on the far side of the pool.
"Stand back!" she warned.
Boris ducked behind the cask as the Shoanti woman unleashed her power, setting off a sonic boom in the middle of the small room. Boris peaked around the corner and saw a half-dozen creatures laying twitching on the floor. He smiled broadly back at Zula and gave a thumbs up. A moment later, Spivey flew across to join him. She peered into the room, focusing on the well.
"I sense no evil there," she said, concentrating, "but powerful magic is present."
She flew to the lip of the well and looked down.
"There is something aflame down there," she said, and then she dove in.
A moment later, she reemerged, a sword bathed in fire gripped in her hands.
'Scion of Amatatsu,' Boris heard a gravelly voice speaking in his head. 'I have been waiting many years, and had almost given up hope. I am Suishen, the ancestral blade of our clan. I sense three other Scions nearby. Who shall claim me?'

_________________________________________________________________

"Well, looks like we got what we came for," Mazael said as he held Suishen reverently.
"We still haven't found the Ulfen guide," Shalelu noted.
Mazael shrugged. "One guide's as good as another."
"Except there are none other available," Lucian interjected. "Besides, if the Rimerunners have this man, we can't just leave him here to die."
Mazael shrugged again. "Guess we'd better get moving then."

Boris turned to the second door leading out of the room at the bottom of the stairs. Opening it, he found himself looking down a long, dark corridor. A deep channel of flowing water crossed the hall about midway down. On the opposite side lay a heavy timber plank. A brass bell and clapper hung from the wall on the near side. Though his first inclination was to ring the bell and see what happened, Boris thought better of it and instead got a running start and hurdled the stream. Landing softly as a cat, he snuck down the corridor to where it ended at a T-junction. To his left stood a heavy door, while to the right was a large chamber, oppressively hot compared to the rest of the cellars. A coal furnace roared in one wall, giving the room a dull, red glow. A heap of coal was stacked against another wall, and an iron door opened in the ceiling above it. Three crude beds made of poorly cured bearskin and wolf pelts were thrown on the floor before the fire, and a hogshead rested between them, next to the bloody bones of some unfortunate creature. Warming themselves by the fire were three green-skinned, hook-nosed giants. The smell coming off of them was overpowering. Boris pulled back around the corner, then glanced back down the hall at his friends. He grinned broadly, and held up three fingers, then raised his hands as high as he could above his head. He then mimed shooting his bow and running.
"What in the Hells is he up to now?" Mazael growled.
'What are you doing, little one,' Suishen spoke into Boris's thoughts.
'Boris see three giants, glowey sword!' he giggled back. 'Boris going to shoot one and then run away! Then they come to Boris's friends! Good plan!'
"Prepare yourself," Suishen sighed to Mazael.

Boris drew back his bowstring and let fly an arrow. It struck the nearest giant with a satisfying thunk, and the brute grunted in pain and surprise. It turned and saw the goblin just as he darted around the corner. Mazael and the others saw Boris sprinting back towards them, and leaping easily back across the stream.
"Here they come!" he cackled.
Sure enough, from the far end of the hall, the three giants came lumbering, single file.
"Trolls," Shalelu snarled. "Careful my friends. They can heal their wounds. We will need fire to defeat them."
"Good thing we found our friend here," Mazael sneered, holding Suishen aloft, flames flickering along its blade. Then, to the amazement of his companions, the war-priest rose into the air, walking upon it as easily as he would the ground.
"Another little trick the sword showed me," he laughed.

Mazael began walking towards the trolls, and as he went, Lucian and Shalelu sent a volley of arrows past him, dropping the lead giant in its tracks. It went down just as Mazael reached it, and then Helgarvarl loosed a gout of fire upon it, searing its flesh black. It did not rise again. By the time the second troll reached him, the war-priest was hovering above the water, and the brute had to wade out to meet him. He gripped Suishen in both hands and brought the katana down in a wicked slash, the blade feeling completely natural in his hands. The troll roared in agony as fire danced inside the wound, but then it lunged forward, locking its jaws around Mazael's arm. He tried to pull away, but the beast was too strong. It dragged him towards itself. Then, the air whizzed with arrows again, and the troll abruptly fell back, burning as it died. That just left one. Mazael rushed towards it, and Boris went tumbling through its legs, coming up behind it. The two of them struck as one, and troll keeled over like a fallen log.
"See?" Boris grinned. "Good plan!"

_________________________________________________________________

The door opposite the coal room was locked, but Boris had no trouble bypassing it. On the other side was a grand chamber, the ceiling of which rose twenty feet overhead, its heavy beams serving as both rafters and supports for the great hall above. Teak paneling covered the walls, and the floor was of polished wood. Along the walls, wooden columns rose to the ceiling, bearing banners emblazoned with pictograms from far-off Tian Xia. Above these hung small oil lamps that gave off a dim glow. A small porcelain bowl rested before the center column to the south, and several reed mats were arranged before it. It was Zula who saw them first: figures clung to the columns at a point near the ceiling. She opened her throat and sent the thunder towards the nearest one, who recoiled from the blast, but did not fall as she'd hoped. Then, one by one they let go of their perches, falling deftly to the floor, and landing as softly as if they were made of air. They were all Tian, male and female, and they were dressed in simple, loose fitting robes. Their heads were shaved, and they each carried only a simple spear. The closest one hefted his and sent it flying at Boris, impaling the goblin cleanly through his thigh.

Suddenly, a door opened on the far side of the room, and two more of the monks quickly entered, followed by a woman dressed in a flowing black, silk robe with a half-mask concealing her hair and lower face. In one hand she carried a black-bladed dagger, glowing with dark light. Shalelu quickly snapped an arrow off at her, but she simply reached out her free hand and batted the shaft from the air. Abruptly, her form shimmered, and four shadowy clones of her separated from her body, surrounding her on all sides. This didn't bother Zula in the least. She simply blanketed the newcomer, as well as one of the monks, with her thundercall, killing the underling, and stunning the knife-wielding ninja. Spivey followed up a moment later with her own soundburst, stunning another pair of monks. Shalelu and Lucian took advantage of the distraction to go to work on the leader with their bows. Shalelu's shots stripped away the phantom images, while Lucian's struck home, leaving the ninja reeling.

One of the remaining monks summersaulted across the floor, and landed in a crouch before driving her bare heel solidly into Mazael's inner thigh. Boris went tumbling the opposite direction, trying to get behind the female ninja, but she shook off her stupor a moment too soon. As he tried to dart past her, she slashed down with her black blade, stabbing the goblin in the back. He screeched as he felt liquid venom pour into the wound. She raised the dagger to deliver another blow, but another sonic blast from Spivey staggered her again as well as another trio of the monks. Another deadly volley of arrows from Shalelu and Lucian finally put her down.

Mazael, limping on one leg, stabbed out with Suishen, impaling the monk at his feet. A barrage of magic missiles from Piotr finished another stunned one, while Lucian fired an arrow through the eye of a third. The last one fell to Mazael again, rage and Suishen's power overwhelming any pain he felt with the joy of glorious battle.


7 Pharast, 4715

Neko was troubled. It had been more than two days since he saw Shalelu walking through the woods beneath his treetop perch, headed in the direction from which he'd just come. He had not called out to her, and that was part of what troubled him. She was going to find them...Boris and the others. She was going to help while he...well, he didn't quite know what it was that he was doing exactly. When the hellwasp swarm had attacked, he'd felt helpless, and all of the fear and trauma that had been a part of his daily life with the circus came back to him. He couldn't face that again, so he had let his fear turn to anger at his new friends, and then it had been easier to leave them. But the anger was gone now, and only the fear remained. Fear and shame. Those were the feelings that had kept him rooted in his tree for the past two days. Fear at rejoining his comrades, and shame at not. Ultimately, however, it was that image of Shalelu, striding purposefully and completely without fear, that made his mind up for him. He leaped from his branch to another one nearby, and then another, and another until he was racing through the canopy back towards Ravenscraeg.

___________________________________________________________________

The monks' cells that ringed the dojo were largely empty, save that each of them contained a shrine to a strange Tian deity that Spivey identified as the Yama King, a death god. However, in the chamber that seemed to belong to the ninja woman, they found a large trunk that contained, among other things, a set of peasant clothing, a disguise kit, and a handwritten writ signed by Sveinn Blood-Eagle himself that gave the bearer the authority to commandeer any of the Linnorm King's huscarls within 2 miles of Kalsgard for up to 12 hours. Boris, being the only one able to read Skald, tucked this away in his pocket after telling his comrades that it was simply a grocery list. Finally, in the last of the cells, Zula noted a large amount of grit and dust on the floor, as well as faint footprints that led to one wall. A careful inspection of it revealed a hidden seam, and with a little effort, she was able to push aside an entire section of the wall, revealing a corridor beyond.

A single door stood in the lefthand wall of the passage before it continued on into darkness and then turned a corner. Mazael paused at the door, and then shoved it open before Boris could have a chance to examine it, earning himself a scowl of disgust from the goblin. A brazier in the corner of the room beyond glowed faintly with red coals, its smoke reminiscent of the stench of scorched flesh. A short bed with a headboard carved with the image of an open-mouthed demon stood against one wall, and a small table cluttered with books, scrolls, and a stuffed and mounted stirge sat across from it. A magic circle had been scribed in the center of the floor with chalk. Torn papers, bits of old food, and other debris were scattered about the room, collecting in corners and under the bed and table.

"I sense something," Helgarvarl spoke from Mazael's brow just as the war-priest heard a faint scuttling sound coming from under the bed.
Suddenly, a severed hand, easily the size of a shield and crawling along on its fingers, launched itself from beneath the bed towards Mazael. As it became momentarily airborne, it curled into a fist and slammed into his mid-section, forcing the breath out of him in a whoosh. It landed back on its fingertips, but before it could leap again, Lucian sent a pair of arrows into it. This gave Mazael time to regain his composure and bring Suishen crashing down on the horror. As the blade nearly split the hand in two, it erupted with putrid fluid that doused the war-priest, leaving him retching and gagging.

_____________________________________________________________________

The secret hall continued around a corner and ended in another descending stairwell leading into Ravenscraeg's sub-cellar. Boris took the lead, not trusting Mazael's ham-handed tactics. It was lucky for the group that he did, for just at the bottom of the stairs his sharp eyes spotted a small tripwire from which several small bells dangled.
"No step there," he pointed out to the others as he hopped over.
His companions followed his lead.

Another hallway lead off the stairwell, and at a point, it widened into a small chamber with a door on the south side, banded with wide straps of iron and bearing a large, heavy lock. A single brazier provided dim light to the area. Before they had even gotten a good view of the chamber, however, the heroes could hear moaning and shuffling. In the dim light, at least a dozen walking corpses milled aimlessly about, all Ulfens in various states of decay. As the zombies turned towards the intruders, Spivey flew above them, her body aflame with holy light as she channeled Desna's power. The walkers recoiled in pain, and boils and blisters erupted from their putrid flesh. They didn't pause for long, however, and came shambling forward en masse, completely clogging up the hallway ahead. Mazael stepped forward and held aloft his own holy symbol, channeling Desna's might again. This time, all but four of the zombies erupted into flames and fell into piles of smoldering ash. Those final four fell a moment later as they were blasted apart by Zula's thundering voice.

Shalelu stepped forward past the ruined corpses, her brow furrowed.
"What's that?" she asked pointing towards the wall opposite the one with the door.
She had spied a small crack there that seemed to be widening before her eyes into another doorway. Suddenly, she felt the ground moving beneath her feet. She looked down as a pit, ten-feet across and at least twenty-feet deep opened right under Lucian and herself. Both of them jumped clear, with the elven ranger landing on the far side, but separated from the rest of her companions. From within the new doorway, a solitary figure had appeared. He was humanoid, but beyond that Shalelu could not guess his race. His skin was mottled and green, and large tusks grew from his lower jaw, but he was tall and lanky, not like an orc or hobgoblin. He carried a large pickaxe in one hand, and a necklace of small bones and fetishes hung from around his neck. She didn't wait for an introduction before she drew and loosed three arrows. Two deflected off the creature's chain shirt, but the third found its mark, knocking him back a pace or two. She turned to see what had become of the others, and was relieved to see Mazael walking on thin air over the pit, while Piotr got a running start and leaped, though not particularly gracefully, over the pit. As he landed, his hand flared with light that he threw into the rival spellcaster's eyes. The creature reeled, rubbing at his eyes, and clutching at his throat at Piotr's magic momentarily stole his breath and robbed him of his voice.

At that moment, a brown-furred blur streaked over the heads of the companions and landed crouched on the far side of the pit.
"Neko??" Boris gasped, his mouth hanging open.
The varra grinned and winked over his shoulder at the goblin.
"Looks like I came back just in time to save you again, Master!" he laughed, and then darted towards the mute and dazzled Goti Runecaster, for that was whom the heroes faced.
Neko came to a stop right beside the sorcerer, his bow drawn tight from point-blank range.
"Not so big when you can't speak spells, are you?" he taunted.
Goti's still-watering eyes turned on Neko balefully, and then, disconcertingly, an evil smile spread over his face. His features clenched in concentration, and then, before Neko's startled eyes, he abruptly grew to twice his original size, his arms rippling with muscle like corded steel. The little varra took a step back, and then pumped three arrows in rapid succession into Goti's chest. He grunted, but it was rage that showed on his face rather than pain. As Neko tore more shafts from his quiver, Goti raised his now-enormous pick in both hands over his head.
"Neko, move!" Boris shouted, but it was too late.
Goti Runecaster drove down with the pick-axe, burying the point through the top of Neko's head. The varra went at first rigid, and them completely limp, sliding to the ground, blood and brain tissue leaking from his eyes and nose.
"Damn it!" Lucian cursed as he ran towards the pit and leaped.
His boots touched the far side, his arms pinwheeling. He struggled for a moment to catch his balance, but then the weight of his pack and quiver pulled him back, and he toppled over the edge.

Zula cursed as well, but she formed her words into a sonic blast that rocked Goti on his heels. Then Mazael was there and he slashed with Suishen, the sword shouting its encouragement into his mind. Piotr followed this up by conjuring a rolling ball of fire and sending it into Goti's feet. The giant sorcerer roared, his voice returned. He raised his pick again, this time over Mazael's head, but before he could strike, Zula spoke the words to a spell, and covered the haft of the weapon in a greasy coating. It slipped from Goti's grasp and clattered to the floor. He snarled and cast his own spell, opening another pit beneath Zula and Piotr. Both of them leaped clear at the last second. He then bent to recover his weapon, and Mazael struck him again. As Goti rose to his feet again, he swung back, connecting solidly with the war-priest, driving him back. Mazael, blood dripping from his face, gripped Suishen in both hands and charged back in, driving the katana through the sorcerer's heart. Goti toppled, returning to his normal size as he died.

_____________________________________________________________________

Boris stood silently over Neko's ruined form. The others kept a respectful distance while the goblin bid his friend farewell.
"Boris come back for you," he said. "Bury you in special monkey place with lots of bananas."
He sniffed, wiped his eyes, and turned back to his companions.
"Boris ready," he said flatly. "Let's see who left here to kill."

The large padlocked door proved to be a challenge. When Boris examined it, he found faint runes etched into the locking mechanism, a telltale sign of a magical ward. Fishing through his lock picks, he found a specially enchanted rasp and set to work scouring the rune clean before opening the lock itself. He was rewarded when he found that beyond the door was a veritable trove of valuables gathered into one place. Chests overflowed with gold and silver ornaments. Crates held trade bars of precious metals. Ornate, gilded drinking horns peeked out of a burlap sack, and coffers spilled forth gold and silver coins in quantities rarely seen in that part of the world. It looked they had found the bulk of the funds that Thorborg Silverskorr had been diverting from the Rimerunners.
"If only Neko still alive to see this," Boris bawled, tears of sorrow and joy streaming down his face.

The hallway continued on and rounded another corner, revealing yet another stair that descended to a trio of alcoves flanking an ornate double door. Standing in each alcove was a bronze statue depicting a warrior dressed in the ornate garb and armor of a warrior of distant Tian Xia. Beneath their broad helmets, the statues wore demonic face masks with snarling, fanged maws, while their hands clutched gracefully curved swords in poses of battle. Boris led the way to the doors, eyeing the statues in distrust as he passed between them. He listened at the door, and then pulled back.
"More water," he said.
Mazael grimaced, and then grabbed one of the opening rings. Just as he began to pull, however, the noise of stone scraping on stone drew his gaze upward. The statues had begun to move! One of them lumbered out of its alcove towards Shalelu, who snapped off a shot as it approached, only to see her shaft bounce from its stone hide, leaving only a small nick behind. Lucian tried the same trick with much the same results. Another one next to Mazael brought its katana down, slashing into his arm. He spun on his heel, counterstrikeing with Suishen, though when the sword connected, Mazael felt the reverberations all the way in his teeth.

Boris found himself trapped in the middle of all three statues, a place where he absolutely did not want to be. He ran, ducking into a low tumble, trying to dart through the legs of the golems, but he was just a hair too slow. As he darted past the last one, its katana opened a gaping wound down the back of his leg. The guardian turned to follow the limping goblin, but then Piotr hurled a flaming sphere into its path, trying to slow it down long enough to let Boris make his getaway. The ball bounced harmlessly off the statue, and it continued to lumber inexorably forward. Zula, seeing that Piotr's magic had no effect on the construct, tried another tactic. She conjured a puddle of slippery grease beneath its feet, as well as a second one. The first's legs came out from beneath it, sending it crashing to the floor, while the next in line simply couldn't gain any purchase to keep moving.

Lucian tried to ply his arrows again now that the momentum of the guardians had stalled, and though his shots were true, they failed to do more than scratch the surface of their stoney hides. The fallen golem climbed laboriously to its feet, but as it did so, Mazael lunged towards it, slashing with Suishen again. However, when he took his eyes away from the third guardian, it struck, driving its own blade deep into the war-priest's spine, sending him to his knees. Then, it was Piotr's turn to learn from his mistake. Following Zula's example, instead of trying to ply his magic directly upon the golems, he instead created a glitterdust cloud, unsure if statues could, in fact, be blinded. His question was answered a moment later when all three of the guardians began to stumble about aimlessly. Zula quickly followed this with her thundercall, and the impact of the blast sent one of them to the ground again as it slipped in the grease. Mazael, having levered himself painstakingly back to his feet, drove Suishen into that one's head, shattering it completely, and it did not rise again. After that, Boris darted back into the fray, stabbing at the joints of the remaining golems. Zula's voice blasted them again, and Mazael continued to deal devastating damage with the Amatasu ancestral blade until the last one crumbled.

______________________________________________________________________

After the companions had a chance to tend their wounds, they turned once more to the pair of doors the samurai statues had been guarding. Mazael pulled them both open wide, revealing a vast, impressive chamber. The interior had been transformed into a multilevel architetural wonder. The room was divided into two tiers, the upper one lying twenty feet above the lower, and rotated forty-five degrees. The peak of the ceiling rose to a pyramid sixty feet above the floor. The diagonal orientation of the upper tier formed four twenty-foot high ledges above teh walls of the lower tier. A fountain issued from the southernmost of those ledges, pouring in a waterfall to a decorative pool in the floor containing several ruby-hued koi. Black-lacquered folding screens had been set at various places about the room, creating a veritable maze of panels. As soon as the doors were opened, the companions heard a female voice from somewhere within the labyrinth.
"Welcome to Ravenscraeg and my twisted pagoda," she said. "You have been very busy, and you have caused me no end of trouble."
Abruptly, the voice changed. Though there was still something about it that identified it as female, it had become deep, guttural and booming.
"I trust you have enjoyed my hospitality," it continued, now seeming to come from somewhere above them. "Prepare to enjoy it one final time!"

Boris quickly darted into the room and disappeared into the shadows of the lacquered screens. As he passed a passage between the barriers, he glanced down it and spied a figure crouched in the gloom. It was a ninja, but it did not seem to spot him. As quietly as he could, the goblin crept towards the assassin, and before it realized he was there, Boris slid his wakizashi between the man's ribs.

When the others heard the commotion from within the maze, they all began to move, spreading out among the screens. As Shalelu stepped around a corner, a flash of movement caught her eye as another black-clad ninja darted at her and thrust a blade into her belly. She grunted and fell back, trying to bring up her bow to deflect the assassin's next blow, but then she heard a small but powerful voice call out from above her.
"HALT!" Spivey shouted, clutching her holy symbol in her hand and pointing it at the ninja.
To Shalelu's amazement, the man complied, coming to a stop and simply staring up at the azata. A moment later, the ninja erupted into flames as Piotr stepped into view, fire spewing out of his fingertips.

At that moment, the air above the companions filled with frigid air and razor-sharp ice crystals, blasting aside several of the screens, and rolling over Lucian, Shalelu and Mazael. As the blast cleared, a giant could be seen hovering on high. Clad in beautiful armor, the exotically garbed creature roared, its tusks glistening and its eyes afire with murderous intent. She carried a large bow in her hands, and across her back rested an enormous spiked club. Mazael, his joints still stiff and frozen, ducked for cover, but found his path blocked by a pair of ninjas.
"Swift as the wind. Quiet as the forest. Conquer like the fire. Steady as the mountain," Suishen spoke into his mind.
Mazael grinned viciously as he crouched low and thrust the blade through his first enemy's chest, then rose, spinning, and took the other man's head from his shoulders.

Boris's opponent was bleeding profusely from the goblin's first cut. His second solved that problem by opening the ninja's throat. Behind him, two more ninja appeared. One of them slashed at Piotr, but then both of them were blown off their feet by Zula's thundercall. One of them did not rise again, and when the other tried to, Piotr blasted him with a volley of magic missiles.

Lucian tried to shake the chill from his bones as his numb fingers gripped his bowstring. He brought the bow up and loosed at the giantess still hovering above the fray. To his amazement, on of his shafts went straight through her left eye. She screamed a high, ululating cry that chilled the oracle even more than the cold blast had.
"Keep her distracted!" Mazael shouted at him as he ran past.
The war-priest closed to Boris, and touched the goblin with Suishen.
"The quality of decision is like the well-timed swoop of a falcon which enables it to strike and destroy its victim," Suishen said to Boris as the little rogue suddenly felt himself become lighter than air.
"You're with me!" Mazael snarled.
Lucian kept up his barrage as Mazael and Boris charged into the air. Mazael reached the ogress first, but as he closed, she dropped her bow and drew her massive club in one swift movement, smashing it into the war-priest's chest. Boris used the opportunity to somersault through the air behind her, where he slashed viciously behind her knees. She screamed again as she flew towards the floor, swinging wildly at Lucian, whose arrows still peppered her. He club connected solidly with the oracle, flinging him against a far wall, where he lay stunned. Shalelu quickly took up where her apprentice left off, sending her own volley at the fiend. The ogress turned towards her, only to find Mazael, blood dripping from his mouth, standing above her. Suishen's flames flared as the war-priest swung, and the blade practically sang with power as it opened the oni's throat, spilling her life's blood to the floor. She sank to her knees, her remaining eye going dim before she collapsed completely.

"What the ancients called a clever fighter is one who not only wins, but excels in winning with ease," Suishen said. "You have earned the title of Scion of House Amatatsu. I shall continue to reveal my full power to you."
Mazael's eyes opened wide as the sword disclosed another of its secrets: the ability to resist even the most frigid of colds. He had the feeling this would be invaluable where they would soon by journeying.


7 Pharast, 4715-7 Desnus, 4715

A thorough search of the twisted pagoda of Kimandatsu turned up no sign of Ulf Gormundr, but Boris did come across a secret panel hidden away in a far corner. It was securely locked, but fortunately they had found of a set of keys on the oni's body. There was a passage beyond the door that carried a noticeable chill. Around a corner stood a pair of heavy wooden doors, one on each side of the hall, both secured with large locks. The companions paused before the first door, and Boris found a key on the ring that fit that lock. He unlatched it and pushed open the heavy door...to find himself face-to-muzzle with a white-furred wolf the size of a grizzly bear, with a rime of frost around its snarling mouth.

Boris waited for the wolf's jaws to clamp down over his head, his eyes squeezed shut. When his death did not immediately come, he partially opened one eye and saw that the beast was still poised, a low growl emanating from deep in its chest.
"That's a winter warg," Piotr said quietly from behind Boris. "They are highly intelligent. Let me try and speak with it. Keep your mouth shut, and don't move."
The sorcerer stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"We have no quarrel with you," he began. "We are here searching for a friend, and we have been accosted continuously by the denizens of this keep. Judging by the large lock on the outside of your door, I assume you may have been held prisoner by these same individuals. If so, then our interests may be in alignment."
"If not, then we kill you like we kill them!" Boris burst out, puffing up his chest.
Piotr hissed, and Zula snatched Boris behind her.
"Please," Piotr continued, "ignore that. I assure you that we mean you no harm...if you can say the same."
The wolf's cold, blue eyes glittered in the torchlight, but the growl grew quiet, and its lips once more covered its fangs.
"What has become of the ogre mage?" he asked in a distinctly masculine voice.
"She is dead," Piotr replied, "at our hands. You can see for yourself if you like. May I ask how you came to be here?"
"I was taken unawares from my home at the Crown of the World by that treacherous creature," the wolf replied. "She thought to tame and train me as one might a dog. I showed her differently, so she left me here to rot."
"The Crown of the World?" Piotr asked. "The man we are looking for is to be our guide for an expedition there. Do you know of other captives here?"
"I have heard pathetic human screams from further down the passage," the wolf replied. "You're going to the Crown of the World? Do you wish to die so fervently?"
"Not at all," Piotr shook his head. "But we must traverse it to reach the lands of Tian Xia. Is there anything you can tell us of the dangers we might encounter?"
The wolf issued a short bark, which might have been a laugh. "The dangers are as many as the hairs in my coat! Your human guide might know the way, but only one such as I can truly prepare you for the perils you will face."
"Is that an offer, Mr....?"
"Skygni," the wolf said, and then shrugged his massive shoulders. "I am returning home in any event. There is strength in a pack. I could accompany you, seeing as how you have done me a service this day."
Piotr looked to his companions, who nodded their agreement.
"It may be several days before we are ready to depart Kalsgard," he said to Skygni.
"Fine," the wolf replied. "I will meet you outside the walls of the human settlement in a fortnight. If you do not come, I will leave without you."
With that, he shouldered his way into the passage and then trotted back the way they'd come.

_____________________________________________________________________

Kimandatsu's keys also unlocked the last door in the hallway. Inky darkness filled the inside of the chamber on the other side, along with a stale, fishy smell mixed with the stench of unwashed bodies. The sound of dripping water and a low moan echoed through the still air. Boris's eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and he could see that the northwest corner of the room was flooded with tepid water, creating a shallow pool. Crouched in that water were a trio of frog-like creatures the size of short, stocky humanoids with webbed feet and claws, and glowing white eyes. Nearer to hand, curled into a fetal position, was an Ulfen man. He wasn't moving, and Boris could not tell if he was breathing.

The little goblin walked confidently into the room while his companions watched from the doorway. He went to the Ulfen, and bent down to listen for any signs of life.
"He just sleeping," Boris called over his shoulder, "or unconscious. Same difference."
He then turned towards the frog creatures, who were all staring at him.
"Hello frog-people," he waved. "We here to free you. That what we doing today...freeing everyone...wolfs, frogs, humans...all free!"
In response, the eyes of the creatures suddenly blazed with blinding light as they rushed forward. Boris's vision went white, and then he couldn't see anything anymore.

Though the light was intense, Lucian could still see well enough to put two arrows in the closest creature headed for Boris. The second little beast leaped towards Mazael, whose sight was also nothing but dazzling spots. The war-priest, however, was accustomed to fighting under less than ideal conditions, and with a bit of guidance from Suishen, he timed his strike perfectly to colide with the frog-thing just as it landed in front of him. Behind him, Zula had been struck blind as well, but she had had enough time to glimpse the layout of the room before that, and she hurled her thunderous voice towards the center of the chamber. The resulting concussion killed two of the things outright, and then Lucian fired another pair of arrows at the last one just as it raked its claws at Boris, dropping it before it could inflict more damage.

______________________________________________________________________

It took some time for the vision of the companions to clear, and for Spivey to tend to the wounds of the Ulfen man. He was disoriented once he regained consciousness, and at first shied away from the strange individuals surrounding him.
"Be at ease," Piotr said reassuringly. "Are you Ulf Gormundr? If so, we have been looking for you. Uksahkka asked us to find you."
"Uksahkka?" the man asked. "Is she with you? Is she safe?"
"She dead," Boris blurted, earning him another withering glare from Piotr, and a slap on the back of his head from Mazael.
"Yes," Piotr confirmed. "We only received word of this recently. She was murdered by the same people who kidnapped you, but we have avenged her."
"She will not be avenged until every member of the Rimerunners Guild is dead at the point of my blade!" Ulf snarled.
"We actually believe that the Kalsgard chapter of the Rimerunners was a front for another, far more dangerous organization called the Five Storms," Piotr replied. "They reside in Tian Xia, and we are journeying there across the Crown of the World to bring them to justice. If you would guide us there, you could have your revenge."
Ulf's eyes smoldered with rage, and he nodded once, curtly.
"You have your guide," he said.

_______________________________________________________________________

Two days later found the companions and Ulf Gormundr back in Kalsgard. Koya was inconsolable when she learned of the loss of a second son, but after time spent in mediation and prayer with her fellow Desnans, Spivey and Mazael, she came to realize that her goddess had larger plans, and her boys had played their part in the tapestry. She was at peace.

Lute Haggersly had kept his word, and returned Haroldo's body to the caravan, where Koya had kept it in a gentle repose. The merchant had since revealed publicly the truth about Thorborg Silverskorr and the Rimerunners Guild. This had caused a major shake up among the Kalsgard guilds, and Sveinn Blood-Eagle has suspended the Rimerunners' operations and seized all of their assets while investigations were conducted. The Linnorm King then publicly distanced himself from his formal cordial relations with Silverskorr.

For their part in avenging his blood feud upon Asvig Longthews and Thorborg Silverskorr, Fynn Snaevald officially relinquished ownership of Suishen to the Scions. He also offered to invest 2000 gold pieces into Sandru's caravan in exchange for a cut of any profits. Sandru was most pleased.

After all of her help, and for the loyalty she had shown, the companions told Zula of the true nature of their quest, and Ameiko offered her an official place among them. The Thundercaller felt strangely drawn to the young Tian woman, and accepted the offer graciously. Still, Sandru felt like they were short-handed, and with the recent revelations of the lengths the Five Storms were willing to go to to stop them, he suggested that they look into hiring on a mercenary or two. In fact, he had already gone so far as to put up postings, and had already received several inquiries. The others were less than pleased, and even less so when they saw the motley crew that had answered the flyers. Sandru was determined, however, and Ameiko supported his decision. They waded through the interviewing process, weeding out 9 out of every 10 applicants, until only four remained.

The first of those deemed sort of worthy was, of all things, another goblin. He rode into the caravan grounds mounted on a shaggy wolf, and carrying a long, golden lance. He introduced himself as Nex, and was quite well-spoken...compared to Boris. He boasted of his jousting skills, and Boris liked him immediately. Mazael was less than enthusiastic. The second candidate was a human, Kelishite by the look of him, named Zane. He was dressed gaudily, with a large peacock plume jutting from his jauntily cocked cap, and leather boots that rose to his thighs. He bore a scimitar that he carried in a bejeweled sheath. He was happy to demonstrate his skills, hopping and dancing about like a fool, all the while spinning his sword about him like a dervish. No one was impressed. Third came a Mwangi screamer named Fang, armed with a large axe carved out of bone. He was monosyllabic, and spoke mostly in grunts, though when he swung his great axe, he nearly cleaved a fallen log in two with one stroke. Last was an elven woman dressed in simple robes. A small, delicate dragon sat upon her shoulder, and the only name she gave was Sly. She didn't walk into the camp, but instead floated gently out of the air. She demonstrated many strange magical abilities, which caused Piotr to mutter the word 'witchcraft' under his breath.

The companions debated the merits and drawbacks of each of the candidates at length, weighing their own current strengths and weaknesses, and what role they were most in need of. They had more than enough people who knew how to swing a blade or shoot a bow, especially since they intended on resurrecting Haroldo just as soon as the Amatasu Seal was recharged. In the end, despite Piotr's protests, it was decided that Sly best suited their needs. Her spells and skills would nicely complement the sorcerer's, who, even he grudgingly admitted, had been carrying the lion's-share of mystical mayhem up to that point. Contracts were signed and agreements were arrived at. Sandru estimated it would be approximately two weeks before the caravan would be ready to leave Kalsgard and, upon the advice of Ulf Gormundr, the companions would do well to equip themselves for a long, cold journey.

________________________________________________________________________

Two weeks later, Sandru's caravan pulled out of Kalsgard, bound for the Crown of the World. Just beyond the city, Skygni found them, and took up position in the fore of the train. The horses whinnied skittishly, but the drovers managed to keep them under the control, though the men muttered to themselves under their breaths, and forked the sign of the Evil Eye at the warg.

Over the next month, the caravan travelled through the Thanelands of the Linnorm Kings before following the line of the Stormspear Hills to reach the taiga and tundra beyond. At that point, the two Avistani ends of the Path of Aganhei joined together to cross the Rimethirst Mountains. Along the way, the companions were able to use the Amatatsu Seal to restore Haroldo to the land of the living and bring him up to speed on all that had transpired since his demise. He was not particularly saddened to hear about Neko's death.

It was on their second day on the Path of Aganhei that Skygni brought the caravan to a halt when he stopped abruptly and lifted his muzzle into the air, sniffing intently.
"My brothers are near," he growled. "They will try and surround us. Prepare yourselves."
No sooner had he spoken, than four large shadows separated from the mists on all sides of the wagons. They were white-furred wargs, similar to Skygni, but slightly smaller than the big alpha. Boris quickly rolled underneath one of the wagons and hid himself behind the front wheel. From there he snapped off a shot from his bow into the nearest wolf, taking it through its left eye. At the front of column, Skygni lowered his head, a low menacing growl coming from his throat, and the fur on his back bristling. The warg in front of him adopted a similar pose, and then the two brutes charged one another, colliding with massive impact, teeth and claws ripping and tearing as they rolled through the snow. On the caravan's rear, Lucian fired off a barrage of arrows at the warg closing on him, while on the right flank, the final wolf charged at Piotr and Sly. Piotr prepared to unleash his magic upon the beast, but before he could, Sly stepped in front of him and her fingers wove a complex pattern. The wolf collapsed in mid-run, sliding to a stop mere inches from the witch, deep, rumbling snores echoing from its snout.

The half-blind, pain-maddened warg Boris had shot rushed towards the goblin, its jaws parting and a cloud of frost gathering there. At the last moment, Mazael stepped in front of it and absorbed the brunt of the frigid blast, Suishen's fiery glow bathing him and protecting him from the cold. The war-priest then reversed the blade and drove it through the wolf's throat, putting it out of its misery. Lucian continued to loose arrows at his wolf, and Shalelu joined him. With the combined barrage, the wolf never reached them. At the front of caravan, Skygni and his rival finally rolled to a stop, with the larger warg atop the smaller, it's throat in the alpha's jaws and its life's blood spilling onto the snow. Finally, Haroldo strode up to the sleeping warg and cut its head from its body.

"Well done," Ulf said as he walked among the corpses of the wolves, "but this was easy. We still have at least three months upon the Crown, and the danger is just beginning..,"


7 Desnus, 4715 - 22 Desnus, 4715

The caravan made its way through the tundral lands of what Ulf called the outer rim of the Crown. The weather was cool, but not unbearable, never rising above 40 degrees, but seldom dipping below freezing. Ulf explained that this was likely to due to the time of the year. The late Spring was the time of the Midnight Sun, where for twenty hours a day, the sun rode high and bright, and for the other four hours it only made it half way to the horizon. He warned them not to get to used to the relatively balmy weather, as the going would get much tougher once they reached the High Ice. Still, it was not unpleasant, and when they spied the aurora glimmering in the sky above them, it cheered them, especially when Koya told them all that this was a good omen.

As the caravan descended the northern flanks of the Rimethirst Mountains that formed the frontier of the Crown of the World, they entered a rugged hill country. Ulf informed the companions that the blustery, wind-carved badlands and folded hills of Urjuk were once home to a collection of giant realms. While some giants still wandered the tundra or the High Ice farther north, the Giant Downs themselves lay desolate and largely unoccupied. Still, Urjuk was remembered as an ancient homeland, and Ulf said that many giants still came there to die or be buried in the lands of their ancestors. When the caravan made camp for the first time in hills, the scouts spotted the shape of a large, solitary wolf on a distant ridge.
"Another of your kin?" Mazael asked Skygni.
The worg lifted his muzzle from his paws where he'd been resting and looked up at the ridge.
"Ignore him," he said after a moment, closing his eyes again. "Likely just a loner checking up on trespassers in his territory. He won't attack a group this big."
Boris wasn't convinced. Since they now had a winter wolf as a traveling companion, he had become more and more curious about the nature of the creatures. Most of the experience he'd ever had with wolves was with the non-talking kind who tried to eat your, or steal your sheep. While the others busied themselves with the normal camp activities, the goblin stole away into the rocky hills, carrying with him a rabbit carcass he'd liberated from the caravan stores.

Boris crested the ridge, still moving stealthily and clinging to what little shadows the midnight sun allowed. He saw the great wolf crouched there, peering out from between two large boulders.
"I can smell you, little rat," the wolf growled.
"I bring a gift for you," Boris called from his hiding place. "We travel with wolf just like you. We be friends!"
"Do not compare me to some whipped cur," the wolf snarled. "You and your kind had best move on from this place with all haste. You are trespassing on hallowed ground. Stick to the trail. If you stray from it, your lives will be forfeit."
"Boris understand," the goblin replied. "You still take gift."
He tossed the rabbit and then scurried back down the hill. He didn't bother to inform the others of his little side trek.

______________________________________________________________________

The following day, the caravan continued their journey through the Giant Downs, but about mid-day, Skygni and Ulf spotted movement among the barrows on all sides. They just had time to warn the others before a quartet of white-skinned ice trolls descended upon them. While two of them attacked the fore and rear, meeting Skygni and Shalelu respectively, the other pair charged the flanks, mauling two of the drivers before they could react. They then tried to grab the unconscious Varisians and flee with them. Fortunately, the companions rallied quickly, and through a combination of Mazael and Suishen, Piotr's fireball, Shalelu's acid bow, Sly's slumber hex, and Zula's thundercall, the giants were dealt with decisively. The drivers were badly wounded, but not mortally, and with Spivey's and Koya's healing magics, they were brought back to health, though perhaps still mentally traumatized.

As they travelled on through the day, Boris spotted the big wolf pacing them in the distance from time to time. At one point, he even thought he saw another large figure standing with the wolf, this one on two legs. Rather than concern him, this only served to further intrigue the goblin, and when the caravan again stopped to rest, Boris found that he could not help himself. He simply HAD to go and see one of the giant burial barrows for himself. He waited until most of the camp was asleep, and then scuttled off into the shadows once again. The nearest barrow was perhaps a hundred yards from the caravan. To all appearances, it was simply a large hill, with sparse grass growing atop it. Boris's sharp eyes, however, managed to spot an inconsistency in the irregular stone, and when he examined it more closely, he was able to trace the outline of a large, concealed doorway. He found a hidden latch, and when he flipped it, the door slid inward. Inside was a hollow space that contained a stone bier. Laid out upon it were the skeletal remains of a giant, white hair and beard still clinging to dry flesh. It was dressed in armor, and bore a great axe across its breast, but a quick glance told Boris that there was nothing of real value there. Satisfied, he exited the tomb and closed the door behind him, then slipped back into camp.

It was still an hour before true dawn when the attack came. The scouts had rigged several early warning devices around the camp, including animal traps, trip wires and alarm bells, and these were their first indications of trouble. The assault came from two sides. To the north, the massive winter wolf stalked out of the morning mists, accompanied by a second, smaller companion, while to the south, what looked like a roiling fog cloud appeared as if out of nowhere. Shalelu, who'd been on watch, was the first to respond. Kneeling, she fired a pair of arrows into the smaller wolf, causing it to stumble in mid-charge. To her left, she saw Zula, also awake, and the Thundercaller hammered the wolf the with force of her voice, leaving it stunned and staggering. Another shot from the ranger's bow took it down within a matter of seconds.

Boris didn't know what to make of the wall of mist on the far side of the camp, so naturally he darted right into it. He immediately wished he hadn't, for standing concealed in the fog was the biggest giant he'd ever seen. It was easily twenty feet tall, with pale blue skin and a snow white beard and hair. He bore an enormous axe in his hands, and as Boris stared up wide-eyed at him, he raised it into the air and ran roaring out of the mist.
"YOU WERE WARNED!" he bellowed as he charged straight towards Mazael. "YOU VIOLATED THE HOUSES OF THE DEAD!"
Mazael tried to bring Suishen up defensively, but it was like standing in the path of a hurricane. The mighty frost giant overran the war-priest, and brought his axe down upon Mazael as he fell. The giant didn't pause, and let his momentum carry him straight into Skygni, whom he cleaved with another huge blow from his blade. The winter wolf howled and snarled, but didn't fall back. Instead, he leaped for the giant and locked his jaws around its calf, hanging on for dear life.

Mazael rose groggily to his feet, only to have the giant hammer-blow him a second time. Then the brute turned its attention back to Skygni, but before he could strike, an explosion of fire detonated around his head as Pitor rolled out of the back of the wagon were he'd been sleeping. As the giant reeled backwards, Skygni shook and twisted his leg, tripping him up and sending him crashing to the ground. Suddenly, the air was filled with an animal-like scream as Haroldo came charging, naked, out of another wagon, his sword (and other things) swinging. He drove it into the giant's breast, piercing his heart.

Meanwhile, Lucian, Shalelu and Zula managed to bring down the other winter wolf, while Ulf delivered the killing blow. As the dust cleared and the companions regrouped, Piotr was the first to speak.
"What did he mean when he said we'd violated the houses of the dead?" the sorcerer asked.
All eyes turned immediately to Boris, who quickly slunk away into the shadows beneath the wagons.

___________________________________________________________________

Four days later, the caravan left the Giant Downs behind. The Path of Aganhei then crossed a wide tundra basin before turning northwest, skirting the Gaarjuk Hills and heading into the eastern lake country of Hasanaliat. At this point, Ulf Gormundr told the group that they had a choice to make.

"The primary route of the Path of Aganhei runs northwest through the Erutaki lands of Hasanaliat," he said. "It skirts the Bearleg Lakes and the Gaarjuk Hills, and then north of the hills it follows the Taraska River through the high tundra of Hoarwell March towards the town of Unaimo, the last major trading village before it climbs onto the High Ice through the Koumssa Gap. This route is easier and faster, but the lands it crosses are more inhabited, potentially exposing us to unfriendly eyes. I suggest an alternate route north directly through the Gaarjuk Hills. This will cut off a wide bend of our route and avoid the more civilized lands. However, the hill country is far more rugged and remote, with fewer chances for us to resupply or seek help if trouble should ensue. We would still need to ford the Taraska, and with greater difficulty than along the main route, and then link back up with the Path."
The others deferred to the guide's greater experience, and the decision was made to divert through the hill country.

On 22 Desnus, the caravan came into the small Erutaki village of Rimakak, which lay at the foot of a waterfall flowing into Lake Nallishoot. Ulf had visited the village in the past, and thought it might be a good place to rest and resupply. When the troupe pulled in, however, they found the lodges and huts completely deserted. Worse, they had been despoiled, with refuse, offal and filth smeared all about, and all of the furnishings smashed to splinters. No bodies nor blood could be found, however. It was fairly easy for the party scouts to determine that a large number of people had fled to the north recently, judging by the amount of booted footprints leading in that direction, as if a mass exodus of the entire population had occurred. There was something else, though: a smaller number of bare foot prints led towards the frozen lake. These prints were large, as if from a creature ten-feet tall or more, and the toe marks bore deep claw indentations, and it was apparent that the feet were webbed.

It was decided that Shalelu, Sandru, Koya, Ameiko, Ulf , Spivey and Skygni would stay behind and guard the caravan while the others followed the strange tracks onto the lake to see if they could discover what might have befallen the Erutaki. The prints led out into the middle of the lake before they abruptly vanished. It was then that Boris, Zula and Sly simultaneously spotted large, dark shadows moving just below the ice. Before they could warn their companions, the ice directly beneath Piotr cracked and fractured. A nightmarish creature reached up from the depths and wrapped its arms around the sorcerer. It resembled a monstrous humanoid woman with a lumpy, scaled hide and lank, tangled black hair. It wore ragged sealskin garments decorated with numerous shells and tiny living crustaceans. A curiously sweet smell wafted from her. Then the ice began breaking all around the companions as other creatures surged up from below. The new arrivals were giants with pale green, scaled skin and large, webbed hands and feet. On either side of their necks were slotted gills. There were eight of them in total. Two of them slammed their big fists into Haroldo and Mazael, while another pair hammered at Piotr, driving him underwater with his captor. She wrapped her arms more tightly around his, pinning them to his side, and then, before the horrified eyes of his friends, Piotr began to transform. His skin shaded towards bluish green, and his eyes became bulbous as gill slits formed on his neck.

Above, Mazael stepped into the air, under Suishen's spell, and surged towards one of the aquatic ogres, the katana opening the creature from stem to stern, spilling its bowels onto the ice. Sly rose into the air on her own magic, and flung one of her hexes towards another of the creatures, causing it to roll onto its back in the water, snoring loudly. Haroldo jumped nimbly across the ice floes, landing adjacent to one of the brutes, and then beheading it with a swing of his great sword. He then turned and slashed at another, which fell a moment later to Lucian's bow. Four more fell stunned in the water as Zula's voice boomed across the valley. The Shoanti then turned her attention to freeing Piotr. She cast a spell of grease upon the sorcerer, enabling him to wriggle free of the woman's grasp. Piotr struggled to the surface, gasped for air, then wove his own spell, causing his body to rapidly blink in and out of resistance as he swam for the shore, the horrid transformation already beginning to reverse itself.

Boris dove into the frigid lake, trying to swim around and beneath the hag. When he reached her, he thrust his blade into her back, but it was if he'd stabbed a slab of iron. She spun swiftly in the water, her black eyes meeting his, and then she cocked her head quizzically.
"You might just be the one...," she said, almost to herself.
Boris felt strange. He couldn't remember why he'd been attacking this lovely creature. She reached out a taloned hand and gently caressed his cheek.
"Breath," she said, and he found that he could.
He opened his mouth and drew in freezing water, yet it was no different than breathing air.
"Swim down, my love," she said. "Wait for me on the bottom. I'll be along. I have a gift for you."
"Boris like gifts, mer-lady," the goblin nodded enthusiastically, and then he swam down into the depths of the lake.

Mazael and Haroldo made quick work of the stunned merrow in the water, while Lucian picked off the one snoozing on its back. Soon the lake was quiet again. Piotr had made it back to shore safely, and Zula had followed to make sure no other dangers were lurking. Sly circled above, but could see no new enemies below the ice. It was only then that the companions noticed that Boris was nowhere in sight...and the strange, water hag was gone as well...


INTERLUDE

Boris looked around in fascination at the foreign landscape of the lakebed. He was equally amazed by the fact that he was actually breathing water! Beside him, his strange new friend swam in silence.
"Queen of the Deep," he said at last, trying to pass the time, "Boris appreciate you inviting him to your home and giving him the ability to breath water, but Boris don't think it was very nice of you to hug his friend Piotr the like that. Not to mention your other friends were very mean to Boris's friends. On other hand YOU are very nice, especially giving Boris this lovely trip to bottom of lake. We should work on our friends' not liking each other, teach them to be more like you and Boris. Take Boris's word, these humans are not very trusting and actually very racist. Unlike your generosity, it takes a lot to make them accept you into their home as friend. We can teach them a thing or two, if you ask Boris. When we get to your underwater palace, Boris would like to make you a special salmon and seaweed wrapped sandwich. See? You give Boris gift, and Boris make you sandwich. Fair trade, yes?"
"Your 'friends' just killed all of my children," she replied flatly.
Boris had no answer to that.

After awhile, they reached a cave deep below the surface. The interior held an odd array of fish bones, kelp, shell art, and scattered coins, as well as pieces of armor and a few scattered weapons. Once inside, Boris's host turned towards him.
"My name is Arnaalak," she said, "and I am a qallupilluk. I have lived in this lake, for some time, and for many years I had kept my distance from the villagers. However, I was also very lonely, and I thought it was time I paid my neighbors a visit. At first, they showed me respect, and invited me to a feast. When I demanded, as was my right, the honored portion of the feast, they agreed, but when one of their women came to serve me, the fool spilled the food all over me! I knew this was a deliberate insult, meant to taunt me! I was enraged, so I cursed the villagers and returned to my lake. I soon came back to the village, however, and began luring their children away, one by one, to take my revenge. I transformed them into the creatures that you saw, and when the village warriors came looking for them, it pleased me to have them die at the hands of their own mutated children, who now called me mother."
Boris thought for a moment, and then chose his words wisely.
"Well, Boris completely understand why you were offended by these humans. They were very stupid to have insulted you in such a way as to toss food on you. Boris care more about you and food than to do such things."
Arnaalak continued to stare at him with her black, pupil-less eyes.
"You see why they taunted me, yes?" she asked. "They knew I was childless, and they had many children. The cow that spilled food on me was even pregnant! They wanted to rub my face in it! But now," she lowered her gaze. "Now, their children...my adopted children...lay dead at the hands of your friends!"
Boris tensed, his hands sliding towards his swords.
"Then I saw you, and I had a revelation," she continued. "You see, my kind do not produce offspring very often. We are all females, and must mate with males from other aquatic races, but even then, children are rare. We have more luck when we mate with land dwellers that we have transformed. That is why I chose you. I want you to be my mate."

Looking her in the eyes, Boris again tiptoed around his words.
"Boris will be happy to do sexy things with you, but Boris does not want to be a Mer-King. He want to be goblin. Please do not take offense to Boris turning down this offer, but Boris is on quest that he has promised to complete. The Gods have revealed this to Boris in his fortunes through the Harrow Cards. You understand Boris, yes?"
Arnaalak looked a little disappointed, a little sad, and a little...angry. Then, a look of inspiration came into her eyes.
"The change is not permanent unless I sacrifice a portion of my own life force for you," she said. "I can change you, we can consummate our love, and then you will change back in one hour. If you agree, I will give you this."
She retrieved a gleaming, golden breast plate from the clutter and showed it to Boris.
"If you don't...I might have to eat you."
She smiled when she said that, and winked.
Boris nodded his head, but with reservation.
"If you will you give Boris your WORD as Mer-Queen," he replied, "that you allow Boris to continue on his journey to save the world. As you know, this very important to Boris and the rest of world. Boris need to finish this quest as goblin, but willing to be mer-man for little while. Boris realize he very irresistible and is willing to help new friend make the royal baby."
Arnaalak grinned horribly, and nodded as well. Boris began to remove his armor in a very seductive way....for a goblin.

After...Boris was true to his word, and made his lady-love a delicious salmon and kelp sandwich. She did indeed gift him with the golden breastplate, and in turn, he gave her a silver ladle he had filched from Ravenscraeg. An hour or so later, his transformation ended, and he returned to his former goblin beauty. Arnaalak bid him farewell, but invited him to return to her if was ever that way again, and perhaps he could meet his daughter...


22 Desnus, 4715 - 2 Sarenith, 4715

The Scions stared in horror at the dead children scattered upon the ice at their feet. As the merrows had died, each of them had undergone a rapid transformation, leaving behind the broken bodies of the Erutaki young.
"We couldn't have known," Mazael said, shaking his head.
"That could have been me," Piotr murmured.
"What does this mean for Boris?" Lucian asked. "If that...creature has taken him, what will become of him?"
Mazael shook his head again. "Suishen can't sense him, but that doesn't mean much. This lake could be hundreds of feet deep. There's no way we're going to find him."
"If we wait until morning," Lucian said, "there is a prayer that I know which can locate a unique object, such as his kami armor."
"Tomorrow," Piotr sighed. "That may be all that's left of him by tomorrow."

They returned to the abandoned village and informed their traveling companions of all that had transpired. None of them had any better idea of how to find the missing goblin, and so they resigned themselves to waiting out the long night. No one noticed, or if they did, they gave no sign, that they were being watched very closely as the hours ticked by. In the morning, Lucian settled in for his meditation. When he'd finished, he gathered the others around him.
"This should work," he said, "but we have to prepare ourselves that the only thing we may recover is Boris's body. Even so, we owe him that much. We may even be able to use the Seal to restore him if that's what his spirit wants."
Suddenly, a loud honking sound, followed by hitching sobs drew their attention to one of the abandoned houses. From out of the shadows there, a small figure stepped.
"You DO love Boris!" the goblin wailed. "Boris watch all night to see if friends sad for him, and you are! Don't be sad tall people; Boris back!"
A chorus of groans, sighs, and a smattering of cheers (mainly from Koya and Spivey) greeted this 'triumphant' return.
"Would you care to tell us just what you've been up to?" Lucian asked. "And did you kill that murderous lake-hag?"
"You no talk like that about Boris' Mer-Queen!" the goblin snapped. "Boris went to underwater palace, and now he is king of entire underwater kingdom!"
Lucian rolled his eyes, and Mazael growled deep in his chest.
"What is it with you and monsters?" the war-priest asked. "First the tengu, then the harpy, now this...hag-thing?"
"Her name Arnaalak, and she is fine lady!" Boris protested. "Humans in village insult her big-time and throw food at her just because she not have baby! She get even with them by steal their babies!"
"And turning them into monsters, which we were forced to kill!" Lucian sputtered.
Boris shrugged. "There is that, but she really not so bad. She nice to Boris and let him return to friends. She also tell Boris information about road ahead."
"I'm not interested," Lucian spat, and turned away, shaking his head.
"Fine!" Boris called after him. "Then Boris not tell you about three-headed flying monsters, or cannibals! Oh...and Boris almost forget: dragons!"

___________________________________________________________________

Three days later found the caravan north of Lake Nallishoot, where the hills became more rugged with cliffs and wind-carved badlands laced with rocky stream-beds. Those countless, nameless streams gathered themselves together to form the Kluani River, a rock-strewn watercourse that flowed out of the hills to join the Taraska River in the tundra beyond. The curious echoes and labyrinthine pathways of the badlands made it difficult for the company to discern normal noises from things more sinister. The caravan's route led along the base of an east-west ridge that sheltered it from the ever-present north winds. It was from the top of this ridge that the companions first heard a distant, sharp 'crack' followed by an ominous roar. They looked up, and all eyes widened in horror as they saw the avalanche of cascading rocks and debris, over one-hundred feet wide, bearing down on them. Sandru lashed at the horses drawing the lead wagon, and called for the other drivers to follow him. The wagons lurched into a faster pace, with the scouts and guides running along beside. The full force of the avalanche came crashing down behind them, just missing the trailing wagon by a matter of yards, obliterating their back trail.

Sandru stood in his seat and looked back over his caravan, taking a mental head-count to assure himself that everyone was safe. As his eyes travelled up to the top of the ridge, however, they narrowed. Two winged shapes had launched themselves from there and were rapidly bearing down on the companions.
"Beware!" he cried in warning.
The creatures swept down, and they were terrible to behold. They had the white-furred bodies of powerful polar bears, but with three heads. The center of these was that of a white-scaled dragon, while the other two were those of a polar bear and a walrus. Their wings and tails were also draconic. Sandru grabbed his bow and quickly loosed an arrow at the lead beast. The shaft found its mark, but the chimera seemed not even to notice. It broke its dive directly above Sandru's wagon, hovering in mid-air, its wings whipping up a dervish of dust and grit. It's draconic mouth stretched open wide, and a blast of frigid ice burst from its throat. Sandru leaped from the wagon at the last instant, landing in a rolling somersault on the ground, unharmed. He looked over his shoulder, certain the creature would be bearing down on him, but instead he saw the furry bulk of Skygni leap onto the wagon. The winter wolf raised his muzzle and exhaled his own wintery breath up at the chimera, causing all three of its heads to roar in pain as a frosty rime covered them.

The second chimera charged the back of the caravan, where Shalelu was struggling to bring her bow to bear. It blasted her with its breath as it streaked by, leaving the ranger coated in a layer of frost that chilled her to the bone.
"Shalelu! Get clear!" Lucian cried.
The wood oracle fired a shot from his bow, his magic imbuing the shaft with greater weight as it left the string, causing it to strike with immense impact. It pierced the eye of the chimera's walrus head, and as the creature reeled, Lucian loosed a second shaft, taking it through its foreleg. As it circled for altitude, Shalelu's numb fingers drew back her bowstring and released, sending a third shaft into its rump before she darted for cover behind the nearest wagon.

The first chimera locked the jaws of its bear head around Skygni's throat. The great wolf howled, and then clamped his own fangs down on the dragon head's neck. While the two beasts grappled, Mazael charged in, Suishen's blade wreathed in flame. He struck the chimera across its flank, and it roared, its walrus head whipping around to impale one large tusk through the war-priest's leg. It raked its front claws across Skygni's belly, trying to free itself from the wolf, and tear his throat out at the same time. Suddenly, a ray of black light sprang from the outstretched hand of Sly and struck the chimera. Immediately, its form began to wither and shrivel as its very life force was drained. A moment later, Piotr hurled a bead of fire at it, which exploded into an expanding ball of fire, completely engulfing the creature, leaving it a charred husk as the blast threw Skygni and Mazael clear.

The remaining chimera wheeled around and launched itself at Lucian, its draconic jaws tearing at his shoulder as he tried to move out of the way. The force of the blow sent him stumbling, but when he turned back towards the monster, his bow was drawn taught, and he loosed another heavy arrow, sending this one into the forehead of the dragon head and the brain beneath. The chimera went rigid, then fell to the ground, jittering as if struck by lightning before going still.
"See?" Boris said as he emerged from his hiding place beneath one of the wagons. "Boris tell you mer-Queen speak true! Now you don't come running to Boris when cannibals eat you!"

_______________________________________________________________

Two days later, as the caravan made its way along the Kluani River, where the Gaarjuk hills sloped down to the Taraska floodplain, the travelers came upon a small collection of sod huts partially buried in the riverbank. As they drew closer, the Erutaki hunters emerged from their dwellings and waved their hands in greeting.
"It should be ok," Ulf said. "They may want to trade."

The wagon train stopped among the huts, and the headman approached.
"I am Taranaak, of the Silver Marten clan," he introduced himself. "Welcome to our camp. Come, share meat with us, and perhaps we can barter and share news."
The companions glanced at one another, and then at Ulf.
"It's customary," the guide murmured. "To refuse would be an insult."
The tribesmen brought out wooden platters laden with meat, and the caravaners partook...all but two. Piotr pretended to eat, but Boris's warning echoed in his mind. When he was sure no one was watching, he tossed his portion to Skygni. Sly also did not eat, but she was more obvious about it.
"Is something wrong?" Taranaak asked, tension in his voice.
"Have you heard anything about cannibals around here?" the witch asked innocently.
The rest of the caravan collectively held their breath.
"Of course!" Taranaak laughed. "To eat of the flesh of one's enemy is to embrace their spirit. It honors their sacrifice. Also, we cannot simply refuse the bounty of the land in this place of privation. Now you have tasted of it as well. Join us!"
"No thanks," Sly said, dropping the meat in disgust.
The others threw their portions to the ground as well, their faces registering various degrees of horror and outrage...all except Skygni, who continued to gnaw contentedly on a large haunch. Taranaak's face darkened angrily.
"You dare insult us so?" he snarled. "Leave now, or you will be our next meal!"
His warriors reached for their weapons.
"Come," Ulf said quickly, before the others could react. "We will go our own way."

______________________________________________________________

"This cannot stand!" Koya said angrily.
It was actually one of the few times Sandru could remember seeing his mother angry. The caravan had come to a halt, perhaps a mile beyond the Silver Marten clan's campsite.
"I have eaten of human flesh!" the old fortune-teller shouted. "Desna will not forgive me for this!"
Spivey nodded her head solemnly.
"There must be some sort of atonement," she said.
"Agreed!" Mazael snarled. "And I know just the thing!"
Koya looked at her fellow Desnans sharply, and there was a dangerous look in her eyes.
"For once, my old friend," she replied to the war-priest, "I am in agreement with your thirst for violence. Cannibalism is an abomination in itself, but for those people to lure in unsuspecting travelers and deceive them into participating in their vile rituals is too much to bear! How many more of Desna's beloved will fall victim to this practice, or worse, wind up in the cook pot themselves?"
"What are you suggesting, Mother?" Sandru asked quietly.
"We return to their camp," Koya said firmly. "We offer them the chance to renounce their wicked practice. If they do not, then our atonement must be made...in blood!"

_______________________________________________________________

When the caravan returned to the camp of the Silver Martens, they were met by a dozen of Taranaak's armed warriors, as well as the chieftain himself.
"You were warned not to return here!" he shouted across the distance between the two factions.
"And you have sinned in the eyes of Desna!" Koya called back. "We offer you the opportunity to repent and beg for the Traveler's mercy, and our forgiveness!"
As she spoke, Boris ducked beneath one of the wagons and quietly broke one of the snapleafs he carried his his belt pouch. As the leaf's magic rendered him invisible, he crept silently down the trail until he stood among the cannibals.
"Hah!" Taranaak barked in scornful laughter. "We do not recognize your weak southern gods! Come! Let us show you the power gained by consuming your foes!"

"Boris hear enough," the goblin grumbled as he stabbed one wakizashi through the groin of the nearest cannibal.
The man roared in pain, and swung his huge club at Boris, but the little rogue scampered nimbly away.
"Bring me their heads!" Taranaak commanded.
His men surged forward, their war cries blood-curdling. As they ran, their jaws seemed to elongate, and their canine teeth lengthened to sharp points. Ulf and Haroldo rushed forward to meet the onslaught, their weapons slicing bone and sinew wantonly. Lucian took a knee and sighted with his bow, then put one arrow neatly through Taranaak's shoulder, though the chief stood well behind his warriors. Several of the Erutaki charged past Ulf and Haroldo towards the main body of the caravan. Mazael moved to meet them, but he was quickly overwhelmed. Cannibals swarmed around him, clubbing and biting. He was granted a short moment of reprieve when Shalelu, with deadly accuracy, took down three of the warriors with her bow. Sly put another one to sleep with her hexes, and Mazael drove Suishen through that one's chest, making sure he would never wake again.

Suddenly, Ulf cried out a warning.
"Haroldo is down!" the Ulfen called.
Beside him, the blood-rager lay on the ground, loud snores echoing from his barrel chest. Sly's gaze went to Taranaak. She cursed herself for not having recgnized another witch, but his familiar had not been visible before. Now, a small, beady-eyed weasel sat twitching upon his shoulder.
"Wake him!" she screamed at Ulf.
"How?" the guide shrugged.
"Kick him in the slats!" Sly snapped.
Ulf looked dubious, but he did as she commanded, drawing back one big, booted foot and slamming its toe solidly into Haroldo's ribs. The blood-rager grunted and jerked awake, his eyes darting around in alarm. To his credit, his disorientation did not last long. He grabbed his sword from where it lay nearby and, though still flat on his back, swung it wide and took the legs from under the nearest cannibal, the force of the blow carrying the blade straight through and into the thigh of the next man. He then fought his way to his feet while bearing the vicious bites of another pair of the savages who closed on him.

Mazael continued to lay about him with Suishen, fighting to keep the cannibals away from his more vulnerable companions. As he brought another one down, his efforts finally bore fruit when Piotr detonated a fireball near Taranaak, immolating a quartet of his warriors, and blistering the chieftain's flesh. As he flailed about trying to put out the flames, an arrow from Lucian's bow caught him in the throat, and he fell, choking on his own blood. And with that, only three cannibals remained. Boris took one, launching himself from the shrubbery and stabbing the man through his spine. Mazael finished off another after Sly put him to sleep as the man turned to run, and Piotr finished the last one with a blast of magic missiles.

Koya walked among the dead, pausing to touch each of them as she passed, murmuring a quiet prayer to Desna.
"Burn them," she said. "Send their souls to the heavens, and may they be granted forgiveness."
The others silently obeyed, adding the stockpile of meat they found among the cannibals stores to the pyre.
Boris whispered to Lucian as he passed,"That twice Boris' mer-Queen right. Now you watch out for dragon!"

_____________________________________________________________

They continued their trek north, but a sudden blizzard halted their progress for three days, then slowed them further for another two days as they struggled through the deep drifts left behind. Finally descending from the hills into the northern tundra of the Hoarwell March, the caravan then journeyed another sixty miles to the great Taraska River. Following Ulf's advice, they travelled along the Kluani River until it joined the Taraska, where they found a fording. That, however, was the easy part. Navigating the marshes south of the river took several hours, and the crossing itself took several more. This was partly due to the fact that when the troupe was halfway across the river, they drew the attention of a trio of enormous freshwater pike, each over thirty-feet long!

The horses began to panic as the fish circled closer, and the drivers, including Sandru, struggled mightily to keep them from bolting. The archers, Lucian, Boris and Shalelu, stood atop the wagons peppering the pike with arrows, trying to keep them away from the horses. Spivey managed to stun one of them temporarily with a focused soundburst, while Sly actually put one to sleep. Unfortunately, as it rolled over on its side, the river current carried it violently into the side of one of the wagons, quickly rousing it once again. Skygni loped through the water towards one of the fish. He breathed his frigid breath on it as he charged, but before he could get any closer, the pike lunged at him, seizing the wolf in its jaws, and then shaking him violently.

The archers finally managed to bring down one of the great fish, and Mazael, using Suishen's power to walk across the air, rushed to Skygni's aid, slashing and cutting at the pike until it released the wolf and sank, bleeding, back into the water. Sly hurled a bolt of lightning from her fingertips at the last fish, but it still managed to leap out of the water and seize the witch. She went limp as its jaws crushed her mid-section. Lucian fired arrow after arrow at the beast, and Piotr released a magic missile barrage. The fish rolled over as it died, dumping Sly into the water, but Mazael grabbed her up before the current could carry her away. He was relieved to find she was still alive...but just barely.


2 Sarenith, 4715 - 9 Sarenith, 4715-The Sacrifice

"We're going to take a little detour," Ulf Gormundr said as the caravan company sat gathered around the fire that evening. Sly lay reclined on her bedroll, but she was no worse for wear after the ministrations of Koya and Spivey.
"If we followed the main route," Ulf explained, "we would pass through the trade-town of Unaimo. However, I would prefer that we head west, to a cliff-village I know of called Iqaliat. I am friends with the hearthmistress there, and I would like to get a better idea of the prevailing conditions along the trail from someone I trust before deciding on the best path for us to take."
The others deferred to his expertise, though Skygni grumbled under his breath about stupid two-leggers getting themselves eaten by going off the beaten path.

Ulf said that the trip to Iqaliat would take about a week. Their next three days of travel were largely uneventful, save for an unoccupied hunter's cabin that they came across, which held nothing of any real value. Four days after that, however, they made a grisly find: a large mound of bodies, all human, stacked near the trail like cordwood. They were all naked, and the cause of death appeared to be exposure. Their skin was white to the point of being blue, and ice-rimed. What at first looked to be like a shared wound on each corpse, was instead some sort of symbol carved into their flesh, like a three fingered claw.
"Snow-chickens," Boris observed. "Very dangerous."
"No, it's worse," Zula said. "I have seen that symbol before. It is the mark of Sithhud, a demon lord of blizzards and the frozen dead."

____________________________________________________________

The village of Iqaliat was built into the overhanging cliffs of Alasek Ridge, at the southern edge of the polar plateau known as the High Ice. With the summer melt in full swing, waterfalls by the hundreds poured down the icy cliff face. Most of the village's buildings were two-story affairs, crafted of stone and clay brick, with their outer faces clad in harder rock. Earthen ramps led up to a gatehouse from the tundra, and a tall watchtower stood over it.

Guards atop the watchtower hailed the caravan as it approached, demanding to know their business there.
"I am Ulf Gormundr," the guide called, stepping forward and displaying a talisman made of reptilian scales, "friend to Hearthmistress Sonavut. We request shelter and trade."
The guards conferred among themselves for several minutes, and then called down for the gates to be opened. The caravan wagons rumbled up the ramp, through the gates, and down another ramp on the far side. The villagers comprised over one-hundred individuals, including even a handful of dwarves. They went about their daily routines, but as the caravan came to a halt in the middle of the town, the Varisians were met by icy stares and scowling faces.
"I thought you said these people were your friends," Mazael muttered to Ulf.
"It was so when last I was here," the Ulfen replied. "Something is amiss. We should speak with the hearthmistress."

The companions made their way to the home of Hearthmistress Sonavut, where she stood outside and lifted her hand in greeting.
"Ulf Gormundr," she smiled, "it is good to see you again, though I am afraid you have come at a dark time."
"So I gathered," Ulf replied. "What has happened? I hoped to learn the conditions along the Path of Aganhei before we continued on our trek."
Sonavut looked around, then lowered her voice.
"It would be best if we spoke privately."
She led them into the house, and offered them cups of hot, fermented goat's milk. She joined them, sitting heavily and sighing deeply.
"The Path east, past Unaimo and through the Koumssa Gap, is blocked," she said.
"Blocked?" Ulf asked, puzzled. "By what?"
"The morozkos," she replied. "The hungry storms."
"What are those?" Piotr asked.
"Fierce winter blizzards," Ulf answered. "The Erutaki believe they are malevolent, and possible even...sentient."
He turned back to Sonavut.
"But this is not the time of year for them," he said. "Nor have they ever been seen this far south."
Sonavut nodded. "This is true, but now they have swept down from the High Ice and stopped all travel along the Path of Aganhei. We have also heard tales of strange black pillars, guarded by walking, frozen dead, appearing all across the Crown of the World."
"Did you say frozen dead?" Zula interrupted.
Sonavut nodded again.
"We encountered frozen corpses just this morning," Zula explained, "but they did not walk. They were very much dead, but they were all marked with the symbol of Sithhud."
Sonavut's face went pale, and she made the sign of the evil eye.
"These are dark tidings indeed," she said, "but this is not the cause of the unrest among my people. There is more: after decades of peace, the dragon Vegsundvaag has awakened, and has been terrorizing our village. We have sent hunters to slay her, but none have returned, and many more of our warriors have died defending the town during her attacks."
Boris elbowed Lucian in the ribs, and whispered, "You see? Dragon! Mer-Queen right again!"
"Do you know why these attacks are occurring?" Ulf asked.
Sonavut shook her head.
"No, and neither does our chief, but our shaman, Tunuak, blames it on our supposed lack of faith in the spirits of the wind that have always protected Iqaliat. He has even gone so far as to accuse me of leading the people astray," she said bitterly. "I'm sorry that I have no answers for you. The dragon blocks the way north, and the morozkos block the Path east."
Before anyone could say anything further, however, loud and angry voices could be heard from outside.

____________________________________________________________

When the companions exited the home of the hearthmistress, they saw that what looked like the entire village had gathered outside, surrounding the caravan wagons with the drivers and cooks, shouting angrily. In the midst of the crowd stood an aged man, still hearty, but leaning on a twisted staff, and wrapped in a heavy gray cloak decorated with Erutaki tribal designs. His brown eyes were yellowed with age, as were his few remaining teeth, and his balding head was a patchwork of short, wiry white hairs around his temples and the back of his scalp. Tribal tattoos decorated his liver-spotted pate and face, wrinkled and worn by wind and sun. He carried himself with an air of importance, expecting to be heard.

"Tunuak!" Sonavut hissed quietly.
"There they are!" the old man shouted, pointing one bony finger at the Scions. "Their intrusion here will only inflame the dragon's anger! You have all turned away from the spirits of the wind and invited outsiders into our midst, and the spirits will repay such faithlessness by sending the dragon against us once again! Now, even the traditional sacrifices to appease the wind spirits will not suffice! The outsiders' taint can be removed only by sacrificing one of them, and then the rest must leave here at once!"
The crowd roared in angry agreement, and surged closer towards the companions.
"Do not listen to this nonsense!" Sonavut shouted back. "Ulf Gormundr has come to us as a friend many times, and these people that he journeys with have brought no ill with them!"
She looked around the mob for the village chieftain, Nalvanaq, and saw him standing off to one side, arms crossed over his chest in silent judgement.
"Do they not?" Tunuak raised his voice again. "Look, standing with them before your eyes is a goblin! A devourer of children, and our scouts reported seeing an ice warg traveling with them on the road! They associate with minions of evil! How can they not be harboring ill in their hearts?"
The crowd erupted again, nodding their heads vehemently, and this time, it was Piotr who stepped forward to speak.
"It is true that we count a goblin among our friends," the sorcerer said, "but he was taken as an infant, when he was orphaned by his tribe. He has been raised among good people all of his life, and his actions speak for his noble spirit."
Boris sniffed, and wiped a tear from his eye.
"As for the wolf," Piotr continued, "we rescued him from a vile ogre mage, and in exchange, he has offered to help guide us along our path."
The crowd murmured and grumbled, many of them shaking their heads in disbelief.
"Boris not think you very convincing," the goblin muttered, "but he like your words and make you special meal tonight if you not sacrificed to wind gods."
"More lies!" Tunuak shouted, turning back to the crowd. "While it may not be these particular individuals who have angered the spirits, our leniency in allowing foreigners to continuously travel across our lands and sacred places have brought on their vengeance! The dragon is the instrument of their displeasure! I implore you, my people, let us make this sacrifice, and return to us the good will of the gods!"
"No, let us prove ourselves to you!" Piotr called back. "Let us go our way, and we will seek out this dragon for you! We will either convince it to cease its attacks, or we will slay it and returns its head to you!"
The crowds' rumblings became uncertain, and many whispered among themselves, some nodding in agreement. Tunuak could sense the mood shifting.
"Of course they are willing to go to the dragon!" he shouted shrilly, "For they are in league with it! The will return here with it and destroy you all! You will perish in ice and frost, fodder for the wolves who will feast upon your bones!"
This time it was Zula who responded. The Shoanti woman stepped forward and projected her voice, not enough to cause harm, but with just the right amount of force to cause those listening to wince and cover their ears.
"Now listen to me!" she boomed. "We are here in peace, and we will leave the same way! We will deal with this dragon, for it stands in our way, but make no mistake: if any of you try to do us harm, it will be at your own peril! You will wish for the tender mercies of a dragon by the time we are finished with you!"

Silence fell over the crowd, with nervous glances passing among the villagers. Finally, the chieftain stepped forward.
"We have heard your words, and those of our shaman," he said, his voice carrying. "Here is my decision: you may stay here for one night, but tomorrow you must leave. Go to the dragon or don't, but do not return this way again."
He turned, and walked back into the crowd, which parted before him. Zula looked around, but Tunuak was nowhere to be seen. There was something not right about the old shaman, other than just religious zealotry. It seemed to her that there was something more to his actions than a simple desire to protect his village from a dragon.
"I would like to speak to the shaman," she said, turning to Sonavut. "My hear tells me that there is a falseness to him that I cannot explain."
The hearthmistress nodded. "I can take you to his tower," she said. "Follow me."

They crossed the center of the village to a squat, three-story stone tower. Sonavut knocked on the door, and it was opened a moment later, but not by Tunuak. Instead, a younger man stood there, his eyes wide and blinking at the strange group assembled outside.
"Hearthmistress?" he asked, perplexed. "What is going on?"
"We are looking for your master, Gluktok," Sonavut replied calmly. "We need to speak with him."
"He...he is not here," Gluktok stammered. "He did not return after the assembly."
"Is that what they call a lynch mob around here?" Mazael growled.
"Do you know where he may have gone?" Sonavut asked, ignoring the war-priest.
"He has been spending much time among the wind altars lately," the apprentice replied, "but the last time I went there looking for him, I could not find him, though I am certain I saw him enter the tunnel to the cliff top."
"Wind altars?" Zula asked.
"The shrines to the wind spirits," Sonavut explained, "atop the cliff above the village. There is a cleft in the cliff wall that leads up to it. I can show you where it is, but then I feel that I must speak to Chief Nalvanaq. I implore you to tread lightly when you find Tunuak. He is a good man...just misguided, I feel."

______________________________________________________________

The passage Sonavut led them to was little more than a crack in the cliff wall at the back of the village. The companions passed through it, single-file, and followed the narrow, twisting course steadily upwards. Zula found a set of booted footprints that were easy to follow, but midway up they abruptly vanished. She halted the others with a raised hand, and then bent low to the ground. She straightened a moment later.
"They lead to that wall," she pointed.
"Allow Boris, loud lady," Boris pushed forward and peered closely at the bare rock.
"I see a small crack there," Haroldo indicated.
Boris gave him a look of disdain.
"You not teach grandmother how to suck eggs," he scoffed. "You see crack, but Boris," he reached out a finger and traced a large rectangular outline, "find whole door. And," he bent over and fiddled with something on the floor, "trapdoor that you standing on. Boris fix, so now you not fall and die. No need to thank Boris. After you."
He pushed another spot on the wall, and the entire section pivoted inwards, revealing another passage beyond.

They lined up again and followed the new, but still just as narrow, tunnel as it sloped up to the west and south. After perhaps a hundred feet or so, it rounded a corner and ended in a blank wall. Standing before the wall, gazing up at it, was an Erutaki hunter clad in leathers. He turned to look over his shoulder as the group approached.
"I saw you in the village," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"We could ask you the same," Zula replied. "Did you see Tunuak come this way?"
"I am Naquun," the man said. "I was following the shaman to make sure he was safe, but then I saw him go through a hidden door that I had never seen before. I ducked through after him, but when I got here, he was simply gone again."
Zula's eyes narrowed.
"You followed him through the hidden door," she said, "but how did you bypass the pit trap?"
Naquun's face turned stony, and one hand inched towards his belt where a pair of hand-axes hung.
"I am sensing a powerful evil presence," Helgavarl abruptly announced from Mazael's brow.
That was enough for Boris. The goblin dove between the hunter's legs and rolled to his feet behind the man before driving a blade through his back. The impact shook his arm so badly that he almost dropped his sword. It was if he had stabbed a stone wall. Worse, instead of bleeding profusely, the wound rapidly began to close. A twang sounded from further down the hall and one of Lucian's arrows appeared in Naquun's shoulder, where it quivered for a moment, and then fell to the ground.
"Looks like we got our work cut out for us," Mazael snarled, stepping forward as Suishen ignited. He struck with all his might, and to his relief, Naquun grunted and gave ground. A moment later, however, both hand-axes appeared in the hunter's hands and he leaped at Mazael, his weapons moving too fast for the war-priest to block. They carved deep gouges in his flesh, and it was his turn to fall back. Two more arrows sprouted from Naquun's chest, and Boris struck twice more from behind. The hunter staggered, but did not fall...at least not until Mazael gathered himself and struck again, burying Suishen in his chest. As he collapsed to the floor, the Erutaki warrior almost seemed to deflate. A black mist curled from his open mouth and snaked across the floor, where it coalesced into a tiny, dark-skinned creature with bat-like wings and curved horns protruding from its forehead. Mazael didn't hesitate. He swung Suishen again, and splattered the little demon across the wall.

"What in the Hells was that?" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
"A demon," Zula replied. "A quasit."
"It was...possessing him," Lucian said in disbelief. "We killed an innocent man!"
"Then we need to take care when we find Tunuak," Piotr said. "We couldn't know this man was possessed, and the same may be true of the shaman. If he resists us or attacks, we should try and take him alive if possible."

_________________________________________________________

Boris easily found the second hidden door in the tunnel wall, which was blessedly untrapped. It granted ingress into a wide, irregular pit in the upper cliffs, open to the sky above through a crack in the ice, with a ramp circling its way down to a slushy basin sixty-feet below. The path appeared to be quite narrow, and slick with ice, with numerous small niches in the wall adjacent along its course.

Mazael was the first to step through, his eyes scanning for any sign of the shaman. What he saw out of the corner of his gaze were several shadowy forms that quickly darted out of sight into the niches. They looked like humans at first glance, though gaunt and emaciated. When his eyes adjusted to the gloom, however, he saw from their sunken eyes, blue skin, and frost-covered flesh that they were no longer among the living.
"Company," he warned the others.
"Boris see them," the goblin replied, and then he was off.
Boris scrambled along the ledge, moving nimbly despite the slippery conditions. He reached the first of the frozen dead just as it emerged from its hidey hole, and stabbed one of his twin blades through its belly. It didn't make a sound, and the wound looked like a hole in a block of ice. Boris gulped and took a hasty step back. It pointed one boney finger at him, and a blast of frigid air erupted around him. Boris braced himself, but the blast just felt like a gentle breeze. He reminded himself to thank Mazael for asking Suishen to grant him protection from frigid conditions. A moment later, he owed the war-priest another debt of gratitude when Mazael charged past him, skating on air and impaling the undead with Suishen's fiery blade. The creature erupted in flames and screamed as it melted away into water and bones.

Just then, something very strange occurred: appearing out of thin air, a translucent, demonic-looking figure reached out towards Mazael and ripped across his face with claws that felt as sharp as steel. The war-priest cursed and slashed with Suishen. His jaw dropped when the sword passed completely and harmlessly through the demon. He cursed again and moved away from the creature, walking on air towards the middle of the pit. The demon raked its claws across his back as he fled.
"A little help here!" he cried.

Across the chasm, another of the frozen dead stepped out of a cleft and hurled a cone of frost towards the heroes still outside in the passage. Zula and Sly took the brunt of the blast, while Lucian and Piotr were unscathed due to Suishen's protection. The sword had consented to share this power with all of the Scions, but this did not extend to Sly and Zula, who were still relative newcomers. Lucian loosed an arrow towards the undead creature, and took it through the throat, and it toppled over the edge of the pit. Sly launched herself into the air, her supernatural hexes simultaneously giving her the power of flight and invisibility. Though her skin was blistered from the cold, the undead were the least of her worries. The shaman was around somewhere, and he was the greater threat. She dove towards the bottom of the pit, and that was when she heard the chanting coming from down below.

At that moment, a dark, cloying miasmic cloud exploded around the companions. Where it touched them, it froze like liquid fire, and with Zula, it even made her physically ill. Only Sly and Haroldo were beyond the edge of its spread, and it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"There you are!" Sly shouted, having pinpointed where the chanting had come from.
She began her own spell and loosed a crackling bolt of electricity towards the bottom of the pit. She was rewarded by a cry of pain from that area, and the smell of burning hair.

Piotr had deduced that the shaman must be hiding invisibly somewhere in the pit, just as Sly had. He passed a hand over his eyes, and murmured a spell. When he opened his eyes again, his vision sharpened, and he could clearly see Tunuak rising into the air from the bottom of the pit, smoke trailing from his fur cloak.
"He's flying!" the sorcerer called out. "He's on his way towards us!"

Mazael ignored this. He had his own problems. The demon had followed him, and opened up another gash across his chest. Suishen could not help him, and he wasn't going to be able to keep absorbing blow after blow. He searched his mind, desperate to find a solution, and he seized upon an idea. Maybe this wasn't a physical foe after all. Maybe the shaman had conjured up something. He grasped his holy symbol, and spoke the words to a dispelling prayer. A wide smile spread across his face when the creature simply popped out existence.

Zula, waves of nausea still roiling through her belly, heard Piotr's warning, and cocked he head, listening. Then she heard it: chanting coming from somewhere above. Fortunately, her thundercall was not a precision weapon. She opened her mouth and the air exploded with a booming report, completely drowning out whatever new spell Tunuak was planning to throw. A moment later, the air above the pit erupted with a burst of glittering dust, and then everyone could see the shaman hovering there.
"Very well!" Tunuak called. "Now you will all be able to see your doom coming!"
His hands wove together as he gathered another spell, and this time Zula could not stop it. A column of fire blasted down, enveloping the thundercaller, and catching Mazael as well.

Down on the ramp, Boris spotted another of the frozen dead maneuvering itself behind Haroldo. He leaped towards it, skidding between its legs and slashing at its thighs as he passed. Haroldo turned and saw the creature bearing down on him, then swung his great sword and took its head off its shoulders. He and the goblin then continued slip-sliding down the ramp to where yet another frozen corpse was emerging from the wall, and quickly put an end to it as well.

Piotr decided to fight fire with fire, and he detonated a ball of flame right on top of Tunuak. Unfortunately, the shaman had protected himself for just such an eventuality, and the flames left him unscathed, but Sly, who was still flying about invisibly, was caught in the blast and thrown into the wall of the pit, her skin blistering and her clothes smoldering. As she struggled to recover, Lucian loosed a pair of arrows at Tunuak, but he chose blunt-tipped shafts, remembering what Piotr had said about the possibility of possession. Tunuak grunted, and doubled over as the arrows struck his belly, but as he straightened, another spell was on his lips, this time conjuring a spinning vortex of violent wind about him, throwing all of his enemies away from him. Sly was beyond its effect, however, due to the force of the fireball. She summoned her magic and threw a slumbering hex towards the shaman. To her vast relief, Tunuak went limp as sleep overcame him, and then he dropped from the sky and plummeted towards the bottom of the pit. His winds cushioned the fall, but the force of it was still enough to jolt him back awake.

Before the shaman could recover, Lucian focused his divine power on the magical windstorm and, somewhat to his surprise, managed to dispel the vortex. Then both Piotr and Haroldo sent volleys of magic missiles towards Tunuak, throwing him further off balance. The shaman gathered himself and leaped into the air once more, struggling to gain altitude. Before he could reach the top, however, Sly sent a bolt of black fire at him, sapping his power as it drained his life force, and then Piotr rapidly followed up with a spell that sent an ear-piercing screech echoing through the pit, causing Tunuak to reel and seize his head in agony. Finally, Zula unleashed her thundercall once more. Tunuak went limp again, falling from the air yet again. This time when he hit the ground, however, he did not rise again.

__________________________________________________________

No demon rose from Tunuak's body after his death, assuaging Zula's guilt at having possibly killed another innocent. The slushy basin at the bottom of the pit where the shaman had fallen was filled with hundreds of bones, all marked with the three-fingered claw rune of Sitthud. On one side of the pit, dozens of skulls had been piled into a crude altar. A number of white shards, similar to ceramic, where stacked before it. Painted along the icy walls of the shaft were Erutaki pictograms, and scattered among many of these were more of the strange runes. One of the drawings showed strange black standing stones rising from icy hills, while another displayed a cluster of towers glowing with a strange blue light. A third one showed a single monolithic tower rising above what seemed to be a black lake with white mountain peaks behind it, and a fourth displayed a spiraling storm with long arms ending in ice-fanged jaws devouring Erutaki villages, but with longer jaw-arms reaching towards forests, crudely drawn castles and cities, and what might have been ships at sea. Warriors were shown trying to fight the storm with spears before being engulfed and sealed in tombs of ice. The final pictogram showed a blue-skinned woman with dark wings and hair, wearing a silver-crown or circlet. Her hand grasped one of the claw-sigils like a scepter, and spiraling streaks of silver and white curled from it in every direction.

"These shards," Zula said picking up one of them from in front of the altar, "unless I miss my guess they are...egg shells."
No!" Sonavut said. "It cannot be!"
The companions had brought the hearthmistress as well as the chieftain to Tunuak's bore after the battle.
"Those are from dragon eggs!" she cried.
"These," Chief Nalvanaq gazed at the pictogram of the black pillars, "our hunters have reported seeing these scattered around the High Ice. And these," he gestured at the blue-limned tower picture, "are the Nameless Spires. They are an ancient ruined city located at the North Pole. The mountains behind them are the Alabastrine Peaks. These are the morozkos," he indicated the long-armed storm. "Wait, what is this?" He leaned in more closely, peering at the drawing of the blue-skinned woman. "There is writing here. It speaks of love for someone named Katiyana 'who speaks to me on the winds from her tower in the Storms.'"
"The Nameless Spires," Sonavut said. "Our people believe the wind spirits reside there. It is a dangerous place, but also a source of great visions for those brave enough to seek it. Tunuak himself undertook a vision quest there within the past year."
"Where he apparently met this Katiyana," Zula said, "and then somehow decided that stealing dragon eggs and sacrificing them to a demon lord would be a good idea."


This journal continues to be just awesome. Looking forward to what you might encounter in the icy wastes around the North Pole!


They just began that journey last night! It's going to be kind of awesome!


8 Sarenith, 4715 - 5 Erastus, 4715 -The High Ice

"I've had enough," Sly said.
The companions were gathered in Sonavut's home, discussing their next move, when the witch had abruptly stood up and made her announcement.
"This isn't what I signed up for, and no amount of money is worth this. I've almost died at least three times now, and we aren't even halfway to where we're going yet! I want out!"
The others looked at her, silently judging. It was Sandru who finally spoke.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," the caravan master said calmly. "You have been an asset to our cause, but we all have our limits. We would not keep you here against your will."
Sly nodded firmly.
"I understand Piotr is going to be making a trip back to Kalsgaard," she said.
The sorcerer looked dubious, but nodded his head.
"Yes," he replied. "I have purchased a pair of teleportation scrolls, and I'm going to sell off some goods that we've accumulated, and do a little shopping as well."
"Good," Sly said. "Then I'll go with you, you can pay me my cut, and we'll go our separate ways."
"Boris going too," the goblin chimed in. "Have some personal business to handle."
"I guess that's settled then," Zula said. "We will wait for your return, and then I suppose we have a dragon to deal with."

_________________________________________

Piotr and Boris returned from their trip the following afternoon. Boris had not been at all forthcoming with the sorcerer about the nature of his business in the Ulfen city, and had promptly vanished as soon as they arrived in Kalsgaard, only to reappear at exactly the predetermined time and place to return with Piotr to Iqaliat. Despite Piotr's suspicions, however, the goblin's mission was anything but nefarious. He had sought out an armorer and fetched a good price for the fine breastplate that Arnaalak had given him, and then gone to the orphanage he'd visited previously. He'd left the gold the breastplate had fetched at the back door with a simple note instructing that it be spent to buy the children toys and sweets.

The following day, the Scions prepared to depart Iqaliat in search of the lair of the dragon Vegsundvaag. Sandru had decided that the caravan would remain in town for safety, and he, Ameiko, Shalelu, Koya, Spivey and Ulf would stay with it. Ulf had no knowledge of where to find the dragon, and didn't think he would be of much use. Just before the companions were about to leave, however, Chief Nalvanaq approached them, a tall, heavily muscled Mwangi man trailing him. The big man, dressed as he was in only a loin cloth, and carrying a long pole-arm, looked as out of place among the Erutaki as Boris did among the humans.
"This is Mongo," Nalavanaq said by way of introduction. "He knows the terrain between here and Vegsundvaag's domain. He will guide you."
The Chief didn't wait for a response. He simply turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the companions staring at their strange new guide.

________________________________________

It took four days of travel on foot across the barren expanse of the High Ice to reach the glacial rift where Mongo indicated the dragon laired. Along the way, the big Mwangi man told his new companions of how he had come to be so far from home.

Deep within the darkest Mwangi jungles, a small tribe known as the Toot-Tutes (which in common translated into Great Warriors) hunted with great success for many generations. When Mongo came of age, he became bored with hunting pumas and giant snakes. He left his tribe in hopes of learning to become the greatest warrior in the world. Aboard his tiny dugout canoe, Mongo traveled to the Sodden Lands where he hired on as a city guard. There he served for several years , learning to use a guisarme and becoming a skilled guard. However, he soon grew tired of city life and yearned for more advanced knowledge of fighting styles. Thus, Mongo boarded a ship bound for Varisia. There he met the love of his life, a woman named Tootsie. Tootsie slept with Mongo every night and it only cost five copper pieces! Among other things, Tootsie was a monk and taught Mongo how to fight with only his hands and feet. They were pledged to be married. However, only months before their wedding at the Temple of Gorum, Tootsie died of mummy rot and Mongo was left broken hearted. Filled with despair and self loathing, Mongo travelled to the Land of the Mammoth Lords. There he made a name for himself as a gladiator at Tankin’s Gamehouse and Hobgoblin Brothel. Mongo won many, many matches and eventually attracted the attention of a merchant know as Morcash. Morcash lured Mongo out of the fighting pits and encouraged him to join him on a venture to other side of the world. Mongo agreed in hopes of traveling to meet the Tian people and learning their fighting styles. However, not long into their journey, Morcash’s caravan was ambushed by a tribe of terrible cannibals. Everyone but Mongo was captured. Luckily, Mongo made his way to the village of Iqaliat where he had remained stranded and seeking revenge.

"An...interesting tale," Zula said once the loquacious warrior had finished his story. "We are bound for Tian Xia once our business here is concluded. If we survive this, perhaps you could journey with us."
"I would like that," Mongo nodded. "Not enough trees here."

The rift that Mongo had led them to was about twenty feet wide, but over one-hundred feet in length. The companions approached cautiously and peered over the edge. It looked as if it widened after thirty feet or so, but then it extended away into darkness, beyond even the sharp eyes of Boris.
"Boris go down," the goblin volunteered. "He more sneaky than big people, but Boris need talking fire sword to make him walk on air like Mazael."
"Easy enough," the war-priest agreed.
"And...," Boris continued, "Boris need Piotr to make him invisible too. Boris sneaky, but it never hurt to be careful."
Piotr couldn't argue the logic, especially where dragons were concerned. So, once the goblin had been rendered invisible and lighter than air, he dropped over the edge of the crevasse and began making his way down. After descending some sixty feet, he saw a cave opening on one side of the rift, but he also noticed something on the opposite side: the ice there looked thinner in one spot, and he thought that if he hit it hard enough, it might break. He thought better of it, not wanting to make any more noise than necessary. He continued down. After another forty feet, he found two more openings on opposite sides, but one of them was much larger...dragon-sized. He entered quietly and found himself in a long cavern. It extended back well over a hundred feet, but was bisected by a small chasm halfway across. At the far end, crouched in the shadows, was a white-scaled dragon, roughly the size of a large warhorse. Boris had seen enough. He retreated as silently as he had entered, and made his way back to the top of the ravine.

Once Boris had reported that the dragon was indeed home, there seemed to be nothing for it but to go back down and see what happened.
"I would like to at least try and speak with her," Piotr declared. "Maybe if we can explain the circumstances of her eggs being destroyed, we can placate her."
"Hmph," Mazael snorted. "If a dragon showed up and killed my kids, and then another dragon came along and said, 'Sorry about that. That other dragon was bad and I took care of her. No hard feelings,' I would be having dragon stew for weeks!"
"It's worth a try," Zula said, "but don't get your hopes up."

Mazael asked Suishen to grant Haroldo the power to air walk along with himself and Boris. Then, the war-priest allowed Lucian to ride piggy back, while Haroldo carried Piotr. Zula tied off a rope at the top of the ravine and threw the other end into the abyss. Then, at her mark, she and Mongo leaped off the edge, each one holding on to the rope with one hand. As they began to fall, the thundercaller uttered a spell, and the two of them began to drift slowly down, as light as feathers. Using the rope to guide them, they landed softly on the ledge of the large cave mouth, just as the others joined them.

In formation, they companions entered the large ice cave, and at the sight of them, Vegsundvaag reared up in anger. Her scales glittered like polished ice edged with silver, but her face was marred with claw marks, and the horned frill surmounting her head was tattered and scarred.
"More warm bloods!" she screeched. "Come to steal more from me!?"
"Mighty Vegsundvaag!" Piotr called out, his hands held up placatingly. "We have come here seeking a peaceful resolution. We know that you have been victimized, but we found the individual responsible. He was a worshipper of a foul demon, and he thought to sow discord between the Erutaki and yourself with his actions. His plans have been foiled, and he is now dead at our hands."
The dragon's wings beat furiously as she rose into the air.
"I am well aware of what happened to my eggs!" she roared. "I found the evidence! A hammer lay amidst the ruins of my clutch, as well as a talisman marked with the filthy scrawlings of Iqaliat! On that day I swore vengeance on humans, and I vowed to devour every hot-blooded ape in that village until my wrath is sated! Now, you will be my next meal!"
"So much for peaceful negotiations," Maazel sighed as he drew Suishen. "Time to move to more aggressive tactics!"

Piotr had hoped that his efforts would bear fruit, but he was no fool. As the dragon launched herself towards him, he hurled a fireball into her path. She bellowed in agony as the flames washed over her, melting gaping holes through her scaled hide. Yet she did not falter, and as she rushed forward, Piotr felt his hear quail at her fury. Next to him, he saw Mongo's face grow pale as well. She back-winged above them and opened her jaws wide to spew forth a storm of frost and ice-shards that enveloped most of the companions. Fortunately, Suishen had shielded each of the scions with his protective magics from extreme cold, and the frigid breath caused no harm. Zula, however, did not share in that status, and she took the brunt of the blast, her skin turning bluish white where the ice clung to her. Mongo managed to leap aside at the last instant, else he would have fared no better.

Haroldo charged into the air, his great-sword held above his head. Vegsundvaag snapped at him as he came, but the blood-rager dodged aside, and then plunged his blade into her chest. A moment later, Mazael joined him in the air, flanking on the dragon's opposite side. She whipped her from this way and that at the warriors, but then another fireball from Piotr exploded in the air above her, driving her to the ground. As she fell, Haroldo and Mazael struck at her viciously, opening terrible wounds in her flesh. She landed heavily...right next to Piotr! Her jaws gaped above the sorcerer, but then two arrows sprouted from the roof of her mouth as Lucian's bow sang. She clawed at them, breaking them off just as Haroldo descended on her from above. She bit at him, sinking her teeth into his thigh. Unfortunately for her, it was not his sword arm. He brought his blade down with furious strength, cleaving almost completely through the dragon's neck. She collapsed heavily, her pale blood flooding out of her.

__________________________________________

The heroes searched the remainder of Vegsundvaag's lair, and found her nesting place, which was littered with broken eggshells. A stone hammer lay amidst the debris, as did a talisman which was the twin to the one that Ulf Gormundr carried. In another cave they found the dragon's horde...an astounding bounty of coins, gems, art objects and other wondrous items. They collected the trove, and then decided to investigate the bottom of the ravine before they departed. There they were surprised to find the remains of another dragon lying among the jagged rock spires. It had been reduced by scavengers to little more than shattered bones, but the wound patterns suggested that it had been mauled by a large predator...perhaps another dragon.

The companions took their leave of the dragon's lair, bringing Vegsundvaag's head with them as proof of their victory. When they reached Iqaliat four days later, the Erutaki hailed them as mighty heroes, and held a great feast of caribou, goat, and fish in their honor. They were invited to stay for as long as they wished, and the villagers repaired all of their wagons and equipped them with cold weather gear. Sonavut also gifted them with a sashimono of comfort, a magical banner that would provide warmth to those gathered around it, as well as two wands that would also help the travelers to endure the harsh elements that they were sure to face.

During the feast, Chief Nalvanaq and Sonavut took the Scions aside, and informed them that they had studied the pictograms in Tunuak's bore, and believed they had discovered more of the shaman's plans. Ancient tales told that the morozkos were the roaring scourge wielded by the demon lord Sithhud, who ate the flesh of the dead and bound their bones to serve him in ages past. The three-fingered skeletal claw was Sithhud's mark, and the pictograms suggested that the dark-winged woman may have found some way to reclaim the demon lord's ancient power, perhaps using the strange black monoliths or other forgotten magics discovered in the Nameless Spires. The elders believed that the third pictogram showed a place that the Erutaki called the Storm Tower. So named because of the storms that always seemed to swirl above its pinnacle, that spire was similar to those found in the Nameless Spires, but it stood alone near the Alabastrine Peaks. The morozkos had already been awakened, but if the woman gained full control over the hungry storms, none would be able to stand before them, and the Scions and their caravan would never make it across the Crown of the World. If they hoped to make the crossing, they would have to journey to the Storm Tower and deal with her before her designs were complete.

____________________________________________

'I see you, Scion of House Amatatsu,' the voice spoke into Zula's head.
"What?" she asked, looking around.
"It's the sword," Ameiko said, smiling as she approached, "Suishen. It has informed me that you have become a Scion of my family's House."
"What?" Zula repeated. "How?"
Ameiko shrugged. "Maybe by repeatedly risking your life for the sake of this caravan and my quest. You have no vested interest in seeing this through, yet you have remained with us and gone out of your way to defend us."
Zula was at a loss for words.
"I...I am honored," she said, bowing her head. "I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to see you restored to your throne. In turn, I only ask that you might allow me to impart to you the wisdom of my experience, to use as you will."
Ameiko smiled again.
"I think I'm going to need all the advice I can get."

______________________________________________

"So we have agreement, yes?" Boris asked.
The Erutaki warrior eyed the goblin suspiciously but nodded, weighing the sack of coins in his palm.
"Just so we on same page," Boris said, "why don't you tell Boris plan again?"
The man sighed.
"I will journey to Lake Nallishoot and watch over it for one year. I will make sure that no harm comes to any of its...inhabitants."
"Exactly!" Boris said. "Now you get going, and if you meet Mer-Queen, you tell her Boris sent you, and not to eat you."
The man gulped, but then looked at the heavy bag of gold again and nodded.

_____________________________________________

Ulf informed the rest of the company that, by his estimate, the journey from Iqaliat to the Storm Tower would be about 700 miles across the High Ice and into the Boreal Expanse. Though he had never been that close to the pole before, the guide had heard stories and seen enough maps that, using the mountains as a landmark, he was confident in his ability to bring the caravan there, and afterwards guide it beyond the far end of the Alabastrine Peaks to rejoin the Path of Aganhei at Dead Man's Dome.

Traveling across the High Ice proved more difficult than the tundra, both because the terrain was more rugged, and because it was more desolate and thus harder to navigate. The environment also became more extreme the further north they ventured. One hundred miles north of Iqaliat, the elevation passed 5000 feet, and in the thin air the companions and their horses became easily fatigued. Furthermore, the temperatures atop the High Ice dropped precipitously from the relatively balmy 40 degrees of the tundra, to ranges between 0 degrees and negative 20! The cold weather gear the caravan was outfitted with helped, as did the sashimono of comfort and the wands of endure elements Sonavut had given them. Still, the going was rigorous.

Two weeks out from Iqaliat, the caravan was well in the Boreal Expanse and, being Summer, the sun remained fully risen and shed its light all day and night, appearing to move in a circular pattern in the sky rather than rising and setting. At some point, the companions began to see a bluish glow at the northern horizon that intensified as they drew closer. Finally, as they crested a rise, they saw a massive black tower some ten miles in the distance. The strange blue light emanated from its apex. Just then, Skygni came up the ridge from the opposite side. The warg had been scouting some distance ahead, as was his wont.
"I don't think you're going to be able to get the wagons much closer," he growled.
"What did you find?" Sandru asked.
"Corpses," the wolf said, "lots of them. Walking around. Couple of hundred I'd guess, but I don't count so well."
The caravan master cursed.
"We'll never get past them," he said.
"No, I suspect not," Zula replied pensively, "but perhaps a smaller group could. The caravan can stay here under close guard, while we Scions go in for a closer look."
Sandru looked to Ameiko, who nodded her agreement.
"We will stay here until we hear from you that the path is safe," she said.

___________________________________________

The Scions, plus Mongo, left the caravan behind and began crossing the wasteland towards the black tower in the distance.
"This never going to work," Boris complained. "Boris is sneaky. Big-voice lady sneaky, but all rest of you sound like pots and pans in Boris's kitchen when he washing after big meal! We going to get caught! You wait and see!"
Less than an hour later, the goblin's prediction came true.

From out of the blowing snow and mist came staggering a dozen of the frozen dead. Boris spotted them first, and he called out a warning to his companions, putting an arrow through the neck of one as he did so. Lucian followed up with a second shaft through the thing's forehead, and it collapsed. The others simply walked over it as they continued to shamble forward. Haroldo rushed forward to meet them, hacking as he went. He quickly found himself surrounded, however, and their frigid claws began to tear at him. More of them moved past him and reached Boris. The goblin tried to backpedal away, but the creatures grabbed at him and ripped deep gouges in his flesh. Mongo ran to the goblin's aid, his polearm pulling the legs from beneath one of the undead, which he then impaled to the ground with the axe-like blade of his weapon. Zula's voice cracked through the cacophony of the storm, throwing a quartet of the corpses back. Mazael was among them in an instant, chopping them down like saplings. Boris managed to fight his way free through the opening Mongo had provided him, slashing one of his swords across the throat of an assailant as he passed. Lucian's bow continued to thrum, bringing down another corpse, and Haroldo's blood rage filled him as he hewed about him, felling another three. Then, a rolling sphere of fire came bowling through the undead as Piotr summoned his magic, setting one of them alight like a pyre. A few moments later, the last of them fell as Mazael and Boris struck together, and Lucian found his marks with the precision of Old Deadeye himself.

________________________________________________________

It took several more hours of slogging through the snow before the companions reached the Storm Tower. It was even more impressive up close. The hexagonal spire of black basalt loomed hundreds of feet into the air, mired in a lake of black slush, with a shattered causeway leading across towards a gaping opening in the wall at its base. A huge, crackling ball of blue light floated just above the tower's roof, while a raging white storm turned in an expanding spiral overhead.

"We going...in there?" Boris panted, fatigued from the trek through the thin air.
"Looks that way," Mazael said.
Boris nodded. "Ok, but don't expect Boris to save you this time. Boris knows he is irresistible to women, but only so much of him to go around."


5 Erastus, 4715 - The Storm Tower

"Are you sure about this, Boris?" Zula asked. "You don't need to be taking unnecessary risks."
The goblin waved her off.
"This what Boris do. He very sneaky. He sneak over bridge and inside tower. Then, he come back and tell you if safe. No problem!"
The thunder-caller looked dubious, but she had to admit that the plan made sense. The companions were standing on the shore of the lake of black slush that surrounded the immense tower, and the wind whipped around them with gale force. The snow storm was blinding, limiting their visibility.
"Ok," she nodded, "but we need to keep you in sight, so we're going to follow along behind at distance."
Boris shrugged.
"Just be quiet!" he shouted over the howling wind. "Boris not want to get killed because you clanky-clanking everywhere!"

The little goblin turned and began hopping nimbly across the broken, crumbling causeway that led from the lakeshore to the base of the tower. When he was about halfway across, Zula motioned for the others to follow. The distances between the fractured pieces of the bridge were not large, but the blowing wind and icy conditions made the crossing hazardous nonetheless. By the time the rest of the Scions reached the halfway point, Boris had already reached the large, hexagonal opening in the tower's wall. He stepped cautiously inside, and immediately felt an oppressive sense of unease, but at least the wind wasn't blowing in the entry hall. Windblown snow had drifted into the corners and along the walls of the trapezoidal chamber, piling up in deep drifts. Identical hexagonal openings exited the room directly ahead of him, and to his right and left. Strong wind blew from the opening in front of him, and some sort of crystal panel was affixed to the wall beside it. Boris moved in a little further, trying to see what might lay in the adjoining rooms. To his left, he saw a large room with pale white mushrooms growing in profusion along its walls, popping out of more snow drifts. To the right was a similar large chamber, but with a tangle of roots and leaves covering the floor beneath more drifts of windblown snow. Something about the vegetation intrigued the goblin, and he moved in that direction to get a closer look.

Zula cursed when she saw Boris disappear around a corner once he'd entered the tower. She didn't like being exposed out in the open, but she also didn't want them to wander blindly into a potentially dangerous situation. Just as she was preparing to tell the group to keep moving, she caught movement out of the corners of both eyes. The causeway was only five feet above the surface of the dark slush, and from both sides Zula saw a total of three wakes moving towards them, their sources invisible below the surface.
"Incoming!" she shouted in warning to the others
At that moment, three creatures, still over fifty feet way, lifted their heads above the slush, their fanged maws dripping black bile. Each of them in turn spat viscous liquid towards those gathered on the causeway, striking Mazael, Haroldo, Piotr and Zula. They flinched in anticipation of being burned, but all they felt was a mild tingle on their skin.
"Thanks again, friend!" Mazael laughed as he patted Suishen's blade, grateful for the magical protection from extreme cold it had granted them.

Mongo was not the beneficiary of Suishen's gift, and when he saw the cold bile-spitting creatures closing in, the absolute last place he wanted to be was stuck on the narrow causeway between them. He got a running start and leaped across the final gap and through the tower's opening. As he landed in the entry hall, he saw Boris disappearing around a corner in a room to the left, where a large pile of leaves and vines lay. The Mwangi man turned abruptly when he heard footsteps behind him, and was relieved to see that Zula had followed him. She wasn't looking at him, however. Her eyes had gone wide as she looked around the room at the snow drifts, and then into the chamber where Boris stood peering at the vegetation.
"Run!!" she screamed, and then leaped back out of the tower and onto the causeway.
Mongo's brow furrowed at her odd behavior, but before he could process any further, the piles of snow exploded as figures leaped out of them, quickly surrounding him.

Mazael turned towards the splashing sound to his right, just as a four-armed horror, its body armored in bony plates, erupted out the slush and flung itself into him. The war-priest staggered back, lost his footing on the icy causeway, and then tumbled off the edge and into the black ice. At the back of the party, another of the creatures sprang out of the lake and collided with Lucian. The oracle's arms pinwheeled, and he had just managed to regain his footing when a second charda hit him, and forced him over the edge.

The creatures that encircled Mongo looked similar to the frozen dead they'd faced earlier in the day, but more savage and bestial. He held his pole-arm out before him like a shield, but there were too many of them...a half-dozen at least. They began feinting in on all sides, and as the Mwangi turned to fend off one, another would come at his flank. Three times their filthy claws struck and raked at his bare skin, and each time they did, a numbing cold flowed from the wound, and Mongo felt himself growing steadily weaker. Just then, he saw a blur of motion as Boris cartwheeled into the room and between the legs of several of the wights, rolling to his feet with blades in both hands and grinning. Mongo knew that was his chance. He reached into his belt pouch and crushed a dry, brittle leaf within, instantly vanishing from sight.
"Hey!" Boris cried, his jaw dropping. "Why you leave Boris? Now what Boris supposed to do??"

Despite his heavy armor and the viscosity of the slush he swam in, Mazael somehow managed to tread water and still hold on to Suishen. He grabbed the edge of the causeway and heaved himself, dripping, out of the lake. No sooner had he regained his feet, however, than the chard lunged for him again, this time going for his legs and sweeping his feet out from under him. Mazael landed hard on his back, but at least he didn't roll back into the water. He didn't have more time to think or react, for the little beast was upon him, slashing and tearing at him with its multiple appendages.

Lucian wasn't faring much better. He also managed to haul himself back out of the slush, and even got in a solid swing with his cudgel against the charda waiting for him, since his bow was useless in the high winds, but then the creature knocked him flat on his back and began to pummel him relentlessly. Then, a gout of flames burst over the little beast, and it screeched and recoiled, spinning towards its new opponent. Piotr stood behind it, his fingers laced together and still smoking. Lucian took the opportunity to snatch a snapleaf from his belt and crush it. As he faded from view, he leaped to his feet and retreated.

Mongo fled through the chamber with mushroom-covered walls, only stopping when he'd reached the far side. Still invisible, he paused to catch his breath. After a moment, however, he held his breath altogether. He'd heard something...a faint scrape of claws on stone. He wasn't alone in the room. Then he reeled to one side as something heavy hit him, and tooth-shaped punctures opened in his side. Another blow struck him from the opposite side as another bite appeared. As he looked around for his attackers, he saw a faint outline of three creatures that looked like four-legged walking mushrooms with large, fanged maws...just before they disappeared from view again.

Boris backed slowly away as the six wights advanced on him, his swords held before him.
"Boris not afraid of you," he taunted, though in truth, fear was making his hands shake slightly.
Suddenly, two of the creatures in the back literally exploded into pieces as Haroldo leaped into the room, his great-sword cleaving them asunder.
"Boris love you, crazy-man!" the little goblin crowed as he darted forward and jammed his blades through the spine of one of the wights who'd turned to look at Haroldo, dropping it bonelessly to he ground. "He make you special stew tonight!!"

Zula's thunderous voice echoed down the causeway and across the lake, causing the chardas to grab their heads in agony. Mazael swung Suishen while still on the ground, and the flaming sword cut down the creature that stood over him. Leaping to his feet, he drove the katana through the skull of the one that had been menacing Lucian before he'd fled. Then Piotr sent a barrage of magic missiles into the last one, and as it stumbled back, Zula loosed her thundercall again, and the charda crumpled.

Mongo thrust blindly with his pole-arm towards the place where he'd last seen the phantom fungi, and felt it connect solidly with something. Then they were upon him again, biting and buffeting him from all sides. He swung about furiously, but landed no further blows. He felt himself weakening from blood loss.
"Help me!!" he cried

Boris turned towards the sound of Mongo's voice as Haroldo cut down the remaining wights. He saw the big Mwangi man bleeding profusely from multiple wounds, and then abruptly, he fell to the floor, unmoving. The goblin could no sign of who or what had attacked him.
"Hey!" Boris called to his companions. "Jungle-man asleep...maybe dead! Boris think something in there with him, but Boris can't see."
"Leave this to me," Piotr said as he jumped into the room from the causeway.
The sorcerer cast a spell, and a bright flash of light erupted over the fallen form of Mongo, followed by a glittering cascade of gold-flecked dust showering from out of thin air. The dust settled on the forms of three creatures that looked like shambling, four-legged mushrooms.
"Oooohh!" Boris gasped. "Boris could make nice soup with those!"
He leaped into the room, and the walking fungi turned to follow him. One of them managed to nip at him as he darted past, but Haroldo was right behind him and hacked the mushroom to pieces before it could turn on him.

"Behind you!" Zula shouted at Mazael as she entered the tower.
The war-priest turned to look into the room behind him where, when he'd last looked, there had only been a pile of dried leaves and roots. His eyes went wide when he saw the pile of vegetation rear up, revealing a massive white flower beneath it. The bloom suddenly pulsed with blinding white light, and he felt his eyes burning as his vision burned away. Piotr managed to turn his head and shut his own eyes at the last second. When he opened them again, bright spots danced before them, but he could see that the huge plant was sliding towards them, squeezing its bulk through the narrow doorway. Acting mainly on instinct, he hurled a fireball towards it, engulfing it in flames. Zula followed that immediately with her thundercall, sending shivers through the plant, but it recovered quickly and lunged forward, seizing Mazael as its fronds snapped shut around him.
'Do not panic, warrior,' Suishen spoke to him. 'Calm your mind.'
Mazael took a deep breath and focused. If there was one thing Desna despised, it was for her adherents to be hindered from moving in any way. He whispered Her name, asking for Her blessing, and then he simply slipped free of the plant's grip. Though still blind, he allowed Suishen to guide his hand, and swung with all his might as he dropped to the floor. The blade tore through root and stem, sending fluids spewing in all directions. Then, another fireball from Piotr set the moonflower completely ablaze, and it quickly shriveled away to ashes.

Boris darted among the remaining two phantom fungi, stabbing and feinting, diverting their attention from Haroldo. Though he suffered another vicious bite for his efforts, they paid off when the blood-rager slashed first one of them apart, and then the other. Then everyone stood still, catching their breath, waiting for the next threat. None came. The only sound was the howl of the wind coming from outside the tower, and another rush of wind emanating from the central room around which the other chambers circled. Mazael, rubbing at his eyes, his vision slowly returning, hurried quickly over to Mongo. The Mwangi was still breathing, though just barely. Mazael knelt to tend his wounds as the others began to fan out through the rooms searching for more threats. Boris approached the central core of the tower. There were two hexagonal openings on either side of the chamber, and the room had no ceiling. It formed a smooth-walled shaft that rose through the tower's center, and a crackling blue sphere of energy hung in the air high above. Boris peered closely at the crystal panel inset in the wall next to the shaft, and then reached out to touch a few buttons there in a pattern that seemed to make sense to him. To his surprise and delight, a hexagonal platform of blue light formed on the floor of the shaft. After a moment, it rose into the air until it reached a height of about one-hundred feet. It paused there briefly, and then disappeared. Grinning, Boris turned to his companions.
"Boris find way up!" he said. "This going to be fun!"


5 Erastus, 4715 - 6 Erastus, 4715 - Queen of Storms

"I'm not going to be of any further use to you," Piotr announced to his companions. "I've used all of my spells. I need to rest."
"We need to keep going," Zula insisted. "Whomever is controlling the storms surely knows we are here by now. We can't give her the chance to gather her forces against us."
"I don't disagree," Piotr nodded, "I'm just saying that I can't help you, and if I go with you, I'd only be a hindrance. I'll go back to the caravan and report on what we've found."
"Boris go with you," the goblin said matter-of-factly. "If fire-man no have fire, he not make it back to wagons alone. Boris help."
"Well that's just great!" Mazael threw up his hands. "So now we're down two warm bodies! We're not helping our chances here!"
"Then I suppose it's a good thing we arrived when we did," a new voice chimed in from the tower's entryway.
The others looked around, startled, and saw Shalelu standing there, Spivey hovering over her shoulder.
"We came looking for you," Spivey said. "You've been gone an awfully long time. We were getting worried."
"I would say your timing was perfect," Zula smiled. "Come. Let's get moving. I will brief you as we go."

_______________________________________________________

With Boris gone, it was up to Zula to figure out how to operate the lift mechanism. With her magical aptitude, it didn't take long, and the blue plane of force reappeared. The companions stepped on quickly, and it proceeded to rise swiftly up the central shaft of the tower. It stopped after about a hundred feet, and the chamber it had ascended into was significantly warmer than the lower rooms had been. The hexagonal shaft was open to the chamber on three sides, but its other three sides continued up towards the blue sphere above. To the left and right, two hexagonal portals stood in the walls, filled with featureless opaque crystals. An immense centipede-like beast crouched in the center of the room, rows of chitinous plates on its back glowing red-hot, each one emblazoned with the three-fingered claw symbol of Sithhud.

Lucian had an arrow knocked and his bow drawn in the blink of an eye. In less time than that, he'd loosed two shafts into the ice worm. Mazael stepped between the remorhaz and his friends, Suishen blazing before him. He slashed repeatedly at the beast, and it drew back from his fury, hissing in rage. Then it lowered its massive head and slammed it into the war-priest, sending him flying to the back of the platform and into the wall of the shaft behind it, where he slumped to the ground. Bleeding profusely from its wounds, the remorhaz reared up weakly, gathering its strength to strike again, but then Shalelu's bow twanged and an arrow buried itself to the fletchings in the brute's right eye, and it toppled over with a crash.

At that moment, the blue force platform flickered and vanished. Most of the companions had already stepped off of it to get clear of the rampaging ice worm, but Mazael still lay stunned upon it, and Lucian had not yet gotten clear. As they began to fall, Zula sang out a prayer, and both of them abruptly began drifting down, gentle as a feather. They reached the bottom of the shaft unscathed, and Lucian, having watched Zula do it before, manipulated the control panel there to cause the platform to reappear. They rode up once again to join their friends, and this time, quickly vacated the untrustworthy apparatus.

___________________________________________________

The two hexagonal, crystalline doors behind the shaft both bore control panels, even more complex that the one below that had summoned the platform. Yet Zula was able to bypass one of them as easily as if she'd done it a hundred times. The hexagonal portal retracted into the wall in six equal triangular sections, revealing a spacious chamber with a bewildering array of crystals and metallic tracery embedded in the walls. A low humming noise filled the air, and the crystals flashed with incomprehensible colored lights at irregular intervals. Scuttling about the room were eight creatures that looked like dog-sized scorpions carved completely out of gemstones, engaged in inscrutable tasks. They took no notice of the door opening, nor of the intruders staring at them with puzzled expressions.

"Crysmals," Zula said. "They are native to the plane of earth. They are sort of like insects, only existing to reproduce by feeding on crystals."
"Are they aggressive?" Mazael asked cautiously.
"Not generally," Zula shrugged, "but like any animal, they can be territorial."
She gazed about the room, her lips moving silently in prayer.
"There is magic here," she said, and pointed to several spots on the walls. "Three of the crystals. They look to have some value."
"Then we aren't leaving them here," Mazael said matter-of-factly.
He strode purposefully into the room, and the crysmals scurried about his feet, heedless. He reached the first crystal that Zula had indicated, and removed it from its niche. Instantly, all of the crysmals turned towards him, their spiked tales arching over their backs.
"Guess they consider this their territory," he gulped.

Lucian had readied his bow, expecting this exact thing to happen. Humans and their greed, he sighed to himself before snapping off two shots and shattering the nearest crysmal. Shalelu gave him a knowing shake of her head and an eye roll before destroying another with a volley. One of the creatures turned towards them and flicked its tail forward, sending a shard of razor-sharp crystal flying towards them. It struck the wall beside them and sent a shower of broken glass over them, leaving small nicks and cuts behind. Then Zula stepped into the room and opened her mouth. She pitched her voice at a high, ear-piercing frequency, and five more of the crysmals shattered into fragments. Lucian brushed the glass from his hands, and fired two more arrows into the last of the creatures, breaking it into pieces.

________________________________________________

The control panel beside the central shaft on the second level of the tower was much more intricate than the previous one had been, but Zula had no difficulty activating it. This time, however, not only did the blue translucent platform appear, but so did a shimmering dome over the platform. When the companions stepped inside, the temperature was comfortable, and the winds buffeting from above were calm. The platform rose swiftly another one-hundred feet, and came to a stop at the top of the shaft. The twenty-foot hexagonal hole of the shaft lay in the floor of a huge, hexagonal chamber. Four stone platforms jutted from the walls fifty feet above the floor, and above these, a pair of open windows in each wall looked out over the icy landscape outside. Six large crystals were embedded in the walls between the windows, glowing with a blue radiance. High above, a wide hexagonal opening pierced the ceiling. Beyond this, a massive sphere of blue light shed a dazzling radiance. Bolts of crackling electricity joined the crystals in the walls with the ball of energy. A howling gale swept downwards from the sphere, carrying a rumble of distant thunder. No less than a dozen hoarfrost spirits surrounded the central shaft as the companions rose through it, and atop one of the high platforms stood a woman of terrible beauty. She was lithe and graceful with pale, blue skin marked with white whorls. Her lustrous midnight-blue hair drifted about her head like wisps of storm clouds, and wings of blue-black feathers spread from her back. Her silvery fingernails glinted like razors.
"Sithhud welcomes you," she called, "as He welcomes all who sacrifice for His greater glory!"

Haroldo blurred into motion, leaping from the platform, his sword cleaving into two of the nearest of the frozen dead. Mongo was right behind him, and swept the legs from under one of the undead with his pole-arm, sending it tumbling to the floor where he then impaled it with the point of his glaive. Behind them, Spivey rose into the air and out of the protective dome. The gale-force winds rushed around her, but did not seem to bother her in the slightest, for the little azata was touched by Desna, and no physical force could restrain her movement. She held her hands above her head, and a dazzling burst of radiance flashed from between them. The holy light seared the other hoarfrost spirit that Haroldo had wounded into ashes. Another one nearby hissed, and threw its hands to its face as its eyes were burned out of its skull. The other undead drew back for a moment, but then quickly gathered themselves together again and, as one, unleashed blasts of frigid air upon all of the heroes. For most of the companions, this was only a minor annoyance as they had Suishen's protection against the cold. This was not true, however, for Mongo, Shalelu or Spivey. While Spivey's angelic heritage afforded her some respite, Mongo and Shalelu staggered out of the blast radius, ice crystalized around their joints.

"Come to me!" Zula shouted to her friends
She didn't wait to see if they obeyed before she cast a spell and conjured a second dome around them, this one opaque from the outside, but translucent from the interior. A moment later, Katiyana, the black-winged woman, wove her own magic, and a dark, greasy miasma exploded over the heroes, both inside and outside of the dome. The cloud cleared instantly, but it left scorched, blackened burns on the flesh of all of the heroes. For Shalelu, the back-to-back assaults were too much. The ranger sank to the floor beyond the relative protection of the dome, unconscious. Lucian cried out in dismay and ran from the dome, heedless of the danger. Haroldo cursed and charged after the oracle, hewing two hoarfrost spirits from behind as they closed on Lucian. Mongo followed and speared one of the undead as it tried to rise. Lucian reached Shalelu and lifted her over his shoulder, then hurried back to the dome.

The remaining hoarfrost spirits realized that, though the dome was opaque, it could not physically bar their way, and they began moving into it. Mazael met the first one through, and though it struck him a glancing blow, his retaliatory strike took its head from its shoulders. Zula looked up through the dome and saw Katiyana high overhead. Gathering her magic again, the Shoanti woman tapped into the power of the storm raging above, and called lightning down from it to strike the fiendish creature. Katiyana stiffened for a moment, and then threw her head back and laughed maniacally.
"Foolish child!" she screamed. "The storms are mine to command!"
She raised her hand above her, and lightning gathered around her fist.
"But the thunder is mine!" Zula shouted back, her voice booming and rocking Katiyana back on her heels, her spell fizzling.

The hoarfrost spirits continued to close in around the companions. Lucian stood protectively over Shalelu as he picked his targets and loosed arrow after arrow. One of the undead went down with two arrows through its neck. Haroldo spun around like a maddened dervish, cutting down another three of the frozen dead. Another one rushed in behind him, and he whirled, hacking that one to pieces as well. Lucian took the brief respite to catch his breath, then kneeled beside Shalelu and laid a hand upon her chest. Closing his eyes, he allowed his healing magic to flow into her, staunching her bleeding and easing her breath.

Zula saw that Katiyana was recovering from her previous assault, so she focused her voice and blasted again.
"Now, while she's distracted!" the thunder-caller shouted. "Someone get up there!"
Haroldo nodded and ran towards the nearest wall. He concentrated the rage boiling through his blood, and then through a sheer effort of will, he began scaling the wall with his hands like some giant, savage arachnid. Mazael's solution was less eloquent. He pulled the stopper from a flask with his teeth, and then upended it. A moment later, he flew into the air, Desna's blessing allowing him to soar through the buffeting winds, and charged towards the platform upon with Katiyana stood. He reached her just as she regained her balance for a second time, and slashed at her with Suishen. She screeched in pain, and leaped off the platform, spreading her wings and soaring across the chamber.

Down below, Zula blasted the last two undead inside the hut. As they stumbled back, Lucian put an arrow through one's skull, and Mongo tripped the other then stabbed it on the way down.

Mazael flew after Katiyana just as Haroldo reached the platform where she had been. Her eyes blazed as lightning gathered around her hand and she hurled it at the two warriors, sending electricity sizzling through their bodies. Laughing, she prepared to strike again.
"That will be enough of that!" Lucian muttered from his vantage on the ground where he watched the battle raging overhead.
He spoke a prayer to counteract magic and focused on the gathering electricity around Katiyana. He smiled when, with a satisfying 'pop,' the energy simply vanished.

Haroldo got to his feet, his clothing still smoldering from the lightning strike. As he raised his head, he caught sight of one of the large crystals embedded in the wall just above the platform. It still crackled with energy, and this arced to the other crystals, and to the large sphere above. It gave the blood-rager an idea. Gripping his sword in both hands, he raised it over his head and brought it down upon the crystal as hard as he could. The crystal cracked...a little...but an instant later, a blast of electricity surged from it, engulfing Haroldo. He jittered and danced across the platform for a moment and then, as the electricity died away, he fell motionless to the stone.

Mongo watched Mazael struggle with Katiyana, and noted that she had drawn near another platform. The big Mwangi strapped his pole-arm across his back, and then slipped a pair of steel-clawed gloves over his hands. With these, he was able to get a grip on the icy wall of the chamber and began climbing.

Zula saw Haroldo go down, and she cursed roundly, but she thought the blood-rager was on the right track. She looked up at another of the crystals and then opened her mouth and screamed at it, the sonic blast sending a spiderweb of cracks all through it.

As Mazael pressed his attack, Katiyana hissed in rage. Her eyes glowed blood red as she channeled the fury of the Abyss. Her claws grew wickedly sharp, and she slashed at the war-priest, opening terrible rents in his flesh. He grew dizzy from blood loss, and knew he would not be able to fend off her blows for much longer. Just then, he saw a blur of movement from behind Katiyana as Mongo launched himself off the platform and wrapped his arms around her. She twisted and writhed in his grip, but could not free herself. Mazael saw his only opportunity and rushed forward, Suishen singing in his hands. Once...twice...three times the sword struck, and with the last blow, Katiyana went limp. As she did, the storm sphere above suddenly imploded, and quickly dwindled away into nothingness. At the same time, all of the crystals along the walls exploded, releasing blasts of electricity. One of these caught Mazael, knocking him unconscious and sending him spiraling towards the floor. As the storm died, and the cacophony gave way to blessed silence, a distant scream could be heard being scattered on the polar winds.

________________________________________________

Gathering their wounded, the companions left the Storm Tower and returned to the caravan. The storm had broken, and the roaming bands of undead were nowhere to be found. The mood among the caravaners was jubilant, despite the injuries suffered and the horror they had seen.

"You know," Sandru said later, as they sat around the fire passing a flask of Varisian brandy," I've heard many interesting legends among the traveling folk over the years, but there is one in particular that comes back to me now that we are here, at the top of world, amid the ruins of this city of crystal spires."
"And I suppose you're going to regale us with the details?" Koya laughed, well into her cups.
"You know me too well, Mother," Sandru smiled. He cleared his throat and rose to his feet, warming to his audience.
"The story goes that many years ago, the princes of the Tian country of Waj Khor kept a powerful artifact known as the White Peacock Crown. It was said that this item helped them maintain their independence from their larger, more powerful neighbors. The princes claimed that it gave them the ability to see and hear the truth, which allowed them to thwart the deceptions of the rakshasas to their south, and the oni to the north. The princes even went so far as to make copies of the Crown to prevent would-be thieves from easily stealing it. However, a female ninja named Miriya was not just any thief. She was among the most clever and canny of her clan, and she was able to infiltrate the palace with a small group of her kinsmen, and make off with the true White Peacock Crown. It was not long after that the rival outsiders rose up in power and contested one another for control of Waj Khor, and brother was turned against brother, each enslaved by the warring factions. The small kingdom tore itself apart in civil war.
After their hollow victory, the oni began seeking the Crown, and started hunting down the ninjas of Miriya's clan. The clan master declared the Crown accursed and ordered Miriya to carry it to the farthest reaches of the world, banishing her on pain of death. Accompanied by a few faithful friends, she made her way from place to place, seeking hiding and shelter in great cities and tiny villages, brothels and monasteries. Each time, however, shape-changing pursuers found her, and she was forced to flee before them. In the end, she journeyed far to the north, even beyond the Wall of Heaven mountains that marked the edge of the lands she knew. Beyond, she found only the endless expanse of the frozen north. She and her friends infiltrated a caravan heading across the Crown of the World, covering their trail with a false sea voyage in hopes of throwing off their pursuers."
"Halfway across the Crown, their luck ran out. The oni caught up with them again, slaughtering most of the caravan before they were driven off. Miriya and the surviving caravaners left the known pathways and lost themselves in the northern mountains. They wandered for weeks until they discovered a long-forgotten legend: a strange city of towers, midnight blue and gleaming silver, and shattered glass, at once ruined and yet enduring from time out of mind. Approaching the outskirts and breaking into a low building at the foot of an impossibly high tower, Miriya and her companions found strange crystals and metallic carvings and artifacts that they broke loose to sell. Miriya, now half-mad, stated that she knew she had truly reached the farthest reaches of the world as she had promised her master, and there she would stay with the White Peacock Crown, hidden forever where the oni would never find it. She took the Crown down a long tunnel, impossibly straight and lit by lines of blue light, and Xam and Odashu, the last two surviving caravaners, sealed shut the door behind her."
"How do you know all of this?" Mazael asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Because I spoke with Xam himself when I met him once in Kalsgaard," Sandru replied. "He and Odashu eventually made their way across the pole, arriving in the trade villages just below the high ice. They kept their mysterious trade goods close, but were free with parts of their tales, which were little believed but much enjoyed by the locals. After venturing farther south, they had plans to return in force to loot the ancient ruins, but they were disappointed to find little market for the oddments they had brought with them. The strange relics of crystal and wire and tiny blinking lights seemed to have no purpose but decoration. Finally arriving in Kalsgaard, they found merchants who saw profit in these strange things, but pressed them for details of their tale. Sadly, they were unable to accurately track their journey, and hope of a triumphant return at the head of their own caravan was lost. In despair and drunken rage, Xam and Odashu fell into an argument, and Xam killed his partner. He himself was later tried and executed for the murder."

"Fascinating," Mazael grumbled, "but what's that got to do with us?"
"Don't you see?" Sandru asked, spreading his hands. "The blue crystal spires Xam described...we are here! From his description of the great tower, I think I can find the building where they last saw Miriya. If nothing else, it might be a pleasant diversion and a chance to gather some exotic trade goods that we might take with us to Tian Xia."
He looked to the others, most of whom shrugged noncommittally.
"If there really is such a relic that was meant to protect against the oni," Ameiko said at length, "then I think we are obligated to find it."

___________________________________________________

The following morning, as the companions gathered their gear and prepared to trek further into the ruins, Koya approached Zula.
"I consulted the Harrow this morning," the old woman said without preamble. "The cards told me that an exploration of this city carries both risk and reward."
"Obviously," Zula nodded.
"However," Koya continued, somewhat irritated, "they also told me that the tale of the madwoman Miriya does not tell the whole story. The Crown that she carries is not cursed, but it bears some great virtue against the oni and their kind, and it was for this reason that they sought it out and tried to destroy it and all who knew of it."

_______________________________________________

Sandru found the low bunker just where Xam had described it. The blue-black stone structure protruded from the ice at the base of a monolith over a half-mile in height. Dimly visible beneath a thick layer of frost was a faint tracery of silvery wire inlaid in a repeating star-like pattern encircling a hexagonal portal in the bunker's face. To the right of the portal was a hexagonal panel of milky-white crystal, spider-webbed with cracks and smashed through in several places.

Haroldo hacked away the icy covering with his blade, and Zula bent to examine the panel.
"It's similar to the ones in the Storm Tower," she said, mostly to herself. "Someone didn't want it functional. Maybe your mysterious ninja woman, Sandru. I think, however, that with a little time, I may be able to repair it."
She bent to the task, working like a master craftsman. Her fingers deftly manipulated the fine structures within the panel, until finally it flared with blue light, and the hexagonal sections of the portal slid aside.

Beyond the doorway was a ramp heading down. A bit down the hexagonal corridor, tiny pinpoints of blue light flickered into view, emanating from the floor at regular intervals.
"Just as Xam said," Sandru observed. "A long corridor lined with blue lights. Miriya was last seen going that way."
As the companions moved down the ramp, more of the lights continued to appear when they approached. The ramp continued a few hundred feet, descending gently, before it disgorged onto a square platform lit by similar lights. The floors and walls of the chamber were covered in cracked tiles, smeared with some dark residue. To the left and right were the ruined remnants of what may once have been smaller rooms, though whether they were closets, cells or even sleeping quarters was impossible to tell. All that remained were the broken bases of interior walls and what may have been horizontal shelves or bunks. Directly ahead, a metallic jamb or frame held fragments of a shattered glassine wall. Beyond, steps dropped down to a sunken catwalk. As they walked among the broken fragments, Zula bent down when she noticed a metallic object gleaming in the dim light. It was a circular pendant engraved with a star pattern on both sides. Not knowing what to make of it, she tucked it away in her tunic.

The metallic grated catwalk extended down another hexagonal tunnel leading off into darkness. Unlike the previous one, this one was unlit. The walls were made of stone, cracked in many places, and slick with moisture, with patches of slimy residue congealing in many places. At irregular intervals, the cracks opened into wider crevices, no more than a foot wide, where the residue was thicker. Mazael was leading the group, and as he stepped over one of these crevices, the black substance within suddenly rose up as a large, amorphous mass.
"Watch out!" Lucian shouted as he quickly loosed three arrows towards the thing.
To his dismay, as each arrow struck, the ooze split apart, until four of the blobs now filled the corridor.
"Stand aside!" Zula commanded.
She opened her throat, and the resulting sonic boom blasted all four of the oozes apart.

_____________________________________________________

Ahead in the distance in the seemingly endless tunnel, there was a flickering blue light, guttering out and then after a brief span wanly returning before again going dark. Approaching closer, the companions could see the battered hulk of a hexagonal metallic tube, with cracked bubble-like windows along both sides and at each end. Several bluish lights seemed to be moving inside the hulk. As they moved towards the wreckage, a half-dozen hunched, misshapen humanoids clutching long shards of metal emerged from within. They were clad only in rags and sagging drapes of skin, and their flesh glowed with a pale blue light, their eyes a baleful red.

The creatures rushed forward in a swarm, moving so swiftly that they were among the heroes before they could react. One of them stabbed Mazael in the back with its spear as it passed. Mongo tripped and stabbed one before it could reach him, and Haroldo struck another. Lucian shot a third one, but none of the wretched things would fall. It was almost as if blows deflected off their strange skin. To make matters worse, another black pudding-like ooze rose up behind the companions, attracted by the sounds of the melee.

Zula made quick work of the ooze, just as she'd done with the previous one. Her compatriots fought frantically as the resilient morlocks scrambled around them like rats. The creatures took more punishment than seemed possible before falling, leaving the heroes bloodied but with no serious wounds. They gathered themselves and pushed past the wrecked vehicle, continuing down into darkness.

Grand Lodge

Don't mind me. I'm just lurking.


Lurk away!!


6 Erastus, 4715 - The Forbidden City

After a long traverse of the hex-tunnel, passing occasional dripping crevices and black sludge pools teeming with tiny white worms, but seeing naught else save for nearly transparent spiders and black-shelled arthropods with red, glowing eyes, the companions saw a catwalk rising above them, and beyond it a ramp leading up. A metal jamb held the remnant of a shattered glass wall, much like the one they passed at the tunnel's other end. Beyond this, the ramp continued another couple of hundred feet before emerging into a large chamber crafted of stone, tile and metal, with large windows, mostly broken. Strangely curved mosaics and carvings, looking almost half-melted, decorated the walls while vaguely disturbing statuary in an inhuman style stood at the foot of each pillar between the great windows. There were no obvious doors visible, though the empty steel window frames offered ample egress into the unearthly cityscape beyond.

"What that?" Boris asked, pointing towards something high on one wall. "Look like metal spider."
Haroldo looked up to where the goblin was pointing, and his eyes went wide. Clinging to to the wall above one of the windows was a tiny steel creature with one oversized eye, a spherical body, and several spider-like legs of grinding metal. An identical one sat motionless on the opposite wall.
"Clockwork spies," the blood-rager said. "My father used similar constructs to infiltrate the businesses of his rivals. They have small gems inside them that can record sounds...like conversations."
"There's something etched into their carapaces," Piotr said, squinting to make out the detail. "A sigil maybe?"
"It Tian," Boris remarked. "Ameiko teach Boris when Boris make her yummy dinner. Boris think it mean...fancy white bird or something."
"White peacock?" Piotr asked.
"Maybe," the goblin shrugged. "Boris go check out."
"Wait!" Piotr said, holding up one hand. "The other one might spot you and run. Let me cover you."
Boris nodded. "Fire-wizard pretty smart," he said, tapping on bony finger against his forehead.

Piotr drew a wand from his belt and flicked it as he spoke a command word. The air in front of the nearest clockwork spy shimmered for a moment, and then an image appeared. It looked to be an exact copy of the wall to which the automaton clung.
"Now!" the sorcerer commanded. "When you step through the illusion, the other construct won't see you!"
Boris nodded again, enthusiastically. He darted through the mirage and then clambered stealthily up the wall. The clockwork spy remained motionless, apparently unaware of his presence. He could see the gem stone set inside the thing's eye socket, and he reached carefully forward and deftly plucked it out, grinning. At that moment, the thing sprang into motion with a high-pitched, mechanical screech. It thrashed its sharp legs at Boris, who dodged nimbly away. Then the goblin heard a whirring, clanking noise immediately below him. He looked down and saw that one of the statues at the base of a nearby pillar had animated. Cogs and gears were visible in the gaps of the metallic creature's armor. It wielded a pole-arm as it snapped to attention and peered up at Boris. Boris shrieked and leaped from the wall, tumbling to the floor and through the illusory wall. He darted across the chamber and then climbed the far wall, where he grabbed the second clockwork spy before it could try to escape. To his horror, another statue, again just below him on the floor, came to life and glared up at him with baleful, red eyes.

Lucian shook his head when he saw what was transpiring. He pivoted towards the first clockwork spy, which was still thrashing about on the wall, and put an arrow through its carapace. It fell to the floor, convulsing for a moment, before exploding in a small burst of flame. Then his eyes widened when he saw the first statue charging across the floor towards him. As it drew near, it whipped its pole-arm around in a wide arc, and slashed across both of the oracle's arms. He cried out in agony as he momentarily lost feeling in his hands.
"Get behind me!" Mazael shouted as he tried put himself between Lucian and the machine. It slashed at him as he moved, opening a deep gouge in his thigh.
"I've got it!" Piotr cried as he tossed off a volley of magic missiles, only to see them deflect harmlessly off of the thing's metallic hide.
"No!" Lucian snarled, blood running down his arms. "I've got it!"
He loosed three arrows over Mazael's shoulder, from point-blank range. All three struck true, one of them piercing through some sort of rubber tube in the automaton's neck, sending viscous fluid spraying through the air. The thing shuddered, went rigid, and then fell immobile to the ground.
"Good work, for an archer," Mazael said grudgingly.
"Look out!" Lucian shouted, pointing behind the war-priest.
Mazael whirled and saw the second clockwork soldier closing in on him. He braced himself for another blow, but instead it reached out one metal clawed-hand, and wrenched Suishen from his grasp.

Across the chamber, Boris managed to pin the mechanical spider against the wall, and then pried the gemstone out of its eye socket.
"Boris have it!" he shouted triumphantly, holding aloft the gem.
When he glanced around, however, he saw that his companions were otherwise occupied.

Seeing that his magic missiles had no effect, Piotr tried another tactic. He quickly cast another spell, and released an ear piercing shriek that sent the automaton stumbling back a step or two, but then it lumbered forward again. As it came, Mongo jammed his halberd between its legs and sent it tumbling to the floor. As it tripped, he rammed the blade of the pole-arm into its inner workings. It screeched inhumanly, then struggled back upright. Haroldo leaped forward and hacked at it as it rose, but it caught his blade and turned it with Suishen, then quickly reversed the parry and slashed at the blood-rager with the Amatatsu relic, setting his clothes aflame. As he batted at the fire, Lucian put an arrow into the construct's hip socket, slowing its momentum. Still smoldering, Haroldo gripped his sword tightly and hacked down with all his might, driving the blade through most of the soldier's gears. Finally, it ground to a halt. A moment later, chagrined, Mazael snatched Suishen out of its hand.
'I may need to rethink my choice of wielder,' the sword said, its voice dripping with disdain.

____________________________________________________

Perhaps because the wind was buffered by the strange monoliths stretching in all directions, the polar chill was less intense than beyond the bunker where the companions entered the ruins, though frost still rimed every surface. The atrium opened onto a plaza, with narrow avenues extending in all directions between massive angular towers of metal, stone and glass, much weathered and scarred by time and the elements. Here and there, large, twisted green plants twined up the sides of ancient buildings, and occasionally a whisper of movement was seen through the haze of bluish radiance shrouding the sky above.

The heroes had no idea where to start their search for Miriya or the White Peacock crown in the strange cityscape, but they new she had come this way at some time in the past. They spread out within the plaza and began looking for any trace of her passing, and after an hour or so of searching, it was Mazael that discovered the first evidence: a scuffed boot print made by someone with a small foot...perhaps a woman.

They followed the tracks through the winding streets, but they were few and far between, requiring a lot of time hunting amidst the ruins. Along the way, the companions ran afoul of small packs of force morlocks, which were efficiently dealt with before continuing their search. Occasionally, they spotted another clockwork spy high on a building wall, but Lucian was able to destroy them with well-placed arrows before they could escape. Once, they even stumbled into a huge moonflower, though the specimen was smaller than the one they'd encountered in the Storm Tower, and easily dealt with by one or two fireballs courtesy of Piotr.

Finally, the faint traces they had been following converged on a building with wide, low steps leading up to shattered glass doors flanked by massive stone pillars. A similar doorway provided egress farther down the building's facade, but the nearer doorway, in the shadow of a collapsed sky-bridge overhead, revealed a curious lump of vaguely human-looking metallic sculpture atop the remnants of a pedestal. Across a rubble and ice-choked boulevard the fallen bridge once spanned, lay a companion building, blockier in shape and with what appeared to be a long-empty fountain.

As the heroes examined the buildings, a ragged crone dressed in furs and robes suddenly stepped out of the shadows of a narrow alley. A weathered bow was in her hands, an arrow knocked but not drawn. Though frail with age, a hard light was in her eyes. With a suspicious glare, she addressed them in heavily accented Common.
"Who are you, strangers? What do you want? Cannot an old woman who has caused more misery than anyone should, be left alone to die in peace...if I even can die here? That thrice-damned light has stretched my years too long already, I think. Either way, there is nothing for you here. Go, and be glad you did."
"Is your name Miriya?" Lucian asked.
"That name no longer has any meaning for me!" the old woman snapped. "If you came here following tales of treasure, there is none, only desolation and loneliness. Maybe you heard I had something of great worth. You heard wrong. I had nothing. I am nothing. You should go while you still can. If you stay too long, the light will take hold of you. Have you seen those poor wretches that live below? That will be your fate as it surely will be mine. Maybe it will be sweeter to forget anyway."
"We are traveling with the last surviving scion of House Amatatsu," Lucian explained. "We are returning her to Minkai to take her rightful place on the Jade Throne. The oni of the Five Storms oppose us, and we heard that the White Peacock Crown might aid in our struggle against them."
The woman sighed, and bowed her head.
"It seems that we may have enemies in common," she replied. "Yes, Miriya, that was my name, and yes I stole the Crown. Thought it would make me famous, and so it did, or infamous at least. Fate is not without a sense of humor, it seems, though I've never found it funny. I was cast out and I ran, here and there, trying to hide it, to let the world be rid of its curse, if cursed it truly was. I don't know. All I knew was fear, and I kept running all the way to the ends of the earth. Those merchants, Xam and Odashu, they helped me get here, but once I got here, I was out of ideas."
"I sought for years for the perfect hiding place, knowing that someday the oni would catch me. I couldn't let them find it. I kept following the strange little metal spiders, and finally found a great machine that seemed to build them and repair them and their kin. I sneaked inside the machine...I was trained in stealth, after all...and hid the crown inside, but something went wrong. The machine turned on, and it sprayed something strange on me. As I stumbled away, dizzy, it stabbed at me with some kind of long arm. I got away, but not long after I started seeing a strange new creature in the ruins. It looked like me, or me as I was in my youth, but half flesh and half metal. Somehow it had drawn my thoughts out, and made weapons like I once used long ago. It was as if my body and mind had been turned inside out and poured into a mold. What came out was that THING! It watches me sometimes. I know it does, and it has stopped me from getting back into the machine to retrieve the Crown, but it does not kill me. I don't know why. I've seen it kill many others, but that mercy is forever denied me."
"I can show you where the great machine is. Perhaps I can even draw out my doppelganger. Perhaps our combined strength can succeed where I alone could not. Then we can destroy the machine and retrieve the Crown so that we may use it to overthrow the oni that plague my homeland."


6 Erastus, 4715-7 Erastus, 4715-The True Guardian

"Movement!" Mazael shouted in warning. "On the roof!"
He pointed across the wide avenue to the angled rooftop of a nearby building. There, crouched atop the peak, was a black-clad figure. The slight physique suggested a female, but with its face shrouded in dark cloth, it was difficult to be certain. Metal glinted all over its body, protruding from the folds of its clothing at odd angles, and small blue lights winked on and off along its limbs. At Mazael's warning, the figure stood and drew a star-shaped disc from its cloak the size of a dinner plate. This she hurled with a flick of her wrist, and it spun through the air and stuck in Lucian's shoulder. The oracle cried out in pain, but before he could pull the shuriken loose, it exploded with a flash of blue fire, scorching his face and arm. A moment later, the mysterious assassin simply vanished.
"Damn ninjas!" Piotr hissed, remembering all too well the deadly warriors they had encountered at Ravenscraag. The sorcerer cast a spell, and the air around the companions began to hum with energy.
"She won't be sneaking up on us now!" he announced.
"It is the doppleganger!" Miriya shouted. "I told you she would come for me! I am too old for such a battle. If she catches me, she will try to take me back to the machine! I will cover you with my bow, but I will not stay here!"
With that, she closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated, furrowing her brow. Then she opened them again, and rose up into the air, flying to a nearby rooftop.
"Since when do ninja's cast spells?" Mazael wondered aloud.

"She's here!" Lucian shouted.
From out of thin air, landing in a nimble crouch, the dark assassin appeared in the midst of the heroes. Piotr's spell had rendered her unable to use her vanishing trick, and she looked around in mild surprise. Up close, it was obvious that her body was as much metal as flesh and bone. She rose to her feet with the mechanical whine of gears and motors.
"Fools!" she spat in Tian, which only Boris and Piotr could understand. "Slaves to evil! You will never have it! NEVER! Die with your foul masters!"
She flicked another shuriken at Sandru. It grazed the caravan master's arm, but he dove to the side, just avoiding its explosion.
"Boris not know what you talking about, crazy machine-lady," the goblin replied in the same language, lunging towards her, "but Boris stab you anyway so you stop talking."
As he moved forward, however, the ninja drew out a length of chain linking a sharp blade on one end and a weighted metal ball on the other. She whipped it towards the goblin, entangling his feet and yanking them from under him.
"Now, my minions!" she cried, pointing towards the metallic sculptures that stood in front of the building on the far side of the street.
With a lurch of metal on metal, two of them rumbled into motion and began lumbering towards the melee. As they closed, Mongo stuck out his halberd and sent one of them tumbling to the ground. The second one moved past him and swung with its own pole-arm at Piotr, dealing the sorcerer and massive blow that nearly knocked him from his feet. Lucian quickly snapped off a shot at the automaton, but his arrow glanced off its metal hide. He then pivoted and fired at the ninja, but she deftly batted the shaft out of the air with her bare hand. She whirled and her fist shot out, striking Sandru in the throat as he moved to flank her. She spun again and delivered a straight-leg kick into Mongo's gut as he closed in.

"Wait, crazy machine-lady!" Boris gasped, holding up his hands as she stalked towards him where he still lay on the ground. "We not here to fight you! Old ninja-woman tell us you try to kill her when she try and get back her bird hat!"
"Exactly!" she spat back at him. "You are trying to steal the Crown and give it to the oni!"
"What??" Boris shrieked. "No! We fight oni! We kill oni! We taking lost empress Ameiko back to homeland to get green chair from oni!"
"Green chair?" the woman asked suspiciously. "Do you mean the Jade Throne?"
"Yes!" Boris nodded. "That what Boris say! We want white bird hat to help her!"
"Then why are you with THAT oni!?" she hissed, pointing towards the roof where Miriya still crouched.
"Liar!" Miriya shouted back. "Don't believe her! Remember what I told you! She was created to replace me! She will kill us all!"
"Mazael?" Piotr asked, turning towards the war-priest. "Does Helgarvarl detect any evil from this woman?"
'No, my friend,' the angel spoke into Mazael's mind.
"He says not," Mazael relayed the message.
"What about her?" Piotr nodded towards the old woman on the roof.
"Let's find out," the war-priest growled.
He began walking into the air, courtesy of Suishen, and as he drew closer to Miriya, she tensed visibly.
"What are you doing??" she cried. "Destroy that imposter!"
"We'll see who's the imposter," Mazael replied. "Helgarvarl?"
'There is evil here,'" the angel confirmed.
"She's lying!" Mazael shouted, pointing at the crone.
"Fools!" she snapped. "You will all die here! I swear it!"
She turned and flew from the rooftop, disappearing rapidly into the ruins.

________________________________________________

The ninja commanded her clockwork soldiers to stand down, and the companions warily put away their own weapons as well.
"Who are you?" Piotr asked in Tian.
"I am Miriya," the woman replied simply.
"That's who the old woman told us she was," the sorcerer said. "She said some sort of machine had made a mechanical doppelganger of her."
Miriya laughed, a hollow, metallic sound.
"Would you expect anything but lies and fabrication from an oni?" she asked.
"Oni?" Piotr queried. "What do you mean?"
Miriya sighed and sat cross-legged on the ground.
"If you came her searching for the White Peacock Crown, they I assume you know it was me who stole it all those years ago."
"Yes," Pitor nodded. "Our caravan master heard the tale from the merchants Xam and Odashu."
Miriya smiled humorlessly.
"Yes, they were loyal companions," she said. "They did not want to leave me here, but I insisted. Within weeks after they departed, I stumbled upon a barely sentient machine that sought to steal my mind and make me a thoughtless automaton. So strong was my will to live, however, that a spark of humanity remained within me. I renewed my vigil to protect the Crown from the oni that I knew would probably find me again. I set about turning the strange, living machines of this city to serve my purposes. When the oni finally came, they were taken off guard to find me still young and hale. I lured them to the great machine that created me, but for them it held only death and rebirth as cybernetic slaves. Only one of the oni escaped, called Liao Ku. It was him that you encountered, disguised as my older self. He sought to trick you into facing the great machine yourselves and retrieve the Crown for him. He must be hunted down, lest he take word of the Crown's location back to his masters, as well as news of your empress."
"Can you help us obtain the Crown?" Piotr asked. "It would be of great value to Ameiko in regaining her birthright. We have already slain several members of the Five Storms, but it is only a matter of time before we face them again."
"I cannot fight the great machine directly," Miriya shook her head, "but I can lead you to its lair, and aid you as I may. Be warned, however, not all of you may return from this endeavor alive."

__________________________________________________

Miriya took the companions to her home,a sparsely furnished chamber in a small building sheltered by inner walls amidst the detritus of ages, where a long metal table held several scraps of cloth stretched across makeshift frames, showing faded patterns of embroidery in the Tian style. Dozens of bottles in all shapes and sizes were arranged neatly, as was a collection of metallic and glass bowls which held strange powders and residues, alongside strange metal devices of uncertain function. A flat slab of stone, marred with many scratches, seemed to function as a bed, with a gossamer veil surrounding it. A metallic man bustled about the room, cleaning and polishing the floor to a shine.

The heroes rested the night and regained their strength in relative safety. The following morning, Miriya led them to a building that she called the manufactory. In contrast to the towering facades and monoliths around it, the structure was comparatively low-slung, set into a natural rise with a metallic portal offering access to the upper level, and a second set of metal doors at the foot of the slope allowing access to the lower level. Miriya went to the upper set of doors, a metallic portal comprised of horizontal plates of metal ten feet wide. A slotted crystalline panel lay inside a glazed cabinet set into the wall beside the door. Miriya fiddled with the panel for a moment, and the doors slid aside.

As the companions entered the building, pale blue lights winked into view in the floor, walls and ceiling. Halfway into the room there was a raised platform of metallic plates and mesh braced several feet off the floor, supported on a series of drums and wheels, with the platform seemingly wrapped underneath them as well. The platform passed through a low opening in the far wall only a few feet high, covered by a screen of metallic mesh. A rhythmic hum could be heard beyond the opening. Several crystalline panels were set into the far wall, which was solid metal up to shoulder height, and opaque crystal above. Boris crept forward to examine the apparatus as his friends hung back. Just as he reached the platform, however, he saw a flicker of movement from beneath it. A clockwork spider scurried on top of it and reached out one of its legs to tap out a series of touches on one of the crystal panels. The wheels beneath the platform began to turn, and the wrap-around metal plates began to move. The spider was carried forward and through the metallic mesh, which parted easily to admit the belt of rotating plates.
"Boris get him!" the goblin shouted, and then he dove atop the conveyor belt before his companions could protest.

The belt carried the goblin through the metal mesh and into a vast chamber beyond. It was strewn with cables and machinery. A great machine dominated the room, seeming almost to squat over a golden-glowing circular pit, with small arms reaching outward, while a single metallic tendril writhed sinuously like a clawed hand and glaring eye in one. Two half-mechanical brutes dressed in armor of Eastern manufacture stood nearby on guard, while smaller mechanical beings scuttled over tumbled heaps of arcane circuitry. The moving metallic walkway upon which Boris rode, dropped at an angle down to the floor thirty feet below, where it circled around the the massive machine before looping back around underneath its slanting upper course, passing out through another narrow aperture in another wall. A catwalk of metallic grates with pole-like railings mostly encircled the huge sunken workroom. Untold numbers of cables, conduits, hoists, hooks and pulleys hung from a vast network of girders above. A large, open metal stairwell spiraled down to the floor below, and just across it, another hulking half-metallic humanoid stood armed with a bow and blade. At each corner of the room stood a bank of strange devices tended by a vaguely human mechanical creature, similar to the ones moving about below.

Boris took all of this in within seconds, and then he reached into his pocket and drew out a flask. He pulled the cork with his teeth and quaffed the potion, then flew off of the belt and into the air like an ugly bird. He landed on the nearby catwalk, where he saw a door leading back into the entry chamber where he'd left his friends. It had not been visible from that side. The hulking cyborg on the other side of the stairwell began lurching towards him, and his hands flew across the locking mechanism. At the last second, he heard it click, and he flung the door open, shocked and relieved to see Mazael waiting on the other side. The war-priest shoved Boris aside as he stepped out onto the catwalk, placing himself between Boris and the oncoming cyborg. Just then, Boris saw one of the mechanical men standing in the corner do something to manipulate the bank of machinery in front of it. A grinding noise came from above, and when Boris looked up, he saw a long metallic arm descend from the roof and seize Mazael in its grip. The war-priest bellowed in anger as it pinned his arms to his side, keeping him from bringing up Suishen to block the swing of the cyborg's great-sword as it fell and slashed him from shoulder to hip, piercing his armor and opening a terrible wound. Then, a long hose snaked down from the rafters above. At its tip was a metal nozzle, and this pivoted towards Boris. Before he could leap away, it sprayed a viscous, black fluid straight into the goblin's eyes, blinding him.

At that moment, Mazael saw a blur of movement as Miriya somersaulted out onto the catwalk. The ninja whirled the blade of her kusarigama above her head, then flung it at the cyborg. The edge sliced through its putrid flesh, releasing a great gout of vile green fluid. Boris witnessed this as he wiped the burning sludge from his eyes. The he saw Mazael wrench himself loose from the grip of the mechanical arm, using Desna's blessing to break free. Boris moved towards the war-priest, but then the metal arm pivoted towards him and struck him a solid blow to his chest. He stumbled backwards. Mazael didn't seem to notice. He lunged towards the cyborg, blood flowing freely from his wound. Suishen sliced into the monster, setting flames dancing through its skin. However, in his haste, Mazael had moved right to the edge of the catwalk's railing, and he failed to see the flailing tendril of the great machine below until it was too late. It whipped through the air and slammed into him with devastating force. Mazael was shoved forward, where the cyborg was waiting. The war-priest's momentum drove him straight into the point of the creature's sword, impaling him. Mazael slumped, his eyes closing, then slid backwards to the catwalk, Suishen dropping from his numb fingers.

Mongo reached the catwalk about the same time as Mazael fell. He saw the giant cyborg still standing over his fallen companion and he lifted his pole-arm as he moved towards it. He saw the whip-like tendril coming for him a moment before Miriya shouted a warning. It latched onto him with bone-crushing strength, and snatched him bodily from the platform, holding him high in the air. From the doorway, Lucian rapidly fired four arrows into the flailing appendage, but it did not loosen its grip. Boris leaped into the air and hacked at the tendril. It flexed, and for a moment, the goblin though he'd succeeded, but then it uncoiled and hurled Mongo across the vast chamber. He landed in a heap on the floor, right next to the main body of the great machine. The two cyborgs that stood nearby slowly turned their heads towards him and began to advance.

From his position behind Lucian, Piotr could see across the room to where one of the mechanical men still stood in front of its panel, whatever buttons it was pushing causing the hoses and arms on the ceiling to move towards his friends. The sorcerer cast a spell, and a pit suddenly opened beneath the feet of the robot. It fell without a sound into a pool of caustic acid at the bottom of the hole.

Miriya tumbled nimbly behind the cyborg as Sandru stepped onto the platform and moved to flank the brute. It caught him a glancing blow with its sword as he closed in, but then he and the ninja struck in concert, opening several gaping rents in its hide.

Mongo raised his head, dizzily, just in time to see the cyborgs looming over him. He reached for his halberd, but then the two giants brought their great-swords down, and he knew no more...

Lucian fired more arrows at the cyborg trapped between Miriya and Sandru, his shots finally bringing it down. He pivoted and fired another volley at one of the clockwork men in a nearby corner, causing it to explode as every shot struck true. Behind him, Piotr created a second pit beneath another of the robots, and it plummeted from view. With the catwalk clear, Boris landed again and reached down to grab Suishen. He tucked the sword safely across his back while Sandru lifted Mazael's limp form over his shoulder and carried him out of the chamber.

On the factory floor, the great machine lifted Mongo's lifeless body and then bored into his skull with a dozen small tendrils. A moment later, the Mwangi's eyes snapped open, a milky film covering them. He began lurching about like a puppet on a string, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. Piotr looked on in horror. He gathered arcane energy into his palm and hurled it towards the floor. It exploded in green fire, showering the central processor, the giant cyborgs, the clockwork robots, and Mongo with burning acid. When the blast cleared, only one of the cyborgs and the great machine were still intact.

The surviving companions were stunned. They stood on the catwalk looking at the carnage below. As they watched, the remaining cyborg lurched towards the stairwell and began climbing towards them. Worse, the central processor itself wrenched its massive bulk from the floor and began slowly, laboriously, crawling their way. Lucian fired at it as it advanced, and Piotr hurled another acid ball. Boris rushed across the catwalk to intercept the approaching cyborg, but before he could reach it, the processor's tendril grabbed him from behind and began crushing the life out of him. Lucian kept up his barrage of arrows, desperately trying to bring down the infernal machine. Beside him, Piotr cast the last of his acidic fireballs. The central processor was in ruins, pieces of it falling to the floor, and great holes melted into its carapace, yet still it would not release the goblin. Boris managed to wriggle one arm free as his vision began to darken, and he hacked and hacked at the tendril, until finally, it went limp and released him. Before he lost consciousness, he saw Sandru and Miriya close on the last cyborg and chop it to pieces.

___________________________________________________

Miriya held up the ornate headpiece, which had been crafted of white gold, inlaid with lapis lazuli and spangled with dozens of jewels.
"It has many powers," she explained, "but chief among them is its ability to allow the wearer to detect the presence of shapechangers, including oni. They will never be able to deceive you again. I present it to you so that you may give it to the Destined Empress."
"Why don't you give it to her yourself?" Piotr asked. "There is nothing here for you know. Come home with us."
Miriya lowered her eyes and was silent for a moment.
"I...I would be honored," she said quietly.

The companions gathered their wounded and their dead then, with Miriya accompanying them, retraced their path out of the ruined city. Unseen by any of them, a pair of hateful eyes watched them go...


Ouch! Pretty deadly sidetrek adventure here, huh? Hope that at least Mazael will come out of it alive or can be resurrected. Kudos!


Yes, that encounter went south very quickly. The central processor was brutal. I will reveal next week the fall out.


7 Erastus, 4715 - 21 Erastus, 4715

Ameiko was honored when Miriya presented the White Peacock Crown to her, and even more so when the ninja offered her service, which was accepted graciously. After much discussion, it was decided that Lucian would actually wear the Crown, much as Mazael had borne Suishen. There was no discussion about the war-priest's fate. Ameiko immediately opened the warding box of the Amatatsu Seal and used the artifact to restore Mazael to life. Though weakened from his trip to the Other Side, he was none-the-worse for wear. Afterwards, Ulf informed everyone that they were bound for Dead Man's Dome next, a landmark located some 500 miles away where he hoped to regain the Path of Aganhei.

Within two days of setting out from the Storm Tower, Miriya was not looking well. She moved more slowly, and her words were at times slurred and confused. As the days went on, her metallic components began to show signs of rust, and her gears whined and ground noisily, at times freezing up. The blue lights embedded in her flesh flickered, and some went dark completely. Though the caravan healers tried their best, they could not find nor cure what ailed her. By the ninth day on the road, she could not go on. She called for Ameiko as she lay dying in one of the wagons.
"Thank you, my Lady," she said quietly when Ameiko came to her, "for giving me the opportunity to set right some of my pasts wrongs. Free our country and return it to its former glory. Now, I welcome oblivion."
With that, she died, and within moments, her flesh liquified to a pale blue fluid that rapidly evaporated, and her metallic pieces corroded to dust.

_____________________________________________________

The caravan was still some fifty miles from Deadman's Dome when the scouts spotted the first of the undead. At first there were just a few, visible far in the distance standing atop a ridge. Before long, however, the numbers steadily increased, and could be seen coming from all directions. It soon became obvious that the caravan was being slowly surrounded.
"We keep making for the Dome!" Ulf commanded. "It is a more defensible position!"
"Just out of curiosity," Mazael asked, "why is it called Dead Man's Dome?"
"There is a legend," Ulf replied. "There was once a mighty watchtower there, paid for by taxes levied upon merchant trains using the Path of Aganhei and sheltering under its protection. Two centuries ago, however, the tower and its grounds were attacked by an army of giants and undead. Many caravans were slaughtered, but a lone hero taken on as a guard led a charge that broke the enemy lines and then held off the hordes long enough to allow the surviving caravans to escape. The hero then fought his way back and, according to the tale, lured the enemy inside the tower and collapsed it upon himself and them. None knew his name, so those who marked the fallen tower as his cairn simply called it Dead Man's Dome. There are still stories told that the spirit of the lone warrior still guards travelers who come there."
"Comforting," Mazael grunted.

By the time the caravan reached the round, bald hill, the walking dead were nearly upon them. They just had time to circle the wagons and prepare the defenses. Boris donated a fugitive grenade he'd taken from the corpse of a ninja, which when thrown, created a temporary extradimensional pocket. There, the drovers and the cooks hid themselves. Meanwhile, Zula wove a magical tiny hut around herself and her companions. It was opaque to those looking from the outside, but occupants within could see clearly through its walls. It was just then, however, that a small voice called out from the ruined foundations of the watchtower. Everyone turned at once, weapons ready to deal with whatever malevolent horror had managed to infiltrate them. What they saw gave them all pause. A diminutive figure stood atop a fallen stone, a bristly black beard framing a round face featuring a truly prodigious nose.
"Hullo," he said jovially. "Name's Phive...Gnome-Brr Phive, if it pleases you. Glad you folks came along, as I was starting to fret about every getting off this rock. Besides that I was getting mighty hungry as well. Ran out of food about three days ago."
"What are you doing here?" Zula snapped. "Speak quickly! We have enemies approaching from all sides and no time for foolishness!"
"Whoa, little missy," Phive held up his hands placatingly. "I'm in just as dire straits as you are...more so probably. My own caravan was attacked here about two weeks past. Killed to a man, save for yours truly, and that's only because I'm awfully good at not being seen when I don't want to be. I've been holed up here ever since, hoping more travelers would happen along...and here you are!"
"What kind of dwarf are you?" Boris asked suspiciously.
"Hah!" Phive laughed. "No kind! I'm a svirfneblin...a deep gnome as you surface folk call us. Got lured above ground by the promise of a whole lot of gems. Don't see myself collecting on that debt anytime soon."
"Well, Gnome-Brr Phive," Zula said. "I hope you have something useful you can lend in battle, or you may just end up waiting for the next band of fools to come along."

The first enemies that the heroes saw cresting the top of the hill, were a half-dozen or more hoarfrost spirits. Shalelu fired a volley of arrows through the wall of the shelter, and dropped one in its tracks, but the others surrounded the hut, sensing the pulsing life's blood of the living within. Once they'd gathered in a ring, the frozen dead unleashed blasts of frigid ice and bone-numbing cold that pierced the walls of the hut and engulfed all within. For the scions and Ameiko, this was as effective as a warm summer breeze, thanks to the protection afforded by Suishen. Others were not so fortunate, including Koya, who collapsed to the ground from the force of the blasts. Sandru, despite being chilled to the bone by the blasts, rushed to the edge of the dome, where one of the undead stood on just the other side. He slashed once with his scimitar, and sent the thing's head flying from its shoulders. At the same time, Phive rushed to Koya's side, and placed his ear to her chest. Her heart still beat, though faintly. He reached into his tunic and drew out a small amulet which was inscribed with a symbol of a two-toned mask...Nethys, the god of magic. He spoke a word of prayer over the amulet, and it pulsed with blue light. Koya drew a deep, shuddering breath, and then opened her eyes, staring up at the gnome in gratitude and confusion.

The frozen dead closed in on the dome from all sides, then began stepping through its opaque wall. The companions stood back-to-back, the archers, Boris, Lucian and Shalelu, picking their targets with deadly accuracy. The warriors took out any stragglers who made it past the lethal barrage, protecting the less hardy members of their band inside their defensive circle. In a matter of moments, the last of the hoarfrost spirits fell, but the reprieve was to be only a brief one. Already, more enemies could be seen coming over the hilltop.

The second wave consisted of a half-dozen ravening winter wights. The hunch-backed creatures ran on all fours, howling and snarling as they charged towards the dome. Boris shot one down in its tracks with a well-placed shaft through the throat. Lucian's and Shalelu's bows took down three more, and Mazael and Sandru met the last two and cut them down before they could even cross the threshold of the hut. The companions took a moment to catch their breath, and wait for what was to come.

___________________________________________________

They all heard it at the same time. A distant noise on the wind, like the tinkling of chimes. This was followed by a deep, booming sound, like that of heavy footfalls. They drew inexorably closer, coming from all sides of the hill. On opposite sides, two hulking, skeletal figures dressed in chain shirts and wielding great-swords lumbered into view. Each of them was accompanied by what looked to be a great bison, but on closer inspection, was obviously no longer among the living. Large holes were ripped from the flesh, showing bone and tendon beneath. Their eyes were dead white, and ice hung from curved horns. From the eastern and western sides of the hill, another pair of the bisons charged. The wind-chime noise rose in intensity, until it became the unmistakable sound of a woman's laughter.

The heroes who had the capability to do so unleashed their most powerful ranged assaults on the incoming undead while they were still at a distance. Bows twanged, and Zula's voice boomed, its echoes rolling across the hillside. One of the undead bisons collapsed, but the remaining three, as well as the giant skeletons, reached the perimeter of the hut. One of the giants slammed its huge blade into Spivey, sending the little angel hurtling across the hut. Mazael and Sandru moved to intercept the brute, while Skygni met one of the charging bisons head-on as it lowered its horns and gored Boris. Shalelu rolled out its way, and then fired an arrow through its heart just as Skygni's jaws clamped down on its throat, driving it to the ground. Mazael and Sandru circled and flanked the giant, avoiding its devastating blows, while hacking and slashing at its weak spots. Within moments, they brought it down. Meanwhile, across the dome, Boris and Lucian kept the second giant occupied while Zula's thundercalls gradually reduced it to bone shards. Another wave of her devastating voice felled another of the bison, as Skygni leaped atop the last one and ripped out its throat.

The last wave of assailants consisted of two enormous creatures made of solid ice, led by a smaller individual clad in icy armor and crowned with a rack of antlers, mounted atop a huge, undead mammoth. Though formidable, they were ultimately no match for the companions. Zula's devastating voice cracked the cold rider's armor, stunning him, then killing him with a second blast. The mammoth and the elementals made it to the hut, but the combined might of the heroes overwhelmed them with only a few minor injuries suffered in turn.

Quiet finally returned to Dead Man's Dome, and with it came the Dome's guardian. The heroes were taken aback to find a transparent figure dressed in ancient armor standing in their midst. At first they thought it was another attack, but then the spirit spoke.
"You have my gratitude, warriors. Long have I defended this place from those who prey upon travelers, and when I took your measure, I knew that I was among kindred spirits. Your service will not be forgotten...,"
As he faded from view, an object lay on the ground where he had stood...a small, terra cotta statue of a Tian warrior...
"Yeah?" Phive humphed. "Where were you when my folk need you?"


21 Erastus - 22 Arodus - The Paths of the Dead

Over the next ten days, the caravan followed the Path of Aganhei once more, down from the High Ice and into the basin surrounding Ruun Uvas, where they arrived at the village of Ul-Angorn. Gnome-Brr Phive, having few options, elected to accompany them, at least for the time being. They rested there briefly, buying and selling goods, then continued south for four more days to Ovorikheer Pass. The pass was twenty miles long, and ascended five-thousand feet through the geothermally active vales of Baruun's Breath. When the train reached the top of the pass, it entered the ice-sheathed Domagalki Forest, known as the Wood of Winter's Deadly Roar. As they walked through the silent trees, a sudden flurry of snow and ice began drifting down on them. Mazael glanced up in annoyance, grumbling about the damnable weather, and his eyes went round as saucers. Perched in the branches of several trees some thirty-feet above them, was a white-furred spider the size of a house!
"'Ware the trees!" he shouted as he drew Suishen and used the sword's magic to begin walking into the air towards the gargantuan arachnid.
Before he'd gone a dozen paces, however, the hair on the spider's abdomen bristled as it tensed its body and then flung several of the foot-long fibers towards him. One of them brushed his face, leaving behind a trail of green ichor. Immediately, his stomach seized and he began vomiting violently.

"Damn that man!" Lucian cursed. "Always rushing in without thinking!"
He knocked an arrow and loosed, sending the shaft into the tarantula's thorax, but not really slowing it down.
"Mazael! Fall back!" Zula shouted as she erected one of her handy tiny huts.
Mazael nodded in between retching and hurried back down to the ground and through the opaque wall of the shelter.
"Easy boy," Phive said as he stepped up and laid a hand on the war-priest's belly, speaking a word of prayer as he did so.
Instantly, Mazael felt the nausea leave him.
"Thank," he said grudgingly. "I guess that's one I owe you."

By that time, the spider had climbed down to the ground and began scuttling towards the dome. Before it could reach the perimeter, however, Piotr lobbed a fireball into its path, causing it to rear up on its back four legs, screeching horribly as its fur burned. Boris and Lucian fired their bows simultaneously, striking vital areas with uncanny precision. The spider hesitated, disoriented, searching this way and that in pain and rage. Then Zula stepped to the edge of the hut and sang one, clear note that boomed like a thunderclap over beast, liquefying its internal organs with its impact. The spider flipped onto its back, its legs curled in, very much dead.
"Look like spider-surprise for dinner tonight!" Boris crowed.

________________________________________________________

When the caravan descended from Ovorikheer Pass, it entered the lands of the Osman Confederation surrounding Lake Buryiim. The town of Jaagin stood square in the Path of Aganhei, and so they stopped and rested again, taking on more supplies for the final push to the Wall of Heaven. They left the Osman lands behind, and spent another twelve days on the Path. Finally, they drew near the Altan Zuud, also known as the Last Pass, which would take them through the Wall of Heaven Mountains and down into the Tian Xia province of Hongal on the far side. However, as they approached the Last Pass, the temperature steadily dropped and ominous storm clouds began to dominate the southern horizon. The clouds raced overhead, moving swifter than the wind, and a fell, feminine mocking laughter echoed above, interspersed with peals of thunder. The mountain peaks ahead were swallowed up in a roiling blizzard as avalanches cascaded down the cliff faces to block the pass.

Ulf's face paled as he witnessed the disaster. He looked around at Sandru and Ameiko in dismay.
"We could try and make for the town of Ketskerlet," he said, "though it lies two-hundred miles to the east. From there we could cross the Gulf of Khorkii, or at least take shelter in the dwarven delves on this side of the mountains. I am not hopeful that we will make it before the storm catches us, however."
"Perhaps we could scout other passes through the mountains," Shalelu suggested.
Ulf shook his head vehemently. "There are no other passes that are traversable at this time of year," he said. "We cannot waste time searching in vain."
"Perhaps I can offer another option," Koya replied. "I have studied the history of Desna's worship in many cultures, past and present. I recall the account of a traveler from long ago who traversed the Crown of the World and spoke of the Uqtaal clans...tundra nomads who worshipped Desna as the Queen of the North Star, their guide and protector in the long arctic night. The Uqtaal believed that souls sought to follow the North Star even in death, and through long years, they excavated a subterranean necropolis within the caverns at the feet of the Wall of Heaven. Beyond the stony tombs of the fallen, they carved a passage, called the Path of Spirits, for the souls of the dead to make their way onto the High Ice to follow the North Star to the top of the world, where Desna would carry them home to the stars. This account was hundreds of years old, but the traveler claimed the necropolis was very real, and that he found the northern exit of their tunnel, as wide as a highway, flanked by twin stone statues of Desna. By using the landmarks that he recorded, I might be able to find this pathway."
The others looked from one to another before Ameiko finally sighed and spoke.
"I don't believe we have any better options," she said. "Koya, lead the way."

_________________________________________________

Over the next three hours the caravan raced the morozko west, parallel to the Wall of Heaven. At times, Koya would see a rock formation or some such that led her to believe they were on the right path. Finally, they came to a pair of rocky arms that jutted out from one rugged peak. Flanking the entrance created between them were a pair of statues...the Gates of Desna. One statue was broken off at the pedestal, but the other was intact and depicted a primitively carved woman with butterfly wings eternally facing north, with a roughly carved eight-pointed star graven into her forehead. A quarter mile beyond this, a cave mouth yawned at the head of the valley, with a carved stone lintel and doorposts etched with faded stars: the Path of Spirits.

"This is as far as I go," Skygni announced as the wagons reached the cave. "I agreed to guide you over the Crown, and I have held to my word. There is nothing over or under these mountains that concerns me."
"We appreciate your company and your assistance these past weeks," Sandru said, speaking for all of them. "Perhaps our paths will cross again."
The wolf sniffed doubtfully. "Perhaps," he replied, "but all of you two-legged types look the same to me. Not sure I'd remember you if I saw you again. Still, if that happens, I will try not to eat you."
And with that, he turned into the coming storm and loped off into the gathering darkness.

___________________________________________________

The path beyond the cave stretched away into darkness for miles, following natural faults, rifts and cave systems. The tunnel had many steep slopes and narrow passages that made navigating with the wagons difficult and slow going. After two days of traveling through the unending blackness, the natural passage gave onto a broad, worked tunnel. At this point, the Scions thought it prudent to begin ranging some distance ahead of the main body of the caravan, scouting for dangers. Zula cast a message spell to keep them in contact with the others. The floor and walls of the passageway were smoothed and decorated with faded cave paintings of starry skies, colorful auroras, and pale, headless shades marching along the path. Regularly spaced hewn stone pillars decorated with star carvings stood on either side of the tunnels. Atop each pillar sat a bleached human skull, painted with a red, demonic face, all facing north.
"Hmmm, ain't that interesting?" Phive mused, staring up at the skulls.
The gnome had been happy as a lark ever since the caravan had entered the deeps below the mountains, but now his face grew somber.
"What?" Mazael asked.
"That symbol painted on the skulls," Phive replied. "I recognize it from my studies. It represents a fella named Fumeiyoshi, a god from Tian lands. Not a nice one either. Lords over dishonor, envy, graves, undead and the like."
"No," Zula agreed. "That doesn't sound nice at all."

The tunnel opened into a wide cavern bisected by a deep crevasse with a carved bridge spanning it. At each end of the bridge, stone pillars supported a flat lintel carved with star-shaped niches set with red-painted human skulls. On either side of the cavern, a dusty portal of stone marked one face of an angular tower built into the rock with narrow slit windows overlooking the bridge.
"Boris, check the doors," Zula ordered, and the goblin moved to comply.
"I'll go with the boy," Phive offered. "I have some experience with reconnaissance."
He trotted after Boris, and the goblin looked sidelong at him, but just shrugged. They reached the nearest tower, and Boris scrutinized the door with a meticulous eye then pressed his ear against it.
"Nothing," he said after a moment.
"May I?" Phive asked, and Boris shrugged again then stepped aside.
The gnome pulled a pair of gloves from his belt and slipped them onto his hands, then pressed both palms against the iron door.
"Oh my," he said softly after a moment.
"What?" Boris asked. "What that you're doing?"
"The gloves let me look past things," Phive said, his voice a hushed whisper, "...for a short time."
"What you see?" Boris asked
"Nothin' good," the gnome said. "Three fellas standin' just on the other side...and ain't none of'em got heads."
The two of them slipped quickly to the opposite tower and repeated their surveillance.
"Ditto," Phive confirmed after using his gloves again. "Better tell the others."

_______________________________________________________

Haroldo stood in front of one tower, while Mazael stood at the other.
"On my mark," Zula called from the center of the cavern, where she stood with Piotr, Phive, and Lucian. Against her advice, Boris crouched behind Haroldo, his swords in his hands.
"Now!" the thundercaller cried.
Both warriors pulled open their doors simultaneously, and from behind them stepped the six headless horrors. Mazael hacked at the first one through his door, and when Suishen's flame touched the dried flesh of the corpse, it ignited like kindling.
"Noted," Piotr smiled as a bead of fire appeared between his fingers and he flicked it towards the trio coming for Boris and Haroldo.
The fireball exploded behind the undead, setting them all ablaze. Piotr laughed in triumph, but it was only then that he noticed that Haroldo and Boris had not moved. They seemed rooted to the spot, their eyes wide in abject terror.

Lucian saw it too. He knocked two arrows to his string at the same time and loosed. Both shafts pierced the heart of one of the flaming guardians as it moved towards Boris, and it collapsed to the floor, burning to ash. He pivoted and put down another one. The last one kept lumbering closer to Haroldo. Zula's voice exploded over it. It shuddered, but didn't stop. It reached the blood-rager and seized his neck in one gnarled hand.
"No!" Lucian cried, but it was too late.
The headless horror squeezed and twisted, and Haroldo's neck snapped audibly. He fell bonelessly to the floor.

Gnome-Brr Phive was moving before he even realized what he was doing. He rushed to Haroldo's side and leaned over the big man. Placing his face close to the fallen warrior's, he exhaled, his breath flowing into Haroldo. A moment later, the blood-rager coughed, gasped, and opened his eyes.

At that exact moment, Boris snapped out of the fear that had paralyzed him. He glanced around in confusion and saw Phive cradling Haroldo on one side, and a flaming, headless corpse looming over him on the other.
"Boris not know what going on here," he babbled, "and Boris not sure he want to know, but something here need stabbing!"
He gripped his blades, shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and then lunged for the walking corpse. He plunged both swords into it up to the hilt, and to his immense relief, it fell.

"You two sure are quite the heroes," Mazael yelled from across the cavern, "but I could use a little help over here!"
He hacked at one of his attackers as it slammed an arm that felt as if it were made of steel into his chest. Just as he was about to be overwhelmed, another fireball detonated behind the undead, engulfing one of the guardians completely. The other two didn't get two steps closer before Lucian dropped them both.

_________________________________________________

"Something's...wrong....," Haroldo croaked.
Phive had been able to heal the worst of his wounds, but the blood-rager was correct...something was indeed wrong. His skin was a sallow color, and his cheeks looked hollow. Sores had appeared on his flesh in scattered locations, and a foul smell emanated from them.
"Just like I thought" the gnome sighed. "Those headless fellas weren't no ordinary zombies. They was mummies, and our friend here has been infected...cursed, some folks might say...with their rot."
"Can you cure him?" Zula asked.
"Not today," Phive shook his head. "With the right prayers, maybe tomorrow."
"Then we wait," Mazael said.
"No...," Haroldo protested. "It's not safe here. The caravan is in danger. I can go on...for now."
"I'm afraid I have to agree," Zula nodded. "Sitting here won't do Haroldo any good, and it could leave us vulnerable to more attacks. We should move on."
"That may not be as easy as it sounds," Piotr said as he approached the group from where he'd been studying the bridge across the chasm. "There is some kind of invisible barrier blocking the bridge. Boris tried to bypass it but couldn't. Strangely enough, however, Helgarvarl made it across with no problem."
"Possibly his angelic nature," Zula observed.
"Maybe," Piotr shrugged, "but that doesn't help us. I may be able to suppress it temporarily, but we need to get the caravan up here and across quickly. I don't know how long it will stay down."

While Zula summoned the caravan, Boris and Phive investigated the two towers the mummies had been guarding. Inside each of them, a dark corridor led deeper within the rock, lined on both sides with open niches, within which lay funerary biers and a scattering of ancient grave goods. At the end of the hall was a small chamber containing three more biers. Pictographs of the dead rising from their graves to attack the living were carved and painted on the walls. Though the burial treasure looked to be of modest worth, Boris restrained himself from taking any, knowing he would catch no end of grief from the Desna worshippers among his companions. He sighed and resigned himself to better luck next time.

Piotr was indeed able to bring down the mystic barrier, and the caravan wagons passed safely across the bridge to the far side of the cavern. As Ameiko passed the sorcerer, she gave him a warm small and her hand caressed his cheek briefly. Piotr smiled in return, but someone else did not. Haroldo's eyes burned holes into the sorcerer's back, and he looked down at his slowly rotting flesh, his heart filling with rage.

____________________________________________________

The wide passage continued on the other side of the cavern for a short distance before opening into another area. A strange pillar, seeming almost a bare-branched tree, stood in the center of the arching cavern in the midst of a pool of still water. A faint violet radiance from beneath the pool lit the cavern, reflecting off the ceiling above like tiny stars. Beyond the stone tree, a pale light glinted from one wall of the cave, and on the far side, a smooth passage sloped upward.

Boris looked to Zula, and she nodded. The caravan held position as the little goblin began creeping stealthily around the perimeter of the room. He reached the point where he'd seen the glinting light, and found a gilded door engraved with a demonic, tusked skull face standing in the wall there. Much of the gilt on its outer surface had been scraped off, but the edges still gleamed in the flickering luminescence from the pool. Near the door, a withered corpse lay upon the floor. Boris gave it a wide berth as he continued around the room. He peered down the passage on the far side, and saw only darkness. However, from his current vantage he could see another, smaller corridor nearby. That one looked natural, and uneven, with several cliff-like shelves leading upwards. There was no way the caravan would be able to navigate that. The goblin completed his circuit and reported back to his companions all that he had observed.

Zula again suggested that the caravan hold back, and she and the rest of the Scions moved towards the gilded door. Once there, Phive used his enchanted gloves to peer through it. A short hallway lay beyond, opening into a small octagonal room illuminated by flickering firelight. Red demonic faces leered from the walls against a painted background of midnight blue. In the center of the room, seeming almost to swim in a sea of night, a bier of blue-painted stone bore a motionless skeleton, its face concealed beneath a golden mask.

Meanwhile, Boris sidled closer to the corpse on the floor, where something around its neck had caught his eye. A pair of silver goggles with ruby lenses hung there, and Boris reached for them. As his hand closed around them, the eyes of the corpse sprang open, and its mouth stretched in a wide rictus, emitting a head-splitting shriek. Boris grabbed his ears, rendered immobile from the pain. Behind him, Mazael and Haroldo were also bent double, their hands gripping the sides of their heads. The revenant climbed nimbly to its feet and seized Boris by the throat, lifting him bodily into the air. When three arrows from Lucian's bow struck its chest, its grip only tightened. Zula blasted the thing with her voice once...twice, and it staggered back, but still did not release the goblin. Piotr conjured a sphere of fire that rolled across the floor and set the creature's legs aflame, but only after four more of Lucian's arrows pierced it did it finally relent and sink back into oblivion, letting Boris fall heavily to the floor, gasping.

"Boris," Piotr snapped, "when will you learn to leave...,"
His words trailed off as a bone-numbing chill filled the air around him. He turned slowly to look behind him, and his eyes widened. A palpable darkness oozed from around the edges of the gilded door and slowly coalesced into a translucent, humanoid form wearing a golden mask. It reached out a hand and laid it upon Piotr's chest, and he felt his hear skip momentarily as the strength drained out of his body. Then he felt himself being grabbed from behind as Zula seized his shoulder and sang a brief tune. Instantly, he was whisked across the room, reappearing several dozen feet away from the shadow. Regaining his composure, he loosed a volley of magic missiles at the thing, force magic that he knew would affect even a spirit. Zula unleashed her thunder-call, and the creature recoiled. Mazael stepped towards it, but it plunged its shadowy-fist right through his stomach, and he grunted in pain as if his soul had been ripped from him. Lucian quickly stepped in front of him and fired four arrows into the horror. Though translucent, the magical arrows still pierced the shadow, and with a final moan of anguish, it dissipated into nothingness.

_______________________________________________________

The companions searched the tomb behind the gilded door and found a small trove of jewelry. The physical body of the dark priestess still remained upon the bier, and it was clad in armor that consisted of four polished steel plates harnessed together with leather shoulder straps. Two round plates protected the wearer's front and back, while two smaller, rectangular plates covered the sides of the torso. Piotr analyzed the magical dweomer he sensed on the armor, and realized that it was specifically enchanted to protect against the incorporeal undead. The corpse also had a sword laid across its chest, a two-handed blade crafted of silvery-gray steel, with nine golden rings threaded through its spine that glowed with mystic power. Streamers of blue and purple silk hung from the sword's pommel. Piotr determined that the weapon was also meant to be used against the undead, allowing the wielder to banish possessing spirits, and even to destroy a creature with one blow. He felt that, thought these items would surely prove of great value to the company, it did not bode well for what might await deeper within the necropolis.


22 Erastus, 4715 - Katiyana's Revenge

"The way I see it, we have two choices," Mazael said. "The main passage will accommodate the wagons, so that's our first option. That side passage is too rocky for the wagons, but if we don't at least check it out, we might be leaving enemies behind us, so option two."
"Boris volunteer to scout rocky road," the goblin raised his hand, "but he not want to go alone. Boris want little sniffle-snabble man to go with him."
"Svirneblin," Phive corrected.
"Whatever," Boris shrugged. "Little man good for keeping people alive, and also sneaky and quiet. He come with Boris."
Gnome-Brr Phive lifted his hands. "Fine by me. Just don't 'spect me to do no fightin' fer ya. If'n there's trouble, I'm high-tailin' it!"
"Boris be right behind you," the goblin grinned.

The two of them ducked into the uneven tunnel, following its twists and scrambling up its cliff-like shelves as it ran. They came to an intersection, and elected to take the smaller side-passage first. After a short distance, it opened onto a ledge that overlooked a cave below. The cave contained a den of matted furs, rough seats carved from the stone, and a few crude tools. Three creatures moved around the cave. They stood like men, yet were half again the height of most humans and covered with coats of thick white fur.
"White bear people," Boris whispered, nodding sagely.
He and the gnome retreated back to the main corridor and continued following its path. Shortly, it gave onto a large cavern with rough nests and piled furs scattered across it. Bones strewed amid the stalagmites gave mute testimony to past meals. Another eight of the white-furred creatures occupied the cave. Though smaller than the previous ones the pair had seen, they were still larger than even Haroldo.
"Boris see enough," the rogue said, and Phive didn't disagree.
Quickly and quietly, they made their way back to the caravan.

_____________________________________________________

"Sounds like yetis," Piotr said once Boris had described what they'd seen. "I've heard of them, and read some in bestiaries, but I've never actually seen one. Despite their reputation of being 'abominable,' they are actually not evil. More like primitive tribal hunter-gatherers."
"Then maybe they can be reasoned with," Lucian suggested. "Maybe we can make a truce with them and they can tell us what we can expect to find in the necropolis, or even offer us safe passage."
"It's worth a try," Piotr agreed. "We might take some of our food and trade goods with us as a peace offering."

Haroldo, his condition worsening, elected to stay back with the caravan, and Zula volunteered to remain with him to lend what assistance she could. Ulf Gormundr offered to accompany the companions, as he'd had dealings with yetis in the past. Ameiko also announced that she would come, despite Lucian's protests about her safety.
"I am more skilled in diplomatic negotiations than any of you," she pointed out. "After all, I have kept a tavern afloat for many years without it burning to the ground or becoming a haven for ruffians and vandals."
Her tone brooked no further discussion, and the small group set out.

They reached the Y-intersection, and halted. Lucian put his hands to his mouth, and called out in a strange tongue he named Aklo, which was the only language the yeti's understood.
"Hail yeti's of the necropolis! We come in peace for trade and safe passage! We mean you no harm!"
His overture was answered a moment later by the sound of snarling howls and heavy feet beating on the stone. Yetis swarmed into the passage from both sides, teeth bared and ravening.
"Please!" Lucian cried, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. "We have brought gifts for you! We are lost travelers simply trying to make our way through and out of your domain! We only want to know what dangers we face, and what is the safest route!"
One of the larger yetis stepped forward, a spear gripped in his large hands and pointed at Lucian's chest.
"You leave gift!" he growled. "You go back way you came, and we no kill you!"
"They are much more aggressive than normal for their kind," Ulf whispered aside to Lucian. "Tread lightly."
"Can you tell us what lies down the large hallway back there?" Lucian asked, nodding back over his shoulder the way they had come.
"Paths of the dead," the big yet snapped. "You go now!"
"Are there dangers there?" Lucian persisted.
"Don't know!" the yeti barked, becoming more angry. "We no go there! Only dead! Go!!"
Lucian nodded, his hands still up, and began walking backwards.
"We thank you," he said. "We will not trouble you further, and hope that you will afford us the same courtesy."
The companions retraced their steps, watching cautiously over their shoulders to make sure they weren't being followed.

________________________________________________________

With no other options left to them, the companions, followed by the caravan, began traveling the main corridor. Numerous small side passages branched off of it as it sloped upward to the west. Hundreds of burial niches had been carved into the rock walls of the catacombs. Against the advice of several of his friends, Boris darted in and out of the side passages as the wagon train trundled along, stating that he was just scouting for potential dangers.
"And when I hang you upside down by your feet," Mazael growled, "I better not see any Desnan jewelry fall out of your pockets!"

The passage continued to slope upward, flanked by more catacombs cut into the rock. On each wall of the passage, a huge red demonic skull face with short tusks was carved into the stone. Mazael, who'd been leading the way, grunted and stopped abruptly as his forward progress was stopped by an intangible barrier blocking off the entire corridor.
"Gods be damned!" he shouted. "Not another one of these!"
Piotr quickly moved up to analyze the situation, and then nodded his head grimly.
"It's just like the abjuration blocking the bridge," he stated. "Give me a moment to study it and I may be able to suppress it as well."

Meanwhile, as Boris nosed around another side passage, he came to an apparent dead-end, but noticed that there was actually a partially dug out hole in the wall. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to crawl through it. On the other side, he found himself in a sprawling cavern with a deep crevasse dominating it. Five yetis, two of the large ones and three of the smaller, prowled about the area. Carefully and quietly, he crept along one wall until he came to a small tunnel, and then followed it to another cave. This one was smaller, but looked to be another communal cavern, with eight of the smaller yetis lounging about. One one side, an opening seemed to lead out onto some sort of ledge. Stealthily, he made his way to it and peered over. He found himself looking out into a wide cavern that soared into darkness overhead. A deep crevasse plummeted directly below him, while on the opposite side a broad switchback road climbed to a distant tunnel mouth. In the center of the cavern, skull-topped columns surrounded an octagonal dais. Age-worn steps led to the top of the dais, where a stone seat rested between the tusks of a bull mastodon skull, a Tian-style banner draped over the top like a canopy. Seated upon the throne was a truly massive yeti. Standing next to him was one of the large, savage yetis, and when Boris looked to his right, he saw another ledge several dozen feet away. Another of the big yetis crouched there. Cautiously, he began retracing his steps.

_______________________________________________________

"Once again, it seems like our choices are limited," Piotr said after Boris had told his tale. "Let's just hope this yeti king is as reasonable as his people."
He stepped back and pushed up his sleeves, then began casting his spell. A moment later, there was a brief flash of light and a loud pop from the air in front of him.
"Done," he announced. "We should be able to pass now."

Sure enough, the way forward was clear, and the companions led the way once more, the wagons taking up position one-hundred feet behind. When they reached the wide cavern, it was just as Boris had described. Lucian stepped forward, prepared to negotiate with the yeti king for safe passage, but then the huge brute raised his head. His eyes were blood-red and filled with hatred. He raised one clawed hand over his head and suddenly there appeared a swirling black thunder cloud in the air above him.
"Look out!" Boris cried, as he caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye.
On a raised ledge above the entrance, one of the large yeti savages crouched, ready to leap. Boris managed to raise his bow and snap off one quick shot into the beast, but then his gaze met its eyes, and fear filled him, rooting him in place.

From the crevasse on the right side of the cavern came a cacophony of howling and snarling. Yetis began climbing out of it, a mixture of both savages and smaller ones.
"Ambush!" Lucian shouted.
He didn't waste arrows on the newcomers, but instead turned his attention towards the king. His aim was spot on, and four arrows bristled from the chest of the brute. Blood flowed freely down his white-furred chest, but he seemed to pay it little notice. More yetis clambered out of the crevasse, and the savage on the ledge above leaped to the floor, joined by another one that jumped from the very cave mouth where Boris had hidden himself earlier. Ulf Gormundr rushed to meet the oncoming horde, Mazael right behind him. Piotr opened a gaping pit beneath the feet of one beast just as it was preparing to leap at the warriors. It disappeared from sight momentarily, howling in anger, but shortly thereafter its taloned hands reappeared above the lip of the pit as it climbed its way back out.

Gnome-Brr Phive darted through the melee to Boris's side as one of the savage yetis loomed above the goblin. He placed a hand on Boris's shoulder and uttered a prayer. With a visible tremor, Boris snapped out of his torpor and looked around in dismay. The yetis were closing in on all sides. Ulf and Mazael were holding their own, giving as good as they got, but as Boris watched, one large specimen got past Ulf's defenses and rent terrible gouges in the ranger's flesh.
"'Scuse me boy," Phive said grimly. "Looks like I got some more work to do."
The gnome darted away again, slipping a small silver ring onto one finger and vanishing from view. A moment later, however, several of Ulf's wounds began to close.
"Boris liking that big-nose dwarf more and more all the time," the goblin grinned as he spun out of the way of an oncoming yeti and then buried his swords in its flank as it passed.

Piotr's face tightened as he saw still more yetis emerging from the crevasse. Nearby, Ameiko had unslung her shamisen and was playing a rousing battle-tune, inspiring her comrades to even more courageous feats. That brought a smile to the sorcerer's lips. The lady had guts, and wasn't too hard on the eyes either. Turning his attention back to melee, he saw that several of the yetis had massed together, led by the king who had leaped down from his throne.
"Thanks for assuming the formation," Piotr chuckled.
He summoned a small bead of fire between his fingers and flicked it into the center of the crowd, where it detonated with a spectacular, flaming ka-boom. Four yetis, including one of the big savages, were consumed by the fire, and the rest hooted in anguish from the searing burns to their heat-sensitive flesh. The yeti king, however, seemed completely unscathed.

The battle raged on, the companions beset by attackers on all sides. Foes dropped beneath the blades of Ulf and Mazael, as well as the arrows of Lucian and the Boris's wicked guerrilla strikes, yet still more came to take their places. Ameiko paused in her singing to loose a blistering invective upon a yeti that threatened Piotr, setting the creature ablaze with her magic-fueled tirade, and sending it screaming back into the crevasse.
"The leader!" Lucian cried out. "Focus on the leader!"
The others heard, and quickly adjusted their tactics. Ulf and Mazael waded through the horde until they reached the big chief, then began assaulting him from both flanks, while Lucian rained arrows into him. Whenever the wounds of any of the companions became too dire, a disembodied voice would begin praying nearby, and the injuries closed as quickly as they appeared. Finally, with a mighty swing, Ulf cleaved the chief's head from his shoulders, and a brief silence fell over the battlefield.

A white mist began to rise from the corpse of the yeti king, which quickly coalesced into a vaguely humanoid form. The transformation rapidly progressed until a coldly beautiful winged woman hovered above the body. There could be no doubt about her identity...it was Katiyana...or rather, her ghost!
"You cannot kill me, mortals!" she shrieked gleefully. "You sought to strike me down, but now I have become Katiyana the Eternal, the Avatar of the Hungry Storm, Handmaiden of Sithhud, and the Harrower of All Creation!!"
Her frigid laughter filled the cavern, and the air around her began to whirl and churn into a small cyclone of ice and snow. The remaining yetis cowered in fear, and then, in blind panic, rushed en masse back to the crevasse. Katiyana's cackle continued to grow as she lifted her hand to the swirling black cloud above her and called a sizzling bolt of lightning from it to strike down upon Mazael.
"I've got her!" Piotr shouted as he hurled a barrage of force missiles at the spirit, confident that particular energy would still be able to damage her incorporeal form. He was mistaken. The missiles bounced harmlessly away from her, and she turned her gaze upon the sorcerer, her intent murderous. Mazael rushed towards her, and she flung another electric blast at him. He grunted and stumbled, but did not stop his charge...at least not until he reached Katiyana and she thrust one outstretched hand completely through his chest. He felt agony seize him, and he crumpled to his knees, fighting just to stay conscious.
"You leave angry man alone!" Boris shouted as he leaped at the ghost witch.
His blades sliced at her ephemeral body, trailing wispy streaks of pale blood with them. Behind him, Lucian, unable to bring his bow to bear in the strong winds that buffeted around Katiyana, instead plucked one of the pearls from the White Peacock Crown and threw it at her. It exploded with a dull whumph, engulfing her in holy light. She cringed back momentarily, but then regained her composure, her smile rigid. She did not remove her hand from Mazael's chest, but instead thrust it further inside. Boris lunged at her again, hacking and slashing, though it felt like he was cutting nothing but air. Ulf joined him, though the ranger's blows seemed no more effective. Finally, Katiyana ripped her hand away from Mazael with a grin of triumph, and the war-priest fell heavily to the stone, his skin bone white. Boris howled in anguish and he and Ulf redoubled their efforts.
"I think we've all had just about enough out of you, little missy," a voice said from behind Katiyana.
She whirled about, fury etched into her face, only to find a diminutive gnome standing there. She snorted and chuckled, then raised her hand to swat the gnat. That was when Phive gripped the symbol of Nethys around his neck, and channeled his god's holy power into the ghost. With a scream that seemed to go on forever, Katiyana's form exploded into a thousand shards of ice. Gnome-Brr Phive moved quickly to Mazael's side, and leaned over him, breathing life back into his body. The war-priest opened his eyes.
"Not you again," he groaned.
"I believe that's a couple you owe me, fella," Phive laughed.


22 Arodus, 4715 - 1 Rova, 4715: The City At The Edge Of The World

With the yeti threat passed, and Katiyana (hopefully) banished from existence, the Desnan's in the group decided to set about reconsecrating the necropolis to their mistress. While they busied themselves with this (in his opinion) foolish task, Boris made his way up the switchback ramps on the far side of the throne room. When he reached the top, he found a wide tunnel which ended abruptly at a blank stone wall. He examined it closely, but could find no sign of a hidden exit, yet something about the rock looked strange to him. He went back to the camp to find Gnome-Brr Phive.
"You come look at this," he beckoned to the gnome. "Your big nose used to sniffing around in caves and dirt."
"Thanks...ah guess," Phive sniffed.
When he reached the wall with Boris, however, his eyes immediately picked out what the goblin was talking about. The stone was much too smooth to be natural, and there was a clear demarcation on both sides where the true stone began.
"This ain't right," he said as he scratched his chin.
He then slipped on his gloves and pressed his palms to the wall.
"Yep," he nodded, "jest like ah thought. This here's a conjured wall. Ain't no more'n six er eight inches thick. Tunnel picks up on t'other side."

Once the consecration was complete, Spivey and Koya put their skills together to both remove the curse of mummy rot from Haroldo, and then cure the disease itself. The warrior was grateful, though it would still take several days to heal the damage already wrought by the foul infection.

Boris and Phive returned to the group and told them of their discovery. This was a relief to Sandru, but before they departed, Zula wanted to approach the yetis once more. It seemed to her that, since their chief was dead, and had been possessed, they might be more amenable to a parley. Boris was very unhappy about this, feeling that the yeti's would be of more use in his cook pot. Still, reason won out, and the companions retraced their path to the yeti caves. The yetis approached cautiously when they became aware of the intruders, fear visible in their eyes.
"We have not come to harm you," Zula said, her tongues spell allowing her to speak their language. "We know that you were mislead by your chieftain, and we do not hold you responsible. We only seek information, and an understanding."
One of the larger yetis stepped forward.
"Speak words, human," he grumbled. "We hear you."
Zula nodded. "Can you tell us what transpired here? How did your king come under the thrall of the snow witch?"
"We not know Grumburg controlled by witch," the yet said. "Days ago, he say to us he have vision. Strangers coming to Paths of the Dead. Coming to hurt and steal from us. He say we kill any strangers we see."
"I see," Zula replied. "That was approximately the time our path across the mountains was barred by a malevolent storm, and we were forced to journey through your domain to reach our goal. We think that it was the snow witch who controlled the storm, and when she could not stop us with it, she came here and used your chief to try and undo us. The threat is past, but we are sorry for the loss of your leader and your people."
The yeti grunted noncommittally.
"Do you know the history of these halls?" Zula asked.
The yeti shrugged. "We here for many seasons. Before us, we not know. All dead now. We see skulls and burial places."
"This place is a necropolis," Zula explained, "a place of rest for worshipers of the goddess Desna, patron of travelers. However, it seems that some time in the past, it became corrupted by followers of an evil god. We have reconsecrated it in Desna's name, but we worry for its sanctity once we are gone. We propose an alliance with your people. If you agree to become guardians against further evil incursion here, not only will it keep your people safe, but we will work to establish a trade path through here, only for followers of Desna. This will bring prosperity to your people."
The big yeti considered her words for several long moments, looking to his tribe.
"We hear your words," he said, "and there wisdom in them. We do what you ask, and our people become friends."
Zula shook his massive paw when he extended it towards her.

______________________________________________________

It took little effort to smash through the relatively thin rock wall that Boris and Phive had discovered, and then the caravan was on the move once more. A half-mile later, the tunnel ended, opening once more into the outside world, and giving the companions there first view of Tian Xia.

"Hongal," Ulf announced, gesturing towards the barren, wind-blown plains which lay before them. "It is the home of the horse-lords. Most of its people are nomadic, and there are only two settlements in the entire province. It is for the largest of these, Ordu-Aganhei, that we are bound. It lies about two days travel south, by my estimate. I caution you all to stay on the road. The Hongali value trade, and so generally do not harass caravans, but any foreigners caught off the Spirit Road are considered fair game."

In the two days that passed, they saw little other signs of life. The plains were desolate, although they did catch a glimpse of a large band of riders in the distance on one occasion. Finally, at mid-day of their second day out, the walls of Ordu-Aganhei came into view. Compared to Kalsgaard, it was not a large city, but it was by far the largest settled area the companions had seen in weeks, and their hearts were lifted. The walls were made of timber, and its single gate was guarded by decorated tower with a single, tall reinforced iron door. Several caravansaries lay outside the walls, but this time of the year none were occupied. As the wagons approached the gate tower, a dozen guards or more lined up across the road before them. One of them, a commander, stepped forward and held up one hand.
"Where are you coming from, and what is your business here?" he asked sternly, speaking Tien.
"Avistan," Ulf answered in the same language. "We have come across the Crown of the World along the Path of Aganhei. We are bound for Minkai."
The commander looked skeptical.
"This is not the season for travel," he snapped. "What is your cargo?"
"Trade goods from the west," Ulf shrugged. "Nothing more."
The commander's eyes narrowed, and he motioned to his men. They spread out along the caravan and began unceremoniously throwing back tarps and opening crates. The commander walked over to the companions and appraised each of them in turn.
"Where did you steal that from?" he asked Mazael, pointing towards Suishen.
The war-priest's jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed.
"Easy," Sandru said in Varisian. "We're guests here, and we don't want to start off on the wrong foot."
"I'll start with his feet if he looks crossways at me again," Mazael growled.
"He doesn't speak your language," Ulf explained to the commander. "The sword was purchased from a collector in Kalsgaard."
"Barbarians," the commander sniffed.
His soldiers finished their inspection of the wagons, having dumped several items into the dirt. The commander kicked at them absently, then turned back towards Ulf.
"You have nothing of value to us...," he began
"Enough!" a voice called from the tower.
All eyes turned in that direction, where a well-dressed man had appeared from within the city. He drew up before the companions, and then prostrated himself on the ground at their feet.
"Honored guests!" he said. "Welcome, welcome, and three welcomes more! Please ignore these slithering worms beneath your feet...I assure you they shall be punished for their insolence. Prince Batsaikhar, golden orb of sunlight at the black portal of barbarism, bids you welcome to Ordu-Aganhei, the City at the Edge of the World. My most munificent lord invites his honored guests to his humble palace to rest, dine, partake in polite conversation, and perhaps indulge in some pleasure. The Golden One says he hopes you will honor him with you clever speech from strange lands, a speech that he of all men in Hongal has mastered. He is eager to hear of your journey across the Crown of the World in this most difficult time of travel."
Ulf looked to the others, and Ameiko nodded subtly.
"We would be honored," the guide said.
"Excellent!" the man exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I am Chua, royal advisor to Prince Batsaikhar of Ordu-Aganhei. I have a small token, if you will permit me."
He then drew a bouquet of black roses from his robes and handed one to Ameiko, Shalelu, Koya, Spivey, and Zula.
"There is no fire like the fire in the souls of the women of far lands," he recited. "Beauty is the wisdom of women, and wisdom is the beauty of men."
He bowed low again, and then turned back towards the gate, motioning for them to be thrown wide.
"This should be interesting," Zula smirked at her sisters.

____________________________________________________

As the companions passed through the gate house and entered the city proper, they couldn't help but notice all the severed heads that sat atop spikes on the timber walls.
"Who were they?" Zula asked Chua.
The advisor glanced up, then smiled broadly and waved absently.
"Just bandits," he laughed. "Foolish enough to prey on the Path of Aganhei. Do not concern yourself with them."
Zula was not comforted.

The city's layout was confusing, with narrow, winding streets. Buildings were timber-framed, and had high, gabled roofs and ornate, decorated eaves. A large, park-like garden surrounded a lake in the center of the city, and it was flanked on one side by the Palace of the Prince. On the other side stood a large temple of Abadar, known in Tian Xia as the God of Walls and Ditches. Paper lanterns lit the streets as evening fell, and the avenues were immaculately clean. They were also well-patrolled, with squads of armed and armored soldiers visible at all times. Prayer flags of all colors danced in the wind from every gable and rooftop, and everywhere the companions turned, a shop was selling something and the heady scent of incense mingled with the smell of unfamiliar cooked foods. Locals came out of their shops as the strangers passed, bowing and smiling politely. Occasionally, one brave soul would step out to touch a strand of blonde hair from Zula, Shalelu or Spivey.

They reached the enormous wooden palace, and Chua escorted them past countless guards and groveling slaves to the central courtyard. It was a vast chamber, nearly 100 yards across, built around a steaming lake. Orchids grew in gardens overlooking the lake, while colorful herons swooped through the air, all beneath a ceiling hidden by prayer flags. Upon a huge bed surrounded by colorful silks, painted screens, and beautiful white-painted women, sat an prodigiously-sized man barely dressed in voluminous robes. Immediately behind him stood a tall figure in full o-yori armor, carrying a huge drawn sword. Prince Batsaikhar beamed broadly as his guests were escorted before him, and rose ponderously to his feet.
"Be welcome, friends!" he cried in accented, though fluent Common. "I have heard of your coming, and I would have you regale me with tales of your travels, and your reasons for braving the perils of the Crown of the World! Food will be brought, and libations will be drunk! Welcome!"
Zula stepped forward, and bowed low to the Prince. His eyes twinkled as he drank in her beauty. She made the introductions of her companions, then told the basics of the caravan's tale: how they had left Varisia, bound for the far east, lured by tales of exotic riches and adventure; how they'd run afoul of bandits in Kalsgaard, and how Zula came to join them; of their trek across the Crown of the World, and the foul witch who controlled the morozkos; and finally of their perilous flight through the necropolis beneath the Walls of Heaven, where they met and defeated the winter witch one last time. She omitted any mention of Ameiko's heritage, or their true reasons for journeying to Minkai.
"Delightful!" Batsaikhar announced, clapping his hands when she'd completed her story. "You all must consent to be my royal guests! And we shall hold the Five Feasts of Hongal in your honor, starting tonight!"
The companions accepted gratefully, and then Chua led them to their rooms.

_________________________________________________

Their accommodations were extraordinary, and servants waited on them hand and foot, accompanying them everywhere. Though the Prince had indicated that both the palace and the city were theirs to explore, the first of the Five Feasts was scheduled to begin, shortly, and so they had little time.
"What can you tell me of these feasts?" Zula asked one of her attendants.
"Oh, they are fabulous, my Lady," the little man grinned, bowing and scraping. "Tonight will be the Feast of Three, highlighting the Three Games of Hongal: mounted archery, bareback horse racing, and wrestling. Tomorrow will be the Feast of the Ancients, were stories of folklore will be brought to life. Next is the Feast of Fire, which will feature great feats of daring with flame! After that is the Feast of Honored Guests, where you and your companions will entertain us with delicacies and performances from your homelands. Finally, the Feast of Dragons, where the whole city will celebrate, and there will be dragon parades and fireworks! Delightful!"

When it was time for the festivities to begin, the companions were escorted back to the throne room, and Batsaikhar requested specifically that Zula be seated beside him. As they approached the royal table, the heroes noticed that they were not the only guests present. At another long table sat a group of five men. Though one was Tien, the other four were very obviously foreigners. Two of them were human, but there was an elf among them, as well as an orc half-blood.
"Who are they?" Piotr asked Chua.
"Ah, yes!" the advisor smiled. "A thousand pardons! I neglected to mention our other visitors. They are the most recent champions of the Ruby Phoenix Tournament. Have you heard of it?"
They had not.
"It is only held once a decade," Chua explained, "and teams come from around Tian Xia, and even from your lands to compete, for the team that emerges victorious is allowed into a vast vault to have their pick of unthinkable wealth!"

The food that was served during the feast was, to say the least...interesting: spicy duck heads; ox forehead; turtle casserole; pigeon brains; fried chicken feet; and tiger, dragon and phoenix soup (made with cat, snake and chicken meat). Even Boris was speechless. During the meal, the Prince's royal guards performed an exhibition of the Three Games of Hongal, which was amazing to behold. After the demonstration, Batsaikhar stood and addressed his guests.
"My friends!" he announced. "You have seen the skill of my guards, and now I would humbly ask you to demonstrate your own prowess at the Three Games. We would be honored, wouldn't we my people?"
The gathered spectators cheered and applauded loudly. The companions looked at one another skeptically.
"Boris know about horses," the goblin said, standing up and raising his hand. "Boris also good with bow. Boris show how it done in Varisia."
For their part, the champions of the Ruby Phoenix nominated the big half-orc, Graun Quor.

A smaller horse was brought for Boris, and the goblin did an admirable job of guiding the animal with his knees while he used his hands to hold his bow. He spurred the horse up to speed, and as it passed the target, Boris turned in the saddle, drew his string, and loosed. The shot went wide, missing the bullseye by a large margin. The crowd sighed in disappointment. When it was Graun Quor's turn, he chose a great brute of a mount, and handled it like a professional. As he galloped past the target, his bow sang and the arrow sank to its fletchings in the exact center of the bullseye. Boris scowled, then turned back to his horse. He ran to leap onto its bare back, as he'd seen the Hongali riders do, and failed miserably. Red-faced, he clambered painstakingly on top, then dug his heels into its flanks. It almost threw him as it reared up, and then raced forward towards a series of obstacles. It was obvious to all watching that the goblin was not in control of the horse. It ran around, or stumbled over most of the hurdles, and as it leaped the final one, Boris went sailing over its head to land sprawling on the ground. The crowd laughed uproariously. The only saving grace was that Graun Quor fared no better.
"Not fair!" Boris protested. "Boris have inferior horse!"
Batsaikhar smiled and nodded.
"Of course, of course!" he agreed. "Izume!"
His tall bodyguard stepped forward.
"Remove this worthless beast from my sight!"
The bodyguard bowed, raised the massive great-sword, and then hewed the horse's head from its shoulders in one blow. Boris just stood there, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

The final competition of the night was wrestling. For this task, Haroldo volunteered to take on the Prince's champion, a burly man named Huk. It was not much of challenge. The Tien man grappled the blood-rager quickly, but Haroldo reversed the hold effortlessly, then pinned the man's arms to his side with a bear-hug from which he could not escape. It was over in less than a minute. Graun Quor again volunteered for his team, but the half-orc must have been fatigued from his previous efforts, or else Huk was so angered at his previous humiliation that he redoubled his exertions, for within the same period of time, the Hongali champion had the Ruby Phoenix champion flat on his back. Afterwards, the feast broke up, and the companions filed out with the other guests. Just before she left the room, Zula happened to glance back over her shoulder and saw Huk standing before the Prince, his head bowed. Batsaikhar's face was livid, and he was obviously shouting at the man, though she could not make out his words. The last thing she saw before the crowd swept her from the chamber was the bodyguard Izume seize Huk by one arm and drag him bodily from the Prince's presence.

________________________________________________

The following morning, as the sun rose, Chua came to Zula's chambers to inform her that the Prince requested the honor of her presence. She accompanied him to the royal chambers, where a great feast was laid out for breakfast. Batsaikhar greeted her warmly, and asked he to tell him more stories of her homeland. He listened intently for well over an hour as she spoke of her native people, the Shoanti. Afterwards, he kissed her hand and offered her another black rose, then dismissed her, promising he would see her soon at the second of the Five Feasts.

The companions spent the remainder of the day exploring the city, finding all of the shops and restaurants open and welcoming. They returned in time for the second feast, the Feast of the Ancients. The food offerings were just as exotic and bizarre as the previous evening, consisting of steamed Hongali stone frogs, goose stomach, goat's feet tendons in wheat noodles, fish lips with celery, solidified duck blood, and drunken shrimp (a delicacy in which live shrimp were dipped in alcohol before pinching off their heads and eating them). After the meal, a group of performers put on a show called, "Why the Marmot Doesn't Have Thumbs," an ancient Hongali folk tale performed with pi ying xi, a shadow puppet theater using leather puppets, accompanied by throat singing and music on the morin khuur, or horsehead fiddle, a traditional Hongali stringed instrument. When the performance was finished, Prince Batsaikhar stood once more.
"And now, we would like to hear a tale from your homeland, my guests!" he proclaimed. "And we would have you tell it to us with pi ying xi!"
The crowd laughed, amused at the idea of the foreigners trying to use the complicated puppets. Still, Boris, Zula and Ameiko rose to the occasion. Boris deftly handled the puppets, though the story he acted out really didn't follow along with Zula's tale of their caravan's journey across the Crown of the World. Ameiko's accompaniment on her shamisen was hauntingly beautiful, and brought many of the spectators to tears. When the Ruby Phoenix champions tried their hands at the puppets, however, the result was totally the opposite. It was obvious that none of them had any real skill in the arts, and in the end they simply gave up and walked off the stage. Once more, as the feast broke up, Zula took note that Batsaikhar again took umbrage with his performers, and had them taken away by armed guards.

__________________________________________________

The third night was the Feast of Fire, and the fare included thousand-year-old eggs (duck eggs coated with lime, ashes, and mud and then soaked in horse urine for 100 days), cow's lung soaked in chili sauce, pig's face (made by pouring hot tar on a pig's head to remove the hair but leaving the skin intact), snake venom soup, deep fried bee larvae, and duck's feet marinated in blood. The entertainment was called "The Taming of the Kirin," which was a dazzlingly dangerous display of fire breathing and swordplay while dancing on hot coals. Batsaikhar once more asked his guests to try their own skills at the demonstration, and Zula took up the challenge. She danced nimbly and exotically across the coals, all while performing acrobatic feats that didn't seem humanly possible. She finished with a booming blast of her thundercall accompanied by a bolt of lightning from the ceiling, leaving all those assembled gasping in amazement. The Prince was on his feet applauding and cheering the loudest. As for the Ruby Phoenix team, they also acquitted themselves quite well, largely due to the skills of the priest, Aleksion Coric, a worshipper of the Purifying Flame. Though Batsaikhar seemed to enjoy all of the performances, his behavior of the two previous nights was repeated, when he had his own actors and acrobats dragged away as the crowd departed.

_____________________________________________________

The following morning, Zula was again summoned to Batsaikhar's chambers. This time, however, though the same sumptuous breakfast was laid out, there were no attendants present. She glanced around the room surreptitiously, noting where the exits are. As they sat and ate and talked, the Prince reached out a hand to touch her hair.
"Did you know that my people consider golden hair to be good luck?" he asked, smiling.
"I had wondered," Zula nodded. "People seemed to like touching it when I'm in town."
"Yes," Batsaikhar continued. "To simply touch it, is to bring good luck for a day. Kissing a person with it, however, will bring luck for an entire year!"
Zula smiled politely, but said nothing.
"It has been a pleasure to have your company these past few days," the Prince said after a moment. "It is a pleasure I would like very much to continue."
He reached down beside his chair and picked up a small, ornately-carved wooden box, and placed it on the table before Zula. Then, with some difficulty, he lowered his great girth down onto one knee.
"Lady Zula," he grinned. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my bride? My home, my city, my kingdom would all be yours! As a show of my good faith, I present to you this...,"
He opened the box, revealing a fabulously large, flawless red gemstone.
"The Ruby of Hongal."
Zula looked down at her hands, then sighed.
"My Prince," she began, meeting his gaze again, "you flatter me, but I have obligations. I have committed myself to my companions until the end of their journey."
"I have yet to meet the caravan master who would not part with anything nor anyone, for the right price," Batsaikhar laughed. "I will make your Master Sandru an offer he can't refuse."
Zula smile tightly. "It is not simply a matter of money," she said. "It is about my honor. I have sworn an oath, and cannot forsake it so easily. Please understand that I hold you in the highest regard, but in this, I cannot waver."
The Prince's smile remained fixed on his face, but all trace of humor left his eyes. He released her hand and hoisted himself back to his feet, towering over her.
"I see," he said. "I trust you will enjoy the hospitality of my home for the remaining duration of your stay."
He turned away and clapped his hands, at which point Chua bustled into the room.
"Come, my lady," the advisor said quietly, escorting Zula from the royal chambers.
Outside the doors, she paused and drew a dagger from her belt. Chua's eyes grew wide for a moment, but she simply lifted it and sliced a lock of her hair.
"Please give this to the Prince for me," she said, and then made her way back to her quarters.

______________________________________________________

Boris spent much of the day with the royal chefs, advising and instructing them in the finer points of Avistani cuisine, at least as he saw it. When evening came, and the time for the Feast of the Honored Visitors arrived, the goblin was well-pleased with his efforts. He was disappointed, however, to see that Prince Batsaikhar was not in attendance. Chua apologized to the assembly, stating that the Prince was not feeling well, but wished for all to continue the celebration. Zula took this news with a feeling of disquiet. That feeling turned to dread when, while eating her meal, she noticed something mixed in with the food...a lock of golden hair...

The guests were also expected to provide entertainment for the courtiers that evening, and Zula performed marvelously with her vocal and dancing skills. Boris also impressed with his feats of acrobatics and archery. At one point during the festivities, Aleksion Coric, leader of the Ruby Phoenix champions, approached their table.
"It is always a pleasure to meet fellow westerners in this part of the world," he said, bowing slightly. "I'm sorry we have not had more time to become acquainted during you stay. Tell me, do you find the Prince's absence tonight odd?"
Zula looked at him appraisingly, before answering.
"I do," she said, "but I'm not familiar with the ways of the Hongali people. You have spent more time among them. What is your impression?"
The priest shrugged.
"It is difficult to say with these folk," he smiled. "They have such odd customs, and are very concerned with the abstract concept of honor. They can be happy as clams one minute, and deeply offended the next, all because you forgot to wipe your feet, or some such. I think we should be cautious, and perhaps look out for one another. If you take note of anything strange, you will keep us informed, yes?"
Zula nodded briefly.
"As I am sure you will return the favor," she replied.

Later, after the companions returned to their quarters, Zula gathered them all together and told them of what had transpired between her and the Prince.
"Boris not see problem," the goblin shrugged. "Boris already Prince of underwater kingdom. Now Zula be princess, and we both be high and mighty!"
"I think we need to leave...tonight," Zula said, ignoring the goblin. "I don't think we are welcome nor safe here any longer."
"Admittedly, I did not grow up here," Ameiko replied, "but my father taught me many things about the culture of my people. Rudeness is anathema to them, and for a host to let harm befall guests beneath his roof would be the height of rudeness. I think that as long as the Prince still considers us his guest, we are safe. The last of the Feasts is tomorrow. After that, we will be on our way, at which point, I think, we shall have to be much more cautious."

_______________________________________________________

The last day of the Five Feasts of Hongal was the Feast of the Dragon, an evening of celebration that took place across the city. Prince Batsaikhar was not seen outside the palace, but this was not unexpected. Instructions were issued for the local merchants to open up their warehouses and show the finest wares of Tian Xia at a special market held on the shores of the steaming lake in the middle of the city. In addition to the normal street food found in Ordu-Aganhei, horse-hoof gruel, "household deer" (fried rat), smells like fish pork (pork cooked with wood ear mushrooms and green hot peppers), skewered roasted sparrows, snakehead soup, and live scorpions doused in potent liquor were all available throughout the Feast. Hundreds of brightly colored dragon costumes were paraded through the streets, accompanied by the staccato explosions of paper candles. The festivities were set to conclude at midnight with an incredible fireworks display over the palace walls, with hundreds of Desnan candles, skyrockets, and starfountains turning night into day.

As the companions made their way among the stalls of the crowded market, a large golden dragon costume cavorted around them, while two men walked behind it beating heavy drums. As the dragon circled about, the heavy costume was suddenly thrown aside, revealing eight black-clad figures holding gleaming wakizashis...ninja!
The heroes quickly drew their own weapons as the assassins closed in. Sandru and Boris stood back-to-back, waiting for the inevitable rush. Suddenly, as the crowd of civilians parted around the melee, a peasant woman leaped out of the throng. As she came, she drew a pair of wicked-looking kukri from beneath her shirt and slashed at the hamstring of one of the ninja. The other assassins turned to glance towards the newcomer, and as they did so, Shalelu began cutting loose with her bow, sending arrows into the distracted ninja. Haroldo rushed towards a pair of them as they tried to somersault past him, slashing at both of them when they passed. Then the ninja were among the companions. One cut Mazael, and he felt the burn of poison in the wound. Another stabbed Shalelu as she tried to stumble clear enough to bring her bow to bear, while a third opened a wide gash across Sandru's back. One other raced towards the strange woman who'd joined the fray and began hacking viciously at her, forcing her to give ground.

Zula quickly assessed the situation, then darted behind Shalelu, grabbed the ranger's arm, spoke a word, then the two of them vanished in a flash of light, only to reappear a moment later over 50 feet away. The ninja who'd been menacing Shalelu were momentarily taken aback, and Haroldo took the opening and charged between them, cutting them both down with two savage blows. Boris rolled between the blood-rager's legs and came up onto his feet while simultaneously thrusting one of his swords through the leg of another ninja.

Sandru was cut off. Ninjas had managed to surround him on all sides, and his closest ally was the Tien woman. He feinted, slashing at the nearest foe, then somersaulted away, trying to get clear. The peasant woman followed suit, dodging nimbly away as well. However, once she had gained a little free space, she thrust her hands forward. From out of thin air, a giant disembodied hand appeared between her and an oncoming assassin. It then rushed forward and shoved the ninja, driving him back towards the Scions. Still, there were too many enemies. Two of them raced after Sandru, flanking him, then struck simultaneously. Their blades were terribly precise, and they cut the caravan master down in a heartbeat. The Tien woman gasped in dismay, but then more ninjas were upon here as well, and though she fought them skillfully, she was quickly overwhelmed.

The companions fought on like machines. Haroldo took a vicious blow from behind, but the ninja paid for it with his own life as the blood-rager's backswing decapitated him. Mazael took down another, while Zula's thundercall struck another instantly dead, while stunning a second. For his part, Gnome-Brr Phive scrambled across the battlefield invisibly, thanks to his ring, until he reached Sandru. He leaned over the fallen caravan master and breathed life back into him. He quickly moved on as Sandru's eyes fluttered open. When he reached the Tien woman, he saw that she still lived, but only barely. He laid hands upon her and channeled healing energy into her, and she too breathed in deeply as she regained consciousness.

Piotr gestured towards an approaching ninja, and immediately the man burst into uncontrollable laughter, falling to the ground and rolling about like a fool. Boris slashed at another, and though his cut was shallow, he'd coated his blade with drow poison that morning, and the ninja's eyes rolled back into his head as he lapsed into a deep slumber. Shalelu picked off the two that were still reeling from Zula's vocal assault, while Mazael finished off another who'd managed to sneak up behind the thundercaller. Boris quickly tied up the ninja he'd poisoned, then noticed that Sandru had regained his feet. He stood over the laughing assassin, who happened to be the one who'd dealt him a killing blow. With no hesitation, the caravan master drew his scimitar across the man's throat, then watched as his life's blood drained out on the cobbles.

________________________________________________________

"My name is Miyaro," the Tien woman said, introducing herself, "and I thank you for my life."
"It is we who should be thanking you," Ameiko said. "Your timely intervention turned the tide."
The woman bowed.
"I guess this answers the question of whether or not the Prince means us harm," Zula smirked, looking around at the dead ninjas.
"No," Miyaro shook her head. "This is not the doing of the Prince, though he is a man known for his cruel justice. This is the work of the oni of the Five Storms."
The eyes of the companions widened in shock.
"Yes, I know who you are, and why you are here," Miyaro smiled slightly. My masters have sent me to find you and offer you my assistance. The Five Storms control much of Minkai, as well as the Spirit Road that leads between there and Hongal. You will not be safe traveling that way, but there is another path. The Forest of Spirits is thought to be haunted by all of Tian Xia, and they are not entirely wrong, but I know its ways, and it is there that my masters await you. Will you accept my help?"
"It would seem that we have few alternatives," Ameiko said. "I do not know that we can count on the hospitality of the Prince much longer."
"That is true," Miyaro agreed. "Though I do not think he would cause you harm, he knows of the power of Minkai and would not wish to bring their ire down upon him."
"And ninja no talk," Boris grumbled.
The goblin had been busy trying to interrogate his captive, only to discover that the man's tongue had been cut out.
"It doesn't matter," Zula said. "I think we know all that we need to for now."

___________________________________________________

The following morning, it was made very clear to the companions that they were no longer welcome in Ordu-Aganhei. All of the shops were closed to them, and Chua appeared first thing bearing one final gift from the Prince: a tooled, gold filigreed riding saddle for each of the companions, along with a famed Hongali horse. The message was clear. They rode out of the city without ceremony and rejoined the caravan outside the walls. Miyaro was there waiting for them as well. Ulf Gormundr rode up to the companions as they drew close.
"My friends," he said grimly. "I am afraid this is where we part ways. My job was to see you across the Crown of the World safely, and that I have done to the best of my ability. I am of little use to you as a guide from this point on. I will return to the Wall of Heaven, but there I may stay. I may try and assist our new yeti friends as they open the trade route through the necropolis. I think we shall meet again."

They said their goodbyes, and then the Varisian caravan resumed its journey once more. However, even before they were out of sight of the city walls they saw a group of riders approaching from that direction. As they drew closer, it became obvious who they were: the Ruby Phoenix champions.
"Well met, friends," Aleksion called as they drew up. "It seems we are not the only ones no longer welcome in the Princes's lands. "Since our roads lie together, what say we travel together for a time?"
"I think you are mistaken," Zula said, tight-lipped. She didn't trust the man. "We are bound for the far south."
"Ah," the priest nodded. "I thought I understood you to be bound for Minkai."
"You are mistaken," Zula said.
"My apologies," Aleksion nodded. "Well met, then. Good luck upon your road. Perhaps our paths will cross again some day."
With that, he and his companions turned their mounts aside and disappeared down the Spirit Road.


1 Rova, 4715 - 6 Rova, 4715: From The Ashes

Camp again.

The caravan was five days out of Ordu-Aganhei, and still five days from the Forest of Spirits. Haroldo and Lucian had volunteered to ride a day or so behind the main group to look for any signs of pursuit. So far there had been none. Each night, Zula erected her tiny hut and most of the drivers and cooks would sleep inside, along with any of the companions who were not on guard duty. As it so happened, on this particular night, it was Gnome-Brr Phive and Miyaro who had the second watch from midnight to 2 am.

The svirneblin's eyes were made for darkness, and so it was he that first saw movement in the starlit darkness of the savannah. He spied a lone figure walking slowly towards the encampment, still several dozen yards away. No...not walking exactly...at least not on the ground. The figure's feet actually walked above the tall grass of the plain. Phive quickly glanced around, and saw another individual approaching from the opposite side of the camp. There was no doubt about it...that one was definitely flying!
"Psst," he hissed, elbowing the Tien woman in the ribs.
Miyaro grunted. "What is it?"
"We got company," he whispered. "Probably ought ta wake the others."
Miyaro nodded, cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Intruders!!"

Piotr lurched to his feet from where he'd been sitting inside the hut, mediating. Nearby, Zula roused herself as well, and then one by one, the others began to awaken.
"You hear that?" Mazael asked, his voice still slurred from sleep.
"What?" Boris asked.
"Sounds like wind, a lot of it," the war-priest said. "Coming this way."
Piotr peered out into the darkness beyond the walls of the hut and saw the stranger walking on air and drawing ever closer.
"Halt and identify yourself!" he called. "You will only receive one warning!"
There was no response. The stranger just came inexorably on.
"Time's up!" the sorcerer shouted, then he pulled back the sleeves of his robes and hurled a bead of fire out into the darkness.
The fireball exploded with brilliant light, setting the dry grass ablaze around the trespasser, but as the initial blast faded, he simply walked out of it, unmarked and unfazed.
"Hmmm," Zula said, her eyes on the flying individual coming from the direction. "I think I recognize this one. Unless I miss my guess, it's Tyrek Glodfer, the Ruby Phoenix clan's resident wizard. Why am I not surprised?"
The shoanti woman drew in a breath, focused, then loosed her thundercall upon the necromancer. He paused in mid-flight, reeling from the concussion.

"On behalf of our employers, I would like to offer you our gratitude," called the air-walking individual. With the flames behind and around him now illuminating his features, it became obvious that he was none-other-than Aleksion Coric. "If not for your repeated opening of Amatatsu Seal's warding box to return your fallen comrades from the dead, we might never have found you."
"That's not entirely true," came a booming voice from the north side of the camp.
The companions spun that direction and saw a giant form lumbering out of the darkness. It's skin was pale white, and its hair and beard ice-blue. A great-sword of solid ice was gripped in its massive hands.
"After all, it was I Liao Kuo, who found them by mere happenstance at the North Pole," the frost giant's voice changed in pitch and timber, to that of an old woman speaking with a Tien accent. "Or did you think you had really seen the last of me?" came the voice of the crone who had pretended to be Miriya in the ruins of the forbidden spires.
The giant/oni stretched out on arm and a vortex of frost and ice blasted forward, enveloping the entirety of the hut. As was his habit, Mazael had asked Suishen to provide protection from extreme cold for the Scions, but Spivey, Shalelu and Koya were not so defended, and their skin blistered in the frost. Sandru, Ameiko and Miyaro all managed to dodge aside. When the freezing miasma cleared, however, only then was the true extent of the damage revealed: every one of the cooks and drivers for the caravan lay dead on the ground, frozen in their bedrolls.
"Hah!" Aleksion laughed. "You've tasted the power of the ice, now face the fire!"
He plucked a glowing bead from a necklace around his neck and tossed it into the hut. An instant later, flames erupted inside with a great explosion, and the heroes felt their flesh began to sear.

Mazael stumbled out of the hut, knowing that to stay there would just make them sitting ducks. As he stopped to wipe the heat tears streaming from his eyes, he saw a rush of movement heading towards him. It was Graun Quor, the big half-orc, and his eyes were filled with rage as he charged towards the war-priest, his double-headed axe upraised. He brought it down, and when it connected with Mazael's shoulder, it sawed viciously through the flesh. At the same time, a jagged wound opened in Graun Quor's own skin, but it only seemed to spur him to greater savagery.

Piotr saw that Tyrek Glodfer was recovering from Zula's assault. The sorcerer spoke a spell and touched his throat. When he opened his mouth to speak, an ear-piercing scream split the night air. Tyrek grabbed his head in pain and sank to his knees, dazed and disoriented.
"Well done," a soft voice whispered in Piotr's ear, "but that necromancer should be the last person to concern you!"
Piotr felt a numbing pain go through his spine as the elf, Mollarn, appeared out of thin air behind him. The assassin had plunged a black, liquid-coated blade into the sorcerer's back, and now he twisted it wickedly. Pain wracked Piotr's body, and he could not catch his breath. He felt his legs weaken and begin to give out beneath him. Mollarn withdrew the dagger, then raised it to strike again, but a concussive shout from behind him rocked him sideways and his slice went wide.
"Care to try me?" Zula hissed.

Mazael and Graun Quor danced a brutal performance, hacking and slashing at one another with no regard for their own defense. The war-priest gave as good as he got, but he knew that he would not survive a battle of attrition with the half-orc. Graun's fangs had actually grown longer, and he bit like a rabid wolf. After a particularly bloody attack, Mazael thrust the barbarian away from him, trying to gain a slight breather. It was not to be. He heard chanting coming from his left and turned to see Aleksion Coric brandishing his flaming holy symbol, hands upraised. Suddenly, a wall of whirling, glittering razor-like blades erupted all around the war-priest, slicing and piercing him with a thousand cuts. A moment later, a putrid green ray of light struck Mazael from the right side as Tyrek Glodfer once more regained his composure. Mazael felt his skin literally begin to disintegrate. He was the only one outside of the opaque hut, and as such, he had become target number one.

Boris, still safely within the hut, drew his bow and sighted on the frost giant that towered over the camp. He loosed and the arrow struck, quivering in the giant's meaty thigh. Liao Kuo bellowed and then strode forward until his bulk was half inside the confines of the hut, and glared down at the goblin.
"You are a terrible nuisance, little rat," he rumbled. "Why don't you rest for awhile?"
The giant oni passed his hand through the air, and Boris felt his eyelids grow heavy. He swooned, and fell to the hard ground, snoring loudly.

Mollarn whirled on Zula and stalked towards her, his black dagger in one hand, and a slim rapier in the other. Before he could reach her, however, Sandru stepped into his path, a grin on his face as he gripped his scimitar.
"Shall we?" has asked the elf, inclining his head.
Mollarn lunged towards him, but the caravan master moved like a dancer, keeping just out of reach of the elf's blades, then leaping and slashing with his own. Before long, Mollarn was bleeding steadily from several telling wounds.

Spivey saw the frost giant looming over the sleeping form of Boris and knew that she had to act quickly. With a quick prayer, she threw a burst of sonic energy towards the two of them, knowing the concussion would wound the goblin, but knowing as well that it would also awaken him. Boris startled awake, gripping his throbbing head, only to realize that the giant was still standing over him. Then, a strong hand gripped his arm, and he saw Zula behind him. She gave him a wink, then sang a brief tune. The two of them vanished with a flash of light, and reappeared a moment later on the far side of the hut, safely out of reach of the giant...for the moment.

Fire exploded inside the tiny hut once more as Aleksion Coric lobbed another bead into it. The caravan wagons were ablaze, and the heroes had suffered grievous burns. Mollarn had managed to roll aside from the blast, and the frost giant oni was just outside of its radius. Boris regained his feet next to Zula, and only then realized that he had dropped his bow back in front of the giant. Cursing to himself, he drew his wakizashis, and darted back across the hut until he reached Mollarn. He slashed at the elf as he passed, then made a serpentine path back towards the giant.

Mazael leaped clear of the blade barrier, but unfortunately, Graun Quor was waiting for him. His axe looped around and buried itself into the war-priest's chest. Mazael coughed up a gout of blood, and slumped to the ground.

As Boris closed in on the giant, the brute brought his icy axe down like a guillotine, clipping the goblin as he dodged aside at the last second. Then, another fireball exploded, but this time it completely engulfed the giant oni, who roared in agony.
"Now!" Piotr shouted, his fingers still smoking.
Zula sent her thundercall hurtling into the giant, and he rocked back on his heels. Then Boris was upon him. The goblin's blades were a flashing blur as he sank them into various vital areas. With a final groan of agony, the giant fell like a mighty oak, his body transforming as he collapsed. By the time he hit the ground, his form was that of a purple-skinned ogre, with small white horns protruding from his forehead.

Miyaro dove through the blade barrier, her moves so nimble and timed so perfectly that not a single one of the shards so much as pricked her skin. Graun Quor, standing above Mazael ready to deal a coup de grace, turned towards the slight Tien woman, and a wicked grin spread across his tusked face.
"Come to play, little girl?" he growled, and then lunged towards her.
Miyaro somersaulted out of the way at the last moment, and came up behind the half-orc. From her sleeve, she drew an ornate fan, flicking it open with a snap. As Graun Quor started to turn, she waved the fan and spoke a word, and suddenly, the large, disembodied hand appeared between them. She thrust her own hand forward, and the larger one mimicked the movement, shoving the half-orc forcefully, and propelling him backwards, straight through the blade barrier. He howled in rage as the blades sliced him viciously. Miyaro saw movement from the corner of her eye, and glimpsed Spivey flitting around above Mazael. The little azata passed her hands over the fallen war-priest, and after a moment, he opened his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"This is getting real old," he growled as he climbed stiffly to his feet, hefting Suishen.

Tyrek and Aleksion were closing in on the hut from both sides. Will the fire priest set off another fireball inside, the necromancer sent in a palpable wave of force that left the defenders all feeling bone weary and fatigued as it passed. A moment later, Mollarn, who had somehow managed to disappear in the chaos, abruptly reappeared as he shoved his dagger into Zula's back. Gasping in pain, she spun away from him, projecting her voice at him as she went, and knocking him backwards several feet...straight towards Boris. Before the elf could regain his balance, the goblin thrust one of his wakizashi's through his gut, and with a bubbling, bloody gurgle, the assassin fell.

Calling on Suishen's power, Mazael walked into the air, up and over the blade barrier, and closed the distance to Graun Quor. The half-orc was waiting, though bloodied and swaying on his feet. He whipped his axe at the war-priest, catching him with both blades. Mazael staggered back, nowhere near fully healed. Still, he was determined that he would not give up another inch. Gripping Suishen in both hands, he roared forward, hammering past Graun Quor's defenses, and buried the kantana in the juncture between the half-orc's neck and shoulder. Graun's eyes rolled back into his head, and he went down, his head lolling loosely to one side.

Piotr was almost out on his feet, but he managed to send another ear-piercing scream at Tyrek, though this time, it didn't stop the necromancer. Just before he reached the edge of the hut, however, Sandru fired an arrow through the wizard's shoulder. Tyrek grunted, but still stepped inside the shelter, where he had a clear view of all his enemies. He focused his dead-eyed gaze on Zula, and smiled evilly.
"Try your parlor tricks with no voice," he said, gesturing towards her.
Zula felt her throat tighten, and she could not draw in a breath. She felt like she was suffocating. She clawed at her neck, but she managed to keep her wits about her. What the fool necromancer didn't know was that her thundercall was not dependent on her voice, she merely used that as a means to focus it. The power was innate, and she called upon it now, sending a pair of blasts into Tyrek, crushing his chest with their power. His face turned blue as he sagged to his knees, unable to even gasp a last breath. Zula closed her eyes, steadying her will and pushing down her rising panic. She concentrated on trying to breath until, ever so slowly and painfully, she managed to draw in a ragged wheeze.

By that time, Aleksion Coric had reached the hut as well, but that would prove not to be to his benefit. Shalelu shot him as he stepped through, and as the force of the arrow turned him, Boris was there. The goblin's blades moved quicker than the eye could follow, the first wound mortal, and killing the priest, but his momentum disemboweling and beheading the man before he hit the ground. The companions stared around them, as they all caught their breath. The champions of the Ruby Phoenix had been defeated, but the caravan lay in smoking ruins.

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