JollyDoc's Way Of The Wicked


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Way Of The Wicked

Dramatis Personae

Kelvin Dannister: human male evoker
Tardaesha Dannister: human female anti-paladin
Katarina Dannister: aasimar female rogue
Dakota Dannister: human female inquisitor of Asmodeus
Dorian "Dapper" Dannister: human male priest of Asmodeus
Lemmy Killmister: dwarf male geo-kineticist

ACT ONE: Prison Break!
18 Desnus, 4716

In the kingdom of Talingarde, many crimes may send an individual to Branderscar Prison, but the sentence has but one meaning: you are wicked and irredeemable. Each of the prisoners received the same greeting when they arrived. They were held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with a runic F. The mark signified 'forsaken,' and the painful scar was indelible proof that each of them had betrayed the great and eternal love of Iomedae and her chosen mortal vassals.

Condemned, they faced, at best, a life of shackles and servitude in the nearby salt mines. Others might await the 'gentle' ministrations of the inquisitors so that co-conspirators may be revealed and confessions extracted. Perhaps, some of them would be spared this ordeal. Perhaps instead they had come to Branderscar to face the final judgement. In three days, the executioner would arrive and the axe would fall, or the pyre would be lit. Through fire or steel, their crimes would be answered.

The prisoners had all been chained together in the same communal cell, dressed in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. Manhandled and mistreated, any finery they once possessed was either ruined or long lost. No special treatment had been given to any of them, male or female, commoner or noble. All of the forsaken were bound and imprisoned together. Their feet were secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain. Their arms secured to the wall above by manacles. A guard was posted right outside the cell day and night. Little thought was given to long-term accommodations. At Branderscar, justice came swift and sure...

_____________________________________________________________________

"Idiots!" Kelvin sneered. "I'm related to a bunch of idiots!"
"Now, now, dear brother," Tardaesha purred, "don't be that way. Dakota and I were just protesting your unjust and wrongful arrest."
"By fornicating on the altar in the high temple of Iomedae!!??" Kelvin snapped, incredulous.
"What better way to make our point?" Dakota giggled.
The twins never ceased to amaze and infuriate Kelvin.
"And you!" Kelvin speared Katarina with his gaze. "What in the Hells were you thinking!?"
Katarina shrugged in her shackles.
"I actually thought I might talk them out of it before they got caught," she said, "but I was too late. The priest had already seen them."
"So you thought slitting his throat was the answer!!??" Kelvin spat.
"No witnesses," Katarina shrugged again.
"Except for the fact of a corpse laying in the middle of the sanctuary!" Kelvin shrieked.
"Dory was supposed to take care of that," Kat smiled.
"I did take care of it," Dorian said morosely.
"By burning down the temple!!" Kelvin was apoplectic. "You couldn't think of anything more subtle!?"
"Not at the time," Dorian replied.
"I thought you said this was the crew that was gonna bust you out," Lemmy interrupted.
"Who's the runt?" Dorian asked, frowning at the dwarf.
"A friend," Kelvin said. "He was arrested for treason...a respectable crime. I thought he might be of use when the rest of you came to get me out of this place. It seems my confidence was misplaced."
"Oh, you're always such an uptight sour puss," Tardaesha smirked at her older brother. "Don't blame us because your 'human cargo' business finally got busted."

At that moment, a group of six guards, heavily armed and ready for trouble, came into the cell led by a fat, well-dressed sergeant of the watch. All of the prisoners recognized Sergeant Tomas Blackerly, for it was he who had held the brand that marked each of them. He had laughed as their skin burned. At that moment, however, he seemed a little dazed. Dakota, who, as an inquisitor, had some familiarity with magic, recognized that look: that of someone under the effect of an enchantment.
Blackerly pointed towards Dorian and said gruffly, "You there! That's the scum! Get'im unshackled. If any of you makes trouble, they'll earn a thrashing! Today's your lucky day, scum. You've got a visitor. How you ever warranted such a fine lady is beyond me. Seems she wants to say good-bye. Now step lively. We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."

Dorian was released from his bindings and marched out of the cell. He looked back over his shoulder at his siblings and shrugged. He certainly wasn't expecting any visitors.

____________________________________________________________

Dorian was escorted roughly to a meeting room down the hall from the cell block and shoved into a chair. There, waiting for him, was a hauntingly beautiful woman in an elegant black dress and soft silken veil. She looked as if she might be headed to a funeral. Her hair was so platinum as to almost be white, and her eyes were a vibrant, almost unearthly green. She had clearly been weeping.
"Oh dearest," proclaimed the woman. "I'm so relieved you're alive!"
She quickly turned to Tomas.
"Could we please have a moment alone, good sir? For pity's sake?"
Tomas went blank for a bit and then quickly agreed.
"Of course, my lady," he replied. "For you, 'tis no problem."
No sooner had Blackerly and the guards left, than the woman's demeanor immediately changed. She dropped all pretense of grief or concern, instantly all business.
"Have you forgotten me, dearest?" she asked with a smirk. "Call me Tiadora. We possess a mutual friend who would like to meet you and your fellow cell-mates. Unfortunately, our friend is unwilling to visit you in your present rather shabby accommodations, so it seems you must escape. Don't be so dour. Just because it's never been done before is no reason you can't be the first. If you manage that, cross the moors on the outskirts of town. On the old Moor Road you'll see a manor house with a single lantern burning in the second story. There our mutual friend waits. That is all I know. He did want me to give you this."
She took off her silken veil and wiped away a few fake tears with it before handing it to Dorian.
"Something to remember me by, dearest."
Even though Dorian did not have a divine focus for his prayers, he could still summon up a little magic, and subtly did so, focusing on the veil. It had a magical aura about it. Transmutation if he wasn't mistaken. He accepted it without a word.

Her message delivered, she rose and the guards returned. Immediately, her demeanor once more changed and she was again a perfect picture of grief.
"No!" she wailed. "I can't bear to leave you!"
She gave Dorian a kiss on the cheek. It was ice-cold and felt somehow alien and inhuman. Tomas shook his head.
"I'm afraid it's time, miss."
She looked deep into Tomas' eyes and said, "Thank you for letting me say good-bye. There's no need to search my dearest. You are such a good friend for letting me see my dearest one more time."
"Such a good friend," Tomas repeated, his voice almost mechanical. Then the watch sergeant seemed to snap out of it and bowed politely.
"A pleasure, madam."
She left, unveiled. Her eyes met Dorian's one last time, and she briefly gave him a wicked smile.
'Three days,' her voice echoed in his head. 'Don't disappoint me, dearest.'
The visitation concluded, Dorian was taken back to his cell by a cadre of guards and shackled once more.

______________________________________________________________

"So?" Kelvin asked Dorian once the guards had left the cell block.
The young priest looked askance at the dwarf shackled at the end of the line before answering. When he did, he spoke in a strange, sibilant, hissing language.
"I'm going to use our 'family' tongue in the presence of strangers," he said.
"Are you sure the dwarf doesn't understand Shadowspeak?" Tardaesha asked. "He looks like a sneaky little bastard."
"He doesn't," Kelvin replied. "But just the same, Dory, keep your voice down."
"If you're going to refer to me by anything other than my given name," Dorian snapped, "then call me Dapper, not 'Dory.'"
Kelvin rolled his eyes. "Just get on with it."
"We apparently have an unknown benefactor," Dorian continued. "There was a woman who called herself Tiadora waiting for me. She said that her employer wants to meet us three days from now."
"That's going to be a little difficult in our current dilemma," Katarina said sarcastically. "And me without my lockpicks."
"I thought the same at first," Dorian smiled, "but she left us with a small gift."
He carefully worked his manacled hands until he'd pulled the veil free from where he'd been clutching it. It was made of fine silk, but upon closer inspection, several small patches of various shapes could be seen upon it. Two were shaped like daggers, one a lantern, another a coil of rope, one a sack, a set of lockpicks, a window, a flask, a stack of coins, and what was unmistakably the holy symbol of Asmodeus.
"Take it," Dorian said as he carefully passed it over to Katarina, who was bound next to him.
His sister did so.
"Now," Dorian instructed, "slowly peel off that patch that looks like your tools."
Katarina looked dubious, but she did what he said. No sooner had the patch come free than it transformed in her hand to an actual set of lockpicks. Kat looked at them, incredulous.
"Are these...real?" she asked.
"What do your hands and eyes tell you?" Dorian asked.
Kat passed the veil back to her brother, then her fingers went to work deftly with the picks. Within a matter of moments, she had both of her manacles loose. She grinned at her siblings as she freed her feet as well.
"Looks like we're in business, boys and girls!"

_______________________________________________________________________

Kat had all of the others, even Lemmy (against her better judgement, though Kelvin insisted), freed in no time. Then they set about examining the other patches on the veil. The twins, Tardaesha and Dakota each took one of the daggers, while Dorian took the symbol of Asmodeus, which transformed into a silver amulet that he placed around his neck. Kelvin peeled off the sack which, when he looked inside, he was delighted to find contained, not only fresh clothing for all of them, but also spell components. The other patches they left in place for the time being.

"Now what?" Dakota asked. "We get to kill everyone, right?? Especially that fat whoreson Blackerly?"
"Perhaps," Kelvin said, pensively, "but we need to have a plan. We are only sparsely armed, and we are easily outnumbered five-to-one by armored guards, not to mention the warden. Personally, I would first like to find out just who, or what, they are keeping in there."
He pointed down to the far end of the cell block where, unlike the other cells, which were all open-barred affairs, there was a single, stone-walled cell with a heavy iron door. Since their incarceration, the prisoners had only ever seen the guards peer in the cell through a slit in the door, and pass food through via a slot near the floor.
"Let's find out," Katarina said.
She fairly skipped down the hall to the iron door and peered inside.
"Whoa!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper.
"What?" Kelvin asked. "What do you see?"
"Come take a look for yourself," Kat beckoned.
Kelvin moved up next to her and looked through the slot. What he saw took him aback. The individual chained to the wall within was easily over eight-feet tall, and heavily muscled. His brow was sloped, and his jaw undershot, with two small tusks protruding past his lower lip.
"An ogre," Kelvin said, almost to himself. "This could prove very useful indeed."

"Open the door," Kelvin told his sister after a moment's consideration. "I have an idea."
Kat had no trouble with the door lock, and when the door opened, the ogre glanced up wearily.
"More little'uns," he sighed.
"Yes," Kelvin said, smiling pleasantly as he stepped inside, "but not the same as those who've been tormenting you. You see, we too have been victims of the cruelty of your jailers, and we would like to offer you an opportunity to take revenge upon them. Would you like that?"
"Grumblejack hurt," the ogre rumbled. "Grumblejack sick." He clutched at his belly.
Kelvin glanced back at Dorian, who'd joined them. The priest walked over to the ogre and looked closely at him.
"He has several non-life-threatening injuries," the priest said, "and it could be that he's been poisoned. I can't do anything about that, but I may have something for his wounds."
Dorian pulled out the veil again, and pulled off the patch that looked like a flask. When it transformed in his hand, he pulled the stopper and sniffed at it.
"As I thought," he nodded. "A healing elixir. Drink this." He offered it to the ogre.
Grumblejack complied. Immediately, several of his cuts began to close, and bruises faded. His eyes grew wise in amazement.
"Magic!" he exclaimed. "Little'uns knows magic!"
"Yes," Kelvin agreed. "We are very powerful, and we will use our magic to help you kill the guards. Will you help us?"
Grumblejack nodded, and Kat set about releasing his bonds. He stretched mightily, and then stepped carefully out of his cell, peering around cautiously. His eyes came to rest on Tardaesha.
"Hiya handsome," she winked.
"You pretty," Grumblejack grinned.
"You're not blind," the anti-paladin smiled coyly at him. "Tell you what. You head through that door down there and smash whomever you find on the other side, and I will be all yours."
Grumblejack actually began to drool. "Promise?"
"Cross my heart," Tardaesha said, making the motion across her ample bosom. "We'll be right behind you."

___________________________________________________________________

No sooner had Grumblejack set off down the hall at a trot, than Tardaesha turned and signaled to her twin. Dakota nodded back and blew her a kiss, then darted into the ogre's cell.
"Now," she whispered to Dorian in Shadowspeak. "The window!"
Dorian held the veil and pulled off the window-shaped patch, which he quickly pressed against the wall. Instantly, the fabric transformed into a transparent pane of glass looking out on the courtyard below that surrounded the prison's main hall. Dakota then removed the rope patch from the veil, and when it turned into a coil of hemp, she secured one end of it to the shackles on the wall before throwing open the window and tossing the rest outside.
"Let's go!" she called to the others.

At the other end of the cell block, Grumblejack, images of Tardaesha dancing through his head, threw open the heavy door, startling the two guards who stood on the other side.
" 'Ere now!" one of them shouted. "What're you doin' outta your cell?"
In answer, Grumblejack swung one mighty fist and drove the man into a wall. In a panic, the second guard raised a horn to his lips and sounded the alarm.

"Faster!" Katarina hissed, hurrying her siblings and the dwarf into the ogre's cell.
Once the last of them was in, she closed the door and jammed the lock. Kelvin stood by the window and looked down at the ground twenty-feet below.
"Wait," he cautioned.
His eyelids fluttered as he began mumbling an arcane recitation. From the grass below, a thick mist began to rise, until it billowed up almost to the height of the window.
Now!" Kelvin commanded.
One-by-one, the others gripped the rope and slid down into the fog.

Back in the guard room, the two jailers cautiously circled Grumblejack, taking turns darting in and then springing away. The ogre swung haymakers at them, but more often than not they managed to dodge aside or the blows deflected harmlessly off of their chain shirts. Grumblejack had no such protection, and the cuts and slashes from the swords of the guardsmen began to take their toll. He stepped towards one of his attackers, but stumbled, light-headed at the last moment. The guard lunged forward and drove the point of his sword straight through the ogre's throat. With a gurgle and a sigh, Grumblejack collapsed to the floor.

_____________________________________________________________________

Katarina was the last one out. She heard the shouts of the guards approaching the cell. She quickly untied the rope and tossed the loose end through the window. She then took one step back, and leaped forward, sailing out into open air. She somersaulted in mid-fall, landed lightly on her feet in a crouch, and allowed her momentum to carry her forward into a tuck and roll.
"Not bad, darlin'," Lemmy nodded, a leer on his rugged face. "Yer pretty....flexible."
In a flash, the end of one of Kat's picks was in her hand and at the dwarf's throat.
"Don't mistake me for my sisters, you little pervert," she hissed. "Keep your hands and your eyes to yourself if you value them."
She flicked her pick back into her belt and darted off into the mist.
"Saucy!" Lemmy grinned. "Just how I like'em!"

The prisoners had emerged on one side of the castle. Some thirty feet away were the battlements and the door to one of the guard towers. As quickly and quietly as possible, they ran, crouched low to the ground, and made for the tower. Unfortunately, the last dozen feet or so of their route took them beyond Kelvin's obscuring mist. Katrina had just reached the tower door, and was relieved to find it unlocked, when a beam of lantern light stabbed down from the wall above.
"Halt!" a voice called down to where Kelvin stood pinned by the light.
"Keep moving!" Katarina shouted at her brother.
Kelvin didn't hesitate. He ran in a serpentine pattern, anticipating arrows flying at him, until he reached the shelter of the tower. The others were already inside, and Kat slammed the door behind him. The interior of the tower was hollow and empty, with only a spiral staircase leading up to a rickety landing. Kat led the way up the stairs. At the landing, two doors stood, leading out to the battlements on either side. The stairs continued up to the roof, but Katarina chose the door opposite to the battlements where they'd seen the guards. They emerged atop the wall, where a strong wind howled and whipped at their thin garments.
"The rope!" Kat shouted. "Bring it! We're going over the wall!"
Dorian ran to her side, the rope coiled around one arm. He was in the process of handing it to his sister when he happened to glance over the far side of the battlements, and stopped short. Some sixty-feet below were masses of jagged rocks, lashed by the pounding surf of the ocean that surrounded the small peninsula upon which Branderscar prison sat. Somewhere in the distance, but getting closer, an alarm horn sounded.
"What now, genius?" Dorian asked.


Out Of The Frying Pan

18 Desnus, 4716 - 22 Desnus, 4716

"We head for the gatehouse," Tardaesha said.
"What??" Dorian gaped. "Did you not see the guards on the battlements in that direction?"
"I saw two of them," his sister replied calmly. "There are six of us."
"With exactly two daggers among us!" Dorian snapped. "They are wearing armor, and have weapons!"
"We have faith on our side," Tardaesha smiled. "At least some of us do."
"Well, whatever we're gonna do," Lemmy growled, "we'd best get to doin' it! With all those horns blowin', it ain't gonna be long 'till the whole garrison's between us and the front door!"

Following Tardaesha's lead, they went back through the guard tower and out the door on the opposite side. When they emerged on the far battlements, however, the pair of prison guards they'd seen earlier was just emerging from another tower on the far end.
"There they are!" one of the guards shouted.
"Ladies," Tardaesha turned to Dakota and Katarina, "it's time to show these boys what b#~&*es the Dannister women can be!"
The three sisters began running along the battlements, closing the distance with the guards rapidly. The others looked at one another, then shrugged and started to follow.

"Hello lovers," Tardaeshi smiled humorlessly at the guards as she drew up in front of them. "Looking for us?"
"You won't be smiling once the sergeant gets hold of you!" the man sneered
He raised a leather club and struck her solidly in the belly, causing her to double over as the air whooshed out of her.
"Not so smart now, are you?" he laughed.
His smile faltered a moment later when Katarina cartwheeled nimbly past and behind him. As he turned to follow her, the dagger in her hand thrust into his back. His eyes went wide in pain in surprise.
"Don't forget about me, lover," Tardaesha wheezed as she straightened and rammed her own dagger into his gut.
Dakota giggled, holding one hand to her mouth.
"Bet you always dreamed of having two girls at the same time!" she mocked.
Her smile dropped instantly when she spotted the second guard moving in on her, his club now replaced with a sword.
"Drop!" she commanded, the single word pronounced with emphatic power.
The guardsman looked momentarily perplexed, and then he simply fell to the ground, still clutching his sword and shield, and staring up in confusion. After a moment, he seemed to regain his composure and scrambled to his feet, but as he did so, Kat and Tardaesha were on him like a pair of hellcats, jabbing and sticking with their knives.
"Get off!" the guard roared, swinging his sword wildly, and managing to graze Katarina with it as she danced away.
The first guard, bleeding heavily from his wounds, still managed to bring up his shield and raise his sword as he charged towards the women, bowling into Tardaesha and slamming her up against the crenellations of the battlements. She gritted her teeth and tried to shove him away, but he was too heavy in his armor. Just as she thought she was about to get tossed over the side to be dashed on the rocks below, the man suddenly fell away and slumped to the ground. When Tardaesha looked down, she saw that his throat had been neatly slit. Katarina stood over him, her dagger dripping.
"That's one I owe you, little sister," she smiled through bloody teeth. "Going to have to make it up to you later."
Stumbling, she crossed the distance to Dakota and tossed her twin her dagger.
"Your turn," she grunted as she sank down onto her knees, bleeding freely from several sites.
As Dakota nodded grimly and started towards the remaining guard, Dorian came to Tardaesha's side and knelt beside her.
"Let the power of the Dark Prince revive you," he said as he laid his hands upon her.
Tardaesha felt a wave of heat and pain rush through her body, followed by the sensation of her cuts being gradually knit back together. She reveled in the feeling, moaning in satisfaction. She rolled her head to one side, just in time to see the guard cuff Dakota across the face with the pommel of his sword, only to be impaled through the neck by Katarina when he turned his back on her.
____________________________________________________________________

Dorian did what little he still could to tend his sisters' wounds as they hastily stripped the guards of their armor. Dakota and Tardaesha donned the bulky chain shirts, the latter also hefting one of the heavy steel shields. Dorian took the other, though it was far too heavy and bulky for his rather slight frame. Still, it was better than nothing. Tardaesha then armed herself with a sword, while Dakota strapped on the other, but carried her weapon of choice in her hand...a longbow. Lemmy and Dorian each took a leather club, and with that, they were as prepared as they were going to be.

Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, they entered the second tower from which the two guardsmen had emerged. Finding it blessedly empty, they hurried down the stairs and cautiously opened the door at the bottom which led back into the courtyard, finding themselves only a few dozen yards from the gatehouse. No guards where in sight as they crept across the lawn. The main doors to the gatehouse were massive affairs, closed and likely barred from the inside. They found a smaller, side door, however, that was unlocked, and slipped inside.

The large room beyond looked as if it had seen little use in recent months. In the center of the chamber a ladder led up to a trapdoor, while on one side there were three arrow slits that apparently looked into the inner gatehouse. Voices could be heard coming from beyond the slits.
"We'll hold position here," said a gruff, commanding individual. "They'll have to come through here eventually if they're trying to escape, and we'll be ready for'em!"
"I think I recognize that one," Dakota whispered, cocking her head to one side as she crept towards the nearest arrow slit.
When she peered through, she found herself looking into the wide entryway of the guardhouse, with two, stout, barred double doors at each end. Standing in the middle of the room was Tomas Blackerly, as well as three prison guards.
"Oh, you fat, fat bastard," Dakota said, her voice low as she raised her bow. "You're mine now."
"Dakota!" Tardaesha hissed from where she stood by the ladder. "We don't have time for this! We have to go!"
"Go ahead," Dakota called back softly to her twin. "I'll catch up after I've ventilated this prick."
"You hear that?" Blackerly's voice asked.
"Heard sumpin'," one of the guards replied as he started towards the arrow slits.

"Shit!" Tardaesha cursed as she began climbing the ladder.
She was only older than Dakota by two minutes, but sometimes it seemed as if her twin had the maturity of toddler. When she reached the trapdoor, Tardaesha carefully lifted it and raised her eyes above the lip. A vast open room that seemed to span the entirety of the gatehouse had two more ladders leading up, as well as two more trapdoors in the floor. Twenty arrow slits granted vision over the bridge, courtyard and walls of the prison. In the center of the room was a single chair, with an individual seated there.
"You don't look like a guard," the figure said in a low, growling voice.
"Neither do you," Tardaesha replied, her eyes narrowed.
On closer inspection, she could see that it was a male, and his arms were shackled behind his back. He looked human, but not entirely. His skin had a slight greenish cast, and his ears had a bit of a taper. His lower incisors protruded past his lip just a fraction. Half-orc?
"Where are the other guards?" she whispered.
"Don't know," the half-orc shrugged. "They stopped beating me and ran off when the horns started blowing. Are you a prisoner?"
"Not any more," Tardaesha smiled.
"You didn't happen to run into a crazy-eyed dwarf, did you?" asked the shackled man.
"As a matter of fact," Tardaesha looked down the ladder below her, "we happen to have one of those. He's down there."
"No kidding," the half-orc said, a half smile on his face. "Get me loose, would you?"
At that moment a loud explosion sounded from below.

Katarina quickly picked up some loose debris around the room and jammed it beneath the door frame, hoping to momentarily stall any reinforcements that might arrive. An explosion came from behind her, and she whipped around in a panic, afraid that they'd knocked down a wall to get at the prisoners. Instead, she saw Lemmy crouched in front of one of the arrow slits, one hand extended into it. From his open palm, a spray of dirt, rocks and other detritus blasted into the room on the other side. From her vantage at another slit, Dakota saw the barrage strike the approaching guardsman square in the face, crushing his skull into a bloody pulp as it threw him to the floor.
"What...the...Hells?" Dakota breathed as she stared wide-eyed at the dwarf.
Lemmy shrugged. "It's what I do."
"Well, keep doing it!" she squealed in glee.
"He's not the only one with a fancy trick or two," Dorian said from her other side, where he too stood at one of the arrow slits. "Watch this!"
The priest shook back his sleeves, made the symbol of Asmodeus in the air before him, then pointed his finger through the slit. A bolt of fire sprang from it and flashed through the air towards another of the guards. When it struck him, he yelped and sprang backwards, slapping at his burning tabard.
"Dammit all!" Tomas Blackerly snapped at his remaining men. "Fall back! Follow me!"
He sprang for the ladder, sheathed his sword and began climbing. One of the guards, the one not on fire, moved to follow, but before he did, he snapped off a shot from his bow towards the arrow slits. Against all odds, and likely by blind luck rather than skill, it sailed through and struck Lemmy in the shoulder.
"Gods be damned!" he snarled, ducking back out of sight.
"Tardaesha!" Dakota called up to her sister. "You're about to get some company from a fat bastard! Gut him for me!"

"With this?" Tardaesha muttered to herself, looking doubtfully at the small knife in her hand.
"Now would be good," the half-orc said, shaking his manacled hands meaningfully.
"Do I look like I'm carrying a set of keys on me?" she snapped back. "Kat!" she shouted over her shoulder down the trapdoor. "Get up here!"
Suddenly, the trapdoor next to the half-orc's chair smashed open, and Blackerly climbed up through the hole, drawing his sword as he came.
"Now, now, big boy," Tardaesha said placatingly as she held out her hands, "unlike my sister, I don't wish you a gruesome demise. I just want out of this gods-forsaken place."
"Your lyin' through your frakkin' teeth, b~*&$!" Blackerly spat. "How about I knock a few of 'em out for ya?"

Below, Lemmy peeked his head around the arrow slit again just long enough to hurl another blast of earth through it. Not nearly so devastating as his first, it still managed to catch the guard who had shot him a glancing blow, knocking him off balance. Dakota took that opportunity to fire off a shot of her own, putting an arrow in the man's backside, while Dorian sent another fire bolt at the still smoldering guardsman he'd previously scorched, sending him into convulsions of panic as he struggled to extinguish himself.

Blackerly rushed towards Tardaesha, swinging widely with his sword. Tardaesha ducked and side-stepped simultaneously, then punched at his exposed flank with her dagger. His chainmail deflected most of the blow, but she still managed to draw first blood. He spun back towards her, his blade raised defensively, more wary of her.
"To Hells with this!" a deep voice bellowed from behind him.
The sergeant whirled, just as the half-orc stood up, pulling the back of the chair off as he did so. Blackerly swung, and the tip of his sword slashed deeply across the bigger man's belly. It didn't slow him. The half-orc rushed in and wrapped the chain of his manacles around Blackerly's throat.
"Perfect!" Katarina whooped from where she'd just come up the ladder. "Hold him still!"
She stepped forward and drove her dagger deep into the sergeant's belly.
"No!" he shouted, dropping his sword. "Please don't kill me!"
"That all depends on what you do in the next five seconds," Tardaesha hissed in his ear, pressing her blade against his neck. "Tell your boys down there to stand down."
"Stand down!" he shouted through the trapdoor. "Do it now, you motherless sons!"
In the room below, the guards looked at one another, then hastily dropped their weapons.

___________________________________________________________________

"Lemmy Killmister, as I live and breathe!" the big half-orc grinned broadly.
"Roger Renfield!" the dwarf bellowed as he grabbed the larger man in a bear-hug. "I thought you were dead, boy! What in the Hell's happened?"
"After we got separated in Ghastenhall, I tried to make it to one of our safe houses," Roger shook his head, "but they were waiting for me when I got there. You?"
"That distraction ya bought me almost paid off," Lemmy said, "but when I got to where the contact was supposed to meet me, the cowardly bastard had already lit out!
"As touching as this little reunion is," Katarina interrupted, "if you gentlemen don't want to spend the last three days of your lives as guests of the monarchy, you need to move your asses!"
"I like that one," Lemmy winked at Roger.

Everyone except for Dakota had already climbed down the ladder into the entry hall. The young inquisitor stood over a sobbing Tomas Blackerly.
"Let that be a reminder of whose mercy you owe your miserable life to," she sneered down at him, admiring her handiwork.
Blackerly looked miserably up at her, blood dripping into his eyes from the symbol of Asmodeus that had been carved into his forehead. As she turned towards the ladder, Kat stepped behind the sergeant and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head back.
"Now let this illustrate just how fickle that mercy is," she said as she drew her dagger across his throat.

Once the prisoners had all gathered below, Tardaesha commanded the two guards to strip. They complied uneasily, and then she told them to stand facing the wall. Roger walked calmly up behind them, then clubbed each one with the pommel of Blackerly's sword, knocking them both senseless. By that time, everyone except Kelvyn had donned armor and guards' tabards with hooded cloaks.
"Let's get moving," Tardaesha said as she lifted the bar from the door leading to the bridge from the mainland.
Katarina was the last one to go. She hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the unconscious guards. Kneeling, she quickly and efficiently ended both of their lives.
"No witnesses," she murmured to herself before following her new friends, and family.

Beyond the gates a wide stone bridge with a short guard rail stretched away into the mist. The prisoners strode quickly across it until they saw a small guardhouse loom out of the darkness. A lowered portcullis blocked the far end of the bridge, and a lone guardsman stood there with an upraised lantern. A snarling hound crouched at his feet.
"'Oy!" he called. "Who goes there?"
"Blackerly sent us to reinforce the bridge in case the prisoners make it this far," Tardaesha called back, pitching her voice lower, like a man's. "There's been a break out. Sergeant wants you to bring the dog back to the courtyard to help track down the prisoners."
"You sure?" the guard called back. "Seems unusual."
"Just following orders," Tardaesha replied. "You can take it up with the sarge if you've got a problem with it."
"Ah, Hells," the man sighed, and began walking towards them, the dog straining against its chain.
As he passed them, he paused, cocking his head quizzically.
" 'Ere now," he said, "is that a dwarf?"
"New recruit," Tardaesha said. "Warden hired him to work on reinforcing the walls. Good with stone and all that."
The guard looked dubious, but he just shrugged and kept walking, muttering under his breath something about little bastards drinking up all the ale. The prisoners didn't bother to watch him go. They quickened their pace until they reached the portcullis, where Kat made fast work of the locking mechanism, and Roger cranked it up. They ducked beneath it, and vanished into the shadows of the moors.

_________________________________________________________________

The prisoners found the moors to be little more hospitable than Branderscar itself, especially at night. The dark, brackish salt marches teemed with mosquitos and other buzzing pests. The only good news was that the ever-present shallow brine pools and streams would make tracking them difficult. Unfortunately, it was those same trackless wastes that made the moors a great place to become hopelessly lost. As luck would have it, however, Dorian had actually spent some time in the nearby town of Varyston, and had traveled through those self-same moors on more than one occasion So it was that he was able to fairly reliably lead the way through the wilderness in the general direction in which he thought the Old Moor Road lay.

As they slogged through the pre-dawn hours, wet, cold, and thoroughly miserable, it was Dakota who first noticed something amiss. The constant buzzing and biting torment of insects had abruptly ceased. She glanced uneasily around at the gloom and mist, and that was when her sharp eyes picked out something odd in the light of the full moon. What she thought was a knotty log, half submerged in a nearby pool, suddenly blinked.
"Tardaesha, watch out!" she called to her sister, who was in the lead beside Dorian.
It was too late. The pool exploded as a massive, hideously scarred toad, easily the size of a warhorse, surged out of it. It's thick tongue struck out and wrapped around Tardaesha's mid-section, drawing her bodily towards the monster. Her arms were pinned to her sides, and she couldn't raise her sword to defend herself. Behind her, Katarina pulled an arrow from a quiver she had taken from one of the guards, knocked it to her equally stolen bow, and loosed. Her shot was true and struck the toad in its flank, but it did not loose its hold on its prey. Roger charged in, hacking with a sword, and Lemmy hurled a gout of rock and debris at the beast, and still it held on. It tipped its head back, and with a mighty gulp, swallowed Tardaesha whole.
"Nooo!!" Dakota wailed in panic.
Katarina fired again, and finally, the creature collapsed. Roger leaped atop it and sliced it open from throat to groin. Tardaesha spilled out of its gullet, limp and pale. Dakota ran to her twin, gathering her up in her arms. She leaned over her and pressed her mouth against Tardaesha's own, exhaling deeply. Over and over she breathed until, at last, Tardaesha gasped and arched her back, vomiting a copious amount of water and bile. She blinked rapidly, her eyes watering furiously as she stared up at Dakota.
"Did...I...just get...eaten??" she stammered.
Dakota nodded, a thin smile on her own tearful face.
"One more thing to scratch off your bucket list."

____________________________________________________________________

Katarina was able to track the toad's tracks back to its lair, a small cave accessible only through a stagnant brackish pool. They decided to pass the night there to allow Tardaesha to recover from her wounds. They quickly discovered they were not alone, finding the skeletal remains of some unfortunate deposited in a pile near the back of the cave, a golden medallion still around its neck, and a full coin purse laying nearby. The following morning, the sound of hunting horns and the baying of hounds could be heard in the distance. The prisoners set out again, moving as quickly as the boggy terrain would allow.

Hours later, after having escaped the prison, survived the monstrous toad, and crossed the moors with guard patrols at their heels, finding the house on the Old Moor Road paled beside their other accomplishments. As promised, a lonely lantern burned in the upper story. The place otherwise showed little sign of habitation. Old but well-appointed, the house was large, imposing and isolated on its hill. Painted a dark green and surrounded by barbed wrought iron fencing, nothing about the place seemed inviting or a sanctuary. Still, it was their destination. Where would they go if not there? They had an appointment to keep, and it was best not to keep their nameless benefactor waiting...

_________________________________________________________________

ACT TWO: INTO THE KNOT

At the door of the manor house, the escapees were met by none-other-than Tiadora. She no longer looked like she was destined for a funeral, instead clad in a diaphanous white gown that made her look almost angelic. When she spoke, however, any illusions about her angelic character were quickly dispelled.
"Dearest, you took long enough," she said pitilessly, addressing Dorian. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever make it. Oh, and you brought friends. The master commands all of you to appear before him, but before that, you must be made presentable. Slaves!"
She clapped her hands and a dozen young attractive men and women all wearing very traditional servants' livery appeared quickly, their heads bowed.
"These people are our guests," Tiadora commanded imperiously. "See them to their rooms. I want them cleaned, dressed and refreshed. Quickly."
There was something in that last word that sounded like a threat. Certainly the slaves took it that way, hustling to perform their duties.

Tiadora did not wait around for questions or inquiries. Instead, she left the group in the care of the slaves. They were led up to individual rooms, though Dakota and Tardaesha chose to cohabitate, where they found fresh clothes perfectly sized to each of them, as well as facilities for washing up. When their attendants noticed that several of their guests bore injuries, they brought in decanters of velvety red wine mixed with various herbs. When it was imbibed, the drinkers discovered that it immediately healed the worst of their wounds, and the platter of hot delicious food and fresh water that was brought after went a long way to healing their spirits.

After a time, the slaves notified the fugitives that Tiadora requested their presence. Once they'd all gathered downstairs, Tiadora led them to a beautifully appointed office richly decorated with dark wood and sumptuous brocade tapestries. Sitting in a leather high-backed chair was a devilishly handsome fellow who smiled as they entered.
"I believe you to be the first to ever escape from Branderscar Prison," he said by way of greeting. "Well done! Of course, you had help from the outside," he added with a wicked smile. "But enough with the pleasantries. You must be curious why I've helped you. Rest assured this is no random act of altruism. I have brought you here for a reason. My name is Cardinal Adrastus Thorn. I am the last high priest of Asmodeus left on the island of Talingarde. Once the Prince of Nessus was rightly revered alongside the other great powers. Now, the king of Talingarde has become a puppet to Iomedaen fanatics who wish to destroy an religion that does now bow to their insipid patron. For their blasphemy, I will see the same people who imprisoned and condemned you suffer. I understand what you went through, for I have faced it myself."
With that, he pulled up the sleeve of his robe and revealed his own runic "F" brand.
"I am going to burn Talingarde to the ground, and from the ashes I will build a new nation that knows its rightful master. I cannot do this alone. I seek servants worthy of our Infernal Father's majesty. Have I found them in you?"
He rose and his eyes flashed with hellfire and divine purpose.
"Join me!" he cried. "Serve me well in this holy endeavor and I will raise you up in the eyes of gods and men. I will make you princes of the new Talingarde. Today, swear fealty to me and to Asmodeus. Put aside forgiveness, and I will give you vengeance. Put aside mercy, and be made powerful. Put aside peace, and become my harbingers of war. What say you? Will you swear your allegiance or will you burn with the rest of the blind fools?"

By this point, the eyes of the Dannisters shown with religious fervor, and all of them were nodding enthusiastically. Lemmy, for his part, simply shrugged his shoulders and muttered,
"Why not?"
The only one to hesitate was Roger. Unconsciously, his right hand reached up and touched the symbol that hung around his neck.
"A crisis of faith, is it?" Thorn asked with a smile when he noticed the gesture. "Let me assure you, my half-breed friend, your patron, Zon-Kuthon, is nothing before the power of Asmodeus. Yet the Dark Prince will remember his friends and allies once the new order rises. I'm certain the god of suffering will have no reason for regret once the reign of Asmodeus begins."
Roger hesitated a moment longer, then nodded once, briefly.
"Excellent," Thorn smiled. "Let us make it official. Signing in blood is traditional."
He brought out a quill, a silver ritual knife and two copies of a contract written on some unidentifiable leather, penned in dark red ink...the Pact of Thorns. It read as follows:

Behold on this day, 19 Desnus, 4716, in the eighth age of this world, a perpetual Compact is made between Cardinal Adrastus Thorn (hereafter the Master) and those who would be bound to him as his acolytes (hereafter the Bound). Both the Master and the Bound shall hold fast and true to this Compact through all trial and tribulation. By blood and soul the Bound commit to the Compact and swear that it shall never be undone.
The Bound shall know and understand the Four Loyalties.
The First Loyalty is to their patron and god...mighty Asmodeus, first among the fallen, prince of the nine hells, our father below. They shall do all that can be done to further his worship and his glory.
The Second Loyalty is to their master...He who is called the Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, High Priest of Asmodeus in Talingarde. They shall do the Master no harm and obey his every commandment as long as those commandments do not clash with their First Loyalty.
The Third Loyalty is to their companions...the other Bound who serve alongside them. The Bound shall deal with each other fairly and honorably as long as doing so does not clash with their First or Second Loyalties. All treasure, wealth and reward garnered in their exploits will be equally shared with all of the Bound who aided in its acquisitions.
The Fourth Loyalty is to themselves...for Asmodeus is the Lord of Ambition and all who serve him should strive to become great and powerful in his service as long as doing so does not clash with their First, Second or Third Loyalties. By their weakness, ye shall know the unworthy.
The Bound swear that they cleave to and uphold the Four Loyalties even in the face of death and damnation.
The Master swears that as long as the Four Loyalties are upheld, he shall reward the Bound as they deserve for their deeds.
Thus it is written, and thus it shall be.
We being of sound mind and free will do so swear and let they who violates this Compact know all the wrath of Hell unending.

One by one, the Bound stepped forward and signed their names.

___________________________________________________________________

After the signing ceremony, the newly Bound were led by Tiadora from the meeting room.
"You are free to move about the manor as you will," she said. "Food, drink, clothing are all at your disposal. You may also select a slave as a companion if you like."
"What if what I like is you," Tardaesha asked in a seductive tone.
Tiadora's gaze pinned her like an insect. Tardaesha swallowed impulsively. After a moment, the other woman cracked a small, icy smile and laughed before turning away.

Over the next three days they lived like kings. The new clothing they received was more befitting nobility than prisoners on the lam. The servants also approached each of them and asked what equipment they required. When requests were made, the slaves returned later with anything from arms and armor, to spell books and religious materialS. Each of them also received a silver medallion engraved with the symbol of Asmodeus, and a simple iron circlet, which Tiadora instructed them to wear at all times.
"It can magically alter your appearance," she explained. "Something I'm sure you will find useful in the coming days."
They also discovered that they were not alone in the house. In another wing, there were four more individuals, three men and a woman. They called themselves...The White Ravens...


22 Desnus, 4716 - 22 Arodus, 4716 - The Cruel Lessons of Master Thorn

"So do you trust our new patron, Miss Zadaria?" Kelvin asked the young woman sitting across from him on one of the overstuffed chairs in the manor's study.
"Please, call me Elise," she smiled, though there was no mirth in her eyes. "As for trust, that is a thing hard-earned. Suffice it to say that I have no reason to distrust Cardinal Thorn at the moment."
Kelvin nodded thoughtfully. "It just seems to me that a man such as he would have no qualms about eliminating tools when they were of no further use to him."
"Then we'd best be sure that we don't outlive our usefulness," Elise smiled again and sipped from the brandy snifter one of the slaves had brought her.
"I'm afraid I've strayed from our original topic," Kelvin returned the smile. "You were telling me about how you and the White Ravens came to the attention of the cardinal."
"There's really not much to tell," she shrugged. "We come from the northlands of Talingarde, a place you southerners affectionately call 'savage.' We were recruited by Thorn after we successfully raided a paladin's tomb."
"Well done," Kelvin raised his glass.
"Yes, well," she replied, "I suppose it doesn't compare to breaking out of prison...assuming one allowed oneself to be caught in the first place."
The subtle barb was well placed, and a sour expression passed briefly across Kelvin's face.
"So you are not, in fact, a follower of Asmodeus?" he asked.
"No," Elise shook her head. "I serve The Endless Winter."
"Not familiar with that one, I'm afraid," Kelvin said, a bit dismissively. "What of your companions? Any Asmodeans among them?"
"You'd have to ask them," Elise said flatly.
"That big half-elf is not much of a conversationalist," Kelvin said.
"Dostan?" Elise asked. "No, not really, but he does love his mead, and he is definitely someone you want by your side if a scrap breaks out."
"What about the twins?" Kelvin asked.
"The Rackburn brothers," Elise nodded. "An interesting pair. Tallus, or Trak as he calls himself, was a bounty hunter when I first met him. Preferred to bring his quarry back dead when given the choice."
"He seems smitten with you," Kelvin teased.
"He has his uses," Elise quipped.
"And his brother? Titus is it?" the wizard pressed.
"Calls himself Trik," she said, bemused. "A priest, devoted to Asmodeus actually, now that I recall. Nice enough boy, though a bit too jovial for my tastes."
"Well, it seems as if our lot has been cast together," Kelvin said, rising to his feet. "Let us hope that it is to our mutual benefit."
He held out his glass, and she tapped with her own.
"Here, here," she smiled.

_________________________________________________________________

"Cardinal Thorn requests the pleasure of your company," Tiadora said without preamble as she walked into the dining room where the Dannisters were supping with Lemmy and Roger. "You'll want to bring any gear and equipment that you feel may improve your chances of survival."
The ex-convicts glanced at one another uneasily, not certain if the woman was joking. She didn't seem the type. They scrambled from the room, hurried back to their quarters to gather their arms and armor, then assembled where Tiadora awaited them outside the same study where they had originally met their host.

"Have you enjoyed your gifts?" Thorn asked as soon as they were escorted into his presence. He was seated and relaxed, as if he'd never left the room, though he had not been seen around the manor over the past three days. "The iron circlets allow you to move amongst your enemies as one of them. The silver amulets will remind you of your true loyalties. And the other items...well, you need them now."
Kelvin tensed visibly.
"You have done well to escape Branderscar, and to accept my offer," Thorn continued, seeming not to have noticed the wizard's discomfort. "However, you are still not ready for my service. Tiadora will lead you to the basement of this domicile. There you will find nine chambers, each more dangerous than the last. Somewhere hidden within these chambers is a pendant of silver and sapphire. Recover the pendant and bring it to me. Let nothing and no one stand in your way."
He stood and looked out the window across the grey moor.
"It's almost dusk," he said. "You have until dusk tomorrow to bring me my prize. Do not fail me."
He turned back and reseated himself behind his desk. Tiadora entered the room right on cue.
"This way," was all she said.

______________________________________________________

"So is this some sort of test?" Kelvin asked Tiadora.
She did not answer.
"Should we be ready for a fight?" he persisted.
"You are servants of Asmodeus in Talingarde," she said curtly. "You should always be ready for battle."
"Well what does this pendant look like?" Kelvin asked.
"You will know it," Tiadora said.
She led them to a set of stairs.
"Below, you will find the Nine Lessons," she pointed down the stairs.
"What's down there?" Kelvin asked.
"The Master has already told you all you need to know," she replied, her voice tightening.
Kelvin didn't take the hint. "No, really. What's down there?"
"Monsters. Death. Worse." Tiadora's eyes had begun to glow ever so slightly.
"Hmmm," Kelvin mused, nodding. "Can we leave the basement to rest and come back later?"
"You may go wherever you wish within the manor," Tiadora said, her voice as cold as ice. "But the pendant is in the basement, not in your bed chambers. I will warn you...our master takes failure...poorly."
She turned and left without another word.

Kelvin looked at his companions.
"That could have gone better," Tardaesha smirked.
"I'm tired of being jerked around like a puppet on a string," her brother snapped.
"It's better than being impaled on a rack," Dakota shrugged.
"You shouldn't push a high priest of the faith," Dorian warned.
"Makes no difference to me," Katarina yawned. "I was getting bored hanging around this place anyway."
"Let's just get this over with," Lemmy growled. "I been itchin' to kill somethin' since we left prison."
Roger patted his friend on the shoulder. "Something tells me your going to get your wish."

_____________________________________________________________

The stone stairs led down, through an archway, and into an unfurnished chamber. Inscribed upon the archway in the common tongue were the words: "Deception is a tool. Self-deception is death. Deceive always thy enemy, but never thyself."
The room itself was lit by a small oil lantern that hung from the center of the ceiling. A single door stood at the opposite side of the chamber.

Katarina walked across the room and bent to examine the door closely.
"See anything?" Tardaesha asked as she came up behind.
"Looks clear," Kat shrugged, and then pulled it open.
Suddenly, with an audible click, a ten-foot section of the floor in front of the portal simply fell away, revealing a pit studded with iron spikes at the bottom. Katarina instinctively leaped to one side as the trap sprung, narrowly avoiding a fall. On the opposite side of the pit, Tardaesha caught herself on the edge and quickly pulled herself up. Lemmy and Roger, however, who had been coming towards the door as Kat opened it, preparing to back her up should any danger lay beyond, both stumbled directly into the pit. They struck the bottom, hard, and each was jabbed even more painfully by several of the spikes. The fact that the spikes had been blunted was small comfort, though it probably saved their lives.

The others quickly lowered ropes to pull the dwarf and half-orc out of the pit, and then Dorian drew a thin bone wand from his belt and touched each of them. Their wounds began to close, slowly, but inexorably as the infernal healing magic contained within the wand took effect.
"I thought you said it was clear!" Lemmy shouted into Kat's face as he hauled himself out of the hole.
"I said it looked clear!" she snapped back.
She glanced over at the open door, which held only a blank stone wall behind it. She whirled sharply away from the dwarf and made her way slowly around the perimeter of the room. Twice she paused, at sections of the wall opposite one another. She traced a finger around the cracks in the masonry at those points.
"There and there," she indicated. "There are hidden doors in each location. I've checked them both."
"Yeah?" Lemmy barked. "And what do you think about those??"
Kat just shrugged again. "Looks clear."

_____________________________________________________________

The two secret doors did, indeed, prove to be trap-free. Behind the first was concealed a small niche. Inside was a low pedestal that held a jewel which glowed with a pale blue light. It was cold to the touch, and there was another inscription on the pedestal: "Thou hast seen through deception to uncover a useful tool."
Kelvin lifted the jewel and carefully appraised it.
"Alchemical ice," he said after a moment. "Similar in principal to alchemical fire. If the glass is smashed, the reagent will be released and cause quite an uncomfortable frost burn."
He tucked the gemstone away in one of his belt pouches.

The other door revealed a short passage which ended at another wooden portal bearing yet another inscription: "Following the herd is for fools.Fear not their icy derision. Instead, fear only thy Infernal Lord."
"You see?" Kelvin patted his belt pouch. "Ice."
Inside the stone chamber beyond the door, there were three more doors, each facing one of the other cardinal directions. The entire chamber seemed strangely cold, and the ground was dirty and dusty.
"Hold on a moment," Kat held one hand up before any of the others could enter the room, then crouched down to examine the floor more closely.
"There are a lot of footprints in the dust here," she observed, "but they all lead to the south and east. None of them go west."
"Then that's the way we go," Kelvin said. "Don't follow the herd."
He stepped into the room and headed towards the western door, but paused several feet away. There was something on the surface of the door. It looked like some sort of strange, pulsating violet mold. He held out one hand towards it, cautiously.
"The air is colder the closer to the growth," he said. "Almost as if it's sucking the warmth out of the air. Hmmm. I wonder..."
Kelvin pointed one finger towards the mold and spoke a single word.
"Freezare!"
A thin, blue ray shot from the digit and struck the growth. Instantly it shriveled and flaked off to dust. Underneath where it had clung, a second inscription was visible on the door: "Thou hast made thy own path."

_________________________________________________________________

The western door led to a vaguely u-shaped passage. It twisted around before ending at another wooden door. Not surprisingly, it was inscribed.
"Know your enemy. Shatter all that blinds you and then burn thy adversary to ashes."
Once Kat was confident that the door was not rigged, she pulled it open. The chamber beyond was completely dark. Even the magical globe of light that Kelvin held aloft did not penetrate it. Still, Katarina could see clearly into the room. She alone of her siblings carried within her a trace of outsider blood. Some ancestor down the line had apparently dallied with with a member of the Heavenly Host. Though the thought sickened Kat, she did not mind the supernatural gifts she had inherited, such as her darkvision. Roger and Lemmy could see as well, thanks to their own heritage, and what all three of them saw was a globe of obsidian resting on a podium in the center of the chamber. As they stared, a semisolid red mist rose from cracks in the floor. It appeared to have a consistency similar to thick foam, and it floated through the air swiftly towards them. As it drew near, it snaked out a tendril which latched onto Roger's arm. The half-orc cried out in disgust as the mist grew a deeper shade of crimson, siphoning the blood directly through his skin. It pulled swiftly away and sank back into the floor cracks, leaving Roger feeling weak and light-headed.

"What's happening?" Kelvin shouted, seeing the pale half-orc stagger back from the door.
"The orb!" Lemmy yelled at Kat. "We need to bust it like the writin' said!"
Kat nodded and leaped into the room. She brought the pommel of her dagger down on the black glass, only to have it rebound harmlessly off.
"Get back!" Lemmy elbowed her out of the way.
He flung his hands out, hurling a blast of stoney debris towards the orb, and shattering it into a thousand pieces. Instantly, the darkness vanished. A moment later, like a serpent, the red mist rose up again. Kelvin's eyes grew wide as he recognized the nature of the thing.
"It's vampiric!" he warned. "Fire! We need to use fire against it!"
"I'm a little short on flames!" Roger snarled as he swung his sword at the mist.
The blade cut into the creature, but not nearly as much as the half-orc would have thought, given the force of his swing. Before he could pull it loose, the mist struck him with another tendril, drinking in even more of his life's blood.
"Get away from it!" Kelvin commanded.
He didn't wait to see if Roger would, or could obey. His hands and fingers moved quickly as he conjured up a flurry of mystical bolts of pure force and hurled them at the mist. It recoiled from the impact in obvious pain, but before it could retreat into the floor again, He threw a second barrage of missiles at it. It dissipated into harmless ooze.

____________________________________________________________________

There was nothing to be done for Roger.
"I'm not a healer," Dorian said when the half-orc asked. "If you want that type of priest, go find a sun-worshipping Iomedaean."
Roger gave him a dark look, but it was the truth.
"Just don't come hiding behind me next time your god doesn't protect you from the business end of a sword," he grumbled.
"He's your god too now," Dorian smiled.

Two doors led from the chamber of darkness, one to the north, and one to the east. Beyond the first was a short hall that ended at another door, while the second revealed a longer hall that curved away beyond sight. To leave no stone unturned, the acolytes chose the first route.
"Cruelty is a tool not a pastime," read the inscription on the far door. "Be ruthless to thy enemy but reward those who serve thee well."
Kat assured them the door was safe, and Tardaesha threw it open. There was only one thing in the small room on the other side: a torturer's rack. It appeared functional and ready for use, but was unoccupied. A single oil lantern hung from the ceiling above it.
"I like it," Dakota smiled as she walked around the rack, trailing her fingers lovingly along it, and winking at Tardaesha.
"Maybe the Cardinal will let you try it out on one of the slaves once we've retrieved his bauble," Tardaesha laughed.
"So what's waitin' to jump out at us in here?" Lemmy asked as he walked around the room's periphery.
He paused as he reached a certain spot at one wall, and reached out to touch the stone.
"Heads up ladies and gents," he rumbled. "If there's one thing I know, it's stonework, and there's somethin' different with this."
Kat came to stand beside him and peered at the spot he indicated.
"There's a seam," she said, tracing a thin line with one finger. "It goes all the way around...a door!"
"Get back," Tardaesha said, drawing her sword. "I sense...something...,"
"Hrmm," Roger growled. "Me too."
"Open it," Tardaesha nodded to Kat, who touched another spot on the wall, causing a section to spring open.
"Well, well, what have we here?" Tardaesha grinned evilly as she looked inside.
There was a small room on the other side of the secret door, bare and dark. Cowering in a corner was a teenage boy. He wore a chain shirt beneath a dirty tabard, and an empty sheath hung at his side.
"I recognize the heraldry," Kelvin said softly to his sister in Shadowtongue. "It's House Balentyne. They're a noble family with holdings near the Watch Wall."
Tardesha nodded, then sheathed her sword and softened her smile.
"Easy boy," she said soothingly. "You're safe now. We are agents of House Balentyne sent to rescue you."
The boy looked incredulous, a flicker of hope in his eyes, but fear and distrust warring there as well. His gaze fell upon Dorian, and the Asmodean symbol that hung around the priest's neck.
"Why does he wear the sign of the Dark One?" the boy asked in a tremulous voice.
"He's our prisoner," Tardeasha replied without hesitation. "We're taking him back with us for interrogation."
"We're wasting time here, boy!" Roger snarled, looming over the lad. "Are you coming with us or not?"
"Tell me your name, dear," Tardaesha feigned annoyance with Roger as she held out a hand to the young man. "We need to be sure we've got the right person."
"Ti...Timeon," he stammered.
"That's right," Tardaesha smiled. "Timeon. We will take you home, Timeon, but first we need to find an item hidden somewhere in this dungeon. It's vital that we not let it fall into the hands of the Asmodeans. Have you seen a silver pendant, studded with sapphires?"
Timeon shook his head. "What about Sir Balin?" he asked. "Surely you're hear for him as well!"
"Sir Balin?" Kelvin asked, his voice ice. "Of Karfield?"
"Yes!" Timeon nodded emphatically. "Have you found him?"
"A member of the Alerion order," Kelvin said in an aside to Tardaesha, using Shadowtongue once again. "It was he who captured me!"
"We have not found him yet," Tardaesha said to Timeon, "but we are here for him as well. When was the last time you saw him?"
"We were out on patrol," Timeon replied. "We were ambushed by armed men. I was knocked out, and when I awoke, I was in a chamber with a cruel, bald man. He wore the symbol of the Dark One as well! He attacked me, and I was wounded, but I managed to flee. I found this hidden redoubt and have been hold up here ever since."
"What have you seen since you've been here?" Tardaesha asked. "Anything you can tell us will help us."
"In a room nearby I saw vicious metal cobras," Timeon said breathlessly. "Past that there is a room with stairs leading up, but a secret door across from them hides the way out! Be careful, though. Beyond that is a chamber with a shrieking mushroom! Worse, when it cries, it awakens drowned men in an adjoining room!"
"Truly, this is a house of horrors," Tardaesha nodded sympathetically. "Which is exactly why you need to remain here, in hiding. We need to find the pendant, as well as Sir Balin. I promise you, we will come back for you."

__________________________________________________________

Leaving Timeon behind, the Dannisters, Lemmy and Roger returned to the chamber where they'd fought the vampiric mist, and then went through the second door and into the corridor beyond. It turned a corner and ended at another door. Written upon the door were the words: "The chosen are revealed by their might. The weak deserve no sympathy."
"If our boy Timeon's information is to be trusted," Tardaesha said, "then we have a pair of metallic serpents waiting for us on the other side. Prepare yourselves."

She pushed open the door, revealing a bare room illuminated by a hanging oil lantern. Coiled beneath it were two very large cobras, their skin a glittering, silvery alloy. They raised their hooded heads at the presence of intruders and hissed in unison, venom dripping from their metal fangs. Uncharacteristically, Dorian shouldered Tardaesha aside. He touched his thumbs together and then fanned his fingers. A sheet of fire splayed out from his hands and washed over the oncoming snakes. Once the fire died, however, only one of the constructs showed signs of scorching. The other was unscathed.
"They are resistant to magic!" the priest shouted in dismay.
"But not immune, apparently," Kelvin said from beside him as he released a salvo of magic force missiles. They unerringly struck the same snake Dorian had managed to damage, denting and cracking its metal hide. Then Tardaesha stepped in front of her brothers and reached out a bare hand towards the cobra. When she touched it, a flash of dark energy sparked from her fingers, and the snake instantly went inert.

Unfortunately for the fallen paladin, the second cobra had managed to draw dangerously close, and it struck with blinding speed. Its fangs sank into Tardaesha's forearm, and as the poison burned through her veins, she stumbled back, dizzy and disoriented. Katarina and Roger leaped to her aid, flanking the serpent and drawing its attention. Kat stabbed twice with her dagger, and though she managed to graze its carapace, the brunt of her blows were deflected aside by the enchanted metal. Her equilibrium returning, Tardaesha reentered the fray, her corrupting touch blackening the cobra's skin, but not before it bit her hand. Cursing, she touched it again, and once more it struck back. She wavered, unsteady on her feet. Kat tried to penetrate the serpent with her dagger again, not faring much better than she had on her first attempt.
"Step aside ladies!" Roger roared as he raised his sword above his head with both hands.
He brought it down in a powerful stroke that completely severed the cobra in two. Its halves writhed for a few moments more before going still.

"Hmm," Kelvin murmured as he knelt down over the wreckage of the snakes. "This is mitrhil. Most of these types of constructs are made of iron. Our host spared no expense. We should take the remains with us. They should fetch a good price."
"Good," Dorian said sourly. "We're going to need all the money we can get to replace my wands if we keep running through them like this."
He finished applying the infernal healing magic to Tardaesha, and she smiled and patted his cheek affectionately.
"Always the worrier, Dory," she said. "You must have faith little brother. Asmodeus will provide."

__________________________________________________________________

Their linear progression continued, with only a single door exiting the serpent chamber, giving onto another short hallway that ended at another door.
"Suffer not the fool," read the inscription. "Stupidity is our faith's cardinal sin."
The room it guarded looked similar to all the others, plain with a single oil lantern providing illumination. There was a single podium in the center of the room, and upon it lay a pendant of silver...a dragon with sapphire eyes. There appeared to be no way out of the room save for a stairway leading up to the east.

"It can't be this easy," Kelvin shook his head, taking in the details of the scene.
He approached the podium cautiously and looked appraisingly at the pendant. After a moment, he picked it up, testing its heft.
"Just as I thought," he smiled triumphantly. "While the silver is authentic, the sapphires are merely cheap costume jewelry. Little more than cut glass."
He tossed it to the floor and stomped on it with one boot heel, crushing the stones to dust.
"Timeon mentioned a secret door in here," Tardaesha pointed out. "Across from the stairs, he said."
"Yep, I see it," Lemmy replied. "Right there. Plain as the nose on yer face."
It was not plain to anyone else, but when Kat went to examine the place the dwarf indicated, she was able to find the seam of the door.

The door opened onto a corridor running south, before hooking east after a dozen yards. Around the corner it ended at another door, but just as they passed the bend, Lemmy halted them.
"Look!" he bellowed. "Here's another one!"
He pointed to the corner and traced the outline of another hidden door. Kat ascertained its safety and opened it, revealing a short hall that ended at a blank wall. There, however, was the backside of yet another hidden door, obvious from this side. It too bore an inscription: "Beware the fallen for they may rise once more to threaten you."
"The drowned men Timeon reported," Tardaesha said. "I have a feeling that boy is going to prove very useful."

The square stone chamber beyond the secret door was lit by a single lantern. Around its perimeter lay eight battered wooden coffins encrusted with salt brine, barnacles and dried sea weed. Tardaesha dashed into the room immediately, and leaped atop the nearest coffin.
"They can't get out if we hold them down like this!" she shouted to her companions. "Come on! Everybody pick one!"
Before any of the others could act, however, the lid of one of the coffins across the room suddenly exploded outwards. From inside rose a barnacle-encrusted corpse, dripping with water and exuding a nauseating stench. It was dressed in rusted armor, and gripped a pitted greataxe in its rotting hands.
"I'm on it!" Roger cried as he charged across the room.
His sword cleaved into its sodden flesh with a sound like a fist striking raw meat. Trying to keep his gorge from rising, the half-orc wrenched the blade free just as Tardaesha came running to his side. The corpse moved with a speed that belied its decomposed state, turning to meet the onrushing woman and driving the blade of its axe into her belly. Her mail held, preventing her from being disemboweled, but the blow was powerful, and knocked the wind from her lungs. She struck back weak and reflexively, scoring a glancing blow, but that provided an opportunity for Roger to step in and sweep the thing's head from its shoulders. It toppled to the floor just as a second coffin erupted in another corner of the room.

Tardaesha, still clutching her bruised belly, hurried towards the second draugr, scoring a solid hit across its back before it could ready its axe. It whirled towards her, and that's when Katarina leaped at its exposed flank. Almost with a sixth sense, it spun back towards her, the huge axe defining a wide arc. Kat jumped back at the last second, but the rusty blade still bit through her leathers, and carving out a sizable divot of flesh from her thigh. She reversed, ducked under the creature's backswing, and drove her dagger up towards its heart. The point of the blade merely rebounded off of the draugr's flesh, almost as if she'd stabbed a tree trunk instead of skin. She darted back a safe distance before it could swing at her again, blood running in thick rivulets down her leg.
"Hold still!" Dorian snapped as he applied the tip of his wand to her wound. "Your bleeding to death isn't going to do any of us any good!"
"Thank y...," she began, but then her eyes went wide and her mouth slack.
Dorian looked up, just as the draugr yanked the axe blade from between Kat's shoulders. She crumpled to the floor at his feet.

A third coffin blew open as Roger drove his sword point through the second draugr's back and out its chest as it stood over Kat.
"Hope she's ok," he said to Dorian, glancing down at the fallen rogue, his eyes not conveying hope. "Need to finish this first."
He and Tardaesha closed the distance with the newest undead arrival, and between the two of them, took it down before it could even retrieve its weapon. When a fourth and, as it turned out, final undead bursts forth, the duo made quick work of it as well.

Just to be on the safe side, Lemmy, Roger and Tardaesha threw open the lids to the other four coffins, exposing dead bodies laying within. It didn't matter. They proceeded to blast, hack and stab the corpses until they were thoroughly sure they would not be rising any time soon. Katarina still breathed, though only barely, by the time Dorian was able to assess her. He applied infernal healing to her, slowly closing the terrible wound and returning her to consciousness. After a couple of more applications of the wand, he pronounced her right-as-rain, though the look in her eyes told a different story. Her near-death experience had shaken her confidence badly.

____________________________________________________________

Two doors led from the chamber of the risen, but one of them, the easternmost, seemed to lead back the way they'd come.
"We still haven't found the shrieking fungus that Timeon mentioned," Tardaesha said. "Perhaps it lies back that way."
"Which means we bypassed it with Lemmy's timely discovery of that hidden door," Roger said, patting his friend on the back.
Kat shuddered.
"I hate to think of what we would have found in this room if we had triggered such a racket. Perhaps all of the undead would have been waiting for us instead of slumbering."
Dakota wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulder as they left the morgue behind.

The western door gave onto another short hall which, predictably, ended at another door. What set this portal apart, however, was the fact that it was reinforced with iron bands, and was secured with a well-made lock. Hanging beside it on a peg was a heavy iron key.
"Serve thy master well, and be rewarded," read the inscription.
"Wait," Tardaesha warned the others, holding up one hand. "I sense it again. The same aura when we found Timeon."
She bowed her head, concentrating, and pressed one palm against the door.
"Me too," Roger sniffed the air, growling low in his throat. "Sickeningly sweet."
Tardaesha drew away from the portal. "There is a strong presence of goodness coming from the other side," she said. "Perhaps it's the knight Timeon serves."
"Balin," Kelvin sneered. "Then I suggest we put these circlets the Cardinal gave us to good use."

One by one the seven of them touched the metal bands upon their brows and focused. Instantaneously, all of their appearances altered, making them look like a company of Alerion knights, complete with emblazoned tabards and holy symbols of Iomedae.
"Sir Balin!" Tardaesha called through the door. "Are you in there, my Lord?"
A moment's silence, then, "Who's there?" a voice replied.
"We're here to rescue you, Sir!" Tardaesha called back. "Stand clear!"
At a nod from her sister, Kat used the key to unlock the door, then pushed it open. In a sparse cell on the other side stood a man in full plate armor, carrying a heavy steel shield. A longsword was gripped in one hand, and his tabard bore the symbol of the Knights of Alerion. Around his neck hung a holy symbol of Iomedae...crafted of silver and sapphires.
"Who are you?" He demanded, staring suspiciously at the group gathered at the door.
"We are a covert operations unit of the Order, Sir," Tardaesha replied. "We were sent here to find you, and your squire. Timeon, I believe?"
"I have not seen the boy since my imprisonment," Balin shook his head.
"How did you come to be here, Sir?" Tardaesha asked, the soul of respect.
"Timeon and I were ambushed two days ago," Balin replied. "We were separated in the battle, and I was sorely wounded. I awoke in this cell, but all my wounds had been healed, and I still held my arms and armor. Who is responsible for this outrage!?"
"Asmodeans," Tardaesha said. "A hidden sect we only recently discovered."
"Filthy devil worshippers!" Balin snarled. "We shall make them pay for their heresy! Come, I am taking command of this unit, but we are not leaving without Timeon!"
"As you say, Sir," Tardaesha bowed and stepped aside.

The others parted for him as Balin left the room...that is until he was in the midst of them. That was when Tardaesha made her move. Calling upon Asmodeus she raised her sword where she stood behind the knight, and brought it down upon his right shoulder, smiting with the power of Hell at her command. Sir Balin cried out as the blade found an opening at the joint of his armor plates and bit deeply into flesh and bone. He turned, bringing up his shield, which is when Kat drew both of her daggers and, now that his back was to her, drove them both into his flanks, piercing his kidneys.
"What base treachery is this!?" Balin cried out, rage and pain warring over his features.
He spun in a wide arc, his sword extended fully. The sheer power of his swing cut through Tardaesha's chain mail like it was nothing, and carried through into her chest. One lung ruptured, and blood frothed from between her lips as her eyes rolled up into her skull and she collapsed, insensate and bleeding out. Balin tore his weapon loose and, with a vicious thrust, plunged it into Roger's gut. The knight whirled back towards the others, his skin pallid from blood loss, staggering on his feet. His eyes widened when he saw Kelvin, his disguise dropped, standing right in front of him, his index finger pointed at Balin's head from less than six inches away.
"House Dannister always pays its debts!" the wizard snarled, and then he put three force missiles into Balin's skull.

___________________________________________________________________

Adrastus sat in his study seeming almost as if he had not moved an inch from where he had given his orders at dusk.
"You've returned," he said to his minions as Tiadora escorted them into the room.
They were battered and bloodied, but the most potentially lethal of their injuries had been tended to before they were brought before him. The half-orc, Roger, dragged the limp form of Sir Balin behind him. Kelvin came forward and presented the silver and sapphire pendant. The high priest held the trinket and paused as if in deep contemplation. He watched the holy symbol glitter in the light.
"A pretty enough thing, eh?" he mused. "This is the symbol of Iomedae, in particular the sort favored by the Knights of Alerion. Perhaps you already knew that. Remember it. This is the mark of those who destroyed our faith and sought to banish all trace of the worship of our Father from these shores. These, my friends, are your enemies."
He tossed the pendant back to Kelvin.
"Keep it," he said. "It may aid you in disguising yourself. Now, what else have you brought me?"
"Sir Balin yet lives," Kelvin said, "but only just. What would you have us do with him?"
Thorn arched an eyebrow. "Is mercy one of our virtues?"
Kelvin smiled thinly. "No, it is not."
He turned and drew the knight's own sword from its scabbard, and then slit Balin's throat with it.
Thorn smiled. "You have done well. Escaping from Branderscar, slaughtering Sir Balin...yes, you are worthy. Now, let us complete your training."
"There is...another matter...," Tardaesha wheezed, clutching her side painfully as she clung to Dakota. "The squire, Timeon. He remains in his hidey hole, awaiting our return."
"I pose to you the same question I did your brother," Thorn replied testily.
"And I agree whole-heartedly," she nodded. "However, Dakota and I would like to first try our hand at...conversion..."
The cardinal smiled. "Clever girls."

_________________________________________________________________

Over the next three months, Cardinal Thorn worked with each of his acolytes intensely, honing them into his perfect weapons. They were kept sequestered, though all of their physical needs were taken care of. Tiadora assisted in the training, and was revealed again and again as a cruel sadist who reveled in their failure and suffering. Their lessons were focused and never wasteful. They were drilled not only individually, but also as a team, forging them into a cohesive unit.

During this time, Tardaesha and Dakota pursued their own endeavors as well. Shortly after gaining Thorn's permission to do with Timeon what they would, the twins returned to the squire bearing a gift...Balin's head. The boy was horrified when they flung open the door to his hiding place and flung the gory tableau at him.
"Such is the fate of heretics," Tardaesha grinned down at him. "Now you have a choice, lover: convert or join your former master. I assure you, however, that if you make the wrong choice, your death will not be so quick and merciful as Sir Balin's"
As they closed the door back on him, leaving him in darkness with only Balin's head for company, Timeon wailed:
"Iomedae! Why have you forsaken me?!"

The next three months for Timeon were great peaks and valleys of tortuous agony, and mind-shattering ecstasy. The twin sisters could deliver pain and torture unmatched by few, but they could also reward with equal vigor, and this they did to and for the boy...over and over, unpredictably, and without rhyme nor reason, until he was driven to the very edge of sanity, and then ripped back again. Ultimately, though his faith was strong, Timeon was still just a boy, and a naive one at that. His will broke, and by the time Tardaesha and Dakota were done, he had sworn his undying fealty and devotion to both them and Asmodeus.

__________________________________________________________________

When their time of training had been declared complete, Adrastus pronounced them ready, and held a great banquet in their honor. He conferred upon them the title of his Nessian Knot in an infernal ritual that involved blood and fire. During the ritual, he summoned forth a barbed-skin devil and offered to it a slave chosen by the Knot. The fiend gleefully ripped the slave apart and feasted on his blood. Adrastus then drew forth some of the devil's blood with a silver athame. He traced the unholy symbol of Asmodeus on the foreheads of each of the Nessians in the mingled blood of fiend and sacrifice.

"Behold!" Thorn proclaimed. "The Nessian Knot is forged! And just in time! My ship has arrived."
On the river dock behind the manor house, under cover of darkness, a square-sailed longship sailed into the slip. It sat heavily in the water, laden with a substantial cargo.


I'd like to take a brief poll to see if anyone is following this thread. I post the same one on ENWorld, where I can see the views. Just trying to see if I need to keep posting here


I'm following your journal both here and over at Enworld (even though I actually don't like the AP as I don't get the appeal of playing a downright evil character). That said,your writing is as entertaining as in your previous campaign logs so I'm more than likely to keep readin' :-)


Monrail wrote:

I'm following your journal both here and over at Enworld (even though I actually don't like the AP as I don't get the appeal of playing a downright evil character). That said,your writing is as entertaining as in your previous campaign logs so I'm more than likely to keep readin' :-)

Thank you, Sir! We were skeptical of this campaign as well, but I tell you, it has really opened up the role-playing possibilities. Seems like it frees the players up to try things they wouldn't normally do. Everything doesn't boil down to "here's a monster/bad guy so roll initiative." With the antagonists being generally good-aligned, there is room for diplomacy, bluffing, intimidating on a much higher level.


22 Arodus, 4716 - 9 Rova, 4716 - The Voyage of the Frosthamar

ACT 3: FIRE AXE

When Elise Zadaria exited Cardinal Thorn's study, there was a distinctly sour expression on her face. When her gaze fell upon the members of the Nessian Knot standing outside the office she struggled visibly to wipe the expression away. That failed when she saw Kelvin's smirk. Scowling, she stalked down the stairs.
"The cardinal will see you know, dear ones," Tiadora said, motioning them through the door.

"Welcome, my children," Thorn said in a deep resonant voice that had an almost inhuman quality to it. "Training is at an end. You have proven yourselves worthy. Now it is time for you to use that training and take your first mission. Your mission is war, my apprentices. You will bring war to Talingarde. You have two objectives. First, you will see a shipment of munitions delivered to a bugbear chieftain named Sakkarot Fire-Axe. He makes his camp on the northern coast of Lake Tarik beyond the Watch Wall. With this shipment, the Fire-Axe will have resources enough to unite the barbarous humanoid tribes of the north and light the fire of war. Sitting on the dock as we speak is the longship Frosthamar, captained by Kargeld Odenkirk. Tomorrow, when the ship is resupplied, it will be your transport. The captain is a ruthless mercenary and not to be trusted. He knows nothing of the specifics of our mission and you should keep it that way. He knows he is smuggling cargo to the north beyond the Watch Wall. That is all he need know. Once the cargo is safely delivered, he will take you south across the lake under cover of darkness and land you near the town of Aldencross. There our contract with Captain Odenkirk will be concluded. It is a shame how greedy he has proven. I had hoped to let the captain serve me again, but it seems he is too much of a liability. Kill him. Kill his crew. Burn his ship and leave no survivors. It is crucial that no one suspect our involvement and that loose ends are taken care of. Be sure to reclaim the coin I gave him. Best not to be wasteful. That done, you will begin your second task. We will do more still to aid our ally the Fire-Axe. The bugbears are mighty warriors but poor siege engineers. You will infiltrate the tower Balentyne, keystone of the Watch Wall, kill its commander and open the gate for Sakkarot's horde. Once the shaggy monstrosities pierce the Watch Wall, the bugbears will pillage and lay waste to the townships of the north, and the local garrisons will have no choice but to meet the Fire-Axe in the open field. Sakkarot is the most brilliant, gifted and murderous bugbear of his generation. I expect these battles will go poorly for the knights and yeoman of fair Talingarde. Do all of this and then when your task is done, break this clay seal."
He handed them a delicately carved clay seal adorned with a tangled knot of thorns surrounding the holy symbol of Asmodeus.
"I will have more instructions then. Succeed and I will see you rewarded handsomely. Fail or betray me and you will pray for the comfort of Hell before I am done with you. The mission you start upon today is a holy mission. The people of Talingarde think they have seen the last of the mighty Asmodeus. Soon enough we will remind them that there is no escaping the grasp of Hell. Let us toast our success!"
He poured one glass of deep red wine for each member of the knot and then finally poured one for himself. He raised the glass and offered a toast.
"To war."

___________________________________________________________________

"What a happy coincidence and good fortune for us that this tower Balentyne just happens to be Timeon's home post!" Dakota beamed as she and Tardaesha packed their belongings for the trip.
"Asmodeus works in mysterious ways," her twin returned her smile. "That boy is a true treasure. Have you already sent him on his way?"
"He departed last night," Dakota nodded. "He will wait for us to contact him."
"Well done, little sister," Tardaesha slapped Dakota on the rump. "Now, let's talk about plans for this little voyage."

_____________________________________________________________________

The Frosthamar was a single-masted knarr with a square sail. It was similar to a longship, but wider and with a deeper hull better suited to carrying cargo, and the Frosthamar was obviously loaded with cargo. She sat heavy in the water, loaded with twenty-four tons of weaponry, arrows and shields, according to Tiadora. The captain was a grizzled north-man with a wiry beard, pale blonde hair and countless scars. His crew consisted of a half-dozen grim sailors who spoke little of the common Talirean tongue.

"You will guard our boat all the way north, yes?" Odenkirk asked as the members of the Knot boarded.
"That's correct," Kelvin replied.
"Then I will take you to the cursed north past hope and life," the captain grunted.
"Oh, you are quite the charmer, aren't you?" Tardaesha asked with a teasing smile as she let her fingers linger on Odenkirk's chest when she walked by.
Odenkirk watched her go with an appreciative stare, then grunted again, a half smile concealed by his beard.
________________________________________________________________________

The Frosthamar was a fine ship, but not one that catered to delicate sensibilities. It had no cabins, so the passengers had to sleep under the stars with the rest of the crew. There were no garderobes nor chamber pots. The crew simply relieved themselves over the railing. Tardaesha and Dakota had no problem with such exhibitionism, taking great delight in the leers of the sailors. Katarina was a bit more modest, requiring either Dorian of Kelvin to stand in front of her whenever nature called.

It took half a day for the Frosthamar to sail down the Varnyn River and out into the open ocean. It hugged the coast, and passed countless farming communities and fishing villages along the shore. More than a few fishermen waved as the vessel passed, and Odenkirk was always sure to wave back.
"Wouldn't want'em to get suspicious, eh?" he said with a glower.
He informed his guests that it would take the better part of a week before they saw the great city of Daveryn, the largest center of civilization along the east coast, off their port bow. He quickly squashed any talk of stopping there, however.
"This is no pleasure cruise," he growled. "Besides, I won't get our cargo within a mile of a Talirean harbormaster."

It was during that first week of sailing that Tardaesha took it upon herself to get to know the captain a bit better. It just so happened that she spoke Skald, the native tongue of Odenkirk and his crew, and this alone would have gotten the northman's attention, even if the lady's ample physical attributes hadn't. It wasn't long before she and the captain started disappearing below deck when all was quiet above. There, in the cramped confines of the overstuffed hold, Tardaesha taught a few new tricks to a man who thought he new just about everything there was to know about the doings between men and women. Not long after that, Dakota joined them, and though the younger sister had taken a technical vow of chastity, saving herself for the "right" man, that didn't stop her from teaching Odenkirk a few tricks of her own. Soon, the sisters learned of a private stash of whiskey that he kept for himself, as well as the location of the payroll box that he kept for his men. Good, honest work on their part.

_______________________________________________________________

When they were perhaps a day past Daveryn, about the time they were passing the Watch Wall, the crew and passengers of the Frosthamar ran into their first bit of trouble in the form of a Talirean patrol ship. 'The Blade of St. Martius,' was emblazoned along the ship's prow, and its course carried it towards a direct intercept of the larger vessel.
"She's seen us, sure as damnation," Odenkirk snarled. "And there is no way we'll outrun her loaded like this. One look at our cargo and they'll know us for exactly what we are...weapon smugglers."
"What do you suggest?" Tardaesha asked, one hand absently rubbing the back of the captain's neck.
"I'll be damned if they're taking my ship," Odenkirk snapped. "I say we heave to, wait for them to board, then kill them all."
"I like it," Tardaesha nodded. "And it may come to that, but I'd like to suggest an alternative. Allow my sister and me to try a more diplomatic approach first. You know how charming we can be. If that fails, then plan B goes into effect."

When the Talirean ship drew close enough, the sailors began shouting.
"Heave to in the name of the king!"
Odenkirk complied, and the captain of the other ship, along with four of his men, boarded the Frosthamar once they'd come alongside.
"I am Captain Edward Sambryl of the Royal Talirean Navy," the commander said brusquely. "Who is in charge here?"
"That'd be me," Odenkirk stepped forward and introduced himself.
"Your ship is riding quite low in the water, Captain," Sambryl said. "You are also a foreign vessel well north of civilized lands. Do you mind telling me what your cargo is, and where are you bound?"
Tardaesha took that moment to step forward. She had used the magic of her circlet to turn her hair almost white blonde, and her eyes deep blue. She had also altered her attire to that of a priestess of Iomedae. Beside her, Dakota had likewise changed her appearance, save that her hair was now dark, and her eyes darker. Her clothing identified her as an inquisitor of Iomedae's church. The other members of the Knot had disguised themselves as more of Odenkirk's sailors.
"Captain," Tardaesha said, addressing the Talirean as if speaking to an underling, "what is the meaning of this? I am Sister Katlyn, and this is Sister Ellise. We are on a holy mission for the church, delivering much-needed supplies to whaling colony up the coast."
Sambryl eyed her dubiously.
"I find that hard to believe, Sister," he replied. "Why would the church be involved in something so trivial?"
Dakota's eyes flared. "You dare to question an anointed member of the clergy!? Do not presume to speak on matters that do not concern you! There are missionaries stranded at that colony, and every day we are delayed means a chance that one or more of them may not survive! Perhaps you would like to explain to the Bishop in person why you allowed his favorite nephew to perish from privation and frost bite!?"
Sembryl's face paled visibly beneath Dakota's withering stare.
"I...I...apologize, Sisters," he bowed. "It's just that these waters are known to be frequented by smugglers and pirates, w...which you clearly are not! Please give the Bishop my regards, and be on your way."
He quickly gathered his men and boarded his ship. They detached from the Frosthamar and began to pull away. Odenkirk smiled broadly and smacked Dakota on her backside.
"Well done, 'Sister,'" he said, eyeing her appreciatively. "Remind me to thank you personally later on."

_______________________________________________________________

Dark had been Nerianus' dreams of late. A haunted triton oracle of Iomedae, Nerianus had always been regarded as mad by his tribe. He had foreseen that a great evil was coming, and had become convinced that only he could stop it. He gathered a small group of believers and their dolphin allies, and in the dead of night, moved to intercept the strange ship sailing their waters.

________________________________________________________________

Lemmy was freezing. To make matters worse, he was freezing on the deck of a ship! A ship that floated on water! A trifecta of bad luck on his part. He prowled the boat, grumbling to himself. Every night the captain anchored the Frosthamar, likely so he could spend more time fornicating with the Dannister wenches, Lemmy though darkly. So every night watch detail had to be shared. It was currently his and Roger's duty, along with the three sailors who tended the needs of the ship, alternating the work with their comrades after midnight. At least he had Roger to keep him company and swap war stories to pass the tedium of the long hours. The dwarf didn't know what on earth they were keeping watch for. It was black as pitch out there. Not like they would actually be able to see anything coming....

A scream sounded from behind him. Lemmy spun around, and froze in place, not quite grasping what he was seeing. One of the formerly sleeping sailors writhed on the deck, clutching one arm which hung at an odd angle. Looming over him was, for lack any better description, what appeared to be an animate column of water about the size of a donkey. As Lemmy stood staring, another of the...things...appeared as if out of thin air, right next to one of the sailors on watch. It surged towards the man, ramming into him and bull-rushing him towards the railing. Just then, a high-pitched whining sound went past Lemmy's ear, followed by a hollow thunk. He looked, and saw a quarrel protruding from the mast. More confused than ever, he turned back towards the railing, and in the water below saw several figures swimming about. There were a couple of ship fish leaping into the air, squealing and clicking as they breached. The other individuals were scaly, finned humanoids with athletic builds and blue green coloration. As they ducked and surfaced in the water, Lemmy could see that their legs ended in wide flippers rather than feet. Four of them held heavy crossbows, while a fifth grasped some sort of three-pronged spear. Lemmy didn't know what in the Hells he was looking at, nor did he much care. He flung out one hand and sent a bombardment of rocks at the nearest creature in the water, then began shouting at the top of his lungs to wake the others.

_________________________________________________________________

"Did you hear something?" Dakota asked sleepily, raising her head from Odenkirk's bare chest and looking across at her sister.
"Sounds like that loud-mouthed dwarf shouting about something," Tardaesha yawned, disentangling herself from the still-snoring captain. "Wakey, wakey, lover," she slapped his face gently. "I think we've got trouble."

___________________________________________________________________

Lemmy whirled and sent another geokinetic blast at the water creature trying to force the sailor over the side. At that moment, Dorian woke with a start and leaped to his feet, still sleep-addled.
"What's going on?" he asked blearily.
"Get down!" Lemmy warned, but it came too late.
With a twang from the water, a crossbow quarrel sprouted from the priest's shoulder, spinning him around. Across the deck, the second water-thing continued to rain blows down upon the still supine sailor with the broken arm. Kelvin lay with his eyes open, having heard Lemmy's warning. He rolled to his belly and spoke an incantation. Three glowing missiles streaked towards the elemental (for the wizard had quickly deduced what they were facing) Lemmy had bombarded, and as they struck the creature, it abruptly vanished.
'Summoned,' Kelvin thought to himself. 'Now where is the summoner?'
He didn't have a chance to find out, as another elemental appeared right next to him and, using one stubby, rudimentary arm, punched him in the stomach...hard.

The other sleeping sailors were rousing from their sleep, but as they rolled to their feet, the elementals smashed into them, leaving one staggering around like a drunkard. To make matters worse, more elementals continue to pop into existence around the deck, resulting in a chaotic melee from bow to stern of the Frosthamar. Suddenly, the hatch to the hold flew open and Captain Odenkirk emerged, naked as the day he was born, frothing at the mouth, and gripping a massive great-axe with both hands. He was closely followed by Tardaesha and Dakota, both clad in little more than their small clothes, but with weapons drawn.
"GET OFF MY SHIP!!" Odenkirk bellowed.
Heedless of his lack of any proper defenses, he waded out into the fray, swinging his axe like a mad man. Each time he connected, however, he completely obliterated an elemental.

"Well there's somethin' ya don't see every day," Lemmy grumbled to Roger.
"Let's just hope the ladies have him softened up a bit when it comes time to tie up loose ends," Roger replied.
Then they were moving again, trying to avoid being bowled overboard by the elementals, while at the same time dodging the crossbow bolts that continue whizzing through the air. Meanwhile, Katarina rushed to assist Kelvin, who was still on the ground, his arms held protectively over his head as he tried in vain to ward off the blows of the elemental assaulting him. As the creature turned towards the new threat, Kelvin finally managed to roll to his feet and staggered towards Dorian.
"Let me guess," the priest said, glancing over at his brother, "you need me to heal you. Is that all you think I'm good for?"
"Just shut up and get to it," Kelvin snarled through blood-frothed lips, not in the mood for his sibling's jokes.
Dorian drew his bone wand and tapped the wizard, beginning the infernal healing process.
"Try not to get hit again," he chided.
Kelvin just glared at him, and then began looking around at the fracas, trying to find Lemmy.
"Lemmy!" he called when he'd spotted the dwarf. "There's a summoner out there somewhere! See if you can find him and put a stop to this!"
Lemmy nodded and made his way back towards the rail, suffering a glancing blow from an elemental as he passed. He saw the fish men still swimming about, but noticed that four of them were surrounding the one with the pitchfork in a protective circle.
"There ya are," he grinned. "I gotcha now!"
He pointed towards the leader, and unleashed a blast. Nerianus recoiled in shock and pain as the fist-sized rocks pelted him. His followers returned fire at the dwarf, while the oracle began a prayer of sanctuary, designed to shield him from the mind's of his foes. Before he could complete the chant, however, a flash of light from the deck of the ship caught his eye a split-second before three bolts of energy struck his chest, burning and bruising his flesh. Worse, they broke his concentration, and the prayer was gone, wasted.

Kelvin grinned in triumph when he saw the effect his magic missiles had on the triton. While he was still disoriented, the young mage sent another salvo at him. This time the bolts struck the triton's head, and he went limp and sank beneath the waves. The other tritons looked stricken. They glanced hesitantly at the ship, and then caught their dolphins by their dorsals and dove under water.
"They're leaving!" Kelvin called over his shoulder to his comrades.
"These little bastards aren't!" Odenkirk shouted.
He destroyed another elemental that had Tardaesha backed into a corner, then Roger put an end to one that was sneaking up behind the captain while his back was turned. Gradually, the tide continued to turn in their favor. Even the sailors were able to take down one of the elementals by ganging up on it. Finally, the last one winked out of existence as Dorian channelled negative energy through its body.

"Who was on watch!?" Odenkirk raged once the deck was clear. "I'll have him keelhauled!"
"Yer welcome to try," Lemmy snarled back, clenching his fists, Roger at his back.
"There is no one to blame here," Kelvin interjected diplomatically. "These were summoned creatures. Their summoners were tritons. They live underwater and so were able to approach unseen and then conjure their minions directly in our midst, although why such creatures would take issue with us is a mystery. They are generally goodly individuals who are not known to waylay travelers."
"Well, whatever their reason, they failed and it's over now," Tardaesha said, taking Odenkirk's hand and leading him back towards the hold. "I'm sure this will all seem like a bad dream in the morning."

__________________________________________________________________

"We're a little light on fresh water, I think," Odenkirk said, scratching his beard idly.
He was standing at the bow with Tardaesha by his side, gazing at the nearby coast. "We're passing Seal Isle and there's a stream that feeds into the bay there. We'll take on water there. I'll send a party to shore. Of course that means we'll spend a day in some of the richest fur seal hunting grounds all along this coast. I'm thinking of organizing a hunting expedition. Interested?"
Tardaesha glanced sidelong at him.
"My brother Dorian is a priest," she said. "With his prayers, he can create fresh water at will. I see no need to waste any more time."
Odenkirk's face turned beet red.
"Dammit woman!" he snapped, turning on her. "You may have your uses and talents, but this is my godsdamned boat, and I'll do whatever I damned well please!"
He stomped off across the deck, his men staring after him. Tardaesha continued to stare out at the sea, a faint smile playing across her lips.
"We'll see," she murmured.

It took half the day more of sailing to reach the isle's harbor, but even as they drew close, the amount of seals they saw frolicking in the waves was astounding. Odenkirk lowered anchor and sent a dingy ashore with a couple of sailors. He and two other sailors then boarded a second dingy.
"If any of you are want to come along, there's one more dingy," he said.
"I think Dakota and I will stay here," Tardaesha smiled. "Salt water is terrible for our hair."
"I'm stayin' too," Lemmy growled. "A big boat's bad enough. Ain't no way I'm gettin' on a smaller one."
Kelvin, Roger, Dorian and Kat, however, seemed eager to join the hunt. They piled into the last boat and began rowing after the captain.
"I hope you know," Tardaesha said, speaking Skald as she turned to one of the remaining sailors, "that your captain is raping my sister and I every night. He says if we don't allow it, he'll have us thrown overboard. This is the kind of man you serve."
The sailor just shrugged.
"You're salt wives," he said. "Cap'n can do what he wants, long as he pays in gold."
He went about his business.
"So much for a mutiny," Tardaesha whispered to her sister.

___________________________________________________________________

Dorian had to admit, he was actually enjoying himself. A bit of a sadist at heart, he took pleasure in clubbing the seals who, out of curiosity, swam up alongside the dingy. So far he and his crew had managed to take five of them. Not a bad haul considering Odenkirk's band had only killed two. He felt a bump underneath the hull of the boat.
"Looks like we have another one," he said gleefully.
The bump came again, but this time it was much more forceful, rocking the dingy violently from side to side.
"Seems like a big one," Roger said. "Brace yourselves. I think its breaching."
Something surfaced, alright, but it was no seal. Instead it looked to be a disturbing combination of seal and shark, with brown fur and a wide mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. It came up right under the boat, heaving it into the air on its broad back, and capsizing it. Roger and the Dannisters went flying into the surf.

Dorian landed near the overturned boat and was able to grab the keel and hang on. Kelvin and Roger fell nearby, but still close enough to swim and grab on as well. Only Kat was not so fortunate, and even worse for her, she was a poor swimmer. An errant wave crashed into her as she struggled to tread water, causing her to gag and choke, her head dipping beneath the surface. That's when she saw the creature that had rammed them circling below her. Suddenly, it surged upwards, it's jaws gaping, and clamped onto Kat's leg. It took everything she had not to scream underwater and lose what precious little breath was still in her lungs. She drew her dagger from her belt and began stabbing madly at the beast, hoping it would at least let her go.

"You see that!?" Lemmy shouted, pointing out at the capsized dingy.
"I see it," Tardaesha said, her lips tight. "Didn't you ask Tiadora to procure a flying elixir for you?"
"Yeah," Lemmy said, "but I was savin' it case I ended up in the drink."
"I'll owe you," Tardaesha snapped. "Give it to me."
Reluctantly, the dwarf did, and she quickly upended it, quaffing the bitter drink. Concentrating, she rose into the air, and after a moment to get her bearings, soared out over the waves towards her siblings and Roger.

Kelvin saw blood frothing in the water and violent thrashing at the spot where Kat had gone under. Cursing, he used his free hand to cast a spell, conjuring a glowing orb of electricity, which he then directed towards the back of the sea creature as it tossed and rolled. When the orb stuck, blue lightning crackled across the monster, and it released Kat, wheeling away to consider another pass. She tried to struggle to the surface, but she was bleeding profusely, and her leg wouldn't quite do what she wanted it to. She glanced below and saw the predator coming towards her again. She slashed down with her dagger, desperately trying to keep it at bay. It flinched but didn't back off that time. It opened its maw again and rushed her. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the inevitable, but suddenly, she felt herself being lifted. She felt hands beneath her armpits, and her eyes popped open. She turned her head and saw Tardaesha behind her. The monster was swimming after them, not wanting to let its prey escape. Her sister extended one hand and a flash of black energy leaped towards the beast. It roared and veered off. Then they were out of the water, rising up into the air.
"No!" Kat cried. "Put me down! The others are still back there! We can't leave them!"
"Be still!" Tardaesha snapped. "In case you haven't noticed, you're bleeding to death! I'm getting you to safety then I'll go back for them!"
Directly below, Kat saw Odenkirk's boat, headed towards the overturned dingy. Tardaesha swept in low and dropped Kat into the boat, then turned and flew back towards Roger and her brothers.

Roger watched Kat and Tardaesha fly away with mixed feelings. He was glad Katarina wasn't dead, but he resented being abandoned. He looked around, trying to spot the beast beneath them. He needn't have bothered. The creature surfaced, it's mouth wide, and raked its fangs across his chest. Luckily, his mail held, but the sheer force of the bite felt like it may have cracked a rib. Kelvin, thinking quickly, called his electrical orb back to the surface and sent it at the beast again. It screeched in pain, then rolled on its back, floating limply. Roger quickly scrambled atop the hull of the boat and pulled Dorian up behind him. Kelvin moved to follow, but something grabbed him around the waist. He didn't even have time to register the pain as he was shaken violently from side to side, seized in the jaws of another of the beasts like a salmon snapping up a dragonfly.
"No!" Roger shouted.
He fumbled his sword from its sheath and slashed down at the creature, opening a huge rent in its blubbery hide. Then, he heard a sharp swishing sound, and an arrow miraculously sprouted from the thing's back. Roger looked up and saw, well over a hundred feet in the distance, Dakota standing at the rail of the Frosthamar, her bow in hand. Next to her was Lemmy, his hands outstretched. Unbelievably, rocks flew out of his hands, covering the incredible distance like they were flung from a trebuchet. They pelted the creature with tremendous force, and it reared back, preparing to dive again. Before it had the chance, however, Roger gripped the hilt of his sword in both hands and drove the blade straight down through the top of its skull. It went limp and heaved over, nearly tearing the half-orc's weapon from his hands.

________________________________________________________________

While the sailors righted the overturned dingy, Odenkirk helped Roger and Tardaesha bring Kelvin aboard his boat, where Dorian set about tending his wounds as well as Kat's.
"Never thought there'd be bunyips in these waters," the captain mused, staring at the floating corpses.
Tardaesha glared at him.
"Do you have what you came here for?" she asked tightly.
Odenkirk smiled at her.
"Now, now, don't be mad, sweetheart. No permanent harm done. Your people are alive, and we bagged over three-hundred gold worth of seal pelts. Not a bad day's work if you ask me. I think we'll spend a couple more days here."
Tardaesha stared for a moment more, then nodded once before turning back to her siblings.
'Just a little longer,' she told herself. 'Then we'll really see what a good day's work looks like.'

Sovereign Court

Joseph Jolly wrote:
Monrail wrote:

I'm following your journal both here and over at Enworld (even though I actually don't like the AP as I don't get the appeal of playing a downright evil character). That said,your writing is as entertaining as in your previous campaign logs so I'm more than likely to keep readin' :-)

Thank you, Sir! We were skeptical of this campaign as well, but I tell you, it has really opened up the role-playing possibilities. Seems like it frees the players up to try things they wouldn't normally do. Everything doesn't boil down to "here's a monster/bad guy so roll initiative." With the antagonists being generally good-aligned, there is room for diplomacy, bluffing, intimidating on a much higher level.

"Evil will always triumph over Good because Good is dumb."

- Kelvin Dannister


9 Rova, 4716 - 11 Rova, 4716: Endings and Beginnings

The Frosthamar put out to sea once more the following morning. They were now well north of the Watch Wall, and Odenkirk estimated that they would reach the headwaters of the River Taiga by the next day. About noon, one of the sailors spotted a group of small boats hugging the coast headed towards the ship. Closer inspection revealed three one-man kayaks and a larger, open, seal-skinned canoe with four men rowing. As they drew near, one of the men in the larger boat hailed them in broken Common.
"Yutak," Odenkirk said as he stood at the rail watching the smaller vessels approach. "Native northern tribesman. They hold no love for the Talireans. Probably looking to trade."
"Hail travelers!" an older man in the large canoe called. "I Joseph Calls-Fire-From-Water! This White Tusk, Chief!"
He indicated a younger, muscular man seated beside him.
"We trade!" Joseph continued. "We have much ivory, and this!"
He made a gesture and one of the oarsmen unwound a tarp from around a large bundle, revealing a gleaming, spiraled ivory horn at least eight-feet in length.
"She's a beauty," Odenkirk whistled. "What do you take in trade?"
"Metal spears," Joseph replied, "and Talirean clothing. Fine clothing. White Tusk like."

"Sister," Kelvin leaned close to Tardaesha and whispered in Shadowtongue, "can you tell if any of these primitives are of a goodly bent?"
Tardaesha smiled and concentrated for a moment.
"Negative," she replied.
"Pity," the wizard shrugged.
"Tell me, Captain," Dorian, standing near Odenkirk, addressed the man in his native tongue, "how would you feel if we just slaughtered these people and took all that they had?"
Odenkirk looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed.
"The Yutak are famous for their family loyalty," he replied, "and infamous for their vendettas. They hold grudges for a long time. Me and my crew won't take any part in that, but we won't stand in your way either."
Dorian looked to his siblings, and Kelvin shook his head.
"Very well," the priest muttered. "Best not to raise suspicion, I suppose. Send them on their way, Captain. We have no interest in local trinkets."
Odenkirk thanked the Yutak, but told them they had nothing to trade at this point. The tribesman looked disappointed, but turned their boats around and headed back to shore.

__________________________________________________________________

Roger and Lemmy drew fire watch again that night as the ship lay at anchor, and were more miserable than usual. A cold snap had come in and the temperature had plummeted well below freezing. Ice rime had begun to form on the rigging, and intermittent snow flurries had given way to fat flakes and biting winds. The crew had lit several torches to provide both light and warmth in the freezing darkness. Lemmy didn't think it helped. As he stood contemplating the misery of his existence, the cold night was split by the sound of inhuman laughter coming from somewhere near the top of the mast. Lemmy looked up and saw a small creature perched in the crow's nest. It was thin, with leathery wings, small horns and a cruel smile.
"You shouldn't be here, mortals!" the creature called down. "You shouldn't interfere with beautiful, glorious cold!"
The little beast flung out one bluish/white hand and pointed at Lemmy. Instantly, a glaze of ice began to form on the dwarf's armor, causing the metal to become painfully cold where it touched his flesh.
"You ain't seen interferin' yet!" Lemmy snarled back through chattering teeth.
He pointed his own hand back up at the little fiend and sent a blast of rocky debris at it. The barrage struck the creature, almost knocking it from its perch.

"What's going on now?" Dorian asked testily and groggily from where he'd been bundled in his bedroll, back to back with Katarina to preserve body heat.
"No idea," Kat mumbled, climbing to her feet and rubbing her eyes. "Dwarf's yelling about something again."
Just then, one of the sailors on duty pointed towards the far side of the deck, his eyes wide.
"Ice devils! he shouted, and began fleeing towards the bow in blind panic.
Kat looked to see what had frightened the man so, and saw what appeared to be bipedal blocks of ice climbing over the rails, at least four of them. The other sailors tried to scrabble away from them, but as they did so, the creatures slammed club-like arms into them, leaving frost-bitten flesh wherever they connected.

Lemmy tried to leap aside as the nasty little imp sent a burst of the same kind of little missiles that Kelvin was so fond of streaking towards him, but they still hit him head on, sending him tumbling head over heels. Growling deep in his chest, he rolled to his feet and unleashed another geokinetic blast. The creature shrieked, and this time it did lose its hold and tumbled bonelessly down to the deck where it struck with a sickening thud and lay unmoving.

Though she'd just woken up, Kat still moved with the quickness and grace of her namesake. She somersaulted behind one of the ice things and drove her knife into what she hoped was a vital spot. The damned thing didn't have any sort of normal anatomy for her to judge by. Nearby, Dorian had managed to gather his wits about him enough to send a spray of flames from his fingertips at another of the beasts, melting off a significant portion of its body. It gave a totally alien scream, and lumbered into the priest in a pain-filled rage, shouldering him aside. On the far side of the deck, Roger sparred with a third elemental, trying to keep it away from the sailors (he needed them to sail the ship, after all), but it managed to duck under his swinging blade and drive a fist into his belly. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he staggered back, dropping his defenses. The ice creature advanced on him, raising both arms, but before it could strike, it suddenly exploded into a thousand pieces. Roger looked up and saw Lemmy standing in the midst of the ruined thing, his fingers smoking. The dwarf just grinned and reached down a hand to help his friend to his feet.

Kelvin had taken a few moments longer than his siblings to come fully awake, but now the he was, he didn't waste any time. He sent magic missiles at the pair of elementals Kat and Dorian had already injured, shattering them on impact. Then, after Kat threw one of her daggers and impaled the last one, he fired another salvo into that one, destroying it as well. A moment later Odenkirk emerged from the hold, once again naked, with Tardaesha and Dakota following closely behind, still rubbing sleep from their eyes.
"What's all this, then?" the captain asked, looking around at the mess.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Kelvin smiled humorlessly. "Seems like our fires attracted the attention of an ice mephit and its elemental friends. No more than we could handle."
Odenkirk nodded and grunted.
"Strong work," he said, and then slipped an arm around the waist of each of the ladies and disappeared below once more.

_______________________________________________________________

By mid-morning of the following day, the Frosthamar finally arrived at the ice-choked entrance to the Rive Taiga. Kargeld proved himself a worthy captain as he nimbly sailed the heavily-laden ship through fields of floating, jagged bergs. He barked orders in Skald, and his sailors scrambled to comply. Again and again he turned the boat at just the right moment to pass between the broken shards calved from ancient glaciers. After several nerve-wracking hours of this, the boat pushed through the dangerous headwaters and into the clear flow of the almost-uncharted mighty river. The Taiga wound through a land of savage wonder, a great northern forest that, to the best of anyone's knowledge, had no name. After many miles of picturesque pine trees frosted with new-fallen snow, the ship came to a great mountain range. The river flowed through a large rift in the mountains that looked as if some impossibly huge primordial giant had smashed a pass through the grey slate. The Frosthamar was headed due south at that point, though that had no effect on lessening the intense cold. They eventually arrived at the great interior sea of Talingarde, Lake Tarik. South of that sat the Watch Wall, while on the northern banks, in a wide wooded valley, was their destination...the camp of Sakkarot Fire-Axe.

Thousands of bugbears were already assembled there, but worse, there were more than just bugbears in the camp. The occasional polar bear lumbered around the camp untended, while fur-clad goblins scampered here and there, laughing with frenetic glee, and even a few giants gathered at the camp's fringes. There was only one place to dock the boat, a crudely made pier that jutted out into the river. Standing on the pier as the Froshamar pulled in were four hulking bugbears who seemed none-to-pleased to see the ship. As the crew tied off the mooring lines, the big brutes yammered among themselves in their own tongue...a tongue Lemmy just happened to speak.
"They ain't the friendly sort," the dwarf muttered to his companions. "Seems they're thinkin' 'bout eatin' us soft, squishy sorts before the Fire-Axe gets here to claim all the tasty bits."
"Well, let's show them just what sort of heartburn they're in for," Roger grinned.
Lemmy hopped on the rail and cupped his hands to his mouth.
"Hey! Furballs!" he shouted in the bugbear/goblin speech. "You wanna piece of us? Come get it!"
The four brawlers laughed raucously and began stalking forward, great-clubs resting on their shoulders. Just then, Roger leaped over the rail and landed on the pier in front of them. The look in his eyes was pure murder. He raised his great-sword over his head, and then drove its point deep into the planks, leaving it there quivering upright. Then he slowly drew one thumb across his throat in an unmistakable gesture, and pointed towards the bugbears. They looked hesitantly at one another, and then back at the hulking half-orc in his full plate armor. With subdued growls and many backwards glances, they turned and lumbered away, slump-shouldered.

By that time, a crowd of bugbear onlookers had gathered around the far end of the pier, anticipating bloodshed and mayhem. Abruptly, they parted as a great, black-furred bugbear came forward gripping an axe wreathed in flame in one hand. He stopped a dozen feet from Roger and pointed the axe towards him.
"Who sent you?" he demanded in unaccented Common.
"Cardinal Adrastus Thorn," Roger replied. "We come bearing gifts."
The bugbear smiled a toothy grin.
"Then you are welcome here!" he shouted.
He turned to the somewhat stunned throng behind him.
"These humans are my guests!" he growled. "I will deal with anyone who harms them! They are our allies!"
He walked to the boat and ripped open of the crates, revealing finely made axes within. He tossed one to the nearest bugbear warrior.
"Behold!" the Fire-Axe proclaimed to his folk. "They bring us steel!"
This resulted in a terrifying chorus of growls and cheers from the monstrous assembly, after which they set about unloading the boat. The chief's lieutenants saw that each case was distributed, and soon a visible transformation came over the camp. Where once there were a thousand bugbear savages, now there were a thousand bugbear soldiers, each with new weapons and shields adorned with the emblem of the Fire-Axe. What a terror the Knot had helped to create...

_____________________________________________________________________

Sakkarot Fire-Axe held a feast in honor of the weapons shipment and their new allies. It was a brutal, savage affair, with bugbears fighting each other, and all manner of monsters in attendance. The highlight of the party was when a great, shaggy dire boar was brought in in shackles. One ton of angry pig was led in by a dozen bugbears, who dragged the beast before Sakkarot. The Fire-Axe proceeded to behead the already wounded animal in one mighty stroke with his weapon. The beast was then spitted and roasted in a great open pit.

Eventually, as the raucous bestial festivities died down, Sakkarot stood from the table and summoned the members of the Knot to follow him to his private quarters. He dismissed his guards as he strode inside the tent, then sat heavily among several cushions, gesturing for his guests to join him.
"You are traitors to your own kind," he began without preamble. "You must know that. When Balentyne falls and my horde pours through its shattered gates, we will slaughter Talireans by the thousands. Yet I see no regret in your eyes. Tell me how this can be?"
"Easy," Lemmy answered, rolling up his sleeve and displaying the brand emblazoned there. "Our own kind left us to rot in prison, sentenced to death for so-called crimes. I say let'em burn."
Sakkarot nodded, and then pulled aside his own great breast-plate, revealing the holy symbol of Asmodeus burned into his chest.
"We all have our scars," he said. "In any event, tomorrow you must depart this camp. It will never by truly safe for you here. Over the next week, more tribes will rally to my banner. I will promise them blood and give them steel. Then, at last I will be ready to march. A week after that I will be poised to strike. I will move my horde to the valley just north of Balentyne. There we will wait for your signal. Fire this rocket into the air. Within the hour, we will attack. Make sure that the way is ready. After we gather, my horde will be idle and start to grow anxious. I can hold them together for another two weeks. After that, I expect desertions and squabbling. Get your work done before then. You have one month to infiltrate and destroy Balentyne"
Sakkarot reached behind him and produced a single carefully wrapped signal rocket. Suddenly, the bugbear warlord became very serious and stern. He stared straight into their eyes.
"Can you do this?" he asked. "In one month can you break the Watch Wall?"
"By Asmodeus, I give you my word," Roger replied grimly. "We will succeed or perish in the attempt."
Sakkarot grunted and nodded.
"Thorn has faith in you," he said. "If you weren't his best he wouldn't have sent you. Do this and your names will be legend. Now go. Hail Asmodeus!"

___________________________________________________________________

The next day, Captain Odenkirk was more than anxious to leave the bugbear camp. Already he had seen bugbear warriors eyeing his ship, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they built up the courage to attack. He made no secret of his lack of faith in Sakkarot's word.
"Look in that one's eyes," he said to Tardaesha. "He's smart. Always plotting. Bugbears shouldn't be smart. I'm not getting paid enough for this. If you and your lot aren't ready to go by dusk, I'm pulling out without you. Mark my word!"
"Don't worry, love," Tardaesha kissed his cheek. "When all of this is behind us, Cardinal Thorn will see to it that you are justly rewarded with all that you deserve."

As the sun began to set, the Frosthamar set out once more, crossing the mist-shrouded Lake Tarik under cover of darkness. They made the southern shore of the lake a few hours later and dropped anchor.
"Well, I'm afraid this is where we part ways, my beauties," Odenkirk said, his arms around Tardaesha and Dakota. "I must say, I'm sorry to see you go. I always have room on my crew for able bodies such as yours. Don't suppose you'd reconsider whatever nonsense Thorn has you up to?"
Tardaesha smiled. "No so easily done, love. But what say we celebrate our friendship and break open a bottle of those spirits you have stashed below?"
Odenkirk considered this for a moment, and then nodded.
"Why not?" he shrugged. "One for the road, but then I'm off. I want to put as much distance between me and this place as possible. You're no more than a couple of hours walk from the town of Aldencross from here, and it sits not more than a mile or so from Tower Balentyne."

Odenkirk went into the hold and returned a few minutes later bearing a dusty bottle. The crew cheered to see it. He popped the cork and prepared to upend it, when Kat snatched it from his hand.
"Barbarians," she shook her head. "My father employed some of the finest somaliers to stock our wine cellars. You have to let a good vintage breath for a moment first."
The captain glared at her for moment, then waved her off.
"Also," Katarina continued, "it is a poor host who does not first offer a toast to his guests."
She handed the bottle back to Odenkirk, him none-the-wiser of the generous amount of arsenic powder she'd slipped inside.
"A toast then!" He lifted the bottle high. "To wine, women and gold!!"
His men roared their approval. Odenkirk took a long swig, then passed the bottle on to his men. Each member of the Knot put the bottle to their lips as well, but none of them drank. The captain also took no notice of the fact that his passengers had arranged themselves strategically around the deck. By the time the first of the sailors began to vomit violently, it was too late.

Kat got the party started by flicking a palmed dagger into the throat of the nearest sailor. The man sagged, choking on his own blood and vomit. Two other sailors, a little quicker on the uptake than their brethren, saw the knife sticking out of his neck and put two-and-two together. They drew short swords from their belts, but instead of going for Katarina, they rushed at Lemmy and Dorian, having seen the two of them in action before, and knowing how dangerous they could be. Dorian squealed as one of the crewmen struck him a glancing blow, and Lemmy grunted as the second one tagged him, but fortunately his armor deflected the brunt of it. Dorian took several steps away from the men, then spread his hands wide and sent a cone of flames washing over them. They screamed as their clothes caught fire, but Roger quickly put one out of his misery, while Lemmy blasted the other and sent him careening over the railing.

"You b~###es!!" Odenkirk screamed, his beard bristling, his face red as a beet.
He rushed forward, his great-axe clenched in his meaty fists. Before he'd taken two steps, however, Kelvin threw a spell, coating the haft of the axe in an oily liquid. It slipped from the captain's hands and clanged to the deck at his feet. Snarling, he bent to retrieve it, but could not get a grip on the greasy wood. Katarina took the opportunity to move up behind him, while Roger stepped in front. Kat slammed a dagger into Odenkirk's back. As he straightened, crying out in pain and rage, Roger grabbed him by the neck with one hand and channeled the dark, corrupting power of his faith into the man's flesh. Furious, Odenkirk broke free of the half-orc's grip and whipped a throwing axe from his belt. Kat rammed her dagger home again, but then cried out as one of the sailors managed to flank her and slashed open her back with his own blade. The captain raised the hand-axe to finish her off, but Roger struck first, cutting down with his great-sword and nearly separating Odenkirk's arm at the shoulder. Stunned and reeling, he turned clumsily, unsteady on his feet.
"Goodbye, Captain," Kelvin said as he pumped magic missiles into his chest. "Nothing personal. It's just business."

Odenkirk fell, as did the sailor who'd attacked Kat when Dorian sent a bolt of fire through his chest. The remaining two sailors threw down their weapons and fell to their knees, begging for mercy. Roger and Lemmy granted it to them by giving them swift deaths. The Knot then proceeded to loot the Frosthamar, taking Odenkirk's sea chest and the 6,000 gold coins it held, as well as the seal furs he'd collected, before putting the ship to the torch with the bodies of its captain and crew still aboard.

_________________________________________________________________

They were close now. Just a few miles away lay the small market town of Aldencross, and less than a mile from there was the watchtower Balentyne...their ultimate goal. Already Sakkarot's horde gathered and prepared to move. Within two weeks, they would be in a small valley north of the lake awaiting the signal. Firing the rocket into the air at just the right moment, and the members of the Ninth Knot would take the first step towards claiming vengeance against Talingarde. Destiny had brought them there. Destiny had given them a mission. There was no doubt that the future of that green and pleasant land lay in their hands. They could go to that town right then and warn them of the plots of the sinister Cardinal Thorn. They could give themselves up and face the justice they deserved. They could turn back from the horror and slaughter they were going to inflict upon those Iomedean sheep. That was the moment. That was the turning point. After that, there was no going back. Was there one of them eager for redemption?
No. Of course not. And so off they went. They had work to do. They must burn Balentyne.

_____________________________________________________________

The journey to Aldencross from the lake shore was a short and uneventful one. It was almost midnight when they arrived, and the small town was quiet, its inhabitants mostly asleep for the night. Still, there was a single inn in the village, and its lights blazed, the sounds of laughter and music coming from within. So it was that a band of road-weary travelers entered the Lord's Dalliance.

The innkeeper looked up from the bar when the door opened. Aldencross was a market town, and it was not rare for traders to come from all over to peddle their goods there. Even the odd adventurer bound for the savage north was not unknown. So when Bellam Barhold saw the band composed of a robed elf, a smiling dwarf, three comely women, a priest and a human sell-sword, he thought little of it.
"Evening strangers!" he called out. "What can I do you for?"
"We're in need of rooms," the elf replied in a smooth, cultured voice.
"How long are you in town for?" Barhold asked.
"Until our business is complete," Kelvin, the elf, replied with a smile.
"Oh?" the barkeep asked curiously. "What sort of business you in?"
"We're scouting new trade routes in this area for a small merchant consortium," said Kelvin. "We may be staying a couple of weeks."
"Excellent!" Barhold grinned. "Glad to have you. Always good to have new business in town. Rooms are 2 gold per night, and that includes two meals a day."
"Two gold?" Katarina asked in disbelief. "You could stay in one of the finer inns in Daveryn for that!"
"Aye," Barhold smiled, "but this ain't Daveryn, and in case you haven't noticed, spare rooms are hard to come by out here on the frontier. Costs money to have supplies shipped here from the larger cities. A man's got to make a living."
"My associate is just weary from the road," Kelvin soothed. "Your price is a fair one."
"I see you serve quite a few soldiers here," Kat observed, ignoring Kelvin, who shot her an annoyed glance.
"That we do, little lady," Barhold nodded. "Balentyne Tower's close by. Lots of military folk rely on the town for good and...er...services."
"Indeed," Kat threw him a wink. "It so happens that I have some small talent in dancing, and I even perform a bit of sleight of hand."
She reached out and pulled a silver piece from behind the innkeeper's ear. Barhold smiled broadly.
"So you can!" he laughed. "If your dancing's as entertaining, then I might can knock my price down a bit for you. Ha! You might even consider joining up with Ye Merry Men when they hit town in a few days."
"Ye Merry Men?" Kat asked.
"Aye," Barhold nodded. "An acting troupe. Led by the Bard of Barrington himself! They're playing the Great Hall of Balentyne."
"Fascinating," Kat smiled again. "Perhaps I'll audition. Until then, I think I can keep your patrons entertained."

Barhold was correct. Though there were a few locals in the common room, there were more off-duty soldiers present, gambling, drinking, and enjoying the attention of the barmaids. Kelvin stood casually behind a group who were dicing, nodding approvingly at each victory.
"Your pardon, gentlemen," he cleared his throat at a pause in the game.
The soldiers looked up at him, smirking slightly at the foppish elf dressed in clean, white robes.
"My companions and I are new in town," he said.
"You don't say!" one of the soldiers laughed, and his friends joined in.
"Yes, well," Kelvin smiled indulgently, "as it just so happens, we have an acquaintance stationed at your garrison. Are you familiar with a young squire named Timeon?"
The soldiers glanced among themselves, sobering a bit.
"Yeah," one of them nodded. "We know Timeon. He's one of Captain Eddarly's men. Just returned from an assignment that went bad. Nasty business."
"Yes, I had heard something of the sort," Kelvin tsked sympathetically. "We are friends of his family, and we thought that it might help him to see some friendly faces. Would you kindly pass a message on to him? Tell him that the twins are in town, and staying at the inn. An old inside joke. He'll get the reference."
"Sure we will," the soldier said. "Say...is that dwarf with you a new recruit for the engineers?"
Kelvin cocked his head. "Now that you mention it, he did say something about that, but I wasn't sure what he was talking about."
"Yeah," the soldier elaborated, "Master Eisenbauch's had a crew of ten dwarves up at the Tower every day for months now. They're working on refurbishing the gatehouse. Says it might take years!"
"You don't say," Kelvin nodded. "I'll let my friend know. Are they staying at the Tower?"
"Nah," the soldier said. "They're staying here in the inn. Surprised they're not down here. They can drink any of us under the table. Must have had a long day."

The members of the Knot fanned out among the patrons, joining in on conversations here and there, but doing more listening than talking. As was their wont, soldier's liked to gossip, worse than old women in a knitting circle. So it was that the Nessians gathered several useful bits of information..
"They say bugbears are massing up north," one particularly boisterous guard declared. "I wonder what they're up to? Well, it doesn't matter! We'll be ready for'em! You'd think those shaggy walking carpets would have learned by now that the Watch Wall is unbreakable!"
"Do you know how the Lord's Dalliance got it's name?" another soldier asked Kat, who was seated upon his knee. "It was once a brothel! I hear there used to be a secret passage in the basement that allowed the Lord of the Watchtower to sneak in here and have a good time. Of course it must have been sealed up years ago."
"That Mad Martin is a strange one!" opined one old-timer deep in his cups. "He tends the rookery at the Watchtower, you know? They say he never leaves except for necessities. He talks to the birds like people and has named every one!"
"I've heard that Father Donnagin was sent here after the church demoted him from bishop," one lad whispered conspiratorially to Dorian. "He got into some sort of trouble...serious trouble I'd wager to be banished to the Watch Wall."
"Soldiers today!" a churlish local complained to Roger. "A worthless, shiftless lot! Balentyne is in total disarray. Soldiers today are too lazy. Not like in my day."

Ah yes, it proved to be a very lucrative and fruitful evening.

___________________________________________________________________

The following morning, Timeon arrived at the inn bright and early. Tardaesha and Dakota made a show of greeting him and making over him in the common room, eliciting quite a few sly winks and smirks from the patrons. He blushed appropriately and offered to show the ladies around town. They accepted and strolled out with him, one on each arm.

"What are you doing here!?" he asked when they were out of earshot of curious listeners.
"It's quite the tale," Tardaesha smiled. "What a coincidence that our current business should bring us to your posting!"
"Yes...," Timeon said uncertainly.
"Suffice it to say that great things are happening in this isolated corner of the kingdom," Dakota said. "We need you to be our eyes and ears inside Balentyne. We have already gathered some intelligence from local nattering, but we need more. Much more."
"In two weeks time," Tardaesha took up the narrative, "Balentyne Tower will fall."
Timeon gasped aloud.
"Now, now, my dear," Tardaesha chided, "you must keep up appearances. War is coming to Talingarde, and we shall be its fomenters. What can you tell us of the garrison and its defenses, in generalities?"
It took the squire a moment to regain his composure.
"Well," he said at length, "our garrison consists of one-hundred soldiers, broken down into four companies, each under the charge of a captain."
"Who are these captains?" Dakota asked.
"Varning, Barhold, Mott and Eddarly," Timeon said. "I'm in Captain Eddarly's company."
"Barhold?" Tardaesha asked. "Like the innkeeper?"
"His brother," Timeon nodded, "though I don't think they're close."
"What else?" Dakota prodded.
"Lord Commander Havelyn is over all," Timeon continued. "Then there's the magsiter, Tacitus, and Father Donnagin. He has six acolytes working under him as well."
"I'll bet he does," Dakota grinned wickedly.
"What's this we hear about the raven keeper?" Tardaesha asked.
"Oh him," Timeon smiled. "Martin Rayard. We call him 'Mad' Martin."
"These ravens," Tardaesha asked. "What are they used for?"
"Delivering messages long distance," Timeon explained. "They're vital for communications."
"Is that so?" Dakota asked. "Interesting."
"Very much so," Tardaesha agreed. "Well, I realize we cannot keep your from your duties for long, nor can you be seen spending over much time with us, but rest assured, we will be in touch. Be ready at all times."

___________________________________________________________________

That evening, the common room of the Lord's Dalliance was even more raucous, thanks largely to the band of dwarves hammering back pint after pint at a large corner table. Lemmy was delighted. He wasted no time in sauntering over and introducing himself.
"Smith's the name," he said, slamming his own pint down, "Leonard Smith. Which one of you's Eisenbauch?"
"That'd be me," a burly, gray-bearded dwarf stood.
"Damn glad to meet'cha!" Lemmy stuck out his hand. "Heard you an' your crew was doin' some repairs up the Tower."
"Yeah," Eisenbauch replied, his eyes narrowed, "what of it?"
"Just so happens I got me a knack for engineerin' work," Lemmy grinned. "Gonna be in town fer a spell an' thought I might pick up some side work with your boys."
"Depends," Eisenbauch said. "What can you tell me 'bout the theorem of Pythagorus?"
Lemmy's grin broadened and he rubbed his hands together, warming to his audience.

______________________________________________________________

Kat came awake with a start in the darkness of the room she was sharing with Dakota and Tardaesha. For a change, it wasn't the moans of her sisters that roused her this time. No, this was something else. She'd heard a noise from somewhere downstairs. Stealthily, she crept from her bed, out into the hall and down the stairs to the common room. Peering around, she caught movement from behind the bar. She crouched down further into the shadows and let her eyes adjust to the dim moonlight spilling through the windows. The shadow behind the counter resolved itself into Barhold. He held a small candle and he moved furtively through the door to the kitchen. Intrigued, Katarina followed. She waited a moment until she heard no noise from beyond the door, then pushed through. The kitchen was empty, but the door to the cellar was slightly ajar. She pushed it open as well and tiptoed down the stairs. There, in the cramped and musty space, was Barhold, standing before a blank wall. As Kat watched, he reached out and touched a spot there, and that section swung aside.
"Well, well," Kat whispered to herself.
Barhold stepped through. Kat waited again, then followed. Unfortunately, this time the secret door squeaked slightly as she pulled it aside.
"Who's there?" Barhold yelped, spinning around and holding up his light, revealing Kat.
"It's just me," she said, stepping forward, her hands upraised, non-threatening. "I heard a noise that woke me. I came down to investigate."
"Oh," Barhold was sweating now, obviously nervous. "Sorry to disturb, Miss. Nothing amiss at all. Just...just putting up some stores for winter. Nothing to concern yourself with. In fact, now that I think of it, I may have been a bit unfair in our negotiations last night. If you're willing to do your act, you can stay here free of charge for as long as you like. How does that sound?"
Kat smile knowingly.
"That sounds quite agreeable," she said. "This is a nice little hidey-hole you have here. Perhaps we can meet again here some time..."


11 Rova, 4716 - 20 Rova, 4716 - Biding Time

Day 2

"I see what's going on here," Tardaesha said.
She sat at the bar in the Lord's Dalliance, her chin propped in one hand, smiling slyly at Bellam Barhold.
"How do you mean, Miss?" the innkeeper asked hesitantly.
"The soldiers," Tardaesha replied. "Your serving girls."
Barhold paled slightly.
"You have an awful lot of men from the Tower asking your ladies out on 'lunch' dates. Strangely enough, all of these 'dates' seem to take place upstairs...where there's no food."
Barhold cleared his throat.
"Well, Miss, 'tis not exactly a secret, but the Lord Commander frowns on such things. Still, even a man such as him knows his boys have needs, and better to have those needs met privately here than in the back alleys of the town proper. Quite a scandal that would be."
"Quite," Tardaesha kept smiling. "Don't get me wrong. I don't disapprove. I just want in on the action."
Barhold's complexion flushed bright red this time.
"How's that?" he stammered.
"You heard me," Tardaesha said. "Ultimately, once our consortium establishes trade routes here, we will be bringing in a tidy income, but in the mean time, a girl's got to eat. Allow me to ply my wares along with your ladies, and you can have half my take. Interested?"
Barhold looked her up and down for a long moment, then nodded.
"The boys are always interested in fresh me...ah, 'wares,'" he said. "You keep it discrete, mind you, and only on the grounds of the inn. I won't be inviting trouble from his Lordship."
"It's a deal," Tardaesha grinned, and held out her hand to shake on it.

_____________________________________________________________

Katarina walked around the side of the inn to an outside pantry door. She glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, though truthfully, even if they had been it would be unlikely they would have given her a second glance. After all, delivery boys were a common sight around the Lord's Dalliance, and the circlet upon her brow allowed her a convincing disguise. Certain that the coast was clear, she slipped her picks from her sleeve and deftly opened the lock on the door, then darted quickly inside. The pantry was unoccupied, and she put her ear to the door that led into the wine closet. All quiet. Kat entered the small room and then through the door to the cellar. She had no trouble finding the spot on the wall that Barhold had touched the night before, and when she pressed it, the wall hinged open. Glancing around one last time, she slipped through and pulled the door shut behind her.

Beyond the door was a winding tunnel. Kat followed for some distance, perhaps even a mile or more, she could not tell. Eventually, it ended in a sizable vault that looked to be filled with several thousand days' worth of iron rations alongside barrels of potable water and other durable provisions. There was a ladder leading up to a trap door in the ceiling. Kat climbed it and pressed her ear against the wood. From the other side she could hear the clanging sound of metal on metal, and the voices of several men. She climbed back down and sat cross-legged on the floor, pondering. It seemed the rumor was true. She must be directly under the Tower. She decided to bide her time there for awhile.

_____________________________________________________________

Earlier that morning, Lemmy had met the dwarves in the common room. They greeted him jovially, and introduced themselves again: Nalond, Brotil, Dwinuun, Grunni, Drukon, Hargrim, Farni, Munzad, Ketzad, Grigrim, and of course their leader Barnabus. Lemmy made them an even dozen. They set off towards the Tower, but as they left the taproom, Lemmy could hear Dakota, seated at the bar, whistling a familiar tune, one that started with the nonsense lyrics 'Hi Ho, Hi Ho.' Lemmy vowed to smother her in her sleep when he had a chance.

The dwarves entered the Tower through a small gate on the Aldencross side that was barred by a portcullis and a reinforced door. Beyond that was a large courtyard that was mostly utilitarian. The grass was short and the paths cobbled. A plain fountain burbled quietly to one side and several tonsured young men, dressed in the white robes of Iomedean acolytes, were busy cleaning it. A large keep sat in the middle of the courtyard, with two soldiers standing post outside its doors. Lemmy made a mental note of all that he witnessed. Barnabus Eisenbauch led them up a flight of stairs from the yard to the battlements, and then onto a bridge that spanned one-hundred feet from the walls to the gatehouse which faced the northern wilds.
"The Bridge of Death they call this," Eisenbauch said to Lemmy. "It overlooks another bridge down below. If an army were to get past the gatehouse, this would be the second line of defense. Archers could fire volleys and drop stones down onto the invaders. Got its name over a hundred years ago when a tribe of ogres attacked Balentyne and managed to break the portcullis. The commander of the Tower at the time left the drawbridge down and the ogres rushed out onto the bridge. That's when the archers let loose, and within a minute not a single ogre survived!"
"Fascinatin' bit'o engineerin', that," Lemmy grinned.

The bridge led to the second level of the gatehouse, where a single door was propped open. Inside was an open room that spanned the entire level. Archer slits lined the walls, and two great cauldrons filled with heated sand stood poised above murder holes. Two stout winches were placed along one wall.
"Drawbridge, and portcullis," Eisenbauch indicated each.
'Fool,' Lemmy thought to himself. 'Just keep talkin'."
Four soldiers were on duty in the room, and it was obvious that the outer door was kept open due to the chamber's stifling heat. A pair of ladders led to trapdoors in the ceiling, and there were also two trapdoors in the floor. Four of the dwarves peeled off at this point and began fussing with the winches as well as the cauldron trolleys. Eisenbauch and the others, motioning for Lemmy to follow, climbed one of the ladders to the rooftop.

The open-air, crenellated roof of the gatehouse was dominated by siege engines and munitions of war. The banner of Talingarde fluttered from a flagpole mounted in the center of the west battlements. Two fearsome ballistae pointed out across the rocky approach to the gatehouse. They were loaded with great barbed missiles that conveyed the message 'death to any who approach unbidden.' Beside each ballista was a rack full of ammunition for them, at least fifty shots apiece. Two stone-droppers overlooked the portcullis of the gatehouse, which would allow rocks from great troughs to be hurled down upon the heads of approaching invaders. The troughs were loaded down with old masonry from various building projects. Four soldiers stood guard around the roof, overseen by a craggy-faced captain who glared sternly at the dwarves as they emerged, especially the newcomer.
"That's Captain Barhold," Eisenbauch muttered to Lemmy. " 'Iron Sam,' his men call him. Tough old bastard that one. Eyes in the back of his head."
"Barhold?" Lemmy asked. "Like the innkeeper?"
"His brother," Eisenbauch explained. "No love lost there, though. Anyway, this'll be your post for as long as your working for me. These crenellations have seen their better days. Gonna take years to get'em back in shape."
"Aye, aye," Lemmy nodded. "Be good to get some stone back under me hands."
Everything was going as planned, he thought.

_______________________________________________________________

Roger also went to work at Balentyne Tower that morning. He had used his circlet to make himself appear as a nondescript, rather dull-witted human, and had joined the procession of day laborers making their way up to the fortress. They entered the Tower through a set of large, solidly-built double doors at the base of the crag upon which the structure stood. The doors were open and two soldiers stood watch there, though they seemed less than enthusiastic about their duty. They only stopped those carrying large bundles, searching for weapons or contraband, then waving them through along with the rest. The doors gave onto a large passage that seemed to serve as a main thoroughfare for the lower level. Various denizens of the Tower came and went through the busy artery. Another half-dozen guards waited inside, and they herded the workers through various doors. Roger was assigned to work in the kitchens, hauling dry goods from the pantry and storeroom. Over the course of the day, he took note of a wooden stair-ladder that led to a trapdoor from the main kitchen, and by listening in on various conversations, learned that it led to the great hall of the keep itself.

__________________________________________________________________

Tardaesha spent most of the day in the outhouse behind the inn. She was not sick. In fact she'd never felt better, though if anyone had chanced to see her, they would have thought she'd gone mad. She had pried the seat off of the jakes, revealing the foul-smelling, fly-infested latrine below. Then, she stripped naked and leaped down into the pit. Once inside she set about smearing her entire body, head to toe with excrement, even going so far as to actually ingest some of the filth. She had no fear of making herself ill. She had grown in her power and devotion to Asmodeus, and knew that she was no longer susceptible to the ravages of disease. That did not mean she couldn't spread such pestilence to others, however...a veritable bringer of plague...

___________________________________________________________

Katarina had lost track of time down in the darkness of the vault, but when she finally heard the noises above her die away, she assumed it must be late afternoon or even dusk. Cautiously, quietly, she climbed the ladder and listened for several minutes at the trapdoor before lifting it open just a fraction. The large, circular room she saw appeared to be a combination armory and smithy. Weapons, shields and breastplates, all bearing the marks of the Talirean military, lined the walls, and a large forge stood in the center. It was empty of soldiers, though, and that was more important. Kat climbed out of the door and closed it behind her.

A single door led from the room, but a staircase spiraled up one wall. She went first to the door, listened, then pulled it open. An empty hallway lay beyond, with several closed doors on either side. She closed the door back, and began climbing the stairs. As she neared the top, she heard voices and paused, sinking into the shadows. The room above was tall and open, with six large banners hanging on the walls. Another set of stairs continued to climb, while one door stood closed on the far side. Two soldiers stood in idle conversation in the middle of the room. Kat eavesdropped for several minutes, but their talk was banal and trivial. She drifted back downstairs to the armory. She'd seen enough for now. The secret tunnel did exist, and led into the heart of Balentyne. She needed to get back to her comrades and inform them of all she'd gleaned.

______________________________________________________________

That evening, cleaned up and dressed to kill, Tardaesha found plying her trade laughably easy. She had targeted a particular soldier: a homely, obese, acne-ridden youth by the name of Porkins. He had been sitting glumly in a corner while his mates downed drinks and groped wenches. He'd looked shocked when Tardaesha sat down with him and asked him to buy her an ale. Tripping over his own words (and feet), he'd hurried to comply before this vision of loveliness vanished before his eyes. By the time he'd ordered a second and third round, Tardaesha knew she could have asked him to steal from his own mother if that's what it took to get her into bed. She led him upstairs, emptied his purse for him, and proceeded to give him a night he would never forget in the short amount of time remaining to him.

_________________________________________________________________

Day 3

The town was abuzz the next morning due to the arrival of Ye Merrie Men, a troupe of actors led by the famed thespian William Marcus Marlowe, the so-called Bard of Barrington. They would be performing "The Fall of Ameberlyn," a rousing tale of how love and greed brought down a great city state, in the Great Hall of Balentyne that very night. It promised to be well-attended, and Barnabus Eisenbauch invited Lemmy to go with the rest of the engineers. The old dwarf said that every soldier that wasn't on duty, all of the captains, the servants, the priests, the Lord Commander, and even the reclusive magister would be present.
'How about that?' Lemmy thought.

When he informed the others of this turn of events, Kelvin was thoughtful.
"The matter of the rookery has been weighing on my mind," he said. "Whatever our plan, if the Tower manages to get a message out, then that means reinforcements, which would not bode well for the Fire-Axe, nor us. I believe that should be our first priority, and tonight might just be the perfect opportunity."
"What do you have in mind," Tardaesha asked.
"Timeon told you that the raven-master was a recluse," Kelvin replied, "so it may be that he will not go to the play. It doesn't really matter one way or the other. Kat and I will have our best chance of sneaking in through the tunnel tonight while everyone is occupied. If this Mad Martin is unfortunate enough to be in the rookery, then he will meet the same fate as his pets. The only uncertainty is where exactly the room is located."
"While I was workin' up on the gatehouse roof," Lemmy offered," I saw lots of black birds flyin' in and out of the top of the south tower."
"Good man!" Kelvin clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew there was a reason we let you live!"
Lemmy scowled.
"So it's settled," Kelvin continued. "Lemmy and Roger will attend the performance tonight and be our backup should things not go as planned. Kat and I will be in and out with no one the wiser if all goes well. By tomorrow morning, Balentyne Tower will be officially incommunicado."

_______________________________________________________________________

By nightfall, the common room of the Lord's Dalliance was empty. Anyone who was able had gone to the performance. After all, it wasn't every day that such a notable troupe came to town. Kat had no trouble getting back down into the cellar to the hidden tunnel. Kelvin, not so stealthy as his little sister, opted to travel under a spell of invisibility instead. With Katarina leading the way, they covered the mile-long distance relative quickly and emerged into the storage vault. Kat made sure the armory was unoccupied, and then they climbed the ladder and headed for the stairs leading up into the south tower. Halfway up, Kat paused and uncorked a small flask that Tardaesha had given her. Quaffing it, she faded from view. The invisible siblings entered the flag room above the armory, where two different soldiers were grousing about missing the evening's festivities. Kelvin wanted to assure them that they wouldn't be bored for long, but held his tongue and moved as quietly as he could to the second set of stairs.

"Are you still with me?" Kat whispered over her shoulder.
"Right here," Kelvin answered. "What do you make of this?"
The third floor of the tower had arrow slits adorning its entire outer wall. Wooden racks contained dozens of quivers of arrows. It was lit by two sconces, and another set of stairs continued on the far side.
"An archer's strongpoint," Kat said. "This give me an idea for later."
They continued to the top floor of the tower where the stairs ended in a small guardroom that was currently unoccupied. A heavy iron door with a stout lock stood in the far wall. Kat leaned against it for several moments.
"Birds," she whispered. "Lots of them. And there's someone in there talking as well. Only one person I think."
She fished out her picks and set to work on the lock. So familiar was she with her tools that she had no need to see them, invisible as they were, like the rest of her gear. She could work simply by touch and sound alone. In less than a minute she had the lock open.
"Ready?" she asked Kelvin.
"As I'm going to be," her brother replied.

Kat pulled the door open swiftly. The large room beyond was dim, foul-smelling, and full of bird droppings. Hundreds of black-winged ravens roosted in the rafters and in cubbies built into the walls, and standing in the midst of them was a wild-haired old codger dressed in a padded coat. Several ravens perched on his arms and shoulders, and he crooned softly to them like a mother singing to her babes. He started to turn when he heard the door open, but Kat sprang across the room in the space of a heartbeat. She plunged her dagger into his back and he gasped as she became visible, her eyes hard and cold. The ravens began cawing and flapping their wings in agitation. Slowly, Mad Martin's eyelids drooped until they closed, and he sagged to the floor, snoring.
"Well worth the price," Kat smiled as she wiped her blade clean.
"The dark elves do know their poisons," Kelvin agreed. "That was good thinking on your part to have Tiadora procure you some. Father would have been proud."
Kat's smile broadened as she leaned down and cleanly slit the raven-master's throat.

When the deed was done, Kat took several flasks of oil from her pack and began pouring it around the room while Kelvin started systematically snapping the necks of every bird he could get his hands on. While he finished that grisly work, Kat slipped back downstairs to the archer's nest and coated every quiver with more oil. When she was done, she took a torch from one of the sconces and tossed it upon the racks. Flames erupted instantly, and she quickly darted back upstairs.
"Done!" she called.
Kelvin nodded, wringing the necks of the last few ravens.
"Go to the window," he told her. "I'll be right there."
Kat obeyed, sitting on the sill while her brother began casting a spell. He conjured a sphere of fire the size of a melon and rolled it into the center of the room. The oil ignited with a loud 'whoomph,' and suffocating heat and smoke began filling the chamber. Kelvin ran to Kat, another spell on his lips. He disappeared from sight again.
"Jump!" Kat heard him shout, and she did not hesitate.
She leaped from the window, fifty feet above the ground, on a side of the tower facing the wooded slopes rather than the courtyard. A moment later, she heard Kelvin's voice casting again, and her descent suddenly slowed dramatically as she floated towards the ground gentle as a feather. As soon as her feet touched the earth, she dove for the shadowed shelter of the tree line, hearing Kelvin huffing along behind her. The siblings vanished into the gloom as smoke and flames began pouring from the upper levels of the tower.

___________________________________________________________________

Lemmy was seated in the keep's Great Hall with the dwarven contingent, actually enjoying the performance, much to his surprise, when the signal horns began to sound. Instantly, all of the soldiers and staff were on their feet, their captains and the Lord Commander barking orders. Eisenbauch and the rest of the dwarves rose to follow them, and Lemmy went with them, a knowing smile concealed within his thick beard.

When the doors of the Great Hall opened, the orange glow of firelight spilled in from outside, and men began shouting and running. Lemmy reached the courtyard and saw that the top of the south tower was engulfed in flames.
"It's the rookery!" Eisenbauch exclaimed. "C'mon boys! We got us a fire to put out!"
Lemmy accompanied his colleagues and even joined in the bucket brigade, all the while knowing it was a futile effort, and more pleased by that knowledge.

______________________________________________________________________

Day 4

The fire was all that anyone could talk about in town the next day. A terrible tragedy! It was rumored that it had started in the archer's nest, perhaps by an unsecured torch falling from its sconce. From there it had likely spread upwards to the rookery, killing poor Master Martin and all his birds. There would be an official investigation, and the soldiers who had been on duty in the flag room would likely be held responsible for dereliction. In any event, no members of the garrison were given leave from the Tower that day, and many of the townsfolk volunteered to go to Balentyne to assist with cleanup.

Ye Merrie Men packed up and left Aldencross that morning, as it was made abundantly clear by the Lord Commander that there would be no encore performance. Some even whispered that Lord Havelyn blamed the acting troupe for distracting his men from their work.

That evening, a memorial service was held for Martin Rayard in the choir hall of the Tower. Father Donnagin presided, and though no one had every really much cared for the eccentric raven master, the pews were full, as everyone realized what the loss of him and his birds meant for the Watch Tower.

__________________________________________________________________

Day 5

Things began to get back to normal both in town and at the Tower, and it was on that day that Tardaesha first made the acquaintance of Captain Zacharias ("Call me Zack!") Eddarly. A handsome and rakish gallant, he was the only officer to ever frequent the Lord's Dalliance, and he had the reputation of being somewhat of a lady's man. His wardrobe befitted one more of noble bearing than a career soldier. He sat at his favorite table and drank, flirting with the bar maids, and generally being the life of the party. Tardaesha wasted no time in gaining his attention.

Still, despite her best overtures, it quickly became clear to Tardaesha that Eddarly was not interested in what she had to offer. Instead, all he wanted to do was moon about some woman named Kaitlyn.
"The poor girl," Eddarly said, shaking his head. "Her husband is a career military man. Cares only for his position, giving no thought for the lonely, neglected woman waiting for him at home."
"Umm hmm," Tardaesha nodded, stifling a yawn. "Why doesn't she just find another man?"
"Oh, a divorce would be too much of a scandal!" Eddarly exclaimed. "Her family would disown her."
"I didn't say anything about a divorce," Tardaesha winked.
A flush suffused the captain's face, and that is when she knew.
"Sooo," she asked, "do you know her husband?"
"We work together," Eddarly said, but added, "though I can't mention his name. That would be gossiping."
"Of course," Tardaesha smiled.

After Captain Eddarly departed, it did not take Tardaesha long to find out from some of the other soldiers that Kaitlyn just so happened to be the name of Captain Franz Mott's wife. Mott had a reputation among the men of being gruff, and dour...all business. It wasn't long after that for rumors to begin circulating among the guards, thanks to a few less-than-subtle hints dropped by Tardaesha, that Captain Eddarly might be offering something more than a shoulder to cry on to Captain Mott's lady. Somehow, these rumors spread to the dwarves as well, and to the day laborers who came and went from Tower. By that evening, the whispers had moved faster than the fire two nights past.

As the day drew to an end, and evening came on, the taproom of the Lord's Dalliance was not as filled as usual. Word was that several of the soldiers had fallen ill. There was even talk that Father Donnigan feared it might be cholera...

________________________________________________________________

Day 6

"The winches for the portcullis are in the same room as the sand cauldrons fer the murder'in holes," Lemmy said as the Knot gathered in their rooms for their morning plan-of-action conference. "Four guards on duty all the time."
Tardaesha nodded. "Yes, they are usually all from Timeon's company. He informed me that tonight he is supposed to be on duty, along with another acquaintance of mine, Private Porkins, who, I'm afraid, has been indisposed by sickness. So I think tonight would be a prime opportunity for us to engage in a bit of sabotage."

Later that evening, Kelvin placed spells of invisibility on Roger and Tardaesha, then Kat snuck them down to the cellar of the inn and into the secret tunnel. Timeon was waiting for them in the vault at the far end. He gave brief, but complete descriptions to Kat and Roger of the other two soldiers who were supposed to be on duty with him and Porkins that night. The pair of them used their circlets to make their appearances match those he described as closely as possible, while Tardaesha disguised herself as Porkins. The four of them climbed the ladder to the armory, and then walked up the stairs to the flag room. The two soldiers there nodded to them, but continued their conversation as the others passed through to the courtyard. They walked to the stairs leading to the battlements, and then crossed the Bridge of Death to the gatehouse.

"What are you lot doing here so early?" one of the on-duty soldiers asked when Timeon knocked on the door.
"Thought we'd do you lads a favor and let you off early," Timeon smiled. "But you'll owe us one down the road."
The guard peered at the others.
"Say, Porkins," he said, narrowing his eyes, "you're not looking so hot. Thought you was sick. And Tarley, can't say you're looking much better."
"We've both been down with the runs," Tardaesha put on a morose expression. "We're feeling a might better, but Father says might still be catching, so if I was you lot, I'd bugger off while you can afore you get the shites yourselves!"
The guard's face paled slightly, and he called to his companions.
"Come on, boys. Let's not look gift horses in the mouth."

Once they were gone, Katarina went to work quickly. She spent several minutes working on the winches, then moved to the cauldrons. Once she'd finished, she stood and brushed off her hands.
"There," she said. "That should do it. The portcullis can still be raised normally, but once it's up, it will jam in place. As for the cauldrons, I rigged their trolleys so they can't be tipped. No one will be the wiser until they try to use them."
"Well done," Tardaesha nodded. "Timeon, do you remember the plan?"
The squire nodded as well. "Yes. When the real relief crew comes, I'll just tell them I got here ahead of time and told the others to take an early night. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Good boy!" Tardaesha gave him a lingering kiss, leaving him flushed and a bit sweaty.
"We'll be off then," she said. "Until next time."
They retraced their steps, informing the soldiers in the flag room that Porkins had taken ill again, and they were returning him to the barracks.

_____________________________________________________________

Day 7

It was cholera. No doubt about it. Father Donnagin had confirmed twenty cases already. They would be unfit for duty for at least three days, and would remain in quarantine for another week after that. One fifth of the garrison. Tardaesha was disappointed it wasn't more.

________________________________________________________________

Day 8

As the members of the 9th Knot sat for breakfast, a young squire came bursting into the common room from outside.
"They're fighting!" he shouted, and then charged back out again.
The patrons all looked at one another in confusion, then as one they jumped from their seats and headed outside.

More folk were streaming out of their homes, and several soldiers ran with them. They were all headed for a small field, where a sizable crowd had already gathered.
"Well, well," Dakota smiled as she pushed through the throng. "Looks like someone's been telling tales out of class."
Tardaesha and the others moved up beside her to see what she was talking about. Two men faced off in the center of the field. The younger one held a longsword in one hand, while the older man gripped a great-sword with both of his. It was Captain Eddarly and Captain Mott. Dueling. Nearby, a young woman wailed, pleading with them both to stop. Tardaesha could only assume it was Kaitlyn. She put one hand over her mouth to hide her grin. The two soldiers clashed, Mott clearly the stronger, rushing in headlong and bashing with his heavier blade. Eddarly was nimble, however, and managed to side-step the deadly blows. At first he seemed content with merely fending off or staying out of reach of Mott, hoping to tire the older man out, but it became quickly apparent that Mott was not going to let up. Eddarly was forced to go on the offensive. He fought more like a fencer, thrusting and parrying, compared to Mott's battering ram approach. Finally, as Mott raised his sword above his head, Eddarly darted forward and thrust his sword through the other captain's chest. Mott's eyes went wide, and Kaitlyn screamed. Blood frothed from his mouth and he fell heavily to the ground. The crowd went silent.

Within minutes, another dozen soldiers had arrived, accompanied by none other than the Lord Commander himself. He surveyed the scene somberly.
"Captain Eddarly," he intoned, "you are hereby under arrest, charged with dueling to the death. As you well know, this is a capital offense. Seize him!"
The guards rushed to comply, and despite Eddarly's protests of self-defense, hauled him away in chains. Others picked up Mott's body and carried it back to the Tower. Kaitlyn was left kneeling on the ground, her tears mixing with the blood of her murdered husband.


20 Rova, 4716- 22 Rova, 4716: Going Out Of Business

Day 11

"So let's recap, shall we?" Kelvin asked.
The Dannisters, Lemmy and Roger were once more gathered in Tardaesha's and Dakota's room, comparing notes.
"Lines of communication, vis-a-vis the ravens, between Balentyne and other garrisons have been cut," Kelvin ticked off points on his fingers. "The bulk of the Tower's bow ammunition has been destroyed. The portcullis and the sand cauldrons in the gate house have been disabled. Twenty soldiers have been removed from service, thanks to Tardaesha."
The anti-paladin curtsied.
"And lastly," Kelvin concluded, "two of the four captains have been taken out of the equation. All in all, I'd say that's not bad for a week's work, and none of the commanders in Balentyne the wiser."
"So what's next?" Roger asked.
"We still have four days until the bugbears will be in position," Kelvin replied
"Yes, but the Fire-Axe said he could hold there for up to another two weeks," Dorian said.
"True," Kelvin nodded, "but I would prefer to strike while the iron is hot, and I believe we can accomplish our goals sooner rather than later. The cholera outbreak has given me an idea. Perhaps we can use it to further our advantage even more. 'Aesha, I'll need your help with this, though not in the capacity you're probably thinking."

__________________________________________________________________

A hour later, Tardaesha arrived at the Tower, though no one would have recognized her. She had used her circlet to disguise herself as a Talirean soldier, thought not from Balentyne itself. When she reached the pontine gate of the fortress, two guards came out to meet her.
"Greetings," one of them said, eyeing her curiously. "Where are you coming from?"
"Eastwatch-By-The-Sea," she replied, naming the Watch Tower furthest to the east along the Wall. "I bring a message from Lord Commander Sembryl for Lord Commander Havelyn."
The guard nodded and asked her to wait for a moment. He entered the fortress and then returned a short time later with Captain Barhold.
"What's this all about?" the grim-faced captain asked, scowling.
"I'm to deliver a message to the Lord Commander," Tardaeshs said. "It's urgent."
"Give it to me," Barhold said, holding out his hand.
Tardaesha complied, then stood silently. Barhold unfolded the note and read it, then read it again.
"Come with me," he said curtly, folding it back up and tucking it into his belt.

Tardaesha followed him through the gate and into the courtyard. He walked straight for the keep at its center, ignoring the salutes of the two guards who stood outside the doors. Inside was one, large open room...the Great Hall, which was currently empty, with chairs and tables pushed against the walls. It also held the Commander's Seat, which was equally unoccupied. Barhold strode across the room to a set of stairs on the far wall. Up these, 'Aesha found herself in a room whose walls were carved with hundreds of names. Two more guards stood duty there, and she noted that there was a large stone plug to one side of the stairs which could be pushed into place to block access from below. Barhold crossed the room to a door on the opposite side, which gave onto a short hall and another flight of stairs. Climbing these led to yet another guardroom with another pair of soldiers, and a final set of stairs. The last flight ended on a landing. Two ornate doors stood directly across from the stairs, and a smaller, single doors was to the south. A trapdoor and ladder appeared to lead to the roof. Two soldiers snapped to attention at the double doors when they saw Barhold.
"As you were," he muttered, and then knocked on one of the doors.
"Come," a deep voice called from the other side.
Barhold pushed the door slightly open, then turned to Tardaesha and told her to wait for a moment.

Several minutes later, the doors opened again and Barhold beckoned Tardaesha inside. She found herself in a large, austere and conservatively appointed chamber. There was little more than a heavy wooden table and a few chairs. Pushed into one corner was a large, stout chest of oak banded with iron. Behind the desk sat an imposing man. Of middle age, his very presence spoke of gravitas and dignity. His polished breastplate bore the emblem of his House, Havelyn, as well as the insignia of the Knights of Alerion. He spoke without preamble.
"It says here that there has been a cholera outbreak at Eastwatch," he began. "We have had the same here. It says your commander tried to send us a raven, but as you no doubt saw when you entered, we had unfortunate accident befall our rookery. Commander Sembryl states that a quarter of his garrison is out, and his scouts have seen movement among the bugbear tribes to the north. Is all of this true?"
"Every word of it, my Lord," 'Aesha lied. "Hard times have befallen our keep."
"Yes, ours as well," Havelyn said. "Yet never let it be said that Thomas Havelyn ignored calls for aid from his brethren."
He pulled a sheet of parchment, quill and ink from the desk, and set about writing. After several moments, he blotted the page, folded it, sealed it and handed it to Tardaesha.
"My reply," he said. "Take it with you when you return to Eastwatch tomorrow, accompanied by a ten man squad of my men, along with two of our acolytes. I'm afraid it's the best we can do at this time."

_________________________________________________________________

Barhold escorted Tardaesh out of the keep, and then down into the undercroft of the Tower to the barracks. A good portion of the beds were filled with pale-faced, weak looking men, tended to by white-robed, masked acolytes. The healthy soldiers were all on the opposite side of the room. 'Aesha found an empty bunk and stored her gear, nodding politely to the curious onlookers.
"You'll leave at first light," Barhold said. "Make sure you're at the pontine gate on time. They won't wait for you."
He left without waiting for a reply.

'Aesha spent the evening gossiping amiably with the other soldiers, filling them in about her 'mission.' At one point she saw Timeon enter the barracks. Of course he did not recognize her in her current guise. She took out paper and quill and scribbled a brief note. Then, as she walked across the room towards the jakes, she surreptitiously dropped it on the squire's bunk. Timeon blinked, a look of confusion on his face as he stared at the back of the retreating soldier. He picked up the note and unfolded it.
'Timmy, my love, 4 days hence, Balentyne will not be so welcoming. By midnight of that evening, you should be in the tunnel. You know the one. We will find you. Destroy this message. T.'
Timeon began quietly tearing the paper to shreds, and then stuffed the pieces into his mouth and swallowed.

________________________________________________________________________

Katarina had taken to staking out the secret door in the cellar of the Lord's Dalliance nightly, hoping to find out what, exactly, the innkeeper was up to. That night, she got lucky. Bellam Barhold crept down the stairs sometime after midnight, a clinking crate in his hands. He opened the concealed portal and disappeared inside. Kat waited several minutes, then quietly followed.

This time, the innkeeper traveled the entire length of the passage to the vault at the far end. There, he set his burden down, and then picked up another crate that was hidden behind some barrels. Hefting it, he started back down the tunnel. Kat hid among the dry goods until he was gone, then tip-toed over to the box he'd left behind. Inside were a dozen bottles of wine. She uncorked one, sniffed it, then tasted it. She made a face. It was cheap, watered-down fare, one-step removed from vinegar. Curious, she hurried back down the passage, as quickly as she could while still remaining silent. She reached the inn's cellar just as Barhold was concealing the other crate beneath a tarp in a corner. He then trotted back upstairs. Kat went to the second crate and looked inside. Another dozen bottles of wine, save that these bore labels with flowing, lovely script. Elvish, she thought. She opened one and tasted, then closed her eyes in delight as what felt like liquid gold flowed down her throat.
'Fool,' she thought to herself. 'All this subterfuge just to steal wine, albeit exquisite wine. It will quite literally cost him the keys to the kingdom.'

_________________________________________________________________

Day 12

At sunrise the following morning, thirteen horsemen set out from Tower Balentyne. Tardaesha rode near the front, leading the ten soldiers and two acolytes. From a nearby alley, Katarina watched them go. This wasn't part of the plan. She hurried back to the inn to inform her cohorts about this unexpected development.
"Damn!" Kelvin cursed. "That's less than we'd hoped for, and now 'Aesha's with them!"
"Then we're going after her," Dakota said matter-of-factly, her tone suggesting this was not open for debate.
"Yes, I suppose we are," Kelvin sighed. "We'll rent some horses and follow from a safe distance. We know where they're headed, so there's no danger of losing them. When the make camp tonight, we'll assess the situation.

_______________________________________________________________________

Kelvin's plan actually worked. Not expecting any trouble on the 'civilized' side of the Wall, and least of all from the direction they'd just come, the soldiers never spotted their tail. As the sun went down, they made camp in a clearing just off the road. Tardaesha was unperturbed. She knew her siblings would not let her down, and when she spied Kat creeping around in the trees just beyond the firelight, she smiled. A moment later, all Hells broke loose.

From literally thin air, thick, heavy strands of webbing suddenly appeared, criss-crossing the campsite. Men started shouting in alarm as they found themselves entangled in the sticky goo. Tardaesha was unfortunately in the middle of the morass, but she was nimble enough to avoid touching the strands, as she recognized Kelvin's handiwork and knew exactly what would happen if she did. Moving carefully, she made her way to the edge of the webs...just as the whole mass began to blaze with flames as it was set alight from the campfire!

Full-blown panic now gripped the camp as the trapped soldiers began burning. Their brethren who had been lucky enough to be outside of the web spread tried desperately to hack them free. Then, a whistling hiss came out of the darkness, and one of the entangled men shrieked as an arrow pierced his chest. His cries were cut off a moment later when a dagger abruptly sprouted from his throat. Tardaesha grinned widely, and almost laughed out loud when she saw both of the acolytes collapse, succumbing to the smoke and fire. Then a dazzling flash of light burst amidst the men, followed by a glittering cloud of dust that settled over them. Four of the soldiers began clawing at their eyes, blinded by the radiance.
"This way!" 'Aesha shouted to them. "Follow the sound of my voice! I'll help you!"
Desperate for any salvation, they began making their way towards her.

One of the soldiers who was free of the webs and not blind, suddenly looked towards the road as he heard the sound of running footsteps. There he saw a burly man with small tusks protruding past his lower lip rushing towards him, a great-sword lifted over his head. The soldier drew his own blade and rushed out to meet this new threat, but before he'd closed half the distance, his attacker abruptly paused and spoke in a deep, hypnotic voice.
"Kill your allies," Roger commanded.
The soldier blinked in confusion for a moment, then turned and headed back towards the camp.

"Take my hand!" Tardaesha shouted as one of the blind soldiers neared her. "I'm a healer!"
The man reached out for her, and as his fingers touched hers, 'Aesha smiled wickedly and channeled the power of Asmodeus into the unfortunate fool. His body jerked and twitched as the dark energy pulsed through him, and he fell back into the flames.
"Nicely done!" Katarina said from where she'd appeared at her sister's side.
Kat slashed a dagger across the throat of another blind soldier who had gotten too close, putting him out of his misery.
"I'm just getting started!" Tardaesha laughed.

The soldier following Roger's murderous command ran towards one of his trapped comrades and swung his sword wildly. The attack barely missed.
"What are you doing?" his target shouted. "Have you gone mad!?"
The first soldier shook his head, and then looked around.
"I...I don't...where am I?" he asked as the spell's effects dissipated.
"Are you responsible for this!?" the entangled guard screamed. "Traitor! Traitor!!"

Two more soldiers had spotted Roger and were moving towards him. The big half-orc held his blade at the ready, and when one of them tried to flank behind him, Roger took the man off at the knees. The second one screamed as another arrow from the darkness impaled his shoulder. The distraction quickly cost him his life when Roger thrust his blade through his belly.

Another blind soldier fell, jerking and shriveled, taken in by Tardaesha's bluff. Katarina cut the throat of the last one who'd come to 'Aesha's call. Then streaks of light came flashing out of the night, striking two more soldiers, including the one Roger had turned traitor, killing them both in an instant. That left only one soldier still standing.
"Surrender!" Roger shouted at him.
"Yes, they'll let us live!" Tardaesha pleaded with the man, throwing down her own weapon.
The soldier glanced around in desperation, then tossed aside his sword.
"Wise move," Roger nodded. "Now, why don't you tell us where the magister's and the high priest's quarters are located in Balentyne Tower?"
"W...what...?"
"You understood me perfectly," Roger sneered, holding the point of his sword to the man's throat. "Say 'what' again! I dare you!"
"W...," the man began, but then gulped. "Th...the magister's chambers are in the keep, just below the Lord Commanders! Father Donnagin sleeps in a cell near the acolytes not far from the barracks! I swear!"
"Excellent," Roger nodded. "You have our gratitude."
And with that, he swept the man's head from his shoulders.

________________________________________________________________

Tardaesha carved the symbol of Asmodeus into the foreheads of both of the acolytes before dumping them unceremoniously in the woods atop the pile of soldiers.
"Crows have to eat too," she said, dusting off her hands.

While the others busied themselves with that unsavory task, Kelvin took the tabards they'd stripped from the soldiers. All were torn, bloodied and singed, but with a couple of handy prestidigitation and mending cantrips, he had them looking good as new. They might come in handy later.

Their work done, the 9th knot remounted their horses and headed back for Aldencross. There was still much preparation to do, and increasingly little time to accomplish it.

______________________________________________________________

Day 13

"The entire inn??" Bellam Barhold asked.
"Yes," Tardaesha nodded. "We are expecting several important investors over the next few days. It is important that we make a good impression. The future of our little consortium depends on it. We will, of course, compensate you well for your trouble."
Barhold thought it over for a few moments.
"Well...," he began, "I can't rightly put the dwarves out. They're on assignment for the Tower, and are more or less permanent residents."
"Of course not," 'Aesha agreed. "I think there will still be plenty of room for our guests. So we are agreed then?"
Barhold grinned and stuck out one meaty hand.
"Gold up front," he said.

______________________________________________________________

'The plan isn't going to work,' Kelvin thought to himself.
He sat alone in his room jotting down notes and doodling diagrams.
'At least not in its current incarnation.'
Though they had several successes in their column so far, the young mage, who had always had a knack for tactics (it had been a vital part of his slaving operation), knew that as long as the Tower leadership was still alive, the bugbears would ultimately fail in their assault. Disabling the siege engines and getting rid of the dwarves, who could repair the sabotage, would go a long way towards ensuring victory, but if the Lord Commander could still rally the troops, Donnagin could still heal them, and the magister could still provide magical support, it wouldn't matter. Kelvin underlined the names of the three commanders with his quill.
'Yes, we are going to have to advance the timeline...starting tonight...,'

___________________________________________________________________

Barnabus Eisenbauch and his engineers where having a grand time of it. After a typical day at work at the Tower, he and his crew would return to the Lord's Dalliance to eat, drink an unprecedented amount of ale, chat about the day's endeavors, and play their incomprehensible dwarven card games. Tonight was no different, except for the fact that Tardaesha was buying the rounds. The common room was empty save for the dwarves and the members of the Knot, thanks to Barhold having evicted all of the other tenants, and the two crews were having quite the celebration. Only Lemmy didn't join in the festivities, sitting sullenly in a corner despite the jibes and dares from the other dwarves. The drinking carried on well into the wee hours...well after Barhold and his wife had retired for the night.

Finally, as most of them were close to passing out anyway, the dwarves said their goodnights and trooped noisily up to their rooms. The Nessians followed, retiring to their own rooms. Time passed. The inn was quiet save for the incessant snoring echoing from behind the door where the dwarves slept. Then, a slight creak. A door opened along the darkened hall, shortly followed by another. Several shadowy forms crept out into the hall, but now they made no further sound. Their every movement was cloaked in a magical curtain of silence. They gathered outside the dwarves' door, and a slender form bent and fiddled with the lock. The door opened. The individuals slipped inside...all save one. A short, stocky figure stood in the hall, arms crossed and head bowed. Lemmy watched his companions go to the beds of the sleeping dwarves. He knew this had to be done. Their mission depended on it. What he didn't know was why it bothered him. God's knew he was not the sentimental sort. It was just that the camaraderie he'd found among his kinsmen the last few days had brought back old memories...and opened old wounds. He didn't object to what necessity dictated, but he declined to participate. In a matter of moments, it was done. His companions exited the room, cleaning their weapons on their cloaks.

When the process was repeated a few minutes later in the innkeeper's room, Lemmy had no such compunctions. He joined the others, even reveled in the silent slaughter. Getting lost in his art always helped him to work through his issues.

____________________________________________________________________

The following morning there was new sign on the door of the Lord's Dalliance:

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE! GUESTS AND PROPRIETORS CHOLERIC! DO NOT ENTER!


22 Rova, 4716 - The Fall of the House of Havelyn

Day 14

Lemmy slipped out of the inn early the next morning, accompanied by Katarina, who had disguised herself as the dwarf engineer Nalond. The pair of them reported for duty to the battlements, informing Captain Barhold about the illness that had befallen his brother, sister-in-law and patrons.
"Hmph," the captain snorted. "'Twas only a matter of time before his unclean habits caught up to him."

Roger left the inn as well, once more in his guise as a day laborer. Kelvin wanted to make sure that the Knot had a presence in the Tower to ascertain the response to the news of the incapacitated engineers. As it turned out, that response came to him.

__________________________________________________________________

"Bellam! Are you in there?" a voice called from outside the inn's front door. "It's Father Donnagin."
"Are you serious?" Tardaesha whispered to her siblings. "We can't be this lucky!"
"Asmodeus is smiling upon us," Dorian replied.
'Aesha touched the circlet on her brow and her form quickly morphed into that of Bellam Barhold.
"Coming Father!" she replied. "Just a moment."
Kelvin, Dorian and Dakota hurried back upstairs.

Tardaesha opened the door and saw the round-faced, jovial priest standing there, a young acolyte at his side.
"Ah, Bellam!" Donnagin smiled. "You don't look any worse for wear! Have you met Brother Celebus?"
"Can't say that I have," 'Aesha replied. "I won't shake your hand, though. Don't want to be catching."
The acolyte smiled weakly.
"Glad you're here, just the same," 'Aesha continued, turning back to Donnagin. "Those dwarves have made a wreck of my outhouse, to be sure, but it's my missus that I'm most worried about. She can't even get out of bed."
"The poor dear," Donnagin tsked. "I'll have a look at her, but then I must see to the dwarves. The Lord Commander is very concerned about their absence. He doesn't want any further delays on the repairs to the battlements."

Tardaesha led the two clerics upstairs to Barhold's quarters. Kelvin had done a masterful job of cleansing the blood and gore from the bedding and floor, and the bodies had been hidden in the secret tunnel in the cellar. Dakota lay in the bed, cloaked in the form of Mrs. Barhold. She moaned and tossed back and forth. Kelvin stood in one corner, once more in his elven form, but looking a bit peaked and haggard.
"Who's this then?" Donnagin asked, noticing the strange elf.
"Ah, this is Master Elarius," 'Aesha said by way of introduction. "He and his family are guests here. They have also been afflicted with the runs, but he has been good enough to help me out where he can."
Kelvin smiled politely. Father Donnagin returned the smile and then went to the bedside.
"Matilda dear," he said in a calming voice, "how are you feeling?"
Behind him, Tardaesha drew her sword. Brother Celebus looked at her in confusion, having just seen the unarmed Bellam Barhold pull a sword from literally nowhere.
"Have you ever seen it's like?" 'Aesha asked the acolyte.
Before the young man could answer, she whirled and swung the sword with both hands.
"By the power of Asmodeus, I smite thee!" she cried as she struck Father Donnagin a vicious blow behind his knees.
The priest grunted as he fell forward...right onto Dakota's waiting dagger.
"Heretics!" Donnagin cried out in pain. "Devil worshippers! Run Celebus! Get help!"
The acolyte turned to flee, only to find Kelvin blocking the door.
"I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere except to meet your b#~~& of a goddess," the mage smirked, and then he conjured a volley of mystic bolts.
Two struck Celebus in the chest, and he fell unconscious to the floor. Another pair hit Donnagin. The old cleric struggled upright and away from Dakota, then reached around to grab his shield which had been strapped across his back. He began chanting a prayer.
"Shut your blasphemous mouth!" Kelvin commanded, and he fired another salvo into Donnagin.
This time he fell, and he did not rise again.

Dakota threw off her blankets and jumped to her feet. She ran to the fallen holy men and bent to examine them both.
"Still alive!" she crowed. "We need to keep them that way."
"I can stop their bleeding," Kelvin replied, pulling his wand from his belt.
As he worked, Dakota uttered a brief prayer, and then used one finger to trace the outline of Asmodeus's inverted pentagram upon the brow of Brother Celebus. A moment later, a flaming brand appeared there.
"Let's get them downstairs," Tardaesha said. "I have use for them later."
"And I'm going to have a bit of fun with them now," Dakota giggled as she began unwrapping her tools.

___________________________________________________________

Katarina and Lemmy remained at the Tower for the remainder of the day, and during that time Kat managed to quietly disable three of the four siege engines on the roof of the gatehouse with no one the wiser. As evening came on, they left the gatehouse and then Lemmy joined Roger with the line of workers leaving for the day. Kat stayed behind, claiming she had a few more things to see to since she was having to do the work of ten dwarves that day.

When Lemmy and Roger reached the inn, the others filled them in on the day's events.
"Huh," Lemmy grunted. "Dumb luck that."
"Or divine providence," Tardaesha grinned. "I prefer to believe the latter. In any case, don't you boys get too comfortable. Freshen up and gather what you need. We're going back to the Tower. All debts are paid tonight!"

_______________________________________________________

The six of them traveled through the secret tunnel an hour later. Tardaesha had changed her appearance to match Father Donnagin's, and Dakota was disguised as Brother Celebus. Roger wore the visage of one of the acolytes they'd slain on the road to East Watch, while Kelvin walked along invisibly behind them. Lemmy looked himself, as usual.

They emerged from the vault into the armory, which was deserted by that time, and then went up the stairs to the flag room. The two guards on duty stared at them, puzzled, when they stepped into the chamber.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Tardaesha greeted them in Father Donnagin's voice. I believe that the cholera outbreak we've been experiencing is due to contaminated water. Master Killmister here is going to be inspecting the cistern for leaks. I advise you in the mean time to boil all water before drinking it. Spread the word."
The soldiers nodded and saluted. "Aye Father!"

The group strode through the courtyard and up to the gates of the keep, where another pair of guards snapped to attention.
"The magister has taken ill," Tardaesha said. "My acolytes and I are going to attend him. Make sure no one else enters until further notice. We may need to quarantine the building."
The guards nodded and opened the huge double doors for them. When they climbed the stairs from the Great Hall to the second floor guardroom, Katarina was already there in her dwarf guise, arguing with the guards.
"I told ya already," she huffed, waving her hands, "the priest told me to meet'im here! Somethin' about the water supply!"
"Just so," Tardaesha interrupted. "Our dwarf friends are going to be inspecting the pipes for leaks. The cholera may be in our water. The magister has now taken ill, and I must see to him. I need you two to join the guards outside the keep and make sure no one is admitted. We are under quarantine."
The soldiers nodded, saluted and then hustled downstairs. When Tardaesha heard the main doors boom shut below, she turned to her companions.
"Good work so far," she winked. "Lemmy, Roger, slide that stair cap into place."
The half-orc and the dwarf grunted and heaved the heavy stone into the stair well, sealing off the only means of ingress from below. Behind them, Kelvin slowly faded into view. Just then Dakota, who had moved to the inner door, suddenly held up a hand and pressed her finger to her lips.
"Someone's coming," she whispered.

Kelvin began casting a spell at Dakota's warning, and a moment later the entire room was blanketed in silence. Just then the door opened and a single soldier stepped through. He looked around the room in confusion, first at the group congregated there, and then at the fact that he couldn't hear anything. His confusion ended a moment later when Lemmy and Dakota hit him simultaneously with an arrow through the throat and a blast of rocks to the chest. Roger stepped over the dead man and into the hallway beyond. The silence followed him since Kelvin had centered the spell upon him. The others trailed behind.

Roger and Tardaesha emerged onto the third floor landing first and found the other guard standing there expectantly, staring down the stairs. His brow furrowed as the area went quiet. Tardaesha, still disguised as Donnagin, beckoned the man towards her. The guard nodded and stepped forward. As he did, Lemmy came up the stairs and sent a blast towards him. The soldier dodged aside at the last moment, then opened his mouth to shout, only to realize again that he could not hear. Tardaesha rushed past and behind the guard, pointing in mock panic back towards Lemmy. The soldier drew his sword and pushed the 'Father' safely behind him. Tardaesha rewarded his loyalty by driving her own sword through his spine.

________________________________________________________________

Kelvin's silence spell wore off a short time later, and he knew he would have to recast it if their plan was going to have a chance. He also knew that he ran the risk of his casting being overheard this time, but it was a gamble he would have to make. He spoke the words again, and silence once more cloaked the area, the effect moving as Roger moved. The burly anti-paladin slammed his shoulder into one of the two doors that led from the landing, bursting it open. He found himself in a well-furnished bed chamber with a single large window overlooking the courtyard. Standing in the middle of the room was a middle-aged man dressed in fine robes adorned with a flame motif...Tacitus of Morimun, the Magister of Balentyne himself.
The wizard's eyes went wide as sound vanished from his chambers and all that thatimplied. Then Kat darted into the room behind Roger and flicked a dagger at the mage. It struck Tacitus behind his left knee as he was turning to run, hampering his movement.

Back out on the landing, as Kelvin finished his spell and was discarding the scroll upon which it had been inscribed, a soldier came hustling down the stairs from the floor above. What he saw was Father Donnagin and two of his acolytes.
"What's going on down here, Father?" the guard asked in confusion. "We heard chanting, and I sent my partner to alert the Lord Commander."
"Well done!" Tardaesha replied. "There's been an attack!"
The soldier looked alarmed, but before he could react, two things happened: Kelvin quickly cast another spell and vanished from sight, while simultaneously Dakota spoke a prayer which froze the guard in place, rooted to the floor.
"I do love a gullible fool," Tardaesha smiled as she hurried past the paralyzed man and into the magister's room.
Behind her, Lemmy cracked his knuckles as he grinned evilly at the soldier.
"Yeah, me too!" he chuckled.
Tardaesha didn't hear the geokinetic blast go off, as she'd already entered the silence zone, but she felt the vibration beneath her feet.

As Tardaesha entered his room, Tacitus stared in bewilderment. He saw the face of his friend, Father Donnagin, but he could not reconcile that fact with the more immediate one that Donnagin was with people who were trying to kill him. He raised his hands pleadingly towards the priest, only to have Tardaesha slash him viciously with the sword she suddenly brandished. Tacitus fell back and tried to flee towards his laboratory, but before he'd gone two steps, Roger cut him down.

_______________________________________________________________

Tardaesha peered into the room that Tacitus had been making for. It was a poorly lit and crowded chamber full of tables laden with strange equipment and apparatuses. On a slab in the center of the room rested a large form seemingly made of ice. Kelvin stepped up beside his sister.
"An ice golem," he said, identifying the creature. "It's good you stopped the magister from reaching this room. If he'd been able to activate it, we would have had a problem on our hands."
Tardaesha nodded thoughtfully.
"That gives me and idea," she smiled.

________________________________________________________________

Lemmy, Katarina and Kelvin led the way up to the top floor of the keep. They reached the landing just as a soldier posted there climbed to the top of one of the ladders leading to the roof battlements. The man lifted the door and called up to the guards above.
"Oy! We've got some trouble down here! You lot need to get down here on the double!"
It was at that point that Tardaesha arrived.
"Good work soldier!" she cried out in Donnagin's voice. The second silence spell had also come an end. "The Magister's ice beast has gotten loose!!"

The first soldier clambered back down the ladder, closely followed by three others from the roof. No sooner had they all gathered around Tardaesha than Kelvin, still invisible, cast a blinding glitterdust spell. The flash of light caused three of the guards to cry out in pain and surprise as their hands went to their eyes. Kat leaped up and stabbed the fourth soldier through the throat with her dagger, sending him gurgling to the floor.
"The dwarves!" 'Aesha cried. "They've betrayed us!!"
As she moved away from the melee, Lemmy proved her accusation by blasting another of the soldiers, crushing his skull with flying debris, and then Roger gutted a third one, leaving only one of the men still standing, blind and panicked.

"Lay down your arms," a booming voice called out from behind the combatants, lest you further endanger your lives and your very souls with this villainy!"
The members of the 9th Knot turned as one, and saw a man outfitted in gleaming plate armor standing in the door of the Lord's study. He held a shield in one hand, emblazoned with the symbol of Iomedae, and a well-crafted longsword in the other. It was none other than Lord Commander Havelyn himself.
"Why don't ye lay down on this!?" Lemmy sneered, lifting his finger in an obscene gesture.
Havelyn's face reddened, and he raised his shield and advanced forward...until Kelvin placed a grease spell beneath his feet, at which point they slipped out from under him and he landed flat on his back...hard. His face growing an even a darker shade of red, he climbed clumsily to his feet, but as he struggled to do so, Roger rushed in. He swung for the Lord Commander's neck, but at the last moment, Havelyn raised his shield and the blow glanced off it, striking him instead on his upper arm.
"Blackguard!!" Havelyn roared, somehow sensing the aura of evil that surrounded the anti-paladin.
He raised his sword high, and as he did so it crackled with golden energy.
"By Iomedae's might I smite at thee!!" he cried
His blade came around in a mighty arc, and though Roger got his shield up, the blow drove it aside and cleaved through his breastplate and deep into his flesh. Grunting in pain, the half-orc gave ground.

"That's it, Lord Commander!" Tardaesha called. "Just hang on for another moment! I'll come to your aid!"
Havelyn looked up and saw Father Donnagin moving towards him. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.
"Hold!" he commanded. "Donnagin of St. Macarius is like a brother to me, and you, Sir, are not him! Come no closer lest I strike thee down!"
"Not if I gut you first!" Kat snarled from behind the paladin as she drove her dagger through a gap in his armor and deep into his armpit.
Havelyn snarled, whirled, and hit Kat so hard that she slammed into a nearby wall and bounced off, stunned. He turned back towards Roger and raised his sword to finish him off, but then Lemmy was there. The dwarf sent a concussive blast of rocks and earth into the Lord Commander, driving him several steps away from Roger. Before he could recover, Kelvin bombarded him with a magic missile salvo. That gave Tardaesha an opening. Sheathing her sword, she reached out and touched Havelyn with her bare hand. Dark energy wreathed her palm and Havelyn grimaced in agony as corruption filled him. Then, one final blast from Lemmy knocked him from his feet. He did not rise again.

_______________________________________________________________

As Katarina finished off the last of the blinded soldiers, Roger bent down to examine Havelyn, insuring he was dead. He absently placed one hand on the paladin's burnished breast plate, and as he did so the armor transformed before his eyes. No longer shining plate mail, it had become black and baroque, adorned with the infernal iconography of Lord Asmodeus. Roger felt a tingle in his head and knew that his Master was indeed pleased. Events had been set into motion, and there was no going back. Either Balentyne would fall that night, or the Nessian Knot would perish.


22 Rova, 4716 - 6 Lamashan, 4716 - Beyond The Wall

The door to the great hall abruptly opened, and the four guardsman stationed outside them turned in unison. It had been some time since Father Donnagin had ordered them out of the keep and they were starting to become restless. Standing in the doors was not the priest, however, but Corporal Sam Rogers, one of Captain Barhold's men.
"Boys," Rogers nodded, "The Lord Commander wants the lot of you up in his conference room on the double."
"What's going on now?" Private Wilson asked. "I thought the place was under quarantine. Aren't we gonna get sick?"
Rogers shrugged. "Who do I look like? Father Donnagin? I'm just following orders, gents, and I suggest you do the same."

Though they continued to grumble, the four men fell in line behind Corporal Rogers and followed him up the stairs to the fourth floor of the keep. The fact that they did not see any other guards along the way did not immediately concern them. The others had likely been commandeered by Father Donnagin to help with the Magister. Rogers threw open the doors to the conference room, which appeared to be unoccupied.
"Have a seat," he gestured towards the table. "The Lord Commander's at his prayers. He'll be out in a minute."
The soldiers looked at one another. Whatever this was, it must be serious if they were being invited to sit down. They each drew out a chair at the long oak table and made themselves comfortable. From behind the door leading to the Lord Commander's private chamber they could hear the sounds of chanting. They smiled at each other knowingly. The commander was a pious man.

The door to Havelyn's private quarters suddenly opened, and a strange, dark-haired woman stood there. The soldiers stared, perplexed. What was a young, attractive woman doing in the Lord Commander's room? That was when they noticed something even stranger: the conference room had suddenly become silent as a tomb. They couldn't even hear themselves breathing. There was more movement from behind the woman as several figures stepped through the door after her. One of them was a dwarf. The guards recognized him as one of the engineers. He held out one hand towards them, and as he did so chunks of rock and dirt came flying out of it. The debris struck Private Wilson full in the face and he was hurled backwards out of his chair. He hit the wall behind him and slumped to the floor, blood gushing from his crushed skull. One of the other soldiers started to rise, but a robed young man emerged from behind the dwarf and pointed a finger at him. Bolts of streaking blue light came from the man's finger. The guard saw several bright flashes, felt a brief moment of pain, and then knew no more. By this time the remaining two guards were on their feet, but were still much too slow. Before they could draw their weapons, a large, burly man wearing baroque plate armor charged towards them, sword in one hand and shield in the other. He slashed viciously and disemboweled one of the men. The last one fell with a pair of arrows sticking out his throat. The last thing he saw was the smiling face of Dakota as she lowered her bow.

_________________________________________________________

Lord Commander Havelyn strode purposefully across the Bridge of Death towards the gatehouse, flanked by a soldier on one side and a dwarf engineer on the other. Or rather, Tardaesha made that walk accompanied by Lemmy and Katarina. The soldiers on duty in the winch room were taken aback when they saw the retinue, fumbling hurriedly to snap to attention.
"Raise the portcullis," 'Aesha commanded in Havelyn's voice.
"S...Sir?" one of the guards asked, perplexed.
"You heard me, soldier," 'Aesha replied. "Surprise inspection. I want to make sure the most important piece in this tower's security is being properly maintained. Is there some reason that I should be concerned about that?"
"N...no Sir!" the guard stammered.
"Excellent," 'Aesha nodded. "Then snap to it. I'll have Master Killmister of the engineers go over it with a fine-toothed comb.

The four guards hurried to the twin winches and cranked them as fast as they could go, slowly raising the heavy portcullis below. Once it was locked in position they backed away so that Lemmy could inspect it. Kat stood behind him, occasionally pointing out this or that, to which Lemmy nodded and muttered. What the guards did not see were the slim tools in Kat's hands, which she put to use jamming the winch mechanism so that the portcullis could not be lowered again. At that moment, however, one of the trapdoors in the ceiling above banged open, and Captain Barhold climbed rapidly down the ladder.
"What is the meaning of this!?" he demanded. "Who ordered that gate opened!?"
"I did," Tardaesha said, stepping into view.
Barhold turned and stared at her.
"Who are you supposed to be?" he sneered
"I don't think I like your tone, Captain," 'Aesha said coldly. "You would do well to remember the chain of command."
"Oh, I'm quite aware of who my commander is," Barhold snarled, "and you're not him! Guards! Seize this imposter!"
Tardaesha thought quickly, then turned to the guards as well.
"He's a spy!" she shouted, drawing her greatsword and pointing at Barhold.
The guards hesitated, looking back and forth between the two officers. Their confusion ended a moment later when Lemmy blasted one of them off his feet.
"Take them alive!" Barhold commanded as he stepped forward with his own blade raised, and brought it down solidly upon Tardaesha's, snapping her steel in half.

______________________________________________________________

"This is not good," Roger said.
He was standing on the parapet rooftop of the main keep, looking towards the gatehouse where he could hear the distant clangs of steel on steel. He moved quickly to the trapdoor and slid down the ladder.
"We've got trouble," he said to Kelvin, who was seated at the Lord Commander's desk. "Something's gone wrong at the gatehouse."
Kelvin rose to his feet and started for the stairs.
"Stay here," he told Roger, Dakota and Dorian. "If you don't hear word from me in the next ten minutes, seal the lower staircase back. And take this,"
He handed Roger the signal flare the Fire-Axe had given them.
"You know what to do with it."

_________________________________________________________________

Katarina spun around behind one of the guards and jammed a dagger through the base of his skull. Tardaesha held one hand out placatingly towards Barhold, but when her flesh touched his, she released the corruption.
"You see!" she shouted to the remaining guards as the captain snarled in pain. "Iomedae's touch undoes this imposter! He and his minions seek to shatter our defenses!"
Lemmy blasted Barhold from behind, and the captain whirled on him, striking him a crushing blow across the chest with the flat of his blade. The two guards, now thoroughly confused, raised their signal horns to their lips and sounded the alarm.

_________________________________________________________________

"That's it then," Roger said, once more on the keep's roof, where he heard the horns plainly. "It's now or never."
He placed the flare on the flagstones and pulled the fuse. A moment later a crimson ball shot high into the night sky, illuminating the landscape for miles in all directions.

______________________________________________________________

Tardaesha grabbed Captain Barhold by the throat and channeled her unholy power through him again, leaving him unsteady on his feet. Katarina darted in behind him and slashed across the back of his thigh with her knife. The leg crumpled and he dropped heavily to one knee. Gleefully, Lemmy leaped towards the captain, both hands outstretched, prepared to blast him full in the face, but Barhold got his blade between them and thwacked the dwarf across the temple with its broadside. Lemmy staggered back and Barhold climbed shakily to his feet to follow. This time when he swung his sword, it was the edge that sliced the geomancer from shoulder to shoulder. Lemmy fell like a sack of bricks.

The other trapdoor in the roof was thrown open from above, and four more soldiers scrambled down the ladders. Her eyes burning, Tardaesha allowed dark energy to flow from her. Arcs of black fire flared around the room, striking all of the combatants, including Katarina and the unconscious Lemmy. Katarina did not fault her sister. Collateral damage was unavoidable sometimes. Instead, she took advantage of the chaos to launch herself at Barhold and drive her blade to the hilt into his gut. Grunting, he exhaled heavily and fell forward face-first into the cauldron of scalding sand.

The door between the gatehouse and the Bridge of Death suddenly burst open as two more guards, drawn by the sounds of battle, barged in. Tardaesha immediately turned towards them.
"Captain Barhold is inciting a mutiny!" she cried. "Defend us so that we may alert the keep!"
The soldiers looked uncertain, and then one of them pointed at Tardaesha accusingly.
"That's not the Lord Commander!" he shouted. "Imposter!"
Tardaesha turned to the other one.
"He's with the traitors!" she shouted.
The second soldier looked between his comrade and his commander for a moment, then his eyes grew hard.
"Fall back, Lord Commander!" he yelled. "I'll guard your retreat!"
'Aesha didn't hesitate. She ducked behind the guard, through the door and out onto the bridge. Katarina somersaulted through the intervening soldiers to join her. Once they were both clear, the soldier defending them slammed the door shut behind them.

"I do so appreciate loyalty," Tardaesha smiled as she and Katarina fled back across the bridge.
"What about Lemmy?" Kat asked.
"He's safer back there than with us," 'Aesha replied. "These simpletons have too much honor to kill a helpless foe."
As they neared the other end of the bridge, two soldiers came running into view from the battlements.
"There's been a mutiny!" Tardaesha repeated her tale. "Hold the bridge! We're going to fetch the magister!"
The soldiers nodded and turned towards the gatehouse just its door burst open. As more soldiers began pouring out of it, a fiery explosion engulfed them.
"It's the magister!" Tardaesha shouted. "He's come to our aid! Hurry! The traitors have raised the portcullis! You must lower it!"
The two soldiers nodded again and sprinted across the bridge. As the smoke and flames from Kelvin's well-timed fireball cleared, it was obvious that most of those caught in it were dead.
"Wait for it," Tardaesha smiled at her sister as the other two guards reached the gatehouse.
Another explosion, and this time, no one was left standing.

____________________________________________________________________

Tardaesha began rallying soldiers as they came hurrying up out of the lower levels, responding to the alarms and explosions.
"Get to the gatehouse!" she commanded. "Search for survivors and get that portcullis down!"
They hurried to do the bidding of the Lord Commander. Two returned a few minutes later, bearing Lemmy between them.
"It's one of the engineers, Sir!" one soldier said. "He's badly injured, but he'll live. The portcullis is jammed up tight. We can't lower it."
"Damn it all!" 'Aesha cursed. "All of the other engineers are back in town with cholera. Help me get this one to the keep. We need to have Father Donnagin tend to him and get him back on his feet. Then maybe he can fix the cursed thing."

The soldiers followed Tardaesha and Kat back to the keep and carried Lemmy upstairs. That was when 'Aesha ordered Roger and the others to kill them. Once that was done, Roger and. Dakota moved the heavy stone cap back into place over the stairwell to the great hall. Then it became a waiting game.

Sakkarot Fire-Axe had said that it would take approximately one hour to bring his men to the keep after the signal flare was launched, and he was correct in his timing. In their thousands, the bugbears and their allies streamed over the landscape. They were not completely without siege equipment: groups of shaggy murderers wielded great tree trunks as battering rams, though they didn't really need them as the portcullis stood raised to admit them into Balentyne. The remaining soldiers did put up some resistance, though with none of their leaders present to provide order and tactics, the outcome was never in doubt. The bugbear losses could have been much worse. Sakkarot himself emerged unscathed from the battle and much heartened by his success, though it still took most of the following day to get the whole body of his horde moved up and through the Watchtower gates. The citizenry of Aldencross fled in terror, spreading word of the invasion led by a monster who wielded an axe of flame. The war had begun and Talingarde had lost its first battle.

____________________________________________________________

During the course of the fighting, the members of the Nessian Knot avoided the worst of it and made their way back down into the secret tunnel that led to the Lord's Dalliance. There they found Timeon waiting for them, watching over the naked, beaten and barely conscious personage of Father Donnagin. The next few hours were consumed with the ritual Tardaesha and Roger performed, which ultimately involved the gruesome sacrifice of the Iomedaen priest. As his life's blood pooled beneath the inverted crucifix upon which he'd been hung, it began to smolder and then boil as some...thing...emerged from it. An ever-gnashing maw, filled with row after row of mismatched teeth, dominated the frightful creature's orb-like body, yet it was tiny, no bigger than a mouse. Tardaesha held out her hand palm up, and the horrid little abomination flew to it. She smiled down at it and nuzzled it affectionately.
"He says his name is Knick-Knack," she said, smiling as she turned to show off the cacodaemon, her new companion, to the others.

____________________________________________________________________

"Look what I found," Katrina said holding out a well-worn leather-bound book towards Kelvin.
" 'Found?' " her brother asked suspiciously.
Kat just shrugged. "I was investigating the Lord Commander's quarters. Didn't want to miss anything important. The place was like a shrine, with a painting of a very lovely young woman surrounded by candles. Poor sap. Anyway, this was tucked away behind the it."
Kelvin flipped through the pages and snorted.
"An Iomedaen bible," he said disdainfully. "So? I'm sure every sun-worshiper in this place has one like it."
"Not like this one," Kat explained, taking the book and turning to the back.
Tucked away inside was a detailed chart of Lord Havelyn's family tree, but there was one entry that had been carefully blotted out. Still barely discernible was the name 'Samuel Havelyn, Cardinal of Iomedae.'
"Cardinal?" Kelvin raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don't believe..."
"I'm not jumping to any conclusions," Kat raised her hands. "It just seems a bit coincidental that Thorn sent us to take out this particular fortress, where a man of an age to be his brother was stationed as commander."
"We'll keep it," Kelvin said thoughtfully, tucking the book into his satchel. "It may be a useful bargaining chip at some point."

______________________________________________________________________

Tardaesha broke the clay seal that Thorn had given them to use upon completion of their mission. Within moments Tiadora appeared among them. Wordlessly, she gestured for them to follow her. She led them back to the basement of the Lord's Dalliance, and then out onto the streets of Aldencross. The town was in flames, and savage humanoids danced with glee in the lurid light cast by the fires. None of them dared approach Tiadora nor her charges, however. She led them through the darkness until they once again reached the shores of Lake Tarik, where a ship lay at anchor. On the dock sat a large coffer, and Tiadora lifted it easily and handed it to Roger. He opened it, revealing ten platinum ingots and a folded note. Kelvin drew out the latter and read it aloud.
"Our Lord smiles upon your success. Here is a token of my esteem. Use it to rest, recover and strengthen yourselves. Other commands will come when the Knot is needed. You work has just begun-A."

From the promontory where they stood, the members of the Knot could see the great bugbear horde camped south of the Watch Wall. Balentyne yet burned behind them.
"I have seen no evidence of an army gathering to meet the horde," Tiadora remarked. "It seems Zadaria has also succeeded at her mission, and has assassinated the commanders. Truly, a great achievement. Making matters worse for poor Talingarde, small bands of creatures unaligned with Sakkarot approached the breach, eager to take advantage of the chaos. How could these beasts know already about this break in the Watch Wall? Someone must have told them. Probably best to leave. This region is about to become very dangerous. Still, this will not be enough. Balentyne may be broken but Talingarde is yet strong. Soon word will reach the south. The Heartland and the great cities of the Cambrian Bay will marshal their armies. They will meet Sakkarot on the field and it will be far too close to a fair fight. We must do something about that. Come, my lords, your ship awaits. Try not to burn this one."

Lords. She had called them lords. And lords they were. Lords of death and destruction. Lords of evil. They remembered Branderscar. They remembered being held down and branded like animals. How far they had come and how long yet the journey before them. Tiadora was right. This was only their first steps along the way of the wicked.

Grand Lodge

Dotting.


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24 Rova, 4716- 11 Lamashan, 4716 - Farholde

The members of the Nessian Knot boarded the ramshackle river barge Halstyn's Folly behind Tiadora. The captain and three crewmen bowed and scraped before her as she strode imperiously across the deck. The accommodations were crude with only one cabin, which Tiadora had already commandeered. It appeared as if everyone else would be sleeping on the deck, which had a roof but no walls. The nights were going to be chilly. Tiadora wasted no time. As soon as everyone was aboard, she commanded the captain to cast off.

"Where are we going?" Tardaesha asked as the boat got moving.
"We are bound for Farholde," Tiadora replied cooly, "the northernmost colony of Talingarde."
"Why there?" 'Aesha pressed.
"To bring Talingarde to its knees," Tiadora said. "The master will reveal more when he is ready."
"Are you coming with us?" 'Aesha asked, daring to touch one finger to the older woman's arm.
"I am tasked to escort you to Farholde," she said flatly, "and to introduce you to old friends of the master. Once that is done, I have other errands. Why? Will you miss me, dearest?"
"Actually, I will," Tardaesha smiled.
Tiadora just looked at her for a moment, her lips twitching slightly. Then she turned and went into her cabin.

___________________________________________________________

The barge moved slowly along the great scar that almost cut the isle of Talingarde in twain, bound for Farholde, which lay some three-hundred miles to the west. The sluggish vessel made barely twenty-four miles a day, which meant its journey would take a dozen days. Each night, the captain anchored within sight of a village or keep, though no one ever went ashore. Each morning, as the barge resumed its voyage, Tiadora would stand on the deck and watch the receding settlements as the distant sounds of wailing and mourning reached the ears of the ship's passengers. No one dared to question her about this.

On the twelfth night of the trip, Tiadora stepped out of her cabin.
"The master is here and commands you to attend him," she said grimly, then turned and went back inside.
Puzzled, the group looked at one another and then hurriedly followed. Waiting for them was none other than Cardinal Adrastus Thorn himself. He was clad in black and burgundy robes with black gloves, and openly displayed a silver pentagram of Asmodeus. He greeted the Knot and then quickly turned to business.
"You have served me faithfully, my ninth knot," he began, "and I have rewarded you both in treasure and vengeance. Thanks to your efforts, the Fire-Axe has been unleashed. Even now he writes his name in blood across the Borderlands.
Three battles have been fought and three victories won. The villages of Ambryl and Tarrington Fields lay sacked. The fortress of Lorringsgate is in ruins. Each of you did your part in seeing these triumphs come to fruition. Do not think I have forgotten that. But our work is not yet done. Talingarde has not yet acquiesced to our unholy master nor tasted the full measure of our vengeance. So I have another mission for you. Tomorrow this barge will dock in Farholde, the northernmost town in all the realm. Farholde is a backwater of no real significance. Its lord has already left the place, hoping for glory in the war. But it does border the Caer Bryr, the largest unmapped forest on the entire island.
Hidden within the Caer Bryr is the Horn of Abaddon, an ancient temple once occupied by a particularly loathsome death cult called The Sons of the Pale Horseman. Almost eighty years ago the first Darian King, Markadian I, called the Victorious, overthrew the Horn and destroyed the Sons. No great loss, honestly. But what the Victor found within the temple is why we are here. He defeated a daemon prince called Vetra-Kali Eats-The-Eyes. So terrified of this monstrosity was the king, that he had the priests of Iomedae craft a great silver seal to forever forbid the daemon from returning to our plane of existence. The seal remains to this day.
I have learned the truth about this daemon prince. I have learned what the Victor feared. Vetra-Kali is an arch-deacon in service to the lord of pestilence. This immortal monster could create a plague so virulent that it would bring Talingarde to its knees.
When the Victor attacked, the daemon prince was close to unleashing his masterpiece upon the world, a pestilence known as the Tears of Achlys. I am uncertain of the specifics of this plague, but if anything could strike terror in the heart of the Victor, then I want it. The Tears of Achlys will be our poisoned dagger into the heart of Talingarde.
I already have agents in the great cities of this kingdom. With this pestilence, they could deliver blight and death to the very center of the realm. Caught between the twin storms of the Fire-Axe and Vetra-Kali's gift, we shall bring ruin to Talingarde. This gift you shall bring me.
It will not be easy. I have already lost one band of followers on this errand. I sent the fourth knot to find the Horn of Abaddon. They succeeded in that at least, revealing to me that it was concealed within a great spire of stone less than a day's ride from Farholde. But then they vanished. I have heard no more from the elven ranger Aiden Kael since. He knew the Caer Bryr well, so no normal hazard would have defeated him. Perhaps the Horn of Abaddon is guarded. I cannot say. But it matters not! The Tears of Achlys must be mine!"
Thorn pounded the table with his fist for emphasis.
"I am undeterred by this setback," he continued, regaining his composure. "Where one knot failed, two will succeed. I will also send my seventh knot, the Knot Hibernal, led by Elise Zadaria. I task you with finding the Horn and calling forth Vetra-Kali. Elise and her knot will aid you. Elise proved herself a capable assassin in our last venture. The seventh knot will remain in Farholde and see that anyone who tries to find the Horn and interfere with your work meets an unhappy end. Thus, you will have time to do what must be done.
There is another who may be able to aid you. Once a thriving cult of Asmodeus existed in Farholde. It was led by a half-elvish noble, the Baron Arkov Vandermir. He is treacherous and decadent, but wealthy and well-connected. Tiadora will introduce you before she departs. I know not what aid the Baron can provide, but his family is old and long has dwelt in Farholde. Never trust him but know this...he's afraid of me and with good reason. If he does try anything remind him that you are in Farholde on my behalf. That should keep him in line.
Find the Horn. Find the seal and shatter it. Call Vetra-Kali back to our world. Bind him to your will and force service from the monster. And then bring his gift to me. Can you do this, my knot? Have I found servants with might and will enough to see this task done?"

Roger cleared his throat.
"Could Aiden Kael still be alive?" he asked. "Should we rescue him?"
"Kael is nothing!" Thorn snapped. "If he is alive, then he has either abandoned his mission or failed at it miserably. Either crime is sufficient to warrant his destruction."
"You mentioned the White Ravens running interference for us should others come looking," Kelvin piped up. "Why would there be others looking if this place has been abandoned for eighty years?"
"There is a rumor that floats around Farholde," Thorn said, "that a lost temple called the Horn of Abaddon contains a great treasure. This draws treasure seekers to try and find the temple. So far they have failed to find it. I know this because of Kael's last report."
Lemmy snorted.
"Damned adventurers! Greedy low-lifes. Can't trust none of'em!"
Ignoring the dwarf, Kelvin pushed ahead.
"Pardon my misgivings, my Lord, but do we really want to unleash a plague daemon?"
Thorn waved one hand dismissively.
"Vetra-Kali is a tool. Nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps if you are clever, once you have his gift you can figure out a way to send him back.'
"Should we just kill him?" Kelvin asked.
"Vetra-Kali is a powerful daemon prince," Thorn scoffed. "He would be a difficult adversary. But perhaps, if you could find a weakness, you could defeat him. Regardless, I care not. Slaying Vetra-Kali is of no import. Retrieving the pestilence is all that matters. Now, if there's nothing else...,"
He rose to his feet, and then withdrew from his robes a clay tablet marked with the symbol of Asmodeus.
"If you recover the Tears or need to report anything to me," he said, "break this seal. I will send Tiadora to wherever you break it within an hour or two. Now go with the blessings of the Prince of Hell and see this mission done!"

_______________________________________________________________

Almost every structure in the city of Farholde was built on one of nine hills surrounding and overlooking Lake Scardynn, which gave onto the open waters of the western sea. Eight of theses hills lay on the southern shore of the lake, while on the northern shore stood the fortress of Hamarhall, the westernmost of the great defensive towers of the Watch Wall. The Folly put in at one of the docks of Corgan's Landing, Farholde's warehouse district, and the members of the Nessian Knot disembarked, followed by Tiadora.
"I have already contacted Baron Vandermir," she said. "I have arranged for all of you to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Meet me here promptly at sunset, and you had best find something presentable to wear."
Then she turned on her heel and vanished into the crowd.

"Well I guess that leaves us to our own devices for the evening," Tardaesha said, clapping her hands together and smiling at her comrades. "I, for one, plan on seeing what I can find out about this Baron before we stumble blindly into his lair tomorrow night."
"And I think I'm going to do some digging of my own," Kat said. "Thorn said that Aiden Kael was here just a couple of weeks ago. Someone must have seen him. I'll see what I can find."
Kelvin nodded. "Just be careful. Both of you. We don't want to attract undue attention. The rest of us will see about securing lodgings for the night. We'll rendezvous later."

___________________________________________________________________

It didn't take Tardaesha long to turn up a few rumors about the Baron. Some thought him an odd sort of recluse who rarely left his manor, while others stated that, without a doubt, he was the most generous man in Farholde, and that it was because of him that the town had an orphanage. It was his lands and estates to the south that provided most of the dry goods for Farholde, so even among those who were suspicious of the Baron, they all respected him.

Katarina was equally productive in her investigation. While making subtle inquiries about a man matching Aiden Kael's description, she heard about an elf that had been staying at the Wandering Friar Inn who had disappeared about three weeks back. It was said that he went into the Caer Bryr and was never seen again. Finding the inn proved easy enough. It was in the Newchurch district of town, so named because the Hall of the Sun Victorious, the church of Iomedae, dominated its center.
"I'm looking for a friend of mine," Kat told the innkeeper. "An elf by the name of Aiden Kael. I was told he was staying here."
"Yep, he was alright," the innkeep spat, "but he up and vanished about three weeks ago and never settled his bill! He was paid up through last week, but now the rent's a week past due. I was just about to declare the room abandoned and have all his stuff cleaned out."
"Wait," Kat said, not believing her luck, "are you saying his belongings are still here?"
"Yep," the man nodded, "and if you take care of his tab, they're yours to do with as you please."
Kat paid the 25 gold coins readily and got the key to the room. Inside, to her further disbelief, a map lay out on a table weighed down by a dagger. Clearly marked at a spot perhaps twenty miles south of town was a mountain labeled "The Horn." Kat quickly rolled up the map, did a fast toss of the rest of the room (turning up a purse with 130 coins...more than enough to compensate her for her expenditure), then hurried out to find her friends.

________________________________________________________________

Tiadora was bedecked brilliantly, all in white, looking like a traveling noble on the way to her wedding. She stood on the docks and looked skeptically at the assortment of attire being modeled by the members of the Nessian Knot. It ranged from affluent finery worn by Tardaesha and Dakota, to essentially a stained shirt Lemmy wore loosely over his armor. Tiadora just shook her head and motioned for them to follow her.
She escorted them through the bustling city until they reached an obviously prosperous part of town called Calliver's Green, located on a gently sloping hill. It was a gated community, and Tiadora approached the guard confidently.
"Baron Vandermir is expecting us," she said.
Of course, my lady. This way," he replied nervously after consulting a list.
There were only six manors in the neighborhood, and the guard led the group to what was arguably the most impressive and opulent of them. The front door was secured by two more guards wearing armor and livery. They stepped forward as the retinue approached. Kelvin noted the heraldry they wore. It was a variation on that of House Barca, the royal elvish line deposed by the current Darian regime. It also marked them as servants of the Baron of Westell and Mir, farming towns south of Farholde.
"No stranger may go before the Baron armed," one of the men said, eyeing the assortment of weapons sported by the visitors.
Tiadora turned to the others and raised one eyebrow, obviously impatient. Sighing, everyone began divesting themselves of their armaments. Only Kat, who had no less than a dozen daggers secreted upon her person, opted to hold a couple of the more well-concealed ones in reserve. The guards did not bother to search her.
A butler took charge of the Baron's guests at the door, and they were attended to by a small squad of servants who offered them brandy and hors d'oeuvres, which were a selection of tasty little beef skewers and crunchy, spicy crayfish puffs. Finally, the dinner bell was sounded and they were escorted into the main dining room.

Baron Arkov Vandermir stood at the head of the table. He was a handsome half-elf dressed in burgundy and white, and he appeared quite young, even boyish, though he was easily over a century old. Only his eyes betrayed a calculating, wicked soul.
"Welcome," he said, raising his glass to his guests.
When all were seated, dinner was served amidst polite formalities. Once the servants were dismissed, however, the Baron abruptly became all business.
"You come to me as beggars," he began without preamble, "the last remnants of a forbidden faith. You will promise me much, of that I have no doubt. But all that I am likely to earn from helping you is the inquisitor's pyre. Tell me, why should I help the likes of you?"
"Because there is an inferno coming," Kelvin leaned forward and spoke calmly but earnestly, "and you need to choose which side of it you're going to be on."
Vandermir sat back in his chair and remained silent for a moment.
"You know of our work in Aldencross," Kelvin said. "We were very...effective, yet none knew we were even there."
"The same cannot be said for the sequence of events that landed you in Branderscar," the Baron smirked.
"That was before we made the acquaintance of Cardinal Thorn," Kelvin replied. "You are familiar with him, aren't you?"
Vandermir's face paled a shade.
"I see that you are," Kelvin smiled. "Know this: all that we do, we do at his behest. Rest assured that if we fail in our assignment, we will burn well before you do. Our reputation, not to mention our necks, are at stake here as well. We will keep things contained."
The Baron folded his hands and sighed.
"I suppose you are correct," he said at length. "I lived through the Asmodean purges of Markadian IV, the so-called 'Zealous,' and saw many of my fellow stripped of title and fortune and burned at the stake. I have lived my entire life in the shadow of House Darius, and my hatred for them is a mile wide. Here then is what I can do for you: I can provide you with accommodations and a safe house. My manor has a secret tunnel that runs to a small hovel at the base of the hill. You may come and go at will without anyone observing your movements. Second, I can grant you almost total legal immunity in Farholde, as long as you're not caught red-handed doing some heinous deed. My word that you were with me will excuse any suspicion of your involvement in any crimes. Have a care, however. An excess of blatant law-breaking will eventually attract the attention of the inquisitors. Third, I have many contacts among the...less reputable merchants who operate in and around the city. I can grant you access to poisons and more sinister magics. I can also help you fence any suspicious items you recover from your journeys. There is a section of town known as Drownington. It lays below sea level between the hills, and it is as close to a lawless neighborhood as you will find in Farholde. Have a care when you journey there, but it is a good place to recruit rogues and ruffians. In fact, I have established an orphanage there which is actually a front for just that sort of thing. Lastly, I am also an accomplished enchanter. If you happen to need someone...persuaded, I will be glad to lend my assistance."

"Well then," Tiadora said, rising abruptly to her feet, "that's settled. Shall we take our leave?"
The others stood, as did Baron Vandermir.
"There is...one other thing," Tardaesha said.
Tiadora looked irritated, while Vandermir looked wary.
"We have an...associate," 'Aesha said. "His name is Timeon, and he is very dear to me. I was wondering if you might find some gainful employment for him."
Vandermir nodded slightly, suspicion still on his face.
"I'll see what I can do."

______________________________________________________________

Tiadora took her leave immediately after leaving the manor, telling the companions that the 7th Knot would be arriving the next day. The members of the ninth made their way back to their inn for the night. Once Tardaesha was alone with Dakota, she opened her cloak and clucked her tongue. There was a rustle from an inside pocket, and then Knick-Knack sprang out and onto the bed, slavering and slobbering.
"Hello my love," Tardaesha cooed at the little fiend. "Mommy is sorry she left you cooped all night, but we're home now and Mommy needs you to do something for her."
The cacodaemon bobbed up and down excitedly. Tardaesha stared deeply into its eyes for several long moments, and gradually its gaze grew distant and glazed.
"Tell me," Tardaesha whispered, communing through the creature with the lower planes, "is the map we found to the Horn correct?"
Knick-Knack nodded once.
"Will the 7th Knot betray us?" 'Aesha asked the second of the six queries she was allowed.
Knick-Knack shrugged his whole body, indicating that the possibility was uncertain.
Tardaesha frowned.
"Will Cardinal Thorn betray us?" she asked.
Knick-Knack shrugged again.
She tried a different approach.
"Is Aiden Kael still alive?"
Knick-Knack shook his head vigorously.
"Did he die in the Horn?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
"Will Vetra-Kali be hostile towards us should we free him?" Tardaesha asked with her final question.
To this, Knick-Knack nodded once, slowly and emphatically.

__________________________________________________

The following day found the Nessians gathered on the docks once more as another small barge tied off at the pier. Elise Zadaria, Dostan Alfson, and Trik and Trak Rackburn disembarked shortly after.
"May I die a thousand times before I see another filthy boat!" Elise groused as she came down the gangway. "Curse Tiadora and her tedious side-trips."
"Tiadora?" Kelvin asked. "You were traveling with Tiadora?"
"Of course," Elise snapped. "For the past two weeks, stopping every night at some peasant-filled hamlet or another."
"Really?" Kelvin nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting."
"Hardly," the leader of the White Ravens sniffed. "The only thing I'm interested in is a hot bath, a warm meal and a soft bed."
"We have arranged rooms for you," Kelvin smiled. "We can discuss our agendas after you're more comfortable."

Some time later, the two Knots sat around a large table in a private dining room of The Auld Briarhall inn, located in the Auld'Irey district of Farholde, the most densely populated and therefore the easiest to remain inconspicuous. Kelvin briefed the White Ravens on what they had discovered thus far, namely a map to the Horn, and the fact that Aiden Kale was indeed dead.
"More's the pity," Elise smirked. "So when will you depart?"
"Tomorrow," Kelvin replied. "What of yourselves? What is your role here, as you understand it?"
"It is my intention in the next few months," Elise said, "to have spies set up in every inn, tavern and anywhere else adventurers and explorers might congregate. When you do find the Horn of Abaddon, contact me. For those groups I can't personally dispatch, I'll send a messenger with any information I can gather. It is my job to keep your distractions to a minimum during your endeavors."
Kelvin smiled and raised his glass to her.
"To allies and mutually beneficial partnerships," he said.
The members of both Knots raised their cups as well, but Kelvin was not sure that what he saw in Elise Zadaria's eyes reflected the sentiment.

__________________________________________________________

The northern Caer Bryr was a temperate rainforest richly blessed with rain fall and broadleaf trees. The trees were tall and broad, with the thick-trunked baobab, unusual in such a wet clime, a common sight and growing to enormous size. Some trees were hundreds of feet tall with trunks easily twenty feet across. To walk into the deep Briar was to enter the domain of giants. Every flat surface was covered with brilliant green moss and lichens in every hue. Mushrooms of a million sorts proliferated and crowded every fallen log. Small animal life was dense, with squirrels, voles, mice and white-faced ghost monkeys all represented. Birds dwelt there in endless variety, and dazzling panoramas of plumage were everywhere on display. It was a bountiful place, rich and thriving with nature's splendor. Yet perhaps the single most famous feature of the northern Briar were the great stone spires. They proliferated everywhere in the jungle, rising hundreds of feet above the forest floor, their foliage covers providing homes to countless wildlife.

The Nessian Knot made its way through this forest, following the trail depicted on Aiden Kael's map. By Kat's best estimate, they should reach the Horn in less than a day. They had already been on the hunt for several hours, and though haunting in its beauty, the Briar had provided nothing in the way of overt danger, other than the very real possibility of getting lost.
"We should be getting close," Kat said, peering at the map as the sun drifted towards the western horizon.
"That's good," Roger said in a low voice, "because we're being watched."
The others immediately looked around, causing the big half-orc to roll his eyes.
"Subtle," he said.
"I see it!" Dorian said. "Over there!"
Kat and Tardaesha looked where he pointed, and at first just saw more trees...until one of them moved.
"It's a treant!" Dorian hissed. "Self-righteous piece of walking lumber!"
"Easy," Tardaesha said softly. "That fact might work in our favor. We are just innocent travelers. There should be no reason for hostility."

The huge, tree-like creature lumbered towards them, then called out in a booming voice.
"Hullo little ones! I am Jurak, called the Eldest. What are you doing here wandering alone in the wilds?"
"We are explorers," Tardaesha replied with her most winning smile. "We did not realize that we might be trespassing."
"Not trespassing," Jurak said, "but you have happened upon the Horn of Abaddon, a cursed place once of great corruption. It is my sacred charge to see that evil never again takes root here."
"The Horn of Abaddon??" Kat exclaimed. "That is what we have come looking for! We had heard it was a place of great wickedness, and a friend of ours set out in search of it some time ago. We have not heard back from him and grew concerned."
Jurak mused, humming tunelessly to himself for a moment.
"This friend," he asked at length. "Was he elven?"
"Yes!" Kat nodded. "His name was Aiden Kael. Have you seen him?"
Jurak nodded slowly.
"Alas, yes," he rumbled. "He too I warned away. Though the Horn is empty, the lower caverns have been overrun by boggards. Foul, vile creatures, curse them! Your friend would not listen. He went in, but he never came out."
Kat's face fell.
"We must go after him!" she cried. "Please, will you help us?"
Jurak hummed a bit longer.
"I will accompany you, young ones," he finally said. "The caverns are too low for me to enter, but I will await you outside and ensure that no enemies approach from that direction."
Kat threw her arms around the talking tree in an exuberant hug.

_________________________________________________________

The Horn of Abaddon appeared no different than any of the dozens of other spires the Knot had seen on their trek through the Briar, but Jurak assured them that it was the place they sought. He pointed towards a broad, open cave at the base of the spire.
"There is where you will find the boggard filth," he rumbled.
Higher up the mountain could be seen four smaller cave openings, one about fifty feet up, another at one-hundred feet, a third at approximately one-hundred fifty feet, and a last one hight atop the peak, some four-hundred above the forest floor.

Cautiously, the seven companions approached the lower opening, which was filled with many stalactites, stalagmites and columns of wet, living stone, giving it the appearance of fangs contained by a large, loathsome grin. The floor of the cave entrance was covered by countless small pools of standing, fetid water and ubiquitous slicks of mud that made the footing uncertain. A large tunnel led deeper into the mountain from the back of the cave, as did a pair of smaller ones to the right of the entrance. For no particular reason, Tardaesha chose one of those to begin their exploration. It traveled a short distance before opening into a small, wet cave that contained a clear pool on one side, the wall above it literally sweating moisture. Two more tunnels led from the chamber, and Tardaesha chose to continue traveling east. This passage soon dead-ended in a dripping cavern that also contained a pool, though it was murky and populated with blind, white fish. With no way forward, the group back-tracked and chose the northern tunnel from the previous chamber. This led them to a four-way intersection, and Tardaesha turned left. At a T-shaped intersection, she turned right, seeing that the left-had passage led back to the main entrance. The new tunnel opened into a wide cavern with many stalagmites and shadowy corners, though a path remained clear down its center. Tardaesha was just about to start across the room, when she caught a brief flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye.

Roger saw the movement as well, just as a creature came leaping out of the darkness. As it jumped high into the air, it looked like nothing so much as a bipedal frog. It clutched a massive greatsword in its hands, and emitted a head-pounding croak. From around the edges of the cavern, this croak was echoed by several more, sending a chill down Lemmy's spine. The creature landed in front of Roger and brought the sword down in a powerful slash that knocked the anti-paladin backwards, opening a large rent in his breastplate. Four more of the creatures, smaller and armed with spears, then came leaping out of the darkness. As they gathered, Kelvin tossed a bead of fire into their midst. It exploded a moment later, leaving all four as smoking piles of burned flesh and bone. The larger boggard managed to leap aside, avoiding the worst of the blast, but ended up landing too close to Tardaesha. She swung her own blade and heard the satisfying crack of bone as it came down on the creature's thigh. Spitting and hissing, it continued to hop about madly. Dorian sent a bolt of flames into its back, while Kelvin loosed a magic missile volley that struck unerringly. Lemmy bombarded it with a barrage of stones and debris, and Kat drove her dagger towards its belly, hoping to disembowel it, but only managing a grazing blow as the boggard twisted away at the last second. It landed behind Roger and pummeled him a second time, sending him reeling into a nearby wall. As it turned to follow and finish him off, however, Kat thrust with her dagger again, driving it into the base of the creature's skull. It fell heavily to the floor and flopped there for a moment like a hooked fish.

_________________________________________________________________

"How do I look?" Tardaesha asked.
"Ridiculous," Dorian snorted.
"I don't know," Dakota said, eyeing her sister. "I think you look kind of cute...for a frog dude!"
The others burst out laughing, and 'Aesha joined them. She felt rather ridiculous, truth be told, having used her iron circlet to effect the visage of the largest of the boggards. She hoped fervently that he had been some sort of leader or champion, otherwise her plan might be the death of them.
"Well, let's just hope the other frog people find me handsome and leaderly," she sniffed, and then turned on her heel and headed for the tunnel on the far side of the chamber.

The short passage led to another intersection, and from the left-hand branch the companions could hear loud croaking. Tardaesha turned that direction and strode purposefully into a truly enormous cavern. Seven crude mud and thatch huts were spaced around the periphery of the cave. Nine boggards stood grouped in the center of the huts staring balefully at the intruders.
'Knick-Knack,' Tardaesha spoke telepathically with her invisible little minion, 'tell them that I have made new friends who have come to warn us of danger. Tell them that these new friends don't speak our language, so this is how they must communicate.'
The cacodaemon relayed the message and the eyes of the boggards grew wide at the voice in their heads. One of them stepped forward. He was adorned with numerous bone and stick fetishes and carried a similarly ornamented staff. He spoke in the croaking tongue of his kind.
'Tell him to speak to you in his head so that our friends can understand,' 'Aesha told Knick-Knack.
"You no understand," the shaman spoke in broken Common, "because you not Kumanda Slays-Nine-Men. Where he?"
Tardaesha sighed. Why could nothing ever be easy?
"We killed him," she replied aloud. "We had hoped to avoid similar violence with the rest of you."
"I see this in dreams," the boggard croaked. "Slayers of Kumanda come to Horn and restore greatness. Then Great Father rise again!"
He turned to his people and croaked at them for a moment. As one they fell to their knees and prostrated themselves.
"This could work," Tardaesha smiled to the others.

___________________________________________________________

The boggard shaman's name was Zikomo Hears-the-Father, and it became quickly apparent that he was insane. At Tardaesha's behest, he led the Knot on a tour of the lower caverns, at times lucid, but at other times he would begin to rave about about the Father's return. He spoke of a time of trials before greatness was restored, and confessed that some of his tribe would perish, but only the weak and unfit. Kumanda, the former chief, was among these, in Zikomo's opinion. The first stop on his tour was Kumanda's hut where he bade his new masters to take anything they pleased, including the chief's two wives. The companions politely declined (though Lemmy did eye them for a long moment before Roger elbowed him in the ribs), instead offering them both to Zikomo, which seemed to please the old seer.

Most of the caves were empty, but in one there was a natural, self-replenishing pool of acid, while another contained a pool in which swam pale-blue fish with delicate thread-like spines on their forefins. Kat was delighted when she saw them, identifying them as death-angel cave tetras whose spines contained a powerful paralytic poison. Zikomo's private cave was dominated by a large and impressive mud and stick hut which contained a shrine in the form of a crude stone block encrusted with old blood. Above the block, drawn in vibrant luminescent paint, was a headache-inducing spiral symbol, surrounded by countless scribbles written in strange iconography. Kelvin recognized the symbol immediately. It was that of Dagon, a demonic deity. He kept this information to himself for the moment. The shaman was a useful ally in the short term, but his chances for long-term survival had just dropped considerably.

In the last of a long line of seemingly empty, wet caves, notable only for a distinctive blue slime mold that covered one wall, Zikomo paused and cocked his head as if listening.
"The Father tell me something important here. Something to help Horn, but I not find it in months of looking."
"Mind if I give it a try?" Kat asked, not waiting for a reply.
She began canvassing the perimeter of the cave with her sharp eyes, taking note of even the smallest details and imperfections. Suddenly she paused at one wall and knelt down, peering at a spot near the floor.
"Did you find something?" Kelvin asked.
Kat shrugged. "Maybe. There's a small crack here. Might be nothing, and I'm not sure how we could go about looking on the other side. It's much to small."
"Not for Knick-Knack," Tardaesha said.
The little monster bobbed out of her pocket at the sound of its name.
'See what's in there,' 'Aesha said telepathically.
Knick-Knack nodded once and then darted through the hole. A moment later Tardaesha heard his excited thoughts in her head.
'There's something here, Mistress!' he shouted. 'A skeleton holding a big book! Oh, and a shiny rock!'
'Bring me the book and the rock,' Tardaesha commanded.
A moment later the cacodaemon emerged from the hole, and large, leather-bound book clutched in his teeth. He dropped this at the feet of his mistress, and then spat out what looked to be large, flawless emerald. Zikomo's eyes grew wide.

Kelvin picked up the book and began paging through it.
" 'The Dirges of Apollyon,' " he intoned. "It appears to be a detailed history of the Sons of the Pale Horseman. Not a lot of useful information here....wait...," his voice trailed off.
On the last page of the book was text written in a different hand.
" 'Behold our shame,' " Kelvin began to read aloud, " 'that we, the Sons of the Pale Horseman, failed in our darkest hour to defend our prince, the undying and ever malevolent Vetra-Kali-Eats-the-Eyes. But I have seen it! I have seen the road to repentenance! 666 prayers. Three per day will break the hated Seal. With each prayer, bathe the Seal in unholy water and intone the dirge.
At the stroke of midnight each day, call forth the Supplication to Darkness. Pray to the darkness so that we shall be forgiven. Upon the first midnight make the first sacrifice...one of our own blood...so that Vetra-Kali will know we are repentant.
At the first light of each dawn call forth the Cursing of the Light. Answer the spread of the shining lady's light with our unyielding defiance. Upon the 111th Curse make the second sacrifice...a true believer of Iomedae...so that the cursed goddess of the invaders will know that we fear her not and that her power to hold our master at bay is ending.
At dusk as darkness returns each day cry forth the Call Across the Void. Recite the name of Vetra-Kali so that he may hear us and return. With the final Call offer the third sacrifice...one of the Victor's own blood. By the same blood that caged him so shall our master be freed.
Let ye with wisdom understand. Once the final prayer is uttered upon the 222nd dusk, Vetra-Kali will begin his long traverse across the great wheel. At the stroke of midnight on that day he will emerge into his Sanctum and the Seal shall shatter.
Blessed day! Be ready, my brothers. His eyes have been stolen from him. Return them and the Prince will honor ye with one task for each.
For the Eye of Vigilance ask only for his mercy upon we mortals and plead that he do ye and yours no harm. For his wroth will be great.
For the Eye of Hatred ask for his greatest gift...the Tears of Achlys so that once more every corner of the world may know his mercy.
For the Eye of Withering ask what ye will, for in his gratitude he must answer your charge.
And then behold, the Prince restored. All shall know his blessings of pestilence and despair.
-R. Kappelbrenner.' "

Everyone was silent for a long moment after Kelvin had completed his reading. Finally it was Lemmy who broke the spell.
"Well, looks like we're gonna be here for awhile. Might as well head on upstairs and check out our new digs for the next six months or so."
Kelvin nodded and then bent to retrieve the emerald.
"The eyes of Vetra-Kali," he murmured. "Could this be one of them?"

___________________________________________________________

"What did you find, little ones?" Jurak asked as the Nessians emerged from the lower caverns.
"This," Roger said, tossing the head of the boggard chieftain as his feet.
"Hmmm," Jurak murmured approvingly. "What of the other vermin?"
"Most of them fled," Kelvin replied. "We think they went higher into the Horn, but we couldn't find their escape route. We need to rest and recover for the night, and then we are going back in tomorrow."
"The upper levels are sure to hold more perils," the treant warned. "Remember the fate of your friend."
"We will be cautious," Kelvin smiled.

As the group began to set up camp, Tardaesha moved to the edge of the clearing. She opened her cloak and Knick-Knack peeked out.
'I need you to return to Farholde, my love,' 'Aesha said, stroking the little horror. 'Find Elise Zadaria. Tell her that we have found the Horn, and discovered the ritual for breaking the Seal. Tell her to begin looking for sacrifices. We need to find a possible descendent of one of the Sons of the Pale Horseman, a devotee of Iomedae, and a blood relative of the Victor himself. No easy task, granted, but not insurmountable. Now fly and return to me by dawn'
Knick-Knack licked her face with his drooling tongue and then zipped away into the gathering dusk.

Grand Lodge

Why is it that the games I'm in never seem to be as awesome-cool as the your games? I love these campaign journals.


Nice Thread! Happens that I'm also preparing this campaign for a group of players.
So I'm very curious as how things will develop in the Horn...


Dax Thura wrote:
Why is it that the games I'm in never seem to be as awesome-cool as the your games? I love these campaign journals.

Well, we do have the advantage that the core of our group has been gaming together for the better part of 19 years, so we know each others play styles pretty well by now. On the other hand, this makes it hard to surprise these guys, but this campaign has been a breath of fresh air!


Shaoban wrote:

Nice Thread! Happens that I'm also preparing this campaign for a group of players.

So I'm very curious as how things will develop in the Horn...

I'm several sessions behind the actual game in my posts. As of last night, the crew just reached the mid-way point of the ritual, so things are amping up quickly. Stay tuned! I hope to have a new update posed this week.


11 Lamashan, 4716 - 14 Lamashan, 4716 - The Horn

The following morning, the Nessian Knot made their way up a wide set of stairs that climbed one-hundred feet up the face of the Horn of Abaddon before reaching a small landing. There was no door there, simply a corridor leading into darkness. Arrow slits lined the walls on both sides, and a dozen yards down a stone half-wall bisected half of the passage. It was obvious from the many small nicks and traces of long dried blood everywhere in the stonework that the corridor had seen many battles.

The corridor turned abruptly to the right just past the half-wall. Another hallway intersected it on the left a little further on, while a wooden door stood closed on the right at about the same distance. The companions paused at the door while Kat examined it closely for traps. Once she'd pronounced it safe, Roger pushed it open. The room beyond was empty, but a few broken weapon racks scattered about indicated it may have once been an armory. Another door stood in the adjacent wall, and when Roger opened it, he found a second mostly empty room. A long stone bench was built into one wall, and there were bits of broken barrel wood scattered about. Six arrow slits in the far wall peered out at the entry hall the group had just come down. A guard post then. With no where else to go, they backtracked to the main hallway and continued on.

______________________________________________________

The next area the Knot investigated looked to have once been some sort of laboratory. Broken glassware and alchemical equipment littered the floor, and lying upon a stone slab in the center of the room was a large, clockwork humanoid figure. Dorian and Kelvin moved quickly over to it while the others spread out to investigate the wreckage.
"Unless I'm mistaken," Kelvin said, "and I rarely am, this is an alchemical golem...or rather what's left of one."
"Looks pretty wrecked," Dorian agreed. "Too bad. Could have been useful if it was still functional."
"Maybe this will help," Kat offered, coming up behind her brothers with a rolled parchment in her hand. "Found this under some of that rubble."
Kelvin took it from her and unrolled it.
"It's schematics," he said after a moment, impressed, "for how to build an alchemical golem. With these I might be able to repair this. It's going to take some time, not to mention gold, but it could be done."
"What do ya make of this?" Lemmy asked.
The dwarf had wandered over and he held a small glass flask which looked to contain a viscous gray substance.
Kelvin glanced at it, and then furrowed his brow.
"Definitely magical," he said, then, "Ah! Stone salve! Quite valuable. It can unpetrify that which has been turned to stone. Keep it handy."

______________________________________________________________

The next few rooms were largely unremarkable, consisting of a pair of abandoned guard rooms and what once may have been a smithy, which Lemmy thought could be restored to working order. The bellows, forge fire and anvil where all in fine shape, but the coal storage bin had gotten water in it at some point, creating a foul soupy mess. Beyond those rooms they came across a ransacked trophy room. The actual trophies were gone, but the walls were still discolored where they had once hung, and their identification plaques remained. There were twelve such inscriptions:
"Laedrissia the Beautiful, who believed she need not honor her promises to us."
"Markhan the Golden, draconic protector of Lossewyn. He slept then and now he sleeps forever."
"Kallister Feign, an illusionist too clever to keep his head."
"Lazarus M. Who mourns for you now?"
"King Croc, 23 feet snout to tail, delicious on a spit."
"Iris of Ghastenhall, dead from a broken heart and a poison dagger."
"The Great Serpent of Korokunga, slain for its venom."
"Lord Jurys Hallifax, called the Just, hid in his castle and hoped we'd forgotten. We hadn't."
"Snorri Five-Axe, died on a sixth."
"The ears of Lord Kelerrian. If only he had sense enough to listen."
"Chief Gorgun Sakkathet, invincible in battle, careless in choosing his cup bearer."
"Ergun Nigma. The Third scion left in the House of Hyrhul, second greatest swordsman in the land, the first to die."

"What's this now?" Dakota asked as she peered at the name plate of Iris of Ghastenhall. Mounted beneath it was a small silver ring which bore the tiny inscription 'IoG' beside an ornate rose. Dak shrugged and slipped it onto her finger.

Nearby, Kelvin snorted to himself. "Ergun Nigma. E. Nigma. Enigma. Clever."
He twirled his fingers and focused on the plate.
"Just as I thought," he said. "There's magic here. Kat, see what you can find."
Katarina examined the plate, then reached out and pulled at it. It popped out into a sort of handle.
"Third scion, second swordsman, and first to die," she smiled. "I like riddles."
She turned the handle three times to the left, twice to the right, then once more to the left. There was a click and a small section of the wall popped open to reveal a safe. Besides a collection of platinum coins and a large ruby, there was an exquisitely made set of manacles. They proved to be the source of the magic Kelvin had detected.
"Manacles of cooperation," he said. "They can be made to convince the wearer to be more accommodating."
"Excellent!" Dakota plucked them out of his hand.

____________________________________________________________

The first level of the Horn was proving to be completely abandoned, though many of the rooms still held interesting tidbits. One chamber contained a large cage made of stout iron bars from floor to ceiling, with an opening there to a chute that disappeared up into darkness. Another room appeared to be the sight of a battle, with a tell-tale spray of old blood in one corner. Dakota was tickled beyond belief when they stumbled upon a wrecked torture chamber. Though most of the equipment lay in a tangled pile of neglected metal and splintered wood, she could picture in her mind how glorious it would be once she'd restored it to its former glory.

After poking through what seemed to have been a pair of holding cells, one of which held a moldering silk tapestry with an image of a great white horse skull and the inscription 'All must ride with the Horsemen,' the companions stumbled upon a massive open hall with high, vaulted ceilings. At one end was a single open archway that seemed to feed into a lower courtyard, while at the opposite end sat a large stone throne decorated with scenes of daemonic victory over angels. Six huge columns supported the place, and upon every surface were carved baroque scenes of daemons and their humanoid allies marching together to conquer in the name of the daemon prince Vetra-Kali. Dorian moved cautiously to the throne, which to his arcane senses radiated a moderately strong aura of conjuration. As he drew closer, he saw a small inscription at its base written in the Abyssal language of daemons, which he could read, but which made no sense. It was just a nonsense word: 'Yah.'

"Hey!" Kat suddenly called out, drawing his attention away. "All of you come look at this! I found something!"
She stood near one of the large columns, which looked unremarkable to the others as they gathered around. Once everyone was present, Kat raised the pommel of her dagger and rapped on the column.
"So?" Kelvin asked. "What are we supposed to be seeing?"
Kat rolled her eyes, then walked to another column and rapped against it. The sound was different. More dull. She came back to the first one and rapped. The tone seemed to almost...echo.
"It's hollow," Roger was the first to put the puzzle together.
"Exactly!" Kat exclaimed, "though I can't find any door or any way to open it."
Roger raised his sword in both hands and slammed it into the side of the pillar. The stone cracked and splintered, leaving a sizable hole in the surface.
"It's open now," the half-orc said flatly.
Kat peered inside, looking up and down.
"Stairs," she said.

_____________________________________________________________

For the time being, the companions let the stairs be in favor of completing the canvassing of the first level. They discovered more empty and neglected rooms, which seemed to have once functioned as anything from servant and acolyte quarters to more barracks and guardrooms. In one of the chambers, Lemmy came across a musty journal during his rummaging. It was thick and wordy, and having neither the time nor the inclination to peruse it, he tucked it away in his rucksack. He was much more interested in a pair of large rooms they stumbled across which bore a sign outside declaring them "The Death's Head Tavern."
"Well," he declared, "if we're gonna be spendin' the next few months here, I know where you can find me!"
The only other things of note that they discovered were a large fountain that seemed to produce fresh water, and, in a ransacked storeroom, the perfectly preserved body of a minotaur that had been pinned to the floor by a large spear through its chest. It bore upon one arm a tattoo of a white horse skull with three burning green eyes. Kelvin detected a fain aura of transmutation magic in the room, which he determined was a spell of preservation, meant to keep the stores from going bad. The minotaur had apparently had the luck (or lack thereof) to have been slain in a place that would maintain its body for all eternity.

_____________________________________________________________

With the first level thoroughly catalogued, the Knot returned to the hidden stairwell they had found in the throne room. From below, it must originate somewhere in the boggard caves, somewhere they must have missed during their tour. Up, it seemed, should take them to the next level of the Horn. They began to climb...and climb. The spiral seemed to ascend much further than it should have just to reach the next floor. When the companions finally reached the top, they found themselves in a bare room. There were a pair of badly deteriorated skeletons inside broken, worthless suits of what was once finely-crafted plate armor which was covered in runes similar to those that adorned the Horn itself. A single door led from the chamber.

Roger turned the handle and pushed the door open. It gave onto a rounded room with a high domed ceiling. The walls, ceiling and floor were adorned with grisly bas relief depictions of some nightmarish, hellish realm. Another spiral stair case without a railing rose at the far side of the chamber, but a curved half-wall blocked direct access to it. Standing before the wall was a pair of hulking creatures. They had brown, shaggy fur and stood on slate grey hooves, towering over ten-feet tall. Their heads resembled those of maniacal horned apes. Each of them wore an amulet on a golden chain.
"Look out!" Lemmy shouted, pushing Roger aside.
The impetuous dwarf thrust out one hand and sent a blast of rocky debris at the nearest creature. It struck the brute full in the chest, but he merely looked down at himself and frowned. He then raised his baleful gaze back to Lemmy.
"I'm sorry, sir," he spoke in a voice deep and gravelly, though curiously polite, "but I'm afraid I need to disembowel you now."
He took one step forward and opened his mouth, stretching his jaws obscenely. He drew in a great breath, and when he exhaled, it came out as a cone of pure electricity. The blast washed over the members of the Knot. Katarina managed to leap aside at the last minute, but Kelvin and Dorian fell to the ground writhing and smoking before going horribly still. Dakota was all but out on her feet, staggering beneath her scorched and blistered flesh.

Instead of retaliating, Roger sheathed his sword.
"Please, forgive the rudeness of my companion," he said, indicating Lemmy. "We are here to free Vetra-Kali, and we were not expecting resistance."
The daemonic creatures paused in their advance, heads cocked.
"Continue," the first one said cautiously.
Roger bowed slightly.
"We seek the Tears of Achlys," he said, "and to obtain this, we know that we must return Vetra-Kali to this plane of existence. We have learned of the ritual necessary to break the seal that binds him."
"If what you say is true," the creature replied, "then you must do so immediately. I am Hexor, and this is my brother, Vexor. We are charged with barring access to the Spiral and the Sanctum above from any save those who serve the interest of our master Vetra-Kali. We failed in this duty once before. We will never do so again."
Roger bowed again.
"Will you allow me to tend to my wounded companions?" he asked. "So that we can convince you of the truth of my words."
Hexor nodded slowly.
"Proceed, but have a care. One false move and we shall be forced to broil you where you stand."
Roger nodded his understanding, and then he and Tardaesha set about reviving Kelvin and Dorian, and healing the worst of the injuries of the others.
"Can you tell us of any other guardians that we might encounter?" Roger asked as he worked. "We would prefer not to repeat this mistake."
"To our knowledge no other guardians exist," Hexor shrugged. "The boggards in the caves below are mere squatters, and are of no consequence. There is also the wraith. He manifested some years back, but we do not trouble him and he does not trouble us."
"I see," Roger said. "We have already bent the boggards to our will, but we will try and avoid this wraith that you spoke of. We thank you for your mercy, and vow to do as we have promised."
"Your vow is all well and good, but I'm afraid we require more...tangible assurances," Hexor grinned evilly.
Roger frowned.
"What is it that you require?" he asked
"One of your number," Hexor said. "We will keep one of you here with us, unharmed, until the ritual is complete. If you should fail in your vow, then we have no option but to rip this individual limb from limb."
"I have another proposition," Kelvin said, hale and hearty once more. "What if we leave this in your care?"
He drew out the large emerald they had found in the catacombs. Hexor's and Vexor's eyes grew wide.
"The Eye of Vigilance!" Vexor exclaimed.
"Give it to us!" Hexor snapped.
"With pleasure," Kelvin bowed. "Do we have a deal?"
The daemons looked at each other in silence for a moment, then nodded.
"We have an accord," Hexor said, "but do not try and deceive us. We shall hunt you to the ends of reality if you are lying."

_____________________________________________________________

When the companions of the 9th Knot left the Horn, they found Jurak waiting expectantly for them. They told him of their encounter with the daemon twins, but of course left out the part about the accord they had made with the fiends.
"This is very troubling," the treant rumbled. "Perhaps it is time for me to call upon my friend, Calliaste."
"Who is she?" Kelvin asked, a feeling of dread coming over him.
"She is an angelic being who came to this forest many years ago," Jurak replied. "She found its beauty so entrancing that she decided to remain and become one of its protectors."
Kelvin tried to hide the mixture of fear and disgust from his face.
"I don't think that will be necessary," he said with a feigned smile. "We have a plan. If we cannot pull it off, then we can send for your ally."

As they set about making camp for the night, Kelvin pulled Tardaesha aside, out of earshot of the Jurak.
"It's time for this self-righteous piece of walking lumbar to go," he said fiercely.

________________________________________________________________

The following morning, the companions rose early and began their preparations to resume their exploration of the Horn. Among those preparations, however, were several surreptitiously cast spells of defense as well as the secretive readying of weapons. When Jurak came to wish them well, smiling and whistling, Dakota raised her bow and put an arrow through one of his eyes. As he cried out in pain and shock, Roger rushed at him and hacked into his bark-like hide, calling upon the unholy power of Asmodeus as he did so. Lemmy sent a rocky blast into the treant, nearly toppling him, and then Kelvin conjured a sphere of fire at his root-like feet while Dorian engulfed him in a ball of flames. When Jurak the Elder fell screaming and burning to the ground, Dakota fired two more arrows into him. Soon, the only sound to be heard was the crackle and pop of roasting wood. A short time later, the boggards came to claim the corpse. There would be quite the feast and bonfire that night.
"Bane-wogs impressed with masters," Zikomo Hears-The-Father proclaimed once he saw Jurak's corpse. "I send word to other tribes of Salt Brack. When they hear that soon Father will return, they send more warriors to our cause."

____________________________________________________________

The previous night, Lemmy had found the time to go through the journal he'd discovered in one of the ransacked rooms of the Horn. It turned out that it had belonged to an acolyte by the name of Brother Zander Trask. Most of it was rather dull and poorly written. Trask did not seem to have been a great thinker, and the majority of the diary was a repetitive and boring record of the day to day drudgery of being an acolyte of the lower temple. There were a few interesting tidbits hidden among the tedium, however. Trask believed there to be something unusual about one of the pillars in the lower temple. He suspected it was hollow and might have a secret door.
Of course, Lemmy and his companions had already discovered this fact, though there was no secret door. Trask had also heard a rumor that two powerful daemons named Hexor and Vexor guarded the upper levels. He didn't know precisely where they were stationed, but he desperately wanted to get a look at them some day.
Lemmy smiled ruefully at this. Would have been nice to have known that little tidbit earlier.
Lastly, Trask had seen a priest who, when he thought no one else was present, had sat upon the throne and mysteriously vanished. He didn't know where the priest went, but thought it very interesting.
Lemmy filed this bit of information away for future reference. It might prove useful.

_____________________________________________________________

After Jurak had been dealt with, the companions returned to the Horn and ascended the steep trail to the second opening in its craggy face. It lay full two-hundred feet above the jungle floor, and the small stairway leading up to it was covered in places with thick, ropy vines, making it an even more difficult ascent. Once they'd reached the aperture, the Knot was confronted with a long entry way that was probably once a death trap. Six arrow slits lined each wall, and a half-wall stood at the corridor's end, which would have provided excellent cover for more archers. A short distance down the hall, a wide pit gaped open, spanned by a rickety wooden plank. It might once been concealed, but whatever mechanism that had kept it so was obviously no longer functioning.

Carefully, they made their way across the pit and down the hallway. Rounding the corner at the far end, beyond the half-wall, they came to a door on one side. Beyond it was an empty chamber that looked to have been a barracks. There was nothing of interest there, but while Kat gave it a good once over, she found a small scrap of half-legible paper protruding from beneath an overturned bench. The writing on it was in the Abyssal tongue, but Kelvin could decipher it readily enough.
"Evacuate now," he read, "get to the throne...upper levels lost...stairs is a deathtrap...only way out...Yah."
"The same word written on the throne we found downstairs," Dorian said.
"Indeed," Kelvin nodded. "The plot thickens."

More empty and destroyed rooms followed, though one held a cage much like the one they'd found on the first level. This one, however, was locked with a well-made lock. When Lemmy thought about it, he realized that the open pit they had passed lay directly above the cage room on the first level. Likely the current room lay beneath a similar pit on the third level above. These room were probably designed to snare unwary invaders, dropping them through the pits and into the cages for capture. Clever. With any luck, they could be put into service again.

The companions came across one small room that was markedly different from any of the others they'd seen. It held only a plain wooden table where many candles had burned down to nubs, but someone had drawn the image of a sun on the wall above it. An inscription had been carved below that: "Iomedae lucet omnibus. Iomedae omina regit."
"Iomedae shines on everyone," Dorian translated bitterly. "Iomedae rules everything. It is one of the mottos of the Knights of Alerion."
"Is this some sort of holy shrine then?" Tardaesha asked.
"Yes," Dorian nodded, "and it is radiating a faint aura of evocation. I feel that it's somehow...impeding my own magic."
"Mine as well," Kelvin confirmed. "We need to destroy this!"
"That won't do it," Dorian explained. "We need to deface it, but we also need to offer a living sacrifice to our Lord. An animal should do."
"Or a boggard," Dakota put it.
"I suppose," Dorian shrugged. "Not to worry. I will deal with it."

Further on, they came another large temple. It was smaller than the one below, but far grander. Six stately pillars rose to the high vaulted ceiling, and images of winged carrion birds circled high above, set into the stonework. Stunningly beautiful, intricate murals covered every inch of the walls and floors. At first glance, they appeared quite lovely, showing vast armies of supplicants, each exquisitely rendered in bas relief, walking arms outspread towards some unseen goal. As these images progressed towards a throne at the far end of the temple, however, the figures became more and more emaciated, worn and diseased. Around the throne itself could be seen cackling daemons herding them like sheep. Nearer the far wall, they were no longer supplicants, but instead shambling undead marching in great legions. Their final destination was the throne, which had been carved in the likeness of a great skull. Above it, in the Abyssal tongue, were carved the words: "Lead the flock into the arms of blessed death."
On a hunch, Dorian approached the throne and then bent down to examine its base.
"Just as I thought," he nodded, standing up again. "There's another word carved here...rah."
"I've got an idea," Lemmy snapped his fingers. "Roger...go sit in that fancy chair."
Roger looked at him dubiously.
"Ah, c'mon!" Lemmy held out his hands. "This is me yer talkin' to. Ain't we been through enough fer you to trust me by now?"
Roger still looked skeptical, but he walked to the throne and took a seat.
"Now," Lemmy instructed, " I want you to say the word 'yah.' If somethin' happens, remember this here word, 'rah.'
Roger pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes for a moment, but then he spoke.
"Yah," he said, and then promptly vanished.
"Where did he go!?" Dakota squealed, seizing Lemmy by the throat. "What did you do to him?!"
"He...," Lemmy gasped, his face turning purple, "....he'll....be back...just wait!"
Dakota relaxed her grip slightly, but did not release it as she turned and stared at the empty throne. A moment later, Roger reappeared, looking none the worse for wear.
"What happened?" Dorian asked enthusiastically.
"I found myself back in the temple downstairs," Roger replied, amazement in his voice. "When I said 'rah,' I was back here again."
"Teleporters," Dorian nodded. "An instantaneous way for the priests to travel between levels. Ingenious! With any luck, that means we are likely to find a third one upstairs!"

_____________________________________________________________

Before they left the temple, Dakota walked over to examine one of the floor-to-ceiling pillars. She tapped on it in several places and put her ear up to a number of times.
"I think it's hollow," she proclaimed at length, "and I think its right above the other one down below. I'll bet those stairs run right through here."

They left the temple and continued with their exploration. A bit farther down the corridor they'd been following, they found a small, otherwise empty room that contained one very curious oddity. Standing in the center of the chamber was an extremely detailed statue of a figure dressed in clerical robes, but its head was missing. Curious, Kelvin held out his hands and focused.
"It's as I thought," he said after a moment. "There is transmutation magic here, and also a powerful evocation dweomer coming from that belt pouch around its waist. I think this poor unfortunate was once flesh and blood."
"Too bad its head's not attached," Dakota said. "If this was one of the priests of Vetra-Kali, we could have restored them to life and then sacrificed them for the first part of the ritual."
"Clever girl," Tardaesha patted her sister affectionately on the bottom. "Always thinking, this one."

Finding no sign of the missing head, the companions pressed on. The corridor they'd been following turned into a long, L-shaped passage. Every ten feet a mural was carved upon its walls in larger-than-life detail. Some of them had been defaced, but together, they seemed to detail the history of the Sons of the Pale Horseman.
"This could prove useful later," Dorian said, eyeing the carvings appreciatively. "It will take some time to catalogue all of this, but it seems like we're going to have plenty of that."

The painted hall was ultimately a dead-end, and so the companions back-tracked until they came to another courtyard. Like the one on the first level, this one held a large fountain, elaborately carved into the semblance of three hydrodaemons vomiting forth the water into the basin below. The water was fresh and clean. Several empty rooms surrounded the courtyard, but one in particular was filled with looked like smashed statuary. Lemmy walked among the debris, his cunning eye for stonework on the lookout for something in particular. Finally, he leaned over and fished around in the detritus, then stood up and lifted an intricately carved head above his own.

Quickly, the group made their way back to the headless statue. Dorian found that the head fit perfectly and, using a spell of stone-shaping, he flawlessly reattached it. Then Kelvin applied a generous coating of the stone salve they'd found in the alchemical laboratory and before their eyes, the statue began to transform. As the stone facade faded, Katarina stepped forward and deftly cut the pouch from the man's belt before his transformation was complete. After another moment, the young acolyte stood blinking and confused.
"Drink this," Roger growled, thrusting an open flask towards the fellow.
"Wh...what?" he stammered. "Who...who are you?"
"Friends," Kelvin smiled. "Here to restore your master, Vetra-Kali Eats-The-Eyes, but we need to be sure we can trust you. This is a truth serum. It will do you no harm."
The man's eyes flicked around to each of his captors, and then he grudgingly took the flask, seeing that he had no choice. He squeezed his eyes shut and upended it, fully expecting to be poisoned. When nothing happened, he cracked his eyes open once more.
"Now then," Kelvin said, still smiling. "Let's start by having you tell us your name."
"Halthus," the priest replied.
"And what was the last thing you remember?" Kelvin asked.
Halthus thought for a moment.
"Enemies," he said. "Everywhere. My brothers were dying all around me. I had even heard that Vetra-Kali himself had been slain. Then...nothing..."
Kelvin nodded sympathetically.
"You were apparently petrified," he explained. "That was eighty years ago."
Halthus' mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide.
"The Sons...?" he asked.
"Long dead," said Kelvin. "And Vetra-Kali has been banished from this plane and sealed away. However, we have learned of a ritual to free him and perhaps restore your order so that you may have vengeance on those who wronged you."
Halthus tightened his jaw and nodded grimly.
"Tell me what I must do," he said.
"What was your position here before?" Kelvin asked.
"I was the torturer," Halthus smiled.
"Really??" Dakota asked, caressing the man's shoulder. "You and I have much to talk about. We found your old workshop. It's quite the mess, but I'm sure you and I could have it back in working order in no time."
"I'd like that," Halthus nodded, smiling enthusiastically at her. "Oh! Wait! I have something that might help you! One of the high priests died in front of me. When he fell, I saw a great jewel lying loose. I grabbed it and ran. It's right...,"
He patted at his belt, a puzzled look on his face.
"Is this what you're looking for?" Kat asked, the pouch dangling from her fingers.
"Yes!" Halthus nodded. "That's it!"
"We found another stone just like this one," she said, dropping the large emerald from the pouch into her palm. "We think they are Vetra-Kali's 'eyes.' Do you know what they do?"
Halthus shook his head.
"I was only an acolyte," he said. "I was not privy to such information."
"Then what can you tell us of this place that might be of use?" Kelvin prodded.
"Do you know about the teleporters?" Halthus asked.
"The thrones?" Kelvin said. "We have found two of them and deduced as much."
"Yes," Halthus nodded. "There is a third one above us and they are all connected, though I'm not certain exactly how they function."
"We believe we have figured it out," Kelvin said. "What else?"
"There is a hidden staircase called The Spiral that ascends to the Sanctum of Vetra-Kali, though I don't know how to get to it."
"We've found that as well," Kelvin replied.
"The murals?" Halthus asked hopefully. "Do you know about those?"
"The ones in the long hall just beyond the temple?" Kelvin asked. "We saw them. What about them?"
"They contain rituals for summoning creatures from the lower planes," Halthus exclaimed with excitement. "No daemons though. Summoning daemons was always something special."
"I see," Kelvin nodded. "Well you have been most helpful. It will be a pleasure working with you. However, we can't have you running about by yourself just yet. There is still a matter of proving yourself. We'll have Dakota accompany you back to the your torture room, but we will have some...friends...watching over you until our exploration is complete."


14 Lamashan, 4716 - 15 Lamashan, 4716 - The Ghost In The Machine

"Now THAT is a nice bed!" Tardaesha exclaimed.
"You'd know," Dakota smirked. "You've seen enough of them."
'Aesha swatted her playfully and the two sisters giggled like girls. The bedchamber they stood in looked as if it had possibly belonged to a high-ranking officer. The bed itself was carved of oak and had four posts. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. The beddings were rotten and moldering, but those could be easily replaced.
"Well then I guess I won't be letting you share this one with me when I claim this room as my own," Tardaesha teased Dakota.
"I wouldn't want to now in any case," Dakota sniffed, "not unless Roger joined us."
She smiled wickedly as the anti-paladin's face went beet-red.

Their exploration of the second floor of the Horn continued apace, revealing more empty or ransacked chambers. One such room was choked with ash and rubble, as if a great blaze was once set there. Amid the debris, however, Katarina fished out three stout lengths of chain bound to iron collars to well-made locks. There was also an intact mural on one wall which made it plain that the room had once belonged to the master of beasts. The painting depicted two strange-looking creatures, which the companions immediately identified as Hexor and Vexor, being summoned from the nether planes and bound using plates of iron. Dakota peered closely at the details.
"These amulets look different from the ones we saw them wearing," she said. "These are whole, while the ones we saw looked broken. Unless I miss my guess, the true names of the beasts are inscribed here, though I can't make them out."
"Pity," Dorian said. "If we had those, then the brutes would be at our beckon-call."

In another room, they discovered a human skeleton that had been nailed to one wall by a spear with a broken haft. Written above it was the phrase, "The Master of Acolytes, stealer of children. Let all who would turn to darkness see his fate and return to the light."
"What's wrong with stealin' children?" Lemmy asked. "Taste like chicken."

_____________________________________________________________

Beyond the antechamber where they found the remains of the Master of Acolytes lay the man's private quarters. It was ransacked like everything else on the level had been, but the damage included smashing murals that had looked to illustrate the Master doing his wicked business and going amongst the people of Talingarde to steal children to serve the "Sons." There was even a sizable hole in one wall, through which could see the outside sky. The breach had allowed the aggressive greenery of the Caer Bryr, with its vines and creepers, to intrude within.

It was Katarina who first spotted them. Slithering amid the vegetation were what looked to be a pair of sickly green masses of protoplasm that sprouted thick tangles of mossy roots and gnarled vegetation from their surfaces.
"We are here to free Vetra-Kali," Kat said, advancing forward with her palms spread, mimicking the approach she'd seen Roger take with the daemons. "We mean you no harm."
The oozy masses began seeping out of their verdurous cover, squelching closer to the companions. As they drew nearer, Dakota began to sway on her feet.
"I...," she started to say, "I don't feel so...," and then she swooned and collapsed to the floor, snoring loudly.
"Get out of the way, stupid girl!" Roger snarled, shouldering Kat aside.
The big half-orc raised his sword and brought it down on one of the gelatinous blobs. The blade cleaved it neatly in two...and then both halves began undulating in his direction.
"Hey...," Kat said, stifling a huge yawn, "that was...weird..." and then she too hit the floor, her lips mumbling nonsense from a deep sleep.
Roger cursed and slashed at another one of the oozes as it came in striking distance, only to have it split again. There were now four of the creatures. Suddenly, one reared up like a snake and struck at the anti-paladin. Its sticky mass wrapped around his waist and yanked him forward. Another one reached the snoozing Katarina and wrapped its mass around hers like a blanket. She woke with a scream as some sort of acidic secretion from the horrible thing began burning her flesh. Dorian took a step towards her, but then a sudden wave of somnolence washed over him and he dropped.

Roger struggled to free himself from the ooze's embrace, but only managed to get himself wrapped tighter. He could feel his skin beneath his armor begin to tingle as liquid seeped between the metal plates.
"Hells with it," he growled.
He focused his mind and managed to raise one hand to grip the pentagram that hung around his neck. A nimbus of black fire surged around him, washing over everything in the room. The oozes recoiled from the negative energy, but it also scorched his companions. The pain of it, however, shocked both Dorian and Dakota out of their torpor. Dorian leaped to his feet, a prayer already on his lips. Fire blossomed on the palm of his hand and he hurled it into the mass of oozes where it exploded into a vast ball of roaring flame. The creatures were completely unharmed.

Dakota tried to climb to her feet, but she only made it to her knees before she wavered and dropped heavily to the floor again. A second ooze struck and snared Roger, and then the last joined in the feast on Katarina. Roger channeled the power of Asmodeus again, and this time two of the oozes shriveled and curled to ash, including one of them holding Kat. His blast woke Dakota for the second time and she finally made it to her feet. Seeing the effect of Roger's efforts, Dorian grabbed his own unholy symbol and let its power flow through him. Another ooze turned to dust, and Kat managed to roll free from the one still holding her. Before she could get clear, however, it seized her ankle. Screaming, she tried to get her feet under her, but the creature jerked her roughly back to the floor. Her head struck the stone with a sickening crack and she went still. Roger ran towards her, trying another tactic and drawing a blunt flail from his belt, casting his sword to one side. He struck the ooze and was relieved to see it shiver in pain and draw back from him.

Dakota and Dorian reached Kat at the same time. Dak layed her hands on her sister's chest and let a small amount of healing power flow into her. Kat took a deep breath and then, when Dorian applied his own healing magic, she opened her eyes wide. Gasping, she rolled to her feet, a dagger already in her hand. She saw Roger battling the last ooze and she darted in, slashing with her blade. The ooze split. Roger cursed and moved towards it with his flail, but he was a second too slow. The blob struck at him, snapping his head back. He toppled backwards and collapsed into a snoozing heap.
"Wake up, lover boy!" Dakota snapped, slapping the half-orc sharply.
Roger raised his eyelids heavily, then quickly shook himself fully awake as he remembered their predicament. He channeled his unholy power once more and finally, blessedly, the last of the horrors shriveled and died.

_____________________________________________________________

So drained by the battle with the oozes were the companions of the Ninth Knot, that they were forced to retreat to the lower caves for the remainder of the day and lick their wounds. They did not feel like braving the third level of the Horn just yet. The following morning, however, they were rejuvenated and ready to complete their investigation of the fortress and, with any luck, find the Seal.

No stairs rose to the grand archway that gave onto the third level, but Katarina was able to make the climb from the second level without much difficulty. She lowered a rope back down to the others and they clambered up to join her. The landing platform was baroquely adorned with every surface decorated with countless daemons tormenting and triumphing over mortals foolish enough to oppose them. Prominent among those decorations, to the left of the archway, was a bas relief of Vetra-Kali. Beyond the entranceway was a large hallway with five doors. The baroque decoration continued and everywhere were more bas relief carvings of the doings of daemons. As Katarina waited for the others to join her, she bent down to examine the floor leading out into the the entrance hall. Her sharp gaze saw the seam that was cleverly hidden among the tiling. She turned to the relief of Vetra-Kali and that's when she noticed that his three eyes were even more detailed. She reached out and touched one of them, and it depressed beneath her finger. She quickly touched the other two and heard an audible click from the floor.
"Leave it to me to save these ungrateful siblings of mine once again," she sighed.

As the others filed into the entry hall, Dorian perused the bas reliefs. There was a great deal of Abyssal writing among them which, of course, he was fluent in. The illustrations told the tale of the ascension of the daemon prince Vetra-Kali-Eats-the-Eyes. They revealed that he was a leukodaemon who, through his savagery and remorseless cruelty, had risen through the ranks to be appointed and Archdeacon of Pestilence in service to the Pale Horseman. Dorian sighed to himself.
'Perhaps one day,' he thought.

Arbitrarily, the companions chose the doors on the left side of the hall to explore first. They passed through a bare antechamber and a battle-blasted room beyond that and found a cellblock that looked to still be in good condition, the locks on the six cells still intact. Past this was a gigantic empty room. The only hint of its former uses were a few defaced murals that gave glimpses of wanton excesses, the most disturbing of which indicated that all of the participants were not even human nor humanoid. Finally, they arrived in another large room with no furnishings, but the walls and floor were covered in Abyssal script. The phrase, "Receive the wisdom of Abaddon," was written prominently on one curved wall. There was a circle of such script in the center of the floor that was merely the nonsense world "nen" repeated over and over again. Curious, Dakota stepped to the center of the circle and spoke the word, "Ra." She vanished, and then reappeared seconds later.
"The third teleporter," she declared.

______________________________________________________________

The group made their way back to the entry chamber and chose the central door at the far end. As ornate and baroque as the hall behind them was, it paled before the expansive and vaulted room before them. It was adorned with a riot of lurid colors. Brilliant bas reliefs depicted daemons of every sort engaged in countless acts of wanton evil, callous destruction and inhuman savagery. Rows of pews lined both sides of the area, facing a podium where, doubtless, foul sermons of Abaddon's wisdom and bile had been delivered to those gathered.

At the front of the chamber were four shrines. One was white and decorated with bas reliefs of open pits of the dead and lepers crying in anguish. The second was of red stone decorated with cruel iron weaponry and scenes of slaughter. The third was black stone adorned with images of mortals wasting away from hunger and starvation. Last was a shrine of pale green decorated with a skull with two coins over its eyes and an inscription of jagged Abyssal writing which Dorian translated to read, "Behold a pale horse. Its rider is Death and all shall follow him." In the center of the shrines was a large bas relief image of Vetra-Kali sitting cross-legged and holding a vial of some sort. Below the vial was inscribed a name, "The Tears of Achlys." Vetra-Kali also held three blades and a strange jagged key with an Abyssal inscription, "Hail Vetra-Kali." Upon all the other walls were litanies of the deeds of this monster. It was Vetra-Kali who crossed the great void and came to the prime material plan to establish the Sons of the Pale Horseman. It was he who oversaw the construction of the Horn of Abaddon, and it was because of this that the Horn superficially resembled that abomination from another world.

As the members of the Ninth Knot cautiously approached the shrines, a feeling of deep dread and foreboding began to creep over them. It intensified rapidly, and suddenly Lemmy's face blanched and he turned away from the fane and ran gibbering back to the entry hall. A moment later Kelvin followed, running as fast as his robes would allow. Next went Tardaesha, then Dorian and finally, even Roger, his features a mask of terror. Only Dakota and Katarina managed to reach the front of the temple.
"It's a test," Dakota said hollowly.
She looked around blankly for a moment, then her eyes focused on a wall to her right.
"There," she said.
She walked to the wall, Kat some distance behind her. She put her hands to the wall and pushed. Nothing happened.
"There's a door here," she said. "But I can't find a way to open it."
"There was a hidden pit in the outer hall," Kat said. "I deactivated it by pressing the eyes on the carving of Vetra-Kali."
Dak's eyes brightened.
"I have a thought!" she said and ran to the image of the daemon prince. "Hail Vetra-Kali!" she shouted, then rapidly press all three eyes.
"I don't think that's such a good idea...," Kat started to say.
Before she could complete her sentence, however, an opening in the formerly blank wall abruptly appeared.

Cautiously, hesitantly, Dakota walked forward through the doorway. She found herself in a large chamber that was heaped with wealth. There were solid silver furnishings, plates, silverware, goblets, candelabra, circlets, jewelry and the like, mixed with similar items made of gold. Coins of all denominations overflowed six large chests, while a seventh contained several items that glittered with the tell-tale aura of magic. In the center of the room was a small podium that rose like a claw. Between its talons it clutched a single dark radiant emerald. Standing behind this was a cloaked and hooded figure, at least 8 feet in height. Before him stood three similarly clad individuals, though they were smaller in stature. Dakota squinted her eyes. She swore she could see through the figures to the far wall of the room. Then her mind quickly snapped back to Hexor's words. Hadn't he said something about a wraith?
"Hail Vetra-Kali!" she said quickly. "We have come to the Horn to restore him to his throne!"
The large individual raised his head slightly, and glowing red eyes stared balefully from the shadows of his cowl.
"Are you part of another Knot?" a cold voice asked.
"Yes," Dakota nodded enthusiastically. "The Nessian Knot. Have you heard of us?"
"Not you specifically," the creature intoned, "but I have met another Knot...the fourth."
"Aiden Kael?" Dakota asked. "You know of his fate?"
"Yes," the wraith nodded, and Dakota could swear she almost detected a smile in its voice. "These are what remain of his minions," he indicated the three smaller figures. "As for Kael himself, he escaped me. He did not, however, escape the daemon brothers."
"We've met them," Dakota replied flatly. "Kael was a fool, and met a fool's end. We have no quarrel with you. We are here to restore Vetra-Kali."
"And how will you break the Seal?" the wraith asked.
"We have learned of a ritual," Dakota replied. "We have already found two of his three eyes. Is that the third?" She nodded towards the pedestal.
"It is," the wraith nodded. "If what you say is true, then your life is not forfeit and you may take it. I am called Ezra, the Thrice-Damned. I was the last high priest of the Sons of the Pale Horseman. I was slain by the accursed followers of the Light, but I was not destroyed. My hate and wrath allowed me to be reborn as you see me now. Swear to me a blood oath that you will break the Seal and free Vetra-Kali, and I will not inflict the fate of Kael's Knot upon you."
"I have no problem with this agreement," Dakota said, "but would you allow me to go fetch my companions? My brother is a barrister and contracts are his specialty."
"Go," Ezra said, "but return quickly. My patience grows thin."

Dakota and Katarina found the others cowering in the entry hall and, with some coaxing and encouragement, brought them before Ezra. Dorian listened to the wraith's conditions and found no conflict of interest with Thorn's pact. Thus, each of the companions gave their agreement and swore it in blood.
"Can we count on your assistance if it is needed in breaking the Seal and restoring Vetra-Kali?" Dakota asked.
"I will aid in whatever capacity is available to me," the wraith said.
"Ummm....," Katarina bit her lip, staring at the wealth accumulated around them. "There's still the matter of the third eye and...all this...,"
"Take it," Ezra said. "I have no need of such earthly trappings. They were secreted here merely to keep them from the followers of the Light. Indulge in your petty delights while you still draw breath."
Dakota dove into the trove greedily, her eyes round in delight at all the lovely baubles. Then her gaze fell upon something in particular. She reached down into one of the chests and drew forth a pair of iron plates, each hung from a golden chain. There was a word carved upon each of them in Abyssal: Aticus and Andian. Dakota grinned broadly. The plates were perfect matches for those worn by Hexor and Vexor.


15 Lamashan, 4716 - 1 Neth, 4716 - The Horn Awakens

"Ah, I see you recognize these," Dakota said, smiling broadly.
She flicked the iron amulet around her neck and nodded at the similar one that Tardaesha wore. The eyes of Hexor and Vexor burned balefully as they bored holes into the twins.
"Where did you...?" Hexor began, but Dakota held up one finger and his mouth snapped shut.
"No, no, my pet," she chided, "you do not get to ask questions nor make demands any longer. All I need from you at the moment is that little bauble we left in your possession. You know the one."
Hexor's teeth could be heard grinding against themselves as he drew forth the glittering emerald and handed it to Dakota.
"Good boy," she scratched him behind the ear. "Now, from this moment on, you will harm none of the individuals you see in this room, nor impeded them in any way, is that clear?"
"As you command," the daemons spoke in unison, and bowed low.
"Excellent!" Dak clapped her hands happily. "Now that we have that matter cleared up, shall we?"
She turned to her companions and gestured towards the spiral staircase that led upwards from the daemons' charge.

_________________________________________________________

The spiral climbed over two-hundred feet higher to the very top of the Horn of Abaddon. It terminated in a large, domed chamber that was baroquely decorated and everywhere adorned with jagged daemonic iconography and visions of spreading pestilence and mortal suffering. It was a grand chamber, eighty feet across at its widest, ninety feet long and rising at its apex over fifty feet. Low partition walls sectioned off two smaller preparation chambers, but dominating the room was a statue of Vetra-Kali himself carved from hard green alabaster. He held three knives and three bowls and leered eyeless over the altar before him. He presented a figure of brutal alien malice. The green stone of the altar was stained black in many places, doubtless from the countless victims who met their end upon its block. There was a reservoir at the base of the statue that looked as if was meant to hold liquid of some sort. The statue and altar fairly pulsed with evil. Completely out of place were the heavy silver chains that bound the altar and connected to a large argent seal pressed with the holy symbol of blessed Iomedae.

All of this the companions took in briefly, for their attention was immediately drawn to the domed roof of the chamber, where a mass of living energy circled in perpetual motion. Acting purely on instinct, Tardaesha darted out of the stairwell and towards the altar. No sooner had she begun to move than the electrical mass came flying towards her. She tucked and rolled at the last instant, and it swept by, mere inches above her head. As it rose into the air to circle back for another run, both Kelvin and Dorian simultaneously hurled explosive balls of fire into its midst. Its energy flickered from the twin detonations. Dakota took one knee and aimed her bow carefully towards the cloud. She recognized the creature as an elemental, and she willed the bane of the inquisition into her weapon, rendering it much more deadly against such beings. The bow sang twice as Dak rapid-fired a pair of arrows. Both struck true, and thunder boomed from the elemental like a bellow of pain. It roiled and whirled, spinning towards Dakota. Kelvin cast another spell, and a blinding flash of glittering dust engulfed the creature. It spun aimlessly in the air, lashing out randomly in all directions. One errant surge of electricity struck Dakota by dumb luck. She cried out and tumbled back, but as the elemental turned towards the sound of her voice, Lemmy stepped in front of her and unleashed a kinetic fusillade of rocks and debris. The cloud recoiled from the assault, giving Dakota time to regain her feet. She fired another shot into it, and then Dorian conjured up a final bolt of white-hot fire. The elemental began to dissipate, collapsing rapidly in upon itself.

__________________________________________________________________

"What can you tell us about the eyes?" Dakota asked Hexor and Vexor once the companions had descended from the sanctum.
"They must be steeped in the blood of a sentient creature," Hexor replied.
"Then they must be placed in the statue," Vexor continued. "Only then will their true power be revealed."
"I suppose we can take care of that with the first sacrifice," Dorian said.
"Which reminds me," Dakota mused, "I need to pay a visit to Halthus."
"And I need to take care of that abomination of a shrine to Iomedae that we found below," Dorian said in disgust.

_______________________________________________________________

While Dorian tended to the desecration of the Iomedaen shrine, Dakota and Tardaesha made their way back down to the torture chamber, where they found Halthus hard at work supervising his two boggard guards as they went about clearing the detritus from the room.
"We need to talk," Dakota said without preamble. "Come, sit with us for a moment."
Hesitantly, the priest joined the sisters as they sat on a pile of debris.
"What is it?" he asked. "Did you find the sanctum?"
"We did indeed," Dakota smiled, "and we have recovered all three of Vetra-Kali's eyes. We are set to begin the ritual soon."
"Excellent news!" Halthus grinned. "How can I help?"
"Funny you should ask," Tardaesha smirked.
"What my sister means to say," Dakota interrupted, "is, how much are you willing to sacrifice to see your lord returned?"
"Whatever it takes," Halthus replied without blinking.
"I was hoping you would say that," Dak smiled. "You see, the ritual will ultimately require three living sacrifices. The first must be performed at the beginning, and it must be, to quote the Dirges of Apollyon, 'one of our own...so that Vetra-Kali will know we are repentant.'"
Halthus remained silent for several moments.
"I see," he nodded at length. "As the last living member of the Brotherhood I suppose that leaves very little choice."
"You understand our dilemma," Dakota said.
"I do indeed," Halthus replied. "Well, if it means restoring Vetra-Kali, then I am willing to pay that price. I only ask that I be rendered unconscious if that is possible."
"That could be arranged," Tardaesha said.
"You are a brave man," Dakota purred, caressing the priest's cheek. "You deserve to be rewarded for your devotion. My sister and I will make sure that your final remaining days will carry you into the great beyond on waves of ecstasy..."

________________________________________________________

The next several days were spent in preparation for the ritual and the companions getting to know their new home a little better. Via Knick-Knack, Tardaesha sent word to the White Ravens and Baron Vandermir about their findings and plans. 'Aesha also availed herself of her minion's ability to commune with the higher powers, and asked the one question that had been burning her mind.
"When the ritual begins, will it be obvious to outside observers?"
The answer was a resounding, 'Yes!'

Kelvin and Dorian spent their time carefully studying the hall of murals they'd discovered on the second level of the Horn. Over pain-staking hours of transcribing the hidden messages they found there, they deduced that there were in fact three rituals described: Call Forth the Hounds, Call Forth the Steed, and Cauldron of the Earth. Each one could be performed but once per year, yet it was the second one that caught Roger's attention when the two brothers presented their findings. Early the next morning he set out alone for Farholde, and returned that evening astride an expensive-looking warhorse. As the others looked on curiously, he rode the beast up the stairs on the outside of the mountain, through the second-floor entry and into the temple. There, he casually dismounted, removed his gauntlets, stroked the horses's mane, then drew his sword and in one swift strike, decapitated the animal. It's body fell heavily to the floor, and its blood pooled around it. Roger opened a silken bag he had tied at his belt and poured its contents of incense, powdered gemstones and prayer strips over the horse's corpse. This concoction he then set aflame with a nearby brazier. As the fire leapt high and consumed the steed, the flames turned blood-red, and the stink of sulfur filled the air. Suddenly, there was a whoosh of foul, fetid smoke and a deep, savage neighing from the bonfire. A large stallion, black as midnight, erupted from the conflagration. Fire spurted from its nostrils and hair, and its hooves sprayed sparks as they struck the flagstones. The great nightmare towered over Roger, but then knelt down on its front legs before him and bowed its head to the floor.
"I am Carnitheria Rex," it spoke in a grating basso voice. "What is thy bidding, my Master?"

_____________________________________________________________

Finally, the time had come to begin the ritual. The companions gathered in the sanctum, along with Halthus, who had been stripped naked, Hexor, Vexor and Zikomo Hears-the-Father. At Dorian's suggestion, the boggard oracle would be the one to speak the prayers each morning, evening and midnight over the coming months, thereby freeing up the members of the Knot. Zikomo seemed pleased at this responsibility, hopping from side to side in excitement. Dorian strode up to the altar and poured a flask of water into the basin at its base. Instantly, the liquid turned black and foul, with tendrils of yellow smoke drifting off of it. Then Halthus was brought to the altar, a vapid smile of joy on his inebriated face. Tardaesha and Dakota had plied him with some of Lemmy's home brew until he was almost senseless. As he reached the altar, Roger stepped up behind him and struck him a skull-cracking blow to the base of his neck with the pommel of his sword. The twins caught him before he fell and laid him tenderly upon the stone altar. At that point Zikomo began The Supplication to Darkness. As he chanted fervently, Dorian stepped forward and received a wicked dagger from Katarina. This he plunged into Halthus' chest and opened the man from breast to naval. As the priest's life's blood spilled, Dorian reached into his chest cavity and cut out his still-beating heart. This he placed in one of the bowls held by the statue of Vetra-Kali. Lastly, Dorian scooped a ladle full of the unholy water from the basin and doused the silver seal. The liquid boiled and sizzled across the face of the divine artifact. He then pulled the three eyes of Vetra-Kali from his belt pouch, smeared them with Halthus' blood, and placed them in their respective sockets. A moment later, the Horn of Abaddon began to burn.

____________________________________________________

Outside the Horn, ghostly green flames wreathed the entire mountain and flared upward into the sky like a beacon. The pyrotechnics could be seen from as far away as Farholde. Every bit of greenery and undergrowth blending the stone spire into the Caer Bryr burned away in a single flash of dire radiance. Abyssal runes carved into the stonework glowed furiously, and wraith spawn danced in the air around the peak and cackled in glee. The earth shook and the tremors travelled for miles. Any hope the companions had of keeping the Horn a secret disappeared in one blaze of balefire.

Back inside the sanctum, an alien voice of pure malice spoke in Abyssal from everywhere and nowhere at once: "Kazara Vo!"
"I hear," Dorian translated breathlessly.
The priest also understood several things in that moment. First, the magic that now engulfed the exterior of the Horn would fade visibly, but its power would persist, and it would prevent anyone or anything from teleporting into or out of the mountain, and would block any magical messages from being transmitted as well. Furthermore, goodly creatures who attempted to pass through the nimbus to enter the Horn's upper level balcony would find the magical barrier an unholy blight that barred their intrusion. Dorian also found that he now knew the purpose of the eyes of Vetra-Kali. The Eye of Vigilance allowed anyone who touched it to scry upon the entirety of the Horn. The Eye of Hatred would glow whenever a divine spell of Iomedae had been cast within the Horn, and the Withering Eye caused the entirety of the spire to fall under the effects of a desecration. In short, beginning the ritual had created a sophisticated security system for the Horn of Abaddon, and if the Ninth Knot was going to hold this place for the next 222 days and see the ritual through to completion, they were going to need all the help they could get.

______________________________________________________________

For his part, Dorian also managed to procure a minion of sorts, though this one he built himself. Using the blue prints they had found in the alchemy lab, he set about repairing the disabled golem. He cast a spell of making-whole on the cracked lens of its eye, and then, since it required a brain from an individual who had died within the previous twenty-four hours, he used Halthus'. Waste not, want not, after all. The mithral heart cog was also missing, likely stolen by some Iomedaen soldier during the assault. Fortunately, the exact shape of the cog was described in the schematics. Via Knick-Knack, Tardaesha sent a message to the White Ravens asking that they purchase enough mithral to forge the cog. In the mean time, Lemmy had managed to get the smithy back in working order, and when the courier from Farholded arrived, the dwarf was able to craft a reasonable replacement for the cog.

The golem required a large glass reservoir where its four primal reagents could mingle and power the construct. Its own reservoir had been smashed at some point, but Dorian found a spare one amongst the detritus of the alchemist's gear. Last came the reagents themselves. The reagent of fire was easy enough. It could be concocted from ten doses of alchemist's fire, which was simple to purchase. Likewise the reagent of ice could be brewed from alchemist's ice. For the reagent of acid, Dorian had to look no further than the pool of acidic fluid in the lower caverns. The reagent of electricity was the trickiest, but it just so happened that the blood of the lightning elemental which had been guarding the upper sanctum was still potent.

His repairs complete, Dorian gave the heart cog a twist and stood back. The cog began to whir and click, and soon the pump started to distribute the four alchemical fluids throughout the automaton like blood. Electrical fluid bathed the brain floating in its case and sparks began to dance around it. The golem flickered to life. It sat up, then stood and turned towards Dorian, towering above the priest.
"Master," it intoned mechanically, "command thy servant, Artephius."
Dorian smiled. This was going to do nicely.

__________________________________________________________________

Over the next few days, the companions set about shoring up the defenses of their new temporary abode. They were going to have to spend the better part of the next eight months in the Horn until they ritual was complete. They had no illusions that the light show from the mountains awakening had gone unnoticed, and unwanted guests were sure to be arriving soon.

Lemmy determined that one of the flooded caves in the lower warrens would do nicely as a lair for some sort of aquatic predator. Zikomo informed him that his boggard hunters could probably capture one or two of the large crocodiles that dwelled in the swamps and confine them in the cave. They would pose a nasty surprise for any intruders. Roger gathered several skulls from the bone pit they'd found in the catacombs and mounted them on wooden poles at the various entry points into the Horn. Using dark magic, he turned the skulls into mindless sentries that would shout out an alarm if trespassers were detected. Kelvin followed this up with several silent alarm spells placed at key locations that would alert him as well. Finally, Dorian inscribed warding glyphs at the entry points to ward against those actually foolish enough to brave the Horn. He also used a spell of stone shaping to repair the hole on the second level were the oozes had penetrated.

________________________________________________________

Tardaesha spent part of that time communing through Knick-Knack. She wanted to know when they might expect their first assault on the Horn. The answer: that week.
The following day, a messenger arrived with a letter from the White Ravens.
"A group of adventurers is headed your way," it read. "Local heroes. Poor equipment. Little experience. Plan to arrive within the next three days. The dwarf has been to the Horn before and said something about entering the caves. He is called Yorgun the Smith. Carries a large hammer. Their leader is Hallack Amon, human, retired watch sergeant. He has military experience. Sister Marta Dian is a priestess of Iomedae. She is reported to have successfully destroyed a dozen zombies. James O'Toole is a brawler, famed for taking on all comers at local faire. Last is Bianca DeVallya, a half-elven local bard and singer. She knows a little magic. Very fond of Hallack. Prepare them a proper welcome, will you? - Z"


Really enjoying reading this. My group is playing this at the moment, just finished the ritual and currently biding our time in Ghastenhall.
Looking forward to seeing how you guys deal with Vetra-Kali. :)


Minderp wrote:

Really enjoying reading this. My group is playing this at the moment, just finished the ritual and currently biding our time in Ghastenhall.

Looking forward to seeing how you guys deal with Vetra-Kali. :)

In real time in our campaign, which I'm about 4 updates behind, the group has just entered the final 5 days of the ritual, so things are getting really good!


1 Neth, 4716 - 14 Neth, 4716 - They Never Should Have Come Here

Hallack Amon was born in Farholde, and had dreamed of escaping that backwater since he could stand. He worked for more than a decade as a soldier of the watch tower, rising to the rank of sergeant. Finally he scraped together enough coin to leave town forever and at last see the great cities of the south. Then fate intervened. Amon's father died and Hallack inherited the family debt. He could have simply fled, but he was too honorable. The entirety of his savings paid the debt, but only barely.

When the Horn blew, Hallack was sitting in a local tavern contemplating what to do next. There was a war on, so he could certainly reenlist, but that would mean years more of his life gone, and who knew if he would even survive? After all, few who had faced the Fire-Axe had lived to tell the tale. From the window of the tavern he saw the great spire of light and knew almost instinctively that destiny was calling him. He gathered a small group of local heroes and immediately planned a strike on the revealed Horn of Abaddon to find the legendary lost treasure. Surely this would be a great heroic endeavor.

_______________________________________________________

One of the many things Hallack Amon and his associates were ignorant of was the fact that they were being watched from the moment they left Farholde. When the warning from the White Ravens came, Tardaesha sent Knick-Knack flying back to town to monitor the most direct route to the Horn. Once he'd spotted the adventurers, the little daemon floated along invisibly above them, making sure they stayed on course. When he was certain of their progress, he zipped ahead of them and returned to the Horn to inform his mistress.

Tardaesha was not in favor of waiting for the do-gooders to come to them when they could easily be dealt with via ambush. Her companions agreed, but Dakota and Lemmy elected to stay behind just in case something should go wrong. Dorian did, however, bring Artephius along with him, and Roger rode mounted upon Carnitheria Rex. As the Knot moved off into the Caer Bryr, Katarina ranged out ahead, still in sight of her friends, but otherwise cleverly hidden in the foliage and undergrowth. It wasn't long until she spotted the adventurers, hacking their way through the shrubbery, oblivious to what they were walking into. Kat turned and gave a silent signal to her friends and family, then pointed. Kelvin nodded and then conjured a fireball bead. He let fly with it, estimating roughly the position that Kat had indicated. He was rewarded by the sounds of screaming coming from the direction of the explosion, and by Kat's enthusiastic thumbs-up.

That was Roger's signal as well. As the fireball plumed into the air, he spurred Rex forward into a full gallop. The nightmare leapt easily over fallen logs and his flaming hooves burned away any tangling vines in his path. He charged into the clearing where the adventurers were still slapping at their smoldering clothing and quaffing healing elixirs as fast as they could open them.
"That's our loot you're drinking," Roger growled.
The would-be heroes looked up, startled, and saw the burly half-orc, clad head-to-toe in plate armor, astride his pitch-black steed, smoke pouring from its nostrils and fire wreathing its hooves. To his credit, Hallack Amon did not hesitate for long. He drew his sword and charged headlong towards Roger, the dwarf Yorgun on his heels, wielding a massive, two-handed hammer. As they closed in, Rex's nostrils flared, and he exhaled a cloud of yellowish-green, noxious smoke into their path. Hallack and Yorgun began coughing violently, momentarily stopped in their tracks as their eyes welled up with stinging tears. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught Roger's eye from his left. He hauled on the reins trying to warn Rex, but he was a fraction of a second too slow. James O'Toole loomed up beside the nightmare, and he cocked back one meaty fist and slugged the horse squarely in the jaw.

Katarina zeroed in on the Iomedaen nun, Sister Marta, who was still trying to put her robes out. Kat darted towards her and struck her across the temple with the pommel of her dagger. She knew they had to take the nun alive. They needed her for the ritual. Marta backed away, momentarily stunned by the attack. Bianca DeVallya seized the sleeve of her habit from behind.
"We have to get clear!" she hissed at her companion.
Marta nodded and turned to run with her friend. Kat grinned evilly and set off after them.

Carnitheria Rex wheeled on James and sank his pointed teeth into the big man's shoulder. The brawler shrieked in pain and then promptly began choking as the nightmare breathed smoke directly into his face. Roger dismounted in one fluid motion, and drew his sword as he landed. As James O'Toole staggered backwards, swiping at his streaming eyes, the anti-paladin opened a large gash across his belly. Suddenly, another shape loomed up behind James.
"This vessel has been commanded to murder you," Artephius whispered in a voice eerily similar to that of Halthus.
The golem then slammed one fist into Jame's back, spewing a gout of greenish goo from its fist when it connected, which instantly wrapped around the brawler's arms and legs, entangling him in its mesh.

On Rex's opposite flank, Hallack and Yorgun had recovered sufficiently from their coughing spells to risk moving in on the great beast. Hallack shouted, and when Rex turned towards him, the soldier slashed the nightmare across its neck, sending great geysers of black blood spraying in all directions.
"Hah! Ye showed him, boy!" Yorgun hooted. "Now it's my tur.....aaarrrggghh!"
Hallack spun about at his friend's cry of anguish and saw the smiling face of Tardaesha standing behind the dwarf, one hand clamped on his shoulder and dark energy pulsing through his body.

Bianca paused in her flight and turned back towards the battle. Her friends were not faring well. This wasn't at all how this was supposed to have gone. She quickly unslung her lute from her back and began to strum its strings, picking out a rousing tune to inspire her companions. She'd just settled into her rhythm when Katarina abruptly emerged from the shadows of a nearby tree and plunged her dagger into the bard's back.

James O'Toole may have taken on all comers at the Farholde fair, but he was no fool. He knew when he was in over his head. He turned, still bleeding and coughing, and fled into the woods. Carnitheria Rex, his blood boiling from pain and rage, took off after him. The brawler had made it no further than a dozen yards, though, when Artephius hurled an orb of viscous green fluid at his back. Just before it struck, however, James spun and knocked it out of the air with one deft flick of his wrist. His triumphant smile faded a moment later as all of the muscles in his body suddenly went rigid.
"He's all yours," Dorian called to Rex, satisfied with the results of his prayer of holding.
Rex snorted and closed rapidly to the paralyzed man. He turned his rump to James then lashed out with both rear hooves, and kicked him into a nearby tree trunk where he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Tardaesha pushed Yorgun towards Hallack, and when the soldier reached out reflexively to catch his friend, she ran at him and brought her sword down onto his shoulder where it bit deeply. He reeled backwards, releasing Yorgun, and that's when Tardaesha pulled her blade free and then rammed it through Hallack's throat. His eyes went wide in disbelief as he clutched feebly at his neck, trying to staunch the spray of blood there. His efforts didn't last long.

"No!!" Bianca cried out in anguish as she saw her lover fall.
Instinctively, Marta moved towards Hallack, even though she knew it was far too late. As she stepped past Katarina, however, the rogue struck her a solid blow to her temple, again using the pommel of her dagger. The nun staggered, but kept her feet. She pushed at Kat, trying to escape, but the youngest Dannister could smell blood in the water at this point. She chased after the priestess, laughing and taunting her. For her part, Bianca was focused solely on Hallack's murderer. She spun the words of a spell into her song, hoping to snare Tardaesha with the same magic that had trapped James. The anti-paladin was made of sterner stuff, however, and she shook off the effects of the dweomer. Still, 'Aesha loved a challenge and was glad to see the bard had a little fight left in her. She turned away from Yorgun, still unsteady on his feet.
"Where ye goin', b~*$~?" the dwarf snarled. "Ye killed my drinking buddy! I'll gut ya from stem to...,"
His rant was abruptly cut off when Roger thwacked him across the back of his head. His eyes rolled up into their sockets as he dropped like a log. Tardaesha turned her attention back to Bianca. Gripping her sword in both hands she rushed across the clearing, lips skinned back from her teeth in a battle snarl. Bianca blanched and tried to raise her lute up protectively. 'Aesha's blade smashed through it and almost through the bard's right arm. In shock, Bianca tried to stagger away but was brought up short when she backed into the iron frame of Artephius. She turned her head slowly, looking up into the one-eyed metal face with the disembodied brain floating in fluid above it. That was the last thing she ever saw before the golem crushed her spine.

Sister Marta was all alone now. Despite all of her training, she was afraid. Where was Iomedae? Why hadn't her goddess warned them? Protected them? For the first time since taking her vows she felt...doubt. The evil woman still pursued her, the knives in her hands gleaming wickedly. Marta glanced a risk over her shoulder to see how far back she was, but when she turned forward again, she ran headlong into what felt like a solid wall. Shaking her head to clear it, she looked up and saw the blood-red eyes and smoking nostrils of Carnitheria Rex looming over her. The nightmare reared up on its back legs and sent one of his front hooves into her forehead. Then...darkness.

____________________________________________________________

"Beautiful!" Tardaesha exclaimed as she held up each of the three black diamonds to the light, watching the flames from the torches dance across their facets. "Well done, Knick-Knack! Mommy is so proud!"
She caressed the toothsome little monster, who purred beneath her fingertips.

After the one-sided battle with the foolish adventurers, Dorian had staunched Yorgun the dwarf's wounds, then shackled him, James O'Toole and Marta together and dragged them back to the Horn. Dakota had the boggards take them to her newly renovated "interrogation" chamber, where she went to work on the two males. James buckled quickly, but the dwarf was tougher. Still, even he couldn't hold up long under Dakota's tender mercies. She made Marta watch all of it, so that when it came her turn, the young nun was more than willing to spill any information that she had. Not that it amounted to much. It turned out that they really were just treasure-seekers, and Marta was not on any direct mission from the Abbey of St. Cynthia-Celeste. When she was finished, Dakota slit the throats of both Yorgun and James, again witnessed by Marta, and then Tardaesha let Knick-Knack devour their souls, imprisoning them in the black gems, just as he had done with the departing soul of Hallack Amon. Afterwards, Marta was escorted by the boggard guards to the holding cells on the third level of the mountain, there to await her fate.

WEEK 3

The news from Farholde was mostly quiet, though there was a rumor about a local prostitute that had disappeared, only to reappear the next evening, very dead and gruesomely dissected.

Elise Zadaria also sent word that the Abbey of St. Cynthia-Celeste had posted a reward of 500 gold coins for any information leading to the whereabouts of one of their order who'd gone missing. A young nun by the name of Marta.

WEEK 4

A simple written missive from Elise arrived via courier: "New adventurers in town calling themselves Brendam's Breakers. They have been broken. No further difficulties."


14 Neth, 4716 - 10 Kuthona, 4716 -Vengeance By Night

WEEK 5

Kelvin was sleeping where he'd set up temporary accommodations at the base of the spiral staircase that wound up to the high sanctum. His fitful slumber was interrupted by the sound of a soft 'ping' that seemed as if it came from his ears, but actually originated in his subconscious. His eyes opened instantly. One of his alarms had been triggered.
"Hexor," he called out to the daemon standing guard over him, "notify your brother that we have an intruder. Have him use the Eye of Vigilance to see the second level entrance."
Hexor's eyes went distant for a moment as he mentally communed with his sibling.
"He sees them," the daemon said after several long seconds. "He says there are two of them. Large, white-furred hounds. He says he recognizes them: moon dogs!"
"What, pray tell, are moon dogs?" Kelvin asked calmly.
"Celestial curs!" Hexor spat. "They roam the planes hunting down our kind. The Horn must have drawn their attention."
"More's the pity for them," Kelvin smiled. "Broadcast this information to everyone. Tell Vexor to keep tracking them."

A moment later a mental bellow sounded to all the occupants of the Horn as Vexor called for general quarters.
'They have bypassed the warding glyph in the second level entry corridor,' he continued, narrating the movements of the interlopers. 'Hah! They seem stymied by the open pit, however.'
"Good thing we never got around to repairing that," Kelvin muttered.
'They are backtracking!' Vexor shouted. 'Moving down to the first level! Aha! Got those b$#!&es! The second warding glyph was much more effective!'
"Very well," Kelvin said. "Keep the updates coming. Tell the others I will join them in the lower temple. It seems that's where our guests are headed."

________________________________________________________________

The moon dog sisters Bethaniel and Darus Dandra were daughters of the Prince of the Moon himself. They were self-appointed vanquishers of evil who kept their own counsel and bowed to no authority on the prime material plane. The pair had long stalked the forests of the Caer Bryr, cleansing it of any corruption they found, dedicated to seeing the forest remained unsullied and pristine. When they sensed the doings at the Horn of Abaddon, the sisters knew that this was their calling. Unbeknownst to the members of the 9th Knot, they did not come alone.

Calliaste Shanda was a lillend who had come to the prime material plane centuries ago on an errand for the Prince of the Moon. That mission took her deep within the Caer Bryr and there she fell in love. Her original task long since completed, Calliaste tarried in the forest, reveling in the splendor of the grand and unspoiled wilderness. For her, the woodlands had a music of their own and she was enthralled by its ever-renewing harmonies. She knew the Dandra sisters well, and when they came to her with news of the Horn's awakening, the first person she reached out to was her long-time friend, the treant, Jurak the Elder. Imagine her shock, horror, grief and rage when she discovered that her ally had been murdered. So it was that Calliaste gathered her elven consorts to her and made the journey across the Caer Bryr with the moon dogs to the source of the new evil that had bloomed in the heart of her home.

____________________________________________________________

'Something is coming,' Bethaniel spoke telepathically into her sister's mind. 'Something wicked.'
'I sense it too,' Darus replied. 'It is not alone. Be prepared.'
The moon dogs sank into the deep shadows behind the enormous pillars of the lower temple and waited, cloaked in spells of invisibility. When the first enemy glided into the chamber, even their brave hearts quailed momentarily. The giant, hooded wraith was a presence of pure malevolence, and as his baleful, glowing eyes turned towards Bethaniel's hiding place, an involuntary low whine sounded from her throat.

Katarina slipped quietly and unseen into the temple behind Ezra Thrice-Damned. She had been warned by Vexor that the intruders were invisible, and so she had used one of her many wands to grant herself the ability to see the unseen. She spotted the dog-creatures easily enough and began moving stealthily towards the nearest one. Just then, a loud clanging and banging from behind her announced the arrival of Dorian and his alchemical golem, Artephius. Katarina winced at the clamor, but she knew it would serve to distract the moon dogs from her approach. It would also give Dakota, who had entered behind Dorian, the time to get in position to ply her bow with greatest efficiency. All was going according to plan, right up until the moment when the moon dogs revealed themselves and conjured up ten-foot tall walls of molten lave across the center of the chamber.

_______________________________________________________________

Lemmy awoke in a daze, his head pounding and his ears ringing. It took him several moments to remember where exactly he was. He was lying on the floor of the Death's Head Tavern, which he'd taken upon himself to begin renovating. Several empty tankards lay scattered around him, and when he sniffed at one of them, it came back to him. He'd been sampling his latest batch of Lemmy's Hard Lemonade, and he'd even invited a couple of the boggards to join him. He looked around and spied them passed out on the other side of the bar.
"Progress," he grumbled, hauling himself to his feet. "Not quite there yet, though."
From somewhere in the distance he thought he heard the faint sounds of shouting and...barking? Then he remembered the strange dream he'd been having just before he woke up. A demon or some such was yelling in his ear about being invaded by dogs.
"Damn it ta Hells," he grumbled, reaching for his boots.
He pulled open the door that led out into the hallway just as Roger was emerging from a room across the corridor where he'd taken up residence. The half-orc was fully kitted out, his sword in hand.
"Was' happenin'?" Lemmy slurred.
"Intruders," Roger said. "Must have been some party you and the frog boys had last night."
"Don't remember much," the dwarf muttered.
Roger just smirked.
"Come on," he said, starting off down the hall. "Sounds like they already started without us."

The two friends hurried towards the sounds of combat, but as they rounded a corner into the main hall that led to the lower temple, a strange sight met them. From an intersecting corridor emerged a half-dozen elves, three male and three female. They were dressed in soft leathers, dyed in subtle greens and browns, and they carried short bows in their hands, with short swords hanging from their hips.
"Elves!" Lemmy growled, hatred burning in his eyes.
Roger began moving towards them, but slowed when a seventh figure appeared behind the elves. From the waist up, she had the form of a beautiful, dark-skinned elven woman with golden, feathered wings sprouting from her back, but from the waist down her body was that of a great serpent.
"Murderers!" she hissed when she spotted the two members of the Knot.

______________________________________________________________

Ezra glided effortlessly through one of the great pillars on that ran down the walls of temple, avoiding the lava walls entirely. When he emerged on the far side, Darus jerked in surprise. The dread wraith reached out one pale hand and wrapped it around the moon dog's throat. She yelped and shrieked, struggling to break free of the bone-chilling grip. She began to howl...an ear-splitting sound that grated the nerves of every living creature within earshot. A moment later, Bethaniel joined in. Katarina and Dorian instinctively grabbed the sides of their heads, trying to block the horrible noise. It didn't help, and the siblings' nerve broke. Both of them, panic spreading across their faces, turned and fled from the temple as fast as they could run.

_______________________________________________________________

One of the male elves slammed backwards into the wall as Lemmy's kinetic blast broke almost every bone in his body, and he slumped limply to the floor.
"Yearrrgggh!" the dwarf then howled as a pair of white-fletched arrows took him in his lower back.
"Yes, my loves!" Calliaste sang. "Destroy them! Death to evil!!"
"You and what army, sister?" Lemmy growled.
He limped a step towards the lillend, his hands outstretched, and then sent a barrage of earth and stone into her face. He screamed again as the bows of the elves twanged and another volley of arrows struck home.
"Little help here, boy!" he snarled at Roger.
"On it!" Roger shouted.
The big half-orc rushed down the hall, his sword gripped tightly in both hands. Calliaste saw him coming, but it was too late. She was too big to evade swiftly. Roger's blade began to glow with black light as he called upon the unholy power of Asmodeus to smite his foe. He cut her a vicious blow, right across where her elven torso met her serpentine one, and golden blood spewed like a fountain.

______________________________________________________________

Bethaniel dashed towards where the wraith still menaced her sister, and as she ran, her howl changed in timber. A dense mist sprang up around her and soon engulfed Darus and the undead horror as well.
'Now, sister!' she shouted through their mental link.
'Not without tagging this bastard first!' Darus snarled.
Her own voice howled again, a different note as well, and white, holy energy flared around her like a nimbus. Ezra shrank back from the painful light, and Darus darted quickly away from him. She emerged triumphant on the far side of her sister's obscuring fog...and found herself face-to-face with Kelvin.
"Bad dog," the wizard sneered as he cast a cascade of arcane bolts in her direction.
They struck her full on, and in her already weakened state, she collapsed in a heap, mid-stride.

________________________________________________________________

Another of Calliaste's consorts fell before Lemmy's onslaught, and then another bow twanged, but that time it was one of the elves who cried out. As he fell, Lemmy was delighted to see Dakota standing further down the corridor. She threw him a sly wink. More bowstrings snapped behind him, and the dwarf's brief smile faltered. He now had seven arrows sprouting from various parts of his body, and he was losing blood quickly. He didn't care. He thrusts his fists forward and his blast turned the last of the male elves into a meat sack.
"Fall back, my loves!" Calliaste called to her remaining two consorts.
As she sang, she faded from view.

__________________________________________________________________

Bethaniel lifted her muzzle to the sky and howled in anguish the moment she sensed her sister's death. White fire blazed from her as well, but she knew the battle was lost. She needed to retreat and regroup with Calliaste. She darted for the door, but the wraith loomed up before her, his touch like a shard of ice to her soul. Then a ball of fire exploded around her as the accursed wizard who had slain Darus joined the fray. Her fur scorched and smoking, the moon dog didn't stop running. She fled from the temple and down the wide corridor beyond. Ahead, she spotted a burly figure in black plate armor blocking the hall, his back to her. She ducked her head low and dashed between his legs, the exit just ahead of her.

'Hexor! Stop her!' Kelvin called telepathically to the ceustodaemon.
Hexor heard and obeyed. In the literal blink of an eye, he vanished from the upper sanctum and reappeared at the entrance to the first level an instant later, just as Bethaniel rounded the last corner. She saw him too late, her feet sliding out from under her as she tried to stop in her tracks. Then the daemon opened his fanged maw, and a cone of raw electricity enveloped her. At least she would see her father and sister again soon.

As Kelvin strode purposefully down the hallway, he saw Roger battling a pair of female elves who were blocking the hall to the level's entrance. Almost casually, he flicked a fireball in their direction, instantly incinerating the two. Roger charged down the hallway, making for the entrance, but when he got there, he found only Hexor standing over the dead moon dog.
"Where is she?" Roger shouted.
"Who?" Hexor asked. "The dog? She's right there. The dead one."
"No, not her!" Roger said in exasperation. "The winged snake woman! She came this way!"
"Not that I saw," Hexor shrugged.
"Damn it to Hells!" Roger snapped. "That means she's still out there somewhere. I'm sure we haven't seen the last of her."

___________________________________________________________

WEEK 6

"Yes, I think these will do nicely," Kelvin said, looking up at the cluster of brilliant vermillion blossoms that adorned the entrance to the maw.
The delicate flowers seemed to be flourishing, despite the deepening darkness of the skies as the ritual progressed.
"What are they?" Dorian asked.
"Immature assassin vines," his brother replied with a grin. "It appears their growth rate has been greatly accelerated. Likely because of the enormous amount of raw magic pooling around the Horn. At their current rate of growth they will be fully mature within the week...and dangerous."
"What don't you just burn them away?" Dorian shrugged. "Can't risk them eating our boggards."
"Oh I think I can find another use for them," Kelvin said. "Especially after the latest incursion into our abode. You already sealed off the entrance to the third level with your stone shaping magic, but that still leaves the first and second level unwarded. I propose that we place these two beauties there. What a nasty little surprise for our next band of trespassers!"
Dorian looked puzzled. "Aren't assassin vines mobile? What's to keep them from simply wandering off?"
"I'm sure Dakota has some extra chains down in her little dungeon. We can secure them to the wall or floor. They'll have to fed, of course, but I'm sure that won't be a problem."

_______________________________________________________________

WEEK 7

A courier arrived at the beginning of the week, but it was surprisingly not with a message about another imminent attack. Instead, it was an invitation to a party. A birthday party to be specific. Baron Vandermir's 105th. All of Farholde's movers and shakers were sure to be there.

"I think I'll decline," Kelvin said in a bored tone. "But I'll be sure to send a nice card."
"I ain't goin' to no hoity-toity party for no damned half-breed elf!" Lemmy chimed in.
"Don't worry, my friend," Roger slapped the dwarf on the back. "I'll be sure and drink enough for the both of us!"
"Not my idea of a party," Dakota said. "I'm sure there won't be a single whip or prod to be found in the whole place!"
"Ditto," Tardaesha agreed. "Don't want to risk spreading any unfortunate infections amongst Farholde's well-heeled, do we? At least not yet...,"
"I'll go along," Dorian offered. "I think it would be nice to be back in civilization, even for an evening. Who knows? We might pick up some interesting gossip along the way."
"Have fun with that," Kat smirked. "If I'm walking all the way back to Farholde, there had better be a big pay day at the end of the journey."
"Guess it's just you and me then," Roger said to Dorian. "Make sure you wear your best!"

_____________________________________________

The soiree turned out to be the typical see-and-be-seen affair that the rich and famous simultaneously loved and abhorred, yet all-in-all, Dorian and Roger found it quite enlightening. For instance, Dorian overheard several conversations about one of the nuns from the abbey of Saint Cynthia-Celeste having gone missing, and idle speculation as to whether that had anything to do with the strange lights and rumblings from the Horn of Abaddon.

For his part, Roger was introduced via Elise Zadaria to Sir Valin Darian, the acting commander of Hamorhall in the absence of Lord Argus Welshire.
"Did you know that Sir Valin is a member of House Darius, and a direct descendant of the Victor himself!?" Elise gushed, clutching one of the blushing knight's arms.
"Really?" Roger nodded with unfeigned interest. "That is remarkable! What do you make of all these rumors about that strange mountain in the Caer-Bryr? The one your famous ancestor invaded so long ago?"
"I am itching to go there myself," Sir Valin grumbled, "but my current duties do not allow such an absence. Would that I had more men at my disposal."
"Indeed," Roger sipped at his drink. "Talingarde could use more men like you, Commander. Men who get things done! I'll wager we wouldn't be having all of these problems."
"Just so," Valin agreed.

___________________________________________________________

As Roger and Dorian said their goodbyes and prepared to return to the Horn to report their findings, Elise Zadaria slipped a folded note into the half-orc's hand.
"Heads up," she murmured as she walked away.
Roger waited until they were well on their way back to look at the missive.
'To the Ninth: A new group of adventurers are in town. They are too visible to attack directly. They assault the Horn soon, unsure of the exact time of arrival. They mentioned something about the "center eye." The third level entry? Traya DeMarco is the leader. A sorceress of some sort. Hassan J'raaq is a strange foreign barbarian with red skin, horns and a large curved sword. Tasker Twelve-Knives is a half-orc knife specialist with a weakness for pretty women, and Posca the Merchant is a dwarven cleric of Abadar. Greedy above all else---Z.'


10 Kuthona, 4716 - 7 Abadius, 4717 - New Enemies, Old Friends

WEEK 8

"Me bored," Gropdar the Lame croaked, for perhaps the fiftieth time in the past half-hour.
"Stop saying!" Kimbo the Slicer snapped, also for the fiftieth time.
The two boggards had been ordered by Zikomo Hears-the-Father to stand guard at this post, which was just an empty clearing in the forest. He didn't tell them why, nor what exactly they were watching for. He spoke, they obeyed, but being boggards, their attention spans tended did wander after a time. Some more than others.
"Me hungry, too," Gropdar complained. "Bored AND hungry!"
"Me going to eat you if no shut...!" Kimbo threatened, but his words trailed off.
Something had caught his eye in the distance.
"Run!" he hissed at Gropdar. "Run tell dread masters! More hoomans coming!"

___________________________________________________________

Tasker Twelve-Knives hacked viciously at the grasping, clinging vines that seemed to impede his every step, cursing all the while. He'd much rather be back in Auld'Irey enjoying the company of that wench he'd had last night, yet here he was, off on another of Traya's crazy schemes. The half-orc shook his head. Why he kept letting himself get talked into these things, he couldn't say. He supposed he just loved gold that much. He turned, ready to complain to Hassan that the big barbarian wasn't doing his job blazing the trail, when a flash of movement caused him to whip his head back around.
"Company!" he whispered harshly. "They're moving!"
Hassan looked around, his horned head swiveling right and left. Finally, he spied where Tasker was pointing, and in one swift motion he drew a javelin from the quiver on his back and hurled it, the muscles beneath his red skin rippling.
"Damn!" he spat in his heavily-accented common. "Just missed!"
"Get me up there!" Tasker snapped at Posca, seizing the dwarf by the arm.
"Posca will do as you ask," the surly merchant replied, shaking loose of the rogue's grip, "but Posca will not dirty his hands in base brawling!"
"Whatever!" Tasker growled. "Let's go!"
The dwarf began a guttural prayer, touching Tasker's sleeve as he did so. There was a flash of light and a feeling of rapid movement and disorientation. As Tasker's vision cleared, he found that he and Posca were now standing just a dozen feet from some kind of frog-man. Beyond it, another of the creatures fled into the forest. Tasker gripped his blades and stepped towards the nearby creature, slashing and feinting. He managed to graze it, but then it jabbed at him with its spear, puncturing a hole through his leathers and superficially into the skin beneath. Hissing, the half-orc drew back a step, but then he grinned as he looked over the frog-man's shoulder. Following his gaze, Kimbo the Slicer turned and saw the big, red human rushing towards him. He turned, raising his spear again, and that's when Tasker stepped in and plunged both of his daggers into the boggard's lungs.

__________________________________________________________

"Dread Masters," Zikomo said, bowing low before Kelvin and Dorian. "One of my warriors has returned with ill tidings. Speak Gropdar!"
He struck the prostrate boggard across the back with his staff. Gropdar yelped and scrambled to his knees, lifting his head only slightly, afraid to make eye contact with the humans.
"Me see more hoomans coming!" he began to babble. "Kimbo say to me run, so me run! Bad hoomans stab poor Kimbo!"
"I see," Kelvin nodded. "How long ago was this?"
Gropdar turned to look at Zikomo, confused. The oracle sighed in exasperation.
"Gropdar returned perhaps ten minutes past. The clearing where he and Kimbo were posted lies perhaps one mile south of the Horn."
"That gives us about twenty minutes," Kelvin replied, and turned to Dorian. "Notify the others. We'll assemble in the upper temple and have Hexor scry the lower entrances."

______________________________________________________________

"Hold!" Traya said, putting up one hand.
Her companions paused on the ramp leading up to the second-floor entrance to the Horn. According to the journal she'd purchased from the estate sale of one Sir Martyn of Brandinghshire, who'd claimed to have accompanied the Victor on his original raid of the Horn, there was a hollow column in the middle temple. In it was a staircase which led to the upper sanctum where, she hoped, she would find the Eyes of Vetra-Kali, priceless emeralds which would make her and her partners rich beyond their wildest dreams. As they approached the entrance to the mountain, however, something about the foliage overgrowing it disturbed her. Their flowers in particular...Then it hit her!
"Assassin vines!" she warned, snapping her fingers as she recalled her herbology lessons. "Stand back!"
Tasker and Hassan did as she commanded, and she began casting, and sent a pair of scorching rays of fire at the vines. They didn't seem to have much effect. Traya frowned. She didn't remember that from her classes. Trying another tactic, she cast again, and that time a swarm of arcane bolts struck the plants. They reacted immediately, writhing and thrashing, and then one of them shot out a long tendril which wrapped around Tasker's neck. The half-orc clutched at it, but his face was already turning red, then purple. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went limp as the deadly vine began dragging him closer. Hassan cried out in rage and charged forward, his scimitar cutting a wide arc and slicing through the assassin vine at the base of its stalk. It crumpled to the ground in a heap of twitching vegetation, blood leaking from its stem.

As Hassan moved to deal with the second vine, Posca rushed to Tasker's side and knelt beside the rogue.
"He lives still," he sighed in relief as he began tending the half-orc's wounds.
"A problem that will be soon remedied," a voice called from within the shadowy entrance of the mountain.
Kelvin stepped out into the sunlight, followed closely by Roger, Lemmy, Kat and Dakota. As the adventurers looked up in shock, Kelvin hurled a ball of crackling electricity into their midst. The would-be heroes screamed as the shocking tendrils coursed through their bodies...all except Tasker. He simply died. And Traya. The sorceress had prepared for such an eventuality, wreathing a magical sheath around her which guarded her from electricity.
"Clever," Kelvin nodded appreciatively. "Too bad you can't account for all of my tricks."
He tossed another explosive ball their way, but that one erupted into caustic acid, and when the vapors cleared, all that remained of Traya's Raiders were the bones.

_____________________________________________________________

WEEK 10

"Dread Masters," Zikomo hissed, bowing low before Kelvin and the others. "I come to you with ill tidings."
"What other kind are there around this place?" Tardaesha sighed.
"Speak," Kelvin instructed the boggard oracle, ignoring his sister's sarcasm.
"One of our hunting parties has not returned," Zikomo said, standing upright again.
"Is that unusual?" Kelvin asked. "No offense, but your warriors do seem easily...distractible. Perhaps they just found something interesting and lost track of the time."
"No!" Zikomo croaked angrily, and then seemed to remember himself. "No," he said more calmly. "These are veteran hunters. They know what will happen to them if they don't do their jobs."
"Very well," Kelvin sighed. "Where were they going?"
"Lake Skye," Zikomo replied. "East of here. I have read the omens and they speak of a great hunting demon. Would the great and powerful emissaries of Father Dagon wish to investigate?"
Kelvin rolled his eyes. "Well, since you put it that way...we would be happy to help."

______________________________________________________________

By that afternoon, all of the members of the 9th, save for Tardaesha, arrived on the shore of the the lake. Tardaesha had elected to stay behind, ostensibly to watch over the operations, but Dakota knew how much her twin abhorred tromping around in the humid, muddy bogs along the lake shore.
"Look at this," Kat said, kneeling down in the moist earth. "There are blood stains here, and some sort of animal fur. A drag trail leads that way."
She pointed up the shore line. The others followed her lead towards a stone spire that looked like a smaller version of the Horn. There the trail disappeared into a small cave at the base of the pillar.
"Looks like we'll find our answer in there," Kat nodded.

Katarina motioned for her siblings and friends to hang back as she crept silently and unseen into the shadowy tunnel. She emerged into a large, dry cavern, its floor littered with bones and animal remains. Three of those carcasses were undeniably boggards. Several piles of fur and grass had been piled around the edges of the room, almost like crude beds, and against one wall was a jumbled pile of humanoid skulls. A long ledge ran along the back of the cavern, and crouched upon it was the largest tiger Kat had ever seen or heard of. Its upper incisors protruded down below its chin like sabers. One eye peered balefully out of the darkness, but the other was covered in scar tissue. As Kat came to an abrupt halt and tried to melt into the shadows, the tiger raised its muzzle into the air and sniffed.

Before Kat could react, the tiger was up on its feet and lunging for her. It's teeth sank into her shoulder and it yanked her forward, tearing into her flesh with its razor-like claws.
"Get down!" Kat heard Dakota shout from behind her.
Instinctively she lowered her head just as two arrows whipped past her and sank into the great cat's chest. It hissed and spat but didn't release her. Then Kat heard Dorian's voice chanting, and a greasy, black miasma appeared around the tiger, scorching its fur and singeing its flesh.
"Back! Back I say!" Roger boomed, hammering his sword against his shield.
The tiger flinched and laid its ears back, its grip slightly easing on Kat. Then she heard a voice whisper in her ear.
"Hold still!" Kelvin said.
Arcane words where spoken, there was a flash of light, and when Kat was aware once more, she was standing back at the mouth of the cave. She could see Lemmy and Roger advancing on the beast. It seemed to be cowering from the big half-orc. Then Lemmy blasted it once...twice, and it fell to the floor, its sides heaving. Roger sheathed his sword and stowed his shield. Then he bent and lifted the huge creature across his shoulders.
"Trophy?" Dakota asked, arching one eyebrow. "I like a man who hunts."
"That would be a waste," Roger shook his head. "I think I might just be able to train it."

_________________________________________________________

WEEK 11

Another message arrived from Elise Zadaria that week, and it was by far the most disturbing one that the 9th Knot had received to date.

"Silver dragon seen over Farholde. Uncertain of whereabouts. Be ready. He may be on his way to the Horn.
Z."

____________________________________________________________

"Dread Masters," Zikomo croaked.
"Yes, oracle," Kelvin asked in a long-suffering tone, "what is it now?"
"My warriors have reported a giant in the forest. It comes this way."
This peaked the wizard's interest immediately, and he quickly assembled the other members of the Knot.

Within minutes, the companions were on the move, leaving the Horn to meet the so-called giant out in the open. It didn't take them long to find him. As they entered a clearing, a large figure emerged from the other side. While he was certainly big, perhaps nine feet in height, he could hardly be called a giant.
"Ogre," Kelvin snorted, amused at the exaggerations of the boggards.
"Not just any ogre," Dorian said quietly. "I think we may actually know this one."
The ogre paused, staring at them for several long moments, and then his wide, tusked mouth broke into a huge grin.
"Friends!" he called. "I never expected to find you here!"
"Grumblejack?" Dorian replied. "How...why....what...?"
The ogre loped across the clearing and seized the priest in a massive bear-hug, then swung him around in a circle.
"You thought I was dead, right?" he laughed
"We saw you die!" Dorian wheezed, the air being crushed out of him.
"Thought so too for a minute," Grumblejack nodded. "Turns out I only got knocked unconscious. When I woke up, all the guards were gone, chasing after you lot. Wasn't too hard for me to slip out of the keep, go over the wall and dive into the ocean below."
"You survived that??" Kelvin asked incredulously.
"Barely," Grumblejack nodded, setting Dorian back on his feet. "Was touch and go there for awhile."
"But what are you doing here?" Dorian asked. "How did you find us?"
"Wasn't looking for you," the ogre shrugged. "Started having strange dreams a couple of months back. Saw a mountain covered in green fire. Felt like I was supposed to go there, so I started walking. Now, here I am, and here you are. What are you all doing here?"
"It's a long story," Dorian shook his head. "Come, we'll explain on the way home."

________________________________________________________

Grumblejack marveled at the interior of the Horn as the 9th Knot gave him the tour.
"All of this...," he breathed, "is yours?"
"Well, at least for the next few months," Dorian shrugged. "After that...who knows?"
The ogre's eyes took on a faraway cast for a moment.
"There's something...upstairs...at the top...," he murmured.
"Umm...yes," Dorian said hesitantly. "The sanctum. How did you know that?"
"I...don't know....," Grumblejack replied. "Can I...see it?"

Kelvin didn't see the harm. If the big ogre suddenly went crazy, Vexor would be there to put him down. So they escorted Grumblejack to the very top of the Horn, to the sanctum itself. For several long moments, he just stood staring at the statue of Vetra Kali and the Seal.
"I've...been here," he said distractedly.
He swayed on his feet for a moment, then put a hand to his throat.
"Thirsty," he rasped. "So thirsty."
Before anyone could stop him, Grumblejack lunged towards the statue and plunged his face into the basin in front of it, lapping at the unholy liquid there like a dog. Vexor snarled and made to seize him.
"Wait!" Dorian commanded.
The daemon paused, barely contained rage on his face.
"Something's happening!" Dorian shouted. "Look!"
Grumblejack sat back on his knees, his head raised to the ceiling, his mouth stretched in agony...or ecstasy. The small horns that protruded from his forehead abruptly began to grow and curl upwards. Simultaneously, the leather jerkin he wore split up the back as a pair of large, bat-like wings sprouted from his shoulders. His tusks elongated to razor points and his eyes blazed with Hellfire. As the others watched in awe, he climbed heavily to his feet.
"I know who I am now," he rasped, turning to face them. "My ancestors once defended this place until the Victor came. Daemonic blood flows in my veins. I am home!"
Vexor grinned.
"Welcome, little brother!" he said, clapping Grumblejack on the shoulder.
Dorian stepped forward, also smiling.
"Tell me, my friend," he asked, "have you ever considered the teachings of Asmodeus?"

_______________________________________________________________

WEEK 12

One week later, Katarina, Dorian and Kelvin stood in the meditation hall on the third level of the Horn, discussing the nature of the teleportation circle that lay in its center. Suddenly, the circle flared to life and a figure stepped out of it. He wore a well-made breastplate, and carried a heavy shield in one hand. In the other he gripped a flaming sword. An amulet hung from around his neck, identifying him as an inquisitor of Iomedae.
"Well, well," he sneered as his gaze fell upon the Asmodeans, "looks like I'm in the right place."


7 Abadius, 4717 - 1 Calistril, 4717 - "How Did They Get In Here?"

Matthias Harkon was a fanatic, a fact that he was quite proud of. It was his fanaticism that had kept him doggedly on the trail over the last few months. A trail of clues and events that pointed to a vile conspiracy facing Talingarde. A trail that ended in Farholde. And what had he discovered in that small, backwater town? Why, that a great green glowing spire of stone had manifest in the forests beyond the city. Coincidence? Harkon thought not, which was why he now stood in the center of some blasphemous temple facing the followers of Asmodeus.

As Harkon smiled at his good fortune, the teleportation circle behind him flashed again. Turning, he nodded to Thomas who stepped clear of the circle to make way for the others. The young penitent's eyes darted all around, wary and harboring more than a little fear. Good, Harkon thought. He should fear...fear for his immortal soul if he did not rise to the occasion and hold to the pact he'd made to avoid being burned at the stake for his heresies.

"No," one of the Asmodeans spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm that made Harkon want to ram the blade of Wytchbrand down his throat. "You are absolutely in the wrong place."
Kelvin clapped his hands together, arcane words upon his lips. When he pulled them apart again, a small ball of solid ice hovered between them. Thrusting his hands forward, he hurled the ice ball at the pair of trespassers. Thomas's eyes widened and he quickly dove for cover behind one of the nearby pillars. Harkon didn't even try. He held his flaming sword before him, confident that it and his faith would protect him. Neither did. The ice ball exploded in a blast of razor-like shards and numbing cold. Harkon was nearly blown off his feet. As it was, as the air cleared, he was bleeding heavily from dozens of wounds and his flesh was so pale it bordered on blue.
"Nice work," Katarina nodded to her brother. "I'll take it from here."
Thomas watched in horror and disbelief as the dark-haired woman abruptly vanished, and then reappeared right behind Harkon, a wicked-looking blade in her hand, which she promptly drew across the inquisitor's throat. Gurgling and drowning on his own blood, Matthias Harkon, inquisitor of Iomedae, died.

Thomas panicked. Where were the others? They should have been here by now! He leaped to one side as a fireball erupted nearby, narrowly evading the blast. A moment later, however, he felt the sting of a thousand wasps in his back as Kelvin sent a salvo of arcane missiles at him. He stumbled for cover, but then Kat was in front of him, slashing at his belly. Thomas jerked backwards, the blade tearing his tunic but not his flesh. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the circle in the middle of the floor glowing again. Thank Iomedae! He was saved!

When Brother Armand Vyte stepped out of the teleporter, his eyes went immediately to the fallen form of Harkon.
"No!" he cried.
Looking around, he finally noticed Thomas struggling to put some distance between himself and Katarina.
"Fight, you fool!" Vyte commanded. "Fight or I'll send you to Hell myself!"
Thomas, not knowing whom he feared more at that moment, stopped fleeing and instead whirled on Kat. Momentarily surprising her, his short sword managed to score a grazing blow across her ribs.
"Enough!" Kelvin snarled.
His hands flexed like claws as he spat the words to a spell. A circular wall of flame suddenly erupted from the floor, surrounding the teleportation circle and scorching both Thomas and Brother Vyte in the process.
"Yes, that will be quite enough!" Vyte shouted back, ignoring his smoldering vestments as he began to chant a prayer. Abruptly, a burst of blinding radiance emanated from the priest, dazzling Dorian and blinding Kelvin, while searing both of them with its heat.

At that very moment, within the engulfed circle, the ring flashed and a soldier dressed in full plate armor appeared. His tabard bore the heraldry of the Iomedaen inquisition, and he gripped a halberd in both hands. As he appeared, however, the flames from the fire wall licked at him, and he recoiled involuntarily. Kelvin, though unable to see, could hear the soldier's cry of alarm, and he quickly cast another spell, hurling a ball of crackling electricity in that direction. It exploded in a violent coruscation, and the resulting blast killed not only the soldier, but also Armand and Brother Vyte, who were both still standing too near the circle. Kelvin's vision slowly returned, clearing in fits and starts, just as the ring flared one last time, and two more soldiers appeared within the wall of flames. Almost casually, the young wizard tossed a fireball towards them, and snuffed out their lives in an instant.

_________________________________________________________

"What did you find out?" Kelvin asked.
"Knick-Knack communed with Nessus," Tardaesha replied, "and he was able to confirm that there is a fourth teleporter."
"A fact we'd already assumed," Kelvin nodded. "Dorian?"
His brother sat forward in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin, an affectation he'd picked up from their father.
"Well, as you know," he began, "I tried to commune with the spirit of the inquisitor, but his will was too strong. I had better luck with the soldiers, but they really didn't know anything. Just following orders and such. However, the other one, Thomas, now he was a different story. Very forthcoming. He was apparently an unwilling ally of the inquisition, merely serving out a sentence to avoid being burned at the stake. He said that their group had arrived in Farholde after following a trail of vicious murders in small villages from Lake Tarik into the Scarden."
"Tiadora," Kelvin growled.
"My thoughts as well," Dorian agreed. "In any event, they came to Farholde upon hearing rumors that some creature or cult was stalking the streets attacking anyone who expressed an interest in the great green glowing spire that had manifested in the Caer Bryr. The inquisitor, Matthias Harkon, had then apparently visited the Abbey of Saint Cynthia-Celeste to have an audience with the abbess. By accessing the Abbey archives, he had found a full account of the Victor's raid upon the Horn, as well as one other thing: he also found information about the teleportation circles, including the fact that one of the circles was not actually inside the Horn, but in a nearby ruin."
"Did Thomas know the activation word?" Kelvin asked.
Dorian smiled. "Zen," he said.

_______________________________________________________________

The members of the Ninth Knot gathered around the teleportation circle in the temple in preparation to travel to the unknown location of the fourth circle. Dakota glanced up as Tardaesha entered the hall, and then did a double-take.
"What does Knick-Knack have in his mouth?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.
Tardaesha glanced back at the little cacodaemon hovering behind her shoulder.
"Oh that," she said. "That's just his wand."
"His wand?" Kelvin asked. "Why does he need a wand?"
"He's practicing," Tardaesha shrugged.
"For what?" Kelvin asked, his eyes narrowing as well.
"He can do magic now," 'Aesha said nonchalantly. "He says he's a sorcerer. He wanted a wand."
"But he doesn't have hands," Kelvin replied. "How can he even use it?"
Tardaesha shrugged again. "He holds it with his tail, I guess."
"It doesn't work like that," Kelvin shook his head in exasperation.
"I dunno," 'Aesha said. "It makes him happy."
Distracted by the wand-wielding daemon, Dakota finally noticed the robed figure that now stood behind her twin.
"Who is that!??" she cried, reaching for her bow.
Tardaesha glanced behind her again.
"Oh, that's Oddball," she said. "Say 'hello,' Oddball."
Draped in rags and hunched over on goat-like legs, the creature possessed a featureless face, save for a large eye ringed by fangs. It didn't so much speak as project its thoughts into the minds of the Knot.
"Hello," it said in a voice that grated the nerves like bone on bone.
Dakota winced, covering her ears.
"Where did it...he...come from?" she asked.
"I summoned him," Tardaesha said. "Just like I summoned Knick-Knack. Ordinarily, when I summon a new servant, my former one will return to its home plane, but Knick-Knack decided to stay, now that he's a sorcerer. He says he will serve me until he dies."
She smiled and patted the feral little fiend affectionately. Kelvin just sighed and turned back to the circle.
"Whenever you're ready, Dorian," he said.

_________________________________________________________________

The companions arrived in the midst of several ruined buildings, the circle glowing at their feet. In the distance, no more than a couple of miles away, the glowing Horn of Abaddon could be clearly seen.
"Destroy it," Kelvin said to Roger. "We can't have anymore surprises. Which reminds me: I think we need to pay a visit to Farholde. The White Ravens may have some explaining to do."

____________________________________________________________

"A messenger was sent," Elise Zadaria said in a bored tone. "What more could we do? If we could possibly send a magical message, we would, but whatever is happening in the Horn makes that impossible. You know that. The only thing that matters is that you survived and the mission continues."
"Yes, of course," Kelvin smiled humorlessly. "It pleases me to know that you are so concerned about our welfare."
"Why would I not be?" Elise asked. "After all, our goals are the same."
Kelvin wondered if that were actually true, but he held his tongue.
"Well, it's obvious we need a more efficient way to communicate," he said instead. "I propose that at dawn each morning, Trik use a spell of sending to contact Dorian, who will arrange to be outside the Horn the same time each day. Even if there is nothing to report, we will expect your message."
"Easy enough," Elise smiled. "We are at your service."

___________________________________________________________

Before the Ninth Knot departed Farholde, Dakota insisted that they first pay a visit to Baron Vandermir. The Baron was not exactly enthusiastic about receiving his uninvited guests, but receive them he did.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to be here," he said. "What if you had been seen?"
Tardaesha tapped the iron circlet on her brow, causing her disguise as an Iomedaen nun to momentarily flicker.
"We are not completely stupid," she smiled. "Plus we let ourselves in through the tunnel beneath the hovel you set aside for us."
"And we won't be here long anyway," Dakota interrupted. "I have only a simple request."
The Baron looked suspicious. "Which would be...?"
Dakota gave him her most winning grin.
"I have an...associate. A young guardsman called Timeon. He once served as a squire at Balentyne, so he has soldiering experience. I would like you to find him a position with the garrison at Hamarhall."
"For what purpose?" Vandermir snapped.
"Because we need trustworthy eyes and ears there," Dakota replied. "That's all you need to know."
The Baron's face reddened momentarily, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly closed it again when he saw Katarina fingering her knives.
"Very well," he said at length. "I will arrange it. Tell him to report for duty tomorrow."

____________________________________________________

WEEK 13

"There ya go, mutts!" Lemmy chuckled, putting the bowls of raw meat down in front of the three hounds he'd purchased in Farholde. "My own special recipe. Eat up!"
The dogs eagerly went to the bowls and began inhaling the bloody meal noisily. Lemmy watched them with a bemused look on his face. After several moments, first one of the curs, then the other, and the other began to cough. Foam formed at the corners of their mouths and they started vomiting violently. Soon, all three of them collapsed to the floor, convulsing for several more minutes before going still.
"Sorry about that boys," Lemmy shook his head.
Kneeling before the statue of Vetra-Kali, he drew out a dagger and slashed each of the dogs' throats, letting the blood flow into the basin before the shrine. Then he waited. It didn't take long. The bodies began to twitch and jerk. Smoke rose in tendrils from their flesh until their fur was scorched black. An instant later, their eyes opened, and they blazed red. All three hounds leaped to their feet, growling and snarling, and when they opened their mouths, flames leaped from the backs of their throats.
"That's more like it!" Lemmy laughed. "Wait 'till Roger gets a look at you lot! He won't think his little pony's so damn fancy then!"

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"Dread Masters," Zikomo gargled, bowing and scraping before the throne.
Kelvin's face was buried in his palm, only one eye showing as it peeked between his fingers. No wonder villains eventually went insane and murdered all of their followers.
"Yes, oracle?" He asked, barely managing to keep the venom out of his voice. "What has gone wrong this time?"
"As Your Omnipotence is aware," the boggard shaman replied, "ever since the Horn began glowing with the Light of the Father, more of my tribesman have been arriving each week, answering the divine call!"
"Yes," Kelvin nodded, "I am well aware, and we are grateful for your tribes' contributions."
"Well...," Zikomo paused for a moment before continuing, "no new recruits have arrived in the past two weeks. I fear something may have befallen them."
Kelvin knew where this was going.
"So let me make sure I understand." He asked anyway. "You want us to go and find out what has happened to your tribesmen?"
"The Dread Masters always see things so clearly!" Zikomo grinned.
"It actually may not be such a bad idea," Dorian whispered in Kelvin's ear. "Elise Zadaria did say she sent a messenger to warn us about the inquisition. Perhaps whatever is responsible for the missing boggards is to blame for that as well."
"Fine!" Kelvin threw up his hands. "Inform the others. We're going on another bug hunt."

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When the Ninth left the Horn early the next morning, they looked less like a band of adventurers, and more like a royal hunting expedition. Roger rode mounted on the back of Carnitheria Rex, while Lemmy traipsed alongside, his trio of hellhounds ranging out before him at the end of long chain leads. Grumblejack strode beside Dorian, bedecked in shining plate armor emblazoned with the symbol of Asmodeus and carrying a mighty greatsword strapped to his back. Tardaesha, not to be outdone, kept her own minions close by as well. Knick-Knack floated happily near her shoulder, while Oddball drifted along in her wake.

Before long, the hellhounds began baying and growling, snuffling along the ground. Lemmy saw that they had found hoof tracks from a heavy horse in the moist earth. The tracks were not hard to follow, and eventually led to a grove of large evergreens. At the center of the grove, in a small clearing, stood a single large tree, with green, leafy vines looping down out of its branches. Abruptly, Carnitheria Rex halted in his tracks. Beside him, Dorian and Lemmy did the same, their faces slack and the hellhounds' leads loosening in the dwarf's grip. Even Knick-Knack ceased his endless bobbing, and simply drifted aimlessly in the air around Tardaesha's head.
"What...?" Roger was about to ask, but that's when things got really weird.

The tree suddenly uprooted itself from the soil and began walking slowly on its tendrils towards the companions. As it did so, one of its many vines coiled itself into a noose and then shot towards Roger, dropping over his head and then cinching tightly around his neck. The big half-orc was pulled bodily out of the saddle and held dangling in the air by the throat, his face going red and then purple.
"Let him go!" Dakota shouted in dismay. "He's mine!!"
She quickly drew her bow and let fly with two arrows. Both struck the trunk of the massive tree, but one of them managed to find a chink in its barky hide and sank in all the way to the fletchings. The tree groaned and shivered, but did not release its hold on Roger. Kelvin hurled a ball of lightning, but the spell just evaporated as it struck the tree.
"Oddball, you know what to do!" Tardaesha commanded.
The dev nodded its cloaked head, then grabbed his mistress by the hand. Both of them vanished in a flash of light, and then reappeared again right behind the hangman tree. Tardaesha already had her sword drawn, and as soon as her eyes cleared, she struck out, the blade biting into the tree trunk over and over again. The tree shivered violently again, and then with a long, low rumble, toppled over. Roger rolled free, gasping and clutching at this throat, his color gradually returning to normal.

Once Roger's wounds were tended, and the effects of the tree's hypnotic spores had worn off, the companions searched its grove thoroughly. For their efforts, they turned up many, many bones, several of them clearly boggard, as well as one clearly equine. Clutched in the hand of one humanoid skeleton, they found a satchel containing a missive from Elise Zadaria warning about a new incursion to the Horn. It seemed the mystery had been solved.

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WEEK 14

A fiery preacher in Farholde named Ezekiel Hawthorn was stirring up trouble in the local churches. He preached a message of unity and resistance against the growing tide of darkness. His sermons specifically mentioned details about the Horn of Abaddon and the wicked deeds being perpetrated there. He spoke of Iomedae-given visions and omens of dark times to come. He even went so far as to advocate forming a militia to storm the Horn. When news of this reached the Ninth via the White Ravens' daily sending, it was obvious to all that this zealot had to go.

It was ultimately decided by the companions that they should let their minions within Farholde, the thugs and rakes of the Vandermir Orphanage, handle the preacher. It would be less conspicuous and not tip their hand too soon. The assassination was carried out with little difficulty, but it didn't have the effect that the Ninth had hoped for. Instead, the priest's death made him into a martyr among his followers, convincing them of the truth of his words. There would surely be repercussions...

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WEEK 15

Two significant events occurred that week. The first, and by far the less significant (unless you asked Roger) was that the anti-paladin finally managed to get his new pet, the dire tiger he'd named Scar, to obey his commands without trying to eat him or disembowel him.

The second event was when the 111th day of the Ritual arrived...the exact midpoint, which required a second sacrifice. This time Dorian did the honors. Sister Marta was brought from the holding cells, bloodied, beaten, but still unbowed, to the altar of Vetra-Kali. Dakota and Tardaesha stripped her of her habit, and tied her naked to the stone. As dawn broke, Dorian intoned the Cursing of the Light, and then cut Marta's heart from her chest and placed it in the bowl beside the statue where the first heart, black and shriveled, still beat, sustained by dark magic. A voice echoed throughout the Sanctum...the same alien and malevolent voice from the first prayer...
"Tezathra Vo! I see!"
The three eyes of Vetra-Kali flared with green light and the Horn trembled. Once again a great beacon of emerald fire erupted into the morning sky, and for the rest of the day the sun's rays were barely seen. That day, the sun failed, and Vetra-Kali's dominion drew nearer


1 Calistril, 4717 - 22 Calistril, 4717 - The Banner Verdant

WEEK 16

Tardaesha had warned the others that Knick-Knack was predicting an eminent attack within the next three days, and Kelvin had ordered everyone to barricade themselves in the upper level mediation hall for safety in numbers. This arrangement began to chafe at Dakota before the first day was out, and she complained bitterly and non-stop. The only ones who were not included in the extended sleep-over were Artephius, Knick-Knack and Carnetheria Rex. Dorian posted the golem in the lower level throne room, and the nightmare agreed to wait with the construct at Roger's request, while the little cacodaemon took up a position near the ceiling where he could keep an eye on things and report telepathically to his mistress.

Shortly after midnight on the second night of the vigil, a vision manifested in the lower temple. An angelic being with wings of glowing fire appeared out of nowhere, a sword of light gripped in its golden hands. Caritheria Rex's eyes went wide in terror as the celestial being stalked towards him. He reared on his back legs, pawing at the air furiously with his flaming hooves. It availed him not. The angel drew back its blade and then drove it straight through the nightmare's chest and heart. He fell to the floor in a heap, drew one last hitching breath, and expired. Knick-Knack bobbed unseen in the rafters, confused by what he'd just witnessed. He saw no angel. All had been quiet and peaceful until the nightmare had suddenly reared up and attacked thin air, then simply fallen down and died. He was still pondering this when he saw a shadow move within the deeper shadows of the temple.

'Mistress!' Knick-Knack's panicked voice pounded into Tardaesha's skull. 'Dark stallion is dead! Shadow of ashes here now! Come quick!'
Tardaesha shook her head in confusion.
"Something's wrong in the lower temple," she said to the others. "Knick-Knack says that Carnitheria Rex is down and there is something there with them."
Roger's eyes went wide with fear and anger. He didn't wait for orders, but ran for the teleportation circle and spoke the command word for the first-floor throne room.
"We'd better get after him," Tardaesha said. "Dakota, you're with me. Oddball?"
The dev nodded, and then gripped the sisters by their shoulders. His fanged eyeball glowed, and then all three of them vanished.

The throne room was in chaos as Tardaesha's vision cleared. Artephius stood in the center hurling bombs of electricity at something that looked like a whirling cloud of charred, screaming corpses.
"It's incorporeal!" Dakota shouted. "Those bombs won't stop it!"
She drew a pair of specially prepared arrows, salted with an alchemical mixture, from her quiver and fired them both at the ashen nightmare. The arrows struck true, impaling the horror as if it were flesh and blood, and it wailed inhumanly. A wave of black energy surged from it, and as it washed over the defenders, they all felt somnolence and fatigue momentarily overcome them before quickly passing...all except for Oddball. Tardaesha looked towards the dev when she heard snoring coming from behind her. Oddball lay crumpled on the floor, gurgling snorts coming from somewhere within his cowl as he slept. She turned back just as the cloud surged towards them. One of the corpses within its mass swiped a clawed hand at the anti-paladin, and where it touched her flesh, she began to burn with black fire. She screamed in agony, clutching her hands to her face as she sank to her knees. Above her, Knick-Knack hissed in fury, and sent a barrage of arcane missiles into the roiling cloud, which seemed to affect it just fine. It wailed again, and turned away from Tardaesha. Dakota was waiting. She put two more ghost-salted arrows in the creature, and with a final howl of damnation, it dissipated away into nothingness.

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"What...what was that??" Roger asked.
He was still in shock as he stared down at Carnetheria Rex, a single tear trickling down his cheek.
"Dorian spoke with Ezra about it," Kelvin replied. "The wraith told him that during the Victor's assault on the Horn, a dozen cultists were killed simultaneously in a fireball explosion. They were burned to ashes and fused into a charred mass. They were not interred. Every year since then, their spirits arise as that...thing, and rampage through the Horn for a single night, seeking to destroy anything living. It has never been much of an issue since the mountain has remained largely unpopulated...until now."
"And he never thought to warn us about this!?" Roger raged.
"He didn't think it was important, since the nightmare had never troubled him," Kelvin sighed.
Roger's face flushed, but he said nothing further. He turned and left the temple. Later that night, he had several boggards drag the nightmare outside, where he'd erected a funeral pyre. He cremated the stallion in a solemn ceremony attended by none but himself.

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WEEK 17

Two reports came in from Farholde that week. The first was from Timeon. He had begun his duties at Hamarhall, and was settling in nicely. He'd been watching the Lord Commander closely, as he'd been ordered to by Dakota, and he was pleased to inform her that Sir Darian was growing increasingly restless with the rumors surrounding the Horn. He was virtually champing at the bit to go investigate himself.

The second missive, this one from the White Ravens, informed the Ninth that a low-level gang war had erupted between the toughs of the Vandermir Orphanage and a Drownington-based crime ring calling themselves Thatcher's Crew. Bergill Mott, headmaster of the orphanage, had requested assistance. Kelvin's decision was fast and ruthless...wipe them out! The Ninth elected to handle this task in person, and in a brutal midnight raid, executed every last member of Thatcher's Crew. Their minions were duly impressed.

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Roger sat near the opening of the Horn's second level, absently scratching Scar between the ears. The big tiger purred contentedly, but Roger could sense a tenseness to the beast.
"What's wrong, old boy?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
Scar turned his one good eye to his master and growled low, and in the cadence of that rumble, Roger thought he could make out a single word...revenge...

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WEEK 18

"Knick-Knack says that we're going to be attacked this week," Tardaesha reported to the others. "It will come from the caves."
"Then that's where we'll position ourselves for the week," Kelvin said.
"Again??" Dakota whined. "We have to just hang around in the same place again? It's boring!!"
"You'll have the boggards to entertain you," Tardaesha smiled, "and Roger will be there as well."
Dakota actually blushed.

As it turned out, Kelvin sent all the boggards, along with Zikomo, to the upper levels for their own safety. The Ninth, along with Grumblejack, Knick-Knack, Oddball and Lemmy's three hounds, took up residence in the empty village...and waited.

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Fineas Greenhold held up one hand for quiet while he closed his eyes and focused. After a moment, the little gnome nodded and smiled.
"Right where he said it would be," he whispered and pointed towards the jagged maw that marked the opening of the caverns beneath the Horn. "An alarm spell has been strung across the entrance."
"Bah!" Angus Madthorn snarled. "Let'em know we're comin'! I'd welcome a straight-up brawl to all this skulkin' around!"
Fineas ignored the dwarf. He was used to the barbarian's bluster.
"Just wait a moment," he said, "and I'll have it disabled in a jiffy."
He focused again and saw the strands of magic that held the spell together in his mind's eye. Weaving his own counter-spell, he carefully untied them.
"There now," he said, dusting off his hands dramatically, "all clear."

He, Angus and the other members of the Banner Verdant made their way cautiously into the caves. Their source had informed them that there might be a couple of dozen boggards waiting for them, as well as the dread masters of the Horn themselves. Fineas shivered a little at the thought of that, especially when he recalled what their newest member had told them of the last time she'd faced the villains. He glanced over at the dark-skinned woman.
"Beautiful!" he sighed to himself.
"Mind your business," Vethia Dora said sharply. "This is no time for childish games. Besides, I still don't trust that one."
This again. Fineas knew that the elven ranger still did not believe that Calliaste Shanda was not a drow, a dark elf, even though the lillend had revealed her true form to them when she'd come to them offering her assistance upon learning of their planned journey to the Horn. Fineas ignored Vethia's xenophobia. Instead he pointed towards the southeastern wall of the otherwise bare cavern the group now stood in.
"The old priest said that's where we'd find the secret door," he said.
He moved to examine the featureless stone, and after a moment, he dug his fingers into a tiny, almost invisible crack. He turned to his friends, grinning broadly, and indicated the spiral staircase that now stood revealed behind the hidden portal.

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'Intruders!' Hexor's mental shout blasted into the heads of each member of the Ninth.
"What?" Kelvin asked aloud and mentally. "Where? How?"
'They came up the staircase from the caverns!' Hexor bellowed. 'They are trying to reach the sanctum!'
"Stop them, even if it costs your your lives!" Kelvin shrieked. "We're on our way!"
Without hesitating, the wizard grabbed Lemmy, who was the closest, opened a dimensional door and pulled them both through. A moment later, they appeared in the spiral stair, about a dozen paces from the top. They could hear the sounds of combat coming from above, as well as the deafening roar of some great beast. Cautiously, Lemmy crept to the top.

What the dwarf saw when he peered over the lip of the stairwell left him uncharacteristically speechless. Hexor was besieged on all sides. Lemmy could see a ridiculous looking gnome tossing spells at the daemon while an angry-looking dwarf took swipes at him with a greataxe. On the far side of the room an elf woman with a bow was putting arrows into his back. All of this paled in comparison, however, to what had immediately gotten Lemmy's attention. Towering above Hexor was a dinosaur! Lemmy had seen pictures of them before, but nothing compared to real life! He thought this particular one was called a gigantasaurus rex or some such. Whatever its name, Hexor seemed to be having a tough time with it. Suddenly a light flashed in the room, and Vexor appeared.
'That ought to even the odds,' Lemmy thought to himself.
But that was when he noticed the snake-tailed woman on the opposite side of the dinosaur.

Brunhild Sturmdottir reveled in the animalistic abandon of the form she currently wore. The druidess didn't often get the opportunity to set her wild side free, but at least this day, she did not have to hold back. The demonic creature raked at her with its claws, but her thick, reptilian hide barely felt the blow. She let loose an ear-splitting roar and prepared to charge the brute, but then a flash of motion caught her eye. A figure had crept out of the stairwell from which she and her companions had ascended. It was a dwarf. Curious. Before she could determine if he was friend or foe, however, one of his hands turned into a metallic lance, which he promptly ran thru both Vethia and Caliaste.

Another flash of light appeared in the center of the room as Oddball stepped thru anothe portal with Tardaesha, Dakota and Knick-Knack close behind. Caliaste saw them immediately, and her eyes flashed with hatred as she began to sing. Though her voice was beautiful, her song was deadly. A burst of pure sound washed over the foursome, buffeting them with its force, and leaving Knick-Knack stunned on the floor. Dakota reeled, but she still saw Angus Madthorn charging towards her, his axe raised high. Unable to bring her bow to bear, she thrust a hand palm out at the dwarf and spoke a swift prayer. Immediately, Madthorn froze in his tracks, held in place by some invisible force.

Hexor and Vexor stood back-to-back in the center of the chamber, trying to keep an eye on all of the combatants scrambling about. As several of their assailants regrouped to coordinate a charge, Hexor saw his chance. Opening his ape-like maw, he spewed electricity down upon Angus, Vethia and Caliaste. The energy washed over the lillend like bath water, but it left deep burns in the flesh of the ranger and the dwarf. Angus roared in anger and agony as he shook free of Dakota's spell. Vethia, her hair still smoking, pivoted on one foot just as Roger rushed towards the towering Brunhild, and put an arrow right between his shoulder blades. She smiled when she saw him stumble, and that's when she saw the wizard emerge from the stairwell. Too late, as it turned out.

Kelvin threw out both of his hands and loosed a small seed that quickly blossomed into a powerful blast of caustic acid. The spray caught all of the intruders within its radius, and left the elf woman a smoking corpse on the floor in its aftermath. Even the damnable lillend's skin boiled, but only for a moment. In the next instant, Lemmy literally flayed the flesh from her bones with a withering blast of metallic shards that ripped through her body like razor blades.
"Stop it!" Fineas Greenhold abruptly shouted, and to both his amazement and Lemmy's, the dwarf did just that.
"Cease your attacks on us, friend," the gnome said, panting with exertion. "We are not your enemies."
"Not my enemies," Lemmy nodded.
Even as he spoke these words, Brunhild loomed over Tardaesha and clamped her jaws down completely over the anti-paladin, then lifted her into the air, shaking her back and forth like a rag doll. As the dinosaur threw back her head to swallow her prey whole, Vexor unleashed his own breath weapon and roasted Brunhild alive. Tardaesha dropped heavily to the floor, bleeding profusely, but she was not out of it yet. She had landed right behind the talkative little gnome, and with the last of her strength, she drove her sword through his back, ceasing his prattling once and for all.
"Proud of yerself, are ya, b~%@&?" a voice growled from behind her. "That were my friend ya just kilt, so it's only fittin' that you join him!"
Angus Madthorn swung his axe in a broad arc, and buried its head in Tardaesha's spine. She slumped forward with a groan and a sigh, and didn't move again.
"And that were my friend!" Lemmy shouted.
Angus whirled towards him, just in time to catch a face full of metal blast.

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From the journal of Fineas Greenhold:

"What an interesting development today. We were approached by a so-called holy man full of talk about visions and angels and so forth. He claimed these spirits had driven him to stop the wickedness going on in the Horn, and to rally us to our 'destiny.' Mentioned us almost by name, the angels did! I'm flattered."
"He delivered us his pitch and then gave to us an immense pile of information, including maps, names and so much more. Really, he did everything but give the keys to the front door."
"Of course I don't accept such gifts without a fair degree of skepticism. I had Vethia trail the 'holy man,' and our fears turned out to be justified. She saw this angel-speaker slip into a side alley and transform back into a dark-haired and much younger human."
"My tracker followed the human through the streets of Farholde, and saw the young man rendezvous with a strange, white-haired woman with a white raven on her shoulder. He called her 'Z.'"
"They didn't say much to each other. All he said was, 'It is done. The Ninth is finished.' I am unsure exactly what that means, but clearly we are being used in some sort of double-cross between various factions of the cult that occupies the Horn. Ah, evil-doers. They never change."
"So, they want us to be their assassins, eh? Well, it's a job we don't mind doing. We'll be cautious about this information, obviously, but I think it's likely to pan out. They wouldn't want their dupes to fail after all, would they? Of course, when we're done, I think we'll pay the 'holy man' a little visit as well. Vethia is pretty sure the woman in white must be staying in the nearby inn, The Auld Briarhall in Auld'Irey."
"What a piece of work is my elven tracker! She tracked a shapechanger through almost a half mile of city, managed to eavesdrop on a private, guarded conversation, and reported back without even a ripple of trouble. Hah! Remind me to give that girl an almost even share of the treasure!"
"Tomorrow we attack the Horn with our new friend, Calliaste. She has also confirmed much of the information that we have, and is anxious for some payback. I can feel it in my bones. This is the big one! After this, I just know that our wee little band will never be the same."

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'What are your orders, Master?' Dorian's message to Thorn ended.
There was no immediate response. Instead, moments later there was a flash of fire and brimstone. Standing on the ledge in front of Dorian were a pair beautiful, winged women. They would have looked almost angelic if not for the dark stains on their wings, and the bows of flame they gripped in their hands.
"We are Tisaera and Melinoe," the pair spoke in unison. "We are the furies of Thorn. The Knot Hibernal is declared broken. In accordance with the Pact of Thorns, the traitors are released. They are no longer bound in service nor do they enjoy protection. Make them suffer for their treachery and then return to the work at hand. Bring to the Master the daemon's gift!"


22 Calistril, 4717 - 22 Gozran, 4717 - Talons Of Treachery

The following morning, Dorian did not go outside the Horn to receive Trik's daily sending. Instead, the members of the Nessian Knot spent most of the rest of the day traveling cross-country back to Farholde. They arrived near dusk and made their way to the Auld'Irey district, where they quickly staked out a location in a narrow alley just across from the Auld Briarhall inn. At Tardaesha's command, Knick-Knack flickered out of sight and then darted across the street where he waited patiently for the next patron to exit the inn. When the door opened, he slipped inside unseen.

'I finds them, Mistress!' the little daemon's voice hissed into Tardaesha's mind. "They in back of big room, drinking lots and laughing lots.'
"A little victory celebration, I imagine," 'Aesha spoke aloud. 'Watch them closely, my love,' she sent her thoughts back to Knick-Knack. 'When they retire for the evening, see what rooms they enter and then report back to me.'

It was well past midnight when Knick-Knack contacted Tardaesha again.
'They go upstairs now,' he said. 'Two rooms. White-hair lady and big elf go one, twinsies go other.'
"That's our cue," Tardaesha smiled at her companions.
Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.
"They're coming," he said.
Seconds later, in a burst of sulfurous smoke, the two furies appeared in the alley behind them.
"Wait here for my signal," Dorian told them.
The eyes of the infernal sisters blazed, and they nodded solemnly.

The door to the inn opened, and a familiar white-haired woman entered from the street, accompanied by her two strange men and a dwarf.
"My lady??" the innkeep asked, confusion on his face. "Your pardon, but I could have sworn I just saw you and yours heading upstairs not ten minutes ago."
"Yes," Tardaesha smiled, her face that of Elise Zadaria's thanks to her circlet, "I had to go back out to meet my friends here. They will be staying with us awhile. By chance, could I have the spare keys to our rooms so they may come and go?"
The innkeeper eyed the strangers, then shrugged.
"As you wish, Missus," he replied, and handed over the keys.

The four of them made their way quietly up the stairs and down the hall to the room Knick-Knack had indicated belonged to Elise. They paused outside the door, and Dorian bowed his head.
'Now,' he sent his thoughts out into the street.
Within seconds there was a 'whumph' of imploding air on the other side of both doors, followed by gasps of surprise.
"The Knot Hibernal is declared broken!" the voices of the furies intoned, one from behind each door. "Cardinal Thorn has decreed that you pay the traitor's price!"
Knick-Knack, the key gripped in his prehensile tail, unlocked the door to Elise's room, and Dorian kicked it open. Kelvin stepped past him and hurled a glob of sizzling acid into the center of the room. It exploded, and Elise Zadaria screamed as much of her flesh began to dissolve beneath the caustic liquid. Tardaesha rushed into the room and drove her blade through the witch's belly, ceasing her shrill screams of agony. Elise fell to the floor, bleeding heavily but still breathing. Lemmy remedied that a moment later when his fist became a metal blade and he impaled her to the floor.

Tardaesha rushed Dostan before the giant half-elf could go for his sword. She swung her own blade with all her strength, slicing across first his chest, and then across his belly with her backswing. Her bellowed and reeled backwards, Knick-Knack driving him away from his mistress with a peppering of magic missiles. Before he could regain his balance, Lemmy stepped between the barbarian and Tardaesha, and sent a blast of metal shards ripping through him. Dostan moaned and staggered but did not go down. Blood streaming from dozens of wounds, he still managed to take one ponderous step towards his sword belt. That was when Melinoe put two flaming arrows through his heart.

Next door, in the room of the twins Trik and Trak, Tisaera fired her bow calmly and accurately at the ranger as he struggled to find cover behind a wardrobe. Three arrows took him through his thigh, shoulder and right hand.
"Please!" Trik begged, shielding his brother with his own body. "We have not broken our vows! It is the 9th that is guilty of betrayal, not us!"
"Funny," Kelvin said, stepping into the room behind the erinyes, "that's news to me."
Kelvin!" Trik shouted in desperation. "I don't know what's going on here! Elise told us that Thorn had ordered your elimination for your failures at the Horn, but then why are his furies with you? Did the witch lie??"
Kelvin just sneered.
"Either you are a liar, or a fool," he said. "Both flaws are punishable by death!"
By this time, Tisaeara had closed the distance with the twins and drawn a wicked-looking sword from her belt. Trik had managed to get to his bow, and he stepped out from behind the wardrobe to fire, but the erinyes was too close. She batted his bow aside, slashing his arm in the process, then drove the blade through his belly. The ranger groaned as his eyes fluttered closed and he slid limply to the floor. Light flashed in the room as Melinoe appeared next to her sister. Trik frantically conjured a wall of whirling multi-colored lights around the furies, attempting to blind them so that he might try to escape. They both shot him anyway. Wounded, he backed away and wove a prayer of sanctuary about him. It didn't help. The fiends saw through the ruse and continued to fire arrows into him at point-blank range until he stopped moving altogether.

By this time, the other guests had started opening their doors and peering out into the hallway.
"You'll get those noggins back inside if ya wanna keep'em!" Lemmy growled.
One-by-one, the doors hastily closed. Back in the room formerly shared by Trik and Trak, Tardaesha sent out a mental call to Oddball. A moment later, the dev appeared.
"Get the bodies outside of town," 'Aesha commanded. "We'll meet you in the forest."
"Just a moment," Melinoe said, stepping in front of the daemon.
She reached down and pulled the iron circlets from the brows of the brothers.
"Cardinal Thorn has commanded that his tokens be returned to him."
Tardaesha nodded and told Oddball to collect the others.

A short time later, after Oddball and the furies had departed, the members of the 9th knot hastily made their exit from the inn...just as a squad of city guard entered the courtyard.
"What's going on in there?" the sergeant demanded.
"Nothing," Tardaesha shrugged and smiled sweetly. "We heard a disturbance from the back alley and we were just on our way to investigate."
The watchman's eyes drank in Tardaesha's attributes and he grinned lewdly at her.
"You'd best leave that sort of thing to the professionals, little lady," he said. "Don't want you getting hurt."
'Aesha batted her eyes at him demurely.
"Whatever you say, officer."
The guards hurried around the back of the inn, and once they were out of sight, the 9th Knot vanished into the night.

__________________________________________________________

Trak Rakburn was the sole survivor of the White Ravens, and it didn't take Dakota long to torture the details of Elise Zadaria's plan out of him. She was furious at being assigned to assist the 9th rather than be sent to find the Horn herself. She determined early on that it would be she who ultimately delivered the Tears of Achlys to Cardinal Thorn, and so she had bided her time, waiting for a suitable group of patsies to do her dirty work for her. She thought she had found that in the Banner Verdant. With her inside information, they would kill the Nessian Knot, and then she and the 7th would take the Horn and complete the mission. But her ambition did not end there. She hoped to continue to rise in power until she could get close the Thorn himself. Then she would destroy him and take control of the Nine Knots. When Talingarde was finally conquered, it would not be ruled by the followers of Asmodeus, but by the cult of Endless Winter, with Elise herself as the Witch Queen. Ah, the best laid plans...

______________________________________________________________

WEEK 19

"Dread Masters," Zikomo's familiar refrain sounded.
Kelvin didn't even bother to answer. He just glared malevolently at the oracle.
"A warrior has come seeking an audience," Zikomo continued, oblivious.
From behind the shaman, an obsequious boggard shuffled forward, wringing his webbed hands together.
"Me Five-Croaks," he gurgled, refusing to make eye contact with Kelvin. "Hunting bad. Tribe much suffering. Enemies of Dread Masters very dangerous. Need food. More good weapons."
"I see," Kelvin replied dryly. "And how much would these extra resources cost?"
Five-Croaks produced a rumpled piece of parchment from his belt pouch and passed it to Zikomo, who passed it to Kelvin. The mage read over it silently for a moment and then glanced up.
"Three-thousand five-hundred gold coins," he said.
Five-Croaks made no reply. He just trembled quietly. Several long moments of silence passed.
"Agreed," Kelvin said at last. "Your people will be resupplied."
Five-Croaks finally looked up, a broad grin on his grotesque face.
"However," Kelvin continued, and the boggard's face froze, "I can't just have you people traipsing up here whenever you like making expensive demands. No, that sort of thing needs to be discouraged."
He casually flicked one finger, and Five-Croaks erupted into flames. Within moments, he was reduced to ash and charred bone.
"Take him back to the tribe," Kelvin instructed Zikomo. "Let them know of the benevolence of their masters...and their wrath."

______________________________________________________________

WEEK 20

The Abbess Temperance Avigail of Saint Cynthia-Celeste grew ever more concerned. Through divinations and prayers, she had become certain that a foul ritual was happening within the Horn of Abaddon, and she was unsure if her sisters would have strength enough to stop it. She had heard no report from Inquisitor Harkon in some time, and Sister Marta was still missing, not to mention the many good people who had died in Farholde in recent weeks. She readied a dispatch to be sent by ship to Matharyn, requesting official aid from the Church of Iomedae. She only prayed that assistance would come before it was too late...

WEEK 21

News reached the Horn via the minions of the Ninth Knot that a crime wave had gripped Farholde. With the Duke gone, as well as most of the soldiers, there were not enough guardsmen to keep the peace. All proceeded according to plan.

WEEK 22

A message arrived via courier from Baron Vandermir. An associate of his, a noblewoman named Lady Shalyn Marsten, had requested a covert meeting with the members of the 9th Knot. Intrigued, Kelvin and the others agreed, and the tete-a-tete happened the following night. Lady Marsten, as it turned out, was a very savvy business-woman, and when the crime wave broke out, she saw an opportunity to eliminate several of her most bothersome rivals. She proposed an arrangement with the Nessians: see the to the quiet assassination of these individuals, and she would provide 1,000 gold coins per head. It was a generous arrangement, but Kelvin negotiated for a further twenty percent discount for the Knot in any of her business establishments, while Lemmy was able to arrange for his new and improved libation, Lemmy's Hard Lemonade, to be distributed at those same establishments. The deal was sealed in blood...

WEEk 23

Shocking news arrived from Farholde. Baron Vandermir's manor had been attacked and burned to the ground by, of all things, an enormous silver-scaled dragon! The Baron's body had not been found, and no one had seen nor heard from him since.

WEEK 25

"Are you sure about this?" Kelvin asked.
"Timeon was sure when he contacted me," Dakota smirked, "and he knows better than to mislead me."
"Knick-Knack confirmed that we will be assailed this week as well," Tardaesha added.
"Well then," Kelvin clapped his hands together, "this is cause for celebration! Sir Valin Darian, Heir to the Victor himself, is coming to us! We'd best prepare for our guests."

________________________________________________________________

For almost six months, Sir Valin Darian had been in agony. He knew in his heart and soul that something wicked was unfolding at the Horn of Abaddon, and yet his duty bound him to sit by and do nothing. Now, however, things had changed. Seven knights of the Alerion, old companions of Valin's, had recently arrived in Farholde, and finally he could bear it no longer. He had appointed his most capable lieutenant to defend the Hamarhall, and then he and his knights had ridden out for the Horn. They would trample whatever foulness had accumulated there, no matter what.

Their plan really had not evolved beyond that, and when the knights arrived at the Horn, they simply rode their steeds up the steep trail to the opening that led into the first level of the mountain. Unfortunately for them, they did not hear the silent alarm they tripped that alerted Kelvin of their arrival. By the time they reached the first major intersection of the winding corridors, they found the way blocked by Artephius. The rest of the Nessian Knot was arrayed behind him.
"Surrender!" Valin called as he reined his stallion to a rearing halt.
"You mean to surrender to us?" Kelvin called back. "Very well then. We accept!"
"This is your only chance," Valin growled. "Renounce your black vows and return with us to await judgment!"
In response, Lemmy hurled a blast of metal and stone towards the knight commander. As if born to the saddle, Valin wheeled his steed Marquesa to one side, pressing her body up against one wall as the barrage passed harmlessly by.
"You'll have to do better than that, foul miscreant!" Valin called, laughing.
"Artephius," Dorian said flatly. "Kill them all, but spare the leader."
"By your command," the golem intoned.
He cocked back one arm and flung a crackling bomb of electricity towards the knights. It missed the bulk of them, but when it hit the wall behind them, tendrils of current splashed on several of them and their mounts, causing the horses to squeal in pain and panic. A moment later, Marquesa whinnied shrilly and bucked beneath Valin. Struggling to get her under control, he looked down and saw a black-fletched arrow protruding from her flank. He looked up with hatred in his eyes and saw a darkly beautiful blonde woman kneeling with a bow in her hands. She blew him a sultry kiss.

Sir Valin had had enough. He lowered his lance and urged Marquesa into a gallop. He'd covered half the distance to the Asmodeans when suddenly he felt his mount shudder beneath him as her front hooves splayed out wide and her back legs slipped out from under her, sitting her haunches hard upon the ground. Valin looked down and saw the flagstones all around were coated in a layer of thick, black grease.
"Halt!" he called over his shoulder to the knights, who were preparing to follow his charge.
"Flanking maneuver!" he commanded.
The knights wheeled their horses about and began trotting down a side passage, looking for a path around to approach their enemies from the rear. Before Valin could turn back towards the devil-worshipers, Marquesa squealed in pain again. When he turned, he saw the last flicker of a what looked like a flight of fiery missiles strike his trusty steed. Floating in the air no more than a dozen feet away was a grinning ball of what looked like nothing but gnashing teeth. A woman was also moving quickly towards him, the identical twin of the one who'd shot Marquesa. She stepped nimbly across the greased floor and had closed to him before he was able to drop his lance and ready his shield. Tardaesha struck the knight commander, calling upon Asmodeus' vengeance to smite him. Sir Valin was nearly thrown from his saddle by the impact of the blow.

The knights of the Alerion rounded a far corner of the narrow hallway, and then the lead rider drew his horse up sharply. A lone figure stood at the far end of the passage, electricity crackling around his upraised hands.
"Fall back!" the knight shouted, but it was already too late.
Kelvin released the magic and the lightning ball hurtled down the corridor, detonating with an ear-splitting explosion as it struck the knights. Men wailed and horses screamed as electricity coursed through them, and when its light flared then extinguished, it left only smoking corpses in its wake.

As Sir Valin struggled to regain his balance and free his sword, Marquesa reared and sank her teeth into Tardaesha's shoulder. The anti-paladin hissed in pain and recoiled, and that's when Sir Valin brought his sword down across her back...hard! Tardaesha stumbled, but still managed to bring her own blade back around in a back-handed blow, landing the flat across Valin's temple. He reeled again, and then Knick-Knack sent another magic missile barrage flying at him. The knight fell backwards from the saddle and struck the floor with terrific force, where he lay stricken and unconscious.
"Now, little pony," Tardaesha snarled, turning towards Marquesa, "I've always wanted to know what horse tastes like!"


22 Gozran, 4717 - 9 Sarenith, 4717 - Five Days To Darkness

Forty-seven days. That was all the time remaining until the ritual to recall Vetra-Kali would be complete. At Kelvin's urging, and much to Dakota's displeasure, the Nessian Knot decided they were not going to take any more chances with invaders disrupting the proceedings. The best solution seemed to be to barricade themselves, along with all of their servants and minions, on the third level of the Horn. Lemmy blasted the spiral staircase leading from the second level to rubble, while Dorian shaped the stone surrounding the archway that led to the outside balcony into one continuous piece, blocking the opening completely. They were sealed in.

A week passed. Dakota grew ever more restless. She had never been fond of staying in one place for any period of time, and the boredom and tedium threatened to turn her positively homicidal. Finally, late one night, just as she was ready to start practicing her torture skills on some of the boggards, a dull BOOM sounded from beyond the archway that Dorian had plugged.
"Trouble," Tardaesha said as she came into the entry hall.
"About time!" Dakota whooped.
"And that's not all," Kelvin replied. "An alarm just sounded from the level below us. The assault is coming from two fronts. Is Knick-Knack still in the sanctuary?"
"Yes," Tardaesha nodded. "I just told him to use the Eye of Vigilance."
She paused for a moment, head cocked as if listening.
"He says its a large creature," she said at length. "It has three heads. One looks like a green-scaled dragon, another like a lion, and the third like a metallic bull. It also has wings."
"Sounds like a gorgimera," Kelvin said solemnly. "Stupid brutes usually bent on destruction. Zikomo! Go and find Ezra!"

The boggard oracle scuttled off and then returned a few minutes later. Rising through the floor behind him came the dread wraith followed by his three lesser minions. Ezra gestured towards the wall, and the smaller wraiths drifted through it. When they emerged on the platform beyond, the hulking gorgimera drew back in alarm. As one, the trio reached out and touched the beast, and it squealed in agony as it felt its very life essence being drained away. It leaped backwards, beating its wings furiously to take to the air. After it had flown several yards away, its draconic maw gaped wide and spewed a jet of bilious fluid across the undead. Though their forms were incorporeal, the acid still burned them and they withdrew hastily back inside the Horn. Ezra's pallid face darkened in rage as he flew through the wall himself and into the night sky beyond. The gorgimera, still hovering cautiously, unsure whether or not to resume its assault on the wall, was taken by surprise. Ezra closed the distance rapidly and seized the beast by the throat of its dragon head. Already weakened, it struggled to stay aloft as its soul was rapidly siphoned. Within seconds it was no more than a withered husk which Ezra cast aside carelessly. He returned silently inside the Horn, gathered his brethren, and disappeared through the floor once more.

_______________________________________________________________

"I'm tired of waiting around," Katarina announced. "I'm going downstairs to look around for any more trouble."
"Yeah, I'm needin' to stretch my legs too," Lemmy growled, rising to follow her.
"The whole point of this was to stay together so we couldn't be picked off," Kelvin objected.
"Scar and I will go with them," Roger said, patting the big tiger affectionately. "We won't be long, and we'll contact Hexor if we run into any trouble."
The four of them went to the teleportation circle and promptly vanished.

Ten minutes later, Knick-Knack's voice piped up in Tardaesha's head.
'Mistress!' he said excitedly. 'I sees something! Little floating lights! They invisible! Moving closer to friends down below!'
"Trouble," Tardaesha told the others. "Dakota, Oddball, with me! Kelvin, have Hexor warn Roger. Something's stalking them!"

_____________________________________________________________

"That was Hexor," Roger said, bringing his companions to a halt. "We're not alone down here."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a flash of light sizzled out of the darkness, and a jarring bolt of energy struck him, coruscating across his armor in electric tendrils. Katarina whirled and saw that they were surrounded by four bobbing globes of eerie, green light. She whipped a dagger from her belt and hurled it at one of the orbs, not really expecting much. To her surprise, the knife stuck in the light as if it had hit a solid object, and she heard a high-pitched keening cry of pain. Roger managed to pull himself together and stop jittering long enough to channel the power of Asmodeus through his holy symbol, sending out a wave of dark magic that washed over all of the wytch lights. They all trembled and shrilled as the energy struck them.
"Hands off my boyfriend!" came a cry from the darkness, followed by a volley of arrows.
Two black-feathered shafts impaled one of the lights and it promptly dimmed then vanished. Dakota stepped out of the shadows, closely followed by Tardaesha. The three remaining orbs were undeterred. As one they unleashed electric jolts into Roger, and he danced like a puppet on a string. Almost by reflex, he channeled again, and the creatures recoiled once more. Then Kat leaped at one and drove another of her knives into it, causing it to wink out of existence. Dakota brought her bow up fired two arrows into each of the last pair, destroying them as well.

_________________________________________________________________

Despite the two simultaneous and seemingly random attacks, the next month at the Horn passed quietly. Dorian inferred that the gorgimera and the will-o-wisps had been drawn to the mountain by the ever-increasing power emanating from it as the ritual neared its climax. Whatever the case, whether there were no more monsters in the area or whether they were too afraid, there were no more attacks.

During that interval, Katarina decided to pay a visit to Farholde. She wanted to touch base with the Ninth's contacts in the city and see if there was any information worth following up on. Her informants were able to tell her that the rumor in the underworld was that the dragon that had destroyed Baron Vandermir's mansion may have spent some time in the city disguised as a human. In this way it may have uncovered the Baron's involvement with events at the Horn. Kat also heard that the disappearance of Sir Valin had served to discourage any further concerted attempt to the assault the Horn.

_________________________________________________________________

Five days before the end of the ritual, the temple was wracked by a tremendous earthquake. The ground itself seemed to rebel against the blasphemy being perpetrated in the Sanctum. Within the Sanctum there was a horrific ear-splitting scream, and for a moment a shadowy apparition manifested over the silver seal. It reached out six clawed hands and grasped at the seal, scratching and clawing. The seal was gouged and marred, and the echo of unholy laughter was heard as the apparition faded away. Vetra-Kali was close at hand.

Throughout the upper levels of the Horn, stone and masonry collapsed, and many boggards, as well as Zikomo, Oddball and Lemmy's hell hounds were injured by the debris. The entire west wing of Lemmy's Death's Head Tavern broke off and fell down the side of the mountain. On the first level of the Horn, the basin of the great fountain cracked, spilling hundreds of gallons of water throughout the courtyard. On the second level, several rooms collapsed completely, making them inaccessible and ruining several of the pit traps the Ninth had so painstakingly restored. The third level also suffered severe structural damage, with several archways and internal walls collapsing. In one chamber an entire exterior wall caved in and fell to the valley below, creating a new entrance into the Horn. Finally, in the cell block, all of the cell doors sprang open in unison, releasing Sir Valin, one of his Alerion knights, and Trak Rackborn. Fortunately, they all remained shackled.

"Kill them," Kelvin said, indicating Trak and the knight. "Nothing and no one is going to interfere with the completion of this ritual! Zikomo, have your warriors bring Sir Valin to the Sanctum, then assemble all of your people there. It's going to be our home for the next five days."
The boggards rushed to comply, while Tardaesha and Dakota calmly and efficiently slit the throats of the two prisoners. Once all the members of the 9th Knot and their minions had gone up the spiral staircase to the Sanctum above, Kelvin ordered Hexor to remain below. The daemon would serve as rear guard and early warning system.

____________________________________________________________

Midnight. All of the torches inside the Horn momentarily flickered, while outside, the green fire that surrounded the mountain briefly sputtered. Roger straightened from where he'd been leaning against a wall passing the time of his watch shift. He sensed something. A flash of white light suddenly burst in the air at the center of the Sanctum. When it cleared, a figure hovered there. Great feathers swept back from the fierce bird-man's brow, and long, clawed hands grew from the end of his wings.
"You have come to the wrong place, agathion!" Roger's voice boomed as he drew his blade. "The light of Iomedae does not shine here! Leave now while you still can!"
For a moment the avoral's features grew uncertain, but then his eyes went steely once more. He spread his wings wide and shrieked like a raptor diving at its prey. Many of the boggards quailed at the sound and scuttled for the spiral stairs. Even Katarina looked shaken, her mouth slack and her eyes wide. Then Ezra Thrice-Damned rose from the floor like liquid shadow. The angel did not falter. Instead he thrust one finger towards the wraith and a salvo of pure white force missiles slammed into Ezra. He howled inhumanly and recoiled.
"I am Brastius Star-Feather!" the avoral cried. "The evil you do here has not gone unnoticed! I am but the first to arrive, but I shall make certain that your foulness does not spread!"

By this time, Ezra's spawn had joined their master, and one of them flew towards the celestial. It reached out and grabbed Brastius' wrist. Hissing at the vileness, Brastius jerked his arm away, glaring at the black handprint burned into his flesh. A moment later unholy power washed over him as Roger channeled Asmodeus' power. Brastius folded his wings around his body and abruptly vanished, only to reappear a second later beside the altar of Vetra-Kali. Knick-Knack, who'd been cowering behind the shrine, shrieked and started to fly away, but the avoral raked him with his talon-like claws. The little cacodaemon wailed and flew drunkenly into a wall, bounced off and fell to the floor stunned. Brastius turned back to the shrine, and came face-to-face with Kelvin.
"It won't be that easy," the wizard smiled, snapping his fingers and erecting an emergency sphere of force about himself and Sir Valin, who was chained to the altar.
Alas, Kelvin's mistake was in thinking that the knight was Brastius's target. Instead the avoral calmly reached out and plucked one of Vetra-Kali's eyes from its socket in the statue. Then he tapped it against the force shield and smiled grimly back at Kelvin.

Brastius began to move away from the altar, but then a pair of Ezra's wraiths emerged from the floor beneath him and grabbed at his legs. He looked down in surprise, and that's when Vexor charged into him, head down, and bowled him backwards into the shrine, threatening to overturn the massive statue. Brastius struggled to disentangle himself from the big daemon, only to find all three of the smaller wraiths surrounding him and reaching for him, their touch deathly cold. An arrow took the avoral through one shoulder as Dakota's bow twanged, and then a metallic hand wrapped around his neck from behind when Artephius moved in close. As his airway threatened to collapse, Brastius gathered his breath to cast one last spell to open a dimensional portal allowing him to escape. He never got the chance. Lemmy blasted a whole clean through his chest with fist-sized chunks of earth and stone.

___________________________________________________________________

Deep within the catacombs of the Horn, the uncontrolled magic that continued to build high above in the Sanctum permeated and saturated a long-simmering pool of mud. Suddenly the morass exploded upwards in a great geyser, coalescing into a massive, semi-humanoid form. The newly-created elemental gazed around its new environment for a moment, and then looked up towards the ceiling. Somewhere above it could sense powerful energy. It could feed on such energy and grow even stronger. It sank its tendrils into the loose sand at its feet and began to glide through it as easy as if were water, searching for a way out.

___________________________________________________________

"From now on, unless they are in use, I'm keeping these with me," Kelvin said, pocketing the three eyes of Vetra-Kali."
"Do you think it's wise for one person to have all three?" Roger asked.
Kelvin turned, starting to respond when a massive pounding sounded from across the Sanctum on the other side of the wall Dorian had created to block ingress from the outside. A moment later the wall simply imploded, and clinging to the side of the mountain outside was what appeared to be a huge humanoid creature made entirely of mud.

Ezra and his wraiths reacted in an instant, but as they approached the breach, the first rays of down broke over the horizon. The undead creatures immediately shrank back into the shadows, afraid of the killing light.
"Artephius! Kill!" Dorian commanded his automaton.
The golem lurched to life and plucked a glowing ball of electricity from its belly. Cocking one hand back, it hurled the bomb right into the center of the viscous elemental. As it exploded, both Knick-Knack and Kelvin loosed a fusillade of magic missiles into the elemental as well. It roared and pitched forward into the Sanctum, but as it struggled to regain its bearings, Ezra pounced. The dread wraith latched onto the creature and did not let go until it was a withered husk that crumbled away into dust.


THE LAST PRAYER - 9 Sarenith, 4717 - 14 Sarenith, 4717

Sunset, day 218 of the ritual.

"Well I'll be damned," Kelvin murmured from where he stood near the altar, peering into the Eye of Vigilance.
"Eventually," Tardaesha smiled, "as will the rest of us, I'm sure."
Kelvin ignored her.
"It seems we have a visitor down at the lower entrance," he said. "Send Oddball down to fetch him, won't you sister?"
Tardaesha looked confused and slightly annoyed, but still snapped her fingers at her minion.
"Go," she sniped. "See who's there and bring them back up here. Don't dawdle!"

Less than a minute later Oddball returned, a filthy and thoroughly disheveled individual by his side. The figure looked up, his eyes bloodshot. His hair was long and straggly, and his beard looked as if it had not been trimmed in weeks. His clothing, though perhaps once fine, now hung in ragged tatters about his thin frame.
"You!" He pointed one boney finger at Kelvin. "This is all your fault!"
Kelvin blinked, uncertainty on his face. That voice was...familiar.
"Baron?" He said. "Is that you?"
"Of course it's me!" Baron Vandermir spat. "Though I'm sure you're surprised to see me! You likely thought me dead!"
"As a matter of fact," Kelvin shrugged. "That tends to happen when one's home is demolished by a dragon."
"A dragon who's wrath you brought down upon me!" Vandermir shrieked.
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Kelvin asked cooly.
"With...this!" The Baron threw up his hands and turned about, indicating the Sanctum and the Horn itself. "All of this! I warned you, didn't I? I told you to be discreet lest you attract undue attention! But no! That is not your way, is it? Everything must be so dramatic! It was only a matter of time before the Iomedaens linked me to you!"
Lemmy pointed a finger directly into Vandermir's face.
"You got a smart mouth!" He growled. "You talk too much. Loose lips sink ships and all that. I say we just kill you now and tie up any odds and ends."
Vandermir blanched and took an involuntary step backwards.
"Now Lemmy," Dakota chided, "look at the poor man. He's desperate. The least we can do is offer him sanctuary. He might still have his uses."
"I tend to agree," Kelvin said. "But know this, Baron: your plight is of your own making. You knew full well what you were getting into. I'll hear no more of it if you plan on remaining here. The Ritual is nearly at an end. After it's conclusion we will be out of your hair and about our business."
Vandermir was silent and glowering for a moment.
"Fine," he said at length. "You have my gratitude for your...hospitality."
He bowed slightly then turned stiffly and walked away.

________________________________________________________________

Vetra-Kali was not the only being barred from entering the world. The powerful magic of the ritual could be useful to liberate any number of others banned from the light. On midnight of the 219th day of the ritual, from the corners of reality, six minions of just such a creature emerged into the Sanctum. They did not come to save Talingarde, but instead to slay anyone involved in conjuring the transdimensional rift, and then see that when the portal opened, it was not Vetra-Kali who emerged, but their own dark master, trapped in the black spaces between the stars for eons.

The creatures were gaunt, long-limbed quadrupeds with huge, soulless eyes and toothy maws, and they moved with a predatory grace as they stepped from the shadows of the corners of the Sanctum. One of them opened its jaws wide and exhaled a cloud of dense fog which enveloped the altar. Two more of them locked eyes on Hexor and Oddball, and then thin green rays lanced from them, surrounding the two daemons in an emerald shimmer. Instinctively they knew that their dimension-hopping abilities had been neutralized.

The members of the 9th Knot and their minions, though taken by surprise, did not hesitate to leap to the defense of the Sanctum. The other-dimensional hounds, however, where not so easy to engage. Seemingly at will, they would retreat into a corner of the chamber and disappear, only to reappear an instant later from another corner. Even when engaged directly, their milky-eyed gaze would literally rip the flesh from their assailants. The hounds steadily advanced towards the altar, but Kelvin managed to erect a force shield around it, wary since the avoral's assault. By a process of attrition and overwhelming numbers, however, the creatures were taken down one by one. They did not go quietly, nor without taking their own toll. As Kelvin looked about the chamber in the aftermath, he saw no less than six boggards lying dead on the floor, as well as one of Lemmy's three hellhounds. And there were still four days to go...

____________________________________________________________

The following morning the dragon attacked...

Argossarian was a young, idealistic silver dragon who had long dwelt in the north, hunting monsters and bugbears. For decades he had been a self-appointed champion of nobility and virtue. His shadow was the last thing that countless bugbears and bandits had seen. In recent times, however, had had been troubled by what he had heard from his agents in the south. The flash of green light from the long-forsaken Horn of Abaddon had been the last straw. He had immediately set out for Farholde, but when he had arrived he could never have imagined how bad things had gotten. The city was gripped by fear. Would-be heroes were dying with their throats cut. Anyone who had dared to venture to the Horn had never come back. Argossarian knew there had to be a connection in town, and for months he had secretly searched for it. He finally thought he'd found the answer in Baron Arkov Vandermir. Imagine his surprise when, while ransacking the Baron's ruined manor, he had discovered the man's journal.
"What are they doing out there?" the journal had read. "Can they really be rebuilding the Sons of the Pale Horseman? Are they really that mad?"
Argossarian was horrified.

The silver dragon was 80 years old, born in the year of the Victor's raid upon the Horn. His mother, the mighty wyrm Antharia Regina, had weaned him on tales of the Sons' wickedness and the Victor's heroics. Could it really be that some fragment of their cult had survived and was struggling to return the daemon prince Vetra-Kali Eats-The-Eyes to reality? Argossarian knew that his moment had come. He would attack the Horn of Abaddon. He did not know what he would find there, but whatever dwelt in that cursed place he would destroy.

________________________________________________________________

The exterior wall of the Sanctum exploded inward behind the force of Argossarian's tail.
"Defend the altar!" Kelvin shouted as he hurled a fireball through the hole.
The spell exploded, engulfing the mighty dragon, but as the flames dissipated, Argossarian was unscathed, his innate resistance to magic sloughing off the attack.
"Stop him!" Kelvin commanded Hexor and Vexor.
The twin daemons rushed towards the opening, closely followed by Lemmy's hounds. As they reached the hole, however, the dragon exhaled a cloying cloud of green vapor over them. It seemed to have no visible effect on the daemons, but one of the hellhounds keeled over, paralyzed. Enraged, Argossarian landed heavily on the lip of the opening, driving Hexor and Vexor back. He felt a sudden sharp stab of pain as Dakota put an arrow in his shoulder, but with a snarl he ripped the shaft out with his teeth. When he turned back towards the den of evil, he saw a single individual approaching fast. It was a dark-haired human woman sheathed in armor from head to toe. She clutched a glowing sword in one hand while the other gripped a pentacle medallion that hung from her neck. Argossarian reared up and prepared to rip her apart limb from limb, but the woman was a split-second faster. Tardaesha darted inside the dragon's reach and thrust her blade upwards with all her might, summoning the power of Asmodeus to smite her foe down. The dragon screamed in agony as black fire exploded around him. Tardaesha withdrew her blade and then slashed twice more in diagonal sweeps, opening up horrible wounds in the silver-scaled hide. Argossarian was in shock. He'd never endured such agony, and he realized with horrible certainty that he was about to die. How could this have happened? How could he have so terribly underestimated these foes? Worst of all, what would happen now that he would no longer be able to protect the world from them? These were his last thoughts as he tumbled backwards out of the hole and plummeted towards the base of the Horn.
Tardaesha turned, wiping her blade on her tabard.
"Knick-Knack," the said calmly, "be a dear and go collect that dragon's soul for me, would you?"

______________________________________________________________

Day 221 - Sunset Ritual

"Dread Masters," Zikomo's familiar refrain called out.
"This is not a good time!" Kelvin growled from where he stood before the altar watching Dorian perform the evening prayers.
"This is...important," Zikomo persisted.
Tardaesha, who'd been standing beside Kelvin, turned towards the oracle. That was when she noticed that behind Zikomo stood the entirety of the Bane-Wog tribe.
"I have learned there may be traitors among you," Zikomo said.
"What?" Tardaesha asked, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Who would betray us?"
"What do the Dread Masters plan to do with the Horn when the ritual is complete?" Zikomo asked, ignoring Tardaesha's question.
'Aesha's brow furrowed in confusion.
"What are you rambling about?" She demanded. "I don't give a rat's ass what happens to this armpit when we are done here!"
Zikomo turned to his tribesman and raised his arms over his head.
"Do you see, my children!? It is as I foretold! They care nothing for Father Dagon! They will do their heretic god's will, and then leave our home in ruins! The time has come! Our time is now! We will reclaim what is ours!"
As one, all two-dozen of the assembled boggards croaked in unison, the noise deafening in the confines of the Sanctum. So unnerving was the cacophony that many of those assembled, including Katarina, Grumblejack, Knick-Knack, Oddball, as well as Roger's tiger and Lemmy's hellhounds, were struck with terror at the sound.

"You treasonous toad!" Tardaesha shrieked.
She leaped towards Zikomo, her sword out in a flash. Before the boggard could react, the anti-paladin has slashed his throat then impaled him through the heart. He fell to the ground in a gurgling heap. Behind her, Dakota followed her twin's lead, kneeling and firing arrows into the mass of boggards at will. Dorian, still in the midst of his prayers, paused and sighed in exasperation.
"Artephius!" He commanded. "Deal with this interruption!"
"As you wish, my master," the golem bowed.
With a mechanical whine of gears, Artephius palmed a glowing orb of electricity and hurled it into the midst of the boggards. It exploded, bathing most of them in coursing current.

"Ezra?" Kelvin asked, noticing the dread wraith and his minions hovering silently at the edge of the melee.
Ezra turned towards the wizard and nodded once.
"Yes," he intoned. "You are correct. It is time. My servants and I will complete the ritual once you and yours are no more. It will be I who greets Vetra-Kali upon his return, and I who will once more serve as high priest of the Horn of Abaddon."
At a gesture from him, the lesser wraiths swarmed at the still cowering Katarina, grabbing and tearing at her with their incorporeal talons. She screamed in fear and agony, then ran shrieking from the Sanctum.
"Well this complicates things," Kelvin muttered. "Hexor, Vexor, are you still loyal?"
The daemons' eyes glowed with hatred, but with clenched jaws they both nodded.
"We are yours to command as long as you hold the amulets," Hexor said.
"Good," Kelvin nodded, "then handle those wraiths!"

Hexor opened his jaws and breathed a torrent of lightning on Ezra's minions. They scattered like leaves from the assault, while Ezra himself flew quickly towards the altar.
Kelvin saw him coming and instantaneously erected a sphere of force around the statue and the eyes. Rage blazed in Ezra's own eyes as he rounded on the wizard, but then his attention was drawn away by Tardaesha closing in from behind. He spun and thrust his hand towards the anti-paladin's chest. She pivoted just in time and it only passed through her shoulder. Still, the pain was incredible. She recoiled momentarily, but then charged in again, her blade slashing into the tattered robes of the wraith.

Lemmy was the only one holding the line against the horde of boggards. As they charged him, he manifested a ten-foot long spear of metal that impaled a half-dozen of the warriors. A moment later the entire mob was engulfed in an explosion of acid. When the spray cleared, all that was left of the Bane-Wogs were smoking and pitted bones. Lemmy looked back at Kelvin.
"I had'em!" He sneered.
"No doubt," Kelvin said, "but we'd be better served if you were dealing with the other wraiths."

Baron Vandermir watched the chaos unfolding around him from the deep shadows in a far corner of the Sanctum. Indecision tore at him as he gazed about in disbelief. Finally, he made up his mind. He dipped his hand into a pouch on his belt and scooped out a pinch of fine powder. He tossed it into the air and as it settled over him, he vanished.

Dakota drew her special arrows from her quiver, the ones she'd coated with ghost salt. As the wraiths began to swarm around Lemmy and Tardaesha, she begin letting her shafts fly. The undead screeched when the arrows pierced them as if they were flesh and blood. Then Vexor was there, breathing lightning onto the wraiths. As they fell back, Lemmy managed to impale one them with another metal spear, as well as Ezra. With a final, inhuman howl, Ezra Thrice-Damned vanished from the world forever. His remaining minions followed him shortly after on the point of Tardaesha's sword and Dakota's arrows.

Lemmy's heightened senses, acutely attuned to the ground beneath his feet, detected the slight tremor of a footstep behind him a fraction of a second too late. Vandermir reached out and touched the back of the dwarf's head, an incantation on his lips. Lemmy's thoughts grew fuzzy. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. He looked around, and found it hard to remember where he was and what he was doing there. Had there been a fight? Another footstep behind him. Reacting purely on instinct, he whirled and sent a blast of rubble at nothing, but he heard a grunt of pain from nearby. A moment later he saw a large figure closing in...Gummy Bear? Was that his name? The ogre had a big sword, and he slammed it down on the empty floor behind Lemmy. Another groan of pain. Then a voice starting chanting nearby, and Lemmy turned around. He saw a man in red robes raise his hands above his head. He felt like he should know that man, but wasn't sure if he was supposed to kill him or not. The wizard finished his spell and sparkling dust filtered down all around Lemmy. It settled on someone he hadn't seen a moment earlier...a cowering, whining little whelp of a man.
"You betrayed Asmodeus!" Vandermir cried. "You never intended to serve him! You planned on returning the Pale Horseman to power all along!"
The little man then pointed a skinny finger at the other wizard and shot rays of fire at him. The other wizard...maybe he was Lemmy's friend after all...danced back, batting frantically at his flaming robes. Nearby, a mechanical construct of some sort clanked forward. It held an orb of crackling electricity in one hand, and then it threw the ball at the whiny man. When it struck him he jerked and twitched like a marionette for a moment, and then he fell to the floor and didn't move any more.
"I find your lack of faith disturbing," another robed man said. Dory? Was that his name?
Lemmy just shrugged, reached for his belt flask and then wandered off to a corner to sip his lemonade.

____________________________________________________________

Ritual Day 222...Sunrise

The Sanctum was much quieter and far less crowded without the constant croaking of the boggards. Lemmy's mind had been restored by Dorian, and all of the corpses had been tossed out of the hole in the wall left by Argossarian. Lemmy had then set about repairing the breach. It didn't seem worth it to him, seeing as all of this nonsense would be wrapped up by midnight, but it made Kelvin feel better. He had just finished placing the last stone when a flash of light drew his attention to the center of the room.
"Now what?" He grumbled.

As the light faded, four figures stood revealed. Foremost among them was a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in full plate armor and bearing a large shield emblazoned with the symbol of Iomedae. Next to him stood an older man, tonsured, and wearing a breastplate. He held a wood shield, and around his neck hung a partially burned wooden symbol of Iomedae. Behind these two was a bald, bearded individual wearing dark robes and with a hawk perched on one shoulder. Last was a wild-haired, wild-eyed bear of a man, also wearing breastplate, and gripping a viciously serrated greatsword in both hands.
"I am Sir Richard Thomasson Havelyn," the leader announced, "son of Lord Thomas Havelyn who gave his life at the battle of Balentyne. My comrades are Brother Carthus Donnagin, brother to Father Althus Donnagin, Erik "the Falconer" Varning, cousin of Captain Ryan Varning, and Meinhard Mott, brother of Captain Franz Mott."
"That's Mad Meinhard to you curs!" the big man growled.
"We are the Sons of Balentyne!" Sir Richard shouted. "It was I who exposed the assassination attempt against King Markadian, and from those would-be murderers I learned of the nefarious plot against Balentyne! Alas that I arrived too late to save my father! Still, my journey was not in vain. It was not difficult to follow your trail of murder to Farholde, and it didn't take much more effort to learn of your plan to return the daemon Vetra-Kali from exile, though I cannot guess as to why worshipers of Asmodeus would do such a thing. Furthermore, I do not care. All that is important is that we shall stop you from completing your foul ritual, and avenge or kinsmen in the process!"

No one spoke for several moments, nor was any other sound heard save for the low growling of Lemmy's hounds. Then, with deliberate slowness and intent, Dakota raised her bow and put two arrows into Erik Varning's chest. The wizard looked down for a moment in disbelief, but before he could do more than gawp at his predicament, Dorian hurled a fireball into the midst of the Sons. No sooner had it detonated than Kelvin followed it up with an explosive ball of razor-sharp ice shards, and then Lemmy's pets added their fire breath to the mix. When the smoke and mist cleared, Varning lay unconscious on the floor. A moment later Sir Richard went down beneath Artephius' bombs, and Mad Meinhardt followed when Lemmy pulverized his skull with a kinetic blast of fist-sized rocks. Only Brother Donnagin remained. He stood stupefied and reeling from his many wounds, staring about him in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but that's when Scar seized him from behind by the neck. The dire tiger shook the old priest like a rag doll until he was no longer moving, then carried his meal somewhere he could enjoy it in peace.

"Poor fools," Roger said, shaking his head. "To come all this way just to die. So much for vengeance."
That was when Sir Richard's body simply vanished.

__________________________________________________________

Midnight

Sir Valin Darian's corpse still lay upon the altar where Dorian had performed the final sacrifice during the Call Across the Void at sunset. All the members of the Ninth Knot stood gathered around the silver seal, silent and expectant. Without warning, the seal abruptly shattered, spraying the companions with shards of silver that burned their skin like molten lava. In its place was a swirling gateway into eternal night. From somewhere within the portal echoed a familiar voice, as alien and malevolent as ever.
"I am," it said, and then Vetra-Kali himself emerged.

He was a black-winged nightmare, tall and gaunt, looming over the mortals before him. His legs bent backwards like those of a goat, ending in cloven hooves. Six arms sprouted from his pale torso, three of them gripping wicked daggers that dripped with corruption. His head was skull-like, topped by a singe crooked horn, and three eyeless sockets stared out at nothing.
"My eyes," the daemon cried. "Where are my eyes?"
"We have them," Tardaesha answered.
"Give them to me!" Vetra-Kali screeched.
"We shall," replied the anti-paladin, "but first you must swear not to harm any worshiper of Asmodeus present."
Vetra-Kali growled and snarled for a moment, but then nodded his head.
Tardaesha carefully placed the Eye of Vigilance in the daemon's outstretched hand. Vetra-Kali popped the gem into his mouth, and a moment later it appeared, glowing green with malevolence in the center socket. With an inhuman shriek, Vetra-Kali flew over the heads of the companions and landed like a bird of prey upon the back of Scar, the dire tiger.
"No!" Roger shouted, reaching for his blade.
It took both Dakota and Lemmy to restrain him as the daemon prince ripped out the tiger's throat and bathed himself in Scar's blood.
"You did that on purpose!" Roger snarled at Tardaesha.
She stood open-mouthed, realizing the error of her wording.
"I...I didn't," she stammered.
"I won't forget this!" Roger hissed.
"It is good," Vetra-Kali cawed in his high-pitched carrion-bird voice, "to be home!"
He turned back towards the others and stalked forward, casually reaching out to snap the necks of both of Lemmy's remaining two hellhounds as he came. It was Roger's turn to hold back the dwarf.
"For the second of your eyes," Kelvin said, holding up the Eye of Hatred, "we require the Tears of Achlys."
"My gift to the world?" Vetra-Kali cocked his head. "You wish it? Do you swear that you will see it dispersed among the mortals?"
"That is our plan," Kelvin nodded.
Vetra-Kali cackled in delight, and then opened one hand. In its palm was a crystal vial of deep ebony. Kelvin took it cautiously, reverently, while simultaneously handing over the second eye. Vetra-Kali consumed it as well, and then his right eye socket illuminated.
"For the last eye," Dorian said, displaying the Withering Eye, "we demand that you make those of us in this room immune to the Tears."
The daemon considered for a moment, and then nodded.
"Granted," he said.
Dorian gave over the eye for Vetra-Kali to consume. With all three sockets glowing, he turned to regard the silent forms of Hexor and Vexor.
"Return to me the true names of my minions," Vetra-Kali said quietly.
"No!" Dakota snapped. "They are ours to command. That wasn't part of the bargain."
"Very well," Vetra-kali smiled.
He turned to the ceustodaemons and opened his mouth. A cloud of corpse-bloated, biting back flies emerged, swarming around the pair. They screamed, flailing about as the insects burrowed into their flesh. As they struggled, Vetra-Kali rushed at them and slashed each of their throats with his knives.
"I believe our dealings have come to and end," he said to the companions.


TEARS OF THE BLESSED

14 Sarenith, 4717 - 20 Erastus, 4717

When the members of the Ninth Knot stepped out of the Horn of Abaddon for the last time, Tiadora was waiting for them.
"Well done, my lords," she said without any trace of her usual sarcastic wit.
She held out her hand and gave Kelvin a heavy pouch in turn. He opened it and saw that it was full of emeralds.
"The master sends his regards," she said. "Your work here in Farholde is done. You must make your way to the great city of Ghastenhall. There you will meet a fellow who will know how best to use the terrible weapon you hold in your hands. This letter gives the details."
She passed over a folded and sealed parchement, then without another word she vanished. Kelvin used his thumbnail to break the seal and read aloud.

"To My Ninth," it began. "Since that day you arrived filthy and famished upon my doorstep, I have always seen within you great potential. And today you prove me correct once more. You have the Daemon's Gift! I could not be more pleased. You have in your possession a terrible weapon and now, we must see it used. Get thee to Ghastenhall with all haste. Therein seek Barnabus Thrain, master of the Stygian Knot. He awaits you in the library of Ghastenhall. Ask him whom he serves. He will answer, 'only knowledge.' Yes, he is a priest of Iomedae, but fear not...he has seen the power of our cause. Into Thrane's hand deliver the Gift. He has agents who will see that the Tears are delivered to where it may do you the most good. He will have something for you as well...a token of my esteem. Then I command you; wait in Ghastenhall, avoiding the eyes of our enemies. You will have one month to rest and regain your strength's full measure. Use it well. Prepare yourself for your next mission, for it shall be they greatest test yet. The Tears of Achylys is a scalpel, my Ninth, and with it we will cut the hated Iomedaen faith from the heart of Talingarde. When the month is past, Tiadora will fetch you and bring you to audience with the Fire-Axe. He will give you the kernel of an army. Build upon it! Recruit any who can aid you, and once your army is ready, with the first gale of winter...you march to the Vale of Valtaerna, the most holy site in all Talingarde. They will not expect a winter assault. Break the Watchtower of Saintsbridge, invade the Vale and during winter's merciless heart, destroy everyone in that sacred place. Leave no witness, making it look like a bugbear raid. Violate the holy heart of the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest and leave not a single soul alive. By the time winter is ended, the Tears will be well spread across Talingarde. The people, desperate for respite, will run to the simpering Iomedaens, begging for relief. And they will find in your wake only death and ashes, my Ninth. Do all as I command and the time of our victory draws ever nearer. Commit my commands to heart and then burn this letter. Thorn"

_______________________________________________________________

Before they actually departed the Caer Bryr and Farholde, Tardaesha sent Knick-Knack to fetch Timeon from Hamarhall. Then, over the course of two days, Kelvin teleported the entire retinue to Ghastenhall, the ancestral home of the Dannisters. The city sat upon one of the most prominent natural features of Talingarde, the great Godscar River. The river divided the country in twain, running from Cambrian Bay to the northern sea. The Godscar was the life blood of Ghastenhall, routinely a mile across and at times as many as five. It teemed with fish and sea life, and the scrapers, as the freshwater fishermen were known, headed out every morning in their little boats and cast their nets out into the thriving lake, their hauls filling ten-thousand cooking pots throughout the city.

Ghastenhall had known many masters throughout the years, and its coat of arms told that tale. In the center was the Iomedaen sun, and in the upper left quarter was the Darian blue and white, while in the upper right was the Barcan Griffon. The red and green of the background were colors used by the old Iraen tribesmen who once owned the isle before the Talireans came. Ghastenhall claimed to be the oldest city in Talingarde, and as such its folk tended to take the long view on politics and power struggles. Maybe House Darius and the Iomedaens would reign for a hundred more years. Who could say? But would they reign forever? Certainly not. What did it matter what colors the kingdom flew? Any regime would need their port and river.

Once the companions were all gathered, the others noted that there was a newcomer amongst them. Oddball was nowhere to be seen. Instead, another creature stood next to Tardaesha. Silken robes draped the androgynous fiend’s form, providing only an outline of the body beneath. Claw-tipped tentacles emerged from the cuffs, clutching wands and soul gems, while below its robe’s margins, its multiple-jointed legs—almost like a reptilian insect’s—ended in clawed, three-toed chitinous feet. Its face remained perpetually covered by a dark veil, and a trio of long, forked tongues periodically emerged from its rounded mouth and tasted the air around its thin lips.
"This is Dr. Know," Tardaesha said by way of introduction. "He will be serving me in Oddball's place."
The companions simply took this in stride. Dorian instructed Artephius and Grumblejack to remain in the wilds until summoned, and then they set off for the great city.

___________________________________________________________________

The Library of Ghaster was the great repository of knowledge long sponsored by the dukes of Ghastenhall. Inside was the single greatest collection of books, tomes and scrolls in all of Talingarde. The members of the Nessian Knot entered, variously disguised as nondescript citizens. Knick-Knack and Dr. Know trailed along behind, invisibly. Finding Barnabus Thrane was not difficult, as apparently he was a fixture among the stacks. He was an older man dressed in the blue robes of an Iomedaen priest, and he prominently displayed a silver and sapphire holy symbol, marking him as an important member of the clergy. His eyes, however, betrayed a wild intensity. Kelvin approached him casually.
"Whom do you serve, Brother?" he asked quietly.
Thrane nodded to him. "Only knowledge," he replied. "If you are interested in seeking knowledge, perhaps you could join me for a symposium tomorrow evening in the basement lecture hall."
Without another word, he turned and departed.
"Well that was...not helpful," Dakota snorted.
"Thorn's servants do enjoy their little intrigues," Kelvin sighed. "I suppose we find rooms for the night and come back tomorrow."

___________________________________________________________

The following evening the companions found Brother Thrane waiting for them in a disused lecture hall beneath the library. He was not alone. A few rather brutish-looking young men stood behind him.
"We are not to be disturbed," he told his guards. "This symposium is invitation only."
They nodded and departed. Thrane then turned his attention to his guests.
"I am the Fifth," he said. "And you are?"
"We are the Ninth," Kelvin replied. "I am Kelvin Dannister, and these are my siblings, Tardaesha, Dakota, Dorian and Katarina. These other two gentlemen are our compatriots, Roger Renfield and Lemmy Killmister."
"Charmed," Lemmy grumbled.
"Welcome to Ghastenhall," Thrane nodded. "You are expected. Word has already reached me of your great triumphs. I presume you have something for me."
Dorian did not hesitate. He drew out the Tears from his robe and handed it to the old priest.
"And behold, a pale horse and hell followed with them," Thrane shuddered. "I will do what is asked of me, but I say now that I am filled with dread of this errand. Once unleashed, I am uncertain how easy it will be to put aside the Daemon's gift."
He tucked the flask beneath his cassock.
"For now the Tears must wait. The time is not yet right to use this weapon against our enemies. I am told you will be staying in our fair city for awhile. Towards that end, I have already arranged for a small villa in the Lord's Quarter...the Crowley Estate. It is stocked and well supplied for a month's stay. There are servants, so your stay will be comfortable. My name is not attached to the place, so I care not what you do there. I will continue my duties as a keeper of the Library of Ghaster, and should you require any assistance you have but to seek me out. We will not meet openly in the Library. Instead, contact me and I will arrange a suitable place. There is one more thing: in exchange for the Tears I was commanded to give you these."
He produced a small bag of black jewels and handed one to each of the companions.
"Each of you has an iron circlet, yes?"
He produced his own with a black jewel already inset.
"Merely place the jewel in the center and the crown will be strengthened. It is a gift of Thorn's esteem."
Each of the companions did so and then replaced the circlets upon their heads. Instantly their eyes widened as they realized the nature of Thorn's gift. Their thoughts became more clear, sharper. New revelations came to them rapid fire. Thrane murmured his approval.
"If there is nothing else...," he began.
"Where are the other members of your knot?" Roger asked before he could depart.
"The Fifth Knot has only one true member," Thrane replied. "Me. The rest are dupes and fools. They know nothing of their true master. This is as it should be."
"Fair enough," Dakota said. "So what is there to do in this town for the next month?"
"You need do nothing," Thrane said. "If you crave intellectual pursuits, the Library is a great repository of knowledge. It is the one thing that the Iomedaens have arguably done well. Although, even in this they are blind. They censor every tome that questions the supremacy of their goddess."
"Books aren't really my thing," Dakota smiled. "Anything else worth doing?"
"The Grand Market is in three days," Thrane replied impatiently. "There are always many interesting and unusual goods for sale there."
"I was hoping for something more...exciting...," Dak pressed.
"Then perhaps you should seek out the Red Quarter," Thrane sighed. "There you will find the violent raptures of our Father. The Red Quarter has always been a crime-ridden neighborhood festooned with brothels and purveyors of pleasures of the flesh. Ghastenhall is a bustling port city after all, but with the attention of the lords drawn by the war, it's grown unruly. There's even an illegal pit fighting arena. Perhaps one as imposing as you could have a bit of fun. If you find this interesting, you should speak with Martigan Vex at the Golden Palace. Mister Vex they call him. He runs the place. He manages these matters. Now, I really must be...,"
"Hey, do you know anything about this ring?" Tardaesha asked abruptly.
She brought out the small, silver ring they had found in the Horn's trophy hall. Thrane snatched it from her hand with irritation. When he looked at it, however, his mouth dropped open.
"Ha!" he laughed. "Where did you find this? This could very well be the ring of the legendary lost Princess Iris. She vanished a century ago. With that ring you could doubtless get an audience with the Duke. If you find the Princess' bones, then by city law the Duke would have to do you one favor. It's an old, ridiculous law created by decree of Iris' grief-stricken father after her disappearance. Of course, you'd need a hundred year-old skeleton of a half-elven maiden to earn that, but clever folk such as you might be able to dig one up. Now if there really is nothing else...,"
"What will you do with the Tears?" Dorian interrupted.
"Thrane's eyes narrowed. "When the time is right, I will make sure it is spread far and wide. Agents are prepared to see this work done."
He paused, looking around to see who would be the next to waste more of his time.
"Last thing," Tardaesha grinned. "Promise."
She took a small pouch from her belt and emptied several black gemstones into her palm. Deep within each of them a pale white light pulsed.
"Soul gems," Thrane said breathlessly. "How...?"
'Aesha snapped her fingers and Knick-Knack appeared.
"Ah," Thrane nodded. "I see."
"Interested?" Tardaesha asked.
"Certainly," Thrane smiled evilly, "and any more that you can supply."

_________________________________________________________________

The companions found the Crowley Estate without any problem and settled in for their month-long vigil. Dakota sent Timeon out into the city to see what he could do about recruiting new members for their underground network. In the meantime she, Lemmy and Roger sought out the fighting pit Brother Thrane had mentioned, and over the course of the following three weeks managed to amass quite a bit of gold from betting on one another against the exotic beasts of the arena.

On one particular evening, Lemmy, Roger and Katarina decided to pay a visit to the Old Barcan cemetery. Many elves and half-elves had been laid to rest there over the years, scions and loyalists of House Barca, and the trio thought that might be the best place to find a suitable skeleton to stand in for Princess Iris. The task did not prove difficult, and Lemmy used his powers of geomancy to quickly unearth the remains of a half-elven woman who had died one-hundred years ago. He was in the process of stuffing the bones into a sack when Roger placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We are not alone," the half-orc growled low.
Lemmy stood up and looked around. That's when he saw that the ground fog that surrounded them was moving. In a matter of moments a half-dozen shapes materialized from the mist. They were gaunt to the point of starvation, their eyes feral and with fang-like incisors protruding over their lips.
"The Prince requests and audience," one of them hissed.
"What prince?" Lemmy snapped.
"Hush," Kat shushed him. "Just follow them."

Every native of Ghastenhall had grown up hearing the tale of the wicked Prince Gaius who was cursed to undeath and lurked in the shadows under the city. He was the preferred bogey-man for young children, and stories about him always ended the same way...behave, keep to the good parts of the city and avoid strong drink and loose women or Prince Gaius would eat you! The patriarch of the Dannister clan was never one for such foolishness, especially since he knew the tales were one-hundred percent true. Why frighten children with falsehoods when the truth was far more terrifying? Every crime boss and gang leader in the city knew to turn a blind eye when one of the lesser members of their organizations went missing under mysterious circumstances. They even had a name for it...the blood tax. If you didn't pay your blood tax and tried to make war on old Prince Gaius, everyone knew that the next disappearance could well be you. Katarina's father had instilled in her and her siblings respect for the Prince at a very early age, and she remembered her lessons well.

The vampire spawn led the trio to a large mausoleum which bore the crest of House Vestro. Inside they pushed aside a heavy sarcophagus, revealing a set of stairs beneath it. Down there, deep beneath the cemetery, lay the throne room of Prince Gaius Vestromo, the Vampire Prince of Ghastenhall.
"You are not devotees of Iomedae," the Prince said without preamble, his voice rich and aristocratic, as was his dress, though long outdated.
"No, you Highness," Kat stepped forward and bowed. "We are followers of...,"
"Him that we do not name," the vampire raised one hand. "I am aware. Why are such as you grave-robbing in my domain. Is your desire to create lesser minions so great that you would risk joining my court permanently?"
"We are in Ghastenhall doing the work of our Father," Kat explained. "We shall not be here long before we depart for the Vale of Valtaerna."
"The sun-worshipers' holy place?" Gaius asked, eyebrows raised. "You truly do seek your own deaths."
"No, my Lord," Kat said, "just the deaths of every sun-worshiper in the Vale. That is our mission, and we will gather an army to accomplish it."
"Interesting," the Prince mused for a moment. "Perhaps you will live to see the light of another sunrise after all."
Roger tensed and Lemmy growled. Kat gave them both sharp, warning looks.
"The Iomedaens have in their possession something that belongs to me," Gaius said. "A trinket really. Little more than a bauble, but it does have sentimental value. It is kept within the vault of Saint Angelo, in the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest. In the highly unlikely event that you accomplish your goal, I should very much consider it a personal favor if you would recover this item, a black-jeweled chalice, and return it to me."
The companions glanced at one another uncertainly.
"And if we agree you will let us pass through your domain?" Kat asked.
Gaius smiled. "I will do better than that. I will send some of my minions with you on your quest. Perhaps then you might have some modicum of a chance at success."
"Your alliance would be greatly appreciated," Kat replied.
"Then we are agreed," Gaius nodded. "Let us seal that agreement with blood...,"

_______________________________________________________________

Lord Hadrian of Ghaster, the Duke of Ghastenhall, held court once a week at Castle Ghasten in the Lord's Quarter of the city. Once every few months another group of charlatans would show up claiming to have information as to the mysterious fate of Princess Iris, who had disappeared eighty years before. Hadrian would listen impatiently to their wild claims, none of which would be backed up by any credible evidence, then have them summarily dismissed from his presence. It seemed that the time had come again, as a new band of fortune-seekers had arrived on his doorstep.

"My Lord!" A beautiful, flaxen-haired wench stepped forward and bowed low. "My companions and I have traveled far and wide across this blessed land of ours, and our journeys most recently took us to the wilds of the Caer Bryr and the wicked intrigue of the Horn of Abaddon!"
This actually caught Hadrian's interest. He had heard some very disturbing stories about the Horn of late.
"Go on," he said, waving one hand. "Continue."
Dakota smiled disarmingly.
"We journeyed there seeking to root out the evil that had reawakened in the mountain, but alas we were too late. Most of the mount had been destroyed by a great earthquake, but in our search we did happen to come upon this!"
She held aloft the small ring, and the gathered courtiers all gasped in surprise.
"Bring that forward," Hadrian instructed his maester.
The old man limped down the stairs from the dais and took the ring from Dakota. He held it close to one eye for several moments, examined it from all angles, and then took it back to Hadrian, who also closely perused it.
"What else do you have?" Hadrian asked.
"Near where we found the ring, we also came upon these," Dakota said.
She motioned to Roger who stepped forward with a large sack. He emptied the bones within it upon the lower steps of the dais. The crowd gasped again, and one or two noblewomen actually swooned. The maester retrieved the bones and displayed them to the Duke. The two of them conferred for several long moments. Hadrian thought to himself that, even if these claims were false, they were some of the most innovative he'd yet seen. They smacked of enough of the truth that those witnessing could believe they were, and that would serve a greater purpose. It would mean the end to the endless parade of vagabonds demanding his time. At last he stood and spoke loudly so that his voice could be heard throughout the throne room.
"Let it be known this day," he began, "that Princess Iris has finally found her way home to us!!"
The crowd cheered and applauded wildly, with many of the ladies bursting into tears.
"These valiant adventurers shall be spoken of with renown in the annals of history," Hadrian continued, "and they shall be rewarded with ten-thousand gold crowns!!"
The news spread rapidly, and that night the members of the Ninth Knot did not have to pay for a single one of their drinks.

________________________________________________________

Kelvin decided to take Brother Thrane's advice. He had heard rumors among the locals of dark dwarves living in the mountains near Ghastenhall. He took it upon himself to dig into the matter a little deeper by doing some research at the library. When the first Talirean settlers had arrived on the island, they had discovered that there were already thriving civilizations there...the Iraen, the Yutak and the Ice Elves to name but a few. The most civilized and developed people, however, were the dwarves of the Ansgarian Mountains. The first meetings between dwarf and man were rarely cordial. The dwarves were rich with treasure and scattered in separate small mountain holds, each and independent city state. One by one, the dwarven holds fell, either by war, disease or cultural integration. The dwarven population slowly integrated into the human population, resulting in the modern day situation of the two races living side by side with largely the same culture.

There were some dwarven strongholds that did not go quietly, however. Sensing their eminent lessening and destruction, they cursed their fate and turned to old, forbidden dark gods of the earth. They pledged their loyalty to those infernal deities if only the human tide would be abated. It was those dwarves, corrupted and twisted by hatred and dark magic, who became the duergar. They fought both the invading human and dwarf armies to the last, and it seemed for awhile that they might actually prevail. But then the humans unveiled a new sort of ally. Dwarven warriors fought alongside human soldiers, and those tunnel fighters and engineers rooted out the duergar in their fastholds and scattered the corrupted dwarves. Only a few hidden fortresses yet survived in Talingarde, and they continued to exist only by savagely guarding their secrecy. One such stronghold, Zhaaanzen-Kryr, was reported to be located near the Vale of Valtaerna. Kelvin filed this information away for future reference.

________________________________________________________________

During their down time in Ghastenhall, Dakota announced that she had officially taken Timeon as her cohort, and she began training him in the mystic arts of zen archery. The young squire took to the lessons eagerly, and swore his undying devotion and loyalty to his mistress.

Meanwhile, Brother Thrane introduced the Ninth to a young dwarven priest of Nethys, the god of magic. Though not a follower of Asmodeus, Albert Yankovick had no love of the Iomedaen's, seeing their restrictions on the study of the darker arts as an abomination to his god's views on revering magic in all of its forms. He pledged his allegiance to the Knot, and to Roger in particular, whom he felt a kinship with, both of them being outsiders in the humans' world.

_______________________________________________________________

At last the companions' month of recreation came to an end. Tiadora appeared unannounced in the middle of the Crowley Estate one evening as if she owned the place.
"Ah, dearest, there you are," she said. "You are ready I presume? The Fire-Axe awaits."
She carried with her an ornate scroll case of dark red lacquered wood and brass fittings.
"Why are we going to see Fire-Axe?" Tardaesha asked.
"Has the month addled your brain?" Tiadora snapped. "Your Master has made a deal with the Fire-Axe. Mighty Sakkarot will give you the core of an army. You will build your horde as you see fit, and by winter's start you will invade the Vale of Valtaerna and slaughter the Iomedaen Order of St. Macarius to a man. Now, gather close around me."
They did as they were told, each one touching the hem of her gown. She drew a scroll from the case, unfurled it, and read the incantation printed upon it. There was a flash of light and a moment of disorientation, but when both had passed, the Ninth Knot found themselves far from Ghastenhall.

They appeared in the courtyard of a burned-out ruin of a castle decorated with the grisly remains of its former lords.
"Castle Westkirk," came a deep, yet somehow still female, grumble from behind them. "Or rather what remains of it."
The companions turned, but instead of the dangerously beautiful Tiadora, they found a white-furred bugbear garbed in a spike-and-skull adorned leather harness which bore the icon of a great axe wreathed in flame. She began to walk purposefully, and every other bugbear she passed eyed her intensely but seemed unwilling to meet her gaze. Silent, she proceeded into the castle ruins and directly to the throne room. Sitting upon the conquered throne of Westkirk, clad in fine but ill-fitting armor and still wielding his infernal weapon, was the Fire-Axe himself. He stood and growled at the white bugbear with a low provocative roar. She smiled and growled back.
"Did you miss me, dearest?"
The Fire-Axe then noticed the companions.
"You've brought friends...," he said. "Old friends! Welcome! Behold, my warriors, it was these vicious killers who slaughtered the guards of Balentyne and opened the gates for us to raid the south. It was they who brought us steel! They are my honored guests and I will feast upon the heart of any who does not treat them well."
That earned the Knot a bestial cheer from the gathered warriors before they returned eagerly to their feasting, drinking and gambling.
"We have much to discuss," the Fire-Axe continued. "Join me in my war-room."

The bugbear chieftain stood and was followed by a dozen elite lieutenants into a side chamber. Within was a great table covered in maps. In one corner, a man tied to a chair was having hot coals applied to the soles of his feet by two bugbear thugs.
"What are you doing?" Sakkarot demanded. "Torture is to be done in the dungeons!"
"It is full, my lord," the thugs protested.
"Imbeciles!" Sakkarot bellowed. "Make room for the Baron and get him out of my sight!"
He shook his head as the two underlings scampered off with the still-whimpering Baron of Westkirk.
"Good help is so hard to find," he complained. "Take a seat."
He sat at the head of the table, then pointed to one of his more junior lieutenants.
"Bring us some of that good brandy we looted from Lorringsgate. Now!"
The bugbear was off like a shot and soon returned with a large cask of liquor.
"It is good to see you," Sakkarot said to his guests. "I've been hearing a lot about your exploits from Tiadora here. I'm glad I'm not the only one fighting this war."
"You know why we're here," Tiadora interjected.
"Of course I know why you're here," the chief growled. "You want to steal my army!"
"We want to use a small part of it for a special mission," Tiadora replied calmly. "If Valtaerna could be sacked, the king's army will be denied those clerics. It will be..."
"Yes, yes, I've heard your pitch," Sakkarot interrupted. "With the Vale destroyed the king's army will be weakened and we will fare better against them when we push towards Daveryn in the spring. I've already agreed to lend my friends here in the Ninth Knot Hekkarth's Head-Takers. That's a hundred warriors!"
Tiadora nodded.
"We want more than that. Cardinal Thorn also commands that Shagoroth Night-Mane and his retinue be given to their command."
"What?!" Sakkarot exploded. "That's another hundred and fifty warriors! What am I supposed to make war with come spring?"
"You will command more than ten times that number and more reinforcements are due from the North," Tiadora replied patiently. "By the spring your horde, mighty Sakkarot, will be greater than before."
"Half of your promised reinforcements never arrive!" Sakkarot bellowed. "You cannot have the Night-Mane. I need him!"
"Sakkarot, my friend," Dorian said, placing one hand on the bugbear's chief's shoulder, "we would not be here if we were not sorely in need of your assistance. You know that we all serve a higher purpose beyond just simple conquest of this land. Without their holy men and deprived of their holy places, the will of the people of Talingarde will break. Your efforts will be made easier, and your conquests less costly."
"Fine," the Fire-Axe grumbled after several moments of contemplation. "Night-mane as well. I'll help more than that. There are duergar beneath the mountains not far from here. My wolf-riders report evidence of them, but I have never been able to make contact. They seem uninterested in allying with us, but maybe they will with you. They certainly have no love for Talingarde."
"I came upon similar findings in my research," Kelvin nodded. "I believe we shall have to seek them out."
An interesting lead," Tiadora added her agreement. "I have one of my own. There is a medusa living in an abandoned temple not far from Valtaerna. She is a legendary monster and though knights of Talingarde have attempted to kill her many times, she has always survived. Her name is Izevel and she may be convinced to aid you."
"Hah!" Sakkarot laughed heartily. "She'll more likely decorate her parlor with your statues! What could such a horror possibly want from us?"
"I cannot say," answered Tiadora with a shrug. "That is for the Ninth Knot to discover."
"I hadn't realized you were so desperate," Sakkarot snorted. "If that's the case then I have another one for you. Amongst the many fine reinforcements that Tiadora has gathered for me, one is an oni named Raiju the Exile. He is a beast! He slew the son of a chieftain and it's just a matter of time before my killers manage to corner him. He's yours if you want him."
"We can use all the help we can get," Kelvin replied.
"Then I'll leave you to it," Sakkarot stood. "This reunion has been entertaining, but I have a fall campaign to plan. This country won't burn itself, you know."

______________________________________________________________

As it turned out, finding Raiju was not a trivial matter. The ogre mage had claimed a small chamber of the castle. When the companions of the Knot arrived there, the oni was nowhere to be seen. That fact was remedied when Kelvin cast a spell enabling him to see the unseen, and there was Raiju lurking up near the ceiling.
"Come down and speak with us," Kelvin said. "We mean you no harm. The Fire-Axe told us of your plight and we seek your assistance. We will take you far from here and your enemies."
The ogre-mage hesitated for a moment, but then floated gently down to the floor.
"I am listening," he said in heavily accented Common.
"We are servants of Asmodeus," Kelvin said. "We care nothing for your crimes. We plan to commit much worse atrocities in the coming days. We are journeying to the most holy place in Talingarde with a small force, and once we arrive there we will put it to the blade and the fire. We will leave no one alive to bear witness. Does this sound like something that would appeal to you?"
Raiju smiled broadly.
"Indeed it does! I will accompany you if such wickedness is afoot. In return I would only ask for a small pittance of whatever wealth you recover."
"I believe we can come to a satisfactory arrangement," Kelvin nodded. "Tell me, however, why are you called 'Exile?'"
"'Tis a long and sad tale," Raiju shook his head. "Suffice it to say that I was banished from my homeland of Minkai beyond the Crown of the World. My lord, the Jade Regent, conqueror of that land and leader of the Five Storms, had set me a task to waylay and eliminate a band of 'heroes' from the south lands who were reputed to be traveling with a legitimate heir to the throne."
"I gather you failed at your assignment," Kelvin said.
"'Tis true," Raiju said. "They were formidable. When I returned with news of my failure, the Jade Regent banished me."
"Well your misfortune is our good luck," Kelvin smiled, clapping the oni on the back. "A little time with us, and your woes will be but a distant memory."

________________________________________________________________

Since the location of the medusa's temple was not far from Kirkwall, the companions decided to pay her a visit before they returned to Ghastenhall. The temple itself was an empty ruin perched on a lonely, wind-swept hilltop. The companions approached cautiously and paused at the threshold.
"Hello!" Dakota shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "We come in peace! We seek Izevel! We mean you no harm!"
There was no answer save for the sighing of the wind through the empty windows. Dakota nodded at Kat, who turned and disappeared into the building, vanishing like a shadow. The interior was dim and littered with rubble and debris, but it didn't take Kat long to spot a lone figure standing behind the remains of a broken pillar. She crept closer, careful to keep her eyes averted, as Kelvin had told her what the gaze of a medusa could do. As she maneuvered into position behind the creature, Kat could see that she was dressed in a red gown that clung to her curves. Her body was that of a beautiful woman, but her face was hidden behind a golden mask, and a nest of snakes hissed and writhed upon her head.

"Hello!" Dakota called out again from the doorway where the others had entered. The medusa did not reply. Instead she stepped out into the open, and from a small mouth hole in the mask exhaled a cloud of green mist. It washed over Kat's friends and siblings, and she quickly stifled an involuntary scream. When the vapors dissipated a moment later, however, they all stood unscathed.
"We don't want to hurt you," Dorian called, "but we won't let you hurt us either. We have come seeking an alliance. Will you hear us?"
In response Izevel raised the bow she had held beside her and began firing a barrage of arrows.
"That answers that question," Lemmy snarled.
He extended his hand and sent a blast of rocks and debris at the medusa, driving her back several paces...stumbling right into Kat. Kat brought her dagger down hard, pommel first, at the base of Izevel's skull. She collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Roger slipped a bag over the medusa's head and bound her wrists before Dorian revived her.
"Now, we can be pleasant about this," Kelvin said, kneeling down next to her, "or we can just kill you. We came here with a legitimate offer for you. Will you hear us?"
"I will," Izevel hissed. "You have bested me. I am yours to do with as you please."
"We do not mean to make a slave of you," Kelvin said. "We merely want your assistance to bring down this nation of hypocrites."
Slowly, Izevel turned her head towards the sound of Kelvin's voice.
"You...you would take me with you?" she asked. "I could finally...leave?"
"And never return if that is what you desire," Kelvin agreed.
"Then I pledge my life to you," Izevel said, murder in her voice.


HOW THE NESSIAN KNOT STOLE CHRISTMAS

20 Erastus, 4717 - 25 Kuthona, 4717

Kelvin spent more and more of his time in the company of Barnabus Thrane, picking the old man's brain and pumping him for ever more information about their mission. Thrane, for his part, relished the role of teacher and mentor, and was more than happy to provide the young mage with personal anecdotes as well as an extensive reading list on the history of the Vale of Valtaerna.

There were four pillars that kept Talingarde intact, Thrane informed Kelvin. The first one was the Watch Wall, which had already been neutralized thanks to the actions of the 9th Knot. The second was the Order of Saint Macarius, which counted among its membership every divine spellcaster of Iomedae. Within their fortress monastery in the Vale of Valtaerna, the Order guarded the most sacred site in the realm. The Vale itself was a small mountain valley, and during the winter months its only pass became treacherous. The Vale sealed itself off and no pilgrims visited. For three months, the defenders of the Vale were cut off from the outside world. To enter the Vale, first the two bridges of Saintsbridge must be crossed, which lay beyond the Watchtower that guarded the mouth of the Vale. Once inside, pilgrims usually lodged in the township of Sanctum, a small place populated mostly with priests and guards. Sanctum sat on the banks of the Lake Parynthus, famed for its healing waters. Towering above the lake was the legendary Mountain of the Phoenix. This spire of stone seemed impossible to climb, yet every true priest of Iomedae had to accomplish the feat. Atop the spire was the Flame That Never Dies. Could that be the legendary phoenix itself? Further still, in the shadow of Mount Mitrandius, was the famed Garden of Serenity and the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest. No one went there but Iomedae's chosen. The head of the Order of Saint Macarius was a priest named Earnan MacCathlain. The Vale itself lay some 50 miles from Ghastenhall, in the eastern Ansgarian Mountains. A small party could pass through the Watchtower by posing as pilgrims, however there were said to be beings inside that could smell evil. The Watchtower itself held a contingent of holy warriors commanded by the Captain of the Watchtower. There were at least 50 such guardsmen. There were also two strange statues in the causeway that were rumored to be some sort of golems. There used to be 500 soldiers within the Vale plus a contingent of dwarves. Likely many of them had been called away to war. However, there were rumors of all sorts of celestial beings from the higher realms that resided there. Saint Macarius founded the Order, but he wasn't the only saint it produced. Saint Angelo the Wise was perhaps the greatest devil hunter Talingarde ever saw. It was said he captured many artifacts of the Asmodean faith. Those that he could destroy, he did, but a few he could not destroy. Those he had placed within a great vault and hidden from the world. He commanded these artifacts placed where the "Sun never sets," a poetic way of referring to the Vale with its eternal flames.

Armed with this information, Kelvin reported back to his companions, but there was still time before they had to begin their trek to the holy vale. In the mean time, they decided to seek out the duergar and attempt to forge an alliance against their common foe. They spent two days searching the low foothills outside of Ghastenhall before Grumblejack and Katarina managed to find a well-hidden path that looked to have been recently trodden by steel-shod feet. They followed the tracks to a narrow crevasse in a high cliff face, and then down into the bowels of the hills themselves. It was not long before they caught up to the duergar patrol.

It was Lemmy who cautiously approached the group, disguised by the circlet as a duergar himself.
"Who are ye?" the commander snapped. "What are ye doin' in the company of these sun-worshippers?"
"They saved me," Lemmy replied in the dark tongue. "They're not sun-worshippers, but rather followers of the Father of Lies. They seek an alliance with the thane against the cursed light-dwellers!"
The duergar conferred among themselves for a moment before the commander turned back.
"Ye can come along," he said, "but ye'll have to leave the weapons behind."
Tardaesha stepped forward and stood before the commander.
"You have nothing to fear from us," she said soothingly.
"We got nuthin' to fear from ye," the duergar murmured, enthralled by her beauty.
"We need our weapons in case the sun-worshipers followed us."
"Makes sense to me," the commander nodded.
"Now let's be about our business," Tardaesha smiled winningly.
"Aye, just so," the duergar nodded again. "Move along!"

The companions were escorted through the splendor of the duergar undercity of Zhaanzen-Kryr. Though the duergar may have been loathsome servants of darkness, they still had all the craft and skill of the dwarves. The architecture was masterful...a dark fairy tale of stone. Everywhere were murals depicting the duergar's betrayal by their dwarven kin and the duergar's eventual victory and retribution. Litanies of hate covered the walls of the city. As large as the city was, even in their brief transit through it the companions could estimate that there were probably not more than a thousand duergar in the entire holdfast. Glowing eyes pierced the bleak gloom as the dark dwarves watched the above-worlders with anger and curiosity. Many of them whispered in the tongue of the underdark, as the strangers passed.
"Fools! They will see they face the fire before this day is out!"

Finally, the 9th Knot was brought before the leader of the duergar, Thane Zashur Arzen.
"Why are you here, up-worlders?" Arzen snarled without preamble. "Tell me why I should not have you sacrificed to the forges this instant?"
"Because then you would face the wrath of our ally the Fire-Axe," Kelvin replied calmly.
The Thane's dark visage visibly paled for a moment.
"The bugbears?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "You serve them?"
"Hardly," Kelvin scoffed. "We are partners in a mutual endeavor. Namely, the fall of Talingarde. We are even now planning an assault upon the Vale of Valtaerna, and are seeking forces to assist in our cause. The Fire-Axe has committed over 200 of his warriors, and Prince Gaius himself has even agreed to send his spawn with us."
Arzen's expression changed. He leaned forward on his throne to peer more closely at his guests.
"If you have such allies among the mighty, why have I never heard of you?"
"We have not stayed alive by advertising our deeds," Kelvin laughed, "though perhaps you have heard of those. Do you know of the sacking of Balentyne? What about the waking of the Horn of Abaddon and the return of Vetra-Kali Eats-The-Eyes? All of it our doing."
The Thane rubbed his whiskered chin.
"Indeed," he murmured. "So now you come before me seeking my allegiance? Tell me, will there be dwarves amongst the defenders of the Vale?"
"There is rumored to be a dwarven contingent there, yes," Kelvin nodded.
Arzen grinned evilly.
"Bring any of them that you can to me, alive," he hissed. "Swear to do this, and you will have our commitment!"
"We will strive our best, you have my word," Kelvin said.
"Come to us when you are ready to begin your campaign then," the Thane said. "I shall send with you my son, Zargun Arzen, and one-hundred of my finest soldiers. The sun-lovers will never know what hit them!"

___________________________________________________________________

Shortly after their return to Ghastenhall and the Crowley Estate, the companions of the Nessian Knot received an unexpected visitor. With no warning, a cloud of brimstone and sulfurous smoke erupted in the center of the drawing room, and a strange individual emerged from it. With rust-colored skin and a jutting crown of ridge-like horns, the muscular devil was draped in lengthy contracts. He bowed and began speaking, his speech polite, formal and effusive.
"Great and powerful masters of darkness," he began, "behold your servant, Dessiter of the Phistophilus. I have only just received word of your great victories and I come on behalf of the Lord of the Ninth Circle to personally congratulate you. But more than that, I bring counsel if this assembly of great lords will deign to hear it."
"We've never heard of you," Kelvin said suspiciously. "Thorn did not tell us of your coming."
"You fight for the Prince of Hell," Dessiter waved dismissively. "Did you think you would not receive aid?"
"And what 'aid' is it that you offer?" Kelvin asked.
"You build an army to storm the Vale of Valtaerna," Dessiter replied. "A truly noble undertaking, but know that the Vale is guarded by more than mortal guardians. Agents of the celestial realm infest that Vale and you will need to defeat them all if Valtaerna is to be taken. There is a mortal master to the Order of St. Macarius, but he is only a figurehead. The true master of the Order is an undying eternal...an angel named Ara Mathra. He is your ultimate enemy and until he is defeated, your mission can only be deemed incomplete. Alas, little is known of the interior of the Vale, my lords. It has been long since any who serve the Dark Prince has managed to infiltrate that stronghold of light. But this much is known: defeating the mortal army stationed there will only be the beginning of your struggle. Just as the Lady of Light wears three faces, so do three eternal flames burn within the Vale. As long as those divine fires burn, the Shining Lady's connection to the Vale will be too powerful for any mortal to overcome. Extinguish the flames and you extinguish your enemies' ability to resist you."
"Your information is appreciated," Kelvin said, "but we are prepared for such celestial opponents. We have already gathered hundreds to our banner, including bugbears, oni, vampires, duergar and medusae. None shall stand before us!"
"I am relived to hear it," Dessiter smiled. "If you are willing to put that commitment to paper, then perhaps I can assist you a bit further."
He held out a roll of parchment. Dorian took if from him, unfurled it and began to read.
"It's a standard infernal contract," he said at length. "Similar to the one we signed with Thorn."
"Won't that cause conflict?" Kelvin asked.
"Not at all," Dessiter smiled. "I am something of an expert at negotiating contracts, if I do say so myself."
"And what do we get if we sign?" Kelvin asked.
"My wise counsel, obviously," Dessiter said, "...and these..."
He gestured behind him and there was another flash of brimstone, this one much larger. Three hulking forms were revealed within it. They resembled powerfully built wolves the size of large draft horses, with ebony fur and burning, fiery red eyes.
"Nessian war hounds!" Lemmy whooped. "I'm in!"
One by one the others agreed, signing Dessiter's contract in blood. When the deal was complete, he folded the parchment and tucked it into his belt.
"Give my regards to my sister, Tiadora, when you see her next," he smiled, and then vanished in a flash of sulfur.

___________________________________________________________________

Over the next three months the Nessian Knot was not idle. Roger, Tardaesha and Dakota spent time training with the forces the Fire Axe had provided, molding unit tactics among the disorganized bugbears. Meanwhile, Knick-Knack and Raiju made several overland flight trips, concealed by invisibility, to the Vale of Valtaerna itself. They reconnoitered the watchtower which guarded the mouth of the vale, taking note of the positioning of the soldiers upon its roof and wall. They also reported the presence of two strange creatures that prowled the roof, ever watchful and seemingly never sleeping.

With this information, Dorian, Tardaesha, Katarina and Kelvin made their own journey to the Vale traveling with, and disguised as pilgrims. Forewarned by Brother Thrane of the ability of the tower guardians to detect subversive thoughts among visitors, they took pains to shield their minds behind complex spells. They were cleared through the main gate and passed through a central causeway that ran the length of the guardhouse. On the far side they passed a pair of massive stone sentinels which Kelvin believed might actually be golems.

Once past the watchtower, the companions made their way across the Vale to the village of Sanctum, which sat upon the shore of Lake Parnythus. The valley was idyllic, watered by the River Aiden, with only farmlands and forests to break up its gently rolling hills. In the center of the lake rose the majestic Mountain of the Phoenix, which shed a comforting pale light across the Vale day and night. Sanctum itself defined a sleepy farming community. There were no brothels nor seedy bars and the taverns all closed after dark. Holy practitioners were everywhere, from monks and lay clergy to visiting priests and local church officials. There were more churches, temples and shrines per capita than anywhere else in Talingarde. Most of the population was human, but there was a sizable population of dwarven soldiers and laborers, as well as more than a few halfing farmers. The companions of the Ninth Knot quickly learned that only priests visited the Mountain of the Phoenix, and only the most senior of the clergy were allowed to visit the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest, which lay beyond the Gardens of Serenity. They also learned one more valuable piece of information: the entire Vale would be celebrating the Winter Feast, which occurred on the winter solstice on the 25th day of Kuthona.

_______________________________________________________________

25 Kuthona - Winter Feast

From a distance the Watchtower of Saintsbridge presented an imposing figure. Made of white stone, it was solidly built and a great banner hung along its facade announcing to anyone who somehow hadn't figured it out yet that it was a fortress in service to Talingarde and the Church of Iomedae. The tower was the centerpiece of a wall that closed the entire entranceway into the Vale. Climbing the steep mountains that surrounded the Vale might be possible for a few mountain goats, but anything else would either have to fly or pass through that forbidding chokepoint. The Watchtower was key to controlling access to the Vale of Valtaerna beyond, and as such, it had to fall.

It was dusk, nearing nightfall, when Raiju, Grumblejack, Katarina and Knick-Knack approached the wall west of the tower invisibly. The oni and ogre both flew, while Kat clung to Grumblejack's back. Once they reached the top of the wall, Knick-Knack communicated to Tardaesha that they were in position. In response, Dr. Know opened a dimensional portal and transported Tardaesha and Lemmy to the tower roof, while Kelvin did the same for Dorian, Timeon and Dakota to the eastern wall.

The crenellated roof of the tower was accessible by two spiral staircases that descended into the structure. A heavy brass gong was suspended between two large stone pillars, and was secured by heavy ropes to prevent the wind from sounding it accidentally. When Tardaesha and her companions appeared, they did so cloaked in total silence due to a dweomer prepared by Dr. Know, but they did not go unnoticed. Crouched on the rooftop were a pair of strange creatures with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles, and the faces of wise human men. Tardaesha motioned to Dr. Know, who quickly set to work disabling the gong, while she and Lemmy turned their attention to the guardians.

Grumblejack snapped the neck of the first guardsman, creeping up on the man unseen. Raiju dispatched the second one a bit more messily by tearing out his throat. Katarina moved soundlessly to a door that led into the tower itself. Beyond it was a hallway that ran the entire length of the tower to connect through a second door to the opposite parapet wall. Kat cursed under her breath when she saw that second door open and a pair of guards rush through. She could also hear raised voices coming from behind a door leading off the hallway. Apparently something had alerted the soldiers. After another moment, the sounds of battle from the rooftop told her exactly what that was.

Back on the roof, just as Kelvin transported himself, Dakota and Timeon topside, Tardaesha charged the nearest of the two watchers, her sword raised and Asmodeus' name on her lips. The creature reared up on its back legs, roaring like a beast as it met her charge. The pair collided like titans, steel and claws flashing and slashing, blood spattering all around them. Dakota snapped off two shots from her bow, but the arrows protruding from its flank did not even slow the watcher. Dak watched in horror at the brutal melee, fear for her sister's life etched across her face. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was really only a matter of seconds, the watcher crashed to the roof flagstones on its back, Tardaesha standing bloodied but triumphant atop it, her blade thrust deep into its chest.
"Hey!" Lemmy's voice sounded from across the roof, a touch of panic at its edges. "A little help here!"
Dakota turned and saw the second watcher bounding towards the dwarf. Lemmy quickly cast a spell, and several mirror images of him suddenly appeared, dancing around him. The watcher roared in frustration, slashing its claws at the figments, causing several of them to dissolve. Then one of its strikes got lucky and gouged deep furrows into Lemmy's chest.

It was about that time that the first of the guards arrived on the roof, alerted by the roaring of the watchers. Timeon put an arrow through the throat of the first one, while Dakota continued firing at the remaining watcher. Kelvin quickly threw up a wall of fire between it and Lemmy, but the creature simply flew over the top. At that moment, Dr. Know raised one hand triumphantly as the gong clattered silently to the ground.

Katarina stalked down the hallway of the tower cloaked in darkness, silently following the guards. Just as she reached the door they went through, however, one of them closed it behind. Kat cursed under her breath. She pressed her ear against the door, listening. She could hear the footsteps of the men retreating up the stairs, but then a moment later she heard them running back down, shouting in alarm. When they threw the door back open, they never even glanced her way, even as she began slicing their throats from behind.

Timeon took down another guard just as another squad came rushing up the stairs, but then quickly turned back at the sight of Kelvin's firewall. Raiju snatched one of the soldiers as he reached the head of the stairs, and then hurled him over the side of the roof, sending him screaming down to the courtyard below. Meanwhile, Lemmy was in full retreat from the unceasing rampage of the watcher. His mirror images were in tatters, and the creatures was landing more and more of its blows. With one last swipe across his brow, Lemmy swooned and slumped unconscious. Grumblejack rushed to the dwarf's side and hacked at the beast, and then Raiju joined him, attacking from its flank. Finally, the watcher went down after Dakota put one last arrow through its eye.

Kelvin had taken to the air and circled the top of the tower, looking for signs that the rest of the garrison might be mobilizing. He saw movement below him as a group of soldiers ran across the courtyard for the inner portcullis. He hurled an explosive ball of acid into their midst, sending bodies flying in all directions. He smiled in satisfaction to himself, but that's when he saw that one of the guards had survived. The man crawled to the inner portcullis, pressed his face against it and shouted hoarsely.
"We are under attack!!"


THE BATTLE OF SAINT'S BRIDGE

25 Kuthona, 4717

The Nessian Knot quickly regrouped on the roof of the watchtower and began making their way down one of the spiral stairwells to the interior of the fort. They only made it down one floor before they encountered resistance. Waiting for them in the large guard room at the bottom of the stairs was Captain Arthis Fidelis, the watchtower commander. With him were a dozen warriors clad in the tabard of the holy order of Saint Macarius, and behind them were two large clay statues carved to resemble knights of the order. They were animate and lumbered single-mindedly towards the intruders.

Dakota started things off by rapid-firing a trio of arrows into the breastplate of the commander. The holy warriors responded by crying out, "For Iomedae!" They then charged into the fray. Seeing the real problem, Kelvin ignored the charging soldiers, trusting his more martial-oriented allies to keep them off of him, and turned his attention towards the clay golems. He calmed his mind and focused on the floor beneath the nearest construct. Spreading his arms apart slowly, he watched as a pit began to yawn open beneath the brute. As he spoke the last word of his spell, the chasm reached its full size and the golem toppled into it.

"Save me!" Tardaesha cried as the warriors closed.
She had used her circlet to disguise herself as a nun of the order of Saint Cythia Celste, her hands apparently bound behind her.
"Stand aside, Sister!" one of the warriors shouted.
He grabbed her and pulled her roughly behind him and his comrades. Tardaesha smiled as she drew her sword from beneath her habit and began to lay into the reckless idiots from the back as her friends met them head on. As the battle raged on, Dorian split the combatants in half with a prayer that erected a raging wall of fire down the middle of the room, immolating several of the soldiers as it sprang into existence. Meanwhile, Lemmy met the captain head-on, his arm morphing into a kinetic blade of steel. The commander tried to deflect the blows of the massive blade, but Lemmy nmanaged to get around his defenses and shove the metal spike through the man's chest.

Raiju and Grumblejack moved to intercept the second golem, flaking it to prevent it from getting any closer to their bosses. The construct's massive arms swung like battering rams, and when one of them slammed into Grumblejack's belly, it burned as if he'd been dipped in acid. Still, the ogre and the oni were a force to be reckoned with, and under their combined assault, the golem was soon reduced to broken shards of crockery.

The holy warriors fought valiantly, but ultimately in vain. The Nessian Knot took them out one-by-one with brutal efficiency. As the last one fell, Lemmy went to stand over the pit the first golem had fallen into. It stood at the bottom, some thirty-feet below, clawing at the walls in a futile attempt to climb them. Lemmy focused and began hammering the creature with his kinetic blasts, slowly and deliberately, grinding it to dust in a matter of moments.

With the main defense of the watchtower defeated, the companions were able to make their way down to the ground floor with little trouble. Once there, they raised the gates and allowed their forces to begin flowing into the Vale. Kelvin ordered the vampire spawn to hunt down the remaining defenders of the tower, and a short time later he began to hear the screaming.

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The horde of bugbears, duergar and vampire spawn marched into the Vale of Valtaerna under cover of darkness, but the battle at the watchtower had not gone entirely unnoticed by the defenders of Sanctum. The invading horde had advanced no more than a few hundred yards into the valley when they found their way blocked by a line of finely dressed and battle-ready Knights of the Alerion mounted on barded destriers. Their commander rode out to the fore of the knights and lowered his lance.
"Forth men of Iomedae!" he cried. "And fear no darkness!"
The knights roared their defiance, readied their lances and charged forward in a great V formation. The bugbears at the front of the horde hesitated and seemed ready to break before the wall of horse and steel.

Izevel the medusa stepped directly in front of the charging line of horsemen, and those gathered behind her gaped in awe. Her veil remained in place as she drew her bow taught and loosed a single black shaft. It struck the commander's mount directly beneath its breast bone, and the horse stumbled and fell. The captain leaped from the saddle at the last moment and landed nimbly on his feet...just as a volley of arrows from Timeon and Dakota made a pin cushion of him. The vanguard of the knights hesitated, and that's when a pair of explosive spells, one of ice and one of fire, detonated among them. Dorian and Kelvin nodded in satisfaction as they surveyed the aftermath. All of the dozen knights in the van lay dead, as did their mounts. Behind them, the line of soldiers broke in panic, and as they fled, the bugbear horde chased them down, snarling and howling at the prospect of bloodshed and slaughter.

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As the companions reorganized their forces and continued their advance, a volley of arrows fell from the sky all around them, injuring Kelvin slightly as well as the Nessian war hound upon whose back he rode. From a rise in the distance a cluster of archers had seized the high ground. A flag went up with the signet of the archery command, and from there they began to coordinate arrow fire in great volleys. For a moment, the horde appeared on the verge of breaking apart beneath the withering assault, but Kelvin and Dorian once more ended the threat by sending a pair of fireballs to the hilltop, immolating everyone there.

________________________________________________________________

Line by line, the bugbears crashed through the ranks of Talirean infantry. Mostly, the hearty yeomanry and the common soldiery were unprepared for the brutal ferocity of the shaggy northern monsters. Again and again the bugbears ripped into their enemies and taught them a lesson in butchery. Suddenly, however, the slaughter ceased. At the center of the Talirean lines the bugbears met their match. Sturdy dwarven soldiers hewed down the beasts with hammer and axe. They bellowed in old dwarven.
"Axes of the dwarves! The dwarves are upon you!"
Their numbers were few but their worth upon the battlefield was great. Pinning them all together was the great dwarven thane at their center.

Before the Ninth could even utter an order, the duergar warriors, led by Zargun Arzen, charged headlong at the dwarves. Timeon and Dakota reacted quickly, targeting the thane in the vanguard with their bows while Raiju and Lemmy blasted the line of nobles with twin vortices of arctic cold and razor-sharp stone.
"Race traitor!" the thane roared as he rushed at Lemmy, axe upraised.
"Ain't got nuthin' to do with race," Lemmy laughed. "It's all about who makes it worth my while! Fer example, take a gander at my latest gift!"
He stepped aside as the huge Nessian war hound stalked into view. The thane and three nobles behind him hesitated for a moment. It was a moment too long. The hound opened its jaws and spewed flame upon them, leaving nothing but the charred remains of the nobles.

A bearded female dwarf stepped out of the vanguard, a silver hammer in her hand.
"By Torag, Father Mountain Himself, I smite thee!" she cried.
A brilliant blast of pure white light exploded among the Knot and Timeon clawed at his eyes as he was struck blind.
"And by the power of the Lord of Lies, I smite thee back!" Dorian cried.
A bolt of black energy struck the priestess and she screamed and grabbed at her own eyes. As she reeled, Raiju dealt her a crushing blow with his greatsword. She staggered back...straight into Katarina's waiting blades.

Tardaesha stood at Lemmy's side and the two of them battled the great dwarven thane toe-to-toe, until at last the anti-paladin smote the king through the heart, cleaving his breast plate in two with the force of her blow. Their companions finished mopping up the remaining nobles, and then paused to take stock of the rest of the battlefield. The rank-and-file dwarven soldiers and the duergar had engaged in some of the most brutal slaughter seen in the battle thus far, and in the aftermath less than half of the dark dwarves still stood, but the center of the dwarven line had been broken.

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Behind the dwarven center, vicious combatants confidently moved through the ranks of the invaders slaughtering anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way. They were led by one man, a bald-headed warrior who, with his bare hands, broke necks and sent his foes scattering. As the companions of the Nessian Knot looked on, he shattered the spine of a bugbear sub-chieftain. With every moment that passed, the monks took a deadly toll upon the horde.

This time it was the minions' turn. Lemmy and Dakota sent the Nessian war hounds forward, while Dorian commanded Artephius to loose his bombs. Knick-Knack and Dr. Know supported the others with their spells, while Izevel plied her bow to lethal effect, and Raiju leveled the field with cones of blistering cold. The monks were devastating in a stand-up, one-on-one fight, but against the combined might of the Nessian Knot, they were cut down like wheat beneath the scythe.

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Inexorably, the horde continued their march across the first of the two bridges that forded the River Aiden. Sanctum had precious little in the way of siege engines, and those they possessed were scarcely in position before they were overrun and ripped to shreds by the attackers. Still, they did manage to get off a volley or two, and one of those bombardments struck directly in the midst of the Knot, sending the companions scrambling in all directions to avoid being crushed.

Soon the invaders approached the second and larger of the bridges, only to find the way barred by two glowing creatures, each as large and an ogre, encased in armor and wielding great tower shields. Golden wings sprouted from their backs.
"Shield archons," Dakota breathed. "I guess those rumors of angelic protectors were true."
"Angels, schmangels," Lemmy growled. "Bet they still bleed!"
He pointed his hand and stones flew in a violent blast towards the archons. One of them threw up his shield, but the force of the barrage battered it aside and punched a hole through the front of his armor.
"I like this dwarf!" Raiju laughed.
The oni charged forward, a great katana gripped in both hands. As he drew near the archons, Artephius hurled bombs before him, which exploded into bursts of acid and ice at the feet of the angels. Then Raiju was among them, swinging his blade in huge arcs, slicing through the mail of the celestials like hot butter. One of the warhounds came behind him and breathed hellfire on the archons, while Dakota sent a continuous volley of arrows into the mix. Finally, with one final fireball hurled by Kelvin, the angels fell, and the way forward was open.

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The Vale of Valtaerna had been the home of celestials for many years, and during that time that population had served alongside and even rarely fallen in love with mortals. Therefore it was no surprise that there were more aasimar in Sanctum than probably all of the rest of Talingarde put together. From that cohort was drawn some of the most elite knights of Iomedae's orders, and they ranked among the Vale's finest defenders.

From up in the sky came a deafening screech. As the horde looked up, they beheld a half-dozen of those knights in full armor swooping down on griffons with coats the color of brightest dawn. They were headed straight for the vanguard of the Nessian Knot as the invaders began crossing the greater Saintsbridge.

Izevel took a knee as the air cavalry closed and placed a red-feathered shaft through the foreleg of the lead griffon. As the beast roared and reared, Dakota put three more arrows into its rider.
"I've always wanted to try this," Dorian chortled, rubbing his hands together.
He spoke a prayer and casts his hands upwards towards their assailants. Abruptly, four of the griffons broke rank and began circling randomly in confusion. One of them turned its head and sank its beak into its rider's thigh. In turn, the knight slammed the base of his lance into his mount's head. Two of the other befuddled griffons jabbered and babbled nonsensically as they drifted, while the last gnawed savagely at its own leg.

The remaining mounted knights charged down towards the companions, their steel-tipped lances held before them. The lead knight speared Raiju through the chest, his lance wreathed in holy fire. As the oni reeled backwards, the knight's griffon leaped upon him like a cat, sinking its hooked beak into his shoulder as it raked at his belly with its claws. Raiju went down in a whirlwind of feathers and blood. The melee upon the bridge became chaotic and increasingly lethal in record time. The knights and their mounts soared overhead, darting in for hit-an-run sorties. The Knot responded with swords, bows and magic, not to mention the not-inconsiderable contributions of the Nessian warhounds. The aasimar were fearless, and they never thought of giving ground nor relinquishing the bridge, even when their numbers began to dwindle as more of them fell. Soon it was over. The knights and their regal mounts all lay dead on the ground, or floated in the blood-tinged waters of the river. The way to Sanctum lay open and undefended


25 Kuthona, 4717 - 7 Abadius, 4718 - The Fury Of The Phoenix

The battlefield was littered with dead, and everywhere could be heard the cries of the dying. The battle had been savage, as the bugbears were brutes with no regard for life, and the priests and holy warriors were fanatics who would never retreat under any circumstances. The conflict between these two forces had been a brutal slaughter, but victory was finally in sight. As the Nessian Knot and their vanguard approached the far end of the greater bridge, however, a final group of defenders barred their way. This was no ordinary band of soldiers, but the priests of Iomedae themselves, backed by a company of holy warriors. They were of the Order of Saint Macarius, and they had been sent by the leader of their order, Lord-Abbot Earnan MacCathlain himself.

"Come now," Kelvin sighed, stepping forward. "Is their really need for more death? Will your throw your lives away for nothing?"
"Sacrifice is never in vain if it blooms from moral purpose," one of the priests called back. "We will give no quarter!"
Kelvin sighed again. "Very well."
He clenched his fist abruptly, and then thrust it forward. A ball of black fire went streaking into the midst of the defenders, and then exploded in a blast of vitriol. The holy warriors screamed as their armor dissolved along with flesh and bone beneath it. Within seconds all that remained of them were hissing heaps of goo. The four priests still stood, however, not a mark upon them.
"Our Lord-Abbott warned us of your foul magics," the head priest called. "We do not fear you!"
"Well then, what about me?" Dakota laughed as she knelt and fired her bow, Timeon only a half-second behind her. Their arrows struck one of the clerics, and he choked out a grunt of pain as he stumbled.
"Or me?" Lemmy bellowed. He swirled one finger in the air and a shaft of metal shards coalesced around it. This he sent forward, writhing like a serpent, to strike the injured priest as well as one of his comrades.
"Wait till they get a look at me!" Tardaesha cackled as she pulled a flask from her belt and turned it up. Immediately she began to grow until she stood at twice her original height. Then Dr. Know stepped up beside her and touched her arm. In a burst of light, the two of them vanished and then reappeared behind the priests.
Just as they arrived, Dorian commanded Artephius to release his bombs, and the golem lobbed a globe crackling with electricity into the center of the clerics. When it detonated, the wounded priest was blown back, and he did not rise again. It was only then that any of the clerics got the opportunity to go on the offensive. One of them called down a column of holy flame upon Lemmy, Roger and one of the war hounds, but it didn't really slow them down. Instead Dakota rapid-fired a volley of arrows and took down another of the defenders, while Lemmy blasted a third. The one who'd managed to get off his spell stood resolute, knowing that his fate was sealed. He closed his eyes, gripped his holy symbol and uttered one last prayer before the Nessian war hound tore out his throat.

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As the last barrier to taking Sanctum was torn down, Kelvin ordered several of the Knot's more trusted underlings, along with the remaining vampire spawn, back to the watchtower to guard against any surprise visitors to the Vale. Then the remainder of the invading forces moved on to the town itself. Even as they approached, the snow began to fall in earnest and the sky darkened even further. The Vale of Valtaerna fully belonged to the Knot of Thorns

The bugbears and their allies wasted no time in sacking Sanctum and putting it to the torch. There were still some two-thousand survivors there when the invaders arrived. Those numbers began to fall rapidly. The Knot took up residence in the Reeve's manor, which escaped most of the mayhem. As they settled in, Shagoroth Night-Mane hauled the Reeve himself into the greatroom, sobbing and sniveling like a woman.
"Timon Lotte," Night-Mane snarled
"Oh great and terrible lords!" Lotte gibbered. "We surrender! The township of Sanctum and the Vale of Valtaerna are yours! I beg you, free the women and children! They are no threat to you. Spare them and with the spring they will spread the word of your great power and awesome victory to every corner of Talingarde! All will fear you!"
"Thank you for gifting us with something that we already own," Kelvin smiled scornfully. "And as for being feared, we already are by those with wisdom. Those without are all dead, or soon will be."
"Let me build a pyramid of skulls in the center of town, my lords," Hekkarth Head-Taker growled. He'd come in behind Night-Mane. "With the deep chill of winter, it will freeze into a solid block of blood and ice. When we leave and the Iomedaens retake this sewer pit, they will find our mark and know that it was the Head-Takers that did this!"
Timon Lotte blanched in abject terror and soiled himself.
"There will be time to build pyramids out of skulls, Hekkarth," Night-Mane replied calmly. "Before we sever the heads, perhaps we should learn what is inside them first. The Vale is not entirely ours. A light still burns on the Mountain of the Phoenix, and the Cathedral is still unconquered. I could begin torturing the survivors to see what they know."
"I like that idea," Dakota nodded, smiling.
"Yes, I think it best we find out all that we can about what yet awaits us within this treacherous place," Kelvin agreed. "Very well Shaggoth. Get to work."

_______________________________________________________________

Over the next two weeks, the Nessian Knot secured its hold on Sanctum, in no small part by terrorizing its surviving citizens. Tardaesha gathered several of the griffon corpses from the battlefield and used black necromancy to animate them as grotesque zombies. She took one as her personal mount, and gifted the others to the commanders of the bugbears and duergar. At the watchtower, a few late-season pilgrims came seeking the asylum of the blessed vale, only to find horror and death at the hands of the vampire spawn.

On one morning during that interval, Prince Zargon approached Kelvin with his duergar soldiers arrayed behind him.
"We are going home," the Prince declared, "and we will be taking our prisoners with us."
He referred to the few remaining dwarves that had survived the battle of Saint's Bridge.
"I understand," Kelvin nodded. "Your help was invaluable, and we will not forget our allies."
Zargon grunted and nodded in return.
"You are friends of the duergar," he said gruffly, "and you will always be welcome in Zhaazen-Kryr."
He gripped Kelvin's hand, then sat his cadaverous mount and led his men and their ill-fated prisoners from the vale.

Near the end of the second week, while the Dannisters were visiting the watchtower on inspection, a rag-tag band of survivors from Sanctum decided to make a break for it and escape the vale. They were led by a nobleman from Farholde called Lord Roderick, and consisted of a motley assortment of soldiers of the watch, elite archers, holy warriors, two acolytes of the Serene Order, a dwarven noble, a priest of Iomedae, and an unhorsed Knight of the Alerion. Their endeavor was doomed from the start. One of Kelvin's fireballs, tossed while the mob was still a hundred yards away, killed the soldiers, half the holy warriors and archers, the dwarf and the priest. A follow-up cone of razor-sharp ice shards from Raiju took out the remaining survivors except for Lord Roderick, the Alerion Knight, one acolyte and one holy warrior. The mopping-up was handled brutally and efficiently by the rest of the Knot.

While searching the bodies, Katarina came upon several documents among Lord Roderick's belongings. They authorized payment from a merchant in Ghastenhall of 12,000 gold coins to Lord Roderick of Farholde.
"We spent the better part of a year in that armpit of a town," Kat said when she showed the writs to her family. "There is no such nobleman there."
"It seems we may have killed a kindred spirit!" Dakota laughed.
"Yes," Dorian agreed as he perused the papers. "Likely he was some swindler who came here to bilk the trusting Iomedaens out of their money."
"Looks like he succeeded," Tardaesha said. "The thing is, that Goldquarter merchant doesn't know he was a charlatan, and thanks to my little bauble," she tapped the iron circlet on her brow, "Lord Roderick can still claim his ill-gotten booty."
Dakota smiled broadly and kissed her twin affectionately on the lips.
"That's why I keep you around," she laughed.

_________________________________________________________________

"The torture's gone well," Nightmane reported at the end of two weeks. "Oh, how talkative all of my new friends have been. First, you missed somebody. The Head of the Order of Macarius wasn't in the battle...Earnan MacCathlain. No idea where he is but I bet he's up to no good. Some of the people feel like he's betrayed them, but most believe he must have a plan to defeat us and liberate the vale. No one seems to know what that plan is exactly. Second, there is an actual phoenix on top of that mountain. It's as big as a house, it breathes fire and it's been there for as long as anyone can remember. Good luck with that! Third, everyone agrees there are angels in the Garden of Serenity. How many, they ain't sure, but angels. And if you make it past the labyrinth, there are probably more angels in the Cathedral. There is something powerful in this valley they believe will defeat you. It's name is Ara Mathra. I'm not sure what it is. Maybe that's the phoenix's name?"

The Knot digested this information, and ultimately came to the unanimous conclusion that the phoenix would have to be dealt with first. Kelvin was able to research some information about such creatures in the town's library, and learned that, once yearly, they were able to resurrect themselves immediately unless their bodies were completely destroyed, or unless they were slain on desecrated ground. The following morning, it was time to go to war once again...

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Knick-Knack soared invisibly upon the thermals wafting up from the lake far below, drifting ever closer towards the peak of the great mountain. His mistress had bade him to scout the spire and report back to her, but the higher he went, the more nervous the little cacodaemon became. There was power here, and it frightened him. When he finally cleared the cloud layer that ringed the peak, the first thing he saw was a brilliant white temple carved from purest marble. The beauty of it sickened him. From the structure, marble stairs wound further up the mountainside to a ring of standing stones which surrounded an immense bonfire. And there, atop the highest point of the mountain, was a nest of gargantuan proportions. Perched inside the nest was a bird of flames, and just the sight of it terrified Knick-Knack. He vanished in a puff of brimstone.

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"The bonfire first," Kelvin decided. "We were told to extinguish three eternal flames. That must be one of them."
The others agreed, and Dorian cast a prayer over himself, Katarina, Roger and Lemmy which allowed them to walk on air as if it were solid ground. Tardaesha mounted one of her zombie griffons, while Kelvin cast his own personal flight spell upon himself. Raiju and Grumblejack followed, flying under their own power.

The Mountain of the Phoenix rose over seven-hundred feet above Lake Parynthus, and the Nessian Knot managed to ascend most of that distance before disaster struck. With no warning whatsoever, the magic that held Kat, Dakota and Dorian aloft simply vanished and they began to plummet. Dakota's armor was enchanted with flight magic, though she was loathe to use it as it was only of limited duration. She had no choice. She touched an engraving of a wing that decorated her chest piece and her fall immediately arrested. Whirling in mid-air, she saw Dorian still flailing about as he streaked past her. She dove for her brother, and fortunately for him, the air walk dweomer had not failed entirely. He still fell, but at a relatively slow speed. Dakota was able to catch up with him and grab his hand as she hauled him back up with her.

The-Flame-That-Sings watched all of this transpire from the portico of the Temple of the Phoenix. She had seen the slaughter in the Vale below and had ached to fly to the aid of the people there. As Sanctum burned, her oath to Iomedae, made to atone for the past sins of her ancestors, had stayed her hand. But now the butchers had come to her mountain, and she would greet them with fire, and her song would become a battle-cry.

As Dakota pulled Dorian towards the others, a column of white fire suddenly erupted out the heavens, engulfing both of them. Katarina, who'd managed to fish a flying elixir from her belt pouch before plunging to her death, narrowly avoided the flame strike, as she was still some distance below her siblings. Fortunately for Dak and Dorian, Kelvin had cast protective spells upon them prior to ascending that warded them against fire. Yet the conflagration that struck them was not just fire. It was also pure holy power, and their flesh still burned. Kelvin altered his own flight path and swept down towards the pair. When he reached them, he grabbed Dakota's free hand and opened a dimensional door, whisking them to the landing of the temple, where he'd spied their assailant. She was a darkly beautiful woman with alabaster skin and white hair. Wings of fire sprouted from her back and she gripped a blazing scimitar in one hand.

Dakota gasped as she tried to catch her breath and assess her situation. She was wounded, though not mortally. Kelvin had saved them, but as usual, he'd put them into possibly even graver danger. She saw the flaming woman striding towards her and brought up her bow.
"Death to those who have wronged me!" Dakota shouted, invoking the power of the oathbow.
She let fly with her arrow and the shaft physically rocked The-Flame-That-Sings back on her heels. She grimaced in pain, her blood flowing like liquid fire, and then rushed towards. Dakota. The archer tried to knock another arrow, but a swift strike from the fallen angel's flaming sword disarmed her of her bow entirely. From behind her, Kelvin spoke a spell and the bow lifted from the ground and back into Dakota's hand. She fired again.
"Your sharp sticks will not save you!" The-Flame-That-Sings hissed as she raised her sword again.
"No," Grumblejack rumbled from where he'd landed behind the woman, "but I will!"
The fiendish ogre swung his greatsword in a wide arc across the her spine. She screamed and tried to turn to face him. That's when Dakota rapid-fired four more arrows.
"Suchandra," whispered The-Flame-That-Sings with her dying breath, "I have failed you. They are coming."

________________________________________________________________

The mountain top began to shake violently and a cry arose from the summit like the voice of a thousand eagles. The bonfire that burned above the temple suddenly flared into a mighty conflagration. Suddenly, the sound of great wings beating the air like thunder came to the companions of the Nessian Knot, and from out of the mists above emerged the phoenix Suchandra, The-Fire-That-Never-Dies. He was wondrous and terrible to behold. As he swooped towards those who had dared to defile his abode and threaten his sacred charge, he hurled meteors of fire before him. The companions scattered before the bombardment, but before Tardaesha could remount her zombified griffon, the creature exploded in flames. Before any of the companions could escape the temple's landing, a twenty-foot high wall of fire sprang up along it, catching Lemmy in the conflagration. Once more the Ninth owed Kelvin their lives for his forethought in warding them against fire. One-by-one they dove through the wall and took to the air again, all except for Raiju. The oni had seen enough. The Ninth Knot had offered him a good deal, and had treated him well, but it wasn't worth his life. He cloaked himself in invisibility and dove towards the foot of the mountain far below.

Kelvin didn't notice the departure of his cohort. He was too intent on the phoenix. He knew the creature was capable of strong magic, and when he saw it preparing to unleash another spell, he threw one of his own, attempting to disrupt its concentration. The ball of cold fire that he hurled simply dissipated as it struck the great bird. Kelvin held his breath, waiting for the next devastating attack. When Suchandra cast his spell, however, nothing seemed to happen. The companions looked around at one another, not sure what had transpired. Kelvin's face paled, however. He knew exactly what the phoenix had done. He'd used his magic to dispel Kelvin's own. Their fire ward was gone...


7 Abadius, 4718 - 8 Abadius, 4718 - The Garden of Serenity

"We need to fall back!" Kelvin cried.
He watched as Lemmy began plummeting towards the ground far below, his fly spell removed by the magic of the phoenix. The great bird let loose with a deafening shriek as it dove after the evil little dwarf.
"You'll hear no disputes from me," Tardaesha said.
Dakota nodded beside her twin.
"Nor me," Dorian agreed.
"The others will have to fend for themselves," Kelvin said soberly.
He gripped the hands of his siblings and cast his spell. The four of them vanished, teleporting back to Sanctum.

Roger shook his head in disgust as the Dannisters disappeared. Typical, but he wasn't about to let Lemmy die. He dove after the phoenix, calling upon his meager magic to momentarily give him a burst of speed. As he closed the distance, the flames that shrouded the creature began to sear his flesh, but he didn't slow his charge.
"By the blood of the Deceiver, I smite thee!" Roger cried.
His blade bit deep into Suchandra's flesh, and the phoenix shrieked again, wheeling in midair on his new assailant. Before he could bring his talons and beak to bear, Roger struck again, summoning all of his strength before the heat suffocated him. He drove his sword into Suchandra's great breast.

Lemmy fell away from the phoenix, his clothes smoldering. He saw his friend fighting for his life, and it caused his shriveled heart to swell with pride. Before he was out of range, he thrust out one hand and sent a blast of razor-sharp metal back up at the bird. The effort exhausted him almost to the point of unconsciousness. Then he did it again, and all went black...

High above, Katarina watched the life and death battle below. She was disappointed with her siblings, but not terribly surprised. As well hidden as she'd been among the misty clouds surrounding the mountain peak, they would not have been able to see her to take her with them. Plus Kelvin knew that, with her stealth, she would be the most capable of them to make her own escape. Still, it stung a little. She shrugged. Her father had always told her not to rely overly upon others. She would have to be her own savior...and perhaps that of Lemmy and Roger as well. She turned her head downwards and allowed herself to fall, rapidly picking up speed. The phoenix never saw her coming as she landed on his back and jammed her daggers into his spine at the base of his skull. He roared and turned to try and rip Kat from his shoulders as he barrel-rolled. Kat clung to the hilts of her blades with all her strength, then managed to pull one free and plunge into Suchandra's throat. The mighty phoenix shrieked one last time, and then crumbled to ash.

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Grumblejack swooped down and snatched Lemmy's limp form in mid-air, then he, Katarina and Roger began flying back towards Sanctum. The ogre glanced behind to see if the others were keeping up, and that's when he saw the fiery, winged shape rising from the valley below.
"We got trouble," he growled.
"Not unexpected," Kat sighed. "Kelvin warned us this would happen."
"Then let's take the fight to him this time!" Roger bellowed.

The trio whirled in mid flight and arrowed back towards the phoenix. Suchandra flared his wings back as they drew close, beating the air with scorching flames. Grumblejack was buffeted back by the force of the blast, and he lost his grip on Lemmy. Helpless, he watched the dwarf plunge into the lake below. Roger shot past the ogre, his sword gripped in both hands as he called upon the power of Asmodeus once more. Suchandra tried to backwing away, wary of the anti-paladin's might, but he was unable to gain momentum. Roger struck a telling blow, and then Grumblejack joined him, the two of them flanking the phoenix and raining down attacks from both sides. Katarina darted deftly in and out of the fray, her daggers finding the most vulnerable spots in Suchandra's defenses. He tried to bring his considerable magic to bear on his assailants, but the assault was too furious. He could not concentrate. Finally, Grumblejack severed one of his great wings completely and the mighty phoenix spun towards the lake, his body turning to ash for the final time.
"Now," Roger breathed heavily from his exertions, "let's go find Lemmy."

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While Grumblejack fished Lemmy out of the lake, Roger and Katarina flew back to the temple atop the mountain. The glistening white marble structure was covered in breathtaking bas relief showing the deeds of angels and phoenixes. An inscription above the lintel read: "Praised be Suchandra, praised be the First."
Inside was a single large chamber, and in the center of the room was a glowing crystal sphere suspended in a pedestal of marble. Thinking better of disturbing the obviously magical artifact without their resident wizard in attendance, the pair crossed quickly to a small door on the far side of the temple.

The door gave onto the outside once more, and a flight of small, narrow stairs that ascended up the side of the mountain. Following the risers, Kat and Roger soon found themselves at a great circle of white marble surrounded by eight standing stones. In the center burned a great roaring fire that produced no smoke but its great light brightened the entire top of the mountain.
"Do you suppose this is one of Guardian Flames we heard about?" Kat asked Roger.
"I'd say it fits the bill," the big half-orc shrugged.
"I've seen bigger," Kat snorted. "Let's see if we can douse all this cheery light."
Though no spellcaster herself, Kat did know a few minor cantrips taught to her by her older brother. She cast a simple one meant to drench campfires, causing a brief deluge of water to appear over the bonfire. An instant later, a massive explosion of flames engulfed the entire clearing, including Kat and Roger.

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When Kelvin and the others arrived, they found Kat, completely unscathed due to her "cat-like" reflexes, kneeling over the unconscious form of Roger, forcing a healing elixir down his throat.
"I'll take over," Dorian said, relieving his sister.
"This is one of the three Guardian Flames," Kelvin said, as he walked slowly around the great bonfire. "You should have known better than to tamper with it, Katarina."
Kat frowned. She hated it when he used her full name like he was her father. It was condescending. She bit her tongue to prevent some sharp retort about dealing with the phoenix without his help.
"The only way to extinguish this would be to desecrate this place," Kelvin continued.
"I can do that," Dorian replied.
He stood up as Dakota helped the newly-revived Roger to his feet.
"Just give me a moment."
He began a slow, chanting prayer, circling the clearing repeatedly while presenting his unholy symbol. Finally, with a burst of black smoke and brimstone, the great fire snuffed out.

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With Sanctum and the Vale secured, there was nothing left but for the Ninth Knot to make their way to the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest, which lay beyond the maze-like Gardens of Serenity. The gardens lay several miles from Sanctum, and the companions traveled on foot until the Aiden River forced them to take to the air lest they be forced to travel by boat, which Lemmy would not hear of. As they approached the gardens, a broad stone dock jutted out into the river, frequent posts positioned around it for tethering river craft. Standing on the dock were six figures clad in gleaming armor from head to toe. They each gripped flaming blades, and metallic wings sprouted from their backs.

"Halt and come no further," called one of the knights. "The Gardens are sealed, and none may approach."
"Perhaps you haven't been kept up to date on recent events," Tardaesha called back, "but the Vale of Valtaerna is under new management, and the rules have changed!"
Before the celestial archons could respond, a barrage of arrows and fireballs fell upon them, followed by a deafening war cry as the Knot charged towards them. The archons took to the air and braced for the assault, but they were quickly overwhelmed. The sheer ferocity and brute strength of the Nessians and their minions wreaked havoc. Not a one of them managed to land a telling blow before they fell, one after the other.

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Between the dock and the gardens stood a great wooden feast hall. It was a place that should have held a raucous celebration, but it sat empty and cold, its occupants all gone to war or dead defending the Vale at Saintsbridge. There was a large fire pit in the center of the chamber, and great tables and benches were arranged all around. Only one defender still remained, and she lurked deep in the shadows as the butchers entered her domain.

No sooner had the Ninth Knot entered the great hall than a wall of shimmering force appeared in their midst, splitting the group in half and separating them.
"Child's play," Kelvin sneered as he pointed one finger at the wall and sent a thin green beam into it.
The barrier disintegrated into a thousand flickering shards.
"You are clever, infidel," a low, growling voice emerged from the shadows, "but your wit will not save you."
The voice belonged to a female individual, but she was not human. She was lion-headed with golden fur, sharp teeth, and long cat-like claws on her hands and feet. She gestured with one hand and a second wall appeared just as Tardaesha began charging towards her.
"Oh I think I'll be alright," Kelvin chuckled.
He wove another spell and instantly transported himself, Raiju and Dakota directly behind the leonal. Raiju lifted his blade above her, but then she threw back her head and let out a bone-rattling roar filled with holy power. Tardaesha, Katarina and Lemmy each found themselves instantly struck blind, while Raiju and Knick-Knack were literally paralyzed with fear.

Tardaesha was still reeling from the leonal's roar, but she managed to calm herself and listen to what was going on around her. She could hear the sounds of her friends shouting and groaning, but beneath all of that there was a low rumble...almost a purring sound. She was instantly in motion, drawing and slashing in a single move with her blade. She was rewarded with a solid impact and a feline yowl of agony. From the other side of the great hall, Dakota watched her sister with pride. As the accursed celestial leaped away from Tardaesha, Dak put a pair of arrows into her. The leonal jumped ten feet into the air and landed much closer to Dakota. Dak fired three more times, but that did not stop the creature's charge. Suddenly, a fireball exploded in the midst of the hall, engulfing the leonal. Dak turned and grinned at Kelvin, who gave her a thumbs-up. Both their smiles faded a moment later, however, when the enraged celestial emerged from the flames and roared again. This time everyone in the hall was struck blind from the blast, and both of Kelvin's ear drums ruptured.

Dakota kept firing blindly, hoping some of the shafts struck home. She heard and felt the heat from another fireball, but she didn't know if Kelvin's aim was any better than her own. Finally, she felt the floor beneath her feet begin to quake and shimmy, and then there was the sound of falling debris, followed by a howl of pain and then silence. A few moments later, Dak's vision began to clear. She blinked tears out of her eyes and struggled to get her bearings. The leonal lay several feet away, buried in a mound of rocks, unmoving. Beyond stood Lemmy, rubbing at his own eyes.
"Don't need my damned eyes, long as they's walking on the ground," the dwarf growled.
"Looks like this kitty done used up the last of her nine lives."

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Labyrinth - 8 Abadius, 4718 - 9 Abadius, 4718

Beyond the hunting hall, the Ninth Knot found themselves at the entrance to a hedge maze. It was open to the sky and looked to be constructed of crude-cut field stones overgrown with moss, vines and flowers of a thousand sorts. There was something unnatural about the place....something that made it not seem quite real. The tiny motes of light that hovered in the air above the hedge only served to increase that otherworldly feel.

Katarina knelt in the dirt on the path, sniffing the air and feeling the soil.
"There are tracks here," she said after a moment. "Paw prints. Large dog or wolf I'd guess."
"I suppose we should follow them," Kelvin sighed, "unless anyone has a better idea."
They set off through the maze, Kat taking different turns and junctions seemingly at random as she kept her eyes on the packed earth.
"Kat...stop," Kelvin whispered after several minutes of this had passed.
Kat looked up at him, annoyed at the interruption, but then she saw the look of concern on his face and followed his gaze. One of the motes of light was moving towards them, flitting to and fro. When it was just a few feet above them, an eerie voice sounded in all of their heads.
'Say its name and this thing dies.'
Kelvin didn't hesitate.
"Secrecy," he replied.
The mote's light dimmed and it quickly drifted away.

Having no idea what the meaning of the strange riddle was, the companions continued following Kat's lead. They wandered for another hour or more before she stopped and threw up her hands.
"I feel like we've been here before," she said in exasperation. "I think we may be going in circles."
Before anyone else could respond, another of the motes drifted down from the trees.
'Say its name and this thing dies,' the voice repeated.
Kelvin opened his mouth to speak, but Kat motioned him quiet.
"Silence," she said.
The mote flared brightly, and abruptly the solid hedge in front of them parted, revealing a new path.

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It was Katarina who first spotted the movement in the undergrowth on either side of the path. It was furtive and flitting, there one second and then gone the next. Before she could open her mouth to warn the others, a snarling, shaggy dog the size of a small horse suddenly appeared in front of them. Just as abruptly it vanished again, only to reappear a moment later slightly behind them. As it did, it opened its mouth and unleashed a bolt of electricity that set Lemmy jittering and dancing before it vanished again.
"Look to the hedge!" Kat cried out.
As the words no sooner left her mouth, a half-dozen more dogs, smaller than the first, appeared among the companions, blinking rapidly in and out of view as they darted back and forth, biting and yipping.

In an instant, it was pure chaos. Tardaesha, Roger and Grumblejack hacked everywhere with their swords, only to have their targets vanish from beneath them at the last second. Dakota plied her bow expertly, but more often than not her arrows struck nothing but dirt and wood. Kelvin managed to let loose a fireball, excluding his friends from the flames. All of the hounds howled and whined as their fur and backsides were scorched, but they still managed to avoid the brunt of the blast. Before he could cast again, the alpha appeared right next to him, jaws stretched wide. Kelvin threw his hands up, instinctively erecting a sphere of force between himself and the beast. The great hound snarled in frustration, then turned his attention to easier pray. Opening his mouth again, he let loose a deafening bark that rattled the insides of Grumblejack and Dorian.

Abruptly, the tide of the battle began to turn. Though the dogs were fast and gifted at avoiding the most devastating blows of their opponents, eventually their wounds began to take a toll, and one-by-one, they began to fall. Katarina managed to plunge a dagger into the throat of one just as it reappeared, while Lemmy shattered the bones of another with his earthen blast. Periodically the alpha would reappear, releasing another lightning bolt or shout, but he couldn't save his brood. As the last one fell beneath the Knot, the great hound howled in rage and sorrow and dove headlong into the midst of his foes. He whirled, snarling and snapping in all directions, momentarily keeping his enemies at bay, but he could only defend all flanks for so long. The last sight he saw were the descending blades of Grumblejack and Tardaesha.
"Ara Mathra!" he bayed with his last breath. "I have failed you, my Lord! The servants of Hell are coming!"

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"They are coming," Sambethe sighed, rising to her feet.
Leaning heavily on her staff, she limped away from the large bonfire.
"It is inevitable," her companion replied, his voice as calm and implacable as ever.
"I fear we will not survive this day," Sambethe said. "I have foreseen it."
Her companion shrugged.
"Then that is our destiny," he said. "We are sworn to protect the Guardian Flame. Our sacrifice will provide the Lord-Abbot the time he needs to complete his task."
"Let us hope so, my friend," Sambethe sighed again and bowed her head.

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"One to whom the mirror never lies...," the wispy mote asked its riddle.
"This is crap!" Lemmy bellowed. "Let's just blast the damn thing then cut our way through this cursed maze!"
"I don't think it works that way," Dorian said. "I think we have to play along with this particular game. In any case, this is an easy one. The answer is a blind man."
The mote winked once and then disappeared, revealing another opening in the hedge.

Beyond the new path lay an almost radiantly green patch of grass. It was not winter here, but perpetually spring, warmed by the radiant light of the Shining Lady. A group of four-legged creatures stood grazing in the center of the clearing. With draconic scales covering much of their bodies, the stag-like beings moved with awe-inspiring grace. They looked up, nostrils flaring as the Knot entered the clearing.
"Why do you defile these sacred fields?" one of them asked indignantly. "The stink of evil is upon you all! Does the great Ara Mathra know of your intrusion?"
"If he doesn't yet," Tardaesha grinned wickedly, "I'm sure he soon will, but rest assured my pretty ponies, it won't be you that tells him!"

The Knot descended upon the kirin with violent efficiency. The creatures tried to flee, taking to the air and hurling lightning bolts down upon their pursuers, but despite their speed, they could not fly faster than magic. Kelvin sent an explosion of acid among them, and as they struggled to recover from the blast, Tardaesha and Grumblejack overtook them. The Heavenly Herd were not natural warriors. They were peaceful creatures. The same could not be said of the Nessian Knot. The slaughter was absolute.

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The mote hovered silently in air above the companions, patiently awaiting their answer.
"A wicked thing from which darkness flies," Dakota repeated. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would darkness flee from something wicked."
Kelvin snapped his fingers with a smile.
"That's it," he said. "It didn't say 'wicked.' It said 'wick'ed.'"
"That's what I said," Dakota replied.
"No," Kelvin shook his head, "wick'ed...like with a wick. The answer is a candle!"
The little orb of light pulsed once, then spoke again.
'The three at once where the answer lies.'
Then it abruptly vanished. No new path forward lay revealed, however.
"So now what?" Dakota asked no one in particular.
"Blast our way through!" Lemmy reiterated his earlier suggestion.
Kelvin glanced at the dwarf in annoyance.
"It's another riddle," he said. "The three at once...meaning the three answers: silence, a blind man, and a candle."
He thought for a moment, then said, "I have an idea. You're all going to have to trust me. All of you hold out your weapons."
The others looked dubious but complied nonetheless. Kelvin touched each one of them and spoke a short spell. As he did so, a weak flickering light, no brighter than a candle, appeared on the end of each.
"Now," he continued, "everyone close your eyes."
Skepticism again, but one-by-one the others did as he asked.
"Everyone be quiet," Kelvin said in a whispered voice. "Total silence."
Several long moments passed before he spoke again.
"Open your eyes."
The companions did so, and beheld a large glade before them that hadn't been there a moment before...and it wasn't empty.

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A large bonfire burned in the center of the clearing and two figures stood before it. One was a powerfully-built, physically perfect specimen of humanity. He wore nothing but a loose robe and sash, and moved with inhuman grace and poise. Next to him was an impossibly beautiful young woman whose beauty was only marred by one lame and twisted leg. She was clad in armor and gripped a sword in one hand, looking almost angelic herself.
"I am Sambethe," the woman said, "Oracle of Iomedae. My companion is the Master of Serenity, head of Iomedae's Serene Order. Our Lord has decreed that we hold this glade and deny you further passage."
"Yeah, we met some of your type out in the valley," Grumblejack smirked at the monk. "If serene means dead, then they was pretty damn serene when we finished with'em!"
Nothing changed on the face of the large man, but there was a palpable shift in the air. The ogre leered at him, then hefted his huge blade.
"Lemme see if I can make you more serene too!"

Grumblejack closed the distance across the clearing in a half-dozen great strides. The Master of Serenity did not so much as twitch a muscle. When the ogre reached him, his sword swung in a wide arc across the man's belly. Cloth and skin parted and blood flowed freely, but no sign of pain showed upon his face. Instead he blurred into sudden movement, faster than Grumblejack could track him. He struck the ogre once behind a knee, and when the giant sagged, he followed up with a jab to the throat. Grumblejack gurgled, and that's when the monk hammered a fist into the middle of his sternum.

Nearby, Sambethe began casting a spell, but when Kelvin hurled a barrage of arcane bolts into her, the magic died on her lips. Drawing herself up, she prepared to cast again, but Roger charged her. She tried to dodge, but her twisted leg hampered her. Roger cut across her back as she turned away. She grunted but continued moving towards the great bonfire. Roger pursued, striking her again, the force of his blow knocking her completely into the flames.

"Well that was easy," Kelvin smiled. "Now to deal with her little friend...,"
Before he could complete that thought, the Master of Serenity came leaping through the bonfire, and as he landed on the far side his terrible belly wound had sealed itself shut. Kelvin's eyes went wide and he stumbled back, but the monk was lightning-fast and he was on the wizard in a flash. He grabbed Kelvin, pinning his arms to his side and then began to squeeze. That was when Sambethe abruptly rose out of the flames, her wounds completely healed. She opened her mouth and spoke a single word, but its power reverberated across the clearing, striking Roger and Katarina blind, while also deafening Grumblejack as well as rooting the ogre to the spot, paralyzing him.

Though Grumblejack was unable to move, that did not mean he was without options. Since his fiendish transformation, the ogre had gained magical abilities which, unlike Kelvin's spells, did not require him to speak nor gesture about. All he had to do was concentrate. Though no mental giant, Grumblejack was no slouch when it came to common sense. The bonfire in the midst of the clearing looked an awful lot like the one they'd found on the mountain of the phoenix. Could be that it was another one of the eternal flames they were supposed to put out, and doing so might just distract the monk and the oracle long enough for his friends to finish them off. Focusing on the flames, Grumblejack concentrated, summoning his dark magic. A moment later a greasy black miasma settled over the bonfire, snuffing it out in an instant. The effect was instantaneous. The ground trembled slightly and the sky darkened and then turned dark and red almost as blood. Somewhere in the distance there was the sound of breaking glass.

Grumblejack was correct. The extinguishing of the guardian flame got the attention of both Sambethe and the Master of Serenity. The monk released Kelvin, but as he did so his hands moved in a blur, striking the wizard about the head, chest and abdomen no less than six times. Fortunately, Kelvin had had the foresight to place a protective spell upon him before he'd entered the clearing, rendering his skin as hard as stone. He shook off the worst of the assault, though he still felt sore and bruised. The Master then turned away and stalked towards Grumblejack. As he moved, Lemmy blasted him with a barrage of rocks and debris, but the monk didn't seem fazed despite bleeding from a dozen different places. Roger and Tardaesha made to intercept the Master, but then Sambethe unleashed a blast of radiant energy which washed over the Knot, momentarily stunning them. Tardaesha whirled back towards the oracle and rushed at her, whipping her sword over her head before bringing it down on Sambethe's shoulder. She grunted in pain and staggered back, but not before uttering another Holy Word. Tardaesha's vision went black, as did Katarina's and Lemmy's.

Dorian was far enough away from the accursed oracle that he was not affected by her blasphemous spell, but the same could not be said for her when it came to his own magic. He cast the opposite of the divine smite she'd unleashed on his friends a moment before, and the unholy blight washed over both her and the monk. To his delight and relief, Sambethe collapsed, unconscious. As it happened, the oracle was standing near to Katarina when she fell, and though blind, Kat still heard the sound. She spun on her heel and plunged her daggers in that direction, managing to drive them both into Sambethe's chest. From across the clearing the Master of Serenity watched impassively. Then, almost casually, he reached up with both hands, grabbed Grumblejack on either side of his head, and snapped his neck.
"No!" Dorian cried as his cohort fell.
The monk turned towards him, but then Roger came lunging across the battlefield. Before the Master could raise his hands to ward off the half-orc, Roger had thrust his sword up beneath the man's breast bone and twisted it. No sign of pain nor distress shown on the face of the monk. Instead he smiled peacefully and closed his eyes for the last time.


9 Abadius, 4718 - 10 Abadius, 4718 - The Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest

"We're staying here for the night," Kelvin announced to the others.
The companions were still recovering from their battle with the Master of Serenity and the oracle, Sambethe, while Dorian knelt over Grumblejack's unmoving form.
"I can bring him back," the priest said quietly. "We abandoned him once. I won't do it again, but I will have to wait until morning when I can pray for the miracle I need."
"Not to worry, little brother," Kelvin clapped him on the shoulder. "I will erect a magical shelter about us. It should shield us all from any prying eyes through the night. This close to that accursed church, I don't want to take any chances."

Once everyone's wounds had been tended, Kelvin cast his spell, creating an opaque dome that could accommodate them all. They could pass freely in and out of it, but no one could see inside where it was dimly lit and comfortably warm. As darkness fell, clouds began to form overhead, ominous and full, with flashes of lightning leaping among them and dull thunder rumbling from within. When the rain came, it fell in sleeting sheets, but none penetrated the little hut. Still, something about the storm made Kelvin uneasy.
"Did you hear that?" he asked after a particularly strong peal of thunder rolled across the sky.
"Thunder?" Lemmy paused in his drinking. "How could we not? Damn noise'll be keepin' me up all night!"
"No," Kelvin shook his head. "After that. For a moment I thought I heard a cry on the wind."
"You're jumping at shadows, brother," Tardeasha laughed. "All of this self-righteous sanctimony in which we find ourselves immersed is finally getting to you."
Kelvin let the jibe pass, but he knew he wouldn't be sleeping well either.

It was just past midnight when lightning struck the ground just outside the shelter, followed by a thunderclap so loud that the earth beneath them shook. Everyone jumped to their feet in an instant, startled out of restless slumber. The wind howled around the hut, and that's when they all heard the deafening, high-pitched shriek. The opaque plane of the dome was suddenly rent asunder as a bird the size of an elephant swooped through the top of it. Talons extended, it seized Timeon, who had rushed to Dakota's side, and disappeared through the far side of the hut. Kelvin sent a razor-sharp shard of flaming ice after it as Dakota shrieked in despair. A moment later, however, a second bird landed just inside the perimeter of the dome. Mounted on its back was a giant, fully twenty-feet in height, with violet skin and flowing white hair.
"How could anyone so tiny manage such vast acts of evil?" the giant bellowed. "No matter. After you've had a taste of my lightning you'll rue the day you turned to such deviltry! Ara Mathra was wise to call upon me. My flocks will deal with your minions back in Sanctum while I put an end to your miserable lives!"
He raised his hands above his head and electricity crackled between his fingers. Thrusting his hands forward, he sent the lightning leaping among the Ninth Knot, sizzling and burning each of them in turn. Tardaesha, her hair still standing on end, drew her sword and rushed the giant, but he swung an enormous sword that had been strapped across his back and smashed it into her while she was still over a dozen paces away. She bounced back to her feet and charged again, blood streaming from a large gash across her forehead. She ducked beneath another of the giant's swings, then thrust her own sword into his belly.

Kelvin glanced up towards where Timeon was being carried aloft, then back to where Tardaesha fought for her life. He made his decision in an instant. He flung his hands out and another flaming shard of ice lanced towards the storm giant, impaling his chest. The young mage followed this up with a fireball so powerful that it immolated the giant's roc mount before it could even think about taking wing. As the giant staggered backwards under the barrage, Roger rushed in behind him and swung his sword across both of the giant's hamstrings. With a groan, the behemoth collapsed like a fallen oak to the ground, his eyes closing as he lost consciousness. Roger drew himself up and caught his breath for a moment. That was when he heard a voice speak inside his head.
'Give him to me,' it said in cold Infernal.
The anti-paladin knew the voice of his patron instantly, and he didn't hesitate. He raised his sword again and drove it through the giant's heart.

Dakota's priorities were different. She watched as the other roc carried Timeon higher and higher.
"He belongs to me!" Dakota screamed.
She raised her bow and let fly a volley of arrows. Each of them struck true, one through the bird's eye, one through its throat and one through its breast. It shrieked, opening its claws reflexively as it spiraled out of the sky. Timeon began to fall.
"No!" Dakota cried
A moment later, however, Timeon floated gently downwards. Dakota turned and looked wide-eyed at Kelvin.
"I don't know what you see in that boy," her brother shook his head. "Yet how can I deny you, little sister?"

The clouds began to break apart and scatter, letting the light of the full moon shine down once more. As the last of them fled, more high-pitched shrieks sounded from on high. The companions looked upwards, prepared for another attack. They saw a flock of two dozen creatures winging towards them. They looked like eagle-headed horses...hippogriffs! They began to circle over their heads, faster and faster until finally a bolt of crimson lightning struck the flock from the clear sky. As it did so, their feathers turned black as midnight, and their eyes became blood-red. Horns grew from their skull and their claws became even more hooked and spiked. The taint of Hell was upon them. Roger looked up and smiled.
"You are welcome, my Lord," he said, bowing his head.

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Grumblejack opened his eyes and then grinned up at Dorian.
"What'd I miss, Boss?" he asked groggily.
"Not much," the priest shrugged, "just a storm giant and his pet rocs attacking."
"Whew!" Grumblejack said, climbing unsteadily to his feet. "Is that all? At least that means you still left me a few angels to kill."

From the clearing, a winding set of narrow stairs led up the side of the mountain to the grand facade of the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest. These were the legendary thousand steps that each prospective priest of Iomedae in the Order of Saint Marcarius had to climb. The grand facade itself was a baroque wonder of the world. It had not been carved by mortal hands, but instead by archons who adorned it with the iconography of a thousand martyrs and saints. The life-like figures all bowed in obeisance before the great and glorious undying light of Iomedae. The entrance appeared unguarded as the Knot approached. Fortunately for them, Kelvin had armed himself that morning with a spell capable of seeing the unseen. He raised one hand to stop the others.
"There are three individuals waiting up there," he whispered. "Angels all, and they're carrying flaming swords."
"Then by all means, let's not keep them waiting any longer," Tardaesha smiled.
"Wait!" Kelvin shouted, but it was too late.
Tardaesha was already on the move, and the others were following her lead, but Kelvin had seen the angels casting spells, and he knew exactly what they were doing. He tried to interrupt one of them by loosing magic missiles in its direction, but his spell fizzled before it ever touched the angel. The celestials were highly resistant to magic.

Tardaesha, Katarina and Roger rushed up the last of the stairs just as the three angels appeared. As Tardaesha raised her sword to strike the nearest one, she suddenly felt all of the protective magical wards she normally carried upon her just...vanish. Even her enchanted blade felt heavier in her hands. It was as if magic had stopped working altogether. That fact didn't seem to bother the angel as it slammed one gauntleted fist into her chest. She reeled backwards and could see that Roger and Kat were having the same problems. Though the angels did not seem to be able to use their own magic either, their sheer physical might was still impressive.
"Fall back!" Tardaesha shouted.
As she did so, however, she heard the twang of bowstrings behind her. Several arrows pierced the breastplates of the angels and the accursed creatures cried out in pain. Tardaesha turned and saw Dakota and Timeon standing behind her. Their bows seemed to have retained their magical properties. That's when it hit her. Whatever was blocking her own enchantments must have a limited area of effect.
"Keep firing!" she cried.
Dakota and Timeon were only to happy to oblige. As they continued to pepper the angels, Grumblejack joined Tardaesha and Roger. The trio were still formidable, even without their magic, and with Katarina's stealthy maneuvering behind the celestials, striking and retreating, it didn't take long for them to fall, along with their anti-magic field.

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Roger pushed open the doors of the cathedral to reveal a great open hall covered in frescoes that depicted countless saints in Iomedae's service. The ceiling rose high overhead, ending in ornately vaulted panels adorned with art that could only be called masterpiece. It showed Iomedae as the light of the sun, the wrath of the fire and the warmth of a mother's love. It expressed more eloquently than a library full of books on theology the true meaning of what it meant to worship and revere the great goddess of light and life. The members of the Nessian Knot were not impressed. They were actually disappointed that the entirety of the cathedral was made of worked stone, which would make it that much more difficult to burn to the ground. They were, however, unsurprised to see that the entrance was not unguarded.

A half-dozen legion archons, similar to those the Knot had encountered on the docks, stood arrayed before them, barring passage deeper into the cathedral.
"Zealots," Kelvin sighed. "They can be so tedious."
He and Dorian proceeded to unleash twin fireballs upon the celestial guardians, while Lemmy started blasting earth and stone at them. Roger, Tardaesha, and Grumblejack waded in as Dakota and Timeon provided ranged support, and Katarina darted into the shadows, only to reappear behind the angels, ready to strike at their unprotected flanks.
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Taranea of the Ghaele, known as the Emissary in White, heard the sounds of conflict outside her door. She had originally come to the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest to consult with Ara Mathra about the rising influence of Asmodeus and his minions in Talingarde. It had been her hope that something could be done before it was too late, but before she could even speak with the deva, the Vale of Valtaerna had been attacked. Taranea had been specifically ordered not to interfere in that conflict by the great lords of the azata. Still, to ignore the slaughter that had transpired had pained her greatly. She could have left days ago, but instead she had remained, waiting, unsure of what to do if the enemy got this far. She had been pacing her room, anxious to disobey her orders, when the fighting broke out literally on her doorstep. She knew what she had to do.

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Kelvin watched the carnage with a smile upon his face. The so-called angels were no match for his friends and kinsmen. They would grind the servants of Iomedae beneath their heels at every turn, and that prospect made him exceedingly happy. He was still lost in his thoughts when a flicker of movement caught his eye. A door had somehow been opened on the other side of the hall, and Kelvin saw a beautiful woman, clad all in white, fly from the room on great feathered wings. The others paid her no heed, and Kelvin realized that was because she was invisible. As the new arrival hovered over the melee and prepared to cast a spell, Kelvin hurled a magic missile barrage her way...only to see them simply vanish before they got within ten feet of her. Cursing himself for forgetting the damnable aura more powerful angels surrounded themselves with, he followed up his attack with a blindingly fast spear of cold ice. The angel screamed and recoiled as the spear pierced her belly. Everyone on both sides of the conflict looked up at once at the sound of the disembodied cry. Then a pair of slashes opened across Dorian's chest as Taranea appeared, her greatsword dripping blood from where it had gashed the priest. Taranea glared at Kelvin, her own golden blood pouring down her tabard. She rushed at him, sword upraised. In a panic, Kelvin hurriedly erected an impenetrable force field around himself. Taranea slammed into it, driving the air from her lungs. She hammered at the barrier in rage, but it would not yield. A snarl on her lips, she turned back to the battle....only to see that everyone of the archons was down. She bowed her head against her blade and prayed for forgiveness to Iomedae for her failure. As the servants of Asmodeus closed upon her, she had time to think that perhaps she should have just followed her orders


10 Abadius, 4718 - Ghost Martyrs

A search of the quarters of the Emissary in White by Katarina turned up several exquisite gowns of gossamer and silk, along with jewelry wrought from fey amber. Hidden beneath the clothing, Kat also found a hand-written missive from someone named Brigit of the Brijindine addressed to Taranea. It was short and to the point, expressing concerns about Asmodeus' agents in Talingarde.
"You don't know the half of it," Kat chuckled to herself

Another door off the foyer had a truly amazing lock on it, but to Kat's surprise, it hung open, almost as if the occupant had left in too much of a hurry to latch it back. The room itself appeared to be the bedchamber of an important member of the church hierarchy thought it was unoccupied. The only thing of interest that Kat came upon was a family bible sitting on a writing desk. She flipped through it, trying to see if contained any hidden coins, but what actually fell out was a small journal. She took it to Kelvin, as she knew he always wanted to read any little scrap they came across. Kat always thought how stupid it was for their enemies to keep journals or diaries. It was almost like they actually wanted their plots and schemings to be discovered. Kelvin perused the diary for several minutes, and then he smiled broadly.

"With the death of the Phoenix," he read aloud, "the blessed Ara Mathra has retreated to the Holiest of Holies and has called forth a conflagration no mortal nor devil nor even an angel can cross. I know some of the men believe that this reveals him a coward. But I know the truth. He must survive or all is lost. If even one of the three sacred flames survives, then all can be rekindled. The Order of St. Macarius will weather this storm and emerge all the stronger for it. No one suffers more than he. I see this. He agonizes that he must remain here and guard the Undying Flame. Cowardice? Hah! Who amongst us is strong enough to do what he does now? It would be base anger that drives him to slay the evil-doers that assault us. Instead he has taken the victory from them. They cannot win. The slaughter of Saintsbridge has earned them nothing but damnation. Only a saint could pierce the flame! I've tarried here too long. I must return to my prayers. Soon the ghost-martyrs will rise and I will take back Valtaerna. Beware you sons and daughters of darkness! I, Earnan MacCathlain, come for you!"
Kat just shrugged when Kelvin finished reading. Stupid do-gooders. Always the architects of their own destruction.

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Just off the foyer, Katarina found two small shrines, one devoted to Iomedae's aspect of the comforter and healer, and the other to her aspect of the great warrior and leader of Talingarde. Both of these were quickly and utterly defiled by her friends.

A flickering light could be seen emanating from the far end of the main hall that led from the foyer. The companions made their way towards it cautiously, and found the source to be a wall of flames that burned furiously and blocked the way forward. The heat from it was so intense that none of them could approach within twenty feet without being scorched. There was no way past, through or around it.
"This must be the conflagration that the abbott referred to in his diary," Dorian remarked.
" 'Only a saint could pierce the flame,' " Kelvin mused. "Now what could that mean?"

With no way forward, Kat ducked into the last two rooms they could access off the hall. One appeared to be nothing more than a preparatory chamber for processions and ceremonies, but the other proved to be quite interesting. It was another shrine, but not one dedicated to Iomedae. Instead, it honored Saint Macarius, before whom the worship of Iomedae was unknown in Talingarde. It was he who spread the light to every corner of the isle. It was also he who converted Darius to the worship of Iomedae, and thus changed the island's destiny. But there was more to the shrine than just a biography. The reliquary also contained artifacts from the life of the saint, including his walking stick, his sash, his phylactery and his holy book. Kat scooped all of these into a sack, and then paused to spit on the shrine before taking her leave.

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With the great wall of flames barring their way forward, the Knot had no option but to take one of the spiral staircases from the foyer down into the bowels of the cathedral. They found themselves in an empty room adorned with murals showing a procession of priests carrying the blessed dead to be interred in ossuaries. There was an inscription hidden amongst the engravings, written in Celestial.
"In our darkest hour, the martyrs shall answer the tears of the blessed," Dorian read. "Hmm. I wonder if this is some reference to the 'ghost-martyrs' mentioned in the abbott's diary. I, for one, am not anxious to see the results of whatever it is he is up to."

Across a hallway from the landing was an open archway. Above it was a number 2. The room beyond it was filled with bones.
"An ossuary," Dorian explained. "The abbott's diary said something about needing the bones of a saint to pass the flames. I guess here is as good a place to start looking as any."
As the companions set about sifting through the bones, looking for any signs that would mark one as saintly, none of them noticed as the temperature in the room began to drop.
"Thou art forbidden in these catacombs," a hollow voice abruptly intoned from behind them. "Depart or face our wrath."
The group turned and saw three ghostly knights hovering in the air above the bones, each wielding a great sword.
"Is that a fact?" Tardaesha asked with a lovely smile on her face. "We don't take kindly to being ordered around by talking corpses."
"You were warned," the ghost martyr replied.

The knights drifted forward, reaching out towards Roger and Tardaesha, who moved to intercept them. The hands of the ghosts passed effortlessly through the armor of the warriors, their corrupting touch searing the vulnerable flesh beneath. Tardaesha and Roger fought back, but their own weapons passed through the incorporeal bodies of the knights. Still, the undead soldiers seemed to feel the effects of the blows, as they would reel away, their forms looking a bit more ragged. The tide quickly turned when Dakota and Timeon opened fire with their bows, using arrows dusted with ghost salt. The shafts pierced the spirits as if they were still made of flesh and blood, and the battle was over in moments.

___________________________________________________________________

After their encounter with the ghost martyrs, the Knot decided to avoid searching any other ossuaries they came across in the catacombs. They did discover a large shrine, however, that commemorated all of those who had sacrificed themselves for the ideals of Saint Macarius, as well as the life of the order's founder and first martyr, Saint Macarius himself. The shrine contained a small marble statue of Saint Macarius, dressed in a traveller's robe with a plain wooden holy symbol. He was clearly a militant cleric, as he was depicted carrying a mace and there was evidence of chainmail beneath his robes. Every inch of the shrine was adorned by bas reliefs showing the deeds of the Saint and how he discovered the Vale of Valtaerna and became the first priest to solve the riddle of the sacred flames.

Macarius came to the Vale drawn there by the whispered words of an angel of Iomedae. He found the Vale uninhabited by men but illuminated by a strange light atop a mountain. He climbed the Mountain of the Phoenix and faced the great fiery beast itself without fear. He pledged that he and his followers would forever guard the sacred vale. Thus did he appease the Guardian Flame. Macarius then found the way through the labyrinth and placed his hand in the Beneficent Flame whereupon he was restored from some unnamed affliction...a thorn of the flesh. Macarius pledged that he would share his gift of healing with all in need. Thus did he appease the Beneficent Flame. He found the undying flame in a cave beyond the labyrinth. There he communed with the angel Ara Mathra. The angel asked him the true test, and he answered it honestly and correctly. He pledged that his Order would bind its fate to the Flame Undying, and Ara Mathra became his teacher. Saint Macarius established the order and lived a life full of great deeds. He died a martyr and was interred in the cathedral, where he still awaited his chance to again serve.

None of this drivel made an impression on the Knot. Roger smashed the statue to rubble before they continued their search. Beyond the shrine was a chamber stacked with old records and carefully catalogued books and scrolls. A great open tome sat upon a pedestal in the center of the room, which Dakota and Kat approached with interest. It appeared to be a list of all of those who had been interred over the years. All of those who received such an honor had to have cast at least three divine spells from Iomedae in their lifetime.
"Hmph," Dakota snorted. "I cast that many spells before taking my morning piss!"
She casually flipped over the pedestal, dumping the book on the floor. No sooner had it fallen, than three of the ghostly knights rose up from the floor.
"Ugh!" Dak groaned. "Can't you boys take a joke?"
The ghosts, apparently, could not. They issued no warning this time. They charged silently into the trespassers and defilers, swinging their ephemeral blades and reaching out with their spectral hands. Still, their efforts ultimately amounted to naught. The 9th Knot quickly managed to overwhelm and destroy them...at least temporarily. Dakota lowered her bow and then glanced down at the book she'd tossed aside.
"Just for that," she said, reaching for it, "I'm keeping this."

________________________________________________________________

The companions bypassed several more ossuaries before pausing before one in particular. It wasn't the ossuary itself that drew their attention, but rather an archway on the far side that was filled with white mist, obscuring whatever lay beyond. Dorian raised his hands to his mouth and puffed out his cheeks to blow out his breath while uttering a prayer. A strong gust of wind flowed across the room and parted the mists, revealing a spartan room. Seated in the center of it was what appeared to be a little girl. She turned her head to stare at the intruders, revealing her eyes to be white orbs without pupils. As she rose to her feet, a trio of ghost martyrs appeared around her. At a gesture from her, they flew towards the companions.

Two of the spectral knights closed on Dorian, reaching their hands through his chest, causing his heart to momentarily seize. The young girl strode into the ossuary, opened her mouth, and spoke one word. As she uttered it, her form morphed and changed into that of a brazen-skinned, six-winged angel wielding a flaming sword. This was She-Forever-Silent, consort of Ara Mathra. In better times, she would have been in his company, but since the calamity of Saintsbridge and invasion of the Vale, he had sequestered himself in the Holy of Holies. He waited for something, though she was not sure what. Even the jovial Earnan MacCathlain, whose endless stories she used to sit and listen to, had fled into the hidden part of the lower level, trying desperately to call up the dead. She was now alone and, as she had ever been, silent. She had considered leaving, but something kept her from it. So she remained, waiting for something to occur. With every passing day, however, and every defeat she began to suspect that nothing could be done. She felt the phoenix die and the two sacred flames extinguish. She knew what tragedies had been inflicted upon the Vale and its people, and she as resolved to avenge it. The power of her spoken word rippled across the ossuary and struck blind her enemies . The time for vengeance had arrived.

Roger and Tardaesha still fought, despite their blindness. Their intensive martial training had taught them not to rely overly on any single one of their senses. They listened to the sounds around them, felt subtle shifts in the air nearby, and even smelled the sickeningly sweet cloy that emanated from the angel. As the ghost martyrs engaged them, the anti-paladins struck in coordinated unison, obliterating one of the knights in and instant. Dakota, too, had trained blindfolded on many occasions, and could easily shoot a dove on the wing from fifty yards away. She turned and fired towards where she'd last seen the angel, and was satisfied to hear a grunt of pain in that direction.

Dorian fled blindly from the chamber, his injuries weakening him. Grumblejack saw his friend's retreat, the ogre's fiendish heritage having rendered him resistant to the angel's assault. He turned to follow Dorian, seeing one of the ghosts pursuing the priest. He caught the specter just before it reached out to siphon Dorian's life, perhaps for the last time. With a roar of rage, Grumblejack slashed his huge blade completely down the center of the ghost, and it dissipated with a low groan.

Gradually the vision of the other companions of the Knot began to clear...just in time for She-Forever-Silent to engulf them all in a column of holy fire. Tardaesha gritted her teeth agains the pain and struck out as another of the ghost's rushed towards her. The martyr dissolved as her sword passed through it. Next to her, Dakota kept firing at the angel, trying to keep the celestial b**%& distracted and off-balance. It worked. Too late, the angel saw Grumblejack rushing towards her. Before she could react, the big ogre seized her in a rib-crushing bear hug. Though she grimaced in pain, no sound came from her throat. Instead she lifted one hand and slammed her fist into the side of Grumblejack's head. He grunted, but held his grip.
"This way, boy!" Lemmy called out.
Grumblejack looked and saw the dwarf pointing his direction. Nodding, he spun, putting the angel between himself and Lemmy. Lemmy opened his palm and sent a blast of rock and metal into her back, ripping the golden flesh in a dozen places. She writhed in agony, but she couldn't free herself from the ogre's crushing grip. Roger and Kat charged her simultaneously and buried their blades into her again and again until she finally slumped, unmoving, forever silent.

​​


10 Abadius, 4718 - Dannister Down

"Come no further, serpents! Her judgement cometh, and that right soon!"
The Ninth Knot stood just outside a chamber in the catacombs that was not unoccupied, as all of the other ossuaries had been. Instead, three priests of Iomedae and a half-dozen holy warriors were hold up inside. They seemed to know exactly whom they were up against, but that fact did not give them pause.
"For Asmodeus!" Lemmy cried, and charged into the room blasting.
"Since when did he become so pious?" Dakota asked Roger.
"Since it gave him an excuse to kill indiscriminately," the half-orc grinned.
The others followed behind Lemmy, the die having already been cast. A warrior lay dead on the floor before the dwarf already, and the others were closing in on him. He formed his rock and metallic shards into the form of a massive hammer and hurled it at the foremost one, dropping him in his tracks. Roger and Grumblejack each took out another one, leaving just two of the warriors still standing. At that moment the priests simultaneously unleashed prayers of pure holy power to smite their enemies. The blast struck Grumblejack temporarily blind, but before the clerics had a chance to celebrate their small victory, Kat appeared out of the shadows from behind them and slit the throat of the nearest. As another one turned towards her, she thrust her dagger between his ribs and he fell with a wet gurgle. The last priest was hurled into the wall behind him as Lemmy blasted him from point-blank range. The remaining holy warriors were quickly dealt with by Roger and Grumblejack after he'd regained most of his sight.

The only thing in the chamber, which was apparently what the priests had been guarding, was a small shrine to Iomedae upon which had been inscribed three aphorisms:
“Give not into greed for it rots the soul and withers the vine. Amongst the humble shall ye find the worthy. ”
“Despair ye mighty! For by your power and arrogance have ye fallen into darkness. Not amongst the lords of the earth but amongst the servants shall ye find the worthy. ”
“Beware thy enemy for he stalks you like a wicked serpent ready to consume ye with fire. The worthy knows his foe – his ways and tongues. Amongst those unafraid to speak the enemy's name shall ye find the worthy. ”
Dakota shook her head and scoffed before loosening her belt and urinating upon the shrine.

________________________________________________________________

The next room was adorned with countless intricately carved figures bowing before the glory of Iomedae. On the southern wall were the great lords of the earth, kings and dukes, knights and warriors. On the northern wall were the peasants – a farmer, a smith, a merchant, a fishermen and a shepherd. On the eastern wall bowed the priests in all their regalia from humble friars all the way up to the great Cardinals, princes of the church. They all bowed in obeisance before a great Iomedaen sunburst. Centered in the eastern wall just below the sunburst was a small niche, upon which lay a silver and sapphire holy symbol.

"There is magic here," Kelvin warned, sniffing the air. "Necromancy."
Kat nodded absently, and then went about examining the walls, staying clear of the niche and holy symbol.
"There's also this," she announced triumphantly as she reached out to press a small stud hidden in the image of one of the peasants. It clicked, and then a section of wall slid aside to reveal a hidden passage.
"Well done," Roger smiled, clapping her on the back as he reached out to grab the holy symbol.
'No, wait!" Kat cried. "I haven't had a chance to check it...!"
Too late. No sooner had the half-orc's hand closed around the pendant than a flash of black fire raced up his arm and coursed through his body. He jittered and jerk for several moments before he could release the holy symbol, his hand smoking and charred.
"Idiot," Kat cursed under her breath. "Why don't you stick to gutting things with that pig-sticker of yours and leave the scouting to your betters?"
Roger hissed painfully between clenched teeth until Dorian tended his wounds, then nodded grudgingly.
"Lesson learned," he muttered.
"Somehow I doubt that," Kat snorted.

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The hidden passage led to yet another shrine, one dedicated to a martyr named Saint Angelo the Wise. Saint Angelo was a cardinal of the Iomedaen faith and also a powerful spellcaster. In his time (which was more than a hundred and fifty years ago) he led a campaign to destroy every devil on the isle of Talingarde. He almost succeeded. In the shrine was kept a tally of his accomplishments. The number of devils he slew was truly terrifying. In Saint Angelo's lifetime he slew one hundred and eight devils ranging from the smallest imp to his greatest victory against a pit fiend known only as Hekkazar. He even fought alongside the also sainted Cynthia-Celeste (who established the abbey in Farholde). This shrine had an inscription in celestial that the Knot found interesting: “Saint Angelo travelled the world extinguishing the fires of hell. In his time he captured many tools of the wicked. Most he destroyed but a few he could not unmake and so he saw them safely put aside. Behind the Angels in Iron they are forever kept safe. ”

A hallway beyond the shrine ran past another ossuary, as well as an empty chamber which held a mural of a great king ordering the building of shrines and temples to Iomedae. At his command knights, architects, masons, stone cutters and laborers worked tirelessly to glorify the Shining Lady. Above the king was an inscription:
“Attend my servants! Who is a greater lord than I?”
"More puzzles and traps," Kat sighed as she examined the mural.
After a moment she tapped the letter 'e' in 'servant' and then nodded in satisfaction.
"Disarmed," she announced.
"Tasks and tests set before the new clergy, no doubt," Dorian said. "Only the worthy would be able to advance past them."
"Or just the damned clever," Kat grinned.

They crossed through another ossuary, one apparently reserved for priests who had, at least once in their lives, returned the dead to life. Kat wanted to search it, but Dorian reminded her about the ghostly paladins and told her they couldn't waste time on such nonsense. Kat reluctantly agreed. The corridor they'd been following abruptly ended at a chamber that appeared to be largely empty and featureless. What few adornments to be seen showed priests of Iomedae studying and engaged in scholarly pursuits. From an archway on the far side came the sound of soft chanting.
"Come to us, O martyrs, in this our darkest hour."
It repeated again and again. Cautiously, Dakota approached the arch. As she drew closer, she saw an inscription written in Celestial above the lintel.
"Who is thy enemy? Who is the lord of the nine? Know him as he knows himself or be consumed with fire."
Before she could really consider the meaning of the scripture, her eyes were drawn to the room beyond. It appeared to be some sort of private library. Stacked everywhere were books and records. Further, upon one of the tables sat a glass coffin and inside was the incorruptible corpse of Saint Macarius himself. Yet that was not what had gotten Dak's attention. Instead it was the large man that knelt in prayer before the casket. He looked as if he would stand well-over ten feet in height. He wore silver breast plate, and a large shield lay close at hand. A gleaming sword hung from his belt. He turned his bearded face towards Dakota, and his eyes glowed like golden fire. The symbol of Iomedae that hung from around his neck burned like the sun in miniature. He rose slowly to his feet, and as he did so, Dakota's heart quailed. She took an involuntary step backwards, her hand going to her mouth at the frightful aspect of Lord Abbott Earnan MacCathlain that stood before her.

"Stand back, girlie," Lemmy growled, shouldering Dakota aside. "If yer too afraid to look at the big, bad sun-priest, then let a dwarf show ya how it's done!"
Grinning through his beard he hurled a barrage of earth and stone at MacCathlain, but no sooner had the debris left his hands than three ghost martyrs emerged from the walls and lunged for him and Dakota, as well as Dorian, who'd come up from behind. The ghosts' touch pierced the armor of the three as if it were made of paper, withering the flesh beneath. A moment later the Lord Abbott's booming voice called out in prayer, and a wall of whirling blades appeared amidst the trio, ripping and slashing into them.

Kat leaped at one of the ghosts, knowing that her attacks would be largely ineffective, but still hoping to distract its attention away from her siblings. Her gambit worked as the spirit turned to engage her, allowing Dakota and Timeon to put several ghost-salted arrows into its back. A moment later, Roger, Grumblejack and Lemmy had joined her, helping her to keep the ghosts at bay. Dorian took the opportunity to stagger away from the fight, weakened as he was by the combined assault of the ghosts and the blade barrier. That was was exactly the moment that MacCathlain unleashed a holy-powered prayer upon all of the companions, smiting them where they stood. As they were blasted aside by the spell, Dorian struck one wall...hard. He crumpled to the floor and lay still.

The first of the ghost martyrs went down under the archers' assault, and then Roger dispatched a second one. The last one managed to grab Lemmy once more before Timeon put an arrow through its eye, sending it back to Iomedae. The Knot turned as one towards the Lord Abbott, just as he called down a column of holy fire upon them, catching Dakota and Roger's cohort, Al in the brunt of the blast.
"Help Dorian!" Dakota shouted, slapping the little dwarf hard on the back.
Al nodded and started across the room as Dakota returned fire at MacCathlain, putting an arrow into his shoulder. Al reached Dorian and knelt beside the unconscious priest.
"He's still alive!" Al shouted triumphantly.
"Something I intend to remedy immediately," MacCathlain growled.
He spoke another prayer, and a second flamestrike descended upon both Al and Dorian. When the flames abated, nothing remained of the two but smoking ash.

Dakota opened her mouth to scream Dorian's name, but then an icicle the size of a longsword sprouted from her chest. It instantly vanished again, but the damage had been done. Blood flowed freely. She glanced up at MacCathlain to see cold mist still rising from his outstretched hand.

For her part, Kat took a more practical approach. Though Dorian's death was shocking, if the rest of them didn't want to join him they were going to have to do something about that damnable priest. She crept stealthily through the gloom of the chamber, clinging to the shadows as if they were a second skin. She reached the Lord Abbott just as he began casting another prayer. Before he could complete the incantation, she drove her dagger into into his back. He bellowed in pain and turned his glowing eyes upon her. When Kat met his gaze, her bowels turned to jelly and she turned and fled back into the gloom.

Timeon knelt next to Dakota, and when MacCathlain turned his attention to Kat, the young squire let fly his arrow. It struck the priest in the neck. He reeled for a moment before regaining his balance, but by that time Roger had reached him. The big half-orc thrust his sword upwards, smiting the Lord Abbott with the power of Asmodeus. MacCathain doubled over, bleeding heavily. He knew his time was just about done. He turned his fearsome mien upon Roger and, just for a moment, the anti-paladin quailed. He stepped back, but then three arrows fired from behind him and took MacCathlain through the heart. He groaned and sagged to his knees, shrinking as he died. Roger looked behind him, prepared to thank Timeon for his timely intervention, only to see Dakota sitting propped up on the squire, but with her bow still in her hands.

______________________________________________________________

Grumblejack hefted Dorian's still-smoldering remains over his shoulder. There was nothing else for it. He had been their only priest, and neither the anti-paladins nor the inquisitor could raise the dead. No, Dorian had been a friend to Grumblejack and so the ogre took it upon himself to carry him on to the conclusion of their mission.

The bones that the Lord Abbott had been standing watch over were indeed those of Saint Macarius. When Dakota first grabbed them triumphantly from their sarcophagus, she shrieked and dropped them a moment later, her hand smoking and scorched. Katarina solved the problem by carefully raking the holy artifacts into an extra-dimensional bag of holding using the blade of her dagger. Among the books in MacCathlain's private library was a tome that revealed the secret of the three sacred flames of the Vale. Any petitioner who could complete the three-fold test of the fires would become a divine spellcaster of Iomedae. Thus, by extinguishing the flames, the Knot would be able to deprive the Iomedaens of a fresh supply of priests. There was also a journal written by Saint Angelo amid the stacks, which detailed the building of some sort of vault. There was a cryptic message at the end of the excerpt: "The vault is sealed with the names of the first, the teacher, the founder and the maker."

The vault itself was not difficult to find, as it lay just beyond the library. The huge door was covered in celestial script that read, "By the four names, cursed be he who unleashes what is bound within."
That was not the most obvious conundrum, however. The problem was with the pair of imposing metal statues of angels which stood before the door and animated to life when the Knot approached. Immediately each of them breathed out a cloud of toxic green gas from their mouth holes. Dakota inhaled the mist and began choking and gagging, a terrible weakness suffusing her body. As the golems loomed over her, her companions sprang to her defense. The mithral guardians struck with the force of battering rams, but the combined might of the Nessian Knot was more than a match for them. They beat back the golems until they lay in gleaming, mithral pieces.

"This seems easy enough," Kelvin said, reading the inscription on the door. "I assume the first refers to the original occupant of this vale, which was the phoenix. So, Suchandra. The teacher was the angel who mentored Saint Macarius, Ara Mathra. The founder was old Macarius himself, and the maker is Saint Angelo, the one who created the vault."
No sooner had he spoken the final name than the vault door swung ponderously open.

The large vault was filled with various items taken from Asmodean temples and holy sites across Talingarde. The religious paraphernalia included holy symbols, sacred athame, robes, and helms, and included many wonderfully wicked items of infernal workmanship. Three items in particular drew the attention of the Knot. The first was an ornate chalice decorated with numerous bloodstones.
"Ah, this must be what the vampire prince wanted so badly," Kelvin smiled, lifting the cup.
The second item was a full length mirror made of bone and obsidian. When Kelvin peered into it, he saw two skeletal-looking fiends peering back out at him...bone devils! Upon closer inspection he saw that they actually seemed to be sleeping...or dead. Though intriguing, he had no time to determine the purpose of the mirror. He had Grumblejack tuck it into a holding bag for further study once they'd completed their work in the Vale. The final item was a blade of black iron engraved with infernal glyphs. It had not hilt, but its tang was wrapped in leather so that it might still be wielded. Roger felt strangely drawn to the sword, and when he wrapped his hand around it he heard a sinister voice whisper inside his head.
"Remake me," Helbrand said.


10 Abadius, 4718 - 8 Pharast, 4718 - Dies The Fire

The Nessian Knot, minus Dorian, returned to the upper level of the cathedral and to the massive wall of flames that sealed off the Holiest of Holies. Katarina, since she was fleetest of foot, took the thigh bone of Saint Angelo and approached the fire. While she was still twenty feet away the heat began to singe her hair and redden her skin. The closer she came, the more intense the heat became. Just before she felt like she might undergo spontaneous combustion, she reached the wall and touched the bone to the fire. Instantly the wall vanished.

Beyond the wall lay a great, star-shaped chamber. A final bonfire burned in its center, and before it stood a beautiful gold-skinned angel, a golden morningstar gripped in one hand. He rose to his full height as the Nessians entered the chamber, but he did not speak. A single tear fell from his right eye and rolled down his cheek. He did not cry for those who had fallen in battle against the villains and their horde. Those valiant martyrs had already left the world and beyond this veil of tears they dwelt now forever in paradise. He wept for those who still suffered at the hands of evil. He wept for those deluded into following the way of the wicked. Behind him, the five stained glass windows which surrounded the room suddenly rippled with movement as the knights and saints portrayed within them abruptly stepped out of their frames and onto the floor to flank the mighty Ara Mathra.

"Well now it's a party!" Lemmy laughed.
Kelvin didn't echo the dwarf's mirth. He knew that the angel was not a foe to be trifled with. He had to be put down quickly and decisively. The wizard cast a spell, and the entirety of the chamber was filled with a storm of sleet and freezing, icy rain. Ara Mathra casually raised one hand and the storm vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
"I've got this," Grumblejack hissed between clenched teeth.
Before Kelvin could warn him, the big ogre lumbered into the room, but no sooner had he crossed the threshold than he doubled over in agony, his body wracked with spasms.
"There is a forbiddance upon the room," Kelvin said. "We can pass, but we will pay a price."
Grumblejack took a clumsy swing at one of the glass golems before retreating back to his comrades, still shaking and twitching. Katarina darted in, clenching her jaw against the terrible pain. She headed for the shadows, but Ara Mathra tracked her every movement. She cursed silently. Ignoring her for the moment, however, Ara Mathra instead raised one clenched fist above his head. Golden light gathered around it and he hurled it towards the door, where it exploded amidst Lemmy, Roger and Grumblejack, knocking them from their feet. Lemmy quickly rolled back to his and sent a stony blast towards one of the glass golems that was closing in on them. Grumblejack stood up as well and charged back into the room, bellowing as he passed through the forbiddance, but then swinging his sword through the golem with such force that the creature shattered into a thousand pieces. Roger followed close on Grumblejack's heels, wincing as he leaped across the forbiddance. As the other stained glass constructs closed rapidly towards him, Kat stepped out of the darkness and slashed at one of them. Roger turned to meet that one just as it swung its oddly flattened sword at him. When the glass blade struck him, it cut deep into his flesh and the wound began to bleed profusely. Roger grimaced and cursed as he backed away, but before the golem could press its attack, Kat appeared again, hacking and stabbing with her dagger like a dervish. The golem fell into shards beneath her assault.

Kelvin wasn't about to enter that room. Furthermore, he knew that his spells would be largely useless against the magic resistant golems. Still, there were a few tricks up his sleeves. He spoke the words to a spell which transformed one of his patented fireballs into a ball of exploding ice. When he hurled it amidst the golems, it slowed their movements considerably. He followed this up with a glitterdust charm, releasing a cloud of sparkling debris into the air around the golems and blinding one of them from the sudden burst of light. But then Ara Mathra spoke, and the Word that he uttered carried such power that it struck Lemmy, Roger and Katarina blind, deafening the younger Dannister as well. Lemmy didn't seem bothered by his sudden loss of vision. His link to all things of the earth allowed him to sense the tremors beneath his feet produced by the heavy steps of the glass golems. He pinpointed the nearest one and released a blast in that direction, smiling in satisfaction at the sound of breaking glass. Roger and Grumblejack were not overly troubled either. Both warriors were trained to fight without benefit of all their senses. As they heard the remaining golems moving around them, they both struck out reflexively. Though the creatures managed to score one or two glancing blows, the ogre and anti-paladin were more than a match for them and soon had them both in pieces.

Gradually Lemmy's vision returned, and he saw Ara Mathra hovering in the air above him and his comrades.
"There ye are!" Lemmy laughed. "Right were I want ye!"
He loosed his rock storm, only to see most of the debris bounce harmlessly off the angel's golden hide. Ara Mathra paid him no heed. Instead he turned towards Grumblejack and, just as the ogre was rubbing his eyes clear, struck him with his morningstar. Grumblejack grunted and staggered backwards, but with a snort of resolution, he lunged forward again, slashing at the angel. Roger joined him a moment later, and between the two of them they forced Ara Mathra to give ground. The angel spoke another holy word, but that time Grumblejack's fiendish heritage protected him from the prayer.
"In the name of Father Asmodeus," the ogre bellowed, drawing himself up to his full height, "I smite you!"
He brought his sword down with both hands upon Ara Mathra, and the angel collapsed to one knee beneath the withering blow. Roger heard the impact and rushed forward, swinging his sword blindly but still managing to land telling blows. Ara Mathra swung his morningstar again, taking Grumblejack full in the belly, but as he started to regain his feet, Lemmy loomed behind him. This time the dwarf changed his rocks and stones to shards of razor-sharp metal and sent them whirring at the angel. Ara Mathra collapsed to the floor, golden blood pouring from him. As the light finally left his eyes and he breathed his last, he spoke once more.
"It will be the son who brings your doom."

________________________________________________________________

As Grumblejack extinguished the last of the three sacred flames, Kelvin knelt next to Ara Mathra's body with the chalice of Aurelius Vestromo. He allowed the angel's golden blood to fill the cup almost to the brim before covering it and tucking it into his robes.
"What are you going to do with that?" Tardaesha asked as she came up behind him.
"Prince Gaius might have mentioned," Kelvin explained, "that if we should happen to come upon any angelic blood, he would make it worth our while."
Tardaesha smiled at the prospect.
"Never let an opportunity pass you by," she said, clapping her brother on the shoulder.
When Kelvin had finished, he pointed one finger at Ara Mathra's corpse and uttered a short spell. A ray of green light sprang from his fingertip, and when it struck the angel's body it turned it instantly into a pile of shimmering dust.
"No coming back for you," Kelvin smiled.

The Knot made its way out of the Cathedral, back through the gardens and ultimately returned to Sanctum. There they found Tiadora waiting for them, standing before two dozen red-eyed, black-feathered, horned hippogriffs.
"It seems our lord has smiled upon you," she said.
"He finds the souls of giants sweet," Roger grinned back at her.
"Well done, my lords," Tiadora replied. "I am pleased and the Cardinal is pleased. He sends his regards."
She pulled a small pouch from her skirts and emptied into Roger's hand a king's ransom in sapphires.
"Alas, that there is still more that needs doing to complete Asmodeus' will," she continued. "With the coming of spring, the Fire-Axe moves his horde against the city of Daveryn. Your army, what remains of it, is needed there. You are needed there. Our master, Cardinal Thorn instructs you to depart this place and find passage to Daveryn to rendezvous with the army of Sakkarot Fire-Axe. You may even help personally with the sack of the city if you wish. Once Daveryn is ashes we will speak again.”
"We lost one of ours," Katarina interrupted. "What about Dorian? Can you or Cardinal Thorn return him to us?"
Tiadora smiled grimly.
"I fear not, dearest," she said. "Your brother signed the Pact of Thorns, as did you all, save for the ogre. By doing so you consigned your souls to Hell upon your death. Dorian is now in the hands of our lord. You should be happy for him. Now, if there's nothing else...,"
She vanished.
Katarina looked around at her siblings and comrades.
"This deal is getting worse all the time," she said miserably. "Dory is gone! Forever!"
Grumblejack bowed his head.
"We can bury him here," he said. "Seems right. Let him rest in victory over the damned Iomedaens."
"He's right," Tardaesha laughed. "Dorian would love the irony! We'll lay him to rest in the Cathedral of Iomedae Made Manifest itself, and consecrate it anew in Asmodeus' name!"
And that is exactly what they did.

____________________________________________________________________

It was still six weeks until the spring thaws would allow the remaining forces of the Nessian Knot to leave the Vale of Valtaerna and join up with the Fireaxe in Daveryn. The rank and file bugbears did not mind the respite, as Sanctum and the Vale still had many diversions to offer. The Dannisters, Roger and Grumblejack, after laying Dorian to rest, spent the first few days shoring up defensive lines to insure that no one escaped the Vale to spread word of their deeds there before they were ready. Afterwards, Kelvin spent some time studying the Stygian Mirror they had recovered from the vault of Saint Angelo, and discovered that the bone devils bound within it were called Skaerabus and Skraeth. They could only be freed by breaking the mirror, which Kelvin promised to do if they would agree to serve him as personal advisors for the next one-hundred years. What was one century to such immortal creatures? They agreed and Kelvin had the contract devil Dessiter draw up an ironclad pact.

After the first week, when all seemed settled in the Vale, the Nessian Knot, using Kelvin's teleportation magic, returned to Ghastenhall and the tomb of Prince Gaius Vestromo. He had already received word of their victory from his spawn, and he was anxious to take possession of his family chalice. When Kelvin offered it to him filled with the living blood of Ara Mathra the vampire lord did something that was both terrible and strangely beguiling....he smiled.
"You have fulfilled your part of the bargain and more," he said as he drank deeply from the cup, his face flushed and suffused with newfound vigor. "Therefore I will now offer you my greatest gift...one I have not given freely in over a century. If you ask it of me I will grant each of you the boon of immortality."
The companions glanced at one another, not entirely sure what it was the undead prince was offering.
"You mean spend the rest of our lives as one of them skulking, blood-sucking boot-lickers you got running around here?" Lemmy asked.
"Ahem," Kelvin interrupted. "What my friend means is are you offering us the "opportunity" to become your spawn?"
"Not at all," Gaius laughed. "I respect you far too much for that. No, what I offer is the true path to eternal life. I will make you my equals, as I see potential in you. With a lifetime of lifetimes, we could accomplish many great things together."
"I'm in," Tardaesha said without hesitation.
"Well I'll be damned if I'm going to let you live forever and have all the fun without me," Dakota chimed in.
"Not me!" Lemmy bellowed. "I ain't gonna be no blood-sucker, and I don't even know how I feel about being around blood-suckers in general!"
"Duly noted," Tardaesha winked at him.
"I think that I too will remain mortal....for now," Roger said cryptically.
Dakota looked at her sisters incredulously.
"Are you two serious?" she blurted. "You are actually considering becoming vampires? Undead? Why??"
"Why not, is the question you should be asking yourself," Tardaesha replied. "We have started down a path that may well take more than one lifetime to see to fruition. Father always had aspirations for our family. This way the Dannister name will be assured of carrying on for all eternity."
"Yeah, especially since I'm pregnant!" Dakota laughed.
It seemed impossible for Katarina's mouth to open any wider, yet her chin almost hit the floor.
"Oh come now!" Dakota grinned. "Surely you didn't think I was keeping Timeon around just for his skills with a bow? Although he is a straight shooter!"
Tardaesha guffawed, Lemmy right along with her. Roger just shook his head.
"Now, now," Dakota chided the big half-orc. "You had your chance, but you blew it. Now I'm a one-man girl...at least until Timmy dies of old age. We plan on getting married to make it all official before we leave for Daveryn. Can't have a Dannister scion being a bastard."
"Unbelievable!" Katarina threw up her hands. "Just when I think I've seen everything from you and Tardaesha, you come up with some new atrocity. Fine. Whatever. I'm still not becoming a vampire. Kelvin, can you talk some sense into them?"
She turned to her brother only to find him deep in thought.
"You know," he said after a moment, "I've always dreamed of having an infinite amount of time to continue my research into the nature of magic. This could be the answer."
"I give up," Kat said as she turned towards the door. "The three of you can live happily ever after as far as I'm concerned. Just don't even think about putting coffins anywhere near where I'm sleeping."
______________________________________________________________

Prince Gaius offered to make the transition a gradual one, over a course of weeks, as it could be an uncomfortable process. The three Dannisters declined. They were eager to embrace the gift and so, on the next full moon, Dakota, Tardaesha and Kelvin Dannister died. The following evening, as Katarina, Lemmy, Grumblejack and Roger stood vigil around their graves in the Ghastenhall cemetery, the rose again. Each of them reveled in their new forms and wasted no time experimenting with turning to mist or into bats or wolves. They cut themselves only to watch the wounds instantly heal, and they summoned the creatures of the night to them. Then, finally, they went out into the darkness to hunt the streets of Ghastenhall for their first meals. Their living companions watched them go with mixed emotions. Assuredly they had become much more powerful, and they would need that power in the coming days if they were to see Thorn's plans come to fruition, but Katarina and the others could not help but wonder at what cost such a victory might be achieved.
​​


INTERLUDE

They stood together in the tavern Lemmy had "liberated" in Sanctum. Lemmy, GrumbleJack, Roger, and Kat each raised a cup and toasted. Normally Kat was not invited to these get-togethers. The dwarf had no great love for, and did not hide his dislike of the Danister's, especially since three of them had voluntarily become vampires, but killing a phoenix together tended to make for strange bedfellows.
Grumblejack's deep voice rumbled,"To the death of a mighty enemy and a mightier friend and teacher."
Up went the cups of Triple L, aka Lemmy's Ludicrous Lemonade. The dwarf was always trying new names for his rotgut. First it burned, then came tart sweet flavor and finally the warmth. Kat still felt out of place as old war stories were swapped with embellishment among the others. Laughter rang out as more drink was consumed, and before long random bugbears began to wander in to investigate the noise. Within the hour one group of bugbears was playing music, while another brought in food, and soon the party was in full swing. Eventually Kat began using sleight of hand to limit her drinks. A buzz was all well and good but she lived or died by her senses, and she would not have them dulled.
Soon Grumblejack drunkenly declared another toast, "To Dorian, whose wisdom and faith made him the strongest of us all!!"
Giggling at the drunken ogre, Kat replied, "Dory did always keep us grounded".
From somewhere in the crowd a bugbear snorted derisively, "Dory sounds like the name of a weak..."
He did not finish the statement as Kat's dagger plunged into his throat. Tears and the fury of Hell in her eyes, Kat screamed, "His name was Dorian to all of you! None of you forget his sacrifice!"
A meaty hand fell on her shoulder, and turning she saw Lemmy. Slurring his speech, he proclaimed loudly, "Of all them damn Dannisters other than this one, I hated him least! Now you!" He drained his cup and pointed to the nearest bugbear. "Throw that corpse out of my bar and everyone get another drink." When he turned back, Kat was gone.
Out on the streets Kat walked alone with her thoughts. It had been too much. She could still feel the heat from Lemmy's hand. Dory used to do that. It never failed to comfort her, and he would tease her saying, "Well Kat, do I give you milk and scratch your belly next?" She would never protest because he, more than any other, reminded her of their father. As the tears streamed down her face and the sniffles echoed in the darkness memories began to take her once more....
__________________________________________________________________
The Tavern had not been in the best side of town. It was where the dock workers and day laborers came to drink, find a whore and, when needed, consult a barrister. When Dapper entered the bar with his assistant the music and conversations stopped. His preferred seat was quickly emptied and a cup of his favorite wine was brought to him. Only once he'd casually waved his hand did the tavern go back to its normal merriment.
Tardesha's job was to schmooze with the Lords and Ladies of the court, but Dapper Dorian was a man of the people. The very bar he sat in had been saved from being shut down due to a loop hole he had found. If you needed things done, you came to Dapper Dory. Between his legal skill and the Dannisters' deep pockets and connections, nothing was impossible. The best part was that most cases were pro bono, something a low payed dock worker was happy to reimburse with favors such as forgetting to load a certain crate.
It was like any other night until two guardsman came in and, without preamble, walked up to the bar.
"Jerome your liquor license is expired and we are bringing you in," one of them proclaimed to the bartender.
Jerome sputtered, "That's not true! I just renewed it!"
"Our records and the warrant I'm carrying say different," the constable replied.
Jerome glanced at Dorian, who nodded slightly.
"Well you're in luck," the bartender said. "My legal representative just happens to be here this evening, so you can take this matter up with him."
The constable turned to look where the Jerome was pointing and ran right into Kat. Sneering and shoving past her, he sauntered over to Dorian's table and cleared his throat.
"We have all the needed paperwork, as you can see, Sir," he said to Dorian. "No need to make this harder for the good man. You should give him wise council..."
The "or else" hung in the air unsaid. He began to fumble around in a heavy silk purse, and a few tense minutes passed as he patted himself all over. Dorian simply continued to drink the wine Kat had returned with. Finally he spoke.
"It seems Lady Jillian has given you nothing but a bunch of lies and a death wish. Look around you."
Every eye in the tavern was cut their way, filled with menace and the promise of violence. The constable paled as Dorian continued.
"I like this tavern and under Talingard law section 5.6, accusations not backed by warrant can be reported with a minimum of 3 witnesses. I'm sure I have more than enough. You return to your employer and inform her to use another plot of land to build her shop. Also, spread the word to anyone else willing to take her coin how little value it actually has. In addition, I'm certain every one of the patrons in this establishment could use a drink. We would not want a group of angry dock workers with access to valuable cargo that could mysteriously disappear angry at you, would we?"
The constable blanched and quickly took the heavy silk purse that should have held the legal documents he had brought with him, and placed it on the bar muttering, "Drinks are on me," and then hastily left. Kat handed him a binder as he passed, the stolen papers now inside. The laughter throughout the bar went unnoticed by Dorian as he resumed reading. He laid a gentle hand absently on his sister's head.
"Nice pick," he said after a few moments, "and before you ask how I knew, her maid came in last month, crying and saying that Lady Jillian was trying to take her cousin's inheritance, citing some crazy made up debt they shared. I merely filed the correct papers to have the funds frozen, charged her the full amount and then seized it as my payment two weeks later, after which I returned it to her in full. And to answer your next unspoken question, yes, the maid was VERY grateful. She informed me of this play last week."
When all the drinks had been poured, one man stood and raised his glass. " To Dapper!" The chant filled the tavern.
______________________________________________________________
Kat suddently realized she had come full circle and was once again standing outside the Tavern. As she went back inside, the tears for her fallen brother finally came. The room fell silent as she picked up a full glass and raised it.
"To Dapper Dorian Dannister!"
The once-holy city shook with the chanting of his name.


Of Dragons and Princesses - 8 Pharast, 4718 - 9 Pharast, 4718

Six weeks later, once the snows had thawed enough to make the route into the Vale of Valtaerna passable, the Nessian Knot marched out at the head of the remains of their rag-tag army. The bugbear commander Shagoroth Night-mane looked appreciatively at the carnage they were leaving behind and chuckled.
"I don't think we're getting invited back."
They made their way north through the pass, and then turned southeast for Daveryn.

Once clear of the mountains, the Knot took their leave of their troops, trusting their bugbear commanders to get them the rest of the way safely. The newly-turned vampires were not enthusiastic about the idea of several days travel overland, hiding by daylight, their vulnerable coffins exposed to potential threats. Instead, Kelvin gathered everyone close to him as the moon rose high in the night sky and teleported them all instantaneously outside the walls of Daveryn, a city of sixty-thousand, the jewel of Talingarde's western coast. They arrived expecting to find a city under siege. Instead they found it in ruins. It seemed that the Fire-Axe had gotten restless and decided to make his assault without reinforcements. He was apparently successful. Everywhere bugbears camped, having built great bonfires from wrecked homes and shops. Ogres, trolls, goblins and even giants moved amongst the detritus and debris searching for loot and survivors.

Their arrival did not go unnoticed, and it was not long before a bugbear runner came for them, telling them that the Fire-Axe requested their presence. They were led inside the city walls to where the bugbear leader had set up his headquarters in the City Hall. The Fire-Axe struck an impressive figure when they were brought into his presence. He was no longer clad in ill-fitting stolen knight's armor. Instead, he wore a black suit of infernal armor, a gift for sacking the city from Thorn. He truly looked the part of a dread bugbear tyrant of the north. The city hall itself was crowded with bugbear lords, ogre chieftains, hill giant thugs, scampering goblins and even a frost giant jarl that stood uneasily beside the Fire-Axe. All of them stopped and stared at the companions as they enter the hall. The Fire-Axe rose.
"My lords," he said in a booming voice, "welcome to Daveryn! With your skill at throwing open gates, I had hoped to have your aid. But it seems this city could not wait to fall beneath my killers' blades. ”
That earned a clamorous yell from the assembled throng.
"Come," Sakkarot said, "We have matters to attend to.”

The companions followed the Fire-Axe out of the main hall to a private chamber. The mayor's chambers, where once the future well-being of Daveryn was plotted, had become the Fire-Axe's war room. The accommodations were much more spacious than the cramped Westkirk castle and much more civilized than the war camp north of the Watch Wall. The Fire-Axe sent away his lieutenants and underlings to be alone with the Knot.
“Are you here on a mission?” he asked without preamble once they were alone.
“I have one for you if you are not, and if you're interested. The Duke of Daveryn has escaped me. It's possible he's just gone. He may have had some magical means of leaving the city, so it may be a fool's errand. But I suspect not. Duke Martin famously hated wizards. I suspect he's holed up in the city somewhere, but so far my killers have failed to find him. I would love to have him dragged before me in chains. It would be good for morale. Other than that, enjoy the city. I care not what you do to this place. I'll be rid of it soon enough. There are pockets of resistance here and there, I'm told. You are welcome to deal with those however you see fit. Or you can simply loot the ruins. I'll warn you though, my killers are thorough. If you want the best treasure, you'll have to find places they can't get. Ah, look at me. Lecturing you like you were whelps. You know all of this.”
He took a long deep drink of wine and suddenly turned more melancholy.
“Truth told," he continued, "that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. This city was so easily taken because the Duke was an idiot and it was lightly defended. The baron of Westkirk revealed a secret entrance from the sea caves to the palace. Anyone with any sense would have collapsed it as soon as my army drew near, but Duke Martin imagined he could escape through it if things got bad. I have captured a hollow city. Most of the army was missing. They mass in the south under the king's banner. I know it. An army marches towards me led by King Markadian himself. It is an army I cannot hope to defeat on the open field. Do you know anything of this?”
"We have heard rumors to that effect," Kelvin said, "but we saw no sign of them personally."
"What is Thorn's plan to deal with the king's forces?" Sakkarot asked. "He must have one! Yet whenever I speak to the devil-harlot Tiadora all I get are sneers and japes. Do you know Thorn's mind? What does he intend?”
"Alas," Kelvin sighed, "he has been no more forthcoming with us than yourself."
“I was supposed to be victorious against the armies of Talingarde," the Fire-Axe growled. "I was supposed to crush them! That was always the plan! I was only to lose to… ”
The bugbear chieftain paused, cutting his eyes uncertainly at the members of the 9th.
"As I mentioned," Kelvin began, choosing his words cautiously, "Cardinal Thorn has not been very forthcoming with us either. We are given an assignment, and we carry it out, not knowing what waits for us next. At least with you, it seems, he has perhaps revealed a broader picture...?"
Sakkarot paused, collecting his thoughts.
“When Thorn found me," he began, "I was dying, poisoned and weak. I had been outcast from my tribe and branded across my chest with a giant slash from a shaman's obsidian blade – the mark of the defeated and the banished. I was cast out into the ice to die alone and unmourned. Thorn took me in, healed me. He drew the poison from my wound. And with his magic, the scar of the outcast was remade into the Asmodean star. He marked my flesh and my soul – I was then and forever bound to the Cardinal and to the Lord of Hell. Do not think me a victim. Willingly I gave myself to his service. What did I have to lose? All that remained of my old life was death and disgrace. Thorn set me upon another path. The Cardinal said that if I would but serve him, he would give me all I wished for. He has been true to his word. He has made me mighty amongst my people. He has erased the dishonor of banishment and given me a new name. He has bestowed me with mighty gifts. I am most famous for my axe, true enough, but even more than that, he gave me this.”
He reached up and removed an iron circlet that had blended into his black fur.

“This crown of iron – it makes me wise and wary. I am able to speak to my people with authority. It makes me truly worthy of being a king.”
He replaced it and it again faded from view.
“But there was always a price. In time, I will face an army not of Talireans but of those under the banner of Asmodeus. And when I face that army, I will lead my force to utter destruction and defeat. All those who chant my name and honor me now, I will betray. My killers have become like my children and upon the altar of war, I will sacrifice them for the glory of Asmodeus the most high. Then I will go to the Throne of Iron far in the north. I will serve there for the rest of my life at the side of Thorn. My time of glory will be over. Then begins my time of service to pay for what I have been given.”
He took another deep drink, emptying the wine bottle.
“I enjoy every day of my dominion. I savor every moment of my prize.”
He smashed the wine bottle against the far wall.
“But I know it will not last."

_________________________________________________________________

After their meeting with the Fire-Axe, the Nessian Knot was left to their own devices. Katarina began wandering amongst the encamped troops, searching for any rumors that might lead to information about the Duke's whereabouts. She overheard two bugbears talking about a "damn wizard" that was still hold up in his tower in the artisans district of Bandelthyn.
"Anyone gets near the place gets fried," one of them grumbled.
Kat recalled Sakkarot saying something about the Duke hating wizards, so that seemed as good a place to start as any.

She had no trouble finding the tower once she reached Bandelthyn. It was one of the few buildings still intact in the district. She made her way cautiously up to its door, certain she would trigger some arcane trap at any moment, but was pleasantly surprised to find the portal not only trap-free, but also unlocked. Blending seemlessly into the shadows, she quietly opened the door and crept inside. The lower floor was typical of what she expected to find in a wizard's lair: jumbles of books, scrolls and parchments overflowing various tables and desks. A single spiral staircase wound up to the second floor, where Kat could see the flickering of lamp light. Stealthy as a breeze, she moved upwards until she came to a combination work room/bedroom. An old man sat with his back to her at a desk, furiously scribbling with quill and ink. He hummed softly to himself and seemed to have no clue that he was being watched. Kat settled down to wait and observe. He would have to sleep sooner or later.

________________________________________________________________

While Kat was away on her secret mission, Kelvin, Lemmy, Roger and Grumblejack ventured to the noble district of Duward in search of records that might divulge any bolt holes where the Duke might be holed up. On the way, they encountered a group of bugbears camped outside a small tower.
"What is this place?" Kelvin asked one of the bugbears.
The creature turned on him with a snarl, prepared to eat the pathetic human who dared speak to him. When he saw the hulking winged ogre standing behind the wizard, however, his jaw dropped open and he took several steps back.
"S..s....sable Tower," he stammered. "S'posed to be where the Dukess jooles is hidden. We seen'em! Sittin' out just as plain as you like, but they's trapped. Five of our brothers already tried to take'em. Got fried."

Kelvin nodded and thanked the guard for the information. Then he and his companions simply strode into the tower, to the disbelief and consternation of the surrounding humanoids. Inside and upstairs they found an open room, at the center of which was a locked glass case. Inside where the crown, scepter and ceremonial robe of Daveryn on display in all their bejeweled splendor. It would seem, at first glance, that all one had to do was walk across the room and smash the glass case. Of course, the five blasted bugbear corpses laying around it demonstrated that would be a singularly bad idea. Kelvin concentrated for a moment and then pointed towards a brilliant sapphire held in a golden cage hanging from the ceiling.
"The magic's coming from there," he said. "Give me a moment."
He focused again and spoke the words to an incantation of dispelling. The light and energy around the gem immediately vanished.
"There," Kelvin said. "It's only temporary, but should be long enough."
Roger walked over to the case and smashed it open with his sword, then picked up the treasures and stuffed them in a sack.

When the companions came back out of the tower, one particularly large bugbear strode up to them.
"What you find?" he asked.
"Nothing," Kelvin shrugged. "It was all an illusion meant to lure in thieves. Nothing more to see."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the bewildered bugbears to stare after him, wondering what had just happened.

________________________________________________________________

'Were are they??' Kat wondered to herself for the tenth time in as many minutes.
Kelvin had contacted her via a sending spell, checking up on her as he was wont to do, but this time she didn't mind it. Especially after she had heard the old wizard speaking some strange tongue to what appeared to be thin air, after which someone, or something had replied in the same language. Kat hadn't seen anyone else enter nor leave the tower. She had told Kelvin about her particular predicament and he had told her they were on their way. That had been ten minutes ago. She remained crouched in the shadows, trying to stay out of line of sight of the upper windows of the tower. She heard voices and footsteps behind her...loud ones. She cursed her bumbling friends and relatives, who couldn't be low-key if their lives depended on it.

"Who's down there?"
The voice had come from the upper tower.
"Leave now or face the wrath of Polydorus!"
Kelvin smirked and glanced around at the others.
"Really, Kat?" he asked his little sister. "This is what you called us for?"
Before Kat could snap back a retort, a whistling sound came from the tower, getting louder and closer rapidly.
"Incoming!" Lemmy bellowed.
An explosion of fire detonated in the midst of the companions, scattering them like leaves in the wind. Kat managed to roll with the brunt of the blast and came quickly to her feet, just in time to see Grumblejack, still struggling to recover from the explosion, get knocked back to the ground from some unseen blow. She grimaced in confusion, and then Lemmy cried out. His head snapped backwards and blood flew out of his nose and mouth but there was no attacker to be seen. He began crawling towards the door of the tower, but then two more blows landed, driving him back down. Kat wasn't sure what was happening, but she knew she didn't like being out in the open like a sitting duck. Sticking to the shadows, she made a break for the tower door, pushed her way inside and crept quickly up the stairs.

Grumblejack drew his massive greatsword and begin flailing wildly around him as he struggled to his feet. Nearby, Roger stood up and drew upon his small repertoire of prayers to allow him to see the unseen. Immediately he saw several humanoid figures surrounding his friends. They floated several inches off the ground and moved with the grace of clouds on a breeze. Just as he was about to shout a warning to the others, a bolt of lightning struck from the top of the tower and sent every muscle in his body into spasmodic writhing. One of the invisible stalkers flew at him while he was defenseless and slammed him to the ground again. Another clubbed Grumblejack in the back of his skull, while a third hammered into Lemmy one last time before the dwarf managed to drag himself into the tower and slam the door behind him.

Katarina reached the top of the tower stairs just as the wizard turned away from the window. To Kat's shocked surprise, Polydorus stared directly at her. She flicked a dagger his way, but the old man was spry for his age and he ducked aside as the blade flew past him to stick in the wall behind. Kat prepared to charge him before he could use his magic against her, but that's when the entire upper floor of the tower erupted in an inferno. Kat leaped backwards and tumbled down the stairs, leaving her only mildly singed. When she looked back up, she saw only smoke billowing from the second floor. She didn't see how anyone could have survived that. Kelvin's handiwork, more than likely.

Grumblejack finally managed to connect with something solid in his random sword swings, and when he did so it was spectacular. He heard an inhuman wail rise up and then vanish on the wind.
"You got one!" Roger called, giving him a thumbs-up.
The anti-paladin then turned to his own foe and drove his sword through where he felt its heart should have been. He was rewarded to see it dissolve into nothingness as its shriek joined that of its brother. He turned around just as Grumblejack went down again, a pair of the stalkers raining blow after blow on his head. Then Roger was struck again from behind as well. He whirled, hand outstretched, and channeled unholy power into the creature behind him. It erupted into black flames that burned it instantly to ash. At that moment, Katarina leaped from the upper window of the still-smoking tower and landed nimbly near Grumblejack, plunging two daggers into the back of one of the stalkers as she did. It vanished, as did another one when Kelvin loosed another fireball, this time in the midst of both friends and foes, though the flames only touched their opponents.
"Only two left!" Roger shouted to Grumblejack.
"Make that one!" Grumblejack growled back as he thrust his sword behind him and impaled another Stalker through sheer luck.
Roger turned to face the last one, but then the tower door creaked open and Lemmy, still on his belly, sent a blast of metal shards tearing into the stalker, ripping it to shreds.

______________________________________________________________

Despite Kelvin's explosive intervention, much of the wizard's books and journals remained intact. Likely the old man had warded them against just such an eventuality, given the volatile nature of magic in general. Among his writings, Kat discovered a diary in which Polydorus revealed that, unlike every other remaining resident in Daveryn, he was not trapped. He was waiting. As the horde of the Fire-Axe approached, he promised that if Duke Martin could get to his tower in Bandelthyn, the wizard would teleport the lord to safety. The duke had scoffed at his offer.
“They will never take this city in a hundred years!” Duke Martin had boasted.
Daveryn fell in less than two days. Still, Polydorus intended to honor his promise. He hoped that by saving the duke he could change the way wizards were viewed throughout all of the kingdom of Talingarde.

There was also a strange letter written on a scrap of untanned skin, with jagged writing as if it had been etched by a claw:
To Polydorus, Seer of Daveryn, Unwinged but wise:

Behold, I the Stormborn King need your counsel. I have taken Chargammon's whelp, the black dragon Jeratheon Knightsbane. He foolishly tried to lay claim to my dominion and by talon and thunderbolt did we humble this night hunter. My heart speaks to slay this monster and see his evil forever removed from both earth and sky. Still, I worry this would bring the wrath of his sire.

So I send to you. What say the stars? Will the death of Jeratheon invite disaster or will it bring only justice and relief? I await your word.

I remain the Lord of All Eagles and the Stormborn King

Kelvin was not sure what to make of the letter, but they also discovered a book written by Polydorus entitled Dragons of Talingarde, which detailed the five greatest dragons of the land:
Antharia Regina – a silver elder wyrm from the north not seen in a century; mother of Argossarian; presumed dead. She could take human form and loved to move amongst mortals.

Eiramanthus the Traveller – an ancient copper dragon famed for his planar travels. It mentioned his three beloved consorts who would die to defend him: Setia Swims-the- Sea-of-Stars; Sakura Yoshimune of the Toshigami; and Shakti Shobhana the Redeemed.

Chargammon the Black – a black dragon elder wyrm. “The vilest serpent in a nest of vipers;” It gave the location of his lair. This beast had spawned more than twenty- seven young, many of which still troubled the world. Amongst them:

Jeratheon Knightsbane – an adult black dragon and hunter of men. He dwelt in the swamps of the Caer Bryr.

Nythoggr, Striker-in-the-Dark – An ancient cairn linnorm of the Savage North of whom little was known.

"Mysteries for another day," Kelvin sighed, tucking the book into his robes.
He, for one, had no intention of hunting down any more dragons any time soon.

Grand Lodge

I so look forward to these journals. I have been a fan of yours for a several years now. Thank you so very much Jolly Doc and all the rest.


Dax Thura wrote:
I so look forward to these journals. I have been a fan of yours for a several years now. Thank you so very much Jolly Doc and all the rest.

Thank YOU for following along!


The Sacking of Daveryn - 9 Pharast, 4718 - 16 Pharast, 4718

"This should do the trick," Kelvin said, as he placed the ducal crown upon his head. "Now let's see about finding your owner."
The young wizard closed his eyes and focused his mind as he cast out with his magic. At first his inner vision was clouded, almost as if something was intentionally blocking his spell. He pushed harder and the mist parted, revealing a middle-aged man clad in ratty and tattered noble garb, hunched and shivering in a darkened cellar.
"Got him!" Kelvin said, his eyes snapping open. "No sense wasting any more time. Gather round."

The others stood in a circle around Kelvin, hands linked as he began to cast. A bright light gathered around them until it was a blinding nimbus. There was a moment of disorientation, and then the glow faded. They still stood in a circle, but they were no longer inside the city hall. Instead, they were in a low cellar, surrounding the man Kelvin had seen in his vision...Duke Martin of Daveryn.
"Polydorus sends his regards," Tardaesha smirked as she drew her sword and slashed the cringing man viciously down his right arm.
"Now, now," Kelvin chided. "We need him alive."
"Done," Kat said as she drew a sap from her belt and smashed it into the back of the Duke's skull.
He reeled drunkenly but still did not go down.
"Let me show you how it's done, little girl," Roger sighed.
He turned his greatsword so the flat of the blade faced the Duke, and then swung it mightily into his face. Duke Martin went down as if deboned.

__________________________________________________________________

The Fire-Axe was beyond pleased at the live-capture of the Duke and ordered a great feast be held in the Nessian Knot's honor. He offered slaves to them for their own personal use, but Dakota had only one request...to be present during the Duke's "interrogation."

The Duke was very forthcoming under Dakota's tender ministrations, especially when she threatened to keep him alive until she delivered her baby, so that she could feed him to it one morsel at a time. He quickly spilled his guts, babbling and yammering hysterically. According to Martin, most of his army had marched south to join the Grand Army of Talingarde that was assembling under the king. He wasn't sure of its exact size, but felt it must be 20,000 soldiers and knights at least. The King himself was leading that army and nothing could take him from the side of his men...with one exception. The King wore an amulet around his neck. If his beloved daughter, the beautiful princess Bellinda, was ever threatened by an evil so grave that his trusted veteran knights could not deal with it, they would summon the King and he would rush to the Adarium via the amulet. Distracting the King in such a way would not mean the end of the army's might, however. His second in command was General Vastenus Barca, a veteran soldier and considered by some to be a military genius.

After that information was pried out of him, the bugbears celebrated in earnest. More of Daveryn burned and Sakkarot had the Duke roasted in a large open pit. The Fire-Axe and his lieutenants then proceeded to eat Duke Martin.
“His city and his power are now mine! ” proclaimed the Fire-Axe to his assembled throng of monsters.
They roared back in bestial and brutal delight. The frenzied celebration lasted long into the night.

____________________________________________________________________

Katarina was bored, and that was a potentially volatile and dangerous situation for those around her. She wasn't sure what they were still doing in Daveryn. The Duke had been found and dealt with. Sure there were still some pockets of resistance, but there were more than enough bugbears and other monsters to deal with them. She and her companions were meant for greater things. Kelvin kept telling her to be patient, and that Thorn would contact them soon with their next mission, but Kat was not good at being patient, and the curiosity of her nick-name was getting the best of her. She had taken to hanging around the bugbear camps, listening for any interesting rumors that might provide her some distraction. One such evening, she got lucky.
"Don't go near the Ballerina School o' sword fighting," one of the big brutes said to his gathered brethren. "No wait, that's not it. The Balleryn school in Glassboro. Yeah that's it. Those fops are dangerous with those little swishy pokes of theirs."
That was all the incentive Kat needed.

Glassboro had been an artisan's district, and the Balleryn School, little more than an open courtyard really, had been one of its barely-tolerated ventures. The headmaster was not from Talingarde. Rodrigo Garza Diego Guillermo Valentino Estanza de Garradora (usually Rodrigo sufficed) was definitely a foreigner. He was a swarthy man of uncertain accent who occasionally broke out in a rapid fire language no one on the island understood. Regardless, the short, dark and handsome foreigner had managed to establish himself as one of the premier sword masters for hire in just a few years, and gathered together a band of dedicated bravos desperate to prove themselves to their master. Rodrigo was, by any reasonable standard, insane. He made time enough for only three things in life: dueling, drinking and wooing. Yet, that wasn't what made Rodrigo insane. His madness came from his bravery. Where some men claimed to be fearless, Rodrigo was very nearly so. He believed himself the greatest swordsman in the world and would eagerly take any challenge to that title. He never refused a duel (even though dueling was patently illegal in Talingarde) and was all too eager to prove his prowess with a blade to anyone who happened by. Rodrigo was amongst the most hated men in Daveryn before the city fell. He had dueled, cuckolded and disgraced so many nobles that it was a wonder he survived to see the city fall. Despite several solid tries, the minions of the Fire-Axe had failed to slay him and his surviving students. In fact, Rodrigo had decorated the entryway to the courtyard of his school with the heads of three ogres, five bugbears, eight goblins and one hill giant. Beside the heads written is blood were scrawled the words “Open for business. All challengers welcome. ”
"Hold my beer," Kat whispered, smiling to herself.

She watched from the eaves of a nearby rooftop until darkness fell and, one by one, the six students tired from their endless dueling and drifted off to sleep, tucking themselves into bedrolls laid out around the periphery of the courtyard. Finally, when only one remained awake on watch, Kat quietly stole down to the ground and over the wall of the yard. Silent as death, she drifted over to one of the sleeping students and deftly plucked his dagger from its belt sheath. Then she waited until the student on guard was facing away from her, at which point she flicked the dagger and sent it precisely into the base of the young man's skull. He collapsed with a gurgle and Kat melted back into the shadows.

It wasn't long before one of the other students awoke to relieve himself and noticed his dead comrade. He shouted in alarm, waking the others. There was confusion at first, but that quickly turned to shouts of accusation as the murder weapon was discovered to belong to one of their own. One of the students challenged the accused to a duel as Rodrigo stood by and observed in indifference. The two students drew their blades and fought until one lay dead on the ground...the accused as fate would have it. Afterwards, sleep seemed to elude the remaining students. Two finally returned to their bedrolls, but at opposite ends of the courtyard. Kat waited a bit longer before tossing another dagger from the darkness and taking one of the sleepers in the throat with it. The three students who remained awake saw this and shouted the alarm once more. Kat risked one more dagger-throw, but her aim was slightly off and she only managed to wound one of the swordsmen as they rushed towards her hiding spot. She remedied the situation a moment later with one last throw. The student fell in a pool of his own blood as Kat leaped over the wall and vanished into the ruins, leaving Rodrigo with half of the pupils he'd had that morning.

________________________________________________________________

The clarion sound of a trumpet blast woke Lemmy from where he'd been dosing on the upper floor of the burned out house the Knot had been squatting in. He cracked open his bleary eyes, still trying to shake off the effects of the hog piss that passed for bugbear beer. Two figures stood in the room. One was a tall, human-like creature with long, feathery wings and a gentle inner radiance that made him difficult to look directly at. He gripped a huge warhammer in both hands. His companion was lithe and beautiful, with skin the color of marble. He hovered upon powerful, white wings and radiated a sense of serenity. He held a gleaming golden trumpet, but as Lemmy watched, it rapidly transformed into a mighty greatsword.
"Villains," the one with the hammer intoned, "know that now thou shalt answer for thy wickedness. Our brother, the mighty Ara Mathra hath tasked Maul and Clarion with thy destruction."

Before Lemmy could respond or react, the angel closed the distance to him and swung his hammer into the dwarf's gut, sending him flying into the opposite wall. Roger, who'd been sleeping nearby, rose from his pallet in a fury, drawing his sword as he charged. Clarion stepped into his path, but the anti-paladin swung his blade and smote the archon with unholy power. At the same time, Lemmy managed to rise up on his elbows and send a blast of metal shards into the oncoming Maul. Clarion recoiled from Roger's blow, golden blood trickling to the floor. His face grim, he opened his mouth and spoke one word, but the force behind it struck both Lemmy and Roger completely blind, as well as Grumblejack, who'd lumbered into the room at the sounds of the melee. The trumpet archon then followed by conjuring a frigid spear of ice that impaled both the dwarf and the anti-paladin. Though Grumblejack could not see, his ears still worked just fine and he honed in on the sound of Clarion's voice. Summoning the power of his fiendish heritage, he infused his sword with dark energy and swung blindly. He was rewarded with a groan of pain from the archon, followed by the sound of a body striking the floor.

A flash of light blossomed in the center of the room as Kelvin appeared with Tardaesha and Dakota in tow. The three vampires had been resting in the cellar, snug in their coffins when the sounds of battle from above had so rudely awakened them. They arrived to find their mortal companions stumbling around blindly while a burly angel with a large hammer swung madly in all directions. Another angel lay dead on the ground, apparently impaled through the chest. As the vampires took in the scene, Lemmy managed to lever himself up on one elbow and blast the angel, but the brute shrugged off the brunt of the attack and smacked the dwarf across the forehead with a back-handed swing of his hammer. Lemmy sagged to the floor, bleeding profusely but still breathing...barely. As Grumblejack stumbled towards the sounds of melee, Maul whirled and drove the head of his hammer solidly into the ogre's chest. Wheezing, Grumblejack fell backwards and crashed heavily into one of the badly burned support pillars. What was left of the ceiling above sagged dangerously.
"Time to end this, sister," Tardaesha announced.
Dakota grinned, baring her enlarged canines, then drew her bow and loosed three arrows. All three struck Maul and he reeled. Before he could recover, Tardaesha rushed in and smote him down, the wounds smoking with brimstone as he fell to the floor.
"We seem to be accumulating more vendettas against us," Kelvin said as he moved to check on his fallen friends.
"Let them keep coming!" Dakota laughed. "This is a lesson these self-righteous bastards have had coming for a long time."
Kelvin nodded but remained silent. He didn't disagree, but he wondered if a day would soon come when he and his family were going to be on the receiving end of that lesson.

_________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, when Kat returned and breathlessly told her tale of her encounter at the fencing school, the others were less than impressed.
"Two angels!" Dakota pointed to the bodies on the floor. "Two! And you expect us to get excited about a few rich brats with swords?"
"Now, now," Kelvin chided. "It sounds like Kat did well for herself. Let's give her the benefit of the doubt. These may indeed be some dangerous rabble that need putting down. The least we can do is go and have a look."

The companions followed Katarina back to the Balleryn school to find all of the remaining students and Rodrigo awake and alert. Dakota casually put an arrow through the throat of one student as she approached. The young man fell, gurgling, and Roger stepped over his still-twitching body, headed directly towards Rodrigo. The swordmaster raised his rapier in mock salute.
"And what do we say to the god of Death, my students?" Rodrigo shouted.
"Not today!" they answered in unison.
Rodrigo lunged at Roger and managed to drive the point of his blade through the gaps of the bigger man's pauldrons and into his shoulder. The students cheered and made to rush forward as one, but then a fiery explosion detonated into their midst, burning the flesh from their bones in an instant. Rodrigo turned, mouth gaping at the charred corpses of his pupils, but then Kelvin hurled a spear of ice at him, impaling him through the belly. As he staggered about, refusing to die, Grumblejack stepped forward and decapitated him with one swing. In the silence that followed, all eyes turned to Kat.
"Don't worry, little sister," Dakota smiled, "we would never let the big, mean boys hurt you!"
The others laughed boisterously and slapped Kat on the back, continuing to taunt and jibe her all the way back home. She hated them all.

_________________________________________________________________

Over the next several days, the companions of the Ninth Knot continued to pick up more rumors from the rank and file killers among The Fire-Axe’s troops:
“I hear there's some soldiers left nearby in Smallward! Anyone want to go eat ‘em?”
“The Duke's not the only one who's missing. We didn't catch the Cardinal either. He's gotta be somewhere around here.”
“I heard there was still fighting over at the prison in Cliffward. We should round up some killers and check it out. ” “Good idea…after we finish this last barrel of beer. ” “We've got three barrels of beer. ” “ After we finish the last THREE barrels of beer!”
“They say one of the noble houses in Angleton ain't been looted yet. We should check it out!”

All of them seemed intriguing, though certainly some would just be the idle speculations of bored soldiers, but the tedium of simply waiting around and doing nothing was more than enough to send the Knot out into the city in search of adventure. The Cathedral of Iomedae Beneficent seemed the most logical place to start looking for the missing cardinal. The church was one of the four great Cathedrals in Talingarde (the other three were in Matharyn, Ghastenhall and Valtae-rna). The bugbear raiders were just superstitious enough that the Cathedral had largely been left alone. Rumors of good outsider guardians also helped to ensure that it was one of the least ransacked places in all of Daveryn. The structure was certainly impressive. It presented a great gothic edifice; every inch covered in intricate decoration that celebrated an endless procession of saints and heroes of the faith. Familiar aphorisms written in both common and celestial adorned the stonework. Saying such as:
“There is no darkness so deep, that a single candle cannot defeat it. ”
“The suns sees and blesses us all with light and life. ”
“The sun may set and winter may come; but always there will be another dawn and summer will return triumphant. ”
Great flying buttresses, stained glass windows and a mighty facade completed the cathedral. It was truly a place of awe and reverence for the exaltation of Iomedae.

As the villains pushed open the facade and walked into the cathedral, their first impression was one of amazement. It looked as if the place had weathered the sack of Daveryn completely unaffected. It hadn’t been dusted in a few days certainly, but otherwise, a congregation could have filed in and started their prayers without a moment's pause. There was loot there, to be sure. The golden fixtures and sacramental vessels were still neatly positioned on the central altar. Unlike most Iomedaen temples with their silver items, these were older artifacts and largely made of gold. Grumblejack recovered from his momentary awe and marched directly up to the altar, which he easily upended with one massive hand. He raked all of the gold into a large sack, then relieved himself on a bas-relief carving of the Bright Lady herself. Then he began a prayer of desecration, claiming the holy site in the name of Asmodeus.

“Hello,” Kat murmured as she sifted among the debris the ogre had left in his wake. “What have we here?”
She knelt down to peer at the floor beneath with the altar had been. She pushed down on the end of one flagstone, and a small latch popped up. Pulling it lifted the entire stone easily, revealing a flight of stone stairs descending into the reliquary below.
“Whomever is down there,” Kelvin called, “you have one chance to reveal yourself. Do not make us come looking for you.”
There was the sound of shuffling footsteps from the darkness, and then an old man dressed in dirty clergy robes climbed the steep stairs, hands raised above his head.
“Who are you?” Kelvin asked.
“I am Ignatius, Cardinal of Daveryn,” the old man stated, drawing himself up.
“People have been looking for you,” Kelvin smiled. “You picked a good hiding spot.”
“Do with me what you will,” the old man said. “I will not help you in your unholy efforts.”
“Very well,” Kelvin said.
Baring his fangs, he seized the old man in an iron grip and sank them into his throat. In a matter of moments he’d drained the priest dry and let his pale form drop to the floor.
“Well how am I supposed to torture and interrogate him now?” Dakota whined.
“Don’t worry,” Kelvin smiled. “When he rises again tomorrow, he’ll tell us anything we want to know.”

__________________________________________________________________

The rumor of one of the noble houses still unlooted drew the attention of the companions next. When they arrived in the small farming district of Angleton, they discovered the rumor was true. A band of bugbears stood a fair distance away from it, eyeing it warily.
“What’s going on here?” Kelvin demanded as they approached.
“Nuthin,’” one of the brutes grunted. “The old lady is still holed up in there.”
“One old woman?” Kelvin asked. “Why haven’t you rooted her out yet?”
“‘Cause she’s got guards,” the bugbear sneered. “We sent four of our killers in yesterday, and they was all cutdown by crossbows afore they got twenty feet!”
“I see,” Kelvin nodded. “Best you not risk any more of your men. We’ll handle it from here.”

Dakota touched the iron circlet on her brow, and her form and gear shifted to that of a disheveled woman dressed in rags and grime. She began walking slowly towards the manor house, glancing back over her shoulder in fear every now and again. When she was still a hundred feet from the manor, a voice called out from an upper window.
“Come no further! You are trespassing on private property! Turn back now or face the consequences!”
“Please!” Dakota pleaded. “I’m with child and starving! The bugbears are right behind me!”
“You have been warned!” called the guardsman.
With a feral snarl, Dakota began running towards the house. A chorus of bowstrings twanged from the roof and upper windows of the manor, and a swarm of bolts arced towards her. She dodged left and right, moving in a serpentine pattern. Still, four of the shafts found their mark, though they bounced harmlessly off of her supernaturally hardened flesh. She reached the front door, but then realized her mistake. The house was a private dwelling. As a vampire she could not cross such a threshold without an invitation.
“Grumblejack!” Dakota called. “I need you!”
With a mighty roar and the beat of leathery wings, the big ogre landed beside her and slammed one huge fist into the door. It splintered inwards, where a dozen armed men awaited in the foyer.
“Stop!” a commanding, female voice came from the top of the stairs.
A lovely, dark-haired middle-aged woman stood there, glaring down at both her men and at the invaders.
“I have fifty veteran soldiers at my disposal,” she proclaimed, “and by the gods, we will fight to the death if you charge this manor, but if you can promise to be civil and not steal the silverware, you can come in and we can discuss terms.”
“Is that an invitation?” Dakota asked, grinning.
“Do you lead that rabble out there?” the woman asked.
“We do,” Dak nodded.
“Most excellent,” the woman replied.“I am the Baroness Vanya of Veryn, rightful duchess of Daveryn, deposed by damned Darian usurpers. Who might you be?”
“We are the Nessian Knot,” Dakota said, “and before much longer, all of Talingarde will be under our sway.”

_________________________________________________________________

Baroness Vanya explained to the Knot that her family once ruled the Duchy of Daveryn, but they lost their rights when they supported Barca over Darius in the last war of succession. When the Palace fell, she committed none of her personal forces towards saving the city or Duke Martin (whom she regarded as an idiot). Instead, she tried to flee the city and half her guards perished at the hands of goblin wolf-riders. The survivors fled back to her fortified manor house and there they had remained since. The redoubt was well provisioned and ready for a prolonged siege. She was certain the King of Talingarde must be on his way, and her goal had been to discretely remain in her manor until he arrived. This passive plan of inaction grated upon the baroness. She despised the House of Darius and detested the fact that she must rely upon those righteous fools for rescue. She was certain she could cut a deal with the Fire-Axe if only she could reason with someone in authority.
“And now here you are,” she smiled at her guests.
“Yes,” Kelvin smiled in return, showing just the barest hint of his fangs, “and what is it exactly that you are offering us in return for your life?”
“Information,” she replied calmly.
“I could get that from your corpse,” Kelvin said.
Vanya blinked once and then cleared her throat.
“I see from your heraldry that you are followers of Asmodeus,” she said. “Will you allow me to show you something?”

She led her guests down into her securely locked basement, and there, tucked away in a hidden corner, stood an shrine. The stone altar was a massive stone block adorned with the unmistakeable iconography of hell. Leering devils cavorted with mortals across its surface. Written upon the altar in infernal was the phrase, “By blood and devotion to thee, O Lord of Hell, are we preserved forever.”
Kelvin nodded in approval.
“I’m impressed,” he said. “So you are one of the devout?”
“How do you think I’ve maintained my beauty and youth for over eighty years?” Vanya smiled coyly.
“In that case,” said Kelvin, “I believe you can be trusted…for now…and perhaps we can come to some sort of accord. Now, what can you tell us about the prison…?”

_________________________________________________________________

Rumors of a fledgling resistance movement buzzed around the city. Several bugbear soldiers had been found murdered in blind alleys by something other than fellow bugbears. An ogre head was found impaled on a wrought-iron spike. Several servants of the Fire-Axe had gone mysteriously missing. Some began muttering that maybe Daveryn wasn’t as subdued as it appeared. As it so happened, Baroness Vanya had heard those same rumors, and had even managed to ferret out a likely hiding spot in the sewers of Argentyle. When the Fire-Axe asked the Nessian Knot to investigate, they did so enthusiastically. When they found the so-called resistance, it turned out to consist of a few dozen soldiers of the watch, led the last surviving watch captain, Rikkon Harbold. Captain Harbold was a mean, cussed, ugly, scarred mountain of a man who was rarely seen without his trade-mark cigar. Though he looked and talked like a villain, there were actually very few men in all of Talingarde more dedicated to the cause of justice and law. It didn’t save him nor his men. The Knot hit them with an infernal fury. Those whom Kelvin’s fireballs did not kill were summarily dealt with by the blades of Tardaesha, Roger and Grumblejack, Dak’s arrows or Katarina’s knives. The Captain himself went down beneath a barrage of Lemmy’s stones.

Later that evening, when they reported their success to the Fire-Axe, he had equally good news in return. It seemed that Cardinal Ignatius had risen from his grave, and had been very forthcoming in his new incarnation. According to him the High Inquisitor, Lord Solomon Tyrath, had been charged with the defense of the Castle Matharyn and the Old Palace while the king was away on campaign. Lord Tyrath was a powerful individual who scared the Cardinal to death. He also reported that Markadian V had a surprise ally. He had been in communication with a powerful outsider of living flame named Brigit of the Brijidine. Brigit, a queen of fire beneath the mountains, was revered as a goddess amongst the Iraen. By convincing her of the eminent threat of Asmodean followers, Markadian hoped to gain the Iraen's aid in the coming war. Already an Iraen delegation awaited within the Adarium. Ignatius also had information regarding the king’s second in command, the masterful elven general Vastenus Barca. Vastenus impressed the Cardinal much. He was clearly one of the great tactical geniuses of this age. Lastly the Cardinal revealed that the king took the security of his daughter Bellinda very seriously. So seriously, that he had paid an immense sum of money to have a golem of solid mithral constructed to defend the Adarium. There were other lesser golems in the Adarium but all together they paled before that monster. Kelvin let his new spawn know that his master was pleased, and then promptly gifted the Cardinal to the Fire-Axe to do with as he pleased


On The Wings of Eagles - 16 Pharast, 4718 - 9 Gozran, 4718

Tandengate Prison in Cliffward was an old castle perched precariously on a cliff overlooking the sea. It had a reputation for being a brutal jail, only slightly better than Branderscar. Now it was in poor shape for a fortification, and yet its warden and twelve prison guards still held the walls. They crouched atop the battlements guarding their posts and praying to Iomedae that reinforcements would come. Their prayers were answered…but not in the way they had hoped.

“Reinforcements arriving!” the soldier at the head of small contingent approaching the prison called out. “We’ve got a prisoner transfer as well!”
He nodded over his shoulder at the massive, winged ogre that shambled along in shackles in the middle of the group.
“Wait for the warden!” came the reply from the battlements.
Slowly the large portcullis ground upwards and the warden, Sir Arnon McAnders, flanked by a dozen guards, stepped out to meet his relief.
“Where are you taking this…thing?” Sir Arnon asked, gesturing towards the ogre.
“Prisoner transfer,” the soldier repeated. “Caught him outside the city walls on our way in.”
“Is this all of you?” Sir Anon asked, disappointment on his face. “We can barely feed the prisoners we got. We’d hoped there would be more of you so we could get out of this place.”
“How many prisoners do you still have?” asked the soldier.
“About a hundred,” the warden replied. “Most of them close to starving to death.”
“That’s a shame,” said the soldier. “We’ll help in any way we can, but first would you mind if our priest blessed you and your men?”
“You have a priest with you?” Sir Arnon asked, incredulous. “Of course we’ll accept your blessing!”
The soldier turned and gestured towards another man dressed in the battle vestments of the Iomedaen clergy. The cleric stepped forward, bowed his head and began an incantation. As he spoke, his hands folded before him, no one saw the tiny ball of flame that appeared in his palm. As he finished his ‘prayer,’ he casually flicked one wrist, tossing the flame into the midst of the guards. They watched it arc over their heads, awe and wonder on their faces as they beheld a physical manifestation of the Bright Lady’s blessing. Then it exploded and the screaming began as they were engulfed in fire. Simultaneously, Grumblejack burst his bonds and seized one of the guards who had escaped the brunt of the blast by the throat.
“Watch out, he’s loose!” shouted one of the soldiers.
Twisting his massive hands, Grumblejack broke the man’s neck with an audible snap. Another survivor collapsed to the ground, his throat slit as Katarina materialized from the shadows behind him. The last guard standing managed to draw his sword and rush forward, but Kat flicked a dagger from her sleeve and threw it into his back before he took two steps.
“Wha…what…?” Sir Arnon stammered, looking uncomprehendingly at the carnage all around him.
“Shhh,” Tardaesha soothed, her disguise melting away. “Just look into my eyes and all will be well.”
Sir Arnon couldn’t help himself. He stared into her deep, crimson eyes and his will was lost.
“Now,” Tardaesha continued, “tell us about these poor, lost souls you have locked up inside.”

___________________________________________________________

After defeating the warden and his men, the Knot discovered a whole wing of ragged, poorly fed prisoners. These men ranged from mere thieves to murderers and rapists, and they were all more than happy to swear whatever oaths and allegiances their rescuers demanded in order to gain their freedom. Chained in an isolation cell deep within the prison was a strange looking foreigner covered in exotic tattoos. Among his markings was a fresh brand of a runic “F.”
“Bound for Branderscar, were you?” Tardaesha asked.
The man looked up at her sullenly.
“Whom did you try to assassinate?” Tardaesha went on. “Anyone of note?”
“Markadian,” the man replied in heavily accented Common.
“Oh ho!” Tardaesha exclaimed. “The King himself! You have high aspirations! Did you take this endeavor on by yourself, or were you hired?”
It was at that moment that the man noticed the symbol of Asmodeus hanging from Tardaesha’s neck, and his eyes went wide.
“Did Thorn send you to mete out justice for my failure?” he asked.
“Thorn??” Tardaesha gasped. “How do you…? Wait…who are you, exactly? And don’t even think about lying to me.”
“I am Ifran al-Janbiya, The Wisdom of the Knife. I am the last of the Third Knot,” he replied.
Tardaesha smiled.
“A pleasure to meet you, Ifran. This is your lucky day! I am Tardaesha Dannister, of the Ninth Knot. We have not come seeking your death. Instead, I offer you redemption. Tell me what befell you and the other members of your knot.”
“I and my companions were brought here by Cardinal Thorn to assassinate King Markadian V, Ifran said. “Unfortunately, we ran afoul of a paladin leading a small band, and were defeated.”
“A paladin by the name of Sir Richard, no doubt,” Tardaesha nodded.
“I swore an oath to see Markadiandead,” Ifran continued, “and that oath still binds me.”
“And you may yet see it fulfilled,” Tardaesha smiled again. “For now, though, you will lead this band of rabble, and you shall answer only to me. Welcome to the Ninth Knot, Ifran.”

_________________________________________________________________

Tardaesha had Ifran and the prisoners report to the manor of the baroness and await further orders. As a gift, she drained and killed Sir Arnon, then told Ifran to bury him in a shallow grave.
“He will rise again tomorrow night,” she explained. “One of my spawn, but under your command. Use him as you wish.”
Some of the prisoners informed the Knot before they left of a hidden thieves guild within the sewers beneath the city. Kelvin ordered Ifran to make contact with their leader an offer an alliance in exchange for not wiping them out utterly.

Another month passed in Daveryn, then one day, with no warning, Tiadora returned. She was not alone. Flocking and flying around her were all nine of her erinyes retinue, clad in full infernal regalia.
“Greetings, Ninth Knot,” Tiadora said. “The Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, your master and mine, sends his greetings. Have you enjoyed your stay in beautiful Daveryn? I hear you've been quite the tourists, traveling across the whole span of this metropolis. Tell me, have the locals been friendly?”
“They have been very…accommodating,” Kelvin replied carefully.
Tiadora nodded, then continued on.
“Victory over Talingarde and the culmination of your vengeance draws near, and yet still there is one final errand that must be done. It is time for King Markadian V, called the Brave, to die. You shall be our chosen assassins. Even now the king moves towards Daveryn at the head of an army, easily numbering twenty thousand strong. He is surrounded day and night by his mightiest and most loyal knights. Attacking him at his camp is folly. But the king does have a weakness. He has not marched to war with his beloved daughter, the princess Bellinda, heir and last scion of House Darius. She is watched over by a relatively small honor guard at the Adarium, the palace of House Darius, near the capital city of Matharyn. Perhaps it would be within your purview to infiltrate and slay Bellinda, but that is not our aim. The princess is merely a teenage girl and of little consequence by herself. Instead, it is your mission to endanger the princess. Everywhere the king of Talingarde goes, he bears with him a magical pendant. If ever his daughter is endangered, the talisman signals her peril. With but a word, he can return to the Adarium. He will teleport into his sanctum beneath the palace, eager to save his daughter. Your mission is first to proffer the gravest peril, and when it strikes the Adarium, you are to be in that sanctum awaiting the king's return. As he appears, destroy him. In one swift stroke, you will decapitate the House of Darius. With his death and the death of Bellinda, there will be no ruler of Talingarde. The Fire-Axe will defeat the army here in the ruins of Daveryn and then Talingarde will be ours. But what peril could be so calamitous that the king's most trusted servants would call Markadian away from his campaign to save the kingdom? It can be no simple threat. It must be a threat of legend. Thorn has pondered this problem long and decided there is only one threat in all of Talingarde of worthy stature – the elder wyrm Chargammon the Black. You must find a way to gain Chargammon's service and have him attack the Adarium and slay Bellinda. Chargammon's sunken throne is easy enough to find but it is a fool's errand to enter unbidden. Chargammon slays all who enter without his warrant. And he gives his warrant to no one. Still, Thorn has confidence that you will find a way. This is your mission. Gain the dragon's assistance and then kill the king. There is one more trifling matter. After the king is slain and his palace lies in ruins, Thorn bids you find a book. Perhaps it will be in the sanctum or perhaps in the king's personal chambers. It is the Liber Darian – a large bound volume containing the chronicles of the House of Darius. Fetch it and then break this seal. And then your labors will be done and you shall be rewarded for them. You must sense that this may well be your last mission for the Cardinal. Soon the armies of Talingarde will be broken and their leadership will be shattered. Thorn has always known that Talingarde stands because of four pillars. The first pillar was the Watch Wall Balentyne keeping the northern border secure. It burned by your hand. The second pillar was the Order of St. Macarius. You extinguished their flame. This third pillar is the Knights of the Alerion. They march to their doom against the Fire-Axe. And now the final pillar will fall by your hand – the House of Darius. Of all of Thorn's servants no one has done more than you to see the triumph to its conclusion.
Do not think this will be forgotten when the rewards are given. You will be princes of the realm. The great game enters its last phase. Soon Talingarde will be ours.”

The members of the Ninth Knot glanced at one another uneasily. Finally, Kelvin cleared his throat.
“How are we going to stop Chargammon from simply killing us?”
“ Thorn has confidence you'll think of something,” Tiadora shrugged.
“That's it?” Tardaesha snapped. “We'll think of something? Is Cardinal Thorn trying to kill us?”
“Of course not,” Tiadora waved her hand dismissively. “If the master wanted you dead, you' d be dead. Cardinal Thorn leaves nothing to chance. He didn't tell you how to infiltrate Balentyne and you managed. He didn't tell you how to acquire the Daemon's Gift and you managed. You should be flattered. I deliver many commands of the master to his servants. He trusts you enough to leave you room for your own discretion.”
“Isn't the army that's coming to Daveryn far mightier than the Fire-Axe's horde,” Roger asked. “What's the plan for defeating them?”
“I am not privy to all of Thorn's secret machinations,” Tiadora sighed, “only what he chooses to tell me. However, from what I can gather, our master has something special planned for the forces of Talingarde.”
“How soon must this mission be done?” Kelvin asked.
“As with every mission Thorn gives you, sooner is always better,” Tiadora replied. “However, the army marches across the length of Talingarde. It will likely not be here for a month or two. You have that much time to ensure that it arrives here without the king to command it.”
“Wait,” Dakota interrupted. “We took down three of the four pillars? Do the rest of the Cardinal's minions just suck?”
“Perhaps it is true that you have risen to be Thorn's most elite servants,” Tiadora glared at the vampiress, “but do not overestimate your importance. You may have infiltrated and thrown open the watch wall, but it was only because of the Fire-Axe's army that the wall was broken. You may have recovered the Daemon's Gift but it was only distributed because of Brother Thrain and his dupes. You have been aided every step of the way along your missions. Never forget that.”
Dakota was about to snap back, but Kelvin quickly stepped in.
“What do we know about the Princess Bellinda?”
“What is there to know?” Tiadora shrugged. “She's a nineteen year old girl who has scarcely been out of the Adarium in all her young life. I hear she's quite beautiful. A pity she's going to get fed to a dragon.”
“Are there really no other members of the House of Darius?” Kelvin asked
“There are cousins and relatives by marriage, Tiadora said, “but King Markadian and the Princess Bellinda are the last two surviving direct descendants of the Victor. With their death, the House of Darius will be effectively destroyed.”
“Dragons usually have big piles of treasure hidden somewhere,” Tardaesha said. “After Chargammon eats Bellinda is there any reason why we can't slay the dragon and claim his wealth for ourselves?”
“You plan to betray the great wyrm Chargammon?” Tiadora’s eyes widened. “You are either the bravest souls I have ever met or the most foolish. Chargammon is more than 1,200 years old. He is incredibly wary and fearsome. Betraying him is fantastically dangerous. In fact, I would be cautious of the dragon betraying you. The beast is wicked and honorless or so I hear. But, if you do manage to slay him, his hoard is yours if you can find it.”
“ Should we then keep our plan secret from Chargammon?” Kelvin asked.
“You should tell the wyrm as little as possible,” Tiadora agreed. “However, the ancient beast is a genius and will already know much of what you intend. And I would be wary of lying to Chargammon unless you want to be eaten. Still, do not mention the Cardinal or your ultimate aims. Merely tell him the truth – that you crave vengeance against the House of Darius. Say nothing more.”
“Any advice for dealing with the dragon?” Roger asked.
“Be polite,” Tiadora smiled. “Do not call the dragon by name. Instead, refer to him as something flattering like “Your Magnificence.” Dragons have fantastic egos. You could do worse than to play to this.
“Will the Cardinal help us bribe the dragon?” Lemmy asked, his eyes glittering with greed.
“Bribery?” Tiadora was incredulous. “Old Chargammon is already wealthier than all your dreams of avarice. It is unlikely he will aid our cause for mere coin. Still, a present to soothe his ego might be wise. No, no – money will not be enough. He will require some service. Do whatever must be done to gain the dragon's aid.”
“This Chargammon sounds dangerous,” Roger said. “Surely, there is some other way to threaten the Princess.”
“Unlikely,” Tiadora shook her head. “The Princess is not alone. Trusted knights and priests of Iomedae guard her and see to her safety. These retainers will not raise the alarm unless faced by a truly impressive and overwhelming threat. Chargammon fits the bill like nothing else can. Even if you slip in and slay the princess, the king will simply be told of the tragedy. No, we need him to rush to her aid. And that takes a threat like Chargammon. The Cardinal has long researched this and sees no other way. I would trust his judgment if I were you. Now, if there is nothing else, may fortune favor you, my lords, and know that the Dark Father watches your every deed.”
And with that, she and her retinue vanished.

_______________________________________________________________

“That…sounds insane,” Kelvin said skeptically.
“Yes, but that doesn’t meant it won’t work,” Dakota laughed.
“She does have a valid point,” Tardaesha chimed in.
“So let me get this straight,” Katarina leaned forward in her chair. “From the letter we found in the wizard’s tower, you think that one of Chargammon’s children has been captured by giant eagles. Now you think that we should go and find these eagles, rescue a dragon, assuming he’s still alive, and then somehow convince him to make an introduction for us to his dad. Does that about sum it up?”
Lemmy grumbled something unintelligible into his beard.
“You got that right,” Roger shook his head.
“I don’t hear any better ideas,” Dakota snapped at them. “What’s the worst that could happen? If the dragon’s already dead, at least we still get to pluck the wings off a few big birds.”
“Famous last words,” Kat muttered.
“I think it’s worth a look,” Kelvin said. “Dakota’s right. We really don’t have any other viable options.”

________________________________________________________________

Discovering the location of the eagles’ aerie was simple enough after reading through more of Polydorus’s manuscripts. It supposedly lay in the Ansgarian Mountains, quite near to the Horn of Abaddon. The following evening, Kelvin teleported the Knot to the forest just south of the Horn, and then they began climbing on foot. The Aerie itself was a great cavern built in a hollow mountain peak. The entrance was a round natural fissure in the side of the mountain. The cave floor was rough and full of stalagmites and debris. Two ledges forty feet high surrounded the main cavern and this was where the great courtiers of the Stormborn King perched and squawked their petitions to their sovereign lord. The Courtiers were of extraordinary size even for giant eagles. In the center of the aerie was the Throne of the Storm-born King, a natural column of stone that rose sixty feet and was the preferred roost of the Lord of Eagles. He often sat upon the rise, listening to the calls and cries of his many Courtiers, rarely answering, often considering. However his private nest, at the back of the cavern, was where he roosted with the Knot arrived, for at the base of that perch lay a massive, black-scaled dragon, bound by cunningly worked mithral chains which even included a muzzle.

“Who are you to trespass in my demense without invitation?” the Stormborn King called out in a voice that mimicked his namesake.
“We’re takin’ that dragon,” Lemmy called back “else we’re’ killin’ all of ya’!”
At the same time, Tardaesha shouted at the dragon in its native tongue.
“We are here to free you, friend! Fear not!”
The Stormborn King spreads his wings wide, and as he did, dark clouds laced with lightning gathered in the air above him. His eyes flashed brilliant blue as a thunderbolt lanced down and struck Tardaesha. She jittered and twitched maniacally, smoke rising from her hair. At the same moment, the eagle courtiers all took flight. They flew about the aerie like a great swarm of bats, swooping in low and raking at the companions with their talons before arcing back up into the air. The storm aura surrounding their lord continued to rain down lightning upon the heads of the intruders. The Knot hacked and slashed at the birds when they drew too near, taking down several that were too slow to get out of reach in time.

Meanwhile, Kelvin, who’d rendered himself invisible once they’d entered the aerie, used a dimension door spell to appear beside the shackled dragon.
“I will set you free,” he whispered in the dragon’s ear, “if you agree to listen to my offer and treat with us once your are loosed.”
The dragon narrowed his eyes, but nodded his head once in agreement. Kelvin cast another spell and a thin beam of green light from his finger touched the chains, turning them instantly to dust. Jeratheon flexed his wings once, then spread them wide as he rose to his feet.
“Fools!” he laughed as he launched himself into the air and soared towards the exit.
He was over half-way there when Grumblejack flew into his path. Before the dragon could evade, the big ogre swung his sword flat-side out…hard. It struck Jeratheon in the middle of his forehead and the already wounded drake crashed to the floor in a crumpled heap, out cold.

One by one, the eagles kept falling. Then four of them erupted into flames as Kelvin, no longer concerned with stealth, threw a fireball into their midst. Only one remained. At that moment, the Stormborn King opened his beak and a great gout of lightning spewed forth, directed at Kelvin. In that same instant, the great eagle’s body turned to pure electricity and rode the bolt, reappearing next to Kelvin in a heartbeat. As he reared back to rend the little wizard limb from limb, Kelvin threw up both hands, conjuring a sphere of protective force around him. Enraged, the Stormborn King flew back into the air. Grumblejack slew the last of the courtiers, then Knick-Knack gathered him and Tardaesha close. There was a flash of light, and then the trio appeared in mid-air next to the eagle lord. The winds surrounding him were so fierce, however, that the little cacodaemon was blown away, tumbling end over end. Tardaesha struck quickly, landing threw vicious blows on the Stormborn King. Grumblejack moved in, but the bird whirled on him and seized the ogre in his talons. Wounded and bleeding heavily, the Stormborn King raised Grumblejack towards his beak, preparing to tear out the ogre’s heart. His arms pinned, Grumblejack was unable to bring his greatsword to bear, but at the last instant, just as the huge beak poised to strike, he opened his own tusked jaws and clamped down on the Stormborn King’s neck. The eagle writhed and thrashed madly, but Grumblejack did not let go. He clung there like a bulldog, shaking his head violently until he managed to rip out the great bird’s throat.

_______________________________________________________________

After Jeratheon was securely rebound, Dakota revived him.
“Are you willing to speak with us now?” Kelvin asked. “The consequences or your refusal would be…dire.”
“Do you know who I am?” the dragon asked in a deep, resonant growl.“I am Jeratheon Knights-bane, the son of the great wyrm Chargammon. Free me now and I will ask my sire to spare you when he arrives. He is doubtless on his way now!”
“I find that hard to believe,” Kelvin smiled. “We know you’ve been captive here for quite some time. If your sire were coming for you, he would have been here by now.”
“Free me!” Jeratheon shouted. “I have a great hoard of treasure in my cave! All of it is yours if you will but free me.”
“If we wanted your treasure,” Kelvin explained calmly, “we could simply kill you and then use your corpse to divine its location.”
“Then free me and I will pledge thee my service,” Jeratheon grumbled. “I will serve as your faithful mount carrying you amidst the clouds.”
“You’re not that trustworthy,” Kelvin replied.
“But hold that thought,” Tardaesha interjected.
“Then what is it you want!?” Jeratheon roared.
“Simple, really,” Kelvin shrugged. “We want an audience with your father.”
For a moment the dragon was silent.
“You wish to speak with my sire?” he asked finally. “Why? You must know he'll destroy you. He kills everyone who dares enter his lair.”
“That is not your concern,” Kelvin said. “If he does, then we are no longer your problem.”
“So be it,” Jeratheon agreed. “If that is the price of my freedom, then I would be happy to introduce you to my father.”
“Then we have an accord,” Kelvin nodded.
The mage reached over and plucked out a loose scale from the dragon’s hide.
“Ouch!” Jeratheon whined. “What are you doing?”
“Just a bit of insurance,” Kelvin said. “If you are thinking of betraying us, bear in mind that with this I can use my magic to find you anywhere on the planet.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Tardaesha found it amusing to have her minion reanimate the corpse of the Stormborn King. She and the other non-flying members of the Knot then mounted the horrific zombie bird and took flight, following Jeratheon on the long journey to his sire’s domain. The great wyrm Chargammon made his lair upon a small inhospitable rocky island off the western coast of Talingarde. The isle was surrounded by hull-ripping reefs save for one side. It was rarely named on maps and usually just marked “here there be monsters”. The weather was harsh. The skies were oppressively grey and the wind howled relentlessly. Rain was frequent and driving, furiously pounding the island. Every few years a powerful cyclone emerged from the great open ocean and battered the ragged island further, scraping clean the jagged, chipped grey stone. The isle was dominated by three jagged short mountains that rose from of the sea. Lashed by wave and wind, little grew on the island. The grim bare rock had little soil. Terrestrial plants, when they appeared at all, were small, scrubby and battered.

As the companions and their escort approached the jagged sea cliffs that rose up on either side of the once-usable harbor, they could see a half-dozen or more reptilian creatures clinging there.
“Friends of yours?” Kelvin called to Jeratheon.
“My…cousins,” the dragon grumbled. “Weak, pathetic river drakes.”
As the drakes watched them approach one hissed at Jeratheon, “Why do you return, shamed one? Are ye not banished from thy sire's sight?”
Jeratheon roared in answer to the jab.
“Banished? We quarreled once decades ago. I was but a hatchling then. I have returned great and powerful!”
“And who are your smooth-skin friends?” asked another drake. “Have you brought them for supper?”
The drakes eyed the companions hungrily, as if they were slabs of sirloin.
Roger calmly drew Helbrand from its scabbard and rested its flaming blade upon his shoulder.
“They are guests of my father,” Jeratheon snapped. “Now let us pass or risk both his ire and mine.”
The drakes hissed and spat, but drew aside to let the trespassers through.

Jeratheon led them on, towards the interior of the island, until they reached a large open field ,almost like a bowl, sheltered on three sides by stark grey peaks. Where most of the island was bare of vegetation, there great masses of thorny vines and creepers formed large tangled briars. In spots, a few strange and vividly colored flowers bloomed. The entire garden reeked of the sickly sweet smell of decay. The odor of rotting fish and blooming flowers commingled to create a strange, almost other worldly aroma. Nothing about that place was familiar or comforting. It was like stepping onto another world – primeval and inimical. Jeratheon back-winged and landed, the giant, zombie Storm Lord right behind him. Oddly, it was Lemmy who first slipped off the back of the dead bird, and began wandering, almost aimlessly, towards the middle of the garden.
“Lemmy?” Roger called after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a thick vine, almost like a tentacle, came whipping up out of the green vegetation. It wrapped around the big half-orc’s upper body and yanked him off of the bird.
“We must flee!” Jeratheon roared, and then he went galloping across the clearing, heading for a large cave on the far side.
“Damn it to Hells!” Kelvin cursed.
He’d been expecting some sort of treachery, but when it had come, he’d still be caught unawares. Reaching out, he seized the back of Lemmy’s tunic in one hand and Roger’s arm in the other. He cast a spell, and the three of them vanished and reappeared at the cave mouth in front of the dragon.
“Stay put!” Kelvin shouted into Lemmy’s face, his red eyes holding the dwarf’s gaze.
“Stay put,” Lemmy nodded slackly.

Tardaesha leaped off the back of the Storm Lord and slashed at the still-flailing vine. She heard a shout and a grunt of pain behind her. When she turned, she saw that a second vine had seized Grumblejack and had the ogre pinned to the ground, slowly crushing the life out of him. Grumblejack had dropped his sword when he fell, but he still bit and chewed at the vine with his sharpened tusks. With a few more deft strokes, Tardaesha chopped her vine to pieces. She turned and rushed towards her fallen friend, hacking at the tendril that held him. The vine immediately released the ogre and turned upon her. She dodged and whirled, avoiding its grasping embrace, her sword swinging madly until finally she’d managed to slice off enough pieces of it for it to no longer be a threat. She paused to catch her breath as Grumblejack rose to his feet and recovered his weapon. Then she turned to look towards the cave, where Jeratheon stood facing Roger and Kelvin. She needed to have a word with that dragon.


9 Gozran, 4718 - 10 Gozran, 4718 - Dragons Of Winter Night

“And just where were you off to in such a hurry?” Tardaesha asked, her red eyes flashing with anger.
“I told you all to run,” Jeratheon shrugged. “My father apparently added some new guardians since last I visited.”
“Let’s hope, for your sake,” Tardaesha snapped, “that was the last little surprise that we run into.”
Jeratheon snorted noncommittaly then turned and headed deeper into the cave mouth.

It quickly became clear that the members of the Knot were not the first to come looking Chargammon. Over the years, the great wyrm had been visited by knights eager to prove their valor, treasure hunters seeking his hoard, and scholars desiring his secrets. They yet remained in the cold, wet caverns. Their bones littered the floor. Many of the carcasses were half-melted. The dragon's acid breath had obviously softened the victims' skeletons and their living tissues had flowed like molten metal. What remained had dried and rehardened, forming weird sculptures of bleached and fleshless bone. The dragon had adorned his domain with those many grisly trophies. Even more, there were broken weapons and melted armor. There was a mastodon skeleton in one of the side caverns that had been cut neatly in half by a wave of acid taller than a man. In truth, these weren’t meant to scare off visitors. Chargammon was certain that if intruders had made it that far into his lair, a few bones wouldn’t dissuade them from going further. Rather, the sculptures were what Chargammon considered beautiful. The bones were a monument to his power. Nothing was there by chance. He had adorned his foyer with undeniable proof of his might. Chargammon was making a statement – by coming here, trespassers had chosen to join the dead.

Finally, the companions arrived at the expansive grotto that was Chargammon's lair. It was a gigantic flooded cavern adorned only with scattered human and whale bones and murky water.
“I warn you again,” Jeratheon spoke softly, his body visibly trembling, “mind your tongues here, unless you want to have them burned out of your skulls!”
Kelvin shot a warning glance at Lemmy, who lifted his hands innocently.
Jeratheon cleared his throat.
“Father! I have returned!” he shouted.
For several minutes, there was only silence. Then the water in the grotto erupted into an enormous geyser. Chargammon was truly a monster of legend. He was gigantic – just shy of fifty feet long. His frame was light for his size and still the beast crested more than forty five tons in weight. His wet skin was glossy black and everywhere a litany of scars and small wounds revealed centuries of foolish dragon hunters trying to slay this horror. His eyes burned red as hellfire and there was an almost palpable evil aura about him. The only light in his cavern came from a half-dozen green ever-burning torches set on heavy iron sconces. They did little but cast the grotto into shadow and cause rippling green reflections of both fire and water to play across Chargammon's massive form. Both Grumblejack and Lemmy found themselves taking involuntary steps backwards as the full weight of the dragon’s menace fell upon them.
“Have your lives proven so worthless, sub-creatures, that you have come here to offer them to me?” Chargammon asked in a rumbling hiss.
“Wait a moment,” he paused, sniffing the air. “You stink of my son. You must be the fools who inflicted the worthless coward on me once more.”
Jeratheon, who had still been skulking in the tunnel behind, slowly slinked into the room.
“To do such a deed,” Chargammon continued, “you must want something. Speak! Why do you seek audience with the great Chargammon?”
“Mighy Chargammon,” Roger stepped forward, “you are a legend among legends. The atrocities you have inflicted upon the world are without peer! Thus, who better to come to mind when one plans on nothing less than toppling the king of Talingarde himself?!”
Chargammon’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Roger took this as a sign that he should continue.
“We have knowledge that King Markadian, currently in the field with what remains of his army after we unleashed the Tears of Achlys upon it, has one weakness which could lead to his downfall: his love for his young, virginal daughter, Princess Bellinda. He has left her at home, under minimal guard, in the Adarium at Matheryn. If there was a sufficient threat to her, hypothetically something like a dragon attack, then the king would return to try and rescue her. When that happened, my brothers-in-arms and I would be waiting. It is for this that we have come to beseech your assistance.”
““Why should I bother?” Chargammon asked. “Within my lair I am all powerful! None threaten me. If I slay the princess and the king survives, surely he will seek vengeance against me. Why rile such a hornet's nest How do I know this is not some trick? How can I be sure you do not foolishly try to lure me forth?”
“Oh magnificent and mighty one,” Kelvin interjected, “chiefest of calamities, master of all dragons, lord of all the world – how could anyone threaten your greatness?”
“A fair point,” Chargammon agreed. “You make a fine case, but you must think me a fool if you think I'll attack the Adarium for nothing.”
“Well,” Lemmy piped up, momentarily forgetting Kelvin’s warning, “we did save yer boy.”
“My son?” Chargammon laughed. “My pathetic worthless worm of a son?”
He reached out casually with one massive forelimb and slapped the younger dragon, sending him sprawling.
“He is worse than nothing!”
Jeratheon hissed back but another growl from his sire silenced him.
““No, before I slay your princess, you must answer my errand with an errand of blood of your own. I too have an enemy who has long pained me. I too have a rival I would see destroyed.”
“Here we go,” Kat muttered, rolling her eyes.
“South of here almost two hundred and fifty miles,” Chargammon continued, “where the Ansgarian Mountains and the Caer Bryr ends is the isle of the pathetic reprobate, the dragon Eiramanthus. It is sometimes named the Straya Avarna on maps. Eiramanthus is a copper wyrm who has long thwarted my plans and mocked my efforts. He thinks himself superior to me because he is beloved by so many. He believes that he is my rival! Hah! He is a bloated, decadent fool! He sits on his island and laughs at me, while he copulates with his three non-dragon concubine-whores. You come groveling to me for aid? First you will aid me! I want him broken and decapitated. I want him purged from this world. You will burn every book, shatter every statue, slaughter every consort and lay waste to his entire island. I want it made into a desolation! I want every passing ship to marvel at its ruin! Do this for me and I will aid you. Now go. And if Eiramanthus still lives, return to me only if you wish to die”

___________________________________________________________________

There was little discussion to be had. Chargammon had made his demand and then promptly vanished back into his grotto, leaving his ‘guests’ and his son to ponder their next step. It would not be hard to find the island of Eiramanthus, based on Chargammon’s description, so it would just be a matter of traveling there, dealing with the concubines of an ancient dragon, then the dragon himself, and burn everything to the ground. Simple enough.

Kelvin decided that teleportation would be their best bet. He gathered his companions around him, focused his mind on the coordinates, and cast his spell. They arrived at the fringe of the Caer Bryr a moment later, overlooking the sea. A mist-shrouded island could just be seen in the distance, but dawn was approaching. The vampires would need to rest while the others kept watch. Nightfall would be soon enough to begin their raid.

As the sun faded below the horizon, the Nessian Knot set out across the water, flying low to avoid detection. An intricate barrier of stone, crystal and coralline reefs lay just beneath the surface of the sea that surrounded the isle. The reef teemed with alien sea life. Strange fish in a wild riot of color danced amongst the reefs, sharing the sea with stranger beasts unseen before upon this world. The reefs made any approach by ship very dangerous. There was a narrow safe passage through this labyrinth at the south end of the island, but without an expert sailor and more than a little luck a ship was likely to wreck upon those jagged rocks. This proved no impediment for the Knot, and they soared over the reef and into a large beach-enclosed lagoon. They had no sooner alighted upon the sand, when the water lapping the shore began to churn as a creature surfaced. She was mermaid-like, with the torso and head of a long-haired woman and the lower half of a sleek killer whale. She held a short spear, but did not seem aggressive, merely wary.
“The island is closed,” she said in a soft musical voice “and the reefs are dangerous. Turn back or imperil your lives.”
“You must be one of the dragon’s whores,” Lemmy snarled.
“I am Setia Swims-The-Sea-Of-Stars,” she said, anger in her voice, “and you are not welcome here!”
“And I am Dakota Dannister, vampiress extraordinaire,” Dak grinned, baring her fangs, “and I’m welcome any damn where I please.”
She raised her bow and, as Setia’s eyes widened in alarm, put an arrow through the agathion’s shoulder. Setia grunted and clutched at the shaft, but her gaze flashed with rage rather than pain.
“You were warned,” she hissed.
She clenched her fist and a shockwave of power rippled out in all directions. The companions of the Knot found themselves buffeted by a crackling blast of frigid cold and electricity. Grumblejack, whose fiendish nature granted him some small amount of protection against such energies, waded forward against the blast. When he reached Setia he swung his huge sword and sent her slamming back into the water. Tardaesha appeared at his side. Vampires were naturally immune to cold, and electricity found it difficult to conduct through their already-dead nerve endings. She thrust her own sword into Setia’s belly as she struggled to rise. Suddenly the water behind her began to boil as an enormous humanoid shape formed completely of liquid rose from the depths.
“Mistress,” it’s gurgling voice rumbled, “you are in danger.”
It raised one battering-ram-like fist and drove it into Grumblejack’s chest, driving the ogre back several paces.
“And you will not be able to save her,” Kelvin replied.
He waved one hand in a complicated pattern and the elemental simply disappeared, banished back to its home plane. Still, its appearance had given Setia a momentary chance to regroup. She flung out a hand and a conical blast of ice and snow lashed out, buffeting the companions. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort. Grumblejack and Tardaesha returned their attention to her and fell upon her in a flurry of steel and violence.

___________________________________________________________________

While the others waited behind on the beach, Tardaesha took to the air, the leathery wings thad had grown beneath her arms since her transformation allowing her to fly like an enormous bat. She loved the feel of the salty night air on her face, and she took a moment to appreciate the unearthly beauty of the island below her, bathed in moonlight. She passed over a serene forest glen with a large, elder cherry blossom standing at its center. Further inland she soared above a beautiful pagoda with the exterior elaborately adorned in frescoes of green stone. They depicted strange scenes of multi-armed gods and bold inhuman heroes engaged in battle against wicked animal-headed demons.
The tiered tower rose four stories and was capped by an elaborately eaved roof that ended in a point. Thousands of wind chimes hung from the eaves and filled the air with an enchanting but arrthymic music. Still further on, beyond a crystalline garden, a three-level tower of white stone rose into the sky, pristine and regal. Tardaesha had seen enough. She wheeled on the thermals and winged her way back to her companions.

“I’m sure the clearing and the pagoda are where the dragon houses his other two concubines,” Kelvin stated when Tardaesha had informed them of what she had seen.
“Not bad accommodations…for whore houses,” Lemmy snorted.
Dakota raised an eyebrow.
“You have something against whores?” she asked.
“Present company excluded,” the dwarf grumbled.
“The clearing is closest,” Kelvin said. “Let’s get there while we still have the cover of darkness.”

They travelled quickly through the night, moving like living (and unliving) shadows. The forest glen was even more lovely than it had looked from the air. Even at night, strange little brightly colored birds and insects nested and crawled upon the unfamiliar flora. Diminutive creatures could be seen cavorting amongst the many flowering plants, twinkling like miniature stars in the verdant garden. As the companions stepped out into the clearing, a figure seemed to emerge from the tree at its center. The strangely beautiful woman was composed completely of blossoms, bark, and antler-like branches. The little sprite-like creatures flitted and flew all about her, whispering in her ears in high-pitched, musical voices.
“My little friends tell me that they can sense evil upon you,” the woman said. “I am Sakura Yoshimune, and such as you are not welcome here.”
“People keep telling us that,” Dakota sighed, “and I’ll tell you like I told your mer-whale friend, I’m welcome wherever I please.”
“I can sense that there are those among you who have passed from mortal existence,” Sakura continued. “This is an abomination.”
“We already kill fish-lady,” Grumblejack grinned, “now you no have so much competition for dragon’s attention.”
Sakura’s face hardened. She touched a gorget that hung around her neck, and as her fingers depressed one its crimson gems, a blast of energy swept over the companions, knocking them all from their feet. Tardaesha quickly scrambled up and charged towards the kami woman.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she sneered as she raised her sword. “We were just going to kill you and move on, but now I’m going to burn this whole place to the ground!”
She swung, slashing through Sakura’s bark-like skin. Red sap trickled slowly from the ragged wound. She tried to back away but Roger blocked her path. The big half-orc hacked at her, unholy power rippling through his blade. Desperate, Sakura stepped back towards a nearby tree…and simply vanished into it.
“Clever girl,” Kelvin said.
He turned in a slow circle, his finger tracing through the air. When he had turned one complete rotation, a ring of fire sprang up around the glen, the flames licking at the grass and overhanging branches of the trees. The sprits shrieked in fear and dismay, and flitted madly about, unable to escape the crushing heat.
“Come out, my lady!” Kelvin called. “Come out or watch your home burn!”
As the fire began to spread, Roger hefted his hell-spawned blade and began hacking at the trees. Sakura felt the pain of her children. She felt it down to her own roots. These monsters would pay for this transgression! Calling upon her own powerful magic, she caused time to come to a complete stop for everyone and everything in the vicinity except for her. She stepped out of her tree and into the clearing. As she felt the flow of time begin to speed up again, she hurled another spell at the living members of the trespassers: Kat, Lemmy and Roger. The three of them were overcome by waves of exhaustion, too weak even to raise their weapons. The vampires, however, were not affected by such trivial things.
“Now, Dakota!” Kelvin commanded.
Dak nodded and cast a spell. A thin stream of emerald light lanced from her finger to strike Sakura. There was no physical effect, but Sakura knew what had happened immediately: it was a dimensional anchor. She could no longer retreat nor travel through her trees. And just like that, her enemies converged upon her. She summoned her magic again, hurling a death curse at the massive ogre. He stumbled, but then kept coming. They reached her, surrounded her. She fought with all of her might, but physical combat was not her forte. She was quickly overcome. As she fell to the ground and breathed her last, she heard Kelvin’s final pronouncement.
“Let it burn.”

_________________________________________________________________

The pagoda Tardaesha had spotted on her reconnaissance fly over was the next stop for the Knot. They assumed it was the home of Eiramanthus’s final consort, and they wanted to make certain that the dragon would have no one to call upon for assistance when they finally bearded him in his lair. There were no windows on the structure, and the only doors were on the lowest tier at ground level.
“We have a problem,” Kelvin said as the companions gathered in front of the twin portals.
“Other than the obvious one, where we are looking for a dragon after killing his three girlfriends?” Roger asked.
“Yes,” Kelvin smirked. “Something more immediate. Technically speaking, this is a private dwelling.”
“So?” Lemmy asked.
“So,” Tardaesha replied, comprehension dawning on her, “Dakota, Kelvin and I cannot enter without an express invitation.”
Lemmy rolled his eyes, and Kat just shook her head.
“I told you no good would come of this,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry,” Dakota smiled. “Just open those doors. I’ll get us an invite.”

The doors opened upon what appeared to be a large, open barracks. Torchlight from wall sconces spilled out into the night as Roger threw the doors open wide. In the gloom beyond, some two dozen individuals were gathered, eating, talking, laughing, and even singing. As one, however, they fell silent, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. They were large creatures, male and female, and appeared heavy and solid, with chiseled, angular features that make them look almost like statues brought to life.
“Oreads,” Kelvin said. “Elemental half-breeds.”
“I am Brarex Azerion,” a large male stepped forward dressed in leathers and carrying a wicked looking double-bladed sword. “I am Captain of the Guard of the Crystalline Garden. The Consort in Red warned us of your coming. You will depart this place immediately.”
“You there,” Dakota, still standing outside the open doors, pointed at a woman carrying a stout glaive. “Why don’t you invite us in?”
The woman stared at Dakota and her hypnotic crimson eyes.
“Won’t you and your companions please come in?” she said flatly.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Kelvin smiled.

Kelvin proceeded to blanket the entire interior of the barracks in a storm of sleet and snow. There were sorcerers among the oreads, and they responded with a barrage of fireballs, but by then most of the companions had already rushed inside. The guardians were at a disadvantage, as it was easy for the individual members of the Knot to get among them and strike with surgical precision. An oread priest was finally able to dispel the sleet storm, but it was already too late. Most of their phalanx fighters were down, and when the sorcerers were exposed, Dakota shot them dead at point blank range. Katarina and Lemmy took out their handful of scouts while Roger and Tardaesha dispatched the last of the fighters, and then cornered Brarex himself. The captain fought like a man possessed until the bitter end.

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