Dungeon Master S's "Giantslayer" AP (Inactive)

Game Master Chris Marsh

Vael thinks long and hard about what Raen has said. He seems to come to a decision and nods. "If anyone can find the rightful inheritors of this floating fortress, it is you, Raen Varkath. Once we're certain this place is safe, I am happy to leave you with this task. Should you wish to do it alone, so be it. But know that help is a Sending away."

He looks to Lykophos, but speaks to the group. "I have other duties that I need to fulfill. Ones linked to this quest."

The shaman then looks at Tulia. "And then, finally, we can rest."

I would join you, Ushyle says to Raen and Whistle Pig, if you will allow it.

He pauses, then continues quietly. And when the task is done, it will be time for me to face the Everbloom.

"My offer stands, Ushyle. I can take you to Elysium. You only need to tell me when you are ready."

I trust that to be so, Ushyle says with a slight smile. And I expect I shall take you up on that offer. But after another journey is done.

Raen simply bows her head in thanks to Vael.

"I can neither command nor forbid you to go where you will, Ushyle," she replies to the half-elf, turning to address him, "but I would appreciate the company nonetheless." She offers Ushyle a gentle smile.

Looking down, she notes the signet ring still worn about the Tyrant's purple finger. Knowledge (Nobility): 1d20 + 17 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 17 + 2 = 31

Raen concludes that the ring is likely Volstus's own design, a symbol of the future he had planned.

Raen plucks the ring from the Tyrant's cold finger and sets it down in front of Doxon. "A task for Agrimmosh, I think," she says, mimicking the smashing of a hammer-fist into her palm.

"Then it is decided. Tomorrow, I shall transport Hamilton, Doxon, and Vael to Trunau, and pay my respects to Halgra, and to Agrit. Accompanied by Whistle Pig and Ushyle, I shall then depart with Zephyr Hall over the sea. Where you wish to go once that task is done, I shall take you."

"There is much for us to do with what remains of this day, to rid this place of dangers, and to gather what remains of the Tyrant's effects, and those of his followers. Whistle Pig, could you please accompany me to search the halls and towers of the castle? Vael, would you be so kind as to have the golem accompany us as well?"

Barring objections: Raen and WP (plus the golem) will search each room we have not yet visited, as well as the courtyards we have not yet visited. T10 with Raen aiding WP is 40, plus Trapfinding +6 if applicable. Others are welcome to help as well.

"One other matter. I am confident that the hidden cache we uncovered in the lower levels was loot forcibly taken from communities in the Mindspin Mountains and beyond. I suggest that, at minimum, we attempt to return the coinage and stones to those communities that survive. Trunau, too, suffered by design of Volstus, and perhaps a portion of that treasure should be offered to its coffers. Perhaps those that will make their home in Trunau could dedicate some effort to finding other communities for reparations as well."

"Aye. I'm happy to take what was stolen back to the rightful owners, though I expect it'll take some divination to find out just who those people are. Still, that's a task Tulia and I can set to."

Over the next couple of days as the party heals wounds both physical and emotional, some make a sweep of the keep - with a mithral golem in tow.

The search starts with the mephit, though he's no where to be found in the minutes after the battle. The party had been rather thorough. In the final battle nearly every living creature remaining came to the upper levels only to die. Some plant creatures in one of the courtyards provide no challenge for the party now that stealth isn't a priority.

In the fountain there is nothing and no one, though an eagle-eyed Whistle Pig finds a naga scale in the fountain.

They catalog a fantastic quantity of materiel. Most of it is in giant-sized gear, but the raw materials could make a large amount of gear for smaller creatures.

There isn't much left of the castle containing valuables. The most valuable items were worn by the fallen. By the time the party is done, they collect 14,000 Gp worth of mundane valuables.

Tulia and Vael also set to find the true owners of the hidden cache of valuables. Unfortunately, divination reveals that they belong to communities of the dead now; they were wiped out by Volstus. It is not lost on the party that the same fate would have befallen Trunau.

For the first time in a long time, Raen rests well that night. Though they have won a great victory, the morning brings sadness: the company will soon be parting. The journey has been taxing, almost beyond belief, and yet...

After breakfast, Raen affixes one of the rider's badges to her tunic as the others make ready for departure. "I shall return before sunset," Raen says to Ushyle and Whistle Pig. To the latter, she adds with a smile, "Try not to get into too much trouble."

At her instruction, Vael and Doxon join hands with Hamilton, mounted and ready on Sammi. With a word and a wave and a touch to Vael's shoulder, the five are gone.

*POP*

Teleport: 1d100 ⇒ 61 ON TARGET

*POP*

The noise and bustle of the Commons atop Bloodmarch Hill is a stark change from the still quiet of Zephyr Hall. Raen lets out a long sigh, lowering her hands, and looks each of the others in the eye. "Welcome home."

Vael smiles, then gives the wizard a mock bow. "Always a pleasure, lady wizard."

He then looks about, struggling to figure out where he should even start. The next few days are going to be a flurry of activity though.

Raen bows in return. She looks across the hilltop to the Ivory Hall, then down the hill to where the House of Wonder peeks out from among the lower rooftops. She had intended to visit both... but no, now is not the time.

"I shall return with Ushyle and Whistle Pig in approximately two months' time," she says. "I hope I may see each of again at that time. In the interim, farewell."

*POP* Greater Teleport

Raen reappears in the skies above Zephyr Hall. She pauses a moment to gaze down at the fortress and, feeling satisfied that no unexpected activity takes place there, flies below it, to Korvosa's Acadamae.

Towards sundown, the clouds bathed reds and purples and golds, she ascends once more to the floating keep and wanders its halls until she finds her companions. "Well, I am back." She sets the diadem that Vael entrusted to her upon her brow. "Shall we begin the journey?"

Back in Trunau the first thing Vael does shows that, despite everything that has happened, he is still the dwarf he was 8 months ago.

He goes and checks on the fermenters in his brewery.

Othdan is surprised to see him burst in, but the poor lad gets very few of his questions answered. At least, not until Vael has tasted the latest batch. Finally, he says, "Alright, not bad. A few tweaks to be made, but you've otherwise been following the recipe I laid out for you."

The dwarf smiles. "Oh, how I've missed this."

============================================

The next day Vael meets with Lykophos. "I've not forgotten our pact," he says, smiling after a good night's rest. "And I plan to do far better if you'll allow it."

The cynosoma raises a curious eyebrow, so the shaman explains. "This town has a tradition to award every youth with a blade when they come of age. They call it a 'hopeknife', but the blade is one they hope to never use. It's meant to prevent a nightmare, but I would argue its grim purpose has probably given a few. But there is a chance for the future of Trunau, and I expect it will show in their dreams."

"I've spoken with Hagra, and she's allowed me to seek out every child in Trunau and record their dreams from the night before. And you and I are going to do that," he chuckles. "This'll likely take several days. Probably even weeks. But I've got the time if you do."

Lykophos smiles beatifically, and the two set to the task at hand of chronicling the gloriously creative dreams of children.

============================================

Many weeks pass, with Lykophos having returned to her home plane, and both he and Tulia start to become restless. Vael lays out several instructions to Othdan, though at this point the boy has pretty much got the process down pat. It's a rare thing for a human to brew ale from Janderhoff, though the dwarves of Trunau have come to accept it. The next day they set off for Korvosa.

"Are you sure we couldn't have done this trip on horseback," Tulia says, her tone chiding the equestrian-averse shaman. Vael grumbles, and peals of laughter ring out from the beautiful azata's throat.

"You keep that up, and maybe I'll reconsider it all," he replies, but clearly doesn't mean it.

When they arrive in the largest city in Varisia the two set about to some shopping, browsing the stalls in the Gold Market. Vael makes a single purchase, a scroll containing a powerful wizard spell. One that can polymorph and object. The shaman then casts a spell of Sending. His message is brief. "Raen, can do me one more favour? I'm in Korvosa, in the Gold Market."

Moments later the familiar popping sound of teleportation magic presages the arrival of the wizard, a face he has not seen now for a bit.

The pleasantries are brief before Vael gets to the point. Handing over his purchase he says, "I've acquired this scroll. Can ye learn the magic and help me by putting your skills to use?"

The Varisian takes the scroll and scans it quickly. She arches an eyebrow at the dwarf. "Of course. But what is your aim?"

"I mean to share the rest of my days following the path of my heart," Vael replies, looking to Tulia. "And the best way I can do that is if I move beyond this form. I mean to become an azata, like Tulia. The heavens have pulled at me for as long as I can remember, and now it's time for us to chase the stars," he grins, the smile broad. "Though I think we'll take the long way around."

Raen looks from one to the other and back again, then nods in understanding. "I see. Give me until the morrow to study this scroll. You may find me at the Keg & Eagle in the morning."

Vael nods, indicating his readiness.

The knock on the door comes when expected. "Good morning, Vael," Raen says, opening the door. "I am ready to begin. Are you?"

"Aye, I'm ready," the dwarf says resolutely. "This is my future, and I appreciate your help."

"Good." Raen sets a key and a few coins on the sill. "Now hold tight!"

*POP*

They reappear in a familiar forest, in a familiar grove. The Mindspin Mountains rise high on either side, and a stillness in the air speaks to a true remoteness. Somewhere nearby, the sun glints on a broad lake. Tulia gasps, but Vael only chuckles. "I see what you did there."

"I thought this a fitting locale for what we are about to undertake." Raen smiles softly, before her expression turns serious. "Now. This magic is not for the faint of heart. What you desire will take time. Do you trust me?"

Vael nods. "I always have. And I always will."

"Then let us begin." Raen's hands and voice dance like raindrops on a pond, pulling threads from distant reaches of the universe, weaving a delicate melody in its fabric. Vael's form begins to change. His beard puffs and billows, then his eyebrows, then his hair. Within a moment, the whole of Vael has become insubstantial, a mass of cloud and wind, shifting this way and that, comically struggling to keep its heavy armor afloat.

"Well, that is not quite right," Raen chuckles softly, like a pianist offering dry commentary between chorus and verse, while the hands keep playing. Vael's form never quite settles; his hair has turned to lightning, and the half-plate eases again around a more human body.

"Almost there." In an instant, Vael seems to shrink into himself, growing smaller and smaller. The hair crackles and turns shock-blonde. At the last moment, butterfly wings sprout out her back.

And there, at last, is Vael Oakfist, the lyrakien azata.

The newly transformed Vael brushes aside a lock of blonde hair, stopping mid-movement. "I'm blonde?"

Tulia giggles, flitting excitedly around the new, er, woman. "I like what a see!"

"I admit I sort of forgot that there were no men among your kind," Vael replies to Tulia, unable to miss how is physique has changed in some very specific ways. Finally, he shrugs. "I'll get used to it."

She then turns to Raen, saying the only two words that need saying. "Thank you."

============================================

Vael and Tulia flit about on butterfly wings, waiting impatiently on the threshold of the place they called home in Trunau. Their packs laden with gear for an indefinitely long journey. They are smiling, their hearts full, but they're also becoming impatient.

Finally, Ushyle emerges, his own pack ready for travel. He nods his readiness.

"Take my hand, and I'll call upon the spirits of heaven to guide us through space. This will feel a bit odd, like you're being pulled apart by thousands of tiny butterfly bites, but it won't hurt," Vael says, preparing the man for what is to come.

When they link hands, swirling starlight surrounds the three of them. Moments later they are gone… only to appear on another plane.
Cast Plane Shift

"Alright lad, welcome to Elysium," Vael says after they adjust the new plane. The land about them is a riot of untouched wilderness. "I think we're not too far from Milani's Garden, but just ask for directions to the next planar creature you see. Or perhaps just pray to her. I'll send a message every day. Just let me know when you're ready for... well, whatever comes next. Aye?"

Ushyle asks a few questions about how they'll keep in contact, and Vael explains the Sending magic he's used before (but never to Ushyle). "If you'll let me check in now and then, I will use my power to see how you're doing. But if you can give me something that is yours, the process will be much easier."

When the Milanite pulls out a battered and tattered copy of The Light of Hope, Vael smiles. "I know what that book means to you. I promise to return it when next we see each other."

Finally, Ushyle says, "I owe you so much already. My life, to be honest; and my place in this new form. I don't regret it — any of it — and I can't think of better companions than those I've had over this past year. I could not ask you to come for me again, yet you have already offered. Your friendship is a treasure beyond every coin we have seen on this journey."

When he finishes, he holds out a hand to clasp forearms. A soldier's gesture, and one that Tulia and Vael ignore as they both flit forward to hug the man. Both are wiping away tears when they break apart. "Good luck lad. We'll see you soon."

And with another bit of swirling starlight, Vael and Tulia disappear.

And on wing and wonder the pair began to travel. For the first few months, their only guide was whim. Then started a map of the multiverse, filling it in with vibrant colors and fantastic art. Before long, the map had a magical book to go with it. Pages upon pages of stories began to fill the book. The best part of a magic book, though, is the fact that are always more pages to fill.

Towards sundown, the clouds bathed reds and purples and golds, she ascends once more to the floating keep and wanders its halls until she finds her companions. "Well, I am back." She sets the diadem that Vael entrusted to her upon her brow. "Shall we begin the journey?"

Raen sets the great castle in motion, heading on a bearing of southwest by west. For the journey, she takes as her demesne the observatory atop the southeastern tower, and spends much of each day exploring the library a level below. There, she hopes to find some record of Zephyr Hall's making, the workings of its engines, or even of Renfal's old master.

She takes a few minutes each day repairing what damage she can about the castle, with careful employ of her own skill as an engineer and as a practitioner of powerful arcane magics. Before long, the breaches in the Gallery and the main hall are both stopped with makeshift repairs.

She also returns to some of her crafting. She channels some of Whistle Pig's own primal fury and hatred of giants into his sling staff, which she hopes will relieve the anguish the halfling feels himself. For Ushyle, she weaves a headband bearing the likeness of Akazerath, but wrought in gold thread. She stores some memory of the dragon's terrible roar into the fabric--a fear that was overcome. And into his bracers, she weaves a powerful abjuration.

Raen delivers each item at dinnertime, when she joins them for a frugal meal the pair had gathered from the giants' remaining stores. Knowing that the food may run out, and she needs none, she limits herself to only a nibble here and there. But she is thankful for the company.

After some time out beyond the Varisian Gulf, Raen adjusts the castle's heading to south by west. A few minutes before meeting the others for dinner, she finds a secluded corner of the rookery to send a message far across the waves.

Raen, not sure what she was expecting, gets an immediate reply, " Raen, your presence bears ill tidings. Tell me of your story. I shall part the clouds. You will know when you get here."

Later that day the seemingly normal clouds part to reveal a mountain thrusting out of the sea. Upon this mountain rests an impossibly large castle complex. On the Northern side of the complex is a place to literally land Zephyr Hall.

A bridge of pure energy extends from the island to the castle. Crossing the bridge is an escort of comfortably clad (and unarmed) cloud giants. They great Raen, Ushyle, and Whistle Pig with smiles. Behind the arrival team is a blind cloud giant. "Greetings", she says warmly in a Taldane with an accent neither Hero has ever heard. "I am Jorifah, and welcome to to Cloudforge. Come, we have much to discuss."

She looks down at Whistle Pig. "Little one, this place was, unfortunately, not built for someone your size. If you know how to ride, I can provide you with more comfortable transport." With a whistle she summons a giant eagle to land next to the halfling.

---------------------------

Over the next two weeks Raen, Ushyle, and Whistle Pig are treated as honored guests. Whistle Pig is in awe of these magnanimous giants. It almost seems like this can't be real, but it is. He gets to meet with all sorts of new giants whom he calls friends. Jorifah is a generous host - in food, lodging, and knowledge. Indeed, Raen spends a fair bit of time in the library where all Transmutation spells from the CRB and APG can be found. There too Ushyle finds a massive number of texts with references to Milani. Apparently the redemption of evil cloud giants has captured the attention of many giants over the generations.

After a stretch of time, Jorifah summons the Heroes for a meal, but she has a more serious tone. "It has been our honor to host you for this time. You honor our work and dear Renfal with your presence. Sadly, I must ask a favor of you. The Cloudforge must remain a secret to all. You have been entrusted with this secret, and we honor your ability to keep it. If word of our existence were to spread, our shores would be besieged by the next Volstus. We ask that you leave Zephyr Hall here. You, however, as well as the other Heroes, may return at any time to visit though. I have forged a collection of tokens, each keyed to your identities. You need only to hold it in your hands with desire to return, and you shall return. This place will always be a comfortable home for you when you need it. I have one more thing to show you."

Jorifah takes you on a walk to the very bottom of the complex, hundreds of feet below the shoreline. There, castle gives way to natural rock. Through a long system of caves you travel. Eventually you come to a door. It is plain, made of stone, but completely unadorned.

"The first giants, the ones who chose this place, found this door. A voice told them that someday outlanders would come to this place and posses the ability to open the door. You are the first outsiders in a thousand years to come. I wonder, can you open this door?"

Before Raen can ponder, Ushyle can prepare for combat, or Whistle Pig can check the door, a limnus of warm light begins to glow around its edges. The door itself fades from reality. Beyond is a fantastic land that is not Golarion. The mere sight of the fantastic castle beyond fills the Heroes with a sense of peace and comfort. Jorifah, blind but sighted, simply smiles. She leaves the three heroes there, giving parting words as she goes. "It seems we are not the only place to offer succor."

Hamilton is disoriented from the teleportation spell—he always is. Sammi, still unused to the travel herself, squawks and wheels in place when the friends appear atop Bloodmarch Hill. Ham calms her with old magic. Once she settles down, the weight of crowd, of the eyes now on them, crushes him. He clears his throat and utters a couple of non-verbal grunts before addressing the people before him.

Clear the... CLEAR THE ROAD!

With that, Hamilton Renaud kicks Sammi into a gentle walk and with downcast eyes he rides the hippogriff towards home. He doesn’t wait for Vael or Doxon, calling back, It’s been an honor. It is inadequate, but the best he can manage right now.

He stables Sammi in AJ’s old stall, not really knowing what else to do. He walks home, purposely avoiding anyone who tries to talk to him. Right now, Hamilton only has a single plan—to return Roderick’s hopeknife, Brinya’s Love, to Brinya. He does, surprising her while she goes about her tasks keeping the house. Brinya gasps at Hamilton’s sudden appearance and the two gaze at each other for a moment before Ham takes the knife from his tunic and gently places it on the table.

It’s done. Anyone who had a hand in the war against Trunau, and who profited from Roderick’s murder, is gone. I don’t think there’s justice in that. But it may be the closest we can get in this world. You should take this. It is my hope that your heart heals. Anyway. You should have this back.

What now?, Brinya asks.

Now... I’m tired. I need a rest. If anyone comes by, I’m tired.

Ham slunks off to his room, leaving Heartspit leaning awkwardly in the corner. Brinya sees to the weapons before having a seat by the fire to consider her future.

Hamilton sleeps for nearly a day. If there are celebrations to follow, Ham is there. He smiles and answers questions and shares stories, but there’s something performative about it that those close to him might recognize. But to all others, he fulfills his duty to Trunau, and right now this duty is about being who the town needs him to be. Dale and Monica’s boy. Ranger of Trunau. Hero.

After that, there is a period of darkness. Not a long one, but Ham spends a good deal of time wandering, both physically and spiritually. But the townsfolk would need to be blind to not notice the shadow on him. Then one evening, Ham wanders into The Ramblehouse and pretends to not notice the eyes on him. He sits at the bar and orders the best ale available, one of Vael’s maybe. Cham smiles politely and a little sad, and reaches for a tankard, but is stopped by a stern word from Ham.

No, Cham. Not that one. That one. With the swirls in the finish. Please., the please is hurried, remembered at the last minute.

Cham pours a draught and slides the tankard to Ham. It’s brand new, and the foam is just shy of overflowing. Ham takes it and slowly slides it around in a single rotation, observing it, marking it. There’s a sudden clash as a member of the waitstaff drops a tray and spills drinks on themselves. The friends they were serving are also splashed with ale and after an awkward moment, three wet people including the barmaid laugh riotously at each other and screech at each other in the way of silly friends, and start to clean up the mess. Cham groans and Ham stares on, a slow smile splitting his face into a stupid grin. He watches for a moment as the trio carefully picks up broken tankard chunks all while laughing at each other. Hamilton turns back to his mug, perfect in this moment. He hoists it to his lips and drinks long and deep, draining it. He stands, leaves a ridiculous tip, and leaves singing a half-remembered song a little off-key.

Despite the hour, Ham walks straight to Ivory Hall and asks to see Halgra. He asks only,

Alright. What needs doin’?

Hamilton Renaud re-dedicates his life to the only vocation he’s suited for: Defending Trunau. The town. Her people. Her way of life. He carries his own hopeknife every day. It is his sincerest wish and hope that most of his time is spent training Trunau Rangers and riders, passing on everything he’s learned and done. He takes on all quests, all duties, and all challenges that Trunau asks of him whatever they may be. And he does it with a song in his heart, knowing that all was done for a purpose. There was a rhyme and a reason, and that heals his soul more than anything else.

He offers Sammi The Hippogriff her freedom if she’ll take it. The two share a bond that came from mourning, but a stable may not be a good home for such a creature. The choice is hers.

He is careful with his wealth and his weapons, storing his arms and armor until they are needed ( right tool for the right job and all). He is also careful with his wealth, saving it for true need and being overly generous with his community when that need is not his own.

Thoughts of his family, his flake of a father and the mother who gave everything she had, drive him to seek to settle down. And he makes his wishes known in the quiet way of small communities, that he is available, his heart open to the possibility of love, and the life that can grow from it.

He lives, and one day will die, a Knight of Trunau.

Each day Hamilton hears the sound of townsfolk outside his door.  His sharp hearing quickly learns to differentiate the children who put their hands to the window and giggle from the adults who do the same - but also leave food on the stoop.

  Sammi spends more than a few hours each day in the sky, but every night she comes home to roost.  

  Halgra's smile is wide, and she's been waiting for this day.  "Well, we need to finish the perches.  Now that archery is compulsory, I've been meaning to get a rotation going in the strategic areas.  You interested in helping make them and the blinds too?"  There's an obvious warmth in her voice that soothes the Roughrider's aches as only a partner can.

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  A few months later, Sammi comes home to roost, and the next day does not go out.  Hamilton, ever busy, thinks nothing of it.  On the second day it piques his senses, so she checks on her.  The noble mount gives him a weak squawk.  Hamilton dips his head, preparing for what is coming soon....  the second squawk is much more hale.  Sammi lifts a wing to show off a clutch of eggs!

Hamilton and Halgra enter the house.  Something makes Ham's sense tingle, and he looks to the corner where the Heartspit is propped.  The feeling goes away as he sees a note and a token on the table.  The token is made of electrum and in the shape of a cloud, but the texture is one of brick.  The note is short and sweet, in a hand he does not recognize.

Hamilton, if ever, it is here.

It is not signed.

With his return to Trunau, Doxon wasted little time wrapping up his affairs there. Trunau had been a home of necessity. Doxon knew there would be few to note his return or his parting. With his only real friends scattering to the winds, the heat of the Forge called to him stronger than ever. Oblivious to the struggles and plans of his friends, knowing only that they were each deep in their own affairs, Doxon took what few possessions of his remained in the brief home they’d shared and departed Trunau in silence.

He trekked the long mountain trails and snowy passes of the Mindspin Mountains to return to Janderhoff. He was a different dwarf now than when he’d left. His faith had bloomed from mere embers into a raging fire. His mettle had been tested so many times and he had been tempered into a fine steel. He returned to his former teachers with the tales of his and his friends' exploits, Agrimmosh and Nargrym’s Hand evidence of their victories. It took time to convince others to join him, as eloquence with words was never his strength, but others faithful to Torag eventually saw virtue in Doxon’s goal of settling Minderhal’s Forge and consecrating it to Torag. He hoped that together they’d be able to reattune the Anvil to Torag’s glory and thus make it a new holy place for dwarfs to worship, live, and thrive.

Doxon and his new companions returned to the Forge and found it as Doxon had last seen it. The halls were empty but the fire burned in the Forge and the Anvil called to them. Doxon knew it would not be easy and that progress would be slow. But, time was something Doxon knew dwarfs had in abundance. More would come and Doxon was determined to be ready for them. He used the blessings of Torag to reshape the interior of the complex, building someplace worthy of his god and suitable for dwarfs to live. And always there was the Anvil. Doxon would spend the many years ahead toiling at the Anvil, shedding sweat and tears to perfect his craft in the hope of forging a new hammer worthy of dedicating to Torag someday.

The first came in the second month.

Doxon's hammer struck the Anvil, producing the music as it always does. This time though there was a second rhythm within the echo. The Warpriest looked up to the main entrance of the Forgehall. There stood a group of dwarves, twenty in number. Each held a hammer in hand, most of them designed for destruction, not creation. Most had shields of bare steel, devoid of blazon or crest. Once the Forgemaster made eye contact, they dropped their packs. One stepped forth, "What needs doing?"

Wordlessly, Doxon pointed to some destruction wrought by his party months ago. He took a deep breath, and returned to work.

In the months that followed more came; sometimes alone, sometimes en masse. Then one day a new face appeared. Dwarves ran to get Doxon, to alert him to a massively armed half-orc who strutted into the hall. He asked to see Doxon. When the dwarves stopped him, he did not resist. Instead he handed one of the guards a token, made of Wolfrum and in the shape of a hawk. He spoke only two words, "For Doxon." Then the half-orc left.

Soon there was a bustling community of dwarves. In time the hall was completely designed to function with dwarves in mind. Goods came and went. Payment in kind turned to gold coin. Industry had returned

The days at Cloudforge seem to pass slowly; a place of peace, knowledge, and creation is a welcome change from the road of desperation and destruction that had been trod for many moons. Raen leaves in Jorifah's care all astronomical plates, two thousand pounds in spare silver, all cloud engineer badges, roc rider badges, and scopes of stormsight, and of course the Cloud Diadem itself. She enjoys conversing with the many giants about the castle complex, observing the engineers at their reparative work, and meandering among the teeming shelves of the library (and of course copying down a few notes for herself).

Time passes unhurried, deliberate, and altogether pleasant. At length, Jorifah calls the three Trunauans together again for a parting.

Before Raen can ponder, Ushyle can prepare for combat, or Whistle Pig can check the door, a limnus of warm light begins to glow around its edges. The door itself fades from reality. Beyond is a fantastic land that is not Golarion. The mere sight of the fantastic castle beyond fills the Heroes with a sense of peace and comfort. Jorifah, blind but sighted, simply smiles. She leaves the three heroes there, giving parting words as she goes. "It seems we are not the only place to offer succor."

Raen can feel a strong pull as she gazes through the door. To leave her world, its troubles, and its anguish behind. To seek wonders anew. To travel beyond limits. She knows not what lies beyond, not exactly, though an inkling forms in her mind, and she smiles at the thought.

But she knows, too, that it is not yet her time to pass through. Peaceful as the days have been, she cannot altogether keep from her mind what she buried beneath Zephyr Hall's heavy flagstones. Nor the dragon she knows still covets that secret. Nor the fire giant queen's parting threat. Nor of those who sought to use the Storm Tyrant himself as a pawn.

No, it is not her time.

"Not yet for me, I think," she murmurs to her companions, after gazing a long while through the portal to another world. "If it calls to you, I bid you go." She waits a while before speaking again. "I must converse once more with Jorifah, then I shall take my leave of Cloudforge. Should you wish to return to Trunau, or any corner of this world, I would be glad to take you there." She turns back towards the surface.

She finds Jorifah standing on the bridge, contemplating the wind as it whistles through Zephyr Hall's battlements. "Master Jorifah, you have been a kind and generous host. I must ask of you one final courtesy: that I may enter Zephyr Hall, alone, to rid it of one last danger. This must never be known, just as the existence of Cloudforge itself must never be known."

* * *

The Gallery is still and empty, the windows shrouded by fog brought in by the late evening sea-breeze. Raen takes a deep breath, staring down at the floor. She gently sets an unadorned leather pouch, crafted carefully on journey here, on a nearby sill. Then her hands and voice begin to sing. The stone along the hallway slithers and slides, encasing the Varisian entirely in a pitch-black box of solid rock, blocking out even the windows, rendering her completely and utterly alone. In the darkness, the wizard’s form warps and grows. Her skin turns to scales the blood-red color of a dying sun. Thick leathery wings sprout from her back, and a spiked tail swings behind her. Smoke fumes from her nostrils, as her massive draconic form settles on its haunches. The dragon’s features shift and clarify into a familiar, leering face. Then the stone at her feet is drawn upward, making a box within a box, before cracking and shattering as huge chunks fall away.

And in the center, an orb like molten glass.

Raen acts quickly, never looking directly at the thing, and never touching it. It dances into the air as if on a puppet's strings, floating towards the waiting maw of the leather pouch. It disappears inside, and the pouch cinches shut. Raen lets out her breath, only now realizing that she had been holding it in. Her hands dance again, and the dragon shrinks down into a woman once more, and the broken stone returns to the hole in the floor, and the encasing box slides away back into the walls, and the grey half-light filters in again through the windows. Raen scoops up the pouch and buries it deep in one of her many pockets, relief heavy on her.

She leaves Zephyr Hall by way of the bridge, never to return.

* * *

Many moons pass. She travels far and wide seeking knowledge that will aid her in the tasks ahead. Raen meets privately with Halgra, impressing upon the Chief Defender that Trunau could ever call upon her if in need, and that she had left a scroll with Agrit for that purpose. Whether from a vantage near or distant, she watches as each of her companions settles into their own next chapters, their own new tales, and is contented. For now, at least, the only one she need risk is herself. And there is much left for her to do.

A small popping sound echoes in the vale above Skirgaard. Raen, dressed in long flowing robes of blues and whites, kneels down to gently brush away some snow from the brow of the mountaintop. She stops, for poking out of the ice and snow is a still-red rose petal, and there the handle of a mug and of a hammer, and over there the leather of a boot and a gauntlet. A single tear rolls down her cheek to fall among them, and then she covers them with snow again.

After one last look at the vast mountain range stretching north and south, where so much had transpired, where so much life was bought and so much stilled, Raen begins what she came here to do. Her voice rises, and her hands trace arcs of reality to and for, weaving and weaving and weaving, creating a tapestry that belongs truly and only to her, shaping a world that is wholly wrought from her own mind. Her song flows down the mountainsides, echoing through hours of toil. In time, this island between dimensions will come to hold a rich forest with bounding streams and waterfalls, trees of fantastical fruits and wild nuts, days and seasons accustomed to Raen and not the other way around, and a natural feeling of goodness and wholesomeness that ever tingles the senses. This place is to become her residence, her library, her workshop, and her safehouse all in one; a solitary eyrie, perhaps, but with peace and comfort and quiet whenever she desires it.

At last, the song and dance conclude; the weave is finished. With a last echoing crack in the mountain air, Raen vanishes from Golarion.

* * *

Some time later, Vael finds a forked metal rod in her backpack that she was sure she had not put there. A note in Raen’s gossamer script is attached.

It reads simply: Tea is kept ready for friends.

"The plane of Elysium is a riot of untouched wilderness, ranging from wild forests to foam-peaked seas to impossibly high mountains, interspersed with hard to reach green valleys. None of the normal trappings of civilization can be found here, the natives preferring to live in small groups and very occasionally gathering for larger meetings. To outsiders, the untamed wilds can seem harsh and uninviting, but the initiated understand its true nature: Elysium is a place promoting selfless cooperation combined with self-sufficiency and the complete lack of external authority."

-Excerpt from Tales of the Outer Planes, by the Archmage Slavicsek, 4688 AR

-----------------

"You seem lost my friend. I can help you."

Ushyle, indeed lost in his own thoughts turns to look at the speaker who looks like a half-elf, wearing a wooden breastplate, wielding a wooden morningstar, and carrying a red rose in her left hand. The thorns from the rose cause blood to constantly trickle down her arm. She has a scar around the entirety of her neck.

The half-elf smiles, "It was not a question. I can help you. My name is Courage Heart." Her Taldane has a clear accent, rare in the Outer Planes. She elides the end of her words, and some of the vowels have a nasal lilt to them. Clearly, she's from Galt.

"More specifically I'm here in order to help you Ushyle of Trunau. Ushyle, son of Warchief Riplock. I've been asked by the Everbloom to begin your training. The first name on your list is Evora Yarket. Since this is your first mission, it is a simple one. We need only find a way to whisper into her ear that there's a better path in live. Ready to begin?"

Ushyle is lost in trying to take in the ever-changing scenery of Elysium and physically starts at the the statement by Courage Heart. He races to compose himself: Um, well met, I am...um, you clearly know my na— did you say son of Warchief Riplock? He does not know the name, nor the name Evora Yarket.

Bewildered, he struggles to put his words together. I, er, I need to speak with the Everbloom, I think. I...I believe I have given her offense with...with my actions, and I would...I must present myself for her judgment.

"You think so?" The half-elf gives a wink. "I'd say you DID, but if I recall, you cut a canyon out of Volstus and left the place smelling like roses."

She smiles, looks at the rose in her hand, and looks at the never ending sky above. "I'll tell you what. The second name on the list is Baroness Adella Voinum, and that one is a bit more your speed. Let's get these taken care of, then we'll go about seeing her. Deal?"

------

The day came. It was after the third name on the list was taken care of. Ushyle got his time with Milani, and that was simply the end of the beginning.

I want to go home, Ham says, his voice hard. I've had enough. I want to walk the paths and range the ways. I want to smell spice-rubbed game on the fire, and drink deep from a kiln-fired tankard and be thankful that I'm alive. I want a family. I've done naught but kill and die in the last... 9... Months? Nay, eight I think. We all have.

He ambles to Nalbia's body. He looks back at Akazerath. He walks over to the body of Volstus. For a moment there's silence, and then Hamilton exhales and starts kicking the enormous corpse over and over again, and yelling.

WE COULD HAVE HAD IT, WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL WHY'D YOU HAVE TO DO IT EH? YOU LIVE IN A GODS-DAMMED CASTLE IN THE CLOUDS YOU HAVE MORE AND MORE AND YOU NEEDED MORE AND MORE AND WHY?!?!

Ketzafieronezeral opens one eye. Specifically he opens the eye furthest from the snowflake human yelling and giving him a headache. Slowly, carefully, he turns his head - playing dead and turning his head like dead people do - towards the sound.

"It may not have been, but built it has been, and here it has found itself," Vael is also puzzled. "Who would you suggest we entrust with this monument of magical might?"

"Fizzlesticks! Stupid mortals won the day. How revolting! How embarassing! Ewwwwwww. I gotta get out of here.

"In time, Zephyr Hall may once more travel the winds as a sanctuary, and may fulfill a dream held dearly by all of cloud giant-kind. For if this castle remains in Avistan, it will ever be viewed as a weapon. It is too beautiful and wondrous for that."

The mephit risks it all and opens both eyes. He turns to see the Heroes of Trunau victories. Flaming farts that's a lot of dead bodies! The mephit "heroically" sits up. He looks around, and immediately takes flight for the window.

DONK!

He bounces off the Wall of Force window.

"How long will it take to get there? Will there be winged beasts? I still need to replace that Roc. I should have tied it up before we left..."

!@E@%^ I gotta get outa here. XXXX takes to the stairs as quickly as possible.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
Fortunately, mephits don't need to eat. Two months later, noise awakens him from the nook within which he was napping.

"We need to replace the buttress here. Whatever fell landed with enough weight to buckle the supports here and here. We'll need to fill the whole area with walls of force and webs to maintain structure until we're done."

SPARKHOLE! Can't they just leave me in peace? XXX waits until the voices are gone and then scurries down, down, down, and then out.

Quickly, before anyone spots him, the mephit rushes into one of the forge chimneys. On the otherside he finds himself in a much more comfortable room. It even has a comfortable bathing area full of molten iron!

Ooooohhhh this is going to be so good. I'm just going to take a little nap, and then get on with the shenanigans!

A knock came at the door and Doxon settled back into his chair. He stared one last time into the mirror. There seemed to be more grey in his beard than the last time he looked. Of course, the last time he'd looked, a third of his beard hadn't been scorched off either. His latest apprentice had offered to trim it, but he'd refused. It would provide a good reminder to himself, and to others, about the dangers of haste at the Anvil.

Yes, come in! he barked.

The door opened and a young dwarf entered.

Excuse me, Master. You asked to be alerted when the caravan was ready.

Hmmm? Oh, yes. Thank you, Harbel.

Doxon eased himself to his feet. It had taken most of the morning to get attired for his journey and the weight of it all now felt unfamiliar. It had been decades since he'd worn his dragonscale plate armor and all of the other accoutrements of his adventuring gear. Doxon moved to his personal altar to Torag and lifted Agrimmosh and The Hammer of Thunder off of their places of honor. He settled them into their harnesses across his back and seemed to stand a little taller than before.

Harbel grabbed the two readied packs by the door and followed his Master out through Torag's Forge.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been too many years since he'd been back to Trunau. It was little on his mind as the business of Torag's Forge and working at the Anvil filled most of his time. He'd lost track, or forgotten, where the other Heroes had scattered to, but he knew Trunau would always be home to one.

Trunau had grown in the years he'd been away, bursting beyond the little village he'd known when he'd lived there. He knew that was in no small part to its greatest hero and protector. He left the care of the caravan and its trade goods to the care of his acolytes. He hefted a small pack over his shoulder and proceeded out of the Trunau.

He walked alone down a simple paved path that led from Trunau out into the wilds and to a solitary bluff overlooking the city. At its edge stood a simple stone stele with a bronze plaque affixed to its front. Several hippogriffs dozed in front of it. They took passing interest in Doxon as he approached and continued their rest, forcing Doxon to gently push past them.

Gah! Move, ya stupid birds!

He came to stand before the stele, ignoring the plaque. He knew who lay here and knew better than most his bravery and deeds.

You know I'm not good with words. I'm sorry I wasn't here in your final days. Being among my kind, it always felt like I had another year before I really needed to come back. And then it was too late. I would have come sooner, but I'm not of Trunau anymore and Trunau needed to mourn you in their way before I could in mine. Plus, I needed time to make this.

Doxon set the pack down and opened it. He reached in and pulled out a polished, mithril egg.

A nice bit of work, if I do say so myself. I hope you find it worthy of a place here.

Doxon placed a hand on the stele and began a short prayer to Torag. The hippogriffs raised their heads to look at Doxon as the top of the stele softened and formed a concave bowl. Doxon placed the egg into the bowl, fitting in perfectly so that the egg stood upright. Doxon tapped the egg once and stood back.

Lines began to appear across the surface of the egg, spiderwebbing in an intricate patter. Seams appeared as the lines separated the surface of the egg and the complex mechanisms inside began rearranging themselves. In a complicated dance of metal and gears, the egg unfolded and reformed until atop the stele stood the perfect miniature replica of a hippogriff; its rider sat with lance braced for the charge. The hippogriff's wings extended in flight, an invisible wind rushing past its feathers. Both the hippogriff and its rider seemed to be racing forward over the bluff, now forever rushing to the defense of the city they loved.

Oh, thank Torag! I wasn't sure that was going to work!

Doxon let out a long sigh of relief and took another brief moment to pray once more. He then laid a hand on the stele.

Good bye, my friend.

Pig thoroughly enjoys his trip out west. He spends the daylight hours exploring the castle and learning all he can about it’s inhabitance. He inspects every item in the castle. Every pen, pot and portcullis. As he pokes and prods, he collects an item from every type of giant he can find to put in his collection., One night during dinner Ushyle ask,”why do you care how many folks they have in a drawer, Little Beaver?” WP chuckles at the nickname. He never really liked it much, but he has finally taken it as a term of endearment. He constantly has to remind himself that his friends love him. ‘Beaver’ comes from a different place than ‘Whistle Pig’. ”It never hurts to learn as much as you can about one’s enemy.” the halfling replies.
WP spends the evenings with Raen in the library. He focuses on the history of giant in Golarian and anything he can find on the lands of Cheliax and the halflings of that land. Pig enjoys he time in the Castle. He even finds time to enjoy some decent pipe weed he found in one of the cabinets.
As the days pass, Pig starts to get a bit nervous. He has no idea how to deal with “kind giant.” He has always met giants with violence because that’s what they have given him. What will he do when he meets those that don’t want to kill him and put him in a stew?
Pig is alongside Raen as clouds part and Cloudforge comes into view. Whistle Pig takes a small breath and holds it for a moment. As the cloud giants come into view his mind goes blank and he resists the thought of going invisible. He says the only thing that comes to his mind, ”I’m glad I’m not wearing giant fingernails as armor right about now…”
To be continued…

WP does what he can to be polite as they are introduced. WP keeps an eye out of any treachery from the giants. He still suffers from the evil and savagery of folks that look just like Jorifah.

She looks down at Whistle Pig. "Little one, this place was, unfortunately, not built for someone your size. If you know how to ride, I can provide you with more comfortable transport." With a whistle she summons a giant eagle to land next to the halfling.

WP is shocked at the offer and is first instinct is the grab a tuft of mane and mount the beast and take to the skies. He then remembers the source of this ‘gift.’

”I’m sorry, I cannot accept this.” WP drops his backpack and removes his new shiny breastplate. ”You see, during our battle to save our home, we fought two giants who look just like you. They were twins. Their names were Nalbia and Nalbus.” Pig removes his shirt to reveal an almost circle scare in the center of his chest that spans nipple to nipple. ”The male, Nalbus, did this to me. I would have died, if it was not actions of my friends.” The halfling , no taller than a human child, stares directly into the giant’s eye, forcing it to see him. A mix of pain and pride rests on the halfling face. ”Gifts are something given between friends. We are not friends yet, but maybe in time we will be.” Pig grabs his trusty broom and says, ”besides, I have my own ride. “
Pig quickly dresses himself again and mounts his broom. He takes a position behind and above Raen’s left shoulder and follows the precession, his hand resting on his sling staff.

Over time, WP takes daily walks with Jorifah so the little halfling can observe Cloud Giant culture and life. Jorifah reminds WP a lot of Silvermane back in Trunau. Pig is given free rein of the island. Pig explores every inch of the island, but he’s drawn back to the eagle aviary. There he makes a connection with the stable hands. He is impressed with their love and care of the eagles and the giants appreciate WP’s skill and ease with the animals.

Before Raen can ponder, Ushyle can prepare for combat, or Whistle Pig can check the door, a limnus of warm light begins to glow around its edges. The door itself fades from reality. Beyond is a fantastic land that is not Golarion. The mere sight of the fantastic castle beyond fills the Heroes with a sense of peace and comfort. Jorifah, blind but sighted, simply smiles. She leaves the three heroes there, giving parting words as she goes. "It seems we are not the only place to offer succor."

WP grins as the door is open. ”I bet there is a lot things to explore there!” but WP doesn’t enter the portal. ” but, I have a few things I really want to in this land before I explore another.”

To be concluded…

In the Untethered Harbor lies a room unlike any other. Even when not present, Raen's intensity hangs in the air. Artifacts mundane and fantastic fill the room, albeit in a well organized fashion. For years now Raen has spent time each day within the room. A presence unknown, abstracted, brooding secret, looks over the contents. Two items in particular stand out.

The first is a massive piece of stone. Upon the stone is a spiral of writing. The spiral takes up the entire stone, spanning a diameter twice the height of a man. The Joten letters have faded slightly, as the stone is so old that the exhale of Groetius has begun to take its toll. For this is The Tale of the Deathless Frost. It is not a replica.

The other is a notebook, well constructed, but well worn. The left hand page contains a genealogical tree. The hand is not Raen's. The names and notation are written in Hallit. The right hand page contains numerous notes, these in Raen's own hand. There is name upon this page, circled with a question mark next to it. The name is Ilivorr Karanasi. From the mark is an arrow leading to another circled term, Frozen Tears.

Here Raen continues the search for answers. And here Raen will find them...

WP’s Return to Trunau was a muted affair at first, He slipped through the streets unnoticed. The streets seemed to swallow even his shadow from sight. Cham Larringfass starts as she turns around to see WP standing right behind her. ”Dearie me! Hamilton said you would be along in a while but he didn’t know when you would arrive.” She says with a smile. ” You will find your room as you left it.”
”You are far too kind, Ma’ma.” Pig returns the smile quickly. He turns to head upstairs, WP pauses and speaks over his shoulder, ”Thank you.” The halfling heads up the stairs.
Pig sets his backpack down and starts unpacking. There are many trophies from many enemies: Drakes, Hydras, Red Dragons and Giants. So many giants. He looks at the pile and realizes that there are a lot missing. Raen needs to stop by so WP can check what’s in that bag of holding.
Over the next few months WP settles into normal life. He spends his time working with the militia, scouting the fields and trails around Trunau, and spending the evening drinking Vael’s finest and smoking pipe weed near a warm hearth. Sometimes Hamilton will join him. The two don’t speak much on nights like that. Two warriors that had seen too much, are comfortable in the silence. One night WP asks something that has been on this mine for a while, “Why are we the only one’s left here in Trunau? They all left without even really saying good bye.” [/b] WP pauses for a moment, ”We didn’t even get to have a party.” Hamilton just grunts. WP takes a swig of his beer, ” That would have been some party.” WP finishes while he smiles into the bottom of his mug.
That night WP walks back to his room but can’t sleep. He tosses and turns for a while. After an hour or so, he gives up even trying. He dresses in a light tunic, a soft pair of boots that match his grey trousers. He pads out of the inn and through the streets.; even the cats don’t notice him passing. He makes his way to Hopespring. He sits there on the edge of the pond and watches the moon set and the sun just start to rise. Pig isn’t surprised when he hears Silvermane slowly walking up behind him. ”How did you know I was here?” WP asks without turning around. The elder druid doesn’t respond until he as settled his bones into a sitting position. ”Some people wear there emotions on their sleave. You, my brave Little Beaver, shout them from the roof tops. I knew when you arrived three ours ago.” WP chuckles,”This is true, it’s one of my faults, but… I have all these emotions and… and if I don’t let them out, I think I’ll… I’ll burst.” Silverman smiles in the early morning light. ”True enough. And we wouldn’t want that would we?” They both sit a moment.
”So what troubles you?” Silvermane prods.
”My future”
“what about it?”
“That’s what I don’t know. Ham and I are the only one’s left. Ham is going to be the next Chief Defender. As soon as Halga retires, that’s where his future lies. Me? I’m just a halfling with a sling. There aren’t any more giants to slay and Trunau is as safe as any place in the world. All the others left to make a difference or explore other places that I will never see. They left to be something greater than they were. I’m just…here.”
“You don’t like where you are or who you’ve become?”
”What have I become?” WP sounds frustrated. ”I’m a former slave with a lot of time of my hands.”
”Aye, That you are. And what is wrong with that considering the alternative?”
Pig is stopped cold with that question. He doesn’t say anything for a long time. The sun continues to rise and his stomach reminds him that this is way past breakfast, but WP was chewing on something else.
After some time, the halfing get’s up and give the druid a strong hug and a pat on the shoulder, ”Thank you, my friend. You know exactly what I need to hear.”
”Any time my friend.” A smile spreads on his face.
WP walks back to the Ramblehouse. He takes a seat in a corner table and waits. He takes a coffee, with spiced potatoes and scrambled eggs. He eats with purpose and waits for his time. When the morning crowd starts to thin, Pig waves Cham over and points to the chair next to him. Pig looks at his fellow halfling with a set jaw behind his welcoming smile. ”You and I have known the lash and the bitter tears of slavery. What do you think of the two of us raising a barn and harvesting our own crops. I’ll do the hard work in the field and you store the crop after it’s harvested and dried?” Cham returns the gaze,”Tell me more. I’m listening”

Over the next few weeks Pig is as busy as a … a beaver. There’s a new addition added to Defenders of Trunau’s house. A two story hunting lodge is created attached to the bunkhouse. In the evening, passersby swear they hear a string instrument playing during the night.
Once construction is complete, WP announces that he will be leading guided hunting tours into the Mindspin Mountains and the Skittermounds. He calls his new enterprise the “The Eagles Nest.” In reality, he has created smuggling path from the Heartlands of Cheliax through the Mindspin Mountains to Belkzen. The halfling slaves find respite in Trunau on their way north, east or west. Pig becomes the scourge of slave owners, trolls, ogres and fire giants alike along WP’s “row”. The operation is funded through a trading protection scheme with the local dwarves of Chystalrock and the selling the hides of flame drakes that inhabit the southern part of the route.
Pig hire a few “guides” to help with is business venture. Over the next few years, the population of halflings grows from 50 halflings to 100. They integrate themselves into Trunau society, many of them join the local militia and Trunau is known for the deadliest squad of slingers in all Golarian.
Whistle Pig grows to old age in Trunau. He sends messages to all True Defenders of Trunau that there will be a Grand party to celebrate Whistle Pig’s 120’s Birthday. He also expects to have a massive Wizard's fireworks display to celebrate the occasion.

The years were kind to Whistle Pig. Everyone in Trunau greeted him with a genuine smile. Traders from nearby towns sought his work. During his day of life celebration the next year a mysterious guest arrived in town. Later half the population who saw him would swear it was a halfling, the other half an elf. Regardless, upon Whistle Pig's bedroom window sill he left an exquisitely carved scale from an ancient red dragon. The scale had been carved in the shape of a stout tower. He showed it to Hamilton, who only smiled and offered brief words, "When you want it, it'll tell you what you need to know." That was it, after all, there was a lot to do that day. The beer to send as a gift to Doxon was ready, and needed to be barreled.

On his 99th birthday, he received an extra special gift. A halfling, much like the one who had visited all those years ago left a belt of exquisite leather. It had an extra four holes in it, for Whistle Pig's fighting form had long since been replaced with a proper halfling's figure.

On the morning of his grand One Hundred and One Score birthday party he awoke to find a note on the stand where he kept the scale, "Sorry, had to borrow it. I'll return it. I PROMISE." When the younger halflings brought Whistle Pig home, the scale was back, as promised.

And thus did a small group of mortals fend off the machinations of the Storm Tyrant Volstus. Not only was their town of Trunau saved by their courage and grit, but so too the shattered country of Lastwall to the South and Varisia to the West.

Golarion is a world filled with fantastic things far beyond the ken of its inhabitants. Heroes and villains rise and fall. And while the tale of the Heroes of Trunau comes to a close, the Call will come to others. As was said in the epic poem, "Fate will unwind as it must." Three years hence to the East in the kingdom of Taldor, another adventure begins when Fate sounds the call.

Finishing an AP in its entirety via PbP is the stuff of legends. It requires a group of players with patience, tenacity, and extreme dedication. This party represents some of my favorite characters played by some of my favorite people in the world. My longest term friend in this party is actually Tony, clocking in at an estimated twenty seven years. The newest is Matt, whom I met right after Jeff, still clocking in at nearly seven years.

This party contains some of the best chemistry and individual play styles I've ever seen in an RPG. It has been my honor to run this table. A long time ago, I made a promise to ALWAYS save each you a seat at the table. I will always keep that promise. In my darkest time this game has always brought me contentment, entertainment, and camaraderie.

EGO GRATIAS SVMMVS VOBIS AGO MI AMICI.

Chris

~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~