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The next day the shaman of the Money-god returned to little Brienna as he had promised. He called himself Ishani and claimed to hail form a land named “Wudra”, allegedly lying to the south of the Yondabakari river. He looked and dressed strange enough to make this story believable. Be that as it may, he had already learned the lessons of his new home well and thus had the heart of a true Tshamek, doing nothing without being showered with gold. He worked his medicine on Brienna, which admittedly was more powerful than what the wind had granted me and thus she recovered from her dire condition. With her senses restored we tried to learn what had caused the illness. The silly iron people I was travelling with immediately started their usual routine of pressing the child like a common criminal, which prompted me to intervene and try to gain her trust. The girl had been playing on the beach, where she had stumbled upon a strange box filled with silver coins. As a Varisian she was at a disadvantage herself compared to the southern invaders and had never seen such treasure before. She immediately went on a spending spree throughout the city, buying presents for her tribespeople and treating herself to sweets and toys as most children would have done. An ominous feeling gripped our hearts! Considering what we had seen in front of the temple of the Money-god it was not hard to guess that the actions of the unlucky girl could be the source of the many small outbreaks of disease throughout the city. Luckily Brienne could point us to the box, which was not only sinister in appearance, but also was imbued with a strange death-magic. The girl also helped us in tracking down one of the coins she had found therein. Thus I learned that the Tshameks loved their Money-god so dearly, that they even had shamans called Numismatimancers, specialising in distinguishing one coin from another. One of these shamans could explain to us that this piece of silver came from a place called Absalom, lying halfway between the southern banks of the Yondabakari and Wudra. It turned out that the coin itself was just an ordinary piece of silver, only its place of origin and repository were peculiar. Considering the place were the box was found and the origin of the silver, we reasoned that one of the great canoes could have brought it up from Absalom. So we went to ask around at the banks of the Jeggare and learned that indeed only recently one of those vessels had been sunk in the river, since it failed to identify itself. I cautioned my Tshamek brothers and sisters in arms, being a Shoanti scout I had learned more about their stolen land in the short time I was traveling it, than many people who had lived there all their lives. Legend had it that an evil sea witch had made the Jeggare her realm, so we should not dive into its depth unprepared. We thus decided to postpone the expedition until tomorrow and used the rest of the day to visit the estate of the noblemen for whom little Brienna had been working. Our intention was to inform them about the fate of the child and alert them to the disease she could have brought into their home. Arriving at the place that strange Tshamek madness gripped the silly iron folks again. We were received very coolly at the great house, which immediately provoked them into a battle frenzy. It took a lot of reasoning to convince them, that the ultimate decision to make war unto another tribe is within the judgement of Chief-Croft and that their foolish actions could trigger a feud lasting for generations. Being a child of shaman Nimble Griffon and thus able to move unseen like the wind I offered to scout the premises, to make sure that no evil was afoot. This seemed to cool their temper, allowing us to leave in relative peace. The situation in the city was already tense enough and we soon should learn that further escalations where happening entirely on their own, without needing our help. Having arrived back at the market to make purchases for our expedition, one of the queen’s messengers appeared suddenly. He announced the introduction of a new order of medicine men known as “Doctors”, being granted unheard of competency and acting under the special protection of these sinister “Iron girls” the queen recently had appointed as her special bodyguards. Listening to this I could not help but remember the strange discussion we had with Endrin, the War-chief of the Griffon-Rider-Quah, who seemed to have given up hope to unravel the fate of their lost Peace-chief Kalepopolis. At that time, he seemed a bit on the edge, talking with dangerous openness about taking matters into his own hands. Now, with the recent developments in mind, his demeanour seemed a lot less paranoid. Things were definitively starting to look grim. Well, the Shoanti had warned them. Funnily enough among all the Tshameks I had ever lectured about cursing themselves by building on Mashka-Saht-Puyuhoke, Endrin was the only one to ever ask for the reason why. Well, you learn these things as a Shoanti child, but in truth the shamans don’t tell you the reasons and keep it all a secret. The next day we went on our little dive into the depths of the Jeggare and what should I tell you: Of course, there was an evil sea witch! She was a fierce warrior with the spear and could direct the creatures of the sea to act against us, but I already had learned to summon the strength of the great bison and so she ended her wretched live pierced by my sting. In the depth we could make out the silhouette of the great canoe from Absalom and ventured forth to unravel its secrets!

The necromancer and his minions had entrenched themselves deeper within the crypt than expected. We quickly penetrated into areas that were not part of the original ossuary, but made the appearance of belonging to an entirely different complex. We discovered a large hall with holding pens, were utterly miserable Varisians were kept like animals. From what we had seen in the other rooms it didn’t take much imagination to picture the fate, their captors had intended for them. We freed the prisoners and guided them safely back to daylight before we continued our exploration.
The next room looked like an utterly devasted alchemical workshop, laid into ruins by an unknown force – or entity. We should soon discover the source of the mayhem, after breaking down a heavily barred door, that was designed to keep something in rather than out. The denizens of this lair had locked away a monstrosity, made out of scavenged human body parts, woven together and instillied with a necromantic facsimile of life. The juggernaut immediately charged forward, trying to smash us the same way, it likely had previously smashed the laboratory, that gave birth to it. Ko and Agnor, assisted by a strangely apathic Ticaria, made short work of the beast and left it as a heap of twitching flesh upon the floor. Following a hunch, I rummaged through the grisly remains and found my worst fears to be true, when pulling out a small arm covered in Shoanti tattoos. As sickening as it was, the discovery nevertheless left me strangely cold. Everyone dragged down here seemed to have ultimately suffered the same fate, why not Gehken as well?
Deeper within the complex we found another room like the previous one that was still in good condition, with another creature of the same type lying on a stretcher. We could not make any sense out of the strange contraptions and alchemical substances, but it was clear that these gadgets somehow were needed to channel forbidden magic into the monstrosity. A quick examination revealed the head of the creature to be strangely small, more fit for a young human. Nobody spoke a word as I cut it from the shoulders of the abomination and stowed it away in my backpack. Yet another part of poor Gehken. We continued on, passing many a room and corridor, but to our great displeasure could not bring justice to the mastermind of these crimes. In the end we only found what seemed to be the custodian of this nightmarish place. Another one of these strange blueish manikins had made its lair in the last room of the hideout. This one seemed to be more intelligible and spoke the common tongue, but refused to say any word concerning the master. A big fight ensued, in which many a blue devil was pierced by my spear, while my brothers in arms took on the custodian. To my dismay they developed strange antics and instead of striking down the creature with their trusted weapons, they tried to embroil it into an almost comedic wrestling match. I kept silent about the incidence afterwards, to avoid shaming them, since it could have been some weird Tshamek custom they were honour bound to oblige in situations like this. Anyway, they managed to catch the creature alive and thus could question it further, but without producing any results. My dismay grew even greater when they suddenly decided to now put into deed, what they previously refused to do in battle and slew the bound creature on the spot. Not that the creature had deserved a kinder treatment, but since we went through the trouble of catching it, it would have been fit to present it to Chieftain Croft to speak judgment in the name of the tribe and to receive the praise of the other warriors of the City-Guard-Quah.
Upon our return we nevertheless were honoured by shaman DeBear and shaman Thousand Bones, for ending the undead plague and retrieving the remains of Gehken, allowing for a proper burial that should help in appeasing the outraged Shoanti of Korvosa. No sooner had we received our bounty than the Tshameks started to pester the shaman again with their accursed magic dagger, which prompted de Bear to kick us out of her temple. But we should not have tarried any longer anyway, since the streets were in uproar again. It seems that the former king did not die a natural death but rather fell victim to a plot against his life. There already was a bounty on the head of one Trinia Sabor, a rather obscure artist from the bad parts of the city. So, we picked ourselves up and raced to the encampment of the City-Guard, assuming that the Chieftain would also be eager to claim the price for the Quah.

The renegades of the City-Guard-Quah were easy to overpower and could be caught alive, as desired by Chieftain Croft, giving here all options for the method of retribution according to the traditions of her Quah. We searched the camp of the traitors and discovered many trinkets, stolen from unwary travelers, buried in the stables and the mortal remains of the waylaid victims, mixed with the guts of animals in the vast vats of the butchery.
I unwisely expected everyone to understand immediately what had transpired, but found that especially the foolish iron man could not grasp the depth of depravity this city had sunken to. Vancaskerkin and his henchmen simply committed robbery, using the uprising as cover, while disposing the bodies in broad daylight as premium cuts over the counter of the butchers shop. It is certainly honorable of Chieftain Croft to try her hand at cleansing this festering wound on the Jeggare River with her small City-Guard-Quah, but I fear evil is too ancient and runs too deep in this place to ever be rooted out.
While searching the place we also stumbled upon a magic blade, which fired up the imaginations of my Tshamek fellows, making them unable to follow any other pursuit than unraveling the secrets of this treasure, dreaming of great riches and power. A trader who would buy the blade was quickly found, but without knowing exactly which properties it held, none of the Tshameks was willing to part with it, suspecting the same treachery that dwelt in their own hearts from everyone else.
Thus we continued to roam the city aimlessly, until Ko had the idea to seek out the shaman of Pharasma in her hall of stone, since she was known to be a great keeper of lore. To our surprise she was in the midst of holding council with Chieftain Croft and another shaman of Shoanti descent, introduced to us as Thousand Bones, hailing from the Skoan-Quah. Gehken, the grandson of Thousand Bones had fallen prey to the machinations of Rolth Lamm, with his dead body sold to a despicable necromancer, identified as Gaedren Lamm by Chieftain Croft. Finally we had found the trail we had been looking for, justifying my decision to swear fealty to the City-Guard-Quah! The sooner I find the murderer of Great Wind, the faster I would get away from the ulcer festering at the mouth of the Jeggare and finally breathe freedom again. I immediately knelt to Thousand Bones and offered my spear to exact blood vengeance upon the necromancer. The shaman refused the offer, but declared that he would accept my services in bringing back the mortal remains of the grandchild, to give him a proper burial as required by tradition. Being Skoan-Quah it seemed reasonable that these were his priorities, so I agreed, since bringing swift but painful death upon the necromancer did not conflict with his request. My Tshamek fellows also agreed and so we were off to the burial grounds, were the necromancer had made his abode in a subterranean ossuary.
The foul presence of a corrupt shaman dealing in death magic was immediately felt upon entering the vault, since the eternal rest of the dead had been disturbed and skeletal bodies roamed the place, their glance fueled with great anger. Having learned to fight together in the service of the City-Guard-Quah, we had little trouble in warding off the undead and shattered their bones. Penetrating deeper into the tomb we happened upon the potential source of the undead plague: Little blueish manikins, chattering in an unknown tongue and committing unspeakable acts on corpses they had strapped to tables. The manikins were highly aggressive and attacked on sight, but seemed not to be too dangerous and were easily broken. But there were many of them and they had rigged the place with traps, so we advanced carefully into their lair. I don’t believe that these creatures could be more than mere servants of Gaedren Lamm, so we will have to continue fighting them, until such time as the necromancer grows angry enough to reveal himself.

Backstory of Walks with Wind:

The burly Shoanti rose swaying from his chair. The faces of the other patrons started blurring in and out of focus, forming swirling bands of colors. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and stumbled towards the exit. Somebody said something behind him, but he neither understood the words, nor did he care who might be speaking. Dread filled him, this place was terrible and these people were awful. Once outside he leaned heavily against the wall and breathed deeply. The cool wind of the night quickly brought relive to his troubled thoughts and cleared his mind. For an endless moment he stared up the tangled alleyway, his face frozen, but his lips moving silently, speaking unheard words, as if fighting an inner struggle. He finally shook his mighty head and turned the other way, further down towards the river. The oily waters of the Jeggare flowed slow and deep, but were easy to reach by its low banks. The man, who was called Great Storm in another life and at another place far away, went down on his knees to splash some water on his hot brow. Suddenly he stopped feeling his legs and fell like a tree, his body still on the riverbank, but his face hanging into the river. Panic stirred in him and he desperately tried to flex his muscles, but his body did not react anymore. It took his last strength to lift his head out of the shallow water. The nighttime sounds of Old-Korvosa seemed distant, as if coming from far away. The sudden stillness was haunting and high in the sky the constellation of the Stranger looked down on Great Storm, cold and indifferent. With horror, but too late, he realized that he could not feel the wind anymore. Then his head sank back.

Great Storm and his little sister Walks with Wind left the endless plains of the high plateau in the spring of 4704 and travelled along the Yondabakari into the lowlands. At the great bend, where the rushing waters turn west towards the sea, they said goodbye to the river and continued southward towards Mashka-saht-puyuhoke, where the Tshameks had erected the Moloch known as Korvosa. Both siblings only recently had claimed their names in the Tamiir-Quah. They were the children of the shaman Nimble Griffon, who according to the legends once was surprised by a great thunderstorm on the open plain. It is told that he wrestled all night with the storm and finally could only best it by breathing it in. They were travelling loaded with Priem, Shoanti Warpaint and other trading goods, planning to spend the winter in the city and to make the journey back to the tribelands next spring after the thaw. But things should turn out differently. They had taken lodge in Old-Korvosa, where Great Storm took a liking to the ways of the settlers from the south. Again and again he stayed lost for many nights, spending their coin for his debaucheries. A bad medicine called Shiver quickly became the worst of his many vices. Brother and sister got estranged and drifted apart, until one day they had a fierce fight and Great Storm stayed lost unusually long afterwards. Walks with Wind finally found his cold body down at the banks of the Jeggare. At the end of her long journey she would return home to the plains of the high plateau with nothing but an urn full of ash. But before that she would go kill a certain Tshamek.