Pathfinder 1E JollyDoc's Jade Regent

Dead Man's Dome

7 Erastus, 4715 - 21 Erastus, 4715

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

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

_____________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

___________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

That must have been an epic battle to play.

It took most of the session, and the group had 1d10 minutes in between waves. Pretty intense

The Paths of the Dead

21 Erastus - 22 Arodus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

_________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________________________________

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

Katiyana's Revenge

22 Erastus, 4715

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

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

_____________________________________________________

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

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

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

________________________________________________________

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

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

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

_______________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, the Balrog is up next?

Ah, next we have a completely turn around as the heroes finally enter Tian Xia. It was very entertaining!

City At The Edge Of The World

22 Arodus, 4715 - 1 Rova, 4715

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

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

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

______________________________________________________

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

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

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

____________________________________________________

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

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

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

_________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

________________________________________________

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

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

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

_____________________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________________________________________________

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

___________________________________________________

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

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

From The Ashes

1 Rova, 4715 - 6 Rova, 4715

Camp again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Devastating fight! Glad the heroes survived, what levels are they at now?