The Swordlands - updated 15th June: Interview with a Fey

[Mathew_Freeman]

The campaign Wiki for this campaign, along with some great artwork can be found at The Swordlands but I wanted to share my campaign log with everyone here at ENWorld, too.

For the record, the party set-up is as follows:
Karl, Gnome Rogue
Sigurd, Human Wizard
Aengus, Eladrin Fey-pact Warlock
Iben, Human Ranger Barbarian
Aldis, Dragonborn Paladin
and my own character The Promise of Distant Thunder, a Warforged Cleric.

The campaign is loosely Norse-themed, and we're playing in London, UK on a monday night. I hope you enjoy it.

So without further ado, I present:

[Mathew_Freeman]

The northman looked out of place amongst the wealth and trappings of civilisation, but his host, the trophy hunter, who had so enjoyed hearing his stories had insisted on lavishing food, wine, and fineries upon him. Iben's account of his encounter at sea had captivated him such that he had commissioned an artist to conjure a fanciful likeness of the beast, complete with razor sharp talons and monsytrous jaws, dismissing Iben's protest that he had not actually seen the monster's head, if indeed it even had one.

"Well my friend!" declared Lord Wyvernhoe standing hands on hips before the portrait, "The one piece missing from my collection. You have found me a dragon, and no mistake! I shall have it's head, and you shall lead me to it!"

Within a week a frigate was chartered. The Aurora , a ship of war bedecked with harpoons and bristling with armaments such that a pirate prince would shudder at the prospect of facing her on the open sea. Busy about the deck, a crew of veteran mariners full of rude talk, each one with a keen eye for trouble and profit. And, come the unexpected, a party of adventurers of varied talents who had each been met with offers of highly paid work, enough to take them out onto the high seas in search of monsters. The captain, Lord Wyvernhoe himself, had sailed the seas far and wide in his day, yet he had never seen nor heard of the distant land which the curious northman had arrived. This fact intrigued him nearly as much as the marvellous prize he imagined he would soon boast.

Several months passed at sea. With the clement harbours of Concordance far behind them the waters grew wild and the weather came upon them. With no sign of land nor quarry it happened that the crew took to muttering, cursing their captain and his inane folly, for they did not take to rationing with their sponsor so laden with gold. A ship wrecker of a night it was when Wyvernhoe, far in his cups, came stumbling into the midsts of just such a meeting.

"You worthless dogs!" He shouted, "With our prey near abouts, you find time to plot and connive! Look upon this fine party of fellows over there. They are all accustomed to hardship and deprivation, they understand that great rewards lie ahead and they do not idle themselves in cheap talk! Come the morning I'll have you flogged for your dissent!" Maybe it was small consolation that the sailors were spared a whipping, for that night the beast they hunted came upon them.

Deep beneath the rolling black waters, a dim glow appeared rising, growing larger and brighter until the barnacled hull of the Aurora shimmered with ghostly radiance from below. The ship's bell rang, and as the crew leapt from their hammocks there came an almighty crash. The ship lifted in its entirety into the air before shattering it's timbers like tinder. The crew were hurled in all directions into the icy water, where they were dragged down amidst wreckage and ruin to a watery grave.

A few among them made the surface, and as they emerged they glimpsed a colossal serpentine from, it's coils, long enough to encircle the remains of the Aurora many time around, were lit with scintillating patterns of phosphorescent light, glowing points on the tips of many long fronds that decorated it's body. The survivors struggled helplessly as the body of the beast rolled and turned with effortless grace around them before the waves consumed it, the phantom light spiralling down into the depths of the northern ocean.

Fortunately for the adventurers who had survived the attack, the Aurora's small craft remained intact and now drifted a short swim away. Without oars they soon learned that the vessel hosted a bound elemental within it's rear mounted figurehead which, when properly commanded, would heave a gust of wind into a single sail and thus propel boat and crew forwards. With the nearest land some way to the north the decision was quickly reached to continue on before the beast struck again.

[Mathew_Freeman]

The waters were still full of froth and foam, the aftermath of the Sea Dragon's attack leaving Sigurd floundering in the ocean. Spotting that the Aurora's keelship had survived, she managed to swim over and began to pull herself onboard. An arm, clad in unworked hide, was draped over the side, not moving. As she hauled herself up and onto the deck, she spotted Iben lying almost comatose, the motion of the boat rolling him too and fro.

Sigured flopped to safety, praying to Melora that the beast wouldn't return and destroy this, their only hope of survival. A few minutes later and the diminutive figure of Karl, the Gnome that had been travelling onboard, also made his way onto the boat. Finally, Aengus managed to gain purchase on the side, almost slipping as a particularly large swell caught them, and with the assistance of the others was able to gain the haven of the ship. Of the other passengers and sailors there was no sign in the dim light. The four of them collapsed, exhausted from their ordeal.

Later, as the son rose, they revived a little, exploring the vessel that had saved them. It was noticed that there were some supplies in crates, along with water and several hundred gold pieces of trade goods. There was also a chest stored there, bearing the insignia of Lord Wyvernhoe. Both Karl and Aengus tried to open it, bu the lock was too strong for them. [1] Some good-natured argument ensued as to the relevant methods of lock-picking, made slightly hysterical in the aftermath of a near-death experience.

The dawn brought a wondrous sight to their eyes. Ahead of them, to the North, lay a glittering wall of ice. It stretched as far as they could see East and West, blocking the route North. Dimly, beyond, Iben could see the distant mountains of his homeland, but for now the immediate problem was how to navigate through this imposing wall.

Sigurd had been working on the boat. During their time on the Aurora, she had learned that it needed no oars, instead being powered by an enslaved air elemental concealed within the figurehead at the stern. With some arcane words of encouragement [2], the elemental began to blow air into the sail and the ship moved slowly North, towards the Ice Wall. Iben joined Sigurd at the tiller, happy to steer the ship with Karl and Aengus' direction.

As the Ice Wall drew nearer, cave entrances became apparent. Some were very small, but other loomed high, and the ship passed easily inside the Wall itself. Once inside, the level of light dropped dramatically until Sigurd, gesturing over the magical Orb she carried, was able to conjure forth light of her own. It did not reach far, but it gave the four enough light to continue to navigate.

Staring down into the water, Iben could see Dragon Fish swimming beneath them. The fish, some as much as two or three feet long, had sharp teeth and a nasty temprement. Every year some unlucky fisherman lost a hand or arm to the deadly creatures. However Iben, showing either bravery or foolhardiness, resolved to catch one. In due course it was flopping around in the ship, pinned to the deck by a spear, before Iben darted in, slit it's throat and offered it up with a prayer to Skaadi, Goddess of the Hunt. Clutching one of the many amulets around his neck, he muttered a prayer and offered it up, hoping for a sign of favour from her.

In the distance, another light gleamed, revealing, on the edge of vision, another boat.

[1] Two characters, both with a good Dex score, both trained in Thievery - both end with a total of 19 on their skill checks!
[2] And a successful Arcana check, of course.

[Mathew_Freeman]

Distantly, the other boat's light disappeared behind another twist of the icy channel that they sailed down. As it narrowed, they began to pick up speed, the current becoming a little more fierce. Timbers and wreckage drifted in the sea – the final remnants of the Aurora. The darkness closed in on them as the ice thickened above, blocking the sunlight. Only Sigurd's light, kept low, and Aengus' fey-born ability to see in the dark kept them on course.

The boat swung around a tight bend, and looming out of the darkness the final fate of the Aurora could be seen. The figurehead of the sunken ship had broken free and crashed through a wall here, splintering the ice and causing a cave-in. Through the new gap in the wall, a strange light could be seen shining. Looking through, Aengus could see a large cavern, previously untouched, and illuminated by a shaft of sunlight spearing down through a crack in the ceiling. Stalactites and stalacmites, together with columns of ice several feet thick, filled the space, and the water lapped gently against the shore. Peering more attentively, Aengus spotted what looked like a statue, stood half-buried in ice, upon the floor of the cavern.

Curious as to what this all might mean, the group decided to enter. Their ship sailed gently inside, and Iben was able to moor it using a spear as a mooring-point. The statue was embedded up to it's knees in ice. [1]

It was of humanoid shape, tall and quite thickset, wearing ancient looking chainmail armour. A large morningstar was gripped in one hand, and Sigurd recognised the symbol of the God Kord on it's chest. The figure gave off an aura of calm meditation, although there was something about that made everyone a little nervous.

Karl went ashore first as the lightest member of the group, testing the ground. Finding it stable, he waved the others forward and they approached the statue. Aengus came to a sudden realisation – this was no statue, but a Warforged. He had never seen one before, but tales told in Concordance spoke of sentient constructs, built for war in times gone past. Now he was up close, he could see that behind the helmet two dim glows were visible – the Warforged was certainly active once, and might even be revived now. Looking over the armour and Holy Symbol again, Aengus suggested the Warforged must be several hundred years old.

Sigurd's natural curiosity got the better of her. Stepping forward, she reached out and touched the statue. A shimmering blue light spread from the eye sockets, running throughout the creature, and into the ice below. The ice shattering off it, the head began to turn.

[1] Joe, the DM, was kind enough to work with me to give me this very unique entry into the campaign. More details of exactly how I ended up frozen in ice will hopefully become apparent.

[Mathew_Freeman]

The blue light spread throughout the Warforged's body, illuminating each joint and link. As it reached the floor, it began to spread out across the room, racing across the snow and ice to several other pillars and shapes. Slowly looking from one figure to another, the Warforged appeared to come to some sort of decision. It's mouth opened, and for the first time in more than two hundred years, it spoke.

"Designation: Ally" it stated, staring at Iben. Iben realised that it was looking at the religious icons that he wore around his neck. Quickly, he found an icon of Kord and raised it. "Ally!" he called out.

The Warforged looked down at it's own feet, seeing the ice melting away around it. Letting the morningstar fall to the ground, it stretched out it's arms and shook the accumulated weight of years free from it. Splintering and cracking, the encasing ice fell away slowly, raising a small cloud of ice-dust on the floor. The blue light went with it, spreading further out into the room and flooding the columns of ice that surrounded everyone. At the feet of the Warforged, a symbol of magical power glowed briefly in the floor.

With a loud crack, one column shattered in place! Breaking out from inside was a skeletal figure, clad in the remnant's of armour and clutching a battered axe. It's head turned towards Karl, the nearest living creature to it and it began to advance.

Within seconds, several more loud cracks and crunches heralded the arrival of several more skeletons from around the room, one wading through the water to approach. Dimly, Aengus could hear sounds of more movement from further within the cavern, echoing through the ice.

The Warforged turned it's attention to the skeletons, turning slowly to face the nearest. "Designation: Foe!" it cried out, snatching up the morningstar from it's side and taking a step to form a defensive line with Aengus. The others all drew weapons as well, instinctively closing up a little.

With a terrible rattle of bones and the click of feet on ice, the skeletons attacked!

[Mathew_Freeman]

Reacting quickest of all, Karl ran towards one skeleton and buried his shortsword into it's ribcage, shattering it[1]. Although the skeleton faltered in it's approach for a moment, the necrotic energy driving it on still raged, and it raised it's weapon high. However Aengus, from his position next to the newly-awakened Warforged, called forth a spear of brilliant green and flung it from his hand, and the skeleton collapsed into the snoww. Aengus then moved off to one side, his form fading into the background and he invoked the power of his fey pact.

Two more skeletons attacked the Warforged, blades shining in the light. Smashing his morningstar into one of them, he invoked his Righteous Brand, gesturing for Iben to follow up his attack. Two arrows sped from Iben's bow in as many seconds, and another skeleton crumbled away. The second, however, proved a more elusive foe, it's confident movements and sharp attacks causing the Warforged to suffer a scrape along one arm.

Sigurd, standing near the boat on an icy ledge, turned to see two more skeletons climbing out of the water, their rictus grins promising nothing but pain should they reach her. With a yell, she cast a Thunderwave and a roar of sound struck them both, causing snow to explode out in all directions. One managed to get it's shield in the way, blocking the damage, but the other was pushed back and shaken, falling prone on the edge. It's bones almost cracked under the pressure, but it managed to climb back to it's feet, the light glittering off the icy patches on it's skull.

The skeletons moved in as a group, striking swiftly at those nearest to them. Karl, in particular, found a new foe engaging him and Sigurd, wounding him in the shoulder. With a simple turn and gesture, the Warforged called out a Healing Word, and Karl was astonished to find the wound closing up. He grinned back at the skeleton, hefting his blade and matching it stroke for stroke.

Staying on the edge of the battle. Aengus threw another magical spear, this time managing to curve it around his ally to strike home [2]. Karl, taking advantage of the distraction, slipped into a flanking position with a shouted "Thank you, my Lord!" and attacked his foe from behind as it attempted to slice Sigurd in two. Sigurd, in turn, had made a patch of ground even more icy, causing the skeleton standing upon it to pick it's way carefully toward her rather than running forwards.

All the time, the sound of marching feet was coming from further into the cavern. Were reinforcements arriving? And for who?

Still standing where he had been discovered, the Warforged smashed forwards into the swift skeleton he faced, and as he connected a thunderous roar sounded in the cavern, causing a fine mist of ice to fall from the ceiling [3]. This magical augmentation of his strike dazed his foe, and Iben was able to swiftly dart round behind it, drawing a pair of axes as he went, and do more damage. Finally, with a muttered blessing, the Warforged charged his weapon with fire and swept it through the skeleton's ribcage, crushing it utterly. The fire spread throughout the rest of it's bones, and they quickly burnt to ash. [4]

The tide of battle turned, and Sigurd, Karl and Aengus quickly dispatched the remaining two skeletons, with Iben scoring the final blow. His arrow penetrated the skull of the last skeleton, and the light in it's eyes faded as it slumped to the ground.

As each combatant took a second to catch their breath, the Warforged pointed towards the back of the cavern. Following his gaze, the group could see a further legion of skeletons emerging, and with further cracks and more splintering of ice, more foes started to push their way out of the ice and began to move towards them. The situation looked bleak.

[1] First combat roll of the campaign, and it comes up a critical! What's more, with sneak attack damage added in, Karl did nearly 25 points of damage with his first strike. We were all a little concerned when that wasn't enough to down it!
[2] Cue much joking about "Curving the bullet" a la the film Wanted.
[3] First critical for me! My lucky red dice comes through again.
[4] The attack actually missed, but with Avenging Flame doing half damage on a miss it was enough to take it out.

[Mathew_Freeman]

"Back to the boat!" hollered Aengus, as the new skeletal legion closed in. Further cracking noises in the darkness, combined with the continuing stamp of bony feet from behind the ranks, made everyone swift to comply.

Iben cut the rope holding the boat in place as each person climbed aboard. For a second he wondered at allowing the Warforged aboard – could he really be trusted? – but then thinking of his actions and the way he had healed Karl made his mind up.

Sigurd spoke again to the elemental powering the boat, bidding it take them with all speed back out of the cavern and on their way. With a mighty breath, the boat leapt away from the ice-ledge, skeletons pouring forwards after it. The cavern ceiling and walls began to crack and splinter under the strain, chunks of ice raining down from above. The boat scraped through the opening back into the fast-flowing current outside, riding over the remains of the Aurora for the final time and leaving that doomed boat behind forever.

Any hopes that the skeletons would be left behind as well was soon dashed, however. Caves in the Icewall all around them soon had more figures emerging from them, all clutching weapons. Several leapt down into the boat as it passed, and battle was joined once more. Iben smashed one back with an axe as Aengus fired another green spear. The skeleton he was aiming at ducked, and Sigurd cursed to see a neat hole burned in their sail. Within seconds, however, Karl had struck down the swift-moving foe and ditched it over the side.

At the front of the boat, the Warforged knelt, one hand holding his morningstar. "My Lord Kord!" he called out. "Grant us safe passage through this day, so that we may do your bidding furthermore!" As if to emphasise his point, a skeleton that had been quietly trying to board the boat on one side was smashed back into the water by a mailed fist, the Warforged glaring down at it.

Looking behind, Sigurd spotted another boat of similar size following them. Peering through the gloom, it appeared that black-clad figures were fighting on that boat, too, but they also seemed to have time to draw bows and fire across the water at them.

"Ware arrows!" cried Sigurd, ducking down. The shower of arrows rattled into the boat, but did no lasting harm. Finally, with further exhortations to speed and despite a few more skeletons attempting to hitch a ride, the boat suddenly burst free into clear water, leaving the ice behind. Looking around, it appeared that both the skeletons and the persuing boat had been left behind in the Icewall.

The armour, weapons and bones of their foes still littered the bottom of the boat. The Warforged, Karl and Aengus sifted through them, finally coming to the conclusion that there were at least three different factions amongst the skeletons from clues found in the insignia worn. The bones were dumped overboard, but the armour and weapons kept for possible resale. The sun shining down on them, they set sail for Himinborg.

[crater]

Inside The Ice Wall

[crater]

The Cavern of the Warforged

[crater]

A Fanciful Likeness Of The Beast

[MichaelKnife]

Nice stuff chaps. Looking forward to session 2.

oh and look my first ever post. I lurk no longer.

Michael Knife playing Sigurd Smyrja

[Blackrat]

Wow, that part about your warforged waking was awesome. Must've been fun to play through .

[Mathew_Freeman]

Originally Posted by MichaelKnife

Nice stuff chaps. Looking forward to session 2.

oh and look my first ever post. I lurk no longer.

Michael Knife playing Sigurd Smyrja

Hi Michael - nice to see you here! Thanks for posting.

[Mathew_Freeman]

Originally Posted by Blackrat

Wow, that part about your warforged waking was awesome. Must've been fun to play through .

Yup, I'm very grateful to crater for allowing me to set the adventure up like that. I think several other players have similar interesting backstories that will come to light, so stay tuned for more adventures.

[Blackrat]

Oh definetly. I got a certain Conan/Beouwulf feeling of this so far . Don't know what it is, but it definetly gives a Viking/Germanic vibes .

[FloatingDisc]

Hurrah! Very enjoyable so far, Tallarn! The combat scene lived up to my expectations, as did the description of Promise's awakening. Very cinematic! You and crater should both be proud of a unique moment in roleplaying history, or at least the in the minds and memories of those present.

For those interested, I play Iben, the superstitious, multi-pantheonic(?) ranger. carter worked with me as well to create an interesting backstory that will come to light as the campaign progresses. For now I'll just say that he's not paranoid and superstitious for nothing.

[Mathew_Freeman]

The ancient settlement of Kindraed has stood here on the black sandy shores of the Kindersee for hundreds of years in the shadow of a dark mountain known as Aelfborg. The presence of Aelfheim touches upon every aspect of the lives of the Kindraeder. They offer wine to the spirits of the woods so that in their revelry they will leave the hunters unharmed, they sing to the stars, whose reflections in the night sea are the spirits of the fallen, and they burn effigies to keep malignant spirits deep within the mountain, as it is said to have been cursed long ago.

The wind, the waves, rain and fire, night and day, Alfheim is as much a part of this world as all the gods in the heavens, for whether malevolent or benign, the spirits must be tempered with ancient practices that lie at the heart of this community.

The 13 houses of Kindraed are large and round, built from stones and mud about a central hearth. The villagers are skilled in their crafts, old crones shrouded in coarse black cloth gut dragonfish with a razor sharp knife in their wizened hands. Fishermen cast their nets far across the green waters of the Kindersee, and mother work their looms with spit and spindle while the children tend their fathers pigs in muddy pens on the slopes of the mountain.

[FloatingDisc]

The party sailed through the night toward the fishing village of Kindraed, though it quickly became apparent that the damage done to the main sail by Aengus's errant magic was severe indeed. They came to a decision to set ashore earlier than intended and travel overland to Kindraed rather than row all the way around the spit. The warforged valiantly volunteered to tow the boat behind himself along the shore, and to meet them at Kindraed. That was how they left him after putting ashore, walking grimly into the waves, tow-rope in hand. Slowly the boat lurched after him, seeming to the unaware observer as though it must be crewed by ghosts.

After a short overland trek, the group – sans warforged – crested the wooded rise above Iben's home town of Kindraed, and all stopped in shocked silence at the sight before them. Kindraed was burning! Iben let out a muffled cry of horror as he raced headlong down the snowy slope towards the town, the others following close behind. As he got closer, the hunter noticed that the boahouse was burning; the town's only wooden building. The townspeople had gathered around and were working quickly to contain the blaze that had already engulfed the building's high walls. Ignoring his fellow townsfolk's exclamations of surprise at his sudden return, Iben rushed towards the stricken boathouse. The Kindraeders were shouting something about raiders, but Iben dismissed them as fanciful: Raiders had never dared to strike so close to Himmenborg. From within the boathouse came cries of fear. The villagers were clearly busy with the fire itself, and so it fell to the adventurers to attempt a rescue. Thinking quickly, Sigurd conjured forth a magical ray of ice, temporarily making a safe entrance to the burning building via the window. The party barreled through and once inside quickly located the fisherman, Ingo, trapped inside.

Meanwhile, Karl Il-Tannith, the gnome, was hanging back on the wooded hillside above the town. He kept his keen eyes peeled, scouting for any danger that might present itself, or any clue to the mystery of the burning boathouse. So preoccupied by his task was he that he scarcely noticed the approaching thump thump thump of approaching footsteps. A moment later Karl was almost bowled over as a massive blue-skinned humanoiid thundered past him towards the town! He made out a strange cluster of spikes across the creature's shoulders, and a crude club that looked as though it had been fashioned from an uprooted tree. Cursing himself for his lack of awareness, Karl gave chase to the creature, taking care not to attract it's attention. To Karl's horror, the blue beast crashed headlong through the side of the burning boathouse, the very building into which Karl's companions had disappeared just moments earlier!

[FloatingDisc]

Aengus, the eladrin spell-slinger, whirled about at the massive crash and gasped at the sight of horrid beast that now presented itself, roaring strange words in a harsh alien dialect. Aengus had scant seconds to assess the situation: Iben and Sigurd were trying to free the trapped fisherman, tied by his ankles upside down from the ceiling, and Karl the gnome was nowhere to be seen. He decided to play for time. "Hail!" Aengus called out, revealing his position on the first story walkway above the beast's head, "Can you understand me?" The creature swung it's great shaggy head about, quickly locating the eladrin on his rapidly disintegrating perch. To Aengus' great surprise, the creature responded in some rough alien tongue, it's taloned fingers curling into a fist as it spoke. Aengus decided then to stop wasting time on pleasantries and summoned forth magical energy, using his innate ties to the feywild. Crackling green energy coiled around his slender arm, which he directed down towards blue beast. The beast was taken by surprise, and staggered to one side as the luminous missile tore into it's flank. Karl saw a chance and took it, coming up behind the blue beast and sinking his dagger into the creature's unprotected back. The beast howled with pain and frustration. Aengus showed his awareness was no less keen than the gnome's, and unleashed a second spear of energy directly into the blue beast's face. The torrent of eldritch power lanced directly through the eye and burst out the back of the creature's skull. It collapsed, utterly lifeless, into the flames, but not before Karl could pluck one of the rune-inscribed skulls from it's loincloth for later inspection.

Sigurd and Iben quickly had the fisherman down and took outside where his fellow Kindraeders began to nurse him. The party questioned the party on the night's events. They discovered that a raiding party of reptilian humanoids, along with an orc and possibly other evil creatures had struck, looting the stores and asking, somewhat cryptically, "What's in the mountain?" They were of course referring to Alfheim, the peak overlooking Kindraed, sandwiching the tiny village against the dark shore. For all of Kindraed's long existence the Alfheim had been a source of great fear and mystery. Iben remembered his own explorations of the small mountain as a boy, before the cloying superstition of his people got the better of him. It was said that the mountain was linked to the Feywild, that mystical home of the elves, eladrin, gnomes and other fey creatures, but none could say exactly how. It came out that Ingo's daughter, Inga, had been taken by the raiders, and the Kindraeders said in hushed tones that they'd taken her to the Alfheim. Ingo implored them to go after his daughter, and the party decided to set off immediately, hoping the catch the villains unawares.

[Mathew_Freeman]

The party left Kindraed, with Iben and Karl scouting ahead, following the mass of tracks left by the raiders. Presently, Iben held up his hand, and pointed out to the others where the raiders had evidently split into two groups. One group led towards the shore, where they disappeared, presumably by boat, while the others (a dozen or so, including one unusually large biped) headed towards the small mountain nearby, the foreboding Alfheim. Iben fought to suppress a shudder of fear as he led the party uphill, past the wards and effigies hung by the roadside by his ancestors to keep the baleful spirits of the mountain at bay. The path had changed little since he'd last braved the journey as a headstrong and impetuous youth. He'd been dismissive of the terrors of the mountain then, accompanied as he was by a pair of similarly adventurous friends. He gritted his teeth as a tear ran down his dirty cheek at the memory – one friend hadn't survived the mountain. Brandr. The sword-thin boy with the beak-like nose, quick to rage and quicker to mirth. Iben swallowed and turned to wave his companions on.

The path quickly became markedly steeper, and several times the tall eladrin, Aengus, had to stoop beneath low-hanging branches hung with jawbones, feathers, painted stones, teeth and other primitive wards. Despite the grim decorations, he felt something akin to a homecoming, and knew then that the Alfheim had ties to the Feywild. He held his tongue as the Kindraeder, Iben, muttered about curses and wicked spirits. That one is half mad, he thought to himself. At least.

The roaring of a waterfall came from further ahead, and again Iben was beset by memories. Here is where Brandr slipped. Iben and Porvaldr had turned when they heard a distant crunch, far below them. Brandr was gone. Peering over the sheer ledge, the boys spied Brandr's broken form lying amongst the sharp stones below. Strange, Iben had thought then, he never even cried out as he fell. He'd never come to Alfheim, not until now. "Cursed, cursed… wicked place…" he muttered.

Finally they came to the cave in the mountain. The gnomish rogue, Karl Il-Tanith, took the lead, inspecting the cave before waving the others on to join him. As they crossed the wet scree, Sigurd the wizard noticed a series of footprints leading towards the back of the cave. Following them, the adventurers came to a tunnel leading deeper into the mountain. They all marvelled in silence at the huge stone that lay beside the tunnel mouth. It was obvious from the marks on the floor and walls that the stone had previously served as a door, keeping the tunnel sealed, though to keep something in or out was impossible to tell. The ranger swayed on his feet at the memories. And here is where we turned back, Iben gulped. Last time.

From within the cave, gruff, alien voices echoed outwards. Two creatures were engaged in a heated discussion, but none of the adventurers could understand them. The two argued a moment longer, until it seemed a decision was reached. An explosion rocked the cave, and the party members exchanged various looks of surprise and shock, but no further explosions seemed to be forthcoming. The brave gnome decided to chance some further investigation, and stepped forwards into the tunnel mouth. The short tunnel immediately opened onto another cave, but this one was a true wonder of nature. Crystalline walls and floor dazzled the eye with endless reflections and refractions, filling the air with every colour imaginable. Stalactites and staligmites shot from floor and ceiling everywhere, framing the waterfall that fell past the opening on the far side of the cave like fangs in a frost giant's maw. Karl motioned again for the others to join him. The room held almost a dozen odd-formed humanoids that could only be beastmen raiders. Another blue-skinned beast, kin to that which they'd fought in the burning boathouse, seemed to draw his fellows' attentions, where it was engaged in a discussion with another beastman in the centre of a dark pool. The other was a tall, armoured creature with dark, beastial features and a white mohican haircut. A wicked-looking double-edged axe was strapped across it's back. Between the two talking figures stood what would have appeared to be a statue, had they adventurers not previously discovered a near-identical oddity in the icy caves of Nine Mothers Gap. The group simultaneously wished that their staunch metallic ally was with them then.

The group watched on in curious silence as the blue-skinned beast, cowed by the mohawked beastman's imposing presence, reached out towards the metallic, statue-like form with a shaking hand.

Karl Il-Tanith, recognising a key moment to act, took advantage of everyone's distraction to strike at the nearest beastman. The lizard-like creature let out a hideous rattling cry as it fell to Karl's cruel dagger, and suddenly all eyes were on the gnome. Iben, Sigurd and Aengus let fly with spells and arrows as the beastial horde screamed their rage at the interruption. Despite the sudden mayhem, Karl saw something odd in the dark pool where the blue-skinned beast and the armoured beastman still argued. Where the blue-skinned beast should have been reflected in the pool's dark, still water, there appeared a slender, robed maiden. As the beast reached for the statue-like object, it's tentative, searching fingers turned into grasping claws as it siezed the statue, hefted it above it's head and threw it through the waterfall. The armoured beastman, enraged by what was evidently an affront to his authority, hastily drew his axe and charged the blue beast. Karl's attention was suddenly and shockingly returned to his present, dire predicament as a beastman's spear found it's way past his guard, hooking him in the side above his belt. With a grunt of effort, his foe heaved the stricken gnome into the air, dumping him on the icy floor. Karl felt the air go out of him, but nevertheless made ready to roll to his feet to continue the fray. Sigurd and Aengus did their best to keep the beastmen back, with waves of arcane energy and lances of crackling eldritch power. After a short time, charred beastial corpses abounded, and the spellslingers had found some breathing room. Meanwhile, Iben the hunter found himself beset by enemies where he fought to keep them from slaying fallen Karl. The man and the gnome fought back to back, Karl's blood-slick knife dropping another lizard-like humanoid as Iben discarded his bow of yew and drew forth two woodsman's axes. Aengus turned from where he'd just laid low one enemy with a green lance of energy to see a beastman charging him from the side, a lear of animal cunning drawn across it's scaled face. Against his better judgement, the eladrin drew forth his gleaming silver longsword, lashing out with a perfectly-timed downward diagonal stroke and giving the creature a second smile, this one vertical, and with scant mirth. As he wiped the fine spray of blood from his eyes, the eladrin glanced across the cavern at the raging battle in the dark pool. The armoured beastman swung his wicked axe in a reckless arc, beheading one of his fellows. Staggering forwards, unbalanced by his attack, the beastman chieftan was struck in the back of the head and killed instantly by a massive club wielded by the blue beast. Breathing hard, the beast then dropped it's own weapon, clutching at the grievous wound it bore in it's chest. The adventurers all cried out in surprise as the few remaining beastmen fled from the cave. With obvious effort, the blue-skinned creature bellowed to no one and everyone, this time in the common tongue: "You are not my friend, nor are you my enemy. There is grave danger! Speak to the instrumentality!"

Aengus, noticing for the first time the odd disparity between the creature's appearance and it's reflection in the water, addressed the beast thusly: "How long can you maintain control?" to which the beast answered "He knows!", pointing cryptically at the bemused gnome, Karl, before keeling over in the shallow water, it's dark blood quickly mingling with that of it's former allies. In the eery silence that followed, all eyes turned to the gnome, and Aengus asked "What did the beast mean, Karl?"

The gnome could only shake his head as he answered wearily, "Signs and portents, milord. Sign and portents…"

Epilogue

The party tended to their wounds and searched the fallen, discovering two items of note upon the body of the apparent chieftan: A rune-engraved suit of metal armour, valuable despite heavy battle damage, and a runic greataxe, which Aengus and Sigurd quickly reveal to be enchanted. Iben claimed the axe as his own, while the armour was taken to be traded or sold in town. The party then found their way to the base of the waterfall to where the warforged had evidently fallen, but recovered only ruined parts, which they nonetheless kept (just in case).