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JollyDoc's Age of Worms (Updated 11/30, Epilogue!)
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<blockquote data-quote="gfunk" data-source="post: 2813688" data-attributes="member: 1813"><p>THE ROAD TO LONGSADDLE</p><p></p><p>After a much deserved respite in Waterdeep, during which old acquaintances were renewed, wounds were healed, and gold spent, the League set out upon the Long Road for the more than two week journey to Longsaddle, legendary home of the Harpells. Days were spent in monotonous travel, with Hawk and Giovanni astride Big Alice, and Drasek mounted upon Beaucephalus, his own steed, while the others plodded alongside on foot. Night’s were spent in relative comfort, inside a Celestial Fortress conjured by Grubber each evening. Grumbar’s ‘fortress,’ however, since it was designed to mirror the tastes of its deity, was little more than a large, stone block. What it lacked in aesthetics, it made up for in security, having one door, no windows, and a trapdoor on the roof. Both portals were locked by arcane magic which only Grubber could pass. Each night, the priest would light a Celestial beacon on the rooftop, standing watch all through the dark hours, joined in rotation by Grim, Hawk, and Drasek. The following morning, Grubber would pray for a simple spell to remove his fatigue due to lack of sleep.</p><p></p><p>So it went for the better part of a week, until one afternoon the group ran afoul of a hunting frost giant mounted on a grizzly mastodon. The fellow seemed disinclined to parley, and so the League was forced to resort to other forms of diplomacy. When the battle was ended, the party decided to make their camp a bit earlier than usual…</p><p></p><p>Magnus watched through his crystal ball, just as he’d watched for the past several weeks. Visciannix, his employer, had told him where and how to find the adventurers. It had just been a matter of waiting until the right opportunity presented itself for his own team to strike. It would have been far too risky while the group was in Waterdeep. Once they had set out upon the open road, however, Magnus wanted to establish their habits and patterns. He felt he knew them intimately by now. In truth, the archmage had no personal vendetta against the League. They just happened to be standing between him and a very substantial sum of money. It was strictly business, but it would be no less lethal for that.</p><p></p><p>As he watched the priest light his beacon, he finally turned to his strike force.</p><p>“Blob, you will go first.” The huge elemental simply grunted, and moved towards the gleaming circle inscribed upon the floor of the chamber.</p><p>“Destiny, you and Avalanche will follow,” Magnus continued, “leaving Sabertooth to bring up the rear.”</p><p>The Harpy nodded, then turned towards her other two companions. The one called Avalanche appeared human enough, but his golden eyes betrayed his other-worldly heritage. Sabertooth, however, looked anything but. At first glance, he seemed to be a bipedal tiger, but his overlong arms, which dragged the ground, long snout of a nose, and horrid stench gave away his true ancestry. It was true, she thought with disgust, trolls really would mate with anything.</p><p></p><p>Grubber stood peering out into the night, brightly illuminated by his beacon. He knew that the others though it risky to advertise their presence so boldly, but he thought just the opposite. Any predator in the dark would think twice before attacking any group so confident as to light up the night like a spring dawn. Behind him, Grim paced in silence, making perhaps his fiftieth circuit of the twenty-by-twenty rooftop. </p><p></p><p>The goliath stretched and yawned as boredom set in. While it was true that Grumbar espoused constancy without change, these nightly vigils were testing even His most faithful’s patience. In an instant, everything changed. From literally out of thin air appeared a huge creature, easily fifteen-feet tall, that, though roughly humanoid in shape, appeared to be made completely out of earth and stone. Shaking the ground as it came, it moved with surprising speed towards the fortress, and with one, tree-trunk sized arm, swatted Grubber from the roof like a gnat. The goliath tumbled to the ground like a child’s toy.</p><p></p><p>Grim turned, stunned by what he was seeing. What in the name of Hela Brightaxe was an earth elemental doing here? As he pondered THAT question, two more creatures suddenly popped into existence behind the elemental. The first was a harpy. He recognized her breed from the covey his team had encountered in the lair of the Redeye tribe. The second was a man dressed in a chain shirt and carrying a large, steel shield emblazoned with an oddly stylized helmet in its center. A heavy mace hung from his belt, and a leather headband held back his long, black hair. All of this, Grim took in quickly. Acting purely on reflex, he moved to the back side of the roof, and promptly leaped to the ground below, barely taking note of the impact from the twenty-foot drop. Scrambling to his feet, he began fishing in his belt pouches for his defensive draughts.</p><p></p><p>Grubber still lay on his back, staring up at the behemoth towering over him. He too saw the arrival of the newcomers, and knew this was no random encounter. An ambush was being sprung. With a word to Grumbar, the goliath priest hurled a Storm of holy Shards from his outstretched hand towards the invaders. The human and the elemental ignored the blast completely. Not evil then, Grubber noted with frustration. The harpy, however, was another matter.</p><p></p><p>Destiny screamed as the knife-like shards ripped at her wings and skin. They burned, but with cold instead of fire. Worse, as they struck her, they flared with piercing light, and as it faded, she saw only darkness. She was blind!</p><p></p><p>Grubber struggled to his feet, trying to back around the corner of the fortress and out of the elemental’s sight. He was not fast enough. Another hammering blow sent him reeling. He managed to keep his feet, but only just, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer going toe-to-toe with the brute.</p><p></p><p>Inside the stone fortress, Faust snapped fully alert from his reverie at the sounds of battle just outside the door. Around him, Hawk, Storm, Shay, and Giovanni all sat bolt upright, jolted from sleep. Astonishingly, Drasek slept on, his rumbling snores uninterrupted.</p><p></p><p>As Grubber struggled to shake the stars from before his eyes, he saw a fourth creature appear on the scene. For all the world, it appeared to be a tiger walking on two legs, but there was something misshapen about it…grotesque. Yet, when it moved, it was like watching an arrow in flight. In two strides, it reached the door to the fortress, pulling at the handle, then growling in anger when the magically sealed portal refused to open. In the air above, the harpy seemed to have regained her composure, though from the jerky movements of her head from side to side, Grubber knew his spell had the desired effect. Suddenly, she called out in a beautiful voice that belied her hideous appearance.</p><p>“The Scepter,” Destiny trilled, “It is all we want. Give it to us and your lives will be spared.” Then, incredibly, she began to sing. Her voice was hypnotic in its haunting loveliness, and for a moment, Grubber wanted nothing more than to stand and listen to it. Then, he shook his head violently to clear it, knowing the glamour for what it was. </p><p></p><p>Avalanche saw that Destiny’s music wasn’t going to snare the goliath. Time then for him to act. Slapping his hands together, the aasimar sent a wave of sonic force at the priest, but the goliath ducked behind the building’s corner at the last second, and the blast only succeeded in chipping off a few stones. </p><p></p><p>“Not so fast, little fella,” Blob rumbled as Grubber struggled to put some distance between himself and the elemental. He swung his massive fist again, and the goliath raised his shield, bracing for the impact. As it was, the blow put a sizeable dent in the priest’s magically hardened shield, and he knew instinctively that one more like that would sunder it completely. Grubber had to buy some time. Then, an idea hit him. Thinking back to the wall of water that threatened to drown him and his companions back in Icosiol’s tomb, the goliath quickly uttered the prayer that would bring into being a Wall of Iron. The barrier appeared instantly between him and the elemental, fusing itself into the side of the fortress. Safely out of the brute’s reach, Grubber darted around the back of the shelter, coming face-to-face with Grim.</p><p></p><p>“Get up!” Shay shouted, as he kicked Drasek between the slats. </p><p>“Wha…huh?” the inquisitor mumbled groggily. </p><p>“For the love of Oghma,” Havok cursed, reaching down to grab Drasek by his tunic. “Hang on!” In a flash, the warlock and the paladin vanished, reappearing some forty-feet behind the fortress.</p><p>“Oh…my…” Drasek whispered.</p><p></p><p>“I’m not sure what’s happening out there,” Faust said to the others, “but the first one of you who opens that door before I’m ready is going to get Ego Whipped into butter!” With that the psion morphed his form into that of a grey render. He was none-to-soon in doing so, as at that precise moment, something literally flowed through the front, stone wall of the fortress as if it didn’t even exist. The huge elemental stood staring down at the slack-jawed quartet gazing dumb-founded at him.</p><p>“Nothing beats the blob!” he roared, as Hawk, snapping into action, drove his sword hilt-deep into the earthy mass, then struggled to free it, as if it were stuck in quick-sand. No trace of a wound showed in the creature’s stony hide. Reaching over him, Blob slammed his fist into the face Faust. The grey render/psion was hurled back into the wall. He absolutely despised hand-to-hand combat!</p><p></p><p>Sabertooth was tired of waiting for the mice to come out of their hole, and he wasn’t about to let Blob have all the fun. Darting around the side of the building, he rounded the back corner to find two of his prey conveniently waiting for him. </p><p>“It’d be a shame to bust up that pretty mug of yours,” he growled with a toothy smile at Grim. “Why don’t’cha be a good little fella and just hand over the Scepter?” </p><p>“The only rod I got is attached to this blade!” Grim snarled, and then swung with a two-handed blow at the wreaking half-breed. His axe bit deep into Sabertooth’s hide, as it did, Grim unleashed the magic of the blade in the form of a surge of acid. Sabertooth yowled, knowing that his father’s blood would allow him to quickly heal most wounds, save those from burns…such as acid!</p><p></p><p>Havok and Drasek were still on their backs as they reappeared outside the fortress. Havok could hear the piercing notes of the harpy’s song, and instinctively he knew that if he stepped outside of the inquisitor’s protective aura, he would be overwhelmed by her words and helpless. He had to bring her down first. Taking careful aim, he unleashed an emerald spear of eldritch power, which struck Destiny unerringly. Destiny felt her voice crack, as her skin blackened and burned. Her wings began to falter, and she began to fall…</p><p></p><p>Magnus cursed as he watched the battle unfold within his crystal ball. He could not afford to lose Destiny. Quickly, he snatched one of the charms from the bracelet on his left wrist. When Destiny hit the ground, it was on the floor behind him. </p><p>“Spiral, tend her wounds,” the archmage said absently as he turned his attention back to the matter-at-hand.</p><p></p><p>Shay dove quickly for his bow, and was rewarded with a back-handed smash by the Blob. The rogue careened off the fireplace, and lay momentarily dazed. No good, he thought to himself. This was not his forte. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to the roof of the fortress, where he took a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings.</p><p></p><p>Hawk struck at the elemental again and again, each attack as ineffective as the first. </p><p>“Time to go!” Faust shouted, and before Hawk could protest, the psion snatched him with one large claw, and the pair Dimension Doored out of the fortress too, reappearing not far from Havok and Drasek.</p><p></p><p>Sabertooth watched Destiny vanish and knew that Magnus had retrieved her. He glared in the direction of the warlock who had felled her and realized that the bigger threat lay there, not with the two oafs before him. Turning on his heel, he prepared to sprint towards Havok, but he had not gone two steps when Grim’s axe tangled between his feet, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.</p><p></p><p>Avalanche saw the wily rogue appear on the rooftop and draw a bead on the prone form of Sabertooth. Quickly, the wilder slammed his hands together again, sending another sonic blast in that direction. He smiled as the rogue reeled from the blow, but his smile faded an instant later as an emerald lance of energy tore a hole through his chest.</p><p></p><p>“Unfortunately, we left my weapons and armor back in the shelter,” Drasek said to Havok as the warlock felled another of their foes. “You seem to be handling yourself pretty well. I’m going to gain some altitude, where I can work without either of those wrecking machines down there bearing down on me.” The inquisitor quickly cast a Fly spell upon himself and took to the air.</p><p></p><p>Grubber was glad for the brief respite. He called upon his most potent spell of Healing to mend his shattered ribs and contusions, and was preparing to join Grim in finishing off the tiger-creature, when the wall of the fortress suddenly rippled as Blob stepped through. </p><p></p><p>“Now yer gonna get it!” Sabertooth smiled up at Grim, but then he yelped as a black-fletched arrow, courtesy of Shay, sprouted out of his backside. </p><p>“I don’t think so, bub,” Grim whispered, then slashed furiously at the prone half-breed, loosing a second gout of acid. Though in agony, a blind rage fell over Sabertooth, and he heaved himself to his feet, suffering another blow from the dwarf’s axe as he stood. Despite his almost overwhelming desire to rip the little man’s throat out, he knew the warlock was still the main threat, and now that one was all alone. Again, the half-troll started in Havok’s direction, and again Grim tried to trip him up, but this time Sabertooth was ready. As the dwarf lowered his axe, he seized he haft, wrenching it up and over, while simultaneously sweeping one foot behind Grim’s knees. The dwarf buckled, tumbling to the ground, and then Sabertooth was clear, running in a full sprint towards Havok.</p><p></p><p>As Faust saw the elemental emerge from the fortress, he did exactly the opposite of what every fiber of his being told him not to do. He closed in. He had to get close enough to release a cone of pure mental fire, and do so without catching Grim or Grubber in the backlash. The blast washed over Blob, but the elemental didn’t even slow. Ignoring Grubber, he took two giant steps towards Faust, and then drove two devastating punches into the render’s midsection. From twenty-feet away Grubber heard bones snap, and saw blood gush from the psion’s mouth. </p><p></p><p>Drasek watched as the half-troll closed on Havok. Calling upon the Deific Vengeance of Kelemvor, the inquisitor began reciting a litany of the creature’s past crimes, and there were many. Sabertooth stumbled in his charge for only a moment, but it was enough. Havok summoned his most potent blast, and loosed it completely into the half-troll, literally tearing him in half.</p><p></p><p>“Hey ugly!” Grim shouted, struggling to his feet, and facing the giant elemental. “Over here!” As the Blob turned towards him, swinging his arm in a whistling arc that made even the stout mineral warrior stagger, Grubber darted behind him to Faust’s side. As the psion wheezed and coughed up more blood, the goliath quickly wove a potent curative spell over him, halting his internal bleeding, and mending his punctured lung.</p><p></p><p>Hawk rushed past Grubber and Faust, hoping to draw the elemental’s attention from completely focusing on Grim. The civilar stabbed and slashed at the brute, knowing his blows would be largely a nuisance, but hoping to buy a little more time for Faust. It was a false hope. As Faust tried to back away, Blob struck at him again, aggravating the injuries Grubber had only just healed. Desperately, the psion hurled a ball of psychic energy towards the elemental, but incredibly, the huge, ungainly-looking behemoth leaped into the air, somersaulting completely over the energy ball, which crashed harmlessly into the side of the fortress.</p><p></p><p>As Blob landed, he spun deftly and seized Grim in one crushing fist. The dwarf groaned in agony as the air was squeezed out of him. Holding him dangling in the air, the Blob then proceeded to smash the dwarf again and again with his other fist, sending blood and teeth flying with each blow. In unison, Hawk, Faust, Drasek and Havok struck, sending electrical surges, Hammers of Righteous energy, eldritch blasts and spheres of numbing cold at the elemental. Blob felt himself weakening, but he would have the last word. </p><p>“Nothing…beats…the…Blob!” he shouted, smashing Grim one final time before sinking into the ground and out of sight, leaving the dwarf a broken, bleeding heap.</p><p></p><p>None of the Leagues’ injuries proved fatal, though Grubber’s healing powers were sorely taxed to prevent that. The team continued on their trek the next day, but paranoia set in immediately. Every strange sound or fellow traveler on the road was a potential threat. No one could be trusted. What Ondabar had told them was true: rarely did a piece of the Shattered Scepter reappear in the world without purpose, and when a piece was found, the forces of Chaos were always seeking to claim it. </p><p></p><p>Nine more days on the road passed without further incident. Finally, sixteen days out of Waterdeep, the party crested a hill and gazed down upon Longsaddle. They had passed increasingly frequent numbers of ranches over the past several miles of the journey, outlying settlements of the town itself. The village, however, was small, with scarcely over one-hundred inhabitants. The Long Road was the only street, and the town’s buildings lined both sides of it. The Road led straight to a hill in the center of town, atop which was perched a many-spired, chaotically arranged, and ivy-covered manor house: the Ivy Mansion, ancestral home of the Harpells. </p><p></p><p>The group continued straight through town, their heavy armament and odd mounts drawing many stares, but also smiles and good-natured waves. The plan was to go directly to the manor house and request and audience with Malchor, however as the road reached the base of the hill, Alice came to an abrupt stop. When Hawk urged her forward, she shook her massive head and stared passively at him. Cursing, the civilar dropped from her back and began walking in front of her, but he was suddenly brought up short by an invisible barrier of some sort. </p><p>“Well, it is the home of a wizarding family,” Giovanni shrugged. “We should have expected as much.”</p><p>“What now then?” Grim asked testily. </p><p>“We go back to the village,” Hawk said, climbing up Alice’s flank. “Maybe someone there can tell us the proper protocol for meeting these wizards.”</p><p></p><p>Shay decided to start at the Leaping Hooves, the local stable, while the rest of the group made their way to the Horn and Hoof, the tavern. When Shay entered the stable office, he was met by a heavy-set man with ruddy cheeks and a thick, black beard.</p><p>“Saw you come into town,” the man said. “Name’s Urvon, what can I do for you? Before you ask, though, I’m afraid I don’t have enough space for the elephant.”</p><p>“I’m actually interested in seeing some of your horse-flesh,” Shay replied evenly. “Don’t have a mount of my own, and I’ve been riding shank’s mare for the past two tendays.” </p><p>Urvon nodded, and led the rogue into the stable yard. Several fine looking horses were on display there, but what caught Shay’s eye were the half-dozen or so creatures that stood inside a scale-model corral. They appeared to be horses, but they were no more than six inches in height!</p><p>“What in the world…?” Shay goggled.</p><p>“Ah,” Urvon smiled. “Those are mini-horses.”</p><p>“Mini-horses?” Shay asked. “What do you use them for? Where do they come from?”</p><p>“Well, they’re mostly bred as house-pets,” Urvon said. “You know, just like some dogs are working animals, herders and the like, some are also lap-pets. Ladies love’em. Same goes for the mini-horses. Kid’s adore’em! As for where they come from, well old Malchor Harpell himself breeds’em. Kind of a hobby of his.”</p><p>“Malchor Harpell, you say?” Shay replied. “Funny you should mention him. You see, my friends and I were kind of hoping we might see him while we were in town. We have a business matter to discuss with him.”</p><p>Urvon nodded. “Yeah, I know. Whole town knows. We’ve been expecting you. Malchor left word that your to go to the Gilded Horseshoe, the inn.”</p><p>Shay looked taken aback at this unexpected announcement, but he simply nodded and thanked the stable master, and then set off for the inn.</p><p></p><p>When he reached the Gilded Horseshoe, he found his companions waiting. They had been given the same information as he. The innkeeper was a fat, balding man named Trappy Snulgers. He jovially informed the group that their rooms had already been reserved and paid for. He had their gear taken upstairs, but directed the party members to a private room behind the bar. “The Lady is waiting for you,” he said, winking.</p><p></p><p>When they entered the room, they actually found three people waiting, two of whom most of them recognized immediately. The first was Celeste, the woman who had introduced the team to Urtos in Waterdeep, the young lord who had sponsored them in the Champions’ Games. Celeste looked nothing like she appeared in Waterdeep. There, she had seemed a common street rogue, but now she was positively radiant, and it was immediately apparent to Giovanni that she was not remotely human. She was, in fact, a ghaele eladrin…a celestial! Even more shocking was the man seated at the table beside her. It was none other than Dagsumn, Ondabar’s sage friend who they had last seen as a headless corpse at his manor house in Waterdeep. He appeared hale and whole now. The last person in the room was a stranger, a tall, thin elf woman with a lean, almost wolfish look.</p><p></p><p>“My friends,” Celeste said rising to greet them. “It is so good to see you again, though I’m sorry to see some of those I knew in Waterdeep not among you now. I must first beg your forgiveness for my absence during the aftermath of the Champions’ Games. Malchor had urgent need of me, and I was forced to depart earlier than I had planned. I learned of Dagsumn’s fate too late, but Malchor arranged to have our old friend returned to us, as you can see.” Dagsumn smiled quietly and nodded. </p><p>“Allow me to introduce Cymria,” Celeste continued. “She is Malchor’s personal assistant and go-between.”</p><p>The elf woman stood without further preamble and approached the group. “Celeste and Dagsumn have told me much about you and your quest,” she said tersely, “but if I am to recommend an audience for you to Malchor, I must know everything. So, tell me exactly why you have come, and what it is you seek from my master. Leave nothing out.”</p><p></p><p>Grim, Grubber and Shay began the tale, with the others taking up at the parts where they entered it. The telling took well over an hour, and when it was finished, Cymria simply nodded. “Very well,” she said, rising to leave. “Malchor is away on business at the moment, but I expect him back within the tenday. I will notify you the moment he returns.” Without further comment, she left.</p><p></p><p>“You must excuse her,” Celeste said. “She would lay down her life for Malchor, but diplomacy is not her strong suit. I can assure you that Malchor will be very eager to hear your tale when he returns, but until then, please feel at home here in Longsaddle. All of your expenses have been taken care of.”</p><p></p><p>The group took a while longer to reacquaint themselves with Dagsumn and to hear his tale, then took their leave of their hosts to await the return of Malchor.</p><p></p><p>As the tenday wore on, the group made themselves known about town, learning what they could about the locals and the long history of the Harpells. Giovanni discovered that the town actually had a library of some renown. It was in actuality a temple, dedicated to several neutral-minded deities of knowledge, and it was presided over by a priest named Agath of Thrunch, who had, as it so happened, been the one Malchor had called upon to resurrect Dagsumn. </p><p></p><p>When Giovanni entered the library, he was greeted cordially, but coolly by Agath.</p><p>“How may I be of service?” he asked, the barest hint of derision in his tone.</p><p>“I’m seeking to do some research on a prophecy known as the Age of Worms,” the warlock replied. </p><p>“I see,” Agath said, any hint of a smile fading. “You must understand that this is a scholarly institute. We often have…adventurers…who wish to make use of our resources for all sorts of dramatic endeavors. We tend to charge a hefty fee for such privileges for lay folk. What is it you do again Mister Giovanni was it?”</p><p>“I’m trying to save the world,” Giovanni replied flatly, meeting Agath’s steely blue eyes with his emerald ones.</p><p>“Just so,” the priest said drolly. “Tell me, if you can, what do you know of the Bastion of Broken Souls.”</p><p>“I assume you are speaking of the reputed source of new souls located on the Positive Energy plane,” Giovanni responded immediately. Agath’s eyes went wide. “It only became known as the Bastion of Broken Souls after it was occupied by the demon wyrm Nalavarra. She was slain many years ago by a party of so-called adventurers led by the Tyrite priest Joachim, and the sorceress Entropy. This was of course before Entropy became the corrupted Chosen of the White Banshee, Kiaransalee.” </p><p>“Make yourself at home…no charge,” Agath said.</p><p></p><p>Finally the day came when Cymria came for the members of the League, stating that Malchor had returned. She instructed them to accompany her to the Ivy Manor, leaving weapons and armor behind. An exception was made for Hawk when the civilar refused to be parted from his ancestral blade, agreeing in the end to peace-bond the sword.</p><p></p><p>When they arrived at the base of Harpell Hill, Cymria produced a stone token, bearing the Seal of the Harpells for each of the party members. Bearing the token, they passed easily through the magical wards surrounding the manor grounds. They were greeted by a polite guard at the main entrance, and then escorted to a private study deep within the winding halls. </p><p></p><p>The long, airy chamber had a high ceiling and generous adornments. A deep, blue carpet covered much of the floor. The walls were thoroughly covered by a wide range of paintings, each depicting a different exotic locale or dangerous region. The paintings were rendered with extraordinary skill, and seemed almost like windows looking out on remote locations around the world. Several overstuffed chairs sat throughout the room, and at the far end a massive antique wooden desk loomed, its surface a tangle of scrolls, books, statuettes, stone tablets, quills, vials of ink and an expensive dragonchess set, its pieces arrayed in mid-game. </p><p></p><p>Malchor Harpell stood near the desk, his hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed, not in robes, but in expertly tailored commoner’s clothes. Physically fit and tall, his dark brown hair was worn short and his beard was neatly trimmed close to his face. Agath was seated in one of the chairs nearby. </p><p>“Welcome friends,” the archmage said, gesturing for them to be seated. “Cymria has told me your tale, and Dagsumn has filled in some other details. Still, I would hear from your own mouths what you know, and what it is that you seek from me.”</p><p></p><p>Once again the story was told, with no detail left out. When they finished, Hawk concluded with, “So we have come to you, hoping you can tell us more of Kyuss and the Age of Worms.” </p><p>“The Age of Worms,” Malchor began, “is foretold in a prophecy that speaks of a coming apocalypse, an age of death and writhing doom. Normally such rumors should be dismissed…doomsday prophecies are typically the product of nothing more sinister than madness. This prophecy is different. It can be traced back, through various incarnations in books, tablets, and carvings on walls, for over two thousand years. It does not change in content during this time…it has not evolved through clumsy attempts of fanatics desperate to reword its predictions to support their agendas.”</p><p>“This alone would be enough for it to merit further study. But even more interesting is the fact that in the last few years several of its predictions have actually come true. In one prophecy, it predicts the ‘ruin by fire of a city built in a bowl in the spire’s shadow.’ Just last year, in Turmish, the city of Cauldron, built in the caldera of a dormant volcano, was destroyed by a volcanic eruption. Other prophecies speak of the recrudescence of the worm-eaten dead, the recovery of potent artifacts from ancient tombs, the destructive manifestation of an immense demonic tree in a distant city across the sea, the arrival of a ‘Fane of Scales’ amid a storm of wind and flame, and the awakening of an evil taint from a city besieged in the past by giants.”</p><p>“These events have all come to pass, and quite recently. In fact, there are only two prophecies remaining to be fulfilled. The first of these mentions the reunification of a tripartite spirit…I assume this is a nod to the goals of the Ebon Triad. The second remaining prophecy reads: ‘And on the eve of the Age of Worms, a hero of the pit shall use his fame to gift a city to the dead.’ I believe this last line may have been speaking of Prendergast Brokengulf and his recent attempt to sacrifice thousands at the end of the Champions’ Games. It remains to be seen if your actions actually made a difference here or not, but it would be foolhardy to assume that those who are trying to fulfill the prophecies will abate their efforts.”</p><p>“As for Kyuss, he is an enigma. What we know of him is sparse. We know that he was once a mortal, a powerful priest who ascended to godhood. He ruled a city named Kuluth-Mar, far to the south, and was famed for the creation of undead. A former companion of mine, a wizard named Balakarde, made an extensive study of Kyuss and his ways. You might even say he was obsessed with Kyuss.”</p><p></p><p>At this Hawk interrupted. “You speak of him in the past tense. Where is this wizard now, and what was the nature of his obsession?”</p><p>“When Balakarde learned Kuluth-Mar was the likely location of Kyuss’ divine apotheosis,” Malchor replied, “he could barely restrain himself. I cautioned him against going to investigate the ruins. One does not simply teleport into an unknown region without doing some research. Yet he would not listen. He left immediately, returning two tendays later with a wild look in his eye. He wouldn’t say much of what he’d found there, and before he moved on he asked me to hold on to some of his notes. He promised to return later and tell me more, but that time was short and he had to head east to follow a new lead. He vanished without a trace not long thereafter. I intended to try to track him down, but unfortunately, other events conspired to take my attention away. I suspect he is dead now. Or worse.”</p><p></p><p>A silent moment passed, then Hawk spoke again. “What of the Ebon Triad? As you know, we encountered one of their cells beneath Daggerford. You said one of the prophecies referred to them.”</p><p>Malchor nodded. “They seem to be involved, at least on some level, with most of the events associated with these prophecies. Their involvement merits further investigation, although I believe that they may in fact themselves be little more than agents for a larger power…perhaps Kyuss himself. Certainly, their goal of unifying Bane, Bhaal and Myrkul into one Overgod seems ridiculous, although as far as the Age of Worms prophecies about this tripartite spirit are concerned, it seems that the actual manifestation of an Overgod is not what is being predicted as much as it is predicting the heretical beliefs of the cultists themselves.”</p><p></p><p>“This all seems to leave us with more questions than answers,” Giovanni sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Where do we go from here? It seems that Balakarde may have been on to something, but now he is lost. What about this ruin he found, Kuluth-Mar?”</p><p>“That may indeed be your best starting point,” Malchor agreed. “The notes Balakarde left me are, unfortunately, rather sparse. They confirm that Kuluth-Mar is located in the jungles of Chult, far to the south, and estimate that Kyuss ruled the city more than two thousand years ago from a fortress called the Spire of Long Shadows. Balakarde believed that this spire was the site of Kyuss’ ascension to godhood. Kyuss built a ziggurat to serve as the foundation of the Spire of Long Shadows. Balakarde wrote how the ziggurat was a powerful magical focus for the ritual that propelled him to divinity. Much of Kyuss’ might has since left the city of Kuluth-Mar, but powerful undead servants and lingering touches of Kyuss’ own miasma make the ziggurat a fell and dangerous place. Balakarde visited the ruined city several times, but never penetrated the spire itself. I never found the journal pages that described his earlier visits.”</p><p>“Then how can we find this place?” Giovanni asked.</p><p>At this, Malchor walked to one of the paintings on the wall. It portrayed a giant ring of black rocks encircling an ancient stone ziggurat. Atop the ziggurat rose a towering spire of stone shaped almost like a stylized tree or cactus. Arms projected from the sides of the stone spire in mocking defiance of gravity. The apex of the spire was missing. </p><p>“This is an exact representation,” Malchor said. “By memorizing its details and concentrating upon it, a mage might Teleport to its precise location.”</p><p></p><p>“It seems our choice is made for us then,” Hawk said. “We thank you for your valuable assistance, my lord mage. We will prepare to take our leave in the morning.”</p><p>“Just one more thing,” Malchor said, holding up his hand. If you recall, I mentioned that the Age of Worms prophecy also predicted that several major artifacts would surface in the months before the end. It does not indicate that these artifacts have a role to play in the realization of the Age of Worms itself, only that their appearance marks that the time is near. I know of several that have surfaced of late; the Black Blade of Aknar Ratalla, the Tome of the Black Heart, the Obsidian Eye, the Dread Forge, the Bindings of Erivatius, and now a fragment of the Shattered Scepter of Calim. The recovery of this last artifact has likely placed you in even more danger than before, as your encounter of the road here can attest to. Worse, if the fragment falls into the wrong hands at this critical juncture, the results could be disastrous. Therefore, I make you an offer. Give me the fragment, and I shall store it safely in my vault. In exchange, I offer you…this…”</p><p>He removed a certain book from one of the shelves, and the entire book case swung open, revealing a metal and stone chamber beyond. The walls of this small room were festooned with several incredible wondrous items, from gleaming suits of armor and shining swords, to rune-carved wrings and silken cloaks.</p><p>“Choose,” Malchor said simply.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="gfunk, post: 2813688, member: 1813"] THE ROAD TO LONGSADDLE After a much deserved respite in Waterdeep, during which old acquaintances were renewed, wounds were healed, and gold spent, the League set out upon the Long Road for the more than two week journey to Longsaddle, legendary home of the Harpells. Days were spent in monotonous travel, with Hawk and Giovanni astride Big Alice, and Drasek mounted upon Beaucephalus, his own steed, while the others plodded alongside on foot. Night’s were spent in relative comfort, inside a Celestial Fortress conjured by Grubber each evening. Grumbar’s ‘fortress,’ however, since it was designed to mirror the tastes of its deity, was little more than a large, stone block. What it lacked in aesthetics, it made up for in security, having one door, no windows, and a trapdoor on the roof. Both portals were locked by arcane magic which only Grubber could pass. Each night, the priest would light a Celestial beacon on the rooftop, standing watch all through the dark hours, joined in rotation by Grim, Hawk, and Drasek. The following morning, Grubber would pray for a simple spell to remove his fatigue due to lack of sleep. So it went for the better part of a week, until one afternoon the group ran afoul of a hunting frost giant mounted on a grizzly mastodon. The fellow seemed disinclined to parley, and so the League was forced to resort to other forms of diplomacy. When the battle was ended, the party decided to make their camp a bit earlier than usual… Magnus watched through his crystal ball, just as he’d watched for the past several weeks. Visciannix, his employer, had told him where and how to find the adventurers. It had just been a matter of waiting until the right opportunity presented itself for his own team to strike. It would have been far too risky while the group was in Waterdeep. Once they had set out upon the open road, however, Magnus wanted to establish their habits and patterns. He felt he knew them intimately by now. In truth, the archmage had no personal vendetta against the League. They just happened to be standing between him and a very substantial sum of money. It was strictly business, but it would be no less lethal for that. As he watched the priest light his beacon, he finally turned to his strike force. “Blob, you will go first.” The huge elemental simply grunted, and moved towards the gleaming circle inscribed upon the floor of the chamber. “Destiny, you and Avalanche will follow,” Magnus continued, “leaving Sabertooth to bring up the rear.” The Harpy nodded, then turned towards her other two companions. The one called Avalanche appeared human enough, but his golden eyes betrayed his other-worldly heritage. Sabertooth, however, looked anything but. At first glance, he seemed to be a bipedal tiger, but his overlong arms, which dragged the ground, long snout of a nose, and horrid stench gave away his true ancestry. It was true, she thought with disgust, trolls really would mate with anything. Grubber stood peering out into the night, brightly illuminated by his beacon. He knew that the others though it risky to advertise their presence so boldly, but he thought just the opposite. Any predator in the dark would think twice before attacking any group so confident as to light up the night like a spring dawn. Behind him, Grim paced in silence, making perhaps his fiftieth circuit of the twenty-by-twenty rooftop. The goliath stretched and yawned as boredom set in. While it was true that Grumbar espoused constancy without change, these nightly vigils were testing even His most faithful’s patience. In an instant, everything changed. From literally out of thin air appeared a huge creature, easily fifteen-feet tall, that, though roughly humanoid in shape, appeared to be made completely out of earth and stone. Shaking the ground as it came, it moved with surprising speed towards the fortress, and with one, tree-trunk sized arm, swatted Grubber from the roof like a gnat. The goliath tumbled to the ground like a child’s toy. Grim turned, stunned by what he was seeing. What in the name of Hela Brightaxe was an earth elemental doing here? As he pondered THAT question, two more creatures suddenly popped into existence behind the elemental. The first was a harpy. He recognized her breed from the covey his team had encountered in the lair of the Redeye tribe. The second was a man dressed in a chain shirt and carrying a large, steel shield emblazoned with an oddly stylized helmet in its center. A heavy mace hung from his belt, and a leather headband held back his long, black hair. All of this, Grim took in quickly. Acting purely on reflex, he moved to the back side of the roof, and promptly leaped to the ground below, barely taking note of the impact from the twenty-foot drop. Scrambling to his feet, he began fishing in his belt pouches for his defensive draughts. Grubber still lay on his back, staring up at the behemoth towering over him. He too saw the arrival of the newcomers, and knew this was no random encounter. An ambush was being sprung. With a word to Grumbar, the goliath priest hurled a Storm of holy Shards from his outstretched hand towards the invaders. The human and the elemental ignored the blast completely. Not evil then, Grubber noted with frustration. The harpy, however, was another matter. Destiny screamed as the knife-like shards ripped at her wings and skin. They burned, but with cold instead of fire. Worse, as they struck her, they flared with piercing light, and as it faded, she saw only darkness. She was blind! Grubber struggled to his feet, trying to back around the corner of the fortress and out of the elemental’s sight. He was not fast enough. Another hammering blow sent him reeling. He managed to keep his feet, but only just, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer going toe-to-toe with the brute. Inside the stone fortress, Faust snapped fully alert from his reverie at the sounds of battle just outside the door. Around him, Hawk, Storm, Shay, and Giovanni all sat bolt upright, jolted from sleep. Astonishingly, Drasek slept on, his rumbling snores uninterrupted. As Grubber struggled to shake the stars from before his eyes, he saw a fourth creature appear on the scene. For all the world, it appeared to be a tiger walking on two legs, but there was something misshapen about it…grotesque. Yet, when it moved, it was like watching an arrow in flight. In two strides, it reached the door to the fortress, pulling at the handle, then growling in anger when the magically sealed portal refused to open. In the air above, the harpy seemed to have regained her composure, though from the jerky movements of her head from side to side, Grubber knew his spell had the desired effect. Suddenly, she called out in a beautiful voice that belied her hideous appearance. “The Scepter,” Destiny trilled, “It is all we want. Give it to us and your lives will be spared.” Then, incredibly, she began to sing. Her voice was hypnotic in its haunting loveliness, and for a moment, Grubber wanted nothing more than to stand and listen to it. Then, he shook his head violently to clear it, knowing the glamour for what it was. Avalanche saw that Destiny’s music wasn’t going to snare the goliath. Time then for him to act. Slapping his hands together, the aasimar sent a wave of sonic force at the priest, but the goliath ducked behind the building’s corner at the last second, and the blast only succeeded in chipping off a few stones. “Not so fast, little fella,” Blob rumbled as Grubber struggled to put some distance between himself and the elemental. He swung his massive fist again, and the goliath raised his shield, bracing for the impact. As it was, the blow put a sizeable dent in the priest’s magically hardened shield, and he knew instinctively that one more like that would sunder it completely. Grubber had to buy some time. Then, an idea hit him. Thinking back to the wall of water that threatened to drown him and his companions back in Icosiol’s tomb, the goliath quickly uttered the prayer that would bring into being a Wall of Iron. The barrier appeared instantly between him and the elemental, fusing itself into the side of the fortress. Safely out of the brute’s reach, Grubber darted around the back of the shelter, coming face-to-face with Grim. “Get up!” Shay shouted, as he kicked Drasek between the slats. “Wha…huh?” the inquisitor mumbled groggily. “For the love of Oghma,” Havok cursed, reaching down to grab Drasek by his tunic. “Hang on!” In a flash, the warlock and the paladin vanished, reappearing some forty-feet behind the fortress. “Oh…my…” Drasek whispered. “I’m not sure what’s happening out there,” Faust said to the others, “but the first one of you who opens that door before I’m ready is going to get Ego Whipped into butter!” With that the psion morphed his form into that of a grey render. He was none-to-soon in doing so, as at that precise moment, something literally flowed through the front, stone wall of the fortress as if it didn’t even exist. The huge elemental stood staring down at the slack-jawed quartet gazing dumb-founded at him. “Nothing beats the blob!” he roared, as Hawk, snapping into action, drove his sword hilt-deep into the earthy mass, then struggled to free it, as if it were stuck in quick-sand. No trace of a wound showed in the creature’s stony hide. Reaching over him, Blob slammed his fist into the face Faust. The grey render/psion was hurled back into the wall. He absolutely despised hand-to-hand combat! Sabertooth was tired of waiting for the mice to come out of their hole, and he wasn’t about to let Blob have all the fun. Darting around the side of the building, he rounded the back corner to find two of his prey conveniently waiting for him. “It’d be a shame to bust up that pretty mug of yours,” he growled with a toothy smile at Grim. “Why don’t’cha be a good little fella and just hand over the Scepter?” “The only rod I got is attached to this blade!” Grim snarled, and then swung with a two-handed blow at the wreaking half-breed. His axe bit deep into Sabertooth’s hide, as it did, Grim unleashed the magic of the blade in the form of a surge of acid. Sabertooth yowled, knowing that his father’s blood would allow him to quickly heal most wounds, save those from burns…such as acid! Havok and Drasek were still on their backs as they reappeared outside the fortress. Havok could hear the piercing notes of the harpy’s song, and instinctively he knew that if he stepped outside of the inquisitor’s protective aura, he would be overwhelmed by her words and helpless. He had to bring her down first. Taking careful aim, he unleashed an emerald spear of eldritch power, which struck Destiny unerringly. Destiny felt her voice crack, as her skin blackened and burned. Her wings began to falter, and she began to fall… Magnus cursed as he watched the battle unfold within his crystal ball. He could not afford to lose Destiny. Quickly, he snatched one of the charms from the bracelet on his left wrist. When Destiny hit the ground, it was on the floor behind him. “Spiral, tend her wounds,” the archmage said absently as he turned his attention back to the matter-at-hand. Shay dove quickly for his bow, and was rewarded with a back-handed smash by the Blob. The rogue careened off the fireplace, and lay momentarily dazed. No good, he thought to himself. This was not his forte. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to the roof of the fortress, where he took a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings. Hawk struck at the elemental again and again, each attack as ineffective as the first. “Time to go!” Faust shouted, and before Hawk could protest, the psion snatched him with one large claw, and the pair Dimension Doored out of the fortress too, reappearing not far from Havok and Drasek. Sabertooth watched Destiny vanish and knew that Magnus had retrieved her. He glared in the direction of the warlock who had felled her and realized that the bigger threat lay there, not with the two oafs before him. Turning on his heel, he prepared to sprint towards Havok, but he had not gone two steps when Grim’s axe tangled between his feet, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt. Avalanche saw the wily rogue appear on the rooftop and draw a bead on the prone form of Sabertooth. Quickly, the wilder slammed his hands together again, sending another sonic blast in that direction. He smiled as the rogue reeled from the blow, but his smile faded an instant later as an emerald lance of energy tore a hole through his chest. “Unfortunately, we left my weapons and armor back in the shelter,” Drasek said to Havok as the warlock felled another of their foes. “You seem to be handling yourself pretty well. I’m going to gain some altitude, where I can work without either of those wrecking machines down there bearing down on me.” The inquisitor quickly cast a Fly spell upon himself and took to the air. Grubber was glad for the brief respite. He called upon his most potent spell of Healing to mend his shattered ribs and contusions, and was preparing to join Grim in finishing off the tiger-creature, when the wall of the fortress suddenly rippled as Blob stepped through. “Now yer gonna get it!” Sabertooth smiled up at Grim, but then he yelped as a black-fletched arrow, courtesy of Shay, sprouted out of his backside. “I don’t think so, bub,” Grim whispered, then slashed furiously at the prone half-breed, loosing a second gout of acid. Though in agony, a blind rage fell over Sabertooth, and he heaved himself to his feet, suffering another blow from the dwarf’s axe as he stood. Despite his almost overwhelming desire to rip the little man’s throat out, he knew the warlock was still the main threat, and now that one was all alone. Again, the half-troll started in Havok’s direction, and again Grim tried to trip him up, but this time Sabertooth was ready. As the dwarf lowered his axe, he seized he haft, wrenching it up and over, while simultaneously sweeping one foot behind Grim’s knees. The dwarf buckled, tumbling to the ground, and then Sabertooth was clear, running in a full sprint towards Havok. As Faust saw the elemental emerge from the fortress, he did exactly the opposite of what every fiber of his being told him not to do. He closed in. He had to get close enough to release a cone of pure mental fire, and do so without catching Grim or Grubber in the backlash. The blast washed over Blob, but the elemental didn’t even slow. Ignoring Grubber, he took two giant steps towards Faust, and then drove two devastating punches into the render’s midsection. From twenty-feet away Grubber heard bones snap, and saw blood gush from the psion’s mouth. Drasek watched as the half-troll closed on Havok. Calling upon the Deific Vengeance of Kelemvor, the inquisitor began reciting a litany of the creature’s past crimes, and there were many. Sabertooth stumbled in his charge for only a moment, but it was enough. Havok summoned his most potent blast, and loosed it completely into the half-troll, literally tearing him in half. “Hey ugly!” Grim shouted, struggling to his feet, and facing the giant elemental. “Over here!” As the Blob turned towards him, swinging his arm in a whistling arc that made even the stout mineral warrior stagger, Grubber darted behind him to Faust’s side. As the psion wheezed and coughed up more blood, the goliath quickly wove a potent curative spell over him, halting his internal bleeding, and mending his punctured lung. Hawk rushed past Grubber and Faust, hoping to draw the elemental’s attention from completely focusing on Grim. The civilar stabbed and slashed at the brute, knowing his blows would be largely a nuisance, but hoping to buy a little more time for Faust. It was a false hope. As Faust tried to back away, Blob struck at him again, aggravating the injuries Grubber had only just healed. Desperately, the psion hurled a ball of psychic energy towards the elemental, but incredibly, the huge, ungainly-looking behemoth leaped into the air, somersaulting completely over the energy ball, which crashed harmlessly into the side of the fortress. As Blob landed, he spun deftly and seized Grim in one crushing fist. The dwarf groaned in agony as the air was squeezed out of him. Holding him dangling in the air, the Blob then proceeded to smash the dwarf again and again with his other fist, sending blood and teeth flying with each blow. In unison, Hawk, Faust, Drasek and Havok struck, sending electrical surges, Hammers of Righteous energy, eldritch blasts and spheres of numbing cold at the elemental. Blob felt himself weakening, but he would have the last word. “Nothing…beats…the…Blob!” he shouted, smashing Grim one final time before sinking into the ground and out of sight, leaving the dwarf a broken, bleeding heap. None of the Leagues’ injuries proved fatal, though Grubber’s healing powers were sorely taxed to prevent that. The team continued on their trek the next day, but paranoia set in immediately. Every strange sound or fellow traveler on the road was a potential threat. No one could be trusted. What Ondabar had told them was true: rarely did a piece of the Shattered Scepter reappear in the world without purpose, and when a piece was found, the forces of Chaos were always seeking to claim it. Nine more days on the road passed without further incident. Finally, sixteen days out of Waterdeep, the party crested a hill and gazed down upon Longsaddle. They had passed increasingly frequent numbers of ranches over the past several miles of the journey, outlying settlements of the town itself. The village, however, was small, with scarcely over one-hundred inhabitants. The Long Road was the only street, and the town’s buildings lined both sides of it. The Road led straight to a hill in the center of town, atop which was perched a many-spired, chaotically arranged, and ivy-covered manor house: the Ivy Mansion, ancestral home of the Harpells. The group continued straight through town, their heavy armament and odd mounts drawing many stares, but also smiles and good-natured waves. The plan was to go directly to the manor house and request and audience with Malchor, however as the road reached the base of the hill, Alice came to an abrupt stop. When Hawk urged her forward, she shook her massive head and stared passively at him. Cursing, the civilar dropped from her back and began walking in front of her, but he was suddenly brought up short by an invisible barrier of some sort. “Well, it is the home of a wizarding family,” Giovanni shrugged. “We should have expected as much.” “What now then?” Grim asked testily. “We go back to the village,” Hawk said, climbing up Alice’s flank. “Maybe someone there can tell us the proper protocol for meeting these wizards.” Shay decided to start at the Leaping Hooves, the local stable, while the rest of the group made their way to the Horn and Hoof, the tavern. When Shay entered the stable office, he was met by a heavy-set man with ruddy cheeks and a thick, black beard. “Saw you come into town,” the man said. “Name’s Urvon, what can I do for you? Before you ask, though, I’m afraid I don’t have enough space for the elephant.” “I’m actually interested in seeing some of your horse-flesh,” Shay replied evenly. “Don’t have a mount of my own, and I’ve been riding shank’s mare for the past two tendays.” Urvon nodded, and led the rogue into the stable yard. Several fine looking horses were on display there, but what caught Shay’s eye were the half-dozen or so creatures that stood inside a scale-model corral. They appeared to be horses, but they were no more than six inches in height! “What in the world…?” Shay goggled. “Ah,” Urvon smiled. “Those are mini-horses.” “Mini-horses?” Shay asked. “What do you use them for? Where do they come from?” “Well, they’re mostly bred as house-pets,” Urvon said. “You know, just like some dogs are working animals, herders and the like, some are also lap-pets. Ladies love’em. Same goes for the mini-horses. Kid’s adore’em! As for where they come from, well old Malchor Harpell himself breeds’em. Kind of a hobby of his.” “Malchor Harpell, you say?” Shay replied. “Funny you should mention him. You see, my friends and I were kind of hoping we might see him while we were in town. We have a business matter to discuss with him.” Urvon nodded. “Yeah, I know. Whole town knows. We’ve been expecting you. Malchor left word that your to go to the Gilded Horseshoe, the inn.” Shay looked taken aback at this unexpected announcement, but he simply nodded and thanked the stable master, and then set off for the inn. When he reached the Gilded Horseshoe, he found his companions waiting. They had been given the same information as he. The innkeeper was a fat, balding man named Trappy Snulgers. He jovially informed the group that their rooms had already been reserved and paid for. He had their gear taken upstairs, but directed the party members to a private room behind the bar. “The Lady is waiting for you,” he said, winking. When they entered the room, they actually found three people waiting, two of whom most of them recognized immediately. The first was Celeste, the woman who had introduced the team to Urtos in Waterdeep, the young lord who had sponsored them in the Champions’ Games. Celeste looked nothing like she appeared in Waterdeep. There, she had seemed a common street rogue, but now she was positively radiant, and it was immediately apparent to Giovanni that she was not remotely human. She was, in fact, a ghaele eladrin…a celestial! Even more shocking was the man seated at the table beside her. It was none other than Dagsumn, Ondabar’s sage friend who they had last seen as a headless corpse at his manor house in Waterdeep. He appeared hale and whole now. The last person in the room was a stranger, a tall, thin elf woman with a lean, almost wolfish look. “My friends,” Celeste said rising to greet them. “It is so good to see you again, though I’m sorry to see some of those I knew in Waterdeep not among you now. I must first beg your forgiveness for my absence during the aftermath of the Champions’ Games. Malchor had urgent need of me, and I was forced to depart earlier than I had planned. I learned of Dagsumn’s fate too late, but Malchor arranged to have our old friend returned to us, as you can see.” Dagsumn smiled quietly and nodded. “Allow me to introduce Cymria,” Celeste continued. “She is Malchor’s personal assistant and go-between.” The elf woman stood without further preamble and approached the group. “Celeste and Dagsumn have told me much about you and your quest,” she said tersely, “but if I am to recommend an audience for you to Malchor, I must know everything. So, tell me exactly why you have come, and what it is you seek from my master. Leave nothing out.” Grim, Grubber and Shay began the tale, with the others taking up at the parts where they entered it. The telling took well over an hour, and when it was finished, Cymria simply nodded. “Very well,” she said, rising to leave. “Malchor is away on business at the moment, but I expect him back within the tenday. I will notify you the moment he returns.” Without further comment, she left. “You must excuse her,” Celeste said. “She would lay down her life for Malchor, but diplomacy is not her strong suit. I can assure you that Malchor will be very eager to hear your tale when he returns, but until then, please feel at home here in Longsaddle. All of your expenses have been taken care of.” The group took a while longer to reacquaint themselves with Dagsumn and to hear his tale, then took their leave of their hosts to await the return of Malchor. As the tenday wore on, the group made themselves known about town, learning what they could about the locals and the long history of the Harpells. Giovanni discovered that the town actually had a library of some renown. It was in actuality a temple, dedicated to several neutral-minded deities of knowledge, and it was presided over by a priest named Agath of Thrunch, who had, as it so happened, been the one Malchor had called upon to resurrect Dagsumn. When Giovanni entered the library, he was greeted cordially, but coolly by Agath. “How may I be of service?” he asked, the barest hint of derision in his tone. “I’m seeking to do some research on a prophecy known as the Age of Worms,” the warlock replied. “I see,” Agath said, any hint of a smile fading. “You must understand that this is a scholarly institute. We often have…adventurers…who wish to make use of our resources for all sorts of dramatic endeavors. We tend to charge a hefty fee for such privileges for lay folk. What is it you do again Mister Giovanni was it?” “I’m trying to save the world,” Giovanni replied flatly, meeting Agath’s steely blue eyes with his emerald ones. “Just so,” the priest said drolly. “Tell me, if you can, what do you know of the Bastion of Broken Souls.” “I assume you are speaking of the reputed source of new souls located on the Positive Energy plane,” Giovanni responded immediately. Agath’s eyes went wide. “It only became known as the Bastion of Broken Souls after it was occupied by the demon wyrm Nalavarra. She was slain many years ago by a party of so-called adventurers led by the Tyrite priest Joachim, and the sorceress Entropy. This was of course before Entropy became the corrupted Chosen of the White Banshee, Kiaransalee.” “Make yourself at home…no charge,” Agath said. Finally the day came when Cymria came for the members of the League, stating that Malchor had returned. She instructed them to accompany her to the Ivy Manor, leaving weapons and armor behind. An exception was made for Hawk when the civilar refused to be parted from his ancestral blade, agreeing in the end to peace-bond the sword. When they arrived at the base of Harpell Hill, Cymria produced a stone token, bearing the Seal of the Harpells for each of the party members. Bearing the token, they passed easily through the magical wards surrounding the manor grounds. They were greeted by a polite guard at the main entrance, and then escorted to a private study deep within the winding halls. The long, airy chamber had a high ceiling and generous adornments. A deep, blue carpet covered much of the floor. The walls were thoroughly covered by a wide range of paintings, each depicting a different exotic locale or dangerous region. The paintings were rendered with extraordinary skill, and seemed almost like windows looking out on remote locations around the world. Several overstuffed chairs sat throughout the room, and at the far end a massive antique wooden desk loomed, its surface a tangle of scrolls, books, statuettes, stone tablets, quills, vials of ink and an expensive dragonchess set, its pieces arrayed in mid-game. Malchor Harpell stood near the desk, his hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed, not in robes, but in expertly tailored commoner’s clothes. Physically fit and tall, his dark brown hair was worn short and his beard was neatly trimmed close to his face. Agath was seated in one of the chairs nearby. “Welcome friends,” the archmage said, gesturing for them to be seated. “Cymria has told me your tale, and Dagsumn has filled in some other details. Still, I would hear from your own mouths what you know, and what it is that you seek from me.” Once again the story was told, with no detail left out. When they finished, Hawk concluded with, “So we have come to you, hoping you can tell us more of Kyuss and the Age of Worms.” “The Age of Worms,” Malchor began, “is foretold in a prophecy that speaks of a coming apocalypse, an age of death and writhing doom. Normally such rumors should be dismissed…doomsday prophecies are typically the product of nothing more sinister than madness. This prophecy is different. It can be traced back, through various incarnations in books, tablets, and carvings on walls, for over two thousand years. It does not change in content during this time…it has not evolved through clumsy attempts of fanatics desperate to reword its predictions to support their agendas.” “This alone would be enough for it to merit further study. But even more interesting is the fact that in the last few years several of its predictions have actually come true. In one prophecy, it predicts the ‘ruin by fire of a city built in a bowl in the spire’s shadow.’ Just last year, in Turmish, the city of Cauldron, built in the caldera of a dormant volcano, was destroyed by a volcanic eruption. Other prophecies speak of the recrudescence of the worm-eaten dead, the recovery of potent artifacts from ancient tombs, the destructive manifestation of an immense demonic tree in a distant city across the sea, the arrival of a ‘Fane of Scales’ amid a storm of wind and flame, and the awakening of an evil taint from a city besieged in the past by giants.” “These events have all come to pass, and quite recently. In fact, there are only two prophecies remaining to be fulfilled. The first of these mentions the reunification of a tripartite spirit…I assume this is a nod to the goals of the Ebon Triad. The second remaining prophecy reads: ‘And on the eve of the Age of Worms, a hero of the pit shall use his fame to gift a city to the dead.’ I believe this last line may have been speaking of Prendergast Brokengulf and his recent attempt to sacrifice thousands at the end of the Champions’ Games. It remains to be seen if your actions actually made a difference here or not, but it would be foolhardy to assume that those who are trying to fulfill the prophecies will abate their efforts.” “As for Kyuss, he is an enigma. What we know of him is sparse. We know that he was once a mortal, a powerful priest who ascended to godhood. He ruled a city named Kuluth-Mar, far to the south, and was famed for the creation of undead. A former companion of mine, a wizard named Balakarde, made an extensive study of Kyuss and his ways. You might even say he was obsessed with Kyuss.” At this Hawk interrupted. “You speak of him in the past tense. Where is this wizard now, and what was the nature of his obsession?” “When Balakarde learned Kuluth-Mar was the likely location of Kyuss’ divine apotheosis,” Malchor replied, “he could barely restrain himself. I cautioned him against going to investigate the ruins. One does not simply teleport into an unknown region without doing some research. Yet he would not listen. He left immediately, returning two tendays later with a wild look in his eye. He wouldn’t say much of what he’d found there, and before he moved on he asked me to hold on to some of his notes. He promised to return later and tell me more, but that time was short and he had to head east to follow a new lead. He vanished without a trace not long thereafter. I intended to try to track him down, but unfortunately, other events conspired to take my attention away. I suspect he is dead now. Or worse.” A silent moment passed, then Hawk spoke again. “What of the Ebon Triad? As you know, we encountered one of their cells beneath Daggerford. You said one of the prophecies referred to them.” Malchor nodded. “They seem to be involved, at least on some level, with most of the events associated with these prophecies. Their involvement merits further investigation, although I believe that they may in fact themselves be little more than agents for a larger power…perhaps Kyuss himself. Certainly, their goal of unifying Bane, Bhaal and Myrkul into one Overgod seems ridiculous, although as far as the Age of Worms prophecies about this tripartite spirit are concerned, it seems that the actual manifestation of an Overgod is not what is being predicted as much as it is predicting the heretical beliefs of the cultists themselves.” “This all seems to leave us with more questions than answers,” Giovanni sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Where do we go from here? It seems that Balakarde may have been on to something, but now he is lost. What about this ruin he found, Kuluth-Mar?” “That may indeed be your best starting point,” Malchor agreed. “The notes Balakarde left me are, unfortunately, rather sparse. They confirm that Kuluth-Mar is located in the jungles of Chult, far to the south, and estimate that Kyuss ruled the city more than two thousand years ago from a fortress called the Spire of Long Shadows. Balakarde believed that this spire was the site of Kyuss’ ascension to godhood. Kyuss built a ziggurat to serve as the foundation of the Spire of Long Shadows. Balakarde wrote how the ziggurat was a powerful magical focus for the ritual that propelled him to divinity. Much of Kyuss’ might has since left the city of Kuluth-Mar, but powerful undead servants and lingering touches of Kyuss’ own miasma make the ziggurat a fell and dangerous place. Balakarde visited the ruined city several times, but never penetrated the spire itself. I never found the journal pages that described his earlier visits.” “Then how can we find this place?” Giovanni asked. At this, Malchor walked to one of the paintings on the wall. It portrayed a giant ring of black rocks encircling an ancient stone ziggurat. Atop the ziggurat rose a towering spire of stone shaped almost like a stylized tree or cactus. Arms projected from the sides of the stone spire in mocking defiance of gravity. The apex of the spire was missing. “This is an exact representation,” Malchor said. “By memorizing its details and concentrating upon it, a mage might Teleport to its precise location.” “It seems our choice is made for us then,” Hawk said. “We thank you for your valuable assistance, my lord mage. We will prepare to take our leave in the morning.” “Just one more thing,” Malchor said, holding up his hand. If you recall, I mentioned that the Age of Worms prophecy also predicted that several major artifacts would surface in the months before the end. It does not indicate that these artifacts have a role to play in the realization of the Age of Worms itself, only that their appearance marks that the time is near. I know of several that have surfaced of late; the Black Blade of Aknar Ratalla, the Tome of the Black Heart, the Obsidian Eye, the Dread Forge, the Bindings of Erivatius, and now a fragment of the Shattered Scepter of Calim. The recovery of this last artifact has likely placed you in even more danger than before, as your encounter of the road here can attest to. Worse, if the fragment falls into the wrong hands at this critical juncture, the results could be disastrous. Therefore, I make you an offer. Give me the fragment, and I shall store it safely in my vault. In exchange, I offer you…this…” He removed a certain book from one of the shelves, and the entire book case swung open, revealing a metal and stone chamber beyond. The walls of this small room were festooned with several incredible wondrous items, from gleaming suits of armor and shining swords, to rune-carved wrings and silken cloaks. “Choose,” Malchor said simply. [/QUOTE]
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JollyDoc's Age of Worms (Updated 11/30, Epilogue!)
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