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<blockquote data-quote="Nebulous" data-source="post: 4673951" data-attributes="member: 31465"><p><span style="font-size: 15px">Side Trek (III): The Fate of Blacksoul</span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><span style="font-size: 15px">Side Trek (III): The Fate of Blacksoul</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><span style="color: red">[GM Note: This final Side Trek developed slowly alongside the main plotline. The other players (save Douvan’s player) don’t know much about the mirror other than what they have read in the recaps].</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><span style="color: red"></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">After his last unpleasant encounter with Balthazar of the Potion Emporium, Douvan Stahl is not particularly keen about meeting more wizards. Alas, it is necessary if he wishes to retrieve the Mirror of Scarvoss that Grax Steelfeather confiscated the day before, and Douvan doesn’t know if Merple the Moneylender can help Douvan pawn the item off because Merple is currently a large bespectacled, useless green toad. Maybe it’s just temporary.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/merptoad.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The ranger and his halfing companion Merric Littlefoot have stayed at the Green Dragon Inn, a comfortable abode that they frequent when in town. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/silverdawn.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Douvan has told Merric all about the incident—the toad curse and the pseudo-dragon, the sewers and the wererats, etc. But Merric is distracted with his own problems. Apparently, his aunt cannot find her son Shuck Hairfoot, who is a Merric’s cousin, and she wants Merric to look for him. Merric doesn’t particularly like Shuck. He’s a fat, conniving halfling with a bad temper, but Merric has agreed to help his aunt anyway out of respect for her. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Shuck Hairfoot was last seen heading south in the company of a blond female minstrel…</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/shuck.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/minstrel.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">[GM Note: There was actually another Side Trek never played out; Merric and Douvan were supposed to meet Shuck at Salvana Wrafton’s Inn and get into a fistfight, foreshadowing Shuck’s alliance with Kalarel. This session would have involved more interaction with Valthrun the Prescient, which I just summarized instead later on. The only clue that the players have concerning Shuck is a signed note to Kalarel, but I doubt they remembered].</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Finishing breakfast, Douvan bids Merric good luck and goodbye, and heads toward the Rookery, which is practically next door to the College of Thaumaturgy across the River Rauvin. The morning air is split by shrill cries from griffons perched on the parapets.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/rookery2.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Douvan is asked about his business at the front gate, and he responds that he is here to meet Grax Steelfeather of the Griffon Guard. Before long the purple-plumed warrior appears, sans his mount, and greets Douvan with a curt nod. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“Excellent. You remembered to come. Unfortunately I don’t have an answer for you yet. Our diviner Valsuvius the Blind has only given your mirror a cursory glance…but he DID want to know who brought it here. He would like to speak with you personally.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“Great.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Douvan doesn’t know what more he can tell this wizard. Valthrun of Winterhaven didn’t tell Douvan much besides that the mirror was a great threat to the town and had something to do with an evil realm called the Shadowfell. Still, he agrees to help. They step inside the vaulted corridors of the Rookery, which Grax explains is the main training and housing quarters for the Griffon Guard of Silverymoon (including the occasional owl, pegasus and hippogriff). </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The lowers levels are still reserved for a few magical endeavors instead of being solely focused in the College of Thaumaturgy. They descend multiple flights of stairs, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the structure, passing numerous glow globes that shed eternal light of varying colors. Eventually they reach some large double doors and Grax knocks.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">A moment later they swing open, revealing an older, blind Eladrin mage bearing a staff.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/valsuvius2.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“Ah...” he says, “you must be Douvan Stahl, bringer of our mysterious mirror. I cannot see with my eyes, true, but there are ways to see beyond that, young man. Come, walk with me.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius takes Douvan’s arm, tapping with his staff while Grax follows. Valsuvius talks along the way.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“I was able to cast a few simple enchantments upon the mirror, but it is highly resistant to any sort of divination. Almost as if the mirror actively resists anyone learning its past. If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about where you found it, and the circumstances.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Sighing, and thinking that this is a waste of time, Douvan recounts the story again, including the kobold clan and the bugbear attack, and Valthrun’s ominous warning that the mirror must be removed as far from Winterhaven as possible. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate1.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Nodding, the old diviner doesn’t say much while they walk, other than asking for the occasional clarification. They soon reach a set of iron doors that are guarded by two soldiers. They stand aside as Valsuvius, Douvan and Grax enter a room that doesn’t exactly fill Douvan with confidence. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate3.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">It is a wizard’s chamber, designed from top to bottom with magical rituals in mind. Bizarre statues line the back wall, and the center of room is dominated by a dais and altar. Fumes rise from two burning braziers and the acrid smoke burns Douvan’s nostrils. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">And the Mirror of Scarvoss is waiting here too. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/scarvoss.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate5.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius genially taps the mirror with his staff. “What exactly are you, my friend? Will you tell me your secrets now? Eh? I think we should try a new approach.” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius asks Grax and Douvan to stand with him on the dais. Douvan can’t imagine why. The old diviner sprinkles silver dust into the air while holding a hefty tome in his hand. Valsuvius begins chanting in a strange tongue, reciting undecipherable words that he must have memorized. The braziers sparkle and burn brighter, filling the room with haze. Douvan begins to feel lightheaded and woozy…</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">…and then Valsuvius stops speaking. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">His blind eyes are squeezed shut. The three of them stand in utter silence and stillness, colored smoke wafting around them in slow, eddying currents. In fact, the mage is SO still and quiet for so long that Douvan thinks he has fallen asleep. But then--</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“I see…” Valsuvius says in his cracked, leathery voice, “…a time from long ago. A place shrouded by darkness. Below ground. There are…people here. Many people. Warriors and priests. Wizards and disciples. I see…banners…and emblems…regalia of Bahamut, Meilikki, Kelemvor, Chauntea and more. They are gathered in defense. They are frightened. Frightened of…the shadows.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The old seer shifts his weight, eyes still closed, as if trying to peel back the veil of years. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“I see a mirror near a large altar. A…cracked mirror. Yes. A…damaged mirror. There are chains on the altar, bands of silvery adamantium. A…a man in robes is approaching the altar. His name…his name…his name…is SCARVOSS. Yes. He is a great mage. Powerful. He has a plan to defeat the shadows. These wizards and priests and holy warriors are all gathered here to help him, on the threshold of the gate, for he needs time…time to complete a dire ritual.” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius sways, clearly in an altered state of mind, and Douvan supports the old man’s weight. Grax Steelfeather is looking extremely upset that he was asked to attend this little séance. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“This…wizard…Scarvoss…knows that a rift is open. It is a gateway to a dark realm of undeath and pain, and it has flooded the countryside with unspeakable horrors. They have come here to close the gate through sheer faith and force…but they need…a sacrifice.” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The diviner stumbles, as if what he sees is troublesome. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“They have brought a beast through the rift. A dragon. A black dragon. No! A…shadow dragon. The creature is subdued. It is chained to the altar. Scarvoss must complete this working, but it will take time, and the Rift will not wait! Agh!”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/blacksoul.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius falls to his knees, the book clattering to the floor. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“The Rift,” whispers the diviner. “The Rift is open, disgorging foulness into the world. The dead are restless. Furious. They attack all they can see! A horde of undeath is pouring from the Shadowfell Rift!” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/druid.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius sees a wave of ghosts, ghouls and worse storm the room, clashing with the priests and holy warriors who are defending Scarvoss. The valiant men and women that die are animated as horrible zombies and ghouls, attacking their former friends and comrades. The ritual is a lengthy one, and it culminates with Scarvoss PLUNGING a sacrificial dagger into the dragon’s bosom and cutting its heart out. The creature’s heart and soul is ripped forth and thrust into the waiting receptacle of the mirror, which magically mends itself. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The undead abominations scream as their link to the Shadowfell is disrupted. The shadowy portal wobbles and then closes, and cheers erupt from the survivors.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The Shadowfell Rift has been closed.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius’s white eyes flutter open as his otherworldly vision dissipates. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“So this is what happened. They could not seal the gateway permanently, but they could lock it…and they locked it with the mirror we have before us, burying it with the bones of the shadow dragon they sacrificed, praying that it would never be found.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Grax Steelfeather grunts. “But why? Why not just destroy the key so that no one can open the gateway?”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“No,” the mage answers slowly, thinking. “No. The key is linked to the gate. Destroy the key, and you destroy the bond on the gate. The key must be kept hidden and safe at all co—”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The diviner is interrupted by a horrendous CRACK!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Douvan nearly jumps out of his boots. Grax gasps, hands reaching for his bow.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The Mirror of Scarvoss has ruptured. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fissure.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Black smoke begins to jet from the crack like steam escaping a kettle, forming into a draconic shadow that circles the mirror, and a rasping voice says:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“WHO…HAS…DISTURBED…MY SLUMBER?”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Douvan pulls his sword, Grax slings a bow off his shoulder, and Valsuvius raises both hands in an imploring gesture.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“Wait! Wait, o’ spirit! I can explain. You are not asleep! You…you have passed beyond, great dragon. You…you are a spirit now, trapped in a mirror. A powerful mirror that acts as a key to the Shadowfell from whence you came.” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The draconic shadow condenses more and coalesces into a something that is not quite solid. Shifting vapors constitute its black eyes, fangs and talons. The temperature in the room has dropped considerably. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“DEAD? WHAT? DEAD? I…I AM…DEAD? IMPOSSIBLE!”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The shadow dragon bellows, but lacking adequate lungs, the sound is more of a hissing screech. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“LIES! LIES! I AM NAR-SHAGGA! I AM BLACKSOUL! </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">AND I AM NO MAN’S PAWN!” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate6.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The creature lunges, its sinewy head striking like a viper at Valsuvius. The diviner falls, screaming, and both Douvan and Grax leap to his aid. The ranger swings his blade, tearing wisps of shadowstuff from the thing’s body, while Grax pulls an arrow and looses it. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The door to the chamber bangs open and the guards enter, but Blacksoul turns on them, unleashing a torrent of putrescence. The necrotic breath weapon dissolves their flesh and the guards liquefy to blackened slush inside their armor, squelching messily through the cracks into black puddles. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate8.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Disheartened by that show of power, Douvan grits his teeth and falls upon the shadow dragon with renewed force. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“Hold it off!” Valsuvius shouts, and clambers to the back of the room, rummaging through a chest. His request is easier said than done, Douvan thinks, as Blacksoul’s chilly maw clamps on the ranger’s arm. He is frozen to the bone, pain coursing up and down his arm. Shadowy wings enclose him, sucking the very life from his body, and just as everything begins to grow dark, a hand reaches in and pulls him free! Douvan staggers to his knees beside Grax, who fires three burning arrows in succession, each bursting into a brilliant shower of sparks as they impact the incorporeal shadow dragon. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"><img src="http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate9.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The dragon’s eyes meet Grax and the archer is suddenly blinded by agonizing pain. Across the room, Douvan pulls out his Bow of Phlegos and launches two missiles into the dragon’s shadowy body. It writhes in pain, twisting and turning, and even as it prepares to attack Douvan, Valsuvius intervenes, holding a glowing bauble in his hands not unlike a large luminescent pearl.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">“Return to the mirror, foul spirit!” the diviner shouts. “Return from whence you came and trouble us no more! NOW GO!”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">The orb flares, and with another shriek, Blacksoul retreats into the crack, disappearing as quickly as it appeared, and with another CRACK! the mirror reseals.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">There is no evidence that anything happened at all other than the liquefied guards. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Valsuvius sighs and lowers the orb. “I…don’t think I’ll be casting any more spells upon that mirror,” he says wearily.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">Douvan wholeheartedly agrees.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">***</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">They also agree that the mirror is dangerous. It is a key to unlock a terrible place, and so long as the key remains intact and hidden, the more likely the gate to the Shadowfell will remain shut. The diviner does not know about Kalarel or the heroes currently battling through the bowels of the Keep, but he suspects that the mischief caused by the Rift has yet to see a conclusion. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">He is right. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px">For his troubles, Douvan is given a fat bag of gold, and as far as he’s concerned, Winterhaven, The Mirror of Scarvoss and the Shadowrift Rift are somebody else’s problem. </span></span></p><p> <span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-size: 10px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 15px"></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nebulous, post: 4673951, member: 31465"] [SIZE=4]Side Trek (III): The Fate of Blacksoul [SIZE=2][size=4]Side Trek (III): The Fate of Blacksoul[/size] [color=red][GM Note: This final Side Trek developed slowly alongside the main plotline. The other players (save Douvan’s player) don’t know much about the mirror other than what they have read in the recaps]. [/color] After his last unpleasant encounter with Balthazar of the Potion Emporium, Douvan Stahl is not particularly keen about meeting more wizards. Alas, it is necessary if he wishes to retrieve the Mirror of Scarvoss that Grax Steelfeather confiscated the day before, and Douvan doesn’t know if Merple the Moneylender can help Douvan pawn the item off because Merple is currently a large bespectacled, useless green toad. Maybe it’s just temporary. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/merptoad.jpg[/img] The ranger and his halfing companion Merric Littlefoot have stayed at the Green Dragon Inn, a comfortable abode that they frequent when in town. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/silverdawn.jpg[/img] Douvan has told Merric all about the incident—the toad curse and the pseudo-dragon, the sewers and the wererats, etc. But Merric is distracted with his own problems. Apparently, his aunt cannot find her son Shuck Hairfoot, who is a Merric’s cousin, and she wants Merric to look for him. Merric doesn’t particularly like Shuck. He’s a fat, conniving halfling with a bad temper, but Merric has agreed to help his aunt anyway out of respect for her. Shuck Hairfoot was last seen heading south in the company of a blond female minstrel… [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/shuck.jpg[/img] [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/minstrel.jpg[/img] [GM Note: There was actually another Side Trek never played out; Merric and Douvan were supposed to meet Shuck at Salvana Wrafton’s Inn and get into a fistfight, foreshadowing Shuck’s alliance with Kalarel. This session would have involved more interaction with Valthrun the Prescient, which I just summarized instead later on. The only clue that the players have concerning Shuck is a signed note to Kalarel, but I doubt they remembered]. Finishing breakfast, Douvan bids Merric good luck and goodbye, and heads toward the Rookery, which is practically next door to the College of Thaumaturgy across the River Rauvin. The morning air is split by shrill cries from griffons perched on the parapets. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/rookery2.jpg[/img] Douvan is asked about his business at the front gate, and he responds that he is here to meet Grax Steelfeather of the Griffon Guard. Before long the purple-plumed warrior appears, sans his mount, and greets Douvan with a curt nod. “Excellent. You remembered to come. Unfortunately I don’t have an answer for you yet. Our diviner Valsuvius the Blind has only given your mirror a cursory glance…but he DID want to know who brought it here. He would like to speak with you personally.” “Great.” Douvan doesn’t know what more he can tell this wizard. Valthrun of Winterhaven didn’t tell Douvan much besides that the mirror was a great threat to the town and had something to do with an evil realm called the Shadowfell. Still, he agrees to help. They step inside the vaulted corridors of the Rookery, which Grax explains is the main training and housing quarters for the Griffon Guard of Silverymoon (including the occasional owl, pegasus and hippogriff). The lowers levels are still reserved for a few magical endeavors instead of being solely focused in the College of Thaumaturgy. They descend multiple flights of stairs, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the structure, passing numerous glow globes that shed eternal light of varying colors. Eventually they reach some large double doors and Grax knocks. A moment later they swing open, revealing an older, blind Eladrin mage bearing a staff. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/valsuvius2.jpg[/img] “Ah...” he says, “you must be Douvan Stahl, bringer of our mysterious mirror. I cannot see with my eyes, true, but there are ways to see beyond that, young man. Come, walk with me.” Valsuvius takes Douvan’s arm, tapping with his staff while Grax follows. Valsuvius talks along the way. “I was able to cast a few simple enchantments upon the mirror, but it is highly resistant to any sort of divination. Almost as if the mirror actively resists anyone learning its past. If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about where you found it, and the circumstances.” Sighing, and thinking that this is a waste of time, Douvan recounts the story again, including the kobold clan and the bugbear attack, and Valthrun’s ominous warning that the mirror must be removed as far from Winterhaven as possible. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate1.jpg[/img] Nodding, the old diviner doesn’t say much while they walk, other than asking for the occasional clarification. They soon reach a set of iron doors that are guarded by two soldiers. They stand aside as Valsuvius, Douvan and Grax enter a room that doesn’t exactly fill Douvan with confidence. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate3.jpg[/img] It is a wizard’s chamber, designed from top to bottom with magical rituals in mind. Bizarre statues line the back wall, and the center of room is dominated by a dais and altar. Fumes rise from two burning braziers and the acrid smoke burns Douvan’s nostrils. And the Mirror of Scarvoss is waiting here too. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/scarvoss.jpg[/img] [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate5.jpg[/img] Valsuvius genially taps the mirror with his staff. “What exactly are you, my friend? Will you tell me your secrets now? Eh? I think we should try a new approach.” Valsuvius asks Grax and Douvan to stand with him on the dais. Douvan can’t imagine why. The old diviner sprinkles silver dust into the air while holding a hefty tome in his hand. Valsuvius begins chanting in a strange tongue, reciting undecipherable words that he must have memorized. The braziers sparkle and burn brighter, filling the room with haze. Douvan begins to feel lightheaded and woozy… …and then Valsuvius stops speaking. His blind eyes are squeezed shut. The three of them stand in utter silence and stillness, colored smoke wafting around them in slow, eddying currents. In fact, the mage is SO still and quiet for so long that Douvan thinks he has fallen asleep. But then-- “I see…” Valsuvius says in his cracked, leathery voice, “…a time from long ago. A place shrouded by darkness. Below ground. There are…people here. Many people. Warriors and priests. Wizards and disciples. I see…banners…and emblems…regalia of Bahamut, Meilikki, Kelemvor, Chauntea and more. They are gathered in defense. They are frightened. Frightened of…the shadows.” The old seer shifts his weight, eyes still closed, as if trying to peel back the veil of years. “I see a mirror near a large altar. A…cracked mirror. Yes. A…damaged mirror. There are chains on the altar, bands of silvery adamantium. A…a man in robes is approaching the altar. His name…his name…his name…is SCARVOSS. Yes. He is a great mage. Powerful. He has a plan to defeat the shadows. These wizards and priests and holy warriors are all gathered here to help him, on the threshold of the gate, for he needs time…time to complete a dire ritual.” Valsuvius sways, clearly in an altered state of mind, and Douvan supports the old man’s weight. Grax Steelfeather is looking extremely upset that he was asked to attend this little séance. “This…wizard…Scarvoss…knows that a rift is open. It is a gateway to a dark realm of undeath and pain, and it has flooded the countryside with unspeakable horrors. They have come here to close the gate through sheer faith and force…but they need…a sacrifice.” The diviner stumbles, as if what he sees is troublesome. “They have brought a beast through the rift. A dragon. A black dragon. No! A…shadow dragon. The creature is subdued. It is chained to the altar. Scarvoss must complete this working, but it will take time, and the Rift will not wait! Agh!” [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/blacksoul.jpg[/img] Valsuvius falls to his knees, the book clattering to the floor. “The Rift,” whispers the diviner. “The Rift is open, disgorging foulness into the world. The dead are restless. Furious. They attack all they can see! A horde of undeath is pouring from the Shadowfell Rift!” [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/druid.jpg[/img] Valsuvius sees a wave of ghosts, ghouls and worse storm the room, clashing with the priests and holy warriors who are defending Scarvoss. The valiant men and women that die are animated as horrible zombies and ghouls, attacking their former friends and comrades. The ritual is a lengthy one, and it culminates with Scarvoss PLUNGING a sacrificial dagger into the dragon’s bosom and cutting its heart out. The creature’s heart and soul is ripped forth and thrust into the waiting receptacle of the mirror, which magically mends itself. The undead abominations scream as their link to the Shadowfell is disrupted. The shadowy portal wobbles and then closes, and cheers erupt from the survivors. The Shadowfell Rift has been closed. Valsuvius’s white eyes flutter open as his otherworldly vision dissipates. “So this is what happened. They could not seal the gateway permanently, but they could lock it…and they locked it with the mirror we have before us, burying it with the bones of the shadow dragon they sacrificed, praying that it would never be found.” Grax Steelfeather grunts. “But why? Why not just destroy the key so that no one can open the gateway?” “No,” the mage answers slowly, thinking. “No. The key is linked to the gate. Destroy the key, and you destroy the bond on the gate. The key must be kept hidden and safe at all co—” The diviner is interrupted by a horrendous CRACK! Douvan nearly jumps out of his boots. Grax gasps, hands reaching for his bow. The Mirror of Scarvoss has ruptured. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fissure.jpg[/img] Black smoke begins to jet from the crack like steam escaping a kettle, forming into a draconic shadow that circles the mirror, and a rasping voice says: “WHO…HAS…DISTURBED…MY SLUMBER?” Douvan pulls his sword, Grax slings a bow off his shoulder, and Valsuvius raises both hands in an imploring gesture. “Wait! Wait, o’ spirit! I can explain. You are not asleep! You…you have passed beyond, great dragon. You…you are a spirit now, trapped in a mirror. A powerful mirror that acts as a key to the Shadowfell from whence you came.” The draconic shadow condenses more and coalesces into a something that is not quite solid. Shifting vapors constitute its black eyes, fangs and talons. The temperature in the room has dropped considerably. “DEAD? WHAT? DEAD? I…I AM…DEAD? IMPOSSIBLE!” The shadow dragon bellows, but lacking adequate lungs, the sound is more of a hissing screech. “LIES! LIES! I AM NAR-SHAGGA! I AM BLACKSOUL! AND I AM NO MAN’S PAWN!” [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate6.jpg[/img] The creature lunges, its sinewy head striking like a viper at Valsuvius. The diviner falls, screaming, and both Douvan and Grax leap to his aid. The ranger swings his blade, tearing wisps of shadowstuff from the thing’s body, while Grax pulls an arrow and looses it. The door to the chamber bangs open and the guards enter, but Blacksoul turns on them, unleashing a torrent of putrescence. The necrotic breath weapon dissolves their flesh and the guards liquefy to blackened slush inside their armor, squelching messily through the cracks into black puddles. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate8.jpg[/img] Disheartened by that show of power, Douvan grits his teeth and falls upon the shadow dragon with renewed force. “Hold it off!” Valsuvius shouts, and clambers to the back of the room, rummaging through a chest. His request is easier said than done, Douvan thinks, as Blacksoul’s chilly maw clamps on the ranger’s arm. He is frozen to the bone, pain coursing up and down his arm. Shadowy wings enclose him, sucking the very life from his body, and just as everything begins to grow dark, a hand reaches in and pulls him free! Douvan staggers to his knees beside Grax, who fires three burning arrows in succession, each bursting into a brilliant shower of sparks as they impact the incorporeal shadow dragon. [img]http://www.zikadik.com/shadowfell/fate9.jpg[/img] The dragon’s eyes meet Grax and the archer is suddenly blinded by agonizing pain. Across the room, Douvan pulls out his Bow of Phlegos and launches two missiles into the dragon’s shadowy body. It writhes in pain, twisting and turning, and even as it prepares to attack Douvan, Valsuvius intervenes, holding a glowing bauble in his hands not unlike a large luminescent pearl. “Return to the mirror, foul spirit!” the diviner shouts. “Return from whence you came and trouble us no more! NOW GO!” The orb flares, and with another shriek, Blacksoul retreats into the crack, disappearing as quickly as it appeared, and with another CRACK! the mirror reseals. There is no evidence that anything happened at all other than the liquefied guards. Valsuvius sighs and lowers the orb. “I…don’t think I’ll be casting any more spells upon that mirror,” he says wearily. Douvan wholeheartedly agrees. *** They also agree that the mirror is dangerous. It is a key to unlock a terrible place, and so long as the key remains intact and hidden, the more likely the gate to the Shadowfell will remain shut. The diviner does not know about Kalarel or the heroes currently battling through the bowels of the Keep, but he suspects that the mischief caused by the Rift has yet to see a conclusion. He is right. For his troubles, Douvan is given a fat bag of gold, and as far as he’s concerned, Winterhaven, The Mirror of Scarvoss and the Shadowrift Rift are somebody else’s problem. [/SIZE] [/SIZE] [/QUOTE]
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