Shilsen's Eberron SH (Finished - The Last Word : 9/20/15)

[shilsen]

Ahh poolitical intrigue - where Lunua's Flame Strikes (tm) are near useless.

notice how I said 'near useless'...

As the druids say - When your only tool is a flame strike, everything looks flammable.

Luckily, the PCs have realized they're out of their depth when it comes to urban skullduggery and political maneuvering and are working hard at building up some support for their side. Especially Six, who's putting his improved abilities (he put the permanent +4 enhancements from the Silver Flame into Int, Wis and Cha, giving him the second highest Int and Cha in the party) to good use.

And here we go, with my 4th update in 7 days (and expect another, much longer, one on Thursday, detailing the dinner with the Boromars and the fun things Gareth does there)...

* * * * * *
Picking up Allies

The next day, the Angels visit Black Arch, the garrison district of Lower Tavick’s. The dark, foreboding district is the gateway to the rest of Sharn for all who enter it by land, and is clearly designed to stand a siege if needed. Fortified spires and guard posts abound, and heavy portcullises stand ready to seal off the main entrances as needed. The center of the district is dominated by a massive tower of sable stone, and it is to this garrison that the Angels head.

The note from Sava Kharisa makes entrance easier, but even so, it is a good hour or so before they are able to see Iyanna ir’Talan, the supposedly incorruptible commander of the Tavick’s Landing branch of the City Watch. They find her to be surprisingly young, looking as if she were in her late 20s or early 30s at best. The plain-featured and serious-looking woman with short brown hair looks up from a piled desk as they are ushered into her office.

“Yes? How may I help you?”

The Angels introduce themselves and Iyanna says, “I know of you, though we haven’t met. I have read and heard of some of your exploits.” The tone is dry and non-committal.

Nameless says, “Since we’ve moved into a building in Upper Tavick’s, as I’m sure you’ve heard, we thought we would come by and introduce ourselves.”

“I appreciate the courtesy, but no, I hadn’t heard. Upper Tavick’s is outside my jurisdiction. It has its own branch of the Watch and the Deneith Blademark handling matters.”

“Yes,” says Nameless. “We also wanted to offer you any help we can, and to offer refuge if you ever need it.”

“Refuge?” asks Iyanna, sounding surprised.

“You do know that there’s an expectation that you won’t live out the year, correct?”

Iyanna replies dryly. “Yes. I had forgotten to check on the odds currently on offer. And you are offering me refuge in case people try to kill me?”

“Yes. If you ever need sanctuary, we’d be happy to provide it.”

Iyanna’s lips flicker into the ghost of a smile and she says, “Well, it’s been a long time since someone made that kind of offer to me. Thanks, but I have to say that if I’m not here at my desk, I’d in all likelihood have to be dead. But tell me – why are you being so … helpful?”

“We want to be on good terms with law enforcement in the city,” explains Nameless, “And you were especially well recommended to us by Sava Kharisa.” He hands over the note the councilor had given the group.

Iyanna reads it, and for the first time, a real smile crosses her face. “Good. If Sava vouches for you, that’s good enough for me.” She looks around the group and says, “And I appreciate the offer of aid. All of the commanders like to have a few skilled contacts for jobs that the regular watch can’t handle, and I believe your abilities are well beyond what our normal forces can bring to the table.”

“That’s true,” says Nameless frankly. “Also, we can provide some help with divinations, if not-so-direct help is needed.”

“That’s good to know. We usually have the Blackened Book take care of such things, but an extra option never hurts.”

“We’ve actually had a lot of contact with Balan Cord of the Blackened Book,” adds Six.

“Ah! Warden Cord is one of their best countermages. We’ve worked together before.” Iyanna leans forward and rests both elbows on her desk. “Sava and I have recently been working on a series of operations designed to significantly – at least so we hope – cut into drug trafficking in this city. We might be able to use your expertise there.”

A couple of the Angels wince and Nameless says, “We’d like to, but we have a problem in one area. We have an agreement with Daask not to harm them in any way for six months?”

“You have an agreement with Daask?”

“It’s a long story. In short, we attacked one of their drug dens for a little exercise, got careless and two of us,” he indicates Gareth and himself, “Got captured. They released us in return for a promise not to attack them in any way for six months.”

“They released you?”

“Yes,” puts in Gareth. “They were worried that if they killed us, that the rest of the team would cause so much damage in revenge that it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Bah!” grunts Luna. “They just knew I was coming.” She grins at Iyanna. “These four geniuses went off to beat up on Daask for fun and got two of them captured. Never send a man to do a woman’s job.”

Iyanna doesn’t smile, but her lips twitch slightly. Then she looks at Nameless and says, her tone dry, “All right. This would be a good time to tell me if you have any agreements with the Boromars too.”

“No,” replies Nameless, “But we are having dinner with them tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Got the invitation yesterday.” Nameless produces it and slides it across for Iyanna to read.

“Do you have any idea why you received this invitation?”

“I’m guessing it’s simply because we’ve bought a house in a high society area and it’s essentially a social gathering,” says Gareth.

“Hardly. Saidan wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t want something, even if it be just some information about you.” She hands back the invitation and says, “I’d appreciate it if you tell me what happens at the dinner.”

“We will,” promises Nameless.

After a little more conversation, the Angels leave. As they are heading back to the house, Nameless says, “Well, that makes a few useful contacts, with Balan, Talleon, Sava and her.”

“I hope so,” says Korm. “We really need a few people on our side.”

* * * * * *
Gareth answers the knock on the door to see a young man, dressed much like one of the Blades might be, armored in a chain shirt, with a rapier at his side and a shortbow on his back.

“Hello – I’m looking for Mithral Six of Six. I was sent by Warden Balan Cord.”

“Come on in. I am Gareth. And you are?”

“Call me Fett,” says the man with a friendly smile, shaking Gareth’s hand and following him in.

Gareth leads Fett into the parlor, where the others are. He quickly introduces himself and then addresses Six.

“You must be Six. Balan said that you were looking to hire someone who’d be able to keep an ear out for news around Sharn, especially regarding the underworld?”

“Yes, I am” says Six, waving Fett to a seat. To the others, he says, “I went to talk to Balan about Daask and the Boromars and asked for a contact or two in this area.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Korm. “We could really use it, and we also really suck at it, as someone recently pointed out.”

Six emits a metallic chuckle and turns to Fett. “All right. Tell us a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job.”

“All right,” says Fett. “Firstly, just so there are no misunderstandings, I’m a changeling.”

“Okay. Probably works out the better for us if we hire you in this regard.”

“Yes, it does,” says Fett, with a smile, and then provides the Angels with a quick coverage of personal information. He is actually a former member of the Blades of Arakhain*, probably the best known adventuring group in Sharn before the Guardian Angels, and says he was in the group when it took out the Emerald Claw cell here in Gray House. When his companions returned to the Mournland with aid from Houses Cannith and Deneith to go after the Lord of Blades, whom they had encountered on a previous visit there, he respectfully declined.

“One visit there was enough,” he says, “Thank you very much. Unfortunately, you’ve already heard what happened to the rest of the group there.” The Angels nod, knowing that the Blades of Arakhain were all killed in the battle during which the Lord of Blades was slain.

Fett goes on to say that he’s been in Sharn for the last two months, building up contacts, many of them in the underworld, and creating a few working identities. Since he had worked with Balan in eliminating the Emerald Claw, Balan thought of him after Six made the request. Fett says that he’d be happy to work for the Angels, who he has heard a lot about, as well as seeing them at the festival of Dol Dorn (where they dueled some of his now late companions). This job would allow him to use his specific skills, earn some money, and have some powerful allies.

Gareth, at this point, says that in view of their experiences, he’d like to use a few divinations on Fett, namely a detect evil, a zone of truth and a detect thoughts. Fett looks momentarily hesitant, but then agrees, saying, “Now I’m curious what happened to you guys to make you so paranoid.”

“Got a couple of months?” grunts Korm.

Gareth uses his spells and discovers that Fett is not evil and is honest about what he is saying. He keeps the detect thoughts running while the discussion continues.

Fett then asks if the Angels want him to live in the Gray House with them, which he is willing to do. After some discussion, they decide that would be most convenient. They also warn him that certain areas will be warded and he should avoid going there. Six especially points out that he should never, ever go into Nameless’ kitchen.

“My kitchen?” asks Nameless.

“Yes,” says Korm. “We discussed it yesterday. Six doesn’t eat, but the rest of us are not putting our food where you’re putting your food. Hell – I’m sure your food would be eating our food!”

Six looks seriously at Fett and says, “In Nameless’ kitchen, the food eats you!”

Fett chuckles and says he’ll make a note of that. More seriously, he adds that he’ll need two days off every week, to be determined by him, but will be available the rest of the time. He’s also happy to look after the house if the Angels are not around. Similarly, while they are there, he’ll fight beside them to guard it. He warns them, however, that while he can take care of himself in a fight, when it comes to combat, he’s nowhere near their league. Gareth asks about his abilities and he says that he’s a swordsman, not a spellcaster, but can activate all kinds of magical items.

Fett asks for 250 galifars monthly, along with the room and board being provided for him, plus any expenses that he incurs while gathering information for them. He adds that if they, during their adventures, find magical items that they can spare, he’d be very grateful for them. Fett also checks if he is being hired by Six or the group as a whole, because it’s a question of both loyalty and who he answers to. The Angels confirm that it is a group hire.

Lastly, Fett mentions a couple of things in the interests of complete honesty. He says that even though he may work for the Angels, he will need his privacy. He has certain personal affairs that he will not share with them. But anything he ever learns that is germane to them he will share, and he will work for their benefit unstintingly. Naturally, he will respect their privacy too, and if there are things which they don’t share with him, he understands, and what information they do give him will always remain private. On a particularly changeling-like aspect of privacy, Fett says that he will inform them about a couple of the other identities that he uses, and asks that if they see him around Sharn in such an identity, they shouldn’t acknowledge they know him unless he does.

The discussion is interrupted by the arrival of Flim Turen. When Six meets him at the door, Fett inside recognizes the voice. “Oh lord – you guys know him too?”

A couple of the Angels roll their eyes. “Unfortunately. You want us to distract him so that you can leave?”

Fett shrugs. “If I’m working for you, people will find out soon enough. As long as they just know ‘Fett’ is working for you and not any of my other identities, I don’t care.”

Six walks in with Flim, who immediately recognizes Fett and asks him how he’s connected to the Angels. Gareth interrupts quickly. “No questions.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t get to ask Fett any questions. And you, Fett, don’t answer any. That’s the deal, Flim – take it or leave it.”

The gnome shrugs and says, “Not a big deal. Anyway, I just came by to show you the ‘teaser’ notice about your column.”

“You guys have a column in the Chronicle?” asks Fett.

“They’re going to,” replies Flim. “In two days. A weekly column about the amazing adventures of the Guardian Angels. Go on – take a look.” He hands over a folded paper to Luna.

“I’m half afraid to,” grumbles the druid, as she opens it and reads aloud. At the top of the sheet in her hands, in bold, are the words, “The Guardian Angels Soar in the Pages of the Korranberg Chronicle.” Below, the ‘teaser’ explains that the KC will now be carrying a weekly article documenting the adventures of the Guardian Angels, Sharn’s premier adventuring group. It will begin with the events mentioned in passing in the KC over a month ago, when they found an undiscovered island near Xen’drik, beginning an amazing set of adventures, taking them across the lands of Khorvaire in a mighty quest, the result of which would affect the fates of the Five Nations and beyond. Stay tuned!

“Are you guys sure about this?” asks Korm.

“I don’t really like it,” says Six.

Flim says, “Look – you guys are among the hot topics in Sharn. There will be articles about you. This way, you can make sure they’re accurate, and that they don’t print things you don’t want out there.”

“Exactly,” says Gareth. “If we don’t give you the details, you’ll just dig them up and print them – right, Flim?”

The gnome smiles. “Yup! So you might as well use this opportunity for all it’s worth.”

“Fine,” says Nameless. “Just make sure you stick to the agreement.”

“Sure thing. Now tell me more about this voyage and the island.”

Nameless provides a fairly good coverage of the subject, with Flim asking questions and taking notes. As the gnome points out, they won’t be getting down to precise details in the articles, due to space issues, so he generally touches on the more newsworthy moments. Eventually, when the events on the island are covered, Flim says, “Thanks. That should be good for 3-4 weeks. So tell me, anything you want left out, emphasized, or the like?”

After a moment’s thought, Nameless says, “I don’t want the precise description of the shard. Describe it as an emerald globe that has some connection to bindings.”

Flim makes a note. “Sure. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Hold on,” says Six, “I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“You said you could find information from the Library of Korranberg for us, right?”

“Yeah. What do you need?”

“We’ve had some experiences with this binding oriented stuff. I’ll like to know whatever I can about binding magic. Zilargo is where that’s all done, right?”

“Elemental binding is. That’s what you want to find out about?”

“Yes.”

Flim shakes his head. “Even the Library can’t tell you how to do it. That’s just too important a trade secret. Zilargo has never shared it with anyone, and the average gnome has no idea how it’s done. I have no clue. Sorry. I can try to get you what the Library has on it, but you won’t get any details of how to do it.”

Six shrugs. “That’s all right. I’ll take whatever you can get.”

Flim says he’ll have it for Six in a few days and takes his leave. After he’s gone, the Angels spend a lot more time talking to Fett, telling him about their adventures and asking about the Blades of Arakhain. Six is especially interested in the fact that the Blades, and especially their most outspoken member, the priestess Amaris Medani, had been directly involved in House Cannith’s recent offer of employment to all warforged, as well as their promise to try and buy out the indentured servitude that many warforged in the Cogs lived under.

Fett, meanwhile, is especially interested in the group’s encounters with Daask and their impending dinner with the Boromars. It also emerges that the Blades had encountered Killian too, though only once. “He offered us a job,” says Fett, with a laugh, “And six hours later we – well, they – were on their way to the Mournland.” The laugh slips slightly and the Angels remember that this was the trip his companions never returned from.

“Sounds like they were smarter than us,” comments Korm.

Fett eventually takes his leave, promising to be back the next day. Before he goes, he wishes the Angels best of luck with their dinner.

Once he is gone, the Angels look at each other. “Time to get ready to meet the halfling crime boss. Oh, joy!”


* He’s actually a PC from my other Eberron campaign, now discontinued, which featured the Blades of Arakhain.

 

[Rackhir]

And in our next up date we'll learn why High Charisma + Ranks in Diplomacy /= Tactful.

 

[Furby076]

And in our next up date we'll learn why High Charisma + Ranks in Diplomacy /= Tactful.

Now now Rack...as a computer nerd you should know that it is:

"!=" not "/="

C code would be very upset with you!

Sides, there are times Gareth cares about diplomacy (99% of the time) and times when Gareth wants to piss someone off.

 

[Rackhir]

Now now Rack...as a computer nerd you should know that it is:

"!=" not "/="

C code would be very upset with you!

Yeah, and it's ^= in SAS and <> in MS VB...

/= is correct for Fortran in any case.

 

[Sidekick]

Sidekick looks over his head with a glazed look as the last two posts content leaps over him with ease.

Damn jump check modifiers, he thinks.

More story please.

FOR TRUTH JUSTICE AND MY NEED TO AVOID WORK!!!!

 

[shilsen]

Here you go. An especially long instalment this time:

* * * * * *
That evening, following the directions in the letter, the group takes a skycoach to the Little Plains district of Middle Menthis. By their standards, the Angels are extremely well dressed, most of them having taken time out to do a little preparatory shopping. Almost none of them carry weapons openly, though Gareth is wearing his longsword, having stowed them all in the newly purchased portable hole Nameless is carrying. Of them all, Nameless looks the most distinctive, not because of his garb but because of his brightly glowing blue eyes, a result of the arcane sight he has cast on himself with a permanency. Even as the vehicle slowly soars in for a landing, it is clear that this area has a very distinctive nature, and as they embark and head inwards, the Angels find themselves in an area unlike any other in Sharn.

The population is the first change, the vast majority of it consisting of the various shorter species, predominantly halfling, with some gnomes and even a few kobolds. The skybridges are proportionately narrower, sometimes half the size of those found elsewhere in Sharn. The spatial relations between streets and towers are also different. Most of the middle and upper districts have skybridges joining large central open spaces, which connect multiple buildings that are attached to the outer sides of towers. Here, these plaza-like central areas are lacking, being replaced by a network of streets and skybridges that coil around the outside of the towers and giving access to low doorways that lead to dark, cave-like interiors. The towers themselves have been carved to resemble tents with curving sides. The effect is a district that looks like a city made of large tents, supposedly resembling the central town of Gatherhold in the Talenta Plains.

The effect is heightened by the traditional Talenta clothing that many of the inhabitants wear, and even more so by the presence of dinosaurs. Dozens of them are visible, walking across the skybridges, usually bearing riders. Some of the more skilled – or daring – ones cut across the sides of buildings or sometimes even the underside of a bridge. There are also a number of flying dinosaurs, not all with riders. They flap and soar among the towers, some of which have been built with perches for them to rest on.

The Boromar estate is easily the largest of the buildings in Little Plains, and draws one’s gaze because it is not just central but also close to two other buildings that are among the largest. One looks like a council hall for the district, while the other is a temple of Boldrei. Reaching the estate, the Angels find themselves accosted by four halfling guards, two on dinosaurs. After checking their invitation letter, one leads the group through the main entrance, where they are met by a plump, matronly halfling, who greets them and says they are expected.

She leads them down a hall to a comfortable sitting room, with furnishings designed for people of the Angels’ size, as well as for smaller people. As they walk through the hall, the adventurers notice that most of the exits they pass have been built (or rebuilt) for shorter people, which would make passage (and attacks) by human sized or larger creatures very difficult. Seeing them, Nameless grins and casts an alter self, taking the form of a halfling. The matron doesn’t even twitch a hair as he does so, just as she did not even glance at his glowing eyes, which he now veils through the new spell. She simply asks them to be seated and to enjoy the refreshments, saying that their host will be with them shortly.

As she leaves, the Angels quietly begin to talk among themselves.

“I’m not seeing signs of any other guests,” says Luna, while reaching for a bowl of dried nuts on the table.

“Maybe we’re the only ones?” hazards Korm.

Gareth frowns slightly. “Then it’s unlikely that this is just a social invitation.”

Six looks at him and sadly shakes his head, while Nameless says, “Let’s see now … probably most famous adventurers in Sharn … have some notoriety for destroying,” he catches a look from Luna and amends, “…um, attacking Daask drug dens … no, I don’t think they called us just because they want to welcome us to the neighborhood.”

“Well,” says Gareth, “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. I am a little curious to see what they want and how they expect to get it.”

“Speaking of seeing,” says Nameless, “If you even think of trying to detect thoughts on the head of the Boromars, or anyone else in here, I will disintegrate your ass. You almost got us killed by Daask trying that dumb stunt.”

Gareth scowls, but then mutters, “I wasn’t about to try that. Don’t worry. I’m not…”

The conclusion to the sentence, and the inevitable rejoinder from one or more of his companions, is interrupted by the entrance of a pair of halfling guards through another doorway. They stop as they enter and step to the side, to allow the entrance of a group of three halflings and a gnome.

In the lead is a middle-aged man, his hair (worn openly, without the traditional Talenta topknot) streaked with gray. Beside him walks a plump woman of roughly the same age, the tip of a dragonmark emerging from her long-sleeved blouse. Behind them walks a younger woman, whom the Angels recognize as Ilyra Boromar, the city councilor. And behind her is the gnome, a man who seems about the same age as or slightly older than the leader. All of the halflings are dressed in simple but very well-made darkweave clothing, while the gnome wears more ordinary garb, like that of a well-to-do clerk.

“Greetings to my home,” says the male halfling, as he walks up and extends a hand. The Angels notice that he is almost completely silent as he walks, only the preternaturally fine hearing of Luna, Korm and Six picking up a whisper of sound from his footfalls. “I am Saidan Boromar,” he says, shaking hands. “This is my wife, Mala, and here is my daughter, Ilyra, who some of you may know as the councilor from Lower Dura.” The two women smile and greet the Angels, while Saidan turns to the gnome. “This is my accountant, Castar. He will be joining us for dinner. Please, sit down.”

As the Angels resume their seats, the others join them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” continues Saidan. “I have been reading and hearing about the Guardian Angels for so long that I thought I should meet you for myself.” He asks them how they are doing and begins to make general chit-chat, with Ilyra and Mala joining in. Castar, who is seated a little further away, simply sits silently and watches the group, saying nothing at all.

The conversation is pleasant but slightly strained, since the Angels are mostly just wondering what the real reason for the invitation is and when they will find out, as well as somewhat discomfited by the presence Castar, watching and studying them silently. After about fifteen minutes, they are interrupted by the entrance of another halfling. This one is disproportionately, almost comically muscular, his biceps straining the material of the hunting jacket he wears. A very functional-looking Talenta tangat is strapped to his back. As he enters, Saidan waves him over. When he comes over, Saidan introduces him as Halak Boromar, his “security chief.” Saidan adds, “You know crime in the city; you can never be too careful.”

Turning to Halak, he asks, “Is the problem taken care of?” and Halak replies simply, “Yes.” Saidan says, “Good. I will speak with you after dinner.”

Halak goes to the doorway, and then stops, turns and looks at the Angels. The expression on his face is much like that of a housewife at the market, sizing up cuts of meat. After a couple of seconds, Saidan notices and turns to look at him. He frowns slightly and Halak turns and leaves. Saidan turns back to the group and says, “Halak’s fairly new to Sharn from the Plains, so his manners are a trifle lacking, but he’s a good worker.”

He is about to continue, when his wife’s expression catches his eye. “I believe dinner has been served,” he says quickly. “We can talk more during it. Please, follow me.” The Boromars rise and lead the group out through another door and down a short corridor to a large chamber.

Entering, they find that the room contains a number of long tables, a couple of which are already occupied by numerous halflings. They greet Saidan but do not rise, and he waves at them before leading the group to the main table, which has been set for nine people. As they seat themselves, he says, “Mealtime is a very communal thing for our people. We try to keep the old customs alive here, you know.” The Angels notice that the halflings at the other table have all their food served in large bowls or dishes that they all serve themselves and, and in some cases, eat from. The food at the main table, where they sit, is more traditional to Sharn, however.

As Six is resigning himself to another hour spent watching people eat, a server places a plate in front of him and removes the cover to reveal what look like three metal biscuits, each about two inches long and an inch wide. They seem to have some metal filings on them. Saidan smiles and says, “I know warforged do not eat, so I thought I’d get you something you might not have tried. Do you know the Red Hammer Inn?”

“No, though the name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It’s a place down in the Blackbones Cogs, run by and catering specifically to warforged. One of the people there has been experimenting with things that the warforged can taste. Supposedly these are appetizing for your species. You’re supposed to put them in your mouth but not swallow, I believe. Go ahead and try.”

A little skeptically, Six complies, to discover that the metal has been treated with various chemicals so as to react with the metal of his mouth and give off certain flavors that are particularly palpable to a warforged. With his normally very limited sense of taste, it is a very interesting experience.

While Six is trying the ‘biscuits’ and the others are digging into the quite delicious dinner, the Boromars continue to make small talk with the Angels. After a few minutes, Saidan says, “I heard that you had attacked a Daask drug den recently. And I think I remember something similar a few months ago, which was the first time I heard of you. Are you particularly opposed to Daask?”

In view of their knowledge of the Daask-Boromar equation, none of the Angels are surprised at the question. Some are amused, however, as they note Mala giving her husband the typical look of a wife whose husband insists on talking of work at dinner.

“No,” replies Nameless. “We just wanted to get some exercise and try out some new toys we have.”

“I see,” continues Saidan. “The reason I ask is that Daask has been causing trouble for some of my businesses…”

“What kind of businesses?” interrupts Gareth, sounding slightly more suspicious than he intended to.

Saidan frowns at the interruption and the tone. Mala quickly puts a hand on his arm and he smiles at her and then replies to Gareth. “Warehouses, for example. I have money in many of the warehouses servicing the docks. Some of my tenants have also been beaten up and robbed. I’m sure you’ve heard similar stories too.”

He leans forward, ignoring his food, and continues. “In view of your evident expertise and power, I was interested in hiring you to help teach Daask a lesson. Eradicating them from Sharn might be beyond even your abilities, but you could definitely hurt them significantly, and that might be enough for others, like the city Watch, to complete the job. What do you say?”

Nameless says quickly, “Unfortunately, we are busy with other engagements for the next six months.”

Gareth replies simultaneously, “We cannot accept the job, since we will be leaving the city soon.”

Saidan looks back and forth between the two and then addresses Nameless. “You say you’ll be busy here for six months, but he says you’re leaving Sharn. Which is it?”

“Both,” says Gareth. “We will be going on a quest shortly which will take us away from the city. And we cannot work for you.”

“Really? Why not, if I may ask?”

Gareth hesitates for a moment and then says, “You might want your daughter, the city councilor, to not hear this.”

Ilyra, who has been eating quietly and listening to the exchange, looks surprised. “I believe that anything you can say to my father you can say to me.” Saidan nods and says, “Yes. Go ahead. It seems you have something you’ve been waiting to tell me.”

“All right,” says Gareth curtly. “We will not work for you because you are just as dirty as Daask. Everybody knows that you are criminals, the only difference with Daask being that you have a political and a social face, which they do not. So in that sense, they are even more honest than you. I would not work for you under any circumstances.”

As Gareth is speaking, Saidan’s face turns beetroot red. When Gareth finishes, the halfling says grimly, “Mala, Ilyra – you can leave us now!” This time his wife says nothing, rising swiftly with her daughter and walking out, though she does stop at the door to glance back, a hint of worry in her eyes.

As soon as they are gone, Saidan leans forward and hisses, “You little punk!” (which would have sounded much more amusing coming from someone of his stature, in different circumstances). “You dare to accept my hospitality, sit at my table, and insult me? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

“I know exactly who I’m talking to,” replies Gareth coldly. “And I wouldn’t have said what I did if you hadn’t kept badgering us about working for you.”

Nameless tries to intervene, saying as politely as he can, “Please forgive our friend. He has…”

“Nameless!” begins Gareth irritatedly, “There’s no need to…”

“No,” continues Saidan, the redness slowly beginning to drain from his face, but his tone not changing. “There is just one thing which needs to be said. Do you stand by your friend’s opinions? Or should I be talking to you about the offer I made?”

“I’m not saying that we agree with his sentiments,” says Nameless, “But we cannot accept this job….”

“That’s all I needed to know,” says Saidan, rising to his feet. The halflings at the other tables, who have been silently watching what has been occurring at the main table, begin to rise too, but he waves them back into their seats. “Enjoy the rest of your meal and then leave.” He glares at Gareth. “I look forward to never having to meet you again.”

Gareth replies with only a level gaze and Saidan turns away and walks out of the chamber. The Angels exchange looks and then Gareth and Nameless say, “I think we should leave now.” Six rises quickly too as they do, followed more slowly by Korm.

“Darn! This was good stuff,” says Luna, before opening a bag and shoveling a couple of platefuls of food into it. “What? I’m still hungry!”

As the Angels leave the chamber, the two guards fall in behind them, keeping a respectful distance. They are halfway to the exit when another four guards emerge from a side doorway, preceded by Halak Boromar.

He walks up to Gareth and stands in front of him, looking him up and down, like a lumberjack examining a tree before felling it. Gareth looks down at him silently. Finally, Halak says, “You think you’re bloody clever, aren’t you? Insulting my boss in his home, knowing that he won’t do to you here, since you’re invited guests.”

“I did not know that,” says Gareth coldly, “And I would have told him that anywhere. Now do you have anything important to say to me?”

Halak’s lips curl back in a snarl and a hand reaches up to the tangat on his back, but then he lowers it, a combination of bloodlust and feral cunning shining in his eyes. “Nah! I can’t touch you here today. But maybe we’ll get a chance to discuss it somewhere else.”

Gareth doesn’t reply, and after a second, Halak steps away. He heads back towards the doorway he came from, only pausing to snap to the guards, “Throw the trash out.” They do not respond in any way, keeping the same respectful distance from the group as they accompany them to the main entrance.

Once they are outside and heading quickly away, Korm lets out a deep breath. “Well – that was fun! So who can we go piss off next?”

* * * * * *
The next day, the Angels meet with Ythana Morr regarding the quest to find Jalus Baine’s remains. She suggests that they leave three days later, on the 1st of Sypheros, which is the festival of the Ascension, since it’s a holy day for the Flame. Gareth will join her in the celebration at the Cathedral in the morning, so she suggests they leave in the evening.

Ythana also introduces them to their guide, whom they’ve met before. He is Deemin, whose friend (Finch) Gareth had cured from possession, and both of whom had taken part in the attack on the first drug den with the Angels. Ythana says he has some knowledge of the Depths and can take them to the general area, adding that he’s reliable, if a little greedy. When the Angels talk to him, Deemin says that he’s been hearing a lot of talk about them at the Clifftop Adventuring Guild and looks forward to working with them. He also mentions that Finch won’t be along, because he refuses to go back into the Depths any more since the possession happened. From Ythana’s description of where she thinks Jalus was lost, they’ll be spending the better part of a day getting to the general area, and maybe more in there, depending how long searching takes. He also mentions that while he will lead them to the area and out again, he will avoid fighting if at all possible. As he says, “I’ve heard enough to know I’m not in your league. If we encounter something dangerous, I’m sure you can kill it. And if you can’t, I have no chance. Plus, if I get killed or hurt, you’ll never make it back topside.”

After they have spoken, Deemin leaves and Ythana continues telling them what she knows. She says that she has done a divination, asking “How can one best recover Jalus Baine’s remains and the Eternal Blade?”

The answer she received was: “Let the undying fruits of the tree of woe bloom, so that you may wither it forever.” Ythana says she can’t say precisely what that means, but with her experience of the spell, she is fairly sure that it has something to do with undead. To that end, she gives the group a dozen vials of holy water from the temple, and suggests that they prepare accordingly.

After they return home, Nameless suggests that he try a contact other plane to see if he can find any additional information on this tree of woe. The next day, after casting a few protective dweomers, he casts the spell. Slowly, over the course of the ten minutes of casting, his consciousness expands, until he is in temporary contact with a vast reservoir of cosmic knowledge, which appears to him as an illusory web, pulsing with light, every glowing mote on it consisting of a piece of information.

Nameless resists the accompanying near-physical pressure inside his head, which increases to almost unbearable levels, and then suddenly disappears. Then, as before, he hears a voice in his head – “Ask.”

Nameless asks, “Is the Tree of Woe from the Archierophant’s divination a creature?” There is a moment while the web reorients itself to center on one particular mote, and then it answers, “I do not know.”

His second question is, “Is it an undead?” The answer, this time is specific. “No.”

“Is it an object?” The pause seems longer. “Partly.”

“If we are in the area of the Tree of Woe, is the Eternal Blade obvious?” “Yes.”

“Is it guarded by a creature?” “I don’t know.”

As the spell fades away, Nameless shakes away the ringing in his head. “Well, that wasn’t very helpful. I guess we do it the hard way.”

During the intervening time, the Angels make various preparations and go about different activities. Gareth spends time at the Cathedral and with Lalia. Nameless visits Trillia and works on setting up a laboratory in the house, as well as coming up with plans for all the magical protections that will be added to the house. Korm and Luna give some effort to putting together a roof garden. Six spends a fair amount of time with Fett, now a regular fixture at the Gray House, giving him a list of things to find out about, as well as working on a small but intricate sculpture depicting the Little Plains area.

On the 1st, Gareth leaves home before sunrise to travel to the Cathedral. There, he joins the Archierophant and the other priests in preparing for the day’s ceremonies. The first worshippers begin to file in shortly after sunrise, and soon hundreds are present. The festival of the Ascension officially begins two hours after sunrise, and continues for hours. Gareth, in full ceremonial regalia, plays a significant role in the proceedings, and even gives a short sermon. In keeping with his recent travails, his choice of subject is that of faith during moments of extreme hardship and uncertainty.

The various official proceedings end at noon, though the less formal celebrations will continue throughout the day, and the Archierophant introduces Gareth to the various local dignitaries who have come to attend the ceremony. There is a particularly large contingent from the Thranish embassy, including the ambassador, Lady Anador ir’Laisha. She is pleasant enough when Gareth meets her, but as he passes he does hear angry whispering, among some of her followers, about a Karrnathi taking such a prominent part in the service. Neither Ythana nor Anador show any signs of noticing, and Gareth ignores it. After the introductions are over, Ythana suggests that Gareth get some rest and then leave with his companions for the Depths.

On the way back from the Cathedral, Gareth stops at a Sivis message station to send a letter home to his family. It says:

Dear Mother - Grandmother,

I hope all is going well with you and with the estate. There have been many things going on in my life since I last wrote. The most important is that we went hunting after a group of rakshashas, as one of them stole a dragonshard that was linked to us. This dragonshard prevented a daelkyr from entering our world, and destroyed the island we were on. During the final fight as we were about to destroy the last rakshasha he spoke to me, in my mind, and tried to coerce me to join him. Be it through the Silver Flame or my training as an Exorcist of the Silver Flame – it failed. He then attempted to bargain with me, and when I refused Kizmet shattered and emerged a demon. The rakshasha told me the demon inside Kizmet was what gave me my powers. While the Battle of Grace happened, my memories from the point after my father draining the last of his healing to me was a lie – an illusion created in my state of unconsciousness.

I am distraught and need counsel. I do not know where to go from here. I have spoken with the Archierophant and she performed some research. Father is with the Silver Flame; his soul traveled there and is safe from all that is evil. Some of those in my group, say that I was never a paladin – that I am a fraud. A degenerate who is as delusional as is a liar. I think I almost killed Six – I know I would have drawn my sword and cleaved him in two and it took all of my training to not do so. I most definitely did not act as a paladin should and insulted his sense of self. For him it is a sensitive topic to speak about his soul and he battles this notion on a daily basis. I know I am a paladin, and the rakshasha and his demon had to have lied. I know I am a paladin – the Silver Flame must be testing me and my faith and as always, I serve at the pleasure of the Silver Flame. I do not have the grace of the Silver Flame, but am I incorrect in saying that a paladin is more than the sum of his abilities? With the exception of these losses, I feel the same as I have always felt...and yet I feel empty inside.

The Archierophant has asked me to retrieve the remains of a long forgotten and long past hero of the Flame called Jalus Baine. I am going on this holy quest, and maybe this is what the Silver Flame requires of me to regain grace.

Please contact me as soon as you can. If you have any information that may help, and I hope you do, I look forward to hearing it.

With great love and devotion,
Gareth Byron Deneith
Paladin and Exorcist of the Silver Flame

Coincidentally, and ironically, Six is also arranging the delivery of a message at the same time. In his case, it consists of the sculpture of Little Plains and a note, both of them addressed to Saidan Boromar. The note says:

“Although we were not able to come to an agreement, the dinner was excellent. My friend may be in opposition to certain positions of yours, but it was boorish to bring it up at the dinner table. Please accept my apologies. Six.”

By the time Gareth rejoins them, all of the others are ready to depart. He too makes his preparations and rests, until there is a knock on the door two hours later. Outside stands Deemin, with a broad grin on his face. “All ready to go? Excellent! This should be fairly educational for you. I know you’ve been in the Depths for a short time earlier, but you really need to spend a few hours there to really get a sense of them.”

* * * * * *
Five hours later, the group stands in the crumbling remains of what may have been a hall when Sharn was the Dhakaani city Ja’shaarat (“Bright Blade”) thousands of years ago. Each and every one of them is badly scorched, a couple barely remaining on their feet as they reach hurriedly for healing wands.

Nameless looks at the stone wall beside him and says, “I think it’s gone.”

“Hope so!” says Korm, beginning to heal himself, and Luna – back in her favorite bear shape – growls her agreement.

Six flexes his fingers experimentally and grimaces. “Its touch made me sluggish.”

“Yes,” says Gareth. “You’ll need a restoration, since the lesser variety won’t do. But I can only cast one tomorrow.” He looks across at Deemin, who is leaning against a wall with a scorched and ashen face. “So this is your idea of educational?”

Their guide smiles even through the pain and irritation of having been damaged as Six was, and says, “Well – you did say you’ve already seen a number of things you haven’t seen before.”

Six silently thinks of what they have seen…

…the giant iron door, warded with enchantments, one of the many that was designed to seal off the Depths when Sharn was rebuilt by Galifar I a thousand years ago.

…the goblinoid ruins and the ruins of earlier versions of Sharn, with only darkness and sometimes the flame of lava pools remaining where thousands had once lived.

…the sight of Nameless rising toward the sound of a slithering in the darkness above, only to be engulfed by thousands of pounds of green protoplasm as the met the arcane ooze going the other way.

…Gareth, being battered and squeezed almost to death by the ooze after Nameless managed to dimension door away, having Korm somehow touch and englobe him in a rejuvenation cocoon while he was actually still inside the ooze.

…the feeling of terror as the two cow-sized rust monsters* rushed him, the sight of Gareth’s shield instantly rusting to pieces, and the humor (though it only seemed funny later) of him, Gareth and Korm turning and fleeing as fast as they could, while Luna and Nameless dealt with the creatures via spell and claw.

…the soundless appearance of the two forgewraiths, their incorporeal gray figures outlined in fire, as they emerged from the stone walls of the hall.

…the combination of fireball and wall of fire that they used to wound the adventurers, and the irritation of fighting creatures that many blows and spells simply passed through.

…the weakening sensation, as their touch drained him and Deemin of their speed and agility, while strengthening the forgewraiths.

…the momentary surprise evident on the mostly expressionless visage of one of the creatures as it hid, wounded, in a wall, only to have Nameless stone shape a window for them to attack it through.

…the soft inrush of air as one forgewraith finally died under their attacks, and the discovery that it left behind a black opal worth thousands of galifars.

“True,” he says, “But after all that excitement, I think you people will need to rest now.” Especially so that Gareth can pray for a Restoration for me.

Everybody agrees that they should find a safe place to hole up and prepare themselves for finally meeting the tree of woe and discovering what the cryptic divinations really meant. After some searching, they find a cavelike area with only a single entrance and settle down there, using the staff of survival to create a slightly more comfortable, and most importantly, significantly less detectable, shelter.


* Rust monsters are a bigger deal for warforged IMC since they do Con dmg like a poison spell.

 

[Vorput]

Cool... sounds like a fun battle.

Ah, the morally indignant crimelords- they're the best kind!

Vorp

Edit: What's a forgewraith? Ebberon specific?

 

[Rackhir]

Cool... sounds like a fun battle.

Ah, the morally indignant crimelords- they're the best kind!

Vorp

Edit: What's a forgewraith? Ebberon specific?

Towards the bottom

Forgewraith

 

[Kafkonia]

Am I the only one who's anxiously waiting for Six to clock Gareth next time he spouts off?

I'd make a snarky comment about paladins, but of course, he never was one...

 

[shilsen]

Cool... sounds like a fun battle.

For me, yes

Ah, the morally indignant crimelords- they're the best kind!

Heh! Saidan was actually just upset that they - well, Gareth - insulted him at his dinner table. Halflings are big on hospitality. And on riding dinosaurs and taking your head off with a boomerang at 20 paces, which I'm sure my PCs will discover shortly.

Am I the only one who's anxiously waiting for Six to clock Gareth next time he spouts off?

Poor Gareth. He just don't get no respect

Between last session and this one (we're playing at noon today), Six has found an extra ally whom I think you'll find quite amusing.

I'd make a snarky comment about paladins, but of course, he never was one...

Ooh, a hit, a palpable hit! I have to say that the never-was-a-paladin thing has worked out as a very easy zinger to use on Gareth ever since the fight at the volcano. That's one he has a hard time arguing down.

And, without further ado, welcome to the Tree of Woe....


* * * * * *

The night passes uneventfully, except for Luna and Six detecting a distant glow and the sounds of movement in the distance during their watch. After persuading Luna that rushing out there and dropping a flame strike on whoever it is isn’t the most expedient approach, Six slips out cautiously to investigate.

He sees a flickering glow, like that given off by one or more torches, from around a corner far off to his right. By the time he moves up there quietly, the lights have moved along, and he doesn’t think it worthwhile to follow. Six rejoins Luna and the night passes with no more disturbances.

In the morning, or what is morning for those parts of Sharn not currently deep underground, the group rises, makes its preparations and leaves. Gareth uses a restoration to heal Six, but since he can only prepare one daily, a gloomy Deemin has to continue to suffer the damage inflicted by the forgewraiths.

When they are leaving, Six stops to examine the area he saw the lights in, and finds the marks of about six pairs of booted feet. Deemin mentions that there are others in Sharn who might have reasons for passing through the Depths. Daask, for example, evidently knows of some areas of the Depths, which its members use to travel more quickly between Khyber’s Gate in the Cogs and the surface of Sharn, instead of taking the long way through either Ashblack or Blackbones and up the standard access shafts.

The group heads onwards, and after about half an hour, Deemin stops at a large opening and says that they are about to enter an area he knows nothing about. Ythana Morr said she believes they should find Jalus Baine’s remains somewhere here, but the plans she showed him stretch over a square mile. So they will have to search around randomly and hope they get lucky.

The Angels proceed into the area and through it, searching for the ‘tree of woe’ and Jalus Baine. The area they have now entered is in especially decrepit condition, many parts of it seeming much more like natural caves than the remnants of earlier buildings, this appearance given the lie only by the odd remnants of a goblinoid statue or the sudden appearance of a couple of carved steps. The search takes the better part of an hour, and it is Nameless who first notices something unusual. Looking back over the area the group has passed, he sees the faint gleam of green light off to the side.

Investigation reveals that there is a fold in the stone, creating a wide opening running parallel to and bending into the wall, but only visible from one side. The opening extends fifteen feet before turning to the right, and it is this point that the light emanates from. Nameless permanent arcane sight immediately identifies the glow as possessing a strong necromantic aura. The Angels promptly begin to cast protective spells, but Six suggests they wait until he ascertains what the glow comes from. The big warforged moves into and through the long opening, moving much more silently than his size and material would indicate, and carefully looks around the corner.

Six gazes into an absolutely gigantic chamber, its walls extending beyond the reach of the darkvision bestowed by the symbiont circling his head. The ceiling, showing no signs of artificial creation, is a good sixty feet above his head, supported at wide intervals by huge natural stone pillars. The chamber is lit by the green light, the source of which stands approximately five hundred feet away. It looks like a fifty foot tall tree, its large branches bare of leaves, its gnarled bark gleaming starkly black in the glow that emanates from it. Next to it stands or partly kneels a human-sized figure in armor, but it is difficult for Six to say, since the figure is waist deep in some substance.

And not just the figure. As far as Six can see, the floor of the chamber is covered in what looks like ash. Six reaches down and picks up a handful. The fine gray powder trickles between his fingers, and to his surprise, some of it hangs momentarily in the air as it falls, forming arcane symbols like those he has seen Nameless study when preparing his spells. After a second, the symbols fall apart into ash again. Six produces his extensible pole and prods the ash in places, causing puffs of it to erupt, and on a couple of occasions, such symbols again appear.

Unsure what it means, Six takes a piled handful of ash and walks back to the others, to explain what he saw. After having done so, he drops some of the ash, causing two more symbols to appear. With a glance, Nameless identifies them as ones commonly used to identify the mage armor and stinking cloud spells. He finds that the ash detects faintly of conjuration, with two distinct auras, but only in spots. Six pockets what remains of the ash for later study, and the group prepares itself to enter, casting a plethora of protective spells.

Watching them do so, Deemin says, “You know – I think I’ll feel a lot happier staying out of your way while you investigate. I think I’ll wait over there.” He waves back the way they came. “Maybe past a couple of turns over there.”

“That’s a good idea,” says Nameless. “Try not to be eaten by anything.”

Deemin gives him a weak grin and walks away. After he is gone and their preparations are done, the Angels proceed into the chamber. Stopping at the entrance, Nameless looks around. His arcane sight reveals scores of spots in the ash with faint magical auras. Curiously, each spot has exactly six faint auras – three conjurations, two evocations and one necromantic. A little prodding by Six in one such spot causes a number of symbols to spiral up, and after checking another two, Nameless is certain that it is the same six symbols, which represent the spells mage armor, magic missile, obscuring mist, scorching ray, stinking cloud and vampiric touch. Interestingly, the symbols are not magical themselves.

Not wanting to touch the ash, Nameless uses his overland flight to fly a good thirty feet over it, and Korm grows a fair of large hawk-wings to do the same. The others have to wade through the ash, which they find to be nearly three feet deep. While it is too light to create any kind of impediment, the inability to see the rocky ground underneath, as well as the constant cloud (often bearing the arcane symbols) that is kicked up by their passage, does slow them down.

As they advance, the rest of the Angels note that the air is extremely dry, bearing a faint smell of putrefaction, neither of which Six – with his limited senses of smell and touch – had noticed. They also note that the tree resembles an oak, albeit a leafless one. It has only five large branches, all twisted and roughly pointing upwards, causing it to resemble nothing so much as a gnarled, clawed hand reaching out of the ash. There is a single thinner, smaller branch growing out at a diagonal from the blackened bark a couple of feet above the ash, which is what the figure next to it is holding onto, with both hands above his head, elbows bent as if he was pulling or pushing on it. As they near him, they can see that his armor clearly bears symbols of the Silver Flame, implying that he is Jalus Baine. There is, however, no signs of a weapon.

Once they are within sixty feet, Nameless detects a strong necromantic aura from the tree, along with faint and moderate evocation, while the man’s armor radiates strong abjuration magic. The branch he is holding onto detects of moderate conjuration and evocation. Nameless also notices, as do his companions, that the sickly green glow is concentrated in a few spots. In half a dozen places, small fruits resembling dried prunes hang upon the branches. As they approach, one of the fruits suddenly falls off. As it descends, the fruit begins to fall apart into ash, and in the space of a second, dissolves into nothingness a few inches before it hits the ash on the ground. The ash it dissolves into drifts onto the layers of it already surrounding the twenty foot wide base of the tree. Instantly, another fruit begins to blossom in the previous one’s place, growing quickly to the same size.

“Okay,” says Korm, peering suspiciously at the tree, “I think we found your dead hero, and we found the tree and its fruits. So how do we go about doing what that divination said about making the fruits bloom and withering it for ever?”

“I don’t know,” says Nameless, “And frankly, I think we should just grab the body, stuff it in the portable hole and leave.”

“Good idea,” says Six, walking below him. He moves closer to the tree, and when he is about thirty feet away, a strange sensation of distaste and disgust overtakes him, so strong that it momentarily nauseates him (an especially unusual feeling since the warforged actually lacks any internal organs to be nauseated with). Gareth and Luna encounter the same, the former recognizing it as the same feeling he gets when detecting a particularly virulent evil. Luckily, the feeling quickly passes.

Luna growls at the sensation and then walks over to the armored figure. She sniffs it, finding no scent, and lifts her paw to flip back the visor, but Gareth frowns and smacks at her arm. “Don’t desecrate the dead.”

Six says what Luna’s irritated gesture says. “We just want to check what state he’s in.”

“There’s no need,” says Gareth. “Help me put the body in the portable hole.”

Six shrugs and tries to create a space to put down and open the hole, but the ash continues to pour back into the space and into the magical opening. He then goes over and tries to lift the figure, only to discover that its hands are locked tightly around the branch. Luna comes over to try and pull it off. As she wraps her forelegs around it and pulls, the branch extends a few inches, with an odd sucking sound, and then stops.

“Don’t break the fingers!” says Gareth, alarmed.

“Fine!” says Six, freeing his chain. “I’ll just take the branch off.” He swings, and even though his adamantine chain is ill-suited to the task, the warforged assumes that his strength and its nature will snap the branch like a twig. Instead, the chain just strips inches of bark off the branch, which vibrates but doesn’t break. Surprised, Luna reaches up with a paw and strikes at the branch, but again, it does not break.

Instead, a number of things occur simultaneously. There is the sound of a soft groan – from within the tree, which quivers in response to Luna’s blow as if it had a number of giants shaking it. As it shakes, all of the fruits fall off the blackened branches. As before, they begin to turn to ash as they fall.

Unsure what is going on, Luna reflexively throws her bulk forward, catching one in a paw and letting two more land on her, though all three are ash moments afterwards. Two of the remaining three fruits, beginning their fall closer to the ground due to the shaking of the tree, hit the ash before they are completely dissolved.

Instantly, there is a sound around the entire chamber like the in-drawing of a huge breath, which is instantly replaced by the sound of a blowing wind, beginning all around the chamber and moving inwards. A loud rustling accompanies it, as the ash is blown into the air, or so the Angels assume, since they cannot see it. What they can see is that the bark of the tree is beginning to change texture, becoming seemingly less physical but still remaining darkly opaque, as if it were changing to solid shadow, while its sickly green gleam fades as rapidly. Perhaps most alarmingly, two voices are clearly heard, each in a voice that is cracked and dry, as if parched, intoning the words of what everyone except Six recognizes as clerical spells.

“Looks like we have company!” says Korm, flapping his wings and rising higher, while casting a protective spell. The others follow suit and take up defensive positions. Within seconds, the tree behind them is almost all shadow, the green light that emanated from it previously having shrunk and gone. Luckily, all of the Angels can either see naturally in the darkness or have magical aid allowing them to do so. So they see not only the tree but also the shapes within its exterior, dimly visible through the shadows that it now consists of. They are two human-sized figures, evidently the source of the spellcasting the Angels hear, now occurring in strong and clear tones, both of them standing upon a long, thick cubical structure.

The attention of the adventurers, however, is drawn outwards, where they can not just hear the onrushing wind, but see its effects too, as a wall of ash, blown up to the ceiling, advances towards them. Korm and Nameless, flying high above the ground, think for a moment that they can see movement and figures in the advancing wall, but they have no time to decide or communicate it, before the advancing walls envelop them, meeting in the center where the tree stands.

Or stood, as the Angels see a second later, as the ash disappears into nothingness, leaving the cavern floor bare. The now shadow-tree is gone with it, clearly revealing the two figures within and the structure that supports them. It is a stone altar, carved of some dark gray stone, with holy symbols running around its sides. Or unholy symbols, as Gareth and Nameless realize, since there are two that recur constantly. One is the curved fang-dagger of the Keeper, deity of death and decay, while the other is the blood-smeared bone-blades of the Mockery, lord of treachery and betrayal.

One such similar symbol is worn by each of the figures. The symbol of the Mockery hangs upon the broad but desiccated chest of the first figure, its withered and undead skin, as well as the slavering fangs marking it as a ghoul. The dark flames that wreathe its clenched fists, however, are something new. Beside it stands – or rather floats – the figure wearing the Keeper’s symbol, a spectral form that bestows a ghostly grin upon the Angels.

Beside them is the remnants of the ‘branch’ the dead man was holding, its bark dissipated with the rest of the tree to reveal what was within. It is a longspear, its point embedded deeply within a large crack that splits the altar. Around the split is a large, amorphous black shape, as if something had somehow been burned into the stone of the altar.

Though they instantly note these singular sights, the Angels are significantly more focused on what the ash revealed in its disappearance, or rather, what it was transmuted into. In every open space around, before, behind and between them stands an identical figure. They are roughly humanoid, but with mottled and decaying flesh drawn tight over their bones. Their eyes glow red with unholy hunger, and sharp teeth gleam between fleshless lips. As far as their darkvision extends, and evidently far beyond, all around the Angels stand thousands of ghouls.

After centuries of waiting, the fruits of the tree of woe have finally come to bloom.

* * * * * *

Note: Yes, I dropped 5000 ghouls on the party. And it's all Rackhir's fault, since he said a couple sessions ago (when we were discussing the party's increased firepower), "You really need to let us take on an army sometime." Being the kindly, gentle and gracious DM that I am, I hurried home to find a way to fulfil his desire.

And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.