Mythosan Adventures

[Puppy Kicker]

Rummaging through old game notes and stories I found this one. Lots of game notes, a few story notes, and one of the most fun games we ever had. So, to keep my writing skills busy, I'm typing it up as a story hour. Hope you enjoy.

The game: The game started as Rolemaster, then transformed into D20 3.0 when those rules came out. Pretty standard fantasy fare.

The setting: Mythosa is a fantasy world created by Bruce Gulke. More information can be found about it at the following link: World of Mythosa

It's a well done fantasy world with countless adventure grains. It should be noted, for those who are more famliar with the setting, that this adventure was created back when Mythosa was young, and the world has changed a bit since then. Some of the geography doesn't work with the latest maps and the Sylvari don't exist as a playable race in the current incarnation.

The characters: The players rolled up characters and gave me an idea of where they wanted to go with them. I then wrote up a quick background to introduce them (which I am presenting as the first few posts).

For an easy and quick reference while reading, a character summary follows:

Algrel: A fire mage from the desert city of Shesada.

Elxtum: A Sylvari Ka'alan with a minor case of demonic possession.

Helevent: A human mercenary with an overly powerful sword and the occasional attack of amnesia.

Juni: Your typical gorgeous bard. She lost her husband, and is a little bitter over that.

Turiek: A stormspawn, kind of a cross between a monk and an electrical outlet. He was created, not born.

 

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Algrel Yenetri Julgrel

Varghani Fire Mage

Twenty-two years ago I was born to Jurvarop and Leselina Julgrel, wealthy traders of the city-state of Shesada. I've led a good life thus far. All my needs have been cared for and I've never wanted for things to do. My parents provided me with all the goods I needed and even payed for my tuition in the Shesada Etherea when my magical talents began to surface. Unfortunately, my father was always too busy to spend time with me and my mother seemed to care more for her social gatherings than her own flesh and blood. Many times I have wished for a brother, or even a close friend, though I admit that my aloof attitude tends to keep others at a distance. My parents had another son, I think I was three at the time, but he died at an early age. My parents never showed any interest in children after that, apparantly deciding after losing their second that one was enough. But I complain where I should be singing praise. I live in Shesada, the grandest city in all of Mythosa!

Shesada is an exciting city, full of interesting people from far away lands. Although Oasys sees most of the direct trade from far away Ksa, we are the next tier, getting marvelous goods from the distant West well before other nations have even dreamed their existance. Though I've never met a Ksaian myself, I've met many people who have. I've been well educated by most standards. The Shesada Etherea is one of the finest magic schools in the west, but the faculty here also emphasises other aspects of knowledge besides just sorcery. I'm fluent in both my native tongue of Varghani and the language of the southern and eastern nations, Marrish. I can make simple conversation in both Sylvari and Orchazi (though I hope I never have the opportunity to meet a native Orchazi speaker!) I've always been hungry for knowledge, and anything magical will draw my attention like a moth to a projected light spell. I have been called by my superiors a fair man, and I'm often nabbed by my Etherea brothers to settle disputes between them. I tend to get upset when I feel someone is not being treated fairly and I will do my best to set things right. BUT!!! Don't get me started about the street vermin littering the alleys of our fair city! I believe everyone should be treated fairly, that they should all be given an opportunity, but I don't believe people should not have to work for their goals. I've never given money to a begger and I never will. If they want money they should work for it.

Now that you know a spattering of what I'm like and how my life has been, let me tell you of the events of the past couple of weeks. Reelaree, my instructor in the Fire Art, called me into his meeting chamber two weeks ago. I was nervous, of course. Reelaree is a fair man, but very strict. I have learned well from him, but I have also been punished by him for errors like no other. But, as I was to find out, I had nothing to worry about. I left that chamber in high spirits and full of pride. My teacher had informed me that the school's Masters were impressed with my progress and felt I would soon be prepared to test for membership as an Etherea Minora. He gave me a staff that had been purchased in the Agori (the Shesadan marketplace for you non-denizens) and he wanted me to analyze its magical abilities. Over the past couple of weeks I've been studying it, purusing the runes that line its length and testing various incantations I've diciphered. Twice I have had success, startling and little damaging, but exciting nevertheless. I've found that by chanting "Shisovo Nervent, Shisovo Lerestin, Shisovo Varghani" three times while waving the staff in a circle before me I can conjure a great wall of water. I've managed to do this consistently now, but the staff seems to lose its power after two castings in the same day. Another interesting trait of this staff is that by holding it as a warrior holds a spear and proclaiming the phrase "Varghani Shisovo Elento Heredo," a bolt of water will shoot from the end with great destructive force. I inadvertanlty injured a fellow classmate when I first discovered this, but he is doing much better now and the healers say he should be able to walk by himself by the end of the month. Unfortunately, the staff seems to only be able to use this wonderous power once in a given day. I've yet to decipher the rest of the runes as they are in an ancient dialect of Varghani and the books in the Etherea and my own knowledge have been all but exhausted. I have noticed that while carrying the staff I can cast more spells before my energy is exhausted, though no writtings have explained this. I've a feeling the fun is over now, though, and that a new life is ahead of me. Reelaree has called me to his chamber again, and from the look on his face something is wrong...

 

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Elxtum Tara'axor

Sylvari Ka'alan

I have spent my life serving the Overseer of Lor Elesna, training as one of the elite Ka'alan and later serving in that capacity. Life has changed now. I have become a different man, unable to perform the duties assigned to me with the reliability necessary for those who are charged to protect the Overseer's life at all costs. Now I must seek a cure; and perhaps redemption for what I was forced to do. I will tell you of this now, that you may know why and how I have been so dishonored.

I grew up as any other young Sylvari in our grand city, learning reading and writing and religion. When I was old enough to learn the combat arts I was sent to the Academy with my peers where my potential in combat was discovered. I was soon training with the Ka'alan masters, along with no less than thirty others. By the end of the first year there were nine of us left. Five by the next and only two the next. Enend and I became fast friends in that final year, the only two that had managed to prove our worth and bear the great hardship that was Ka'alan training. This last year was also when the headaches first began occuring, but I thought nothing of them. Surely one can be forgiven a few aches under the stress I was experiencing I thought, so why worry. At the end of the fourth year Enend and I were given our cloaks and blades, and the silvered bracers that are the mark of the Ka'alan. We were then apprentice Ka'alan, on the path to the most noble profession any Sylvari could ever dream. After this point we went our seperate ways, each being trained in a more specialized field. Elesna was trained in the magical arts of healing and protection; my skills lay elsewhere. All my life I have been more perceptive than most around me, seeming to notice the smallest details in any situation. The Ka'alan masters took advantage of this trait and I was trained as a scout, scouring the area ahead of the Overseer's troupe with a more senior member. It was on one of these scouting expeditions that my disgrace occured.

A meeting in Damaristan of many of the Realm's most important individuals brought the Overseer to that land, and I was acting as a scout during this trek. It was the first time I had been far from Lor Elesna and it was a most exciting time. Seeing the mannish city of Damaristan was most thrilling, so different than my own home city. The meeting lasted almost a week, at which time the Ka'alan were on shifts. When I was not on guard I was spending time with Enend and a few others. We spent much time wandering those streets, chatting with the populace, and doing our best to avoid trouble. My headaches, which I had been unaflicted with for nearly a year, returned with vigor this week and were at an incredibly painful state by the time we left the city. I remember the moment before my mind went, nodding as the Ka'alan scout that was training me at the time knelt to point out a track he had noticed...

...and Enend was punching me with chainmail covered fists. Two others were trying to grab my arms. My Sylvari blade lay on the ground several feet away, next to the blood soaked body of the scout that had been showing me the track. His body was hacked to shreds, an arm lying several feet from the bloody stump it had been attached to. I tasted blood in my mouth, whether my own or his I could not tell. Enend stopped pummeling me then, looking at me sadly. "I feared this, my friend. Though none of us thought it would occur in this way. I am sorry." With this my friend stood, turned his back to me and walked away. The other two Ka'alan led me away, far from the travelling party. I was told to stay there and they departed. I passed the night there, wrapped in my cloak but still shivering. It was not from the cold.

Early the next morning I was awoken be the gentle shaking of Enend. He was accompanied by three others, two senior Ka'alan and the Overseer himself. I was told that I was forgiven my sin by the Overseer, but that I was never to return to the Lorsae until my soul had been purged of this evil. My Ka'alan bracers were taken, to be returned were I to regain my purity. The four left then, only Enend turning to look sadly in my direction before they entered the shadows of the forest. I look to the south and west now. In the far away city of Ilmara dwells the Priestesses of Alyara. If any can cure this malady, this... possession, it is they. That is my only hope, so with a weighted heart I now head west...

 

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Helevent Rophen

Hassitic Mercenary

I suppose you could say I've had an interesting life. I grew up in Lawdess, a fairly small mining town near the base of the Varghani mountains. My father was a miner, my mother, Viera, a whore. It was a dangerous area. I grew up with a sword never more than a few feet from me, always prepared for an Orchazi raid. When I wasn't fighting those beasts I was fighting my father. He would drink, he would hit. I still have occasional memory loss from a beating I received as a child. That's why I left Lawdess at the age of 16... my father killed Viera, and I killed him. I can't go into that, and I doubt you would care to hear. Suffice to say I left that town and have never returned, nor will I ever. I admit I was lost, no family, no job. When I finally found my way to Damaristan, the only city I'd heard of at that time, I began looking for work.

I cleaned tables, tried my hand at cooking even, but it was only near the end of my 17th autumn, that I found my true calling. By that time I was becoming quite large, as my father (curse his soul) had been. I was working at the Redfaced Harlot then, doing any labor the crotchety old owner could throw my way. It was a busy night in the fall, the mines and passes were being shut down as winter approached and the miners and soldiers were beginning their yearly hibernation in the taverns. As I was wiping down some tables a fight broke out between two soldiers of rival mercanary companies. Comaradarie and drunkenness being the forces that they are the entire tavern was soon in a general brawl. Brawls I had been in, but this one looked to turn deadly as swords were drawn and waved menacingly. Within seconds there was blood on the floor and two grizzled soldiers were waving wicked blades in my direction. I looked desperately for a weapon, and found nothing but a broom lying on the floor. Odds? Well, I survived, and I beat the sons of bitches to the ground to the astonished stares of a few of their comrades. By the time the brawl had been settled down and the sorely injured bodies of several mercenaries pulled out I was exhausted and sore, but in much better shape than the odds would have reckoned. The next morning I was approached by Jenz, a sergent in the Red Hammer mercenary company. After a brief talk, in which we discussed my previous combat experience during Orchazi raids and my financial situation, I was a proud and paid member of the Red Hammer Company. I trained all winter under many a weaponsman, learning to fight with sword, dagger, and crossbow, and fought my first battle in the spring. The mercenary life is hard, and sometimes I find myself questioning the morality of what I'm sometimes forced to do. Perhaps someday I will find another calling, but for now... well, killing is my business, and business is good.

The situation I find myself in most recently is difficult, for I do not know that I can justify what we have been ordered to do. The Red Hammer has been commissioned to ambush a group travelling from Damaristan to Ilmara. A military group I assumed, as did most of my compatriots. But upon the return of a scouting party rumor began to circulate that it was not a fighting force, but a group of priestesses. Fighting women they are not, for they are devoted to the goddess of healing and love, so the the rumors claim. The mumblings have been circulating all night and as morning approaches the beginnings of the next scout party are forming. I will volunteer for this one, to deny these atrocious rumors once and for all. I know for certain we would not be ordered to commit such a vile act, and I feel it is my duty to verify this for myself that I may set the truth to light amongst my fellow soldiers. We head out in an hour. May my heart be right and my ears misinformed...

 

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Juni Ber Lar'Sheni

Dhazyran Bard

Where to begin... so much has happened in my short life thus far. My mother was a Dhazyran nomad, my father a Damaristani mercenary (I think.) I spent my younger years wandering Mythosa with the rest of my tribe, performing for villages of bored peasants and cities of repugnant nobles. It was only a few years after my birth that my mother wed, a young Dhazyran from another tribe. He came into our tribe and embraced me as his own daughter. He even gave me his lute and taught me to play. Playing a certain tune this lute is able to detect the presence of magic in the area. Although he and my mother had three children of their own, I think I was always his favorite. At an early age I learned of the power my mother's beauty had confered upon me, and used it to make our lives better. I learned to play the lute and to perform with my tribe. I had seen 17 summers and most of the western lands when an elderly nobleman in the city of Zeldora deemed me fit to be his newest wife. I had little interest in wasting away the rest of my life as the slave-wench to a pudgy old noble, and I told him as much. I did not put it to him in such kindly words. By the end of that day I had come to regret my harsh words. My tribe was labeled as a cult of Tehmorix, our entertainments nothing but a cover to allow us to infest the city with plague. Many doubted the nobleman's words but many more believed, and took to arms. As we fled I watched my own mother cut down by a scythe wielding peasant and my younger brother fall to an arrow in the back. My adopted father and siblings disappeared in the fray but I am sadly sure they did not survive that evil night. I fled Zeldora and found myself wandering, no purpose in my mind and no coins in my purse. I began to play at roadside taverns, using my sultry charms to make many a coin and many a jealous wife. But I was a woman with no future and no purpose.

I met Gunta Nev Lar'Sheni in a tavern several days north of Ilmara. He was charming, suave, and understanding. He gave me a purpose in life and a best friend. Gunta was also of Dhazyran descent, but had wandered from his tribe in search of adventure and had not seen them in years. We made a pilgrimage to one of their frequent stopping points and married in classic Dhazyra fashion. I have never been so happy as I was in the two years of our marriage, and I doubt I will ever feel that way again. I learned many things from Gunta, not the least of which was the use of magic to enhance my performances. We wandered the lands, performing as I had with my family and enjoying the freedom and our love. I doubt I will ever forget the hatred I feel for this city now that it has taken him from me. But I digress. 'This city' is Shesada. Let me tell you of it.

I had told Gunta that it had always been an interest of mine to see the fabled desert nations. Oasys and Shesada were like fables I had heard of since birth but I'd never dared to brave the Varghani desert to reach them. Gunta was quite receptive, even mentioning that he had a close friend that lived in Shesada and was a respected member of the Shesada Etherea. A mage of no little renown it seemed. Within a week we were part of a caravan bound for mythical Shesada. The days were blistering, the nights full of music and dance. It was a hard two weeks of slow moving, but when I saw the gates of Shesada my heart jumped. I was in awe. We spent that evening in an expensive inn in the merchant's quarter. The next day I wandered the Agori, looking at exotic merchandise from as far away as the nation of Ksa and homemade mystical trinkets made by Etherea members. As I shopped, Gunta attended a meeting with his friend at the Etherea. We met again that evening at the inn and I noticed that Gunta seemed troubled. Queries, however, just resulted in smiles and head shakes. I was interupted from further questioning by the innkeeper. He had apparantly heard that we were performers and offered us free room and meals if we would entertain the crowd. The rest of the evening was spent in the common room, singing and telling tales to the inn patrons. When I finally stumbled into our room, exhausted and more than a little tipsy, I let loose a yelp of surprise as I noticed a shadowy figure standing by the bed. Gunta burst in, only to relax as he recognized the man. He introduced me to his friend, Reelaree. They began to talk in earnest as I relaxed on the bed, trying to let the dizziness of the drink and crowds leave my head. I did not follow the conversation particularly well, but it seemed that Reelaree was worried about something at the Etherea, and was asking Gunta for aid. Something about finding a student that the mage had sent off earlier that day. At this point I began to feel the tingling sensation I've come to associate with danger. It was strong, stronger than that wicked night years ago in Zeldora. But now I new what it meant. I began pawing at Gunta, trying to draw his attention, to warn him that something was wrong. He was wrapped up in what Reelaree was saying, something of a betrayal at the Etherea, when the door burst inward in a wave of heat and noise! Two dark clad men charged in, waving what appeared to be small crossbows. Reelaree was on his feet, his hands waving intricate patterns in the air. At the same time Gunta was leaping towards his sheathed sword on the floor. My dagger was in my hand as I leapt at one of the shadows. The other figure planted a crossbow bolt in Reelaree's chest. The wizard fell, the fire forming at his fingertips arcing wildly around the room, igniting the curtains and part of the ceiling. Gunta thrust his blade into the chest of the murderer as I slashed open the cheek of the other. The wounded man fled, but we could hear more footfalls in the hall. Fearing it was more men coming to finish the job we grabbed our packs and hurled ourselves out the windows, brushing at the fragments of flaming curtain clinging to us. Gunta was clutching a rolled up piece of paper he had grabbed from his dead friend's body as we ran. To the stables. We found our horses and quickly mounted, as another shadowy figure leapt into the building and flung a torch onto the ground. We raced our horses from the newly formed inferno and fled into the night. As we escaped I turned, giving a reassuring smile to my lover, only to hear the thump of a crossbow bolt. Gunta slumped forward, eyes bulging. He collapsed from his horse, landing headfirst on the ground. I leapt from my mount and ran to my husband. Gunta held the scroll he had grabbed out to me and told me to 'find Algrel...in the tomb... this is my wish. My love...' There, in the alleys of beautiful Shesada, my husband died. The scroll was in my pouch, my bow was in my hand, and fires of vengence were in my eyes. Five shadows were rushing towards us, two had fallen by the time I mounted my horse and fled into the night.

Now I stand outside the city. I know I cannot return to Shesada for some time. I recognized the sign on one of the dark men's necklace. The sign of the newly risen Dark God. They will hunt me if I return, they will hunt me regardless. For now, I will seek this 'Algrel' and perhaps some answers. But someday, vengence will be mine...

 

[Puppy Kicker]

Tureik

Stormspawn

I am far from a normal man, more created than born. My mind was taken from a peasant child, my body created in the Al'Sharaq Stormvats. The melding of the two is a process created by the priests of this vile city many years ago, though it is far from perfected at this time. I've seen my fellow Stormspawn, minds destroyed by the torture and mindwiping of the Priests, become the thoughtless and heartless killing machines we are all supposed to be. Things have been different for me, though I cannot say whether this is for the better. My mind has returned, unwarped in its rebirth due to the protection of a certain rogue Priest, Ezger. He was not a good man, not by any stretch of my young imagination, but his curiousity protected me nonetheless, and for this I must give him my thanks. And I must mourn his loss, though it is perhaps best for the world.

I am told that I was put throught the same training as the others, using my body as a weapon, my magic as artillery. I cannot remember this, but the skills are there, so I've no reason to doubt Ezger's words on the matter. My command of the combat arts have served me well since my escape, and the power of the storm cannot be questioned. But I can feel the tingle of magic not my own when it is around, and the pain when it is too close. I know that I was created by magic, and I know that I will be destroyed by the same. But my powers are not the subject, my past is.

When my thoughts began to resurface, something that happens to all Stormspawn shortly after the mind and body are melded, I was taken to the mindwipe area with others that were "resurfacing" to be erased. By chance I was chosen by Ezger for an experiment, something about using our resurfacing thoughts to enhance our warring abilites, instead of simply erasing the errant thoughts. He protected me from the erasing process and even taught me such things as reading and a bit of the geography while my mind was attempting to catch hold. He kept me hidden at all times, for this experiment was not sanctioned by the Priesthood, and I spent the next several weeks hidden from the destructive influence of the Stormspawn training. During this time I first began to hear the voices, voices from a childhood I had never experienced but that my spirit had. As time went on I became more capable of distinguishing the "memories" from what I now know as the real voice I heard in my dreams. The voice of a Goddess.

Shortly before my escape these dreams became more real to me, things I remembered upon waking from my meditations. The image of a beautiful woman with skin of alabaster and hair of midnight. She told me that chance had not created me, and that I must serve my purpose. Alas that she did not tell me what it was! I never told Ezger about this, fearful that he might attempt to call upon the power of his own God to stop my dreams. It is now too late, for fate seems to have decided it is time to push me to the said purpose.

Three days ago the Priests discovered my existence, and I fled over the charred bodies of two priests and Ezger. After escaping the twisted halls of the temple, bleeding and bruised but rejuvenated by my first breath of the outside air, I fled to the sorthwest. As I experienced the outside world I began to experience a resurfacing of old memories, memories of a childhood cut short. It is a desert I run in, Vareeni perhaps is its name. The force that draws me I cannot identify, but I do know that I can think of nothing but a small town in this desert, near which I see faces floating. I must seek these faces, thus it is toward this town that I now run...

 

[Puppy Kicker]

Chapter 1

The Lovely Bard, the Haughty Mage

---​

Vesmer 24

He was a young man, with the dark complexion of all Varghani and eyes that seemed to burn with a desire yet undiscovered. The red dundra-hair robes he wore seemed ill suited for the sweltering heat of the Varghani Desert sun, but he had worn them since childhood and was quite accustomed to what others would consider discomfort. These robes, bearing the emblem of the famed Shesada Etherea school of magery, and the polished wooden staff he carried, topped with a luminous blue stone, revealed his calling. Algrel was his name, and he was a Mage of Fire.

Algrel looked suspiciously at his new companion as they passed through the city gates of Shesada. He scowled as he thought of the upcoming journey. Nothing but gutter trash, and I have to travel with him for Ramm only knows how long. Mutere was his name, a slovenly rogue who had stumbled upon a discovery of great importance to the Shesada Etherea.

Algrel had just met the man that morning in his master's meeting chamber. "You must find this tomb, Algrel. No doubt there will be much of use to the Etherea in its ancient depths. Be careful on your journey, as the desert holds many dangers. Mutere will lead you well I am certain, and your Seysad will defend you, but you must always be ready for anything," were his master's parting words. Lead me well indeed. Lead me into a Gods forsaken latrine as likely as not! Still, he was being given his chance to become an Etherea Minora, an actual member of the school! For that he could tolerate the company of an unclassed buffoon such as Mutere. For now he had the desert to worry about, and that was far more dangerous than any dirty beggar could ever be.

He was accompanied as well by Nuvarel, the man who would become his Seysad if he succeeded in becoming accepted as a Minora. He was a quiet man, as the Seysad were generally trained to be, but he seemed a competent guardian. No small chance I will see what battle skills the Etherea weaponsmen have taught him ere this journey is over.

Algrel's musings where interupted by a chattering Mutere. "What a shiny lovely day, no? Bet yer glad to have me 'long. Hehe, I'll get ya there youngster, and I'm sure it'll be worth every penny your uppity school is paying me to bring you there at that, no?" Algrel looked up long enough to scowl at the grimy rogue, and that was the end of friendly conversation.

The journey was slow, and hot. Talking was limited to short words about the direction they were going and when they should stop. Algrel would have it no other way. The men made camp that evening under a rocky outcropping, sheltered from the biting winds that arose during the Varghani nights. "Prob'ly half there yet, but I 'magine we should be there ere Taertagh night reaches us, no?" Algrel responded with a nod. Nuvarel stood watch while the other two slept.

---​

Vesmer 25

"What is tha'? Looks like an 'orseman, no?" Mutere was covering his eyes against the afternoon sun as he looked back towards the west. "Sees us I say, no?" Algrel and Nuvarel responed to his words, looking back as well. A horse and rider could be seen in the background, perhaps a mile away.
The horseman did indeed seem to see them, riding directly towards them as fast as the rocky desert ground would allow. He guided the horse expertly between rocks and ditches, making much better time than the three men on foot could hope for.

"We will wait. Be prepared though, peasant, chances are not poor that this man will be a danger. Seysad, arm yourself," Algrel ordered. Nuvarel's blade was unsheathed before Algrel's first word was completed.

In a few short minutes from when Mutere's wandering eyes had first spotted the distant horseman, he was close enough to see, the riding hood not completely covering the face. 'He' was a she, and a striking one at that. Algrel dropped his guard, she didn't look too dangerous.

"Hail traveller! What is it you need that you chase us down so vigorously?"

She was well dressed, certainly a pleasant change from the gutter trash that Algrel had put up with for nearly two days. The woman looked at Algrel uncertainly, glanced at Mutere and Nuvarel then back at the mage again. "Speak, my lady. We are not your enemies."

She pulled the riding hood back, revealing a long mane of dark hair and beautifully chiseled features. She was somewhat breathless as she spoke. "Your name... what is your name?"

"I am Algrel Yenetri Julgrel, student of the Shesada Etherea. These are my companions, Nuvarel and Mutere." Algrel scowled as he said the rogue's name. "Who, may I ask, are you?"

"My name is Juni. I have been sent to find you, Algrel. We must talk."

They made camp as Juni told Algrel of the death of Reelaree, his mentor. Algrel was shocked and saddened, but it was an explanation as to why Reelaree had seemed so worried at their last meeting. She told him of the deadly night, but not of the death of Gunta, and described the men that attacked. Juni's description of the design worn by one of the shadowy men sent shivers down Algrel's spine. The Dark God? Why would his minions target the Etherea of all places? Juni gave Algrel the note she had taken from her husband's body. It was a quickly sketched map showing the rough position of the Tomb, and a note to Algrel.

I hope this finds you well, my student. Shesada has become dangerous to the mages of the Etherea, and I wish you to leave. I know not where to send you, but I know that you must be safe. Go first to the Tomb, in my dreams I have seen answers there. I have also seen danger, so be wary my boy. Do not return to Shesada! Your life will be at too great a risk, and your life of all others must preserved. Good luck, and may Ramm protect you on your journey.

Reelaree Feneric Kyleree, Master of Fire​

"Somebody thinks you're a special one I'd say," said Juni, with a sad smile. "I will go with you, if you'll have me. I've nowhere else to go now, and perhaps with you I can find answers I also seek." Her fists clenched and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"You are welcome to come with us. But let us sleep now, for tommorrow we will reach the Tomb."

They all dreamed that night, and the dreams were not pleasant.

 

[Puppy Kicker]

Chapter 2

The Tomb of Varghani-Shisovo

Vesmer 26

The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains to the west when Mutere's voice broke the long day's silence. "'Round here it is. That rock there, the hand it is, no?"

Nearly two hours of searching the area finally produced a dark chasm between two large pillars. A cold, damp breeze wafted from it, a refreshing change from the sweltering Varghani desert heat. "Tha's it, no?"

"No point in waiting, I say. Tie the horse and let's away." Algrel helped Juni tether her horse in a shady spot as the other two cleared rubble from the entrance. Within minutes the companions were welcoming the comforting cool of the cave as they filed in.

A few seconds of chanting and a beam of light sprung from Algrel's outstretched hand, shattering the darkness. The moist walls of the tunnel flickered as the group filed into the underground depths. A strange scent accosted them more strongly the farther they went.

"That stench comes from a pond, no? Farther down."

They continued, distance and time lost in the depths and darkness. After an hour, perhaps two, the tunnel began to widen and the stench became almost unbearable. Algrel's light spell illuminated a stagnant pool of muddy water ahead of them. The walkable ground ended at its edge.

"The water, 's no deep at the edge. I climbed 'round, no?" Mutere carefully stepped into the stench-spewing water, hands clinging to the uneven cavern wall. As he eased forward the others followed, Algrel first to provide illumination. A few dozen feet of trudging through the mud brought them to the edge of the pond, where Juni bent over, gagging from the stench. This side of the cavern opened into another side chamber, a large doorway illuminated by Algrel's spell. A huge bronze door stood on one side, burnt along the opening edge. Its mate lie on the ground at the bottom of a short flight of steps, charred and blackened. Algrel stepped forward to examine the inscription on the door.

"We need more light, my powers wane." Algrel looked to his companions. Juni pulled a small hooded lantern wrapped in cloth from her satchel. A few seconds of work with her flint and it was alight, giving a feeble all-surrounding glow.

"Varghani Shisovo here rests..." Algrel translated. "We appear to have found what we seek." Tentatively the group climbed the stairs, Nuvarel in the lead with broadsword bared. The stench died away as the group crossed the threshold into the Tomb, revealing a somewhat sweet smell as they passed through the doors.

The two lights exposed a high vaulted chamber, supported by intricately carved pillars. A statue and sarcophagus lay against the opposite wall. The cover of the sarcophagus lay on the stone tiled floor. Side passages led to unknown destinations.

Algrel approached the opposite wall in reverence, the final resting place of one of the founding fathers of the Shesada Etherea. He was appalled at the desecration, but in awe nonetheless. The others followed, to a point... Mutere stopped at one of the side passages and peaked in.

"This is Varghani Shisovo," Algrel said, gazing at the statue. "One of the greatest mages ever to exist." The statue stood, right hand held out as though to hold a staff, but empty now. "This belongs here, in reverence to the man that made the Etherea." Algrel held his staff in the air and slid it into the outstretched hand. A perfect fit. "This is where you found it, thief. Correct?" Algrel turned to scowl at Mutere, but the rogue was gone, exploring a side passage.

Nuvarel and Juni stood transfixed by the statue. Algrel stormed towards a side tunnel he saw a light emanating from. "You'll not desecrate this tomb anymore, thief!" As he turned into the tunnel he saw Mutere crouching over a chest, rummaging through it, a torch lying on the floor next to him. "Enough, thief!"

Mutere laughed, "Ah, the dead 'ave no need of it, youngs'er. No?"

Algrel raised his hands, a slight electrical charge building in them. "Stop now. I will tolerate your blasphemy no longer." Algrel's voice was low and dangerous.

Mutere looked up, eyes wide. He grabbed something from the chest and fled, sprinting around the corner just as Algrel's spell was complete. A small charged bolt fizzled in his hands.

As Algrel ran after Mutere he saw the rogue exit the chamber, and saw the other two staring at the statue, not moving. Algrel turned towards them curiously. The statue was glowing, its eyes white fire. Juni shouted back at him "Algrel! Come. What is he saying?"

Algrel stumbled forward. He could hear the words now, an ancient dialect of the Varghani tongue. The statue was speaking to him!

Algrel, son of Jurvarop, son of Geralet, last of the brothers Etherea. The betrayal of my legacy will be avenged! The Shadow destroyed! This mark of power, The Amulet of Eresey, bring to Koj Mokay, sorcerer of the village of Zeldora. The Sacred City bears evil for you young Brother, do not return afore Sonnas Festus. Now go! May the wrath of Ramm power you and the justice of Baltur temper you. Begone!

The glow faded from the statue. Its arms extended with the grating noise of stone on stone, the staff in one stone hand and an obsidian amulet on a leather necklace in the other. Both fell to the ground at Algrel's feet.

"What did he say, mage?" Juni looked at Algrel's astonished face with curiosity.

"He said I am going to Zeldora. Coming?"

 

[Puppy Kicker]

Chapter 3

Attack in the Desert

---​

Vesmer 26

The companions dusted themselves off as they stumbled from the rubble of the cave entrance into the chill night air.

"Fortunate the rapscalion was in a hurry else he may have done a more thorough job of it," Juni said as she gazed back at the caved-in tomb entrance. "Though your temper may have been as much to blame as his thievery, magician."

"Ba! He was nothing but a piece of underclassed garbage of no use to the human race. I treated him no worse than he deserved..." He paused, "It appears you will be on foot this journey, lady Juni." Algrel pointed at the place Juni's mount had been tethered, now an empty spot of ground with nothing but a dung pile to show the horse had ever existed. "Small chance we will catch him, mounted as he is. Halfway to Vykira by now, doubtless."

Algrel kicked a rock in anger before rummaging through his satchel in search of dinner. "Let us camp, and discuss our plans. Zeldora is many miles from here, and we will need provisions soon."

The group made camp at the entrance to the collapsed cave. They discussed their next step while they prepared the camp. They eventually decided that they would aim first for a small town called Welton. Juni had passed through it on her way to Shesada and it had been accomodating enough. It was no more than three or four days march from where they were located, along a major trade route. From there they would attempt to join with one of the frequent caravans that passed through the town and reach the city of Ilmara. A ship ride from there would bring them to Zeldora.

Their course of action charted, they prepared to rest. Juni sang a soft song accompanied by her lute as she took the first watch, and soon the other two were snoring quietly.

---​

Vesmer 29

The journey was uneventful for the next couple of days. They contended with nothing more interesting than the autumn heat. By day three they were running low on water and food, despite the small spring they'd discovered the day before. The sun was setting as the group discussed how much farther it must be, hoping the worn road they had discovered was leading them in the right direction.

"This heat is making me delirious. Soon I will be spouting Orchazi love songs and making amorous gestures towards the stones. We must get there soon." Juni wiped sweat from her brow and pulled her riding hood forward to protect against the hot wind. Her head perked up. "What was that?"

The group stopped, craning their heads in various directions trying to catch another hint of the noise. Soon it came again from the evening shadows far to the East. A long screaching sound, followed by a kind of chittering.

Nuvarel unsheathed his broadsword and squinted into the eastern shadows. Suddenly, an answering shriek came from the opposite direction. Juni's short bow was in hand instantly, an arrow ready. Algrel clutched his staff. "I suppose this noise is not familiar to you, Seysad?"

Nuvarel shook his head. "But I think we can agree, it does not sound friendly." The shrieks continued, growing steadily closer. Within a couple minutes the group was able to make out a dark sillouette in the ever darkening sky, a vaguely man shaped body, at least from the waist up. The bulbous, eight-legged underbody was anything but manlike. A moment later Algrel spotted the other, skittering towards them from the opposite direction. Both were wielding wicked looking spears, waving them threateningly.

"The westerly one I will combat. You two keep the other busy. Mage, whatever tricks you Ethera men keep in your sleeves, 'tis time to pull them out now." Nuvarel switched his broadsword to his left hand as he spoke, pulling a dagger from his bandolier with his now free right.

Juni stepped forward, an arrow knocked. She released twine and an arrow flew true. The eastern man-spider jerked backward, then charged forward with a renewed vigor. Algrel readied himself, the Staff held in a spear-like grip. The beasts rushed forward, using the many rocks of the desert as cover.

Juni let two more arrows speed to their target, but neither gave indication of contact. Then the man-spiders were on them.

Nuvarel's hurled his dagger at the last possible moment before diving away from his opponent's flailing twin spears. The dagger sank into his opponent's skin, but seemed to show little effect. The other monster skidded to a halt as it reached Algrel and Juni. Its right arm hurled forward and the wicked-tipped spear rocketed toward Juni. She attempted to dive away from this unexpected attack, but the jagged edge of the spear shredded a chunk of meat from her left thigh. She staggered as waves of pain and nausea shot through her body. She heard Algrel screaming words in an odd tongue, and watched as the man-spider was hurled backward under the force of a bolt of water. Juni staggered onto her right leg, dagger drawn. Algrel stepped up beside her, staff at the ready as the injured beast charged them yet again.

Nuvarel was circling his opponent now. His leather armor was damaged by several near misses but he'd lost no blood yet. The man-spider was not in such good condition. Nuvarel's dagger was still buried in its side, and one of its spears lay on the ground, dropped by its now useless left arm. It aimed a clumsy stab at the Seysad's chest, which Nuvarel quickly ducked beneath. He rolled forward, the broadsword held forward in a thrusting position. But this was not a man the warrior was fighting, and it had resources no man could bring forth. As Nuvarel lunged forward the monster plunged two barbed legs at him. Nuvarel avoided a mortal injury by inches, dodging one of the spear-sharp legs as it whisked by his eyes. The other was more lucky and impaled the Seysad's side, drawing blood and knocking him to the ground. He groaned as the pain hit him and collapsed, the barbed leg still penetrating his abdomen.

Algrel attempted to call forth magic to his hands as Juni tried desperately to keep the beast away from the mage long enough. Her weakened leg would not support her and she could feel fire building all around the wound. She stabbed at the beast with the dagger in her right hand while she clutched the man-spider's spear in her left. She was inches from the spear tip, watching the greenish ichor dripping from it, when Algrel completed his casting. Bolts of electrical power slammed into the creature. It roared in agony and hurled Juni away.

Smoke wafted from the charred wounds the mage had inflicted as it turned to face Algrel. Juni fell several feet away. Her hand burned from where it had scraped the spear tip as she was tossed away. She heard a groan from nearby and saw Nuvarel lying on the ground, his opponent's spear raised for a killing strike. Juni used the last reserve of strength left in her to hurl her dagger, piercing the man-spider in the cheek and forcing it to turn away in pain. Nuvarel leapt to his feet and swung, his broadsword making an arc at the beasts exposed belly. Green and brown ichor spewed as the beast screamed in pain, falling to the ground. It rolled around, trying to make the pain stop, but the Seysad ended it with a sword thrust to the head.

Nuvarel stepped over the now unconcious body of Juni and leapt at the remaining enemy. Distracted by Algrel's staff work, the man-spider was caught unawares by a slash to its gut. It watched in amazement as its innards fell to the ground beneath it and had time to glance upward just in time to watch the return sweep of the blade remove its head. Nuvarel collapsed to the ground, hand on his bleeding side. "The lady... she is hurt worse. Help her, mage."

Algrel rushed over to Juni. He pulled bandages from his satchel and tried desperately to stop the bleeding of the bard's leg wound. The wound itself was not as bad as anticipated, and short work by Algrel and the Seysad stopped the bleeding. She was feverish to the touch, however, and closer examination of her wound revealed the ichor.

"She is poisoned. If we do not get her to a healer soon, she will surely die," Algrel said.

Algrel and the Seysad took turns carrying the dying woman as they continued their journey, not stopping until they saw the welcoming lights of Welton.

 

[Puppy Kicker]

Chapter 4

Welton

---​

Vesmer 30

The sun had long set and the chill night air was settling in stronger than ever as the companions stumbled to the gate of the small town of Welton.

Nuvarell strained under Juni's weight as the woman quivered and shook in the pain of her sickness. Algrel looked in exhausted aggravation at the closed gates before wandering to the gate house, swaying slightly as he did so. A small hatch in the doorway opened in response to his pounding fist, and he could see a set of eyes peering out at him.

A gruff voice came from behind the door. "Come back in the morning. Not a one enters at this time of night, fool." The hatch slammed shut before the Fire Mage had a chance to allow his exhausted mind to comprehend what had been said and formulate a response. Algrel pounded on the door again, more violently this time. The hatch slid open again, the eyes replaced by the unsafe end of a large crossbow.

"Did you not hear me the first time? I've no patience for your type. Wait outside like anyone else, unless you've a death wish, boy."

Algrel pleaded, "Please, we've a woman who is dying and needs a healer. She may not last the night if we are forced to wait. We'll cause no trouble, I assure you. We need only a healer..." Algrel leaned against the door heavily as a wave of exhaustion hit him. He could see Nuvarel swaying under the bard's weight, barely able to stay upright after the exhausting excursion.

A moment later the hatch clattered shut and the gatehouse door swung open. Three chainmail wearing guards stepped out. The voice they had been speaking to came from the foremost one.

"We'll take the girl to the temple. You will stay out here until daylight." The mage began to argue then looked at the three crossbows trained on him. He waved Nuvarel forward and the Seysad brought Juni to the guards. The gruff soldier hollered back to the gatehouse and two more soldiers came out to carry the wounded woman into the city.

The gatehouse door closed behind them and the mage and Seysad collapsed to the ground at the base of Welton's gates, too exhausted to bother with a fire or thought.

---​

Vesmer 31

The opening gates woke them the next morning, a hideous creaking noise from the long overloaded hinges. Both men awoke quickly. They jumped to their feet and looked for a guard to speak to. As the gates opened the guard they had spoken to the night before stepped out and approached them.

"The woman is alive. She rests at the Temple of Ramm. I will have one of my men bring you to her. We will speak again." He waved a guard over and left them. The guard told them to follow and led them throught the streets of Welton.

The Journeyman's Rest and Mortani's Tavern greeted them on the right as they entered the town, a stable and store of some kind to their right. They passed the well in the middle of the square as they continued and the sqare narrowed to a cobbled street. It split and the guard led them down the left path, past a few small houses, before they arrived at the temple. It was a walled off stone building, surrounded by an herb garden. The pathway narrowed even more as it entered the temple grounds.

Two well armed and very shiny guards stood at the door to the temple, looking very ornamental. They did not even glance at the three as they passed into Ramm's house. The Priest of Ramm in charge of the temple told them of the experience they had with the poison of the man-spiders, who he called "Azgantha," and that the weakness caused by the poison was known to last for a long time after the poison itself has been neutralized.

The wound in Nuvarel's side had become inflamed, but the priests were able to heal him, leaving a large tender area. It would undoubtedly scar, but it was no longer a danger. Juni would heal, but she would need a few days of rest before she was in any shape to travel. Until then the Mage and Seysad were to make themselves comfortable in the town, perhaps rest after their long ordeal.

A couple hours later Algrel and Nuvarel were settled into a room at the Journeyman's Rest, content that Juni would live. Both men were asleep within minutes.

---​

"Where are they bedding then? I needs to get that obsidian trinket, no?"

"Talk quietly. Their lady friend is in that room, though she is perhaps not awake. The guard escorting them had mentioned the Journeyman, I would check there were I you." This voice was not familiar.

"I will go there, no? There is pay to give. Tell Geres I wants a bit more now, no? Ilmara is a long way from 'ere, and I do no enjoy the thought of the journey." This voice she had heard.

Juni's head raised from the pillow a bit. Slowly though, as the fever and delirium still affected her strongly. She managed to turn her face to the doorway from which she had heard the familiar voice before her neck gave out and her head fell. What is Mutere doing here? Perhaps he needs a... poison... he needs to get a barrel of... horse... my horse he took... The voices began to blur as Juni's eyes closed and she passed out.

---​

Malruik 1

Algrel awoke the next morning to sunlight in his eyes. Nuvarel stood in the center of the room, going through motions with his sword, wincing once in a while as the side wound was stretched or tensed. He stopped as Algrel sat up. "Juni is alive still, though I could not get a coherent word from her. I checked her last evening as you slept."

Algrel stretched. "She seems in good hands. A strong heart the woman has to have survived the trip to this town, I would have to say." Algrel stood up, stretching more. "I would have to say she is of a most attractive persuasion as well," he continued, grinning.

Nuvarel nodded his agreement, smiling as well. "Let's go see this town, Seysad. Who knows how long we may be here."

They spent a short time preparing, and the men left the room. A few minutes later a set of dark eyes spotted them leaving the Journeyman's Rest, and the eye's dark and dirty owner followed them to the marketplace.

Algrel wandered the marketplace most of the rest of the day, senses attuned for the glimmer of magic that was so common in the Shesadan markets. It was totally lacking in this backwards town, and as evening was approaching he had seen not a hint of enchantment in the entire north half of the town.

The crowds were thinning out by evening, and Algrel's stomach was discussing when the last time the mage had eaten a real meal was. A small shop displaying various baked tasties caught the mage's eye and he walked in. Two minutes later he stormed back out, hands fumbling at his belt and eyes wildly searching the diminishing crowd.

---​

"No recollection as to where it went I imagine. It seems luck was not on our side," Nuvarel said. The two men sat in the common room of the Journeyman's Rest, sipping ale and discussing what needed to be done. The Amulet was gone, in one of Algrel's pouches when it was pilfered. No decision had been reached by the time the two returned to their room, though both were still thinking of it as they fell asleep.

---​

Malruik 2

"She is awake, perhaps able to travel even, if you must." The priest led Algrel and Nuvarel into Juni's room. She sat up and smiled as they entered. "I'll leave you now. I still don't recommend you leave the town. She needs to heal." The priest bowed as he exited the room.

The three discussed the theft of the amlulet. Juni mentioned what she had heard outside her room. An inquisition of the priests revealed nothing, and Juni recognized none of their voices. "Men come and go in the temple. We are open to all, but not responsible for the words of all," one priest protested.

"It would seem the ruffian has encountered us again, though we were not aware of it. If he is taking the Amulet to Ilmara then we must get him. I've a feeling it is more important than it appears."

Nuvarel and Juni agreed. The three packed, Nuvarel's backpack bulging with a wineskin of medicine for Juni. The priests had insisted she take it daily until she could find more thourough healing. It was early evening when they left Welton. The gates closed for the night behind them and they began the long treck to Ilmara.