[Thanks for the high praise! Of course, my players are the ones who make the story; I was on vacation, so more to come after we play this coming weekend! While I have a couple major campaign arc ideas myself, I have no illusions that they are grand enough to merit putting me on the En Publishing payroll. Someday, when the demands of fatherhood and teaching lessen...maybe in a decade or nine, I'd be happy to share some of my ideas with the staff here and if they like them, turn them loose on it, but since they've still got over a year's worth of conversion to do, we'll play that when it comes later!]
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Torrent’s Journal: One view of a campaign
What a mess that business was. Here’s how it went down:
To actually attempt to capture an Inquisitor was no small task. The plan was made with Buron (whose arm is nicely setting but far from healed), Rivereye, Joven, a half-dozen Shahalesti (including Shealis) and myself. While my voice was heard, I always got the sense that it was with condescension from the Shahalesti, much like they were listening to a child explain why yellow was a pretty color. Still they did take my advice on one key matter: that we needed someone trusted by the Ragesians to help us out. Having nearly given up for lack of such a person, (a shame we hadn’t stopped the madness then), our infiltrator suddenly showed himself.
It was none other than Kathor Danava, lieutenant of the now diminished Black Horse Mercenaries. Which guards and council members have been letting his mercenary company in and out of the city is no small matter of consternation for me, but the fact is after getting beat-on by The Coming Storm twice, he’s no longer affiliated with the Ragesisans. He claims to have come over to our side, and I honestly believe he’s telling the truth. Considering that his father is a hero to Gate’s Pass for fighting off an ettin invasion AND is leading the Ragesian army against Gate’s Pass, I can’t imagine how Kathor is feeling.
Needless to say, we used Kathor to lure one of the Inquistors to the same warehouse that the Coming Storm defeated the White Wyrm band in, seeing as how Joven told us it had two pit traps already. Of course, the heretic didn’t come alone, but brought a bodyguard of three other half-orc soldiers. When they arrived, their suspicions were already aroused. Shealis was quick in conjuring a wall of fire between the Inquisitor and the door he came in from. Arrows from Joven took down one of his guards, and a melee ensued between the Shahalesti and the other two Ragesisans. From my vantage point, it seemed like the Inquisitor raised and swiftly dropped one hand. Like that, the fiery wall was out, sparing the warehouse from going up in flames but opening a point of retreat. He very well would have made it out, had Buron not swung a club into his kneecaps with his one good arm from the outside. We made it back to the safehouse though only one of Shealis’s companions survived and we left a rather messy scene behind us.
All of our efforts were in vain. The heretic was beyond firm in his beliefs. Despite all the bravado of the stories, no normal man is capable of withstanding real torture. In fact, it is usually the fear of torture that makes even the strongest heart crumble. But the Inquisitor endured torments administered by the cold-faced eladrin that I feel nauseous even recalling. We got a name: Drengo Fletcher and the fact that he was a new initiate. That was all. A couple hours ago, someone took pity on the Ragesian. Already short many fingers and toes, blinded, and mad with pain: Drengo was killed by someone staying here in the Brotherhood’s temple. Now, the Inquisitors are tearing open people’s homes in search of those who took their comrade. It is only a matter of time until we are found if Shealis does not get us out of here.
I received a sending ritual from the tiefling, “Az,” that took my and Joven’s place. They aren’t too happy with the short cut so far. The cooling draughts seem to be working wonderfully though only Ozric, Damner, and Milo seem to require them. But since entering the woods, the forest and its creatures seem to be continuously on the offensive. They describe the flames as possessing a sentience and awareness, allowing The Coming Storm to enter and then closing the path behind them with roaring flames. He mentioned something about two separate incidences involving fiery bats that swept down upon them, including two the size of large mastiffs that simply would not die. He also told me of an elemental goblin and a bridge so worn with heat that Damner fell through and nearly died in the gorge below. And that was all before noon. (Remember they killed the Inquisitor after breakfast at the edge of the forest, too!) On the fortunate side of things, they did rescue a former student of Gabal’s school named Durval. Sadly, he thought his magic could protect himself and his family as they fled the scourge through the Fire Forest. He was in a state of near madness from the death of his kin and the pain of continual fire burning him, but Ozric escorted him to the edge of the forest and worked some healing magic. He left the man with Crystin and Haddin at their farm. Shortly after Damner's fall, they came to a cave with a an underground spring and took early refuge and rest. I hope tomorrow, they can make if farther than two miles, but we’ll see…
The winged seela moved closer.
“I am bound to a large boulder,” lied Kazyk smoothly, “much like a dryad is to a tree.” The flames that composed his beard flickered weakly, and he leaned heavily on the shaft of the serrated glaive. The gashes in his flesh and trickle of black ichor from his nostril contributed to his weakened state; he didn’t have to feign agony. His quarry had proven they fought well as a pack.
“Oh, I know a dryad!” the seela said brightly, fluttering closer on large flame-wreathed wings that blurred like a dragonfly’s. “She’s named Timbre, but she’s not very happy any…”
Kazyk’s left hand shot out in a blurring claw even as his right continued to grip the glaive for support. His claws snapped around the fey’s throat like a bear-trap and pulled her face up to his own. “Oh, do shut up.” His own yellow eyes bored into the seela’s crystalline green ones as they bulged dramatically from her head. “This forest will ensure your continued agonizing existence, but I need your skin right now. I won’t lie,” he added calmly, releasing his hold on the glaive and teetering slightly as the seela gasped for enough air to beg, “this is going to hurt even more than your burning. It’s a whole new level of pain. But if you’re quiet, I might be able to work a little quicker.” The devil extended the index finger of his right hand and touched it to the nape of the seela’s neck. He moved it in an upside-down”U”, clenching his fist on her throat to slow her struggles. As blood welled up from his incision, he pinched the area between his cutting with thumb and forefinger. He smiled again, “I lied. I think I’d like to hear you scream.” With that he began to slowly peel back her skin. It tore down nearly five inches before ripping free somewhere above her left breast.
Kazyk lifted the flap of skin above his head and opened his mouth, as the seela’s screams were swallowed up by the crackling of the burning trees around her. “One down…” He dropped the slice of skin into his fanged mouth. As he did so, one of the small wounds near his neck began to close up. “…about forty-nine left to go.”
As he ate, he pondered what to do with the band he was tracking. “We have what you’re looking for,” the halfling had stated. Clearly, he would have to rally the hounds as it were and fulfill his contract the hard way. If that failed, well, this burning sprite could re-nourish him again.
To actually attempt to capture an Inquisitor was no small task. The plan was made with Buron (whose arm is nicely setting but far from healed), Rivereye, Joven, a half-dozen Shahalesti (including Shealis) and myself. While my voice was heard, I always got the sense that it was with condescension from the Shahalesti, much like they were listening to a child explain why yellow was a pretty color. Still they did take my advice on one key matter: that we needed someone trusted by the Ragesians to help us out. Having nearly given up for lack of such a person, (a shame we hadn’t stopped the madness then), our infiltrator suddenly showed himself.
It was none other than Kathor Danava, lieutenant of the now diminished Black Horse Mercenaries. Which guards and council members have been letting his mercenary company in and out of the city is no small matter of consternation for me, but the fact is after getting beat-on by The Coming Storm twice, he’s no longer affiliated with the Ragesisans. He claims to have come over to our side, and I honestly believe he’s telling the truth. Considering that his father is a hero to Gate’s Pass for fighting off an ettin invasion AND is leading the Ragesian army against Gate’s Pass, I can’t imagine how Kathor is feeling.
Needless to say, we used Kathor to lure one of the Inquistors to the same warehouse that the Coming Storm defeated the White Wyrm band in, seeing as how Joven told us it had two pit traps already. Of course, the heretic didn’t come alone, but brought a bodyguard of three other half-orc soldiers. When they arrived, their suspicions were already aroused. Shealis was quick in conjuring a wall of fire between the Inquisitor and the door he came in from. Arrows from Joven took down one of his guards, and a melee ensued between the Shahalesti and the other two Ragesisans. From my vantage point, it seemed like the Inquisitor raised and swiftly dropped one hand. Like that, the fiery wall was out, sparing the warehouse from going up in flames but opening a point of retreat. He very well would have made it out, had Buron not swung a club into his kneecaps with his one good arm from the outside. We made it back to the safehouse though only one of Shealis’s companions survived and we left a rather messy scene behind us.
All of our efforts were in vain. The heretic was beyond firm in his beliefs. Despite all the bravado of the stories, no normal man is capable of withstanding real torture. In fact, it is usually the fear of torture that makes even the strongest heart crumble. But the Inquisitor endured torments administered by the cold-faced eladrin that I feel nauseous even recalling. We got a name: Drengo Fletcher and the fact that he was a new initiate. That was all. A couple hours ago, someone took pity on the Ragesian. Already short many fingers and toes, blinded, and mad with pain: Drengo was killed by someone staying here in the Brotherhood’s temple. Now, the Inquisitors are tearing open people’s homes in search of those who took their comrade. It is only a matter of time until we are found if Shealis does not get us out of here.
I received a sending ritual from the tiefling, “Az,” that took my and Joven’s place. They aren’t too happy with the short cut so far. The cooling draughts seem to be working wonderfully though only Ozric, Damner, and Milo seem to require them. But since entering the woods, the forest and its creatures seem to be continuously on the offensive. They describe the flames as possessing a sentience and awareness, allowing The Coming Storm to enter and then closing the path behind them with roaring flames. He mentioned something about two separate incidences involving fiery bats that swept down upon them, including two the size of large mastiffs that simply would not die. He also told me of an elemental goblin and a bridge so worn with heat that Damner fell through and nearly died in the gorge below. And that was all before noon. (Remember they killed the Inquisitor after breakfast at the edge of the forest, too!) On the fortunate side of things, they did rescue a former student of Gabal’s school named Durval. Sadly, he thought his magic could protect himself and his family as they fled the scourge through the Fire Forest. He was in a state of near madness from the death of his kin and the pain of continual fire burning him, but Ozric escorted him to the edge of the forest and worked some healing magic. He left the man with Crystin and Haddin at their farm. Shortly after Damner's fall, they came to a cave with a an underground spring and took early refuge and rest. I hope tomorrow, they can make if farther than two miles, but we’ll see…
The winged seela moved closer.
“I am bound to a large boulder,” lied Kazyk smoothly, “much like a dryad is to a tree.” The flames that composed his beard flickered weakly, and he leaned heavily on the shaft of the serrated glaive. The gashes in his flesh and trickle of black ichor from his nostril contributed to his weakened state; he didn’t have to feign agony. His quarry had proven they fought well as a pack.
“Oh, I know a dryad!” the seela said brightly, fluttering closer on large flame-wreathed wings that blurred like a dragonfly’s. “She’s named Timbre, but she’s not very happy any…”
Kazyk’s left hand shot out in a blurring claw even as his right continued to grip the glaive for support. His claws snapped around the fey’s throat like a bear-trap and pulled her face up to his own. “Oh, do shut up.” His own yellow eyes bored into the seela’s crystalline green ones as they bulged dramatically from her head. “This forest will ensure your continued agonizing existence, but I need your skin right now. I won’t lie,” he added calmly, releasing his hold on the glaive and teetering slightly as the seela gasped for enough air to beg, “this is going to hurt even more than your burning. It’s a whole new level of pain. But if you’re quiet, I might be able to work a little quicker.” The devil extended the index finger of his right hand and touched it to the nape of the seela’s neck. He moved it in an upside-down”U”, clenching his fist on her throat to slow her struggles. As blood welled up from his incision, he pinched the area between his cutting with thumb and forefinger. He smiled again, “I lied. I think I’d like to hear you scream.” With that he began to slowly peel back her skin. It tore down nearly five inches before ripping free somewhere above her left breast.
Kazyk lifted the flap of skin above his head and opened his mouth, as the seela’s screams were swallowed up by the crackling of the burning trees around her. “One down…” He dropped the slice of skin into his fanged mouth. As he did so, one of the small wounds near his neck began to close up. “…about forty-nine left to go.”
As he ate, he pondered what to do with the band he was tracking. “We have what you’re looking for,” the halfling had stated. Clearly, he would have to rally the hounds as it were and fulfill his contract the hard way. If that failed, well, this burning sprite could re-nourish him again.
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Kurychek, the imp, sneered as he perched on the table top. It took a break from gloating to insolently stab at the platter of roast with his beak
Inquisitor Guthwulf scowled back from across the scratched and scorched table. It had been dragged into the shop from the ruins of a nearby pub along with a single salvageable chair. The insignia of an apple with a skull over it was carved over the top of it, though what that was to mean, he had no idea. As the imp pulled a piece of pork from his own dinner, Guthwulf pulled the plate back out of its reach.
“Our contract bound me to return the case originally stolen by the gnome Rivereye,” the small devil squawked. It undoubtedly chose to remain in raven-form so its voice would grate on his nerves even more. “You have the case, so my role is done.”
Guthwulf shook his head knowing already that the little bastard was correct. “The case is worthless without its contents,” he growled, punctuating his words by pointing his Inquisitor’s Claw at the devil. If the High Inquisitor Kreven knew he was carving his roast with his trade’s weapon and symbol of authority, he would be very displeased, but such displeasure would become palpable rage if he knew of this failure. “You should have obtained it before the switch could be made.”
The raven-imp laughed, it’s cawing like nails dragged over a tin roof. “You should have put in a clause if you wanted speedier service. You have the case and I am no longer bound to your service.” Kurychek paused to let his former master seethe a while. Then, in a burst of flame accompanied by an audible pop, Kurychek vanished, leaving only a few drifting black feathers and the aroma of sulfur in the air.
Guthwulf sighed. It was as he had expected. He suspected the devil might have even made contact with the spies, perhaps arranged things this way. It was no matter; he had a stronger devil, Kazyk, pursuing the resistance members, just in case the imp had managed to dodge its responsibility. Reaching into the pocket of his tabard, he unfolded a small triangle of parchment to re-read the contract with the perfidious devil:
“You shall learn and reveal to me the history of the fire forest and its secret of
continual burning. And too, shall you retrieve and return to me the adamantine case containing the Ragesian secrets. Let not those who held or hold the case, nor their companions, leave the burning forest with their lives.”
The first line was in little danger of being violated. High Inquisitor Kreven would have his information, though how he could use it to move troops through the burning pass was a mystery to him. However, if the devil realized the group did not have the adamantine case, the second line would be nullified. Guthwulf smiled at the third line. Without knowing for sure which of the escapees once held the case and with the use of the word “companions”, the devil would have to kill them all. If the secrets were incinerated in the forest with their corpses, surely Kreven would be satisfied. Guthwulf re-read the contact. again. Devils, by their nature, sought the easiest way to fulfill the letter of their binding. Perfidious devils were full of pride, too, so Guthwulf doubted this one would avoid a fight.
****
Well, Shealis and I are on our way now to Shahalesti. She’s pretty angry right now, though it has little to do with the minor teleporting-related burns we sustained in escaping beyond the city walls. Some of it is related to the inability to get any information from our captured Inquisitor. More of it may stem from the fact that the raven swooped down and carried off a case more than ten times its size when Shealis felt the call of nature, as it were. So much for the distraction. But it’s probably mostly because Joven slipped away once he got on the other side. That’s pretty uncharacteristic of him, to break his word like that. He must have had a good reason to leave though it saddens me to know that I will be making this trip with Shealis and her solon familiar only. The prospect of many more days of the silent treatment is not one I envy. The next camp we get to should have horses awaiting us.
I don’t know that I envy my former companions in the fire forest, though if I was with them, I might have prevented a lot of wasted time. For them, the day began with a greeting from a hell hound toting a femur in its jaws. Carved into the bone was a message from a devil asking for “the case.” This was followed up shortly thereafter by the appearance of a fiery, glaive-wielding devil who fought the Coming Storm for said non-existent case, only to vanish to safety before they could dispatch him. He will provide a nuisance for them, I’m sure, but hopefully little more. Still, I’d keep double watches at night.
Only a little farther down the road, the party came across a dragonborn sorcerer named Khadral. In what I would consider a spectacular waste of precious time, the group agreed to dally with him over lunch, play some dicing games, and run errands for him to find some fungal reagents for a ritual that would allegedly put out the fires of Innenotdar. These reagents were located in a subterranean cave warded by the remnants of a magical alarm spell. From what I understand an eldarin body was found with that of some goblins. I assume they battled one another, but why the Shahalesti Solei Palancis would have been in this cave forty years ago is a strange puzzle. It must have something to do with the records of a transaction of Shahalesti gold to the Razortooth goblin tribe they found in the cave last night. I fear to ask Shealis if she knows any history about this given her foul temper. Associating her people with goblinoids might be the final straw that gets me turned into a newt.
Anyways, more fighting came of this diversion, against some large walking fungal creatures. Then, predictably, Khadral’s ritual failed, killing a dryad in the process and dumping the dragonborn into the depths of the earth and into the spongy hands of the fungal colony. Oz nearly became a mushroom meal himself in an aborted rescue attempt, but the others quite literally hauled his beaten form up and out of the cavern. From the sounds of things, Damner, at least, is thinking of going back to rescue him. I have mixed feelings on this. On the one hand, they did agree to help him, but on the other, too much is riding on the success of their mission to die in the clutches of these plant-like beings.
The forest indeed IS sentient and approached the Coming Storm. After testing them with the attack of some burning stags, the forest itself manifested a face and burning set of eyes and spoke to them. Az claims the exact words were: “Know this: I am the flame, and I am a prisoner here. Save me, free me from the prison of this enforced flesh, and you may continue to your destination. Refuse, and never shall you leave this wood. You shall be a prisoner for as long as I. You shall burn forever and never die.” Compelling argument…
Needless to say, the Coming Storm agreed to help this somewhat abrasive-sounding spirit (?) by silencing the “forty tongues” that bind it. As part of the arrangement, each of the party was granted a boon by the spirit Indomitability: the power of the ever-burning flame kindling in their blood. The cooling draughts will no longer be needed and they possess the dubious “power” of rekindling as…something else…should they fall. I can say for certain that I would have wanted no part of it, having kinship with water-spirits myself. At least their travels will take them downriver and vaguely southward. If they can put out the fire, it won’t be much farther to get back on the elf-road. Just beyond the point of the delivered ultimatum was a bridge crossing a river. In its midst stands a fortress tower that once overlooked a village, now incinerated. It is here the Coming Storm agreed to spend the night, though they needed to spring some traps first. Of note amongst some treasures there, was a journal. But since no one knows elven, its mysteries will remain just that.
Inquisitor Guthwulf scowled back from across the scratched and scorched table. It had been dragged into the shop from the ruins of a nearby pub along with a single salvageable chair. The insignia of an apple with a skull over it was carved over the top of it, though what that was to mean, he had no idea. As the imp pulled a piece of pork from his own dinner, Guthwulf pulled the plate back out of its reach.
“Our contract bound me to return the case originally stolen by the gnome Rivereye,” the small devil squawked. It undoubtedly chose to remain in raven-form so its voice would grate on his nerves even more. “You have the case, so my role is done.”
Guthwulf shook his head knowing already that the little bastard was correct. “The case is worthless without its contents,” he growled, punctuating his words by pointing his Inquisitor’s Claw at the devil. If the High Inquisitor Kreven knew he was carving his roast with his trade’s weapon and symbol of authority, he would be very displeased, but such displeasure would become palpable rage if he knew of this failure. “You should have obtained it before the switch could be made.”
The raven-imp laughed, it’s cawing like nails dragged over a tin roof. “You should have put in a clause if you wanted speedier service. You have the case and I am no longer bound to your service.” Kurychek paused to let his former master seethe a while. Then, in a burst of flame accompanied by an audible pop, Kurychek vanished, leaving only a few drifting black feathers and the aroma of sulfur in the air.
Guthwulf sighed. It was as he had expected. He suspected the devil might have even made contact with the spies, perhaps arranged things this way. It was no matter; he had a stronger devil, Kazyk, pursuing the resistance members, just in case the imp had managed to dodge its responsibility. Reaching into the pocket of his tabard, he unfolded a small triangle of parchment to re-read the contract with the perfidious devil:
“You shall learn and reveal to me the history of the fire forest and its secret of
continual burning. And too, shall you retrieve and return to me the adamantine case containing the Ragesian secrets. Let not those who held or hold the case, nor their companions, leave the burning forest with their lives.”
The first line was in little danger of being violated. High Inquisitor Kreven would have his information, though how he could use it to move troops through the burning pass was a mystery to him. However, if the devil realized the group did not have the adamantine case, the second line would be nullified. Guthwulf smiled at the third line. Without knowing for sure which of the escapees once held the case and with the use of the word “companions”, the devil would have to kill them all. If the secrets were incinerated in the forest with their corpses, surely Kreven would be satisfied. Guthwulf re-read the contact. again. Devils, by their nature, sought the easiest way to fulfill the letter of their binding. Perfidious devils were full of pride, too, so Guthwulf doubted this one would avoid a fight.
****
Well, Shealis and I are on our way now to Shahalesti. She’s pretty angry right now, though it has little to do with the minor teleporting-related burns we sustained in escaping beyond the city walls. Some of it is related to the inability to get any information from our captured Inquisitor. More of it may stem from the fact that the raven swooped down and carried off a case more than ten times its size when Shealis felt the call of nature, as it were. So much for the distraction. But it’s probably mostly because Joven slipped away once he got on the other side. That’s pretty uncharacteristic of him, to break his word like that. He must have had a good reason to leave though it saddens me to know that I will be making this trip with Shealis and her solon familiar only. The prospect of many more days of the silent treatment is not one I envy. The next camp we get to should have horses awaiting us.
I don’t know that I envy my former companions in the fire forest, though if I was with them, I might have prevented a lot of wasted time. For them, the day began with a greeting from a hell hound toting a femur in its jaws. Carved into the bone was a message from a devil asking for “the case.” This was followed up shortly thereafter by the appearance of a fiery, glaive-wielding devil who fought the Coming Storm for said non-existent case, only to vanish to safety before they could dispatch him. He will provide a nuisance for them, I’m sure, but hopefully little more. Still, I’d keep double watches at night.
Only a little farther down the road, the party came across a dragonborn sorcerer named Khadral. In what I would consider a spectacular waste of precious time, the group agreed to dally with him over lunch, play some dicing games, and run errands for him to find some fungal reagents for a ritual that would allegedly put out the fires of Innenotdar. These reagents were located in a subterranean cave warded by the remnants of a magical alarm spell. From what I understand an eldarin body was found with that of some goblins. I assume they battled one another, but why the Shahalesti Solei Palancis would have been in this cave forty years ago is a strange puzzle. It must have something to do with the records of a transaction of Shahalesti gold to the Razortooth goblin tribe they found in the cave last night. I fear to ask Shealis if she knows any history about this given her foul temper. Associating her people with goblinoids might be the final straw that gets me turned into a newt.
Anyways, more fighting came of this diversion, against some large walking fungal creatures. Then, predictably, Khadral’s ritual failed, killing a dryad in the process and dumping the dragonborn into the depths of the earth and into the spongy hands of the fungal colony. Oz nearly became a mushroom meal himself in an aborted rescue attempt, but the others quite literally hauled his beaten form up and out of the cavern. From the sounds of things, Damner, at least, is thinking of going back to rescue him. I have mixed feelings on this. On the one hand, they did agree to help him, but on the other, too much is riding on the success of their mission to die in the clutches of these plant-like beings.
The forest indeed IS sentient and approached the Coming Storm. After testing them with the attack of some burning stags, the forest itself manifested a face and burning set of eyes and spoke to them. Az claims the exact words were: “Know this: I am the flame, and I am a prisoner here. Save me, free me from the prison of this enforced flesh, and you may continue to your destination. Refuse, and never shall you leave this wood. You shall be a prisoner for as long as I. You shall burn forever and never die.” Compelling argument…
Needless to say, the Coming Storm agreed to help this somewhat abrasive-sounding spirit (?) by silencing the “forty tongues” that bind it. As part of the arrangement, each of the party was granted a boon by the spirit Indomitability: the power of the ever-burning flame kindling in their blood. The cooling draughts will no longer be needed and they possess the dubious “power” of rekindling as…something else…should they fall. I can say for certain that I would have wanted no part of it, having kinship with water-spirits myself. At least their travels will take them downriver and vaguely southward. If they can put out the fire, it won’t be much farther to get back on the elf-road. Just beyond the point of the delivered ultimatum was a bridge crossing a river. In its midst stands a fortress tower that once overlooked a village, now incinerated. It is here the Coming Storm agreed to spend the night, though they needed to spring some traps first. Of note amongst some treasures there, was a journal. But since no one knows elven, its mysteries will remain just that.
The Solei Palancis knight sat on the grey, ash-colored stone, his armored legs dangling over the dried up basin of the fountain. The clack of metal on stone echoed in the silent air, accompanied only by the crackle of ever-burning trees and the hiss of air being released in the flames. Behind him, the stone door into the shrine hung ajar, sundered by the might of the dwarf that had threatened him before his companions could settle him down.
He was once known as Eteranth, trusted advisor to Shaaladel, king of Shahalesti, slain in battle by the Emperor Coaltongue himself over four decades ago. His god had brought him back on the whispered prayers of an unknown priest to ward this shrine until the day that Innenotdar’s justice was served. Looking at the burning woods around him, that justice would avail no one but the restless spirits of the dead.
Eteranth sighed. He was convinced now that it was his own people to blame. Forty years ago, Aurana, Shaaladel’s other aide, had spoken of working with the “yellow ones” and it seemed clear now that it was goblins she meant. Torfendar may have just been following her orders, but clearly the weight of this cataclysm could not be so easily unburdened. The knight wondered if he had done himself in or of he had truly fallen in battle. He looked up and out towards the sound of the fray going on in the remains of the village. Smoke clouds blocked his view and his radiant bindings prevented him from helping those who awakened him, but Eteranth wondered if he would help anyways.
The Halfling was a convincing liar; being in the Shahalesti court for over a century had trained him, in life, to detect half-truths and lies easily enough. Where Torfendar lay in his final rest, however, he probably would not find out, but it was impossible to think that the Halfling could have met him in his mortal span. Undoubtedly, those who awakened him were looting on their way through the woods. His only hope now lay in this party’s bringing to light what happened here. It would shame his people, but surely the spirits of the people who died here deserved that much. And then, perhaps, he could rest and leave this hell on earth.
The sounds of combat had stopped, or the fight had migrated beyond his keen sense of hearing. Alone then…
***
Kazyk snarled and kicked the seela in the ribs.
“Raaaaargh!!!” he screamed in frustration and spun his glaive down severing the fae’s hand from her arm. Steaming blood and smoke sprayed from the stump as she screamed. While her skin had slowly regenerated, her wailing proved that the pain of immolation could be layered with other agonies.
These foolish mortals had defeated him twice now, despite his precautions. The devil stared down at the burning forest sprite until her suffering restored a smile to his face. “Very well then,” he mused aloud, “third time is the charm. How to go about it though.” These mortals had the blessings of dwarven spirits among them, and not the kind one consumed in drunken revelry. The one adressed as Ozric then. He would have to die first so that the others would stay down. The Halfling and the other dwarf could be burnt, but the former would need to be held down somehow and the latter’s ax was proving to be a bane to his minions. The other two, the tiefling and the half-orc…they would be a problem with their seeming immunity to fire.
“Rule one,” the devil announced to his bound and screaming captive, “if they fall, finish the job. No mercy, no second chances.” The seela didn’t seem overly interested, so Kazyk offered her another solid kick. She seemed more in tune with the pain of her missing hand, but apparently severed limbs could regenerate in the woods too. Interesting… “Rule two: Hit them when they’re resting or weakened. Drop their watcher and then slit their throats in their sleep.”
“RULE THREE!” boomed a voice around the devil, causing him to spin around in confusion, “AGREE TO AID MY ESCAPE AND WE WILL DESTROY THEM TOGETHER!” Kazyk stepped back in inadvertent fear as a face made of swirling smoke and fire materialized in the blaze of a large tree before him. Blue flames danced in a parody of moving lips, “IN GOING UPRIVER, THEY HAVE DEFIED MY ORDERS AND RENEGED ON THE DEAL! THEY WILL SEEK TO HELP THE FORTY TONGUES AND MUST BE DESTROYED! YOU WILL FREE ME, DEVIL!”
Kazyk reeled back from the deafening voice but nodded his head in agreement.
“AS A SIGN OF GOOD FAITH, YOU WILL PROVE YOUR LOYALTY! WHEN YOU HAVE WHAT YOU NEED, FINISH HER! THEN THERE WILL REMAIN THIRTY-NINE!”
The devil grinned. Slaying the seela might deprove him of his fun and his ability to rejuvenate, but her use was nearly expended anyways. These mortals didn’t have a chance…Third time would be, indeed, the charm.
"I am willing and eager to lend my help," Kazyk said.
He was once known as Eteranth, trusted advisor to Shaaladel, king of Shahalesti, slain in battle by the Emperor Coaltongue himself over four decades ago. His god had brought him back on the whispered prayers of an unknown priest to ward this shrine until the day that Innenotdar’s justice was served. Looking at the burning woods around him, that justice would avail no one but the restless spirits of the dead.
Eteranth sighed. He was convinced now that it was his own people to blame. Forty years ago, Aurana, Shaaladel’s other aide, had spoken of working with the “yellow ones” and it seemed clear now that it was goblins she meant. Torfendar may have just been following her orders, but clearly the weight of this cataclysm could not be so easily unburdened. The knight wondered if he had done himself in or of he had truly fallen in battle. He looked up and out towards the sound of the fray going on in the remains of the village. Smoke clouds blocked his view and his radiant bindings prevented him from helping those who awakened him, but Eteranth wondered if he would help anyways.
The Halfling was a convincing liar; being in the Shahalesti court for over a century had trained him, in life, to detect half-truths and lies easily enough. Where Torfendar lay in his final rest, however, he probably would not find out, but it was impossible to think that the Halfling could have met him in his mortal span. Undoubtedly, those who awakened him were looting on their way through the woods. His only hope now lay in this party’s bringing to light what happened here. It would shame his people, but surely the spirits of the people who died here deserved that much. And then, perhaps, he could rest and leave this hell on earth.
The sounds of combat had stopped, or the fight had migrated beyond his keen sense of hearing. Alone then…
***
Kazyk snarled and kicked the seela in the ribs.
“Raaaaargh!!!” he screamed in frustration and spun his glaive down severing the fae’s hand from her arm. Steaming blood and smoke sprayed from the stump as she screamed. While her skin had slowly regenerated, her wailing proved that the pain of immolation could be layered with other agonies.
These foolish mortals had defeated him twice now, despite his precautions. The devil stared down at the burning forest sprite until her suffering restored a smile to his face. “Very well then,” he mused aloud, “third time is the charm. How to go about it though.” These mortals had the blessings of dwarven spirits among them, and not the kind one consumed in drunken revelry. The one adressed as Ozric then. He would have to die first so that the others would stay down. The Halfling and the other dwarf could be burnt, but the former would need to be held down somehow and the latter’s ax was proving to be a bane to his minions. The other two, the tiefling and the half-orc…they would be a problem with their seeming immunity to fire.
“Rule one,” the devil announced to his bound and screaming captive, “if they fall, finish the job. No mercy, no second chances.” The seela didn’t seem overly interested, so Kazyk offered her another solid kick. She seemed more in tune with the pain of her missing hand, but apparently severed limbs could regenerate in the woods too. Interesting… “Rule two: Hit them when they’re resting or weakened. Drop their watcher and then slit their throats in their sleep.”
“RULE THREE!” boomed a voice around the devil, causing him to spin around in confusion, “AGREE TO AID MY ESCAPE AND WE WILL DESTROY THEM TOGETHER!” Kazyk stepped back in inadvertent fear as a face made of swirling smoke and fire materialized in the blaze of a large tree before him. Blue flames danced in a parody of moving lips, “IN GOING UPRIVER, THEY HAVE DEFIED MY ORDERS AND RENEGED ON THE DEAL! THEY WILL SEEK TO HELP THE FORTY TONGUES AND MUST BE DESTROYED! YOU WILL FREE ME, DEVIL!”
Kazyk reeled back from the deafening voice but nodded his head in agreement.
“AS A SIGN OF GOOD FAITH, YOU WILL PROVE YOUR LOYALTY! WHEN YOU HAVE WHAT YOU NEED, FINISH HER! THEN THERE WILL REMAIN THIRTY-NINE!”
The devil grinned. Slaying the seela might deprove him of his fun and his ability to rejuvenate, but her use was nearly expended anyways. These mortals didn’t have a chance…Third time would be, indeed, the charm.
"I am willing and eager to lend my help," Kazyk said.
I can’t believe that Joven has done this for me.
We were a couple days into Shahalesti when the Ragesians struck our diminished party. As usual, Shealis had little to say to me though the silence was definitely thicker than fog. We had a fight the night before the attack. I told her what Az revealed in the sending from the waterfall at the mouth of the river Inendotdar: that the Shahalesti were responsible for the immolation of the forest. Needless to say she progressed from denial, to ridicule, to open anger as I lay at her feet the names and evidence of her people’s cooperation with goblins that would lead to the death of a small civilization. With everyone brooding, no one was really looking out for the four wyverns that swooped down upon us.
Between Joven’s arrows and the battery of spells we launched, we were doing more than holding off the enemy, but then Joven cried out to me, “Go! Back to the woods! I’ll cover you!” I’m embarrassed to say I knew exactly what he meant and I did not hesitate. Joven would continue on to the eladrin nation, allowing me to journey back and see for myself if, indeed, The Coming Storm had managed to end the conflagration and rescue the Seela.
Riding away, my thoughts went to what they had told me. A second fight with this glaive-wielding devil and then a third that ended in truce. A swift paddle upriver to meet with a unicorn known as Nelle, and a journey down to Lake Seela, after a several fun dips in the rapids. The choices seemed simple once they arrived. A spirit of some sort inhabited the body of one of the Seela. This character, Vuhl, advocated Indomitability’s desire to eradicate the seela and “end their suffering.” Undoubtedly, he sought only to free Indomitability. The Coming Storm wouldn’t even consider it. Zane dragged him out of his cave with the intent of submerging him and allowing himself to meet with the release he so actively sought for all Seela. In a moment, the fight began. Vuhl, or rather that-which-possessed-Vuhl, unleased a powerful field of psychic energy that caused the land itself to dance shimmer and spin out of control. As I understand it, Zane and Damner, who were in the thick of that field, had blood running out of their ears and eyes. To make matters worse, the enemy was capable of dominating their will and manipulating their actions. Compounded with all this was Kazyk’s brief appearance, a grab of Az, and then a fiery teleportation out of there, leaving the Storm down one member. I will need to document everything that this Vuhl threw at them, for not only did it nearly kill them, but I’m sure that they’ll meet him or more of his kind again.
It would seem that whatever being it was, it could be contained in a physical, substantial state by the Song of Forms. Hopefully one of them has learned it from the Seela.
From there, my former companions gathered some information from the locals and decided that their best course of action would be to meet with the “soul” of the forest: the dryad Timbre. To get there though was no small feat. Half-consumed by madness and grief, the only way they could get close to her was to bring her a token of her lost love, Anyariel. This they obtained from a nymph-gone-hag named Gwenvere on the south shore of the lake after finally convincing her of their intentions to stop the endless fire. The hag had been coveting a lock of hair from her unrequited love, Anyariel. Jealousy was dispelled, Gwenvere realized her duty to Lake Seela, and the group was given the lock of hair to bring to Timbre.
The dryad was found weeping in a combination of despair and the never-ending agony of conflagration. Again, my allies persuaded her to help and she revealed some important information. So long as a part of her willow tree remained alive, so might the Seela who were born from it (which in turn was born from a gold dragon somehow). It would seem that Indomitability was pinned under the lake by a sword made of wood from the willow tree. Hence, so long as the sword bonded with someone, the Seela would survive regardless of the fate of the trees of Inendotdar. And so the plan was hatched…
Ozric had the remaining Seela survivors line up along the shore to sing en masse as one chorus. Empowered by a boon from Gwenvere, the Coming Storm swam out into the water, quick as fishes. The sword was to be extracted by Zane as the others assumed a flanking position. Indomitability, in the form of a stag, never had a chance. In less than half a minute, it was over. Kazyk chose that moment to appear, sending his formless lemurs against the Seela, but seeing the great fire spirit dispatched with little wounds to show for it, the devil wisely surrendered. Az’s location was given to the party by Kazyk, and he explained that with the forest now able to burn its course, he would be free of his contract (a little flaw in the wording, it would seem).
It was a night of merriment fueled by the joy of freedom, Ozric’s endless flagon, and the apparently true characteristic of the fae to lack in modesty and inhibitions. Perhaps Az was toying with me or perhaps he was bitter since he was busy recovering, but based on what I heard of the celebrations, I wonder if half-Seela children will have been conceived that night. I shudder at the thought given my companions’ dwarven, orcan, and halfling composition.
So what now? Well, clearly the road to Seaquen is now open though I wonder if they will take the Eastern Way or the Western. I will follow behind them, but without any cooling draughts, I doubt I’ll be able to catch up until they’ve reached the town. Still, I’ve told Az through a sending ritual about my mentor at Lyceum, Lee Sidoneth. I’m certain he will help them get an audience at the school if the mages there don’t immediately let them in with the Ragesian secrets they carry. Still, it’s a trek yet to get to Seaquen. The lands they pass through are far from safe, particularly the swamp that fills the peninsula to the west of the town itself. But destiny has brought together their team and if they have conquered the Forest Fire of Inendotdar, I’m sure they will be safe.
We were a couple days into Shahalesti when the Ragesians struck our diminished party. As usual, Shealis had little to say to me though the silence was definitely thicker than fog. We had a fight the night before the attack. I told her what Az revealed in the sending from the waterfall at the mouth of the river Inendotdar: that the Shahalesti were responsible for the immolation of the forest. Needless to say she progressed from denial, to ridicule, to open anger as I lay at her feet the names and evidence of her people’s cooperation with goblins that would lead to the death of a small civilization. With everyone brooding, no one was really looking out for the four wyverns that swooped down upon us.
Between Joven’s arrows and the battery of spells we launched, we were doing more than holding off the enemy, but then Joven cried out to me, “Go! Back to the woods! I’ll cover you!” I’m embarrassed to say I knew exactly what he meant and I did not hesitate. Joven would continue on to the eladrin nation, allowing me to journey back and see for myself if, indeed, The Coming Storm had managed to end the conflagration and rescue the Seela.
Riding away, my thoughts went to what they had told me. A second fight with this glaive-wielding devil and then a third that ended in truce. A swift paddle upriver to meet with a unicorn known as Nelle, and a journey down to Lake Seela, after a several fun dips in the rapids. The choices seemed simple once they arrived. A spirit of some sort inhabited the body of one of the Seela. This character, Vuhl, advocated Indomitability’s desire to eradicate the seela and “end their suffering.” Undoubtedly, he sought only to free Indomitability. The Coming Storm wouldn’t even consider it. Zane dragged him out of his cave with the intent of submerging him and allowing himself to meet with the release he so actively sought for all Seela. In a moment, the fight began. Vuhl, or rather that-which-possessed-Vuhl, unleased a powerful field of psychic energy that caused the land itself to dance shimmer and spin out of control. As I understand it, Zane and Damner, who were in the thick of that field, had blood running out of their ears and eyes. To make matters worse, the enemy was capable of dominating their will and manipulating their actions. Compounded with all this was Kazyk’s brief appearance, a grab of Az, and then a fiery teleportation out of there, leaving the Storm down one member. I will need to document everything that this Vuhl threw at them, for not only did it nearly kill them, but I’m sure that they’ll meet him or more of his kind again.
It would seem that whatever being it was, it could be contained in a physical, substantial state by the Song of Forms. Hopefully one of them has learned it from the Seela.
From there, my former companions gathered some information from the locals and decided that their best course of action would be to meet with the “soul” of the forest: the dryad Timbre. To get there though was no small feat. Half-consumed by madness and grief, the only way they could get close to her was to bring her a token of her lost love, Anyariel. This they obtained from a nymph-gone-hag named Gwenvere on the south shore of the lake after finally convincing her of their intentions to stop the endless fire. The hag had been coveting a lock of hair from her unrequited love, Anyariel. Jealousy was dispelled, Gwenvere realized her duty to Lake Seela, and the group was given the lock of hair to bring to Timbre.
The dryad was found weeping in a combination of despair and the never-ending agony of conflagration. Again, my allies persuaded her to help and she revealed some important information. So long as a part of her willow tree remained alive, so might the Seela who were born from it (which in turn was born from a gold dragon somehow). It would seem that Indomitability was pinned under the lake by a sword made of wood from the willow tree. Hence, so long as the sword bonded with someone, the Seela would survive regardless of the fate of the trees of Inendotdar. And so the plan was hatched…
Ozric had the remaining Seela survivors line up along the shore to sing en masse as one chorus. Empowered by a boon from Gwenvere, the Coming Storm swam out into the water, quick as fishes. The sword was to be extracted by Zane as the others assumed a flanking position. Indomitability, in the form of a stag, never had a chance. In less than half a minute, it was over. Kazyk chose that moment to appear, sending his formless lemurs against the Seela, but seeing the great fire spirit dispatched with little wounds to show for it, the devil wisely surrendered. Az’s location was given to the party by Kazyk, and he explained that with the forest now able to burn its course, he would be free of his contract (a little flaw in the wording, it would seem).
It was a night of merriment fueled by the joy of freedom, Ozric’s endless flagon, and the apparently true characteristic of the fae to lack in modesty and inhibitions. Perhaps Az was toying with me or perhaps he was bitter since he was busy recovering, but based on what I heard of the celebrations, I wonder if half-Seela children will have been conceived that night. I shudder at the thought given my companions’ dwarven, orcan, and halfling composition.
So what now? Well, clearly the road to Seaquen is now open though I wonder if they will take the Eastern Way or the Western. I will follow behind them, but without any cooling draughts, I doubt I’ll be able to catch up until they’ve reached the town. Still, I’ve told Az through a sending ritual about my mentor at Lyceum, Lee Sidoneth. I’m certain he will help them get an audience at the school if the mages there don’t immediately let them in with the Ragesian secrets they carry. Still, it’s a trek yet to get to Seaquen. The lands they pass through are far from safe, particularly the swamp that fills the peninsula to the west of the town itself. But destiny has brought together their team and if they have conquered the Forest Fire of Inendotdar, I’m sure they will be safe.
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