Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 31

Dear Journal,

What an exciting day! Words cannot express the wondrous sights I have experienced today, but I suppose they will have to do. I sit now, having tended to my meditations and prayers as the others finish their much-needed rest. Startling ghostly forms appear and disappear, apparently tending to the job of excavating this cavern. At first I was fearful, but these apparitions, if that is what they are, pay us no attention as they silently swing their pickaxes and carry away bits of stone.

I must pace myself, for much is to be said of today's events. The wicked Tear of Ioun is no more, as is the sickness it had inflicted upon me. My hands appear pristine and smooth, free of those wretched boils. My hair, too, has returned to its previous golden splendor, now falling below my shoulders once again.

For we have stood in the presence of the gods themselves, and they have cast their blessings upon us. While these blessings and the destruction of the tear are a fantastic turn of events, they did not come without a hefty price.

We embarked early through Estevan's portal to the Elemental Chaos, appearing on barren, cracked soil at the foot of a flaming mountain. In the distance, all around us, stood molten pools of lava. The sky above us appeared tumultuous and dangerous as lighting darted amongst swirling, colorful clouds. Though the thunder boomed every few seconds, the atmosphere was relatively calm compared to our first venture to this dangerous plane. Far beyond the magma pools came a lumbering, but active thunderhead whose thunderous emanations became louder and louder as it approached. Alyana was the first to tell us that the ominous formation was making a beeline for the fiery crag upon which we now stood and the compass's needle was following the cloud as it approached.

Hastily we made our way up the steep slope, making clever use of our rope to support each other. Lucky for me, I have my boots which cling to surfaces with ease, and my connection to the Feywild persisted, allowing me to slip from ledge to ledge along this treacherous path.

We later came to a wide ledge, allowing us to take a moment to sit and catch our breath, but it appeared we had stumbled upon the home of a fire giant. Our smoldering foe called out to us in a language we did not know, brandishing an enormous sword in an obvious attempt to intimidate us. We would have none of it. Our attacks came too quickly for the giant to gain the upper hand, and eventually, with a forceful ray of radiant light, I managed to knock the behemoth from the ledge, sending him crashing upon the stoney outcroppings below until he came to rest beside a large cave mouth, which I assume must have been his home. As the crippled giant began to drag himself into the cave, Alyana fired a single shot which sent our injured adversary to his final resting place.

As we topped the crag's peak, the thunderhead rolled in right over us. Winds howled and lightning crashed as we clung to the rope which held us all together. The tumult was brief, though, and as the wall of cloud swept past us, we were left staring at an immense, floating orb which shone as bright as the moon through a thin cloud of shattered rock.

Surprisingly, the object began pulling us towards it, lifting us gently from the mountaintop. As we neared the sphere, it quickly grew larger and larger, exposing a scorched and barren landscape as it quickly stretched below us as far as the eye could see. Whatever force drew us to this body reoriented us to land safely on our feet. The Luminous Body, as it turned out, was quite ironically named. For the object shone in the swirling sea of elemental energy, but once on its surface, the terrain was bleak and grim. Petrified trees and an assortment of small, grey stones lay scattered about the landscape along with the occasional skeletal remains of a large beast.

We decided to travel towards an area of ruined stone structures in the near distance. Upon searching these ruins, we came to a darkened shaft guarded by a single stone statue of a frog-like creature. This statue turned out to be a creature under magical influence, slowly succumbing to petrification. We attempted to stave off the magical malady, but were unsuccessful. At the last instant, the creature shrieked loudly, echoing all around and down into the shaft, leaving us startled. We stood for a moment, weapons drawn, ready for whatever would be alerted by this petrified beast, but nothing came.

Our descent into the shaft led us to the battle we expected above. More large frog-like beasts set upon us as we set foot in a darkened subterranean room. It was now that Talos recalled that these were Slaads, plague-carrying toad-beasts bent on spreading chaos about the realms. Unfortunately these beasts caught us by surprise, and seemed unaffected by the lack of light in the room, so our ensuing skirmish was difficult, but we managed to scrape by.

The Slaads were attempting to get into a large set of stone doors, whose intricate carvings had eroded over centuries, or even millennia, of wear. Upon inspection, Elwoz was again stricken by celestial visions, saying that he could see divine power concentrated into a orb. The door was magically warded, but stood no match against my arcane spell-casting. Channeling the natural magical energy of my surroundings, I was able to dispel the locking spell.

A thick mist, teaming with necrotic energy, boiled out of the chamber as the stone doors slowly slid open. Within the large chamber, the walls caught our attention. One had the skeletal remains of what we think is Torhana Inksole petrified and embedded into the smooth stone surface. Opposite this wall was a reflective surface which emitted conflicting magical energies, seemingly good and evil at once. The third wall, facing us as we entered, was but worked stone, but had four framed arches which seemed to have been excavated from the earth.

Talos boldly approached the reflective wall, reaching out to investigate its surface, but was rendered unconscious as he made contact, and a petrifying force began crawling down his arm. Frantically, Elwoz and I attempted our healing and arcane magic to reverse this process and were able to rip Talos free from this peril.

It was then that the wise paladin, now conscious yet barely shaken, reached within his pack and drew forth the Tear of Ioun. Quickly, Talos pressed the tear against the mirror wall and tore his hand back before the magic crept up the tear to his hand. We then stepped back and watched as the tear was overwhelmed by the reflective surface, then shattered, filling the chamber with glittering shards of dust. As I fell to my knees in joy and the others cheered, Without stepped up to the wall. Before we could ask him what he was doing, he held out his dark orb and hypnotically held it to the surface just as Talos had with the Tear. Without stood motionless, eyes blasting forth rays of light which illuminated the room fully. We squinted both from the instant rush of light and the anticipation of the orb, too, shattering into dust.

No such explosion came. The orb sank into the wall, turning the reflective surface into a rippling silver fluid which turned to an image of four figures. Instantly it was obvious who these four figures were.

The first figure, a beautiful female human clad in a white tunic stood before us, looking down with pleasant, but stern green eyes. Her blonde hair, tied up in beaded braids, floated around her as if she were submerged in a gentle current of water. This pleasing image was clearly that taken on by the goddess of the wilderness and sea, Melora.

The next image, one of an equally striking female elf with beautiful blue eyes, stood in a blue flowing dress. Her brown hair, held with a modest green headband, fell behind her,disappearing behind her thin frame. This gorgeous elven avatar was that of Sehanine, patron deity of the elves.

Standing beside her was an image I recognized quite well. The same eladrin male figure I saw so many years ago in the forest. The lightly armored soldier, with longsword on his side and chainmail sleeves poking out from the sides of his star burst tabard, wore his sapphire-gemmed circlet crown in sharp contrast to his solid gold-colored eyes. His snowy white hair was cut modestly at his shoulders, perfectly framing his pensive countenance.

The last of the four stood proudly, towering over the other three figures. The plate-covered dragonborn's visage was hard to discern. Only his piercing eyes, their thin pupils flanked by an even thinner orange iris, were revealed by the thick covering of armor that obviously hid a mighty frame. Bahamut, son of Io, stood before us, leaning upon a massive battleaxe.

As I and Talos fell to our knees in reverence, the four spoke to us in perfect unison in the language of the gods, appearing to me as clear and fluent elvish. They show us an image of Orcus, sitting upon a throne in Icaria, ruling over legions of undead, all roaming freely about the material planes. The prince of the undead sat next to an immense primordial being, obviously displaying an alliance between the two. They warned that a war will come, and the gods defeated. Worst of all, Sehanine will fall. The land on which we were brought within the luminous body is a vestige of an apocalyptic possible future, existing outside of time.

They explain that Orcus will attempt to trigger chaotic and destructive events upon the mortal realms, distracting agents of the deities, leaving them vulnerable to the plans of the demon prince. He aims to take over the underworld, taking the souls from the Raven Queen and ruling all of existence with an unending army of the dead.

We were given the task to defend the planes against these attacks, and warn the Raven Queen of the impending disaster. They explained that their power is weak, so they had to channel it into a material being, Without. His birth and course of existence, including the orb he carried, was a plan to gather us chosen warriors together and guide us to this location. Unfortunately, his mission was completed and must now return to the celestial realm with the gods.

As the image of the deities disappeared and the wall turned to cold, blank stone, Without exploded in an eruption of divine light and energy, which we all felt channeled into our bodies. All that remained of our dear friend was his last, lingering word, "Ow."

It was then I noticed my hair had returned, and the four stone archways lit up, each holding a portal with a repeating image.

The first portal we recognized as a temple of Bahamut. Around it stood soldiers wearing Talos's symbol of the Vanguard of the Dragon. Though the image was silent, they were obviously shouting to each other, drawing their weapons, and filing into position in preparation of something. Then, the image flashes and shows demons pouring in on all sides of the fighters, overwhelming them and tearing them apart. After that, the image repeats.

The second portal showed what I recognized as the city of Mithrendain in the Feywild, the pride of eladrin civilization. The image of the city council members arguing with each other, pointing fingers and yelling as a few storm away fades to that of eladrin soldiers fighting foulspawn and feydark creatures in the streets, as they burst forth from the ground below. The image then faded to these creatures roaming the streets among corpses of my people before starting over.

The third image was that of undead thralls burning and poisoning a swampy forest while staving off a futile resistance by a primitive and tribal assortment of creatures Elwoz recognized as residents of Big Root, his home. This image then shows spirits of nature, emerging from the waters and attacking every living thing in sight, natives and undead, before that image repeats itself.

Lastly, we see Corath and Lim'Shargoth among others in what appears to be the Denmok palace, standing around a map, shouting orders to soldiers that run in and out of the room. That turns then to demonic and undead creatures pouring in from the windows and doors as soldiers are cut down, and finally Lim'Shargoth and Corath, fighting back to back, are consumed by the wave of monstrous abominations.

Shaken by these images, we talked at length about what portal to take first and what the consequences may be of the order in which we take. We concluded from our meeting with the gods that they would aid us in our ability to travel to each of these lands and save these people. It stood to reason, then, that we should take our rest, and when we arise, pick a portal and aid whichever peoples we encounter first.

I doubt the others are sleeping well. I know that I am apprehensive, but I am also honored and excited. The gods themselves summoned us to aid them in their divine battle. There is no doubt that we will be successful, knowing that we are chosen warriors of the gods. Though I am sure of our abilities, my mind is plagued by images of snow, fleeing, and regret. Perhaps it is the emotional toll of some of these images or perhaps the loss of our friend, Without, but I must retain my determination and faith.

We shall begin our journey soon, travelling to these lands and protecting these people from the evil, vanquishing it and thwarting the wicked plans of Orcus and his primordial allies. Praise be to Corellon; praise be to Sehanine; praise be to Melora; and praise be to Bahamut! They have trusted in our might and we shall not let them down!

Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 30

Dear Journal,

Whatever it was in that bizarre concoction Elwoz devised is doing its job well. I happily gulped down another bottle of it this morning. This, coupled with the fact that we are closer than ever to destroying the Tear of Ioun, has left me feeling as good as I have since we found the tear. I still have these damned blisters on my hands, but I am rejuvenated. I can feel the stubble of my hair growing back. I may speak with Elwoz on how to speed up this regrowth process later. How awful it is that a vessel of His divine power appears so weak and sickly!

Our first order of business today was to appease Elwoz's spiritual needs. He spied a garden on the city map and wanted to commune with nature. When we arrived, we saw that this was perhaps the only place in the entire city that was not overrun with the razor vine. Instead, about a dozen warm and friendly centaurs tended to a garden which stretched a little less than a city block. Now I have met centaurs before, but they have typically been reserved, surly, or downright aggressive, so I was initially apprehensive. Elwoz, however, wasted no time talking about spirits and potions, much to the centaurs' enjoyment. I suppose I should no longer be amazed at the sights I see in Sigil.

We sat with them and engaged in a ritual, meant to open one's mind and commune with the natural spirits, which consisted of smoking a sacred herb and sitting around in a circle. We sat for quite a time, gazing off into the distance and enjoying the lush foliage so alien to this gnarled and twisted landscape. Somewhere amidst the giggling and exclamations of disbelief of the size of his hands, Elwoz claimed to have made direct contact with the spirit world. He described at length his experience, but I feel the ceremonial herb we inhaled dulled our memories, for the rest of our visit with the centaurs is a complete, though pleasant, blur of fragmented images. One such image, mentioned again and again by Elwoz is that of a barren wasteland covering a distant plain.

After our commune with nature, our band elected to venture out in search of the Lady's Library, which Estevan suggested as a lead on our quest to find the Luminous Body. It was, after all, the path of least resistance, as our other two leads seemed to suggest inevitable contention. The library was not to be paid. The library was not to be convinced. It simply offered all that it had to anyone with the time to sift through the sea of tomes contained within.

The library was staggeringly large for such a cramped city. We learned that the Luminous Body was a mystical world, floating alone somehow within the elemental chaos. Its location, however, is ever changing. As I poured over a series of notes written by a Torhana Inksoul, I learned that there existed a magical compass which, imbued with arcane energy, linked to the pointed out the location of the Luminous Body as a compass would point north. Unfortunately, the library had little information on this subject, so we were forced to continue our search. Oh, how I'd love to spend a century in this place discovering what in the nine hells Sigil is. Who or what made this place? Who or what is the Lady of Pain? What happens when you dig straight down, or can you? I'm afraid these questions would have to wait, for once we had exhausted the material by Ms. Inksoul and the other relevant books, we still needed more information.

Opting to seek out one of two contacts Estevan, we decided to head to the Stick's Oarsman where we were told to find The Rule of Three. As we walked the streets, a voice beckoned to us in our minds, drawing us to a dimly-lit alleyway. As Sigil's ubiquitous rain fell around us, rats scurried out from every nook and crevice to assemble into a form of a brain. A voice emitted from this form into our minds, warning of the rise of Orcus and pleading with us to ride to the task of defeating him and keeping his army of undead in the abyss. Little more was said before the entity scattered into the sewers. Alyana followed silently for a while, but returned, fearing dangers which may lie in the dark depths of the sewer systems. The entire ordeal was quite confusing, but I suppose it's a noble quest given to us by the brain-rat-creature. First, though, we must destroy this damned Tear of Ioun.

We finally arrived at the Stick's Oarsman. It was here that Talos, Alyana, and I decided to enter together, to reduce the odds of an altercation because the Stick's Oarsman was quite the questionable establishment. Daggers, knives, and glass protruded from the wall, tables had broomhandles and bones as legs - no doubt shoddy repairs after brawls - and most patrons, though spanning the cosmos in origin, shared a similar gruff and battle-worn countenance. Though little attention was paid to us other than a few disapproving sneers, we were able to navigate the crowd easily to finally arrive at a corner table where sat a sagely, smirking Githzerai. It was almost as if he was expecting us.

We explained to the Githzerai that we were seeking the Luminous Body, and mentioned the information we dug up in the Lady's Library. It was clear that he was already well-versed in the knowledge we had just recently accumulated. At first, The Rule of Three's smirk widened and he refused to help. Getting impatient, we explained the dangers of the Tear of Ioun, and how, in the wrong hands, this could be used as a tool to shake the planes to their very cores. Such chaos would inevitably spead to Sigil, beckoning the wrath of the Lady of Pain.

At the invocation of that name, the tavern went silent and all eyes turned to us. With a wave of his hand, The Rule of Three dismissed the stares and sent the patrons back to their boisterous conversations. He pulled from his pockets a compass, saying he would be willing to part with it if we were to complete three tasks for him. The needle of the compass just spun and spun, emitting a slight hum. As he explained his requests, he pocketed the compass and stood before us. It was obvious he felt very safe in this establishment.

After his explanation, Alyana, who had until now remained silent, refused his requests, grabbed us by the arms, and left the tavern hastily. Once outside with the others, she confessed that she had picked the pockets of the cunning and quizzical Rule of Three. Our key to the Luminous Body was in our possession! How proud I was of our brave thief! I shudder to think of the disaster that would have ensued had she been caught in the act.

With that, we made haste to Estevan's office, for it wouldn't be long until The Rule of Three discovered his loss and took action. He was excited to hear of our

acquisition, and promised to talk to his contacts within the city to keep The Rule of Three off our tails. Estevan asked for the compass and took us to a room adjacent to his office where a neatly etched runic circle was drawn upon the floor. He claims he would like to go to one of his favorite surveying points near most of Sigil's portals to the elemental chaos. Elwoz elected to remain in the office as we went through to accompany Estevan and see what wonders the elemental chaos held.

What wonders, indeed.

As Estevan activated his portal, we again found ourselves flung through the ether, appearing upon a floating chunk of rock during the most vicious and turbulent storms I have ever witnessed. Estevan held strong as he squinted and watched the compass needle as it slowed. All the while, we gazed out at crackling clouds and floating chunks of stone and dirt, some almost stationary, others flinging in and out of sight amidst the surrounding storm clouds.

Winds assailed us, knocking several of us off our feet. Lighting crashed upon our floating island, and severe bolts of cold energy slammed into us. Truly we were humbled by the incredible power held within the elemental chaos. Just as we were nearing exhausting from our constant dance to avoid the barrage of ice and lighting, Estevan shouted that he knew where the compass pointed and gathered us back to the safety of his offices where he returned the compass and offered his help in the coming day.

I feel this is it, Journal. We are to stay again tonight at the Battlements, care of Estevan's coin, and guaranteed the safety his reputation offers. Tomorrow he will show us the way to the region of the elemental chaos which will lead us to the Luminous Body. Here we shall encounter the entity or tools needed to destroy this damned tear once and for all. Who knows, perhaps this is the wretched implement needed to bring about the reign of the Demon Prince we are being continuously warned about. It then should be a good thing that we destroy it and thwart his alleged plans. I can feel the voice of the Tear of Ioun quiet, its hold on my mind and body weakening significantly. By His grace, Journal, we shall bring about an end to this evil relic which has plagued me all these days. Then, we shall return to our homes triumphant and hailed as heroes, or chosen again to cleanse another land of its evil stain!

Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 29

Dear Journal,

The release from my trance this morning was quite violent. I sprang to my feet and flew out to the deck where I nearly toppled over the railing as I heaved up all that was within me. To top it off, as Mia attempted to hold my hair back, it came out in her hand in clumps. The tear has stricken me with a grave illness, it seems. I have previously dismissed the boils it has brought upon my hands and the constant barrage of disturbing and mocking thoughts. I should have taken action sooner, I admit, but I had thought myself doing well to fight off this malady on my own. Elwoz took it upon himself to concoct some bizarre elixir after watching my condition deteriorate over the past month. He gave it to me several hours ago as we took our rest. He offered to explain the process of its creation, but after witnessing the churning and bubbling liquid which emitted a foul odor, I politely declined and muscled down the thick sludge. Curiously enough, it tasted like cheese. He says I must take another dose tomorrow and we shall watch my condition closely.

We caused quite a stir as our unconventional airship descended upon the city of Merkemia. Our ship, though repaired and flight worthy, showed obvious scars from battle and was still adorned with the severed head of an unfortunate fomorian, which has been stripped almost to the bone by birds. Guards scurried about like little ants below us, and we watched as they prepared their ballistae and catapults. It was not until Talos was within shouting range that he called out, settling the distressed guardsmen.

As soon as we disembarked, Talos and Alyana made our intentions to meet with the king known, and we were ushered off to the palace, down side streets so as to not cause a commotion, finally coming to the palace tower where we made our way up, expected of course, for word had been shouted from messenger to messenger before we left our ship. I was somewhat excited, for the highest ranking officer I had met in this city was Commander Joka, the abrasive dragonborn who commissioned me to purge the remaining undead from the ruins far outside the city walls before I met the 42^nd.

We were led to the tower’s uppermost chamber where stood King Argamir and his advisor Zydrathis. This chamber must have been where Zydrathis studied, for the walls were covered with bookshelves which held tomes, scrolls, vials, and curious artifacts. Argamir was dressed quite modestly for royalty, his garb hinting at his military discipline more than his social status. Zydrathis, of course, wore the more ostentatious, colorful linens of magic-wielders who find themselves in these types of prominent positions. There is something comforting in the realization that this is not a behavior reserved for humans alone.

Both men were kind and genuinely pleased to see us. Word of mouth, and a bit of scrying magic, no doubt, had made our exploits known to the king far in advance of our arrival. He was quick to congratulate and thank us for dealing with the Dreknar threat.

Zydrathis was eager to see the artifacts we had gathered in our journeys. We followed him to a nearby table where he had cleared room and etched intricate runes. Within the runic designs, he gathered our crystal fragments and began to carefully and deliberately rearrange them several times. After a few silent minutes, and numerous pauses to reference a few books upon his shelves, he managed to arrange the pieces in such a way that they melded together, creating a strange, incomplete raven skull-shaped figure. Noticeably relaxed, which confused the nine hells out of me, Zydrathis began discussing with us the pressing need to destroy the Tear of Ioun as he sprinkled pinches of colored dust atop the artifact and periodically mumbled incantations from a book he carried as he circled the table. He told us that we must seek out the city of Trade Gate, which Talos recalled to be a distant town made famous by an enormous stone archway where, historically, many traders met to peddle exotic wares. An inter-dimensional trader named Estevan would be able to give us advice on how to do this, he claimed. We were to find him somewhere in the city. He claimed he wouldn’t be hard to find, for he always finds out when he is being sought out, and should realize our peaceful intentions.

His work finished, Zydrathis handed me the newly-formed raven skull, a magic wand, and a scroll. He said this skull is a vital tool in the fight against the forces of evil, and that the wand and scroll were to be used if the artifact saw the effects of a corrupted force.

We spoke with Argamir, indulging him with tales of how the newer members of the 42^nd came to find themselves here. As we began to say our goodbyes, expecting to be dismissed, Argamir insisted on a final word. He thanked us again for what we had done for the kingdom, but claimed there is no reasonable excuse to demand more from the 42^nd. After all, the only current citizen of the Merkemian kindgom and its lands is Talos. He pledged his support for the fledgling Denmok nation, and his alliance with Deisa’s Moraldrum dwarves. Our endeavors, Argamir claimed, now reach beyond the borders of Merkemia, and we should be released to do good as we saw fit over all the lands. With that, he officially dissolved the 42^nd Adventuring Company, but admitted the name was now that of legend, and would not be easily shaken. As a last gesture of support, and gratefulness to Talos for his continued support for the kingdom, Argamir presented Talos with a beautiful pair of diamond-studded bracers in addition to the monetary compensation he offered to us all.

After we were dismissed, I felt it necessary to relinquish the Tear of Ioun to Talos, for I barely made it down the tower’s winding staircase, and I could hear the mocking glee the wretched stone felt at my suffering. Thankfully, my reptilian friend took the burden without a moment’s hesitation.

We had barely stepped foot beyond the palace gates before we were approached by a young and strikingly attractive teifling girl with a curious accent. Nira, as she claimed to be called, delivered to us a message from her employer, Estevan. He wished an audience with us at the Wild Boar, a reasonably civilized tavern within the city. She promised us there would be much “jink” to be made and “chant” to be heard (terms we would be quite familiar with by the end of the day). Her brief mission complete, she took her leave, only looking back to catch our stares as she moved her hips and tail provocatively.

Zydrathis did not lie. We agreed that our next move should be a meeting with this Estevan, who was looking for to a meeting with us as we were with him. Talos, though, wished to stop by the Temple of the Vanguard to visit his order. I elected to follow him while the others went about their business, agreeing to meet at the Wild Boar.

We met an old and wise clergyman named Draco or Dragos or something like that. I have met few dragonborn in my life, but they all seemed to name their offspring some derivative of the common term “dragon”. It’s hard to keep their silly named straight. Oh, what a joke it would be if we bred little “He-“ and “She-ladrins”.

Talos elected to leave the tear in their care, making me quite nervous. After all, the allure of the tear’s power may be too much for all but the most iron-willed. Even then, the tear may exact its wrath upon them. They took it to their clerics for observation to determine if they knew a way to destroy it. They agreed to keep it in good hands until we returned from our meeting with Estevan.

We met later with the others at the Wild Boar where we were directed down a long hallway to a small room where say the largest and blue-est ogre I had ever laid eyes on. According to his messenger, Estevan was an oni, and a powerful mage at that. I had never met an oni before, but I knew them from ancient texts and stories which described them as a demented and evil race. This oni was quite strange in that regard, as he wore a soft smile and greeted us warmly. He told us he ran an operation known as the Planar Consortium. Making it clear that he knew us and what we did, he got right to the point. His deliveries have been disrupted by bandits and sabotage for weeks. His organization is providing supplies needed for the Festival of Doors and he was expecting something very bad to happen. He claimed this disruption of the festival would doom the City of Doors to the wrath of the Lady of Pain. In his desperation, he asked that we investigate by meeting with his associate named Fesdon Crale at his shop in Merkemia. The eccentric, yet pragmatic, oni then tossed a few of us an astral diamond each, claiming the answers we seek and more payment like this await us once his worries are put to rest.

So as quickly as we entered, we were back out in the city with instructions to the Arcane Emporium, Fesdon’s shop of magical goods. A short walk later we stood face to face with this alleged friend of Estevan, a short, grinning, grey-haired human. For merely 100 gold pieces, a discount he claimed, he would give us a map and a key to Sigil, where we would learn more about the trade disruptions. He quickly went over the map with us, pointing to the location of the portal to Sigil which would be activated by this key, a plank of wood with runic carvings. Seeing our dismay at the isolated alley pointed out on the map, Fesdon reassured us that the portal must be hidden, for we wouldn’t want just anyone wandering between the planes. At that, he eagerly sent us on our way.

We were conveniently located near the airship and the Temple of the Vanguard, so we let our crew know we would be tied up here for a few days and to make themselves comfortable. We then stopped by the temple to retrieve the Tear of Ioun. The elder dragon told us to seek out the “Luminous Body” which held the power to destroy the relic, but this was all the information they were able to determine from their readings.

Finally, we arrived at a dark and dirty alley. As we neared the dead end, the key pulsed with energy. Suddenly, we found ourselves in complete darkness. Alyana, sensing the air pressure, determined that we were far underground. I fumbled around in my pack for a sunrod, which I tossed out at our feet, illuminating the small room we stood in. This room had only a small fountain upon the wall behind us, but the room opened out into a crypt of some sort ahead. As our eyes adjusted to the light, we saw several sarcophagi towards the end of the hallway, beyond a row of columns.

A figure, covered in tattered wrappings, stood at the opposite end of this room, and held up a talisman of Zehir, a well-known evil deity of serpents. Talos looked back at us to identify the creature, muttering “Yuan-Ti.” As he began to hiss his vile prayer, I took action. A divine light blinded the beast just as plague beetles began digging their way up through the sand at our feet. Luckily, he hadn’t the concentration to complete the incantation, and the insects scurried away as we burst from our small chamber into battle. Unfortunately, Talos slipped into a crack in the sandy floor and was trapped.

Ghostly apparitions entered the fray from two hidden side chambers, one spirit appearing as a giant spider. Though Talos struggled to free himself, we still held the advantage over these monsters. The undead to not last long against the cleansing light of Corellon, and ethereal beings are, at the very best, on par with the hordes of spirits Elwoz calls forth, or the unpredictable energy Without wields. In a few short moments, the spirits were cast back into the void and the Yuan-ti mummy lied in a heap.

After freeing Talos, we sensed a magical energy building slowly in the fountain near where we arrived. With Diesa’s help, we determined it was a portal back to Merkemia, but the power to transport us had to build back up, and would take some time.

Searching the rest of this tomb turned up the body of what we determined was the real Fesdon Crale. The man at the Arcance Emporium was an imposter, meant to dispose of us. On him was a note describing the attempted disruptions of the festivities in Sigil. Since we had time to kill while the fountain recharged its magical energy, I elected to speak with Fesdon’s corpse. Conjuring the arcane magics, I commanded the body to tell us what it knew.

We learned that Fedson had discovered the conspiracy to disrupt trade routes through the city of Trade Gate by a shapeshifting being made of beetles named Arthani, which we determined was most likely the imposter we encountered at the Arcane Emporium. The corpse told us the key to Sigil would be the phrase “The Center of All Things”. With that, the magic left the corpse.

After the fountain had recharged, we returned to Merkemia where we rushed back to Fesdon’s store in hopes of catching Arthani and avenging Fesdon’s murder. However, we were too late. Arthani had long since abandoned the store. We scoured the building for clues, but came up empty-handed other than discovering a ritual amongst his wares that might prove beneficial in the future.

From here, we made haste back to Estevan to tell him what we had learned. Thought distraught at the loss of a colleague, we convinced him to come with us to Trade Gate to put an end to this threat and avenge Fesdon’s death. Luckily, Estevan frequently travels using portals and guided us through one to Trade Gate.

We appeared next to a humble, rickety tavern where I proceeded to throw up violently. The sickness had not left me, and the journey there upset my stomach quite a bit. Beside the tavern door, paying no mind to our arrival sat a sleeping man. After unsuccessfully attempting to wake the man, Estevan peered inside the tavern to see all patrons asleep. We concluded that someone came here and drugged the people of Trade Gate, either with potions or magic. Scouring the area, Alyana caught a glimpse of a dim, pulsing glow in the distance, coupled with random crackling lights. We hurry down the street to a long dirt road where we saw the great stone structure described sitting out in the distance.

Hastening our pace, we came upon scattered and ravaged wagons, upon two of which each sat an Eladrin male. Along the trail to the arch were a series of poles which eminated the crackling lights, each of which were guarded by a small group of cyclopes. Directly below the arch stood a female eladrin in a beautifully flowing purple gown, reading from a scroll.

As we approached, one of the Eladrin, a face I recalled from my past as that of Thesselonious, attacked Talos with necrotic energy, warning us to turn back. As we retaliated, the other Eladrin rider and the cyclopes joined in the fray. Instantly, Without held out the orb which, not surprisingly, flashed with a light brighter than the brightest star, blinding every living thing in the vicinity.

When our vision returned, Thesselonious was upon me, and I had to flee from his attacks. There was nothing more I would have liked to do than to strike him down, but my usefulness in this battle was severely hampered by my illness, and I was not able to stand evenly against him. He and the other Eladrin rider were what we call “Lurkers”, undead fey creatures who ignore death while clinging to an old grudge. Unfortunately, I shall not entertain you, Journal, with this particular grudge. Suffice it to say, it is over.

The battle quickly turned in our favor as Talos called out to focus on the female who, as it turned out, was a lamia, a shape-shifting fey creature comprised of insects. This was Arthani, the one who killed and impersonated Fesdon and sent us barreling into a trap. She tried desperately to continue reading her scroll to finish a spell, no doubt. She seemed to be feeding from the poles surrounding the area and emitting a sinister magic. So I took it upon myself to rip one out of the ground, which disrupted her spell completely, bringing her nefarious plans to a halt.

Alyana disposed of Thesselonious, Talos dealt with the other lurker through a protective ward he placed upon me, and the cyclopes lay scattered about when Without convinced Arthani to surrender. She claimed her hand was guided by Tarvos, “The Demon Caller”. Unfortunately for her, magical fire still burned around her from the battle and overtook her.

Taking a minute to recover from the battle and the shock of seeing an old adversary, I rested beside a broken wagon as the others searched the grounds. Unfortunately, Thesselonious called out to me by name and I was forced to appease Without’s curiousity by telling my story. Perhaps, given the time, I may tell it again. I am blessed to have been so occupied over the many years since our last meeting that I did not reflect upon the event often.

Alyana found a clue amidst the fallen enemies. A flier for a place called The House of Song lay beside some of the lamia’s things, and upon it was written the name Tarvos.

Estevan nodded to Elwoz who spoke the words “The Center of All Things” which activated a portal within Trade Gate’s stone arches, like a thin, lavender curtain had been dropped. We stepped through, one by one, and as my boots touched the cobblestone of Sigil, vertigo once again took over and left me heaving. Estevan thanked us, but left for Sigil’s guild district to check up on his operations, but told us to seek out Tarvos and we would be repaid.

Of all the places to travel while I was ill, Sigil was probably the worst imaginable. I would have preferred to be upon the bobbing airship with Elwoz at the helm, slinging us from cloud to cloud. The ground here sloped upward until it made a ring above us, and did the same at a wider arc in the parallel direction. This city was a giant ring! Within the center of the loop orbited a thin mist and scattered dust from which it seemed to trickle down rain upon us. From cracks in the buildings and courtyards in this city grew an ugly greenish-brown thorny vine that seemed to be just as much a part of the architecture as the stone. Taking in this sight, I again went ill. It took all of us a minute to gain our composure in this whimsical place – all of us except for Without.

The halfling set off with us in tow. The city was crawling with creatures from all planes, simply going about their business. I witnessed a water elemental offer a friendly wave, answered by a Shadar-Kai necromancer who held three ghouls at the end of a leash. Elf and drow walked the streets without as much as a glance at each other. These sights, and countless more, were almost more dizzying that the bizarre terrain. Yet Without led us with a nonchalance which I found both comforting and terrifying at the same time. Elwoz, too, seemed less than surprised, though I imagine this may be the way he sees his surroundings at any given time.

We found a human man standing at a map kiosk outside an entrance to an inn built to look like a small fortress. The sign outside read: “The Battlements”. The man greeted us in the same strange accent as Nira, the teifling girl. The man was a guide, and told us there would be several guides scattered about the city in case we became disoriented or were in search of something specific. He told us we would find this House of Song in the Night Market. Apparently awestruck travelers like us are all too common in Sigil. So we grabbed a map and set out through the throng of creatures, none of which gave us more than a passing glance. For a few coins, the guide accompanied us to our destination, but found the House of Song deserted and dark. Confused, we began questioning the guide until Alyana stole our attention to let us know we were being followed by a shadowy figure, darting in and out of the crowds.

When we told the man we noticed we were being tailed, he became quite nervous. Pressing further, we were able to learn that it was Tarvos who was responsible for the tail, but he would say no more. Without tried to coax out more information with a charming lie, but when the guide refused, he lost his composure, leaping up in the guide’s face, screaming and shaking the terrified man and startling several passing bugbears with a thunderous bellow. The quivering man blurted that it was Tarvos that was behind the disruption in an effort to destroy Sigil by invoking the wrath of the Lady of Pain. He continued, saying that Tarvos, onto our efforts, abandoned the House of Song and was on his way to sabotage a shipment of cave fire wine to be used during the festival.

Satisfied with his confession, we dismissed the frightened guide. We were not about to take any rash actions in this unfamiliar place, and Without’s theatrics already attracted a number of uncomfortable stares. So we set out in search of Tarvos.

For a short time, we wandered the streets, gazing at the strange sights around us until we noticed a shifty-looking balgura standing in courtyard. As he gazed over the crowds, he saw us and shouted out a warning to Tarvos that we had arrived. We had stumbled into an ambush. The balgura, two demons, and two ogres burst into the courtyard, sending pedestrians fleeing in all directions. Some cast illusionary magic and slipped away, some floated up until they came to rest on the streets above us. Others cowered in vender stalls. Among the enemy stood who we discerned to be Tarvos, commanding the others to attack and protect him.

Throughout our fight the people and visitors of Sigil fled. Alyana and I were able to dance atop the buildings surrounding the courtyard, staying clear of the battle while Alyana and I distracted and confused the enemy. Eventually we prevailed, but Tarvos was able to flee in the confusion.

We acted quickly, Alyana and Diogi tracked Tarvos to a nearby warehouse. She broke in to have a look around, seeing Tarvos preparing several runic circles, obviously conducting some ritual to taint the goods within the warehouse. Alongside him stood an Immolith, a Needle Demon, and a couple of Vrocs watching while Tarvos spoke his dark incantation.

We stormed in, and immediately set ourselves upon Tarvos and his minions. Understanding the severity of the situation, we acted quickly to dispose of Tarvos and prevent him from completing his ritual. The other creatures fell quickly afterward.

Feeling satisfied, we decided to rejoin Esteban in the guild district. As we made our way there, we were passed by what the guides referred to as the “Daibus”. They are statuesque, floating humanoids who work for the Lady of Pain. We witnessed them head for the square where we first battled Tarvos, and very swiftly set to work cleaning the area. They righted spilled vendor kiosks, picked up scattered goods, and repaired buildings which took damage during our fight.

When we returned to Esteban's office, he was elated to hear that we had saved his business and saved Sigil from the wrath of the Lady of Pain. He offered us a night of rest at the Battlements, near where we entered Sigil, promising our safety there.

We inquired again about our urge to venture to the Luminous Body. Esteban said that he knew of three leads in our quest. First, we could go to the Stick's Oarsmen, a notoriously rowdy tavern, and seek out the Rule of Three. He may know about the luminous body. Second, Shimeshka, or “The Maurader”, whos information will cost us dearly. Lastly, he suggested that the Lady's Library may contain some literature to aid us in locating the Luminous Body.

We thanked him and set out to the Battlements where we now rest. I was in a hurry to write this day’s notes, so I have yet to see to my own rest. Tomorrow, we seek out the Luminous Body, and hopefully set out to destroy this blasted Tear once and for all. I shall have another dose of Elwoz’s medicine in the morning, so I hope I will fight off this sickness so that the tear may see my health return before it faces its destruction.

I pray until then that the guiding light of Corellon finds me in this place, wherever it is.

Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 28

Dear Journal,

Another gorgeous day has greeted us on our journey. Corath tells us with certainty that come the next dawn, we shall be setting foot on the cold stone of Merkemia's streets. With such little time left, I shall go ahead and finish the tale of our time in Moraldrum.

As we made our descent onto Moraldrum's western tower, a great, adorned pyre sat atop the other tower, for it appeared that the noble King Thonin finally succumb to the concentrated poison which coursed through his veins for so long. It is unfortunate that the king did not live to see his people rise up in victory against the Dreknar forces, yet I know in my heart that his spirit remained until the last Dreknar soldier fell or fled in fear. I dare not question the wisdom of the hour Moradin chose to take his child home. Instead, I rejoice at the thought that amongst the halls of Moradin, Thonin is proudly boasting the triumph of his kin.

The mountain pass was dotted with the bustling of tiny figures rushing about the blood-soaked soil, tossing upon bonfires any debris found as well as the corpses of fallen enemy soldiers. Stovokor's men were put to use rounding up groups of prisoners and standing guard as the dwarves built up a makeshift prison camp around them.

Grumsh met us atop the tower as our twin vessels came to a stop, and we exchanged details of our separate efforts. Cheers rippled through the mountainside as the closest dwarves heard of Dreknar's demise, and passed it on to others who, in turn, passed it on further. Soon the mountains rang out in dwarven song, for in one battle, the dwarves had aided in the complete destruction of an evil empire. Moraldrum was now safe.

Through the good news, Grumsh still had immediate concerns of unruly prisoners, injured soldiers, and damage to the structure of this great fortress. We were quick to offer our services, but Gromsh was even quicker in giving us our cleanup orders, to which we were each ushered away to immediately. Elwoz, Diesa, and I found ourselves back in the infirmary, tending to the casualties of battle alongside a dozen or so clerics from both Moraldrum and Northwarden. The pace was initially frantic as we tried to save the most severely wounded before they could slip away, but eventually settled into a more relaxed routine once critical wounds were treated and the magical afflictions of others were identified and the effects in the process of reversal.

And so the day pressed on and, little by little, the wounded were mended or stabilized, though a few poor souls drifted into eternal slumber. As the number needing urgent or constant care dwindled, a number of clerics trickled out of the infirmary to see if there were any prisoners who needed care.

We then spread out - Elwoz, Diesa, and I - crossing paths with each other and the rest of the 42nd from time to time as we scurried in and out of the complex, helping where needed. I worked outside for a bit, which consisted mostly of scavenging anything of value from the dead, which were quite numerous, indeed! Piles sat in designated areas where say dwarves hard at work sorting the salvaged loot into separate carts to be hauled off to the armory, blacksmith, or treasury. I was able to gather a few paltry sacks of coin on my short search over the remains of a thick orc horde, which I took to drop off with the sorters. As I slung the pouches into the nearest sorting pile, I noticed a pair of gloves and bracers which not only complimented my attire, but emitted a magical energy indicating some unknown enchantment. I couldn't resist. Though the dwarves did not dispute my claim to these spoils, I felt compelled to leave behind a generous donation of coin in exchange.

As the sun began to set in the winter sky, I followed a herd of dwarves that was making its way back inside for the night. They led me down the torch-lit corridors of Moraldrum's under-city to a great meeting hall. The ornate wooden doors, each blazon with the standard of the dwarven city. Soldiers - dwarven, human, and elf alike - spilled out from the opened doors, some arguing, some laughing, and some singing. I gazed over the sea of mostly chest-high dwarves to see a boisterous gathering near the rear wall where gathered a crowd of soldiers around the 42nd and Baron Stovokor. I made my way across the room, getting nearly soaked from the sloshing beverages being passed and slung around the room. As I sat down at a table at the edge of the crowd around my friends, several dwarves were quick to set down several steins of mead before me. I was certain this was to be a long night.

Despite having one arm in a sling and his bare chest wrapped in bandages, the Baron Stovokor stood tall and proud as he commanded the attention of all around him as he boasted of the exciting and dangerous accomplishments of the 42nd. Standing at a height comparable to that of your average size human, Stovokor was quite short for his race, though you would never know from the stories told by those closest to him. They all seemed at ease as the charismatic baron called on them to chime in on the story he was telling. Even Corath accepted the spotlight at times, adding details or recalling names when prompted. I was able to quickly scribble down some of the tales told by the orators upon some loose paper I had in my pack. Perhaps I will share them here when I find the time. Mug after mug of the dwarven brew was passed around as the crowd cheered and slung back their mugs at every mention of the dwarven hero Terrion. Elwoz, holding a mug in each hand, seemed to cheer the loudest as he tilted back as much, if not more, than the dwarves he joined in this drinking game.

The stories became more unbelievable as the night wore on, eventually becoming muddled and distorted, losing cohesion with every foaming mug. The halls were still loud, but lacked the deafening roar it had earlier in the evening as many who joined in the festivities had fallen to the sleep brought on by excessive consumption. It was about this point in the evening when Talos finally noticed I had joined the crowd and was listening to the now slurring baron recount one of their many adventures. He gently pushed Stovokor in my direction, announcing my presence. The baron stumbled over as I rose from my seat. He clumsily extended his unsteady hand only inches from my face. Before I could accept his greeting, the baron's arm fell to his side and he emitted a thunderous belch, surely curling the hairs on my brow. With a drunken smirk, he closed his eyes and fell upon my table, splintering the base as he landed, snoring loudly. All those within sight burst into a celebratory roar as they tilted back their mugs. I looked to Talos, who had been joined by Alyana and Corath, and they only offered a smile and a shrug.

Alyana explained later that Stovokor often went out of his way to observe the customs of each place he visited. The dwarven game of drink was no exception. Surely his participation in what amounts to a holy ritual to the dwarves and his sacrifice upon the battlefield has secured him a great position of honor amongst the dwarves of Moraldrum for many generations.

It was the end of the evening for us, it seemed, for even Elwoz had appeared to have had enough of the drink. The now belligerent elf was leaning on a table, pointing his finger and cursing at one of many support beams of the hall, accusing it of stealing his socks. I elected to take my leave as Talos and Without moved to escort Elwoz from the room as he threatened the wrath of the dire chinchilla and volcano pig upon a reflection of himself in a decorative mirror upon the wall.

The next morning, we were treated to a hearty breakfast in the same meeting hall which, by the work of whoever cleaned during the night, was completely devoid of any hint of the previous night's festivities.

Bahamut again came before Talos in his dreams, stressing the need to destroy the Tear of Ioun. He also presented the paladin with visions of a corrupted citadel, ordering Talos to cleanse the taint brought on by a fallen high priest by the name of Eranthan, who has turned his loyalties to Orcus.

Elwoz, too, spoke of a visitation in the night. A "fel moose", he claims, spoke on behalf of the world serpent, also ordering the destruction of the tear, but also warning of a great disturbance looming in the future, and the need to seek out some sort of spider. He spoke quickly and excitedly, but we gathered that he wishes to destroy the tear with renewed fervor.

Shortly after breakfast, we were summoned to the top of the eastern tower where we stood before a packed crowd of dwarven soldiers along with Stovokor and a few dwarven priests as Gromsh conducted a celebratory ceremony in honor of our band and Stovokor's men. He gave thanks for the defense of Moraldrum, noting that we also defended the kingdom of Merkemia by extension. Gromsh then uttered a few prayers to Moradin before inviting Stovokor to speak before the crowd.

In a stirring speech, Stovokor acknowledged the bravery and competence of the dwarven force and the 42nd, noting that without us, Dreknar would have a defensilbe invasion point into Northwarden. He went on to say that though he didn't have the power to do so himself, he would petition the king for a formal declaration of allegiance with Moraldrum, as they have been hospitable hosts and worthy allies on the battlefield.

Gromsh again came forward as Stovokor moved back to stand with us, leaving the crowd cheering. The commander beckoned for Diesa to join him as a servant approached with an ornate chest. Gromsh declared that it was the living relatives of Thonin who were first heir to the throne of Moraldrum, and so it was only fit to offer the title to the dwarf who had travelled great distances through space and time to defend his kin. He opened the chest and took from it the simple golden crown, and placed it upon the young cleric's head, effectively crowning him the king of Moraldrum. Diesa agreed to lead the dwarves, but only once he returned to Moraldrum, for trouble threatened not just this land, but all of Icaria, and he wished to stay with the 42nd and face this threat head on. In the meantime, Diesa ordered, Gromsh was to lead as his steward.

As a token of appreciation, we were issued each one astral diamond from the dwarven coffers, which Talos and I could not accept in good conscience. For their fortress was severely battered and their supplies low, and they could use the funds more than we. Talos, always going above and beyond to express the limits of his piety, donated the remainder of his coin to the dwarves.

We exited the fortress, led by Gromsh in a march out of the twisted, crumpled gates of Moraldrum. Here we said our goodbyes to Stovokor who, to no one's surprise, needed to be introduced to me once again. He then gathered his awaiting men and began his long march back to Northwarden.

We asked Gromsh to take us to the prisoners in hopes of finding some amongst them who might have valuable information. He knew just the one.

Through small gated areas, we saw the angry faces of many races and monsters who were too unfortunate to escape the battlefield when the tides turned against them. Onward we walked until we came to a gate through which we saw Lim Shargoth standing amongst her soldiers, most with only minor wounds. The dwarves let us inside small fenced in area as all eyes of those within turned their sights on us. Lim Shargoth came forward and bowed respectfully, keeping her eyes upon Corath who immediately told her of Dreknar's demise. Alyana produced the horn she retrieved from her father and proclaimed that she was the daughter of Shirou, and the rightful leader of the northern lands. Lim Shargoth and her soldiers fell to one knee and pledged their loyalty immediately.

Corath convinced us that her allegiance was true, and asked us to allow him to return to the former Dreknar empire to unite the now-scattered tribes amongst the lands once led by Denmok, along with Lim Shargoth, her troops, and any other soldiers which pledged their loyalty to the new empire. Knowing the which lay before Corath, Alyana agreed, knowing that this sign of mercy would go a long way in convincing the scattered peoples to unite under her banner.

Thus Corath and Lim Shargoth gathered their people and embarked on Dreknar's flying ship, leaving us with two new crew members to join us alongside Lynn, Brim, and Brolani; a young tiefling male named Eldrin, and a very familiar face. Verily, for the beautiful young elf Mia Longbow was the very same elf which spat at me in Lim Shargoth's camp.

With our new crewmen, we joined Lynn, Brim, and Brolani aboard our ship and set out for Merkemia as we waved to the crowd of dwarves which gathered at our departure.

Over the past several weeks, we have grown to miss Corath's presence among us, yet we have come to settle into a comfortable relationship with our crewmen, especially the lovely Mia Longbow, who turns out to be a devout follower of Sehanine who, according to legend, shares quite the history with Corellon. It was made known that rumors of the questionable alliances with primordials, denizens of the underdark, and monsters of the northland were dismissed by many in the Dreknar empire as lies conconted by Merkemia to discredit the empire. It wasn't until the battle itself, Eldrin said, that she realized she should have listened to the tales, and deeply regret taking part in such a travesty. She apologized, too, for her behaviour in Lim Shargoth's camp, for she felt Lynn, Brim, and Brolani traitors to Dreknar and our arrival nothing more than a test of their loyalty, which she attempted to defend from us with curses and sneers.

The young elf has many, many years left to live, and will come to forgive herself and her countrymen for their lapse in judgement, for I have made great strides myself in the short time I have known the 42nd, and I know I have grown for the better. It is for this reason that I must show her and Eldrin patience and forgiveness. I have taken considerable time speaking with the young elf on matters of the gods and sharing stories of the Feywild. We have all learned a lot in these few weeks.

Well, Journal, I have a long day ahead of me, as I have elected to tend to the ship as much as possible to grant our friends much deserved rest. Next we speak, I shall be in Merkemia. For it is there we shall uncover the mystery of how to destroy the Tear of Ioun and gather clues to the warnings we continue to hear of approaching dangers. May Corellon shine his blessings upon this crew, and may he touch the hearts of our troubled Dreknar friends and bring them together under the banner of Alyana's family.

Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 27

Dear Journal,

Alyana and Talos, noting a few geographical features along our way, insist that we will reach Merkemia within the week. I'm not particularly enthused over the thought of wandering through the cold, grey, stone jungle that is the capital city of Merkemia. Though, I look forward to meeting the king, and perhaps I'll stop by the Salty Dog for old time's sake.

I do believe I have a story to finish. Having defeated Shirou, I and my allies set off to intercept Dreknar as he floated over the battlefield on a path to the kingdom of Merkemia.

As the dwarves pumped hard on the ship's wings, we sped up to catch Dreknar's fleeing ship. Corath burst from below deck, passing out grappling hooks in case we were to board their vessel. As we closed in, I could see the figures Alyana described.

At the bow of the ship stood Dreknar, clad in a skull mask, his twisting horns protruding above the skeletal visage. He waved his arms, pointing and apparently commanding his guards, hulking undead creatures known as blasphemes, to take up position along the side of the ship to engage us as we caught up. Manning the vessel's wheel and wings were enslaved skeletal figures, clad in chains.

Alyana fired an arrow, which hung harmlessly in the air beside Dreknar's ship. I muttered a few words to reveal any magical force the ship may have wielded. It became evident in the form of a magical bubble which surrounded Dreknar's vessel. I knew this energy acting as a barrier to our attacks, so I began the call to Corellon to aid me as I drew the power from the incantation, weakening the barrier.

As I was casting my disruptive spell, our crewman Blim drew the fire of the blasphemes, catching a dagger in each leg before taking the full impact of an orb of dark magic from Dreknar, taking him out of the fight. Further spells and projectiles rained down upon our ship as Talos and Diesa manned our cannons, lobbing magical flaming spheres at Dreknar, leaving smoldering holes in their deck. Their vessel shook with each strike, distracting Dreknar from an incantation he was attempting to recite.

A runic circle appeared at the bow of the ship, and I knew Dreknar was attempting to perform some kind of ritual. I knew I could disrupt it, but that would allow their magical barrier to reform, allowing them to assault us without mercy. I decided to focus on keeping the barrier down.

Frustrated, Dreknar commanded his ship to descend quickly, but this only left his ship vulnerable to several open shots from our cannons. As I continued my magical assault in their barrier, I heard a gasp behind me. Alyana had swung down the rope ladder to fire upon Dreknar as he descended, but had apparently been knocked from her perch into the snowy field below. Talos bravely tied a long rope aroudn his waist and to the rail of the ship and lept off, sprouting a pair of angelic wings from his enchanted armor. A few moments later, Alyana, looking quite well for such a fall, was back aboard the deck, followed shortly be a panting Talos who slung himself back aboard as he topped the rope ladder.

We dove to catch up to Dreknar, as our attacks continued, badly damaging their ship, which was now struggling to maintain its speed with tattered fins and a broken rudder. We quickly glided up beside the vessel, ready to fire at them point-blank, but Alyana had her own idea.

My magical battle was won as the barrier shattered, bringing an angry scream from behind Dreknar's mask. Alyana saw the opening and lept over the line of undead soldiers beside Dreknar. In her hand she held the horn taken from her father. Raising it to her lips, she sounded the horn which emitted a blast unlike anything I'd ever heard. The entire deck of Dreknar's ship was thrown to the railing, and Dreknar collided with a skeletal crewman, sending the flailing creature tumbling over the side to his doom.

I lept through the planar folds to the deck of Dreknar's ship at Alyana's side, and commanded the undead creatures to surrender to their fate with a searing radiant blast. One of the lumbering blasphemes stumbled back over the railings when hit with the divine fire. The rest were left reeling from their rebuke.

It seems the gods were on my side, for first Dreknar stuck me with a life-draining magical bolt, but was send into the cabin doors from the defiant recoil or radiant energy. A similar rebounding magic sent a blaspheme, whose ghastly claws tore at my arms, cartwheeling over the edge of the ship.

The others followed us aboard the ship to engage Dreknar and his minions. We managed to fend off their attacks as we were given supporting fire from our ship. As Getty and Without put down another skeletal crewman, Dreknar's ship began to lose speed and control, putting us in a very dangerous situation. The others kept our ship circling as we continued our fight. Fearing for our safety, I called out to abandon the doomed vessel so that we were not aboard when it inevitably crashed. Diesa refused, determined to wipe the stain of the undead from the vessel himself.

Corath and Talos were sparring with Dreknar until one of Corath's jabs met its mark, running through Dreknar's stomach as Talos's swing sent Dreknar's head rolling on the deck and mask sailing off. His gnarled face called out a warning to prepare for the reign of Orcus, as a disgusted Talos punted it away.

All that remained was a single skeleton, still diligently manning his station, apparently commanded to do nothing else. Diesa was finally pacified when I scattered his bones into the wind.

We quickly manned the ship's controls, saving ourselves and the ship from destruction. As both ships limped back to Moraldrum, Diesa read aloud a note he found on Dreknar's corpse in which was wrapped another stone like we found in the armory. The note told of a plan to steal the other relics from the King's wizard aide and corrupt the Raven Queen somehow. It appears Orcus was attempting to ursurp the Raven Queen's throne and command a neverending army of undead using the artifacts. This does not bode well, for I do not wish to see the Raven Queen involved in this. Her ways are unpredictable and unforgiving.

As we returned to Moraldrum, the sun had broken through the dwindling storm, revealing distant fleeing monsters beyond a sea composed of the corpses of Dreknar's army. We cheered, clasped hands, and embraced in joy, for the forces of Moraldrum and Northwarden had triumphed!

I believe that will suffice for today. It has been a long trip so far, and we've developed a routine in which we sit atop the deck and share stories in the afternoon. Tonight Elwoz has offered to dictate one of the pygmy heron's adventures. I look forward to hearing a tale of, I am sure, complete drunken insanity. It helps pass the time.

May the gods grant their blessings upon the pygmy heron, the albino platypus, and the swamp tiger! Blessed be my allies, as well. Thank Corellon for my safety, my health, and my noble and entertaining friends. Until tomorrow, Journal.

Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 26

Dear Journal,

We've been in the air about two weeks now. I am sorry I haven't written more often. I've tried to do my part to keep the ship running efficiently, working shifts at the wings and steering once or twice, when Elwoz left to procure more alcohol. It is the strangest sight, indeed, to watch him steer this vessel. Even stranger is to watch him, fast asleep, guiding the ship smootly with his hands as the ghostly form of his lizard companion watches the skies intently.

He does so love to play the part of crewman. His time in the swamps has not taught him much about the ways of sailing ships, for he has found a ridiculously wide-brimmed hat below deck that he refuses to take off. He has confused the station of captain and helmsman, barking orders to his legion of spirits, which I believe I am beginning to sense, strangely enough. Ever since the battle began, I've felt as if I was being watched. Not stalked but, guarded would be the word I'd choose. Bah! For all I know it's the damned tear playing tricks on me. I shouldn't let my guard down and forget about this malady the tear has left me with.

Anyway, I believe I still have a story to tell.

Fearing the door would soon relent to the unending assault outside, I began distributing the cleansed healing elixers to the dwarves. When I arrived back at my tactical post, our command disintegrated. The conflicting orders from Groth, Elwoz, and Without had left our runners caught up in arguments with the different command units. Groth, realizing the coordination with the forces above and below was lost, threw his hands up, grabbed his mighty hammer and shield, and left to assume his place at the door, to await the moment when the dam would burst, spilling Dreknar's army into Moraldrum. As we three moved to follow, the dwarven horn above sounded once again, and we met the others in a mad dash up the tower stairs.

Topping the tower roof, we witnessed Shirou, clad in a chestpiece swirling with chaotic magic and clutching an ominous green-glowing sword, lept from his mighty elder dragon who was effortlessly shoving aside the few dwarves that dared charge them. From his eyes poured a black mist, like fog rolling down a hillside. Noticing our arrival, Shirou raised his hand, which eminated foul elemental energies, preparing to unleash the chaotic magic upon us. A lighting bolt danced through our ranks, striking the end of Diesa's hammer. The stoic dwarf's muscles tightened and the ends of his beard curled and burned, but he shook it off and moved with us toward the corrupted elf.

As Shirou turned his gaze to Without, and the halfling held out his orb, which had now seemed to regain some of its healthy dark appearance. Cringing, Without commanded the orb, or more accurately, pleaded for it to defend him. Silence engulfed the tower for an instant, and a bright blast from the orb stole my sight. Cries went out from the tower, and it seemed anything within sight of us was similarly afflicted, for the assault on the door must have been halted, for the shocks from the pounding ceased. The whizzing sound of arrows and rocks ceased, along with the clicking of the dwarven crossbows, and was replaced with the curses of dwarves and the wild hooting and shrieks of the army below.

I attempted to avoid the sound of Shirou's undirected attacks, ducking and feeling for the rampart walls. Shirou and his dragon were unable to shake the blindness as quickly as the 42nd, and the dragon suffered a few nasty strikes from Talos and Diesa. Stumbling back from one of my holy blasts, Shirou was in a familiar peril. Seeing the opportunity, Elwoz shouted "Sic 'em!" and again, the ghostly lizard formed before our enemy and burst before him, stronger this time. The tower shook violently, causing the blind dragon the stumble forward, past the vicious weapons of our paladin and cleric. Shirou was propelled off the tower, screaming and firing raw elemental energy in all directions.

As my gaze followed Shirou's flailing form soaring over the tower ramparts, I could see beyond him that Stovokor's men were gaining ground, nearing the mouth of the mountain pass. However, as Shirou disappeared from view and I turned my gaze back upon the blinded dragon, the mountains echoed with the sound we had been dreading since the battle began. I was nearly knocked from my feet at the force of the great iron doors of Moraldrum being torn from their stone anchors. The first sounds of melee combat erupted below as Dreknar's monsters flooded into the fortress, giving the dwarven artillery cause to step up their assault on the stampede that now rushed through the canyon.

The dragon, regaining his sight, continued his advance toward the center of the tower, not wanting to be thrown into the fray as his master was. As he tore by us, his chilling aura crept over us, stealing our breath and biting at our skin. It was evident that I would have to keep my distance, for the cold he emanated would easily overtake me. I lept atop the inner ramparts and cast down my holy vengeance and the others assaulted the dragon from all sides.

Any younger whelp would be frantic at the assault, but this mighty beast maintained its composure as my allies encircled him. The dragon was smart, waiting for us to close in before blasting his surroundings with his fierce cold breath. I caught the roof of its mouth with a well-placed radiant bolt, thoroughly enraging him. His dark eyes shot my way, and from them rushed a black wave of air which surrounded me, stealing my sight. I prayed that the others could hold his attention as I stood vulnerable, blind and standing in the open. I no choice but to turn my aim toward the sound of the dragon's growling, not knowing if my attacks were successful.

The dark veil fell from my eyes a few moments later, revealing the battered dragon impaled by talos's sword through the dark blue must within his open chest. With a victorious roar, the paladin freed his sword and stepped aside as the beast collapsed beside him, sending a cold chill across the tower roof. Apparently compelled to keep the towers free of enemies, dead or alive, a group of dwarves dragged the corpse to the edge and shoved it off into the fray. Perhaps the huge monster served as a hindrance to the flowing crowd.

We took a moment to tend to a few of the injured dwarves that met Shirou as he landed, as well as our own wounds. Once the situation was under control and our minor wounds healed by Diesa's blessings, we quickly made our way to the staircase, eager to join the battle below. We had barely take a step as the wicked Shirou appeared upon the rooftop, sneering, though looking no worse for wear. He had apparently survived the fall and made his way through the crowd back to the tower! I still do not know how by stealth, luck, or force, he found his way to us.

Alyana was the first to see him, and as we gathered around, Shirou spoke. His black eyes greyed, and his voice was broken and desperate. He then made it clear why this act took great effort.

Calling out to Alyana, he claimed his actions today are not his will. Forces greater than he have assumed control of him, using him as a conduit for the elemental chaos. He set his hand upon a box strapped to his side, telling Alyana she must destroy him and take what is rightfully hers. Before his posture straightened, face contorted, and darkness returned to his eyes, he called out to Alyana once again, calling her "daughter".

With that, control of his body returned to the dark forces within. Stunned from this discovery, we were almost caught off guard by Shirou's attacks. Alyana was royalty, and stood now to face her own father!

I felt like such a fool for failing to recall the history of the land Dreknar inhabited. I do remembered studying a historical text at evening classes as a child which told of the Denmok Empire, which spanned the lands now controlled by Dreknar. It was ruled by an elf named Shirou - the very same Shirou whose body, though not mind, stood before us atop the dwarven tower! I had heard, though cared little at the time, that Shirou had been assassinated, leading to the teifling uprising and eventually the Dreknar Empire. The title leader of the tribes of that land was chosen by challenging and defeating the reigning king, or by the relinquishing of an ancient artifact, a horn, which stood as a symbol of the ruler's power. Upon his assassination, the relic went missing.

Shirou's sword came out almost too quickly for Talos to react. Their swords clashed and Shirou bounced backwards, nimbly leaping to Diesa and lashing out with a skillful swing, grazing his arm before he darted back to Talos. Without, Elwoz, Alyana, and I stood back, waiting for a clean shot. As we circled the fighting, Alyana alerted us to an approaching airship, much like the one we sailed to Moraldrum.

As she gazed up at the ship, Shirou seized the opportunity. Gathering his magical energies, he fired a cone of swirling frost at Alyana. Talos, thrown back from a forceful magical push, read Shirou's intentions before he moved, and dove forward, absorbing the entirety of the spell and was sent rolling across the floor, falling down the stairwell.

Shirou watched Talos disappear into the stairwell with his blank, soulless expression. Alyana beckoned to him again to fight the dominating magic. Once more, he struggled with the magic within and insisted there was no hope. He straighted up and charged at Alyana, retaken by the magic, but Alyana, ever the nimble acrobat, faked to her right and flipped end of end in the opposite direction, leaving Shirou swinging into the empty air. Hardly affected by the failure of this attack, he immediately charged in my direction, startling me with his speed.

I raised my sword to deflect his swing, but his exaggerated motions were a ruse. He brought his sword down to his side and thrusted forward. I was only able to bat it aside far enough to not be a fatal strike, for the magically infused weapon gashed my hip, spilling my blood upon the stone. Weakened from this blow, I managed to harness the Fey magic within and slip through the fabric of the planes to a position across the tower, temporarily out of harm's way.

Taking my place before Shirou was the ghostly form of Getty, whose form parted as a magical blast from Without exploded upon Shirou's chestpiece. Hissing and bobbing with the wind, Getty lashed out, keeping Shirou on his heels, repeatedly dodging the spirit's attacks. I decided to conjure a spirit of my own.

Diverting the river of arcane magic that flows through this plane, I summoned a phantom sword before me, which weaved through the air as if weilded by some unseen force. Alyana, now standing atop the inner ramparts, struck Shirou in the shoulder with an arrow, inviting his wrath. He charged towards Alyana, blasting her with a dark energy and knocking her back out onto the platform. As he made his move, my ghostly sword darted across the tower, cutting Shirou across his back as he lashed out at Alyana.

Falling back toward the tower's center, Shirou placed himself in a precarious position. Diesa began a chant to Moradin to diminish this threat, and radiant energy assailed Shirou, sapping his strength. Getty and the phantom sword moved in and began working in unison, striking out when the other forced Shirou to one side. Their dance left Shirou wide open to our assualts from outside the immediate fight, since the spirits were unphased by our attacks, allowing Without, Alyana, Elwoz, and me to freely batter Shirou as he desperately fended off the apparitions.

Alyana again warned of the approaching airship, noting a skull-faced figure stood at its bow. Our airship then began slowly heading our way from the opposite tower.

Eager to dispose of the wicked mage, I conjured a holy flame which fell over Shirou, setting his clothing ablaze. Without followed with an eruption of crackling lighting, which clung to Shirou, dancing around his body and causing my fire to flare up, consuming him, ironically, in elemental fury. Finally Getty struck the final blow. As Shirou shook off the elemental assault, and lept back from a swipe of the ghostly blade, right into Getty's prepared attack. The lizard swelled up and crashed down upon the elf, shattering his body into countless pieces.

Our ship sailed over up and dropped the rope ladder, just as Talos topped the staircase to rejoin the group. Brolani called out to us saying the other ship held Dreknar himself. Alyana scooped up the small box Shirou carried as she paused for a moment to look upon the shattered remains of her father. She looked to mem wide-eyed, with a sudden rush of hope. I knew what she was going to ask of me. I could only shake my head as I grabbed the ship's ladder. The body was detroyed. I had no vessel through which to channel the arcane magic needed to speak with Shirou. Regardless, Drekar was sailing by, looking to break through our lines and reach the Kingdom. We could not allow this.

Without nudged Alyana toward the ship as we began scrambling up the ladder. Once aboard our crewman, accompanied by a few dwarves, turned the ship about to pursue Dreknar. Alyana opened Shirou's box, revealing the relic horn her father possessed as ruler prior to Dreknar's reign. As soon as she lifted it into her hand, we could feel its powerful magic. How eager I was to see what this artifact had in store! It would have to wait, for we were now in hot pursuit, and Diesa was busy tending to my wound with his clerical spells.

We still have a long journey, so I shall save the rest of this story for another day. My wrist is tired from all of this writing, and I again getting worked up from reliving the battle. I shant be able to focus on my mediations and prayers if I continue.

Until next time, dear Journal, may Corellon continue to bless us and watch over us.

Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 25

Dear Journal,

I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to be heading out of the cold mountains. I am overjoyed at the sight of green foliage once again. Alyana and Talos insist that there is still a considerable journey ahead, but it doesn't bother me in the least. I've been on this vessel several days and so for, nothing has tried to kill me. The sun is shining and the warm winds rejuvinate my senses. It's evident that this pleasent change in scenery is doing wonders for us and our crew.

That reminds me! We've gained the service of two additional crewmen, which I will speak of later, since I wish to recount my story from start to end. So, to continue my tale: I last left off with the triumph over Shirou's gang of undead spirits.

After our skirmish with the wraiths, we resumed our stations. The enemy had reached the fortress doors, and the towers shook from their determined pounding. We had several runners which traveled back and froth from Elwoz and Groth in the command center, and brought orders to redirect fire on several occasions. Unfortunately, it seemed with each shift in directed fire, the enemies poured through. It was only with the aid of Alyana's attuned senses and perceptive eyes that we managed to alert the misdirected dwarves to greater threats and enemy diversions.

Alyana's bowstring sang a deadly song, harmonizing with the constant clicking from the dwarven crossbows. For a brief moment, we three atop the tower and our dwarven units pelted the advancing army beneath us without much resistance. Eventually those below noticed that we were no longer being assaulted from the air and redirected their arrows and stones. A trebuchet missle crashed against the other tower, rattling it so violently that several dwarves were thrown to their demise, but the strong dwarven structure barely suffered a few cracked stones from the devestating blow.

Meanwhile, Lightning cracked, icey shards fell, and bursts of magical fire erupted upon our enemies from Without's wiggling fingers. Summoning the ever-present magic in the air and, gathering my strength, I parted the clouds for an instant and burned a crowd of Drow archers with heavenly fire.

Two dragon riders swooped down from the thick clouds above and circled us, again launching deadly elemental blasts upon the towers, drawing our fire away from the troops below who continued to assail the fortress door. The situation was beginning to look desperate as their assault upon the door would eventually prove fruitful, and we would no longer be at an advantage as they streamed into the fortress halls. Our attempts to motivate the dwarven artillery was beginning to feel more and more futile.

Suddenly, our forces on the twin tower cheered, and a portion of the army below split off in apparent retreat to the north. Alyana focused, then grabbed a dwarf's spyglass and gazed into the distance. Punching her fist into the air and squeeling with delight, she shouted "Stovokor!" and our tower erupted in a joyous roar. Then, through the wispy haze of the storm, we saw two dark masses, the forces of Dreknar and Northwarden, collide. Though our total numbers were still less than that of Dreknar's, we had them surrounded. With renewed vigor, we resumed our assault on the army, coordinating attacks between the dragon riders and the ground troops.

Just after Without left us to aid Elwoz in the command center below, Alyana noticed a huge creature making a beeline for the fortress door. Her keen eyes detected the frost titan as it tore through its own army, scattering and trampling Dreknar's minions. The tower collectively took aim and fired upon the giant, slowing its charge as it tripped up amongst the army and momentarily toppled down.

I turned my attention then to one of the Shadar-kai dragon riders and fired a divine bolt at him. True was my aim as the magical energy connected squarely upon his chest, knocking him clear of his mount and down into the rushing tide of soldiers.

Alyana again warned us that the frost titan was charging in on the door. The chilled titan tossed monsters about as it again plowed through toward the fortress. Alyana fired a shot which connected with the titan, catching his attention and distracting him long enough to seal his fate, for one of the dwarves' trebuchets on the opposite tower struck the creature with its missle. As the titan scowled at us, it took a single step just as its head evaporated into a fine blue mist, pulverized by a massive stone launched from above. As his limp form crashed down into the crowd, the scattered flying creatures of Dreknar's army began to fall back out of our range.

One dragon rider broke away from the retreat and swooped low over the army, then climbed up the side of the tower. I gave the signal for battle and the horn was blown again to summon the 42nd. We recognized the shadar-kai as his dragon landed and he dismounted upon the tower platform. It was the rider which escaped our battle upon the airship. The soldier wore simple, dark vestments, usually worn by servants of the Raven Queen. As we have previously seen, however, this strange warrior carried the insignia of Orcus, the Prince of Death.

The surrounding dwarves kept their attention on the army below as the 42nd assembled to face the threat. Without's current affliction caused the tower to sway with his every step. It seemed as if the tower itself was repeled from Without's feet by some magical energy. Even the dwarves upon the edge of the tower somehow instinctively parted anytime Without got near. This kept the dragon and his master off-step as the halfling danced around the tower, launching his madness upon them. The dragon inhaled deeply, looking to assail us with his blistering cold breath. Seeing an opportunity, I concentrated my next attack as the dragon threw its head back and stood on its hind legs, ready to heave himself down and unleash his wicked attack. An explosive blast of holy light erupted squarely on its chest, knocking its breath from its lungs and throwing it off balance. Without conveniently lept back to avoid the shadar-kai's whip at just that moment, rocking the tower and sending the dragon bouncing along the side of the structure as it plummeted down into the fray.

We focused then on the shadar-kai, who now knew he was outnumbered, but continued swinging his whip defiantly, striking Talos with its necrotic energy. Our attacks strategically drove the soldier towards the edge of the tower. Elwoz yelled something in his own drunken language, but Getty seemed to understand. The ghostly lizard formed before the shadar-kai and exploded in a thunderous boom, rematerializing beside Elwoz. The shock lifted the shadar-kai off of his feet and sailing off the edge.

As I ran to the edge of the tower, I saw our enemy disappear into a crowd of orcs. Below me the dragon had arisen and was now flying back up the side of the tower, his wounded wings pumping frantically. I leaned over the edge, my boots holding me tightly to the stone tower, and fired a bolt at him, momentarily slowing his advance. We then stepped back, gathering at the edge and waiting for the dragon to appear before us. My blade ready, I sliced the dragon as it flew by and landed beside us upon the tower's ledge.

Elwoz and Getty assaulted the dragon's mind, and Elwoz taunted the beast with claims of conquest over his mother by his friend, the cave rhino. The tired and tattered beast was struck in the leg by Talos as I conjured another of my forceful radiant bursts. Again my aim was true and the dragon was struck upon the shoulder. Finally overwhelemed by the mental assault from Getty, the dragon slumped backwards, dead before its limp body crashed into the river of soldiers below.

Dreknar's air support was in disarray. The last few remaining monsters flew north to meet Stovokor's advancing army as the dwarves resumed their barrage upon Dreknar's ground forces. Seeing that the towers were secure, Alyana and I went downstairs to help the others. I joined Elwoz and Without in the command center and Alyana and Diogi sped off to hold the gate with Talos and Diesa.

This looks to be an excellent stopping point in my tale for now. I shall be up many more hours if I wish to continue at this point, for the battle takes a thrilling twist. Just writing about it again makes me feel the invigorating rush of battle once more. I think I shall open another bottle of wine Elwoz brought up from the cellar and sit with the others for a while.

Blessings be upon this crew and these warriors. May His light guide us safely to Merkemia and beyond.