Dragon Heist

Yasuo Shimazu

Dewdrop let me cleanse

In your brief sweet waters

These dark hands of life.

- Matsuo Basho

Human Samurai from Kozakura

Miyamoto Musashi teaches us that the true Way of the Warrior is The Way of Walking Alone.  He tells us not to turn our backs on the ways of the world, but also that we should not engage its vices.  We should have no desire for possessions now or in old age, nor hope to own a home.  We should deeply contemplate the world but spend little thought on ourselves.  We should live a self-sufficient life free from desire.  Even the Gods are to be respected but not count on.  But above all, though you give up life do not give up honor.

The words of Musashi are law.  I know this.  I believe this.  My soul recognizes their undeniable truth.  But how do I follow them?

I am Shimazu Yasuo, the Eldest Son of Shimazu Tsunataka of the Kono Shidan, the Emperor's personal guard.  I am 17, and it is my destiny to serve The Chrysanthemum Throne.  I have spent my whole life training for it, from The Way of the Word to The Way of the Sword.  I have poured over the histories to better understand politics, I have studied the arts to better understand people.  I have learned the martial ways and tactics befitting a Samurai, and delved into the philosophies of the great teachers.

But I am untested.

I live a pampered life on the palace grounds, with every need met as befits a family of high status.  Everywhere I walk the Shimazu name precedes me, and I go unchallenged.  I am proud of my family name, of my father, and of my destiny.  My father wears our ancestral sword that will some day be mine.  I yearn for it.

My mother ensures that only the daughters of advantageous nobles are invited to sit with her, and often contrives to briefly require my attendance for some small thing.  I do not mind.  She will pick the best wife for me and ensure many children will carry on the family name and traditions, here in our ancestral home.  Life is good.

Why, then, am I unsatisfied?

For many days I sat beneath the great cedar tree overlooking a secluded pond, my favorite place for such contemplation, and considered why I was so restless. As time went by I found myself watching dragonflies skimming the water, occasionally dipping into it and causing little ripples to cascade across the water. The ripples were beautiful and hypnotic and I could not take my eyes from them.  Their unrelenting fluidity brought to mind the movements of master swordsmen, and I wondered if this is what Murasama saw when he was writing The Book of Five Rings.

The Book of Five Rings is a definitive text for Samurai, and is required reading.  It is a relatively short book, but one could study it for a lifetime and never fully understand all of its secrets.  Such was the genius of Murasama, the greatest swordsman to have ever lived.

I began to repeat Murasama's wisdom out loud, and the words traveled across the pond and echoed back to me, and I listened.  There is something about the sound a word makes that transcends its written form, and I began to hear them as if for the first time.  And I finally understood.

The Way of Walking Alone is not some esoteric riddle to be solved, it is a literal and unforgiving way of life.  You cannot truly understand it or benefit from it without giving into it completely.  I felt restless because my warrior's soul was rebelling against the life I have lead, and the mockery I was making of Murasama's instruction.

I sat there a while longer putting my thoughts in order and deciding the best way to correct my wrongful thinking, and to atone for my sins.  I then went home to begin the readjustment.  I spent the rest of that day and most of the next preparing myself, and then settled in to wait for my father.

When he got home he was surprised to find the outward transformation.  Gone from me were the embellishments of palace life, with only the minimum required of my station remaining.  I humbly explained that I was on a new path, one that I hoped would lead me to better understand the great teachings, that I had to do this to understand my proper place and to be worthy of him and of the Chrysanthemum Throne.

My father listened quietly, without expression, as I explained all of the things I had done and believed that I now knew were wrong, including coveting our family sword.  I left nothing out.

On and on I spoke, with the compassion and conviction of the reborn, and still my father remained as a statue.  When I finally had said all that I had to say, and had given plans and reasons, he smiled and said that he had been waiting a long time for this and had almost given up hope.  He explained that all of the pomp and ceremony, all of the embellishments, even the ancestral sword meant nothing to him but were required by his position.  He had been worried that this had set a bad example for me, and indeed it had, but now I saw my error.

"If you really want to follow The Way", he said, "you must first learn to be self-reliant.  You cannot do this at home.  You cannot do this anywhere the Shimazu name will be recognized, and our name shouts from the very heavens.  You will have to go far.  I will make arrangements for you to accompany a diplomatic mission that will soon leave for Waterdeep.  You should prepare yourself accordingly."

So here I sit watching the waves, listening to the sounds of the ship as everything I have ever known slides over the horizon.

Turbulent waters

Waves relentlessly pass

Carry my thoughts home

- Shimazu Yasuo

Davian Targana

Aasimar Sorcerer from the Shadowfell

Anlow and Rosalyn Targana were adventurers with the guild Protectors of the Faithful.  A small group, they roamed the land righting wrongs and doing their best to protect the downtrodden.  Anlow was a fighter, Rosalyn the cleric.  Normally they played defense, but often they arrived too late to prevent needless deaths.  Eventually the wizard of the group, Fenton Graylock, decided they should instead venture into the Shadowfell and take on the particular menace before it could venture above ground again.  Fenton had noticed it was the same evil entity, Corynax, that was directing the foot soldiers on their trips above ground.  

So it was that the Protectors of the Faithful ventured into the Shadowfell for what would be their last trip.  Rosalyn was 7 months pregnant at this point, but no matter what Anlow said, how much he pleaded for her to stay behind, she would do no such thing.  After several days in the Shadowfell, they had found their way to Corynax's lair.  Fierce fighting ensued, but the enemy was too strong and plentiful for the Protectors to overcome.  The rest of the party were slaughtered leaving only Anlow and Rosalyn, but soon Rosalyn was struck down by Corynax himself.  As she fell, Corynax reached a dark tendril into the fetus, planting the seed of evil deep within.  As emotions overcame Anlow, he nearly made a fatal move toward Corynax, but was stopped by a blindingly bright light that pierced the Shadowfell and the angel Mykiel descended, standing over the corpse of the cleric.  

As the sound of hissing and snarls surrounded them, Mykiel took out a dagger made of pure light and pierced the belly of Rosalyn.  He reached in, extracting the baby and wrapping it in a cloth, then handed it to Anlow.  Once this was done, Mykiel pulled the baby, Anlow and the corpse of Rosalyn out of the Shadowfell and back to the surface world.  Anlow didn't see Mykiel leave, but he also had a dead wife and a newborn, oddly healthy baby boy to contend with.  Anlow made camp, put his son Davian down to sleep, and buried his wife.  With this done, he studied his son and realized that he must be an Aasimar, and as such, would not be safe around others.  He hadn't seen an Aasimar before, but he knew the legends and what a baby should look like, and considering the way Davian was born, being an Aasimar made sense.  Over time he also noticed that Davian would go for days without blinking, which further cemented the feeling.

For the next year, food a baby could consume seemed to arrive in their campsite with regularity.  At the time that Davian could handle solid food, the deliveries came to a halt.  Anlow felt this must be due to the angel, but he never saw the delivery occur, even when he stayed up late with the hope of catching sight of it happening.  For the next 5 years Anlow would watch over his son at night and during the day hunt for their next meal.  He then started teaching Davian how to set simple snares, and Davian developed quite the knack for catching smaller wildlife.

In the evenings, Anlow would regale Davian with tales of his adventuring days, but discussing Rosalyn was always difficult.  Still, he wanted his son to know how brave and strong his mother was, so many of the stories featured her prominently.

As Mykiel had hoped, Anlow did his best to guide Davian down the path of good, teaching him morals and compassion.  He also did his best to prevent Davian from approaching travellers, as Anlow couldn't take the chance that they might bring harm to Davian.  He knew he was being paranoid, but he couldn't shake the fear that something bad would happen to Davian.

Around the time that Davian was 15, they were moving camp to a new location and stumbled upon a dead adventuring party.  Davian, always the curious one, picked up a wand from one of the piles of bones.  Suddenly the area around him turned into darkness; after a few moments light returned and Anlow could see pools of black in his eyes.  Though he was concerned and wanted to run, Anlow had a strong parental urge to rush to forward, but as he tried to move, Davian locked eyes with him and suddenly he was unable to move forward, and a horrible stench of rotten eggs surrounded him.  As Anlow slowly pushed forward, a beam of light, similar to what he saw in the Shadowfell, struck the area around Davian and a winged man decended.  As he landed, his hand settled on Davian's head, and he crumpled into a heap at the feet of the angel.  Anlow tumbled forward and rushed to his now limp son.  A voice appeared in his head, without the angel moving his mouth; the voice said "He has discovered his powers.  They are tainted by the Shadowfell.  He can be a powerful force for good, but he must be guided.  I will continue watching, but you must be there for him, continue showing him that good trumps evil."  With that, he ascended once again.  After some time, Davian returned.  Anlow never explained what happened for fear that it might make him look to the evil that lie within.

Over the next ten years, they continued moving around as they had over the previous years.  One day, they were moving camp into an area they hadn't been to before.  Davian was practicing a new spell that came to mind, and just as his father was beginning to tell him to be careful, Anlow dropped out of sight.  As Davian rushed to the pit, he found his father impaled on sharpened sticks.  No matter what Davian tried, he could not reach his father in time.  He strung a rope around a nearby tree and quickly lowered himself into the pit, just in time to hear his father's dying words "Make your mother proud, stay on the path of the light".  Darkness crept in, and he glimpsed a being in his peripheral vision.  He could hear a sinister voice say "Doooon't worrrrry Daaaavian, Iiiii'll stilllll be heeeeere, Iiiii'll beee heeeere untilllll the ennnnnnd".  While it made his skin crawl, it was oddly comforting during this time.  The light quickly returned, and after grieving for a moment he composed himself and worked to bring his father to the surface.

After burying his father and spending several days feeling lost, Davian decided to seek out the Protectors of the Faithful.  He wasn't sure if they were even still a group, but he was clinging to the one thing he had remaining and he wanted to do his best to fulfill his father's dying words.  In his father's stories, he knew that they had at one time resided in Waterdeep, so he started travelling.

Thia Liadon

Elven Wizard from Candlekeep

Thia Liadon was born into a distinguished family, one of both money and prestige. 

Theren, her father, lived a childhood deprived of most things that others took for granted.  Food was scarce, and toys were sticks and rocks.  However, Theren loved to devour books, anything he could get his hands on, and as such he became the best student in school.  Word spread, and soon the university reached out to him, extending an offer that included tuition, supplies, room and board.  The offer hadn’t even been fully uttered before Theren jumped in with “I accept”.  While at the university, he further impressed those in charge, and upon graduation he was given the chance to teach.  He excelled at this, with the students attending his classes far exceeding the abilities of those in other classes.  A few years before Thia’s birth, her father was granted the title and office of High Mage.  In the course of his duties, a member of the Emerald Enclave came to town, bearing a particularly old tome of lore.  He had long been interested in such tomes, and so he met her personally to help with the translation.  This meeting would lead to other meetings, to courtship, and finally to marriage and children.

Thia’s mother, Ielenia, led an interesting life before this fateful encounter.  The daughter of an Emerald Enclave member, she lived her life in preparation to fight at her father’s side.  Every spare moment of her childhood was devoted to training, and after a decade of this she was given a chance to go with some members of the Enclave on a quest to retrieve an item of power.  She excelled, as everyone had expected she would, and even distinguished herself while in the heat of combat.  After five more years of adventuring, she was finally ready to go on the most important missions.  A further two years passed when a group she was with came upon a set of books, one of which no one in the Enclave could read.  Sensing great power within this tome, she set out to the nearby city of Candlekeep and the school of magic therein.  She left with a translation, and a request by the translator to see her again.  Something about him left her wanting to learn more, and spend more time with him, so she returned, as she would multiple times in the coming months.

Initially, this union of high elf (father) and wood elf (mother) was viewed negatively by a segment of the community.  However, between the station that Theren held and the respect that the citizens had for the Emerald Enclave, those who were skeptical and opposed to it softened over time, and all was eventually forgotten.

As much as Ielenia loved the adventuring life, she also felt the tug of motherhood.  After marriage but before children arrived, Ielenia would continue adventuring.  While Theren was opposed to it at some level, he also smiled at the thought of his beloved chopping her way through dungeons, conquering foes he had only read about.  However, once the first child was born, Ielenia left that life behind. She still felt the tug, but she often felt the literal tug of her children and thought she might be able to instill that same sense of adventure in them.  In Thia, it seemed that she had.

Thia grew up listening to stories her mother would tell, and occasionally glimpse her father smiling at these stories.  She loved the idea of walking in her mother’s shoes, but she also had a very studious side, which her father tried to foster.  So it was that she studied during the day and went on “adventures” until dark.  While this sometimes presented issues for her parents, they loved seeing Thia grow to embrace both of their personalities.

Continuing in her father’s footsteps, she enrolled in the University.  Thia thrived in this environment, yet she also had a constant struggle in that she wanted to take every class and read every book in the library.  This was fueled both by her curiosity and by the stories her mother told.  She knew that the monsters her mother described in her fun adventure stories were a persistent threat, and as she grew older she become more intent on using the knowledge and skills she was learning to protect her family and her people.

Midway through her time at the University, her encyclopedic knowledge of the books in the library helped her secure a position as a librarian.  While not as impressive as the nearby Candlekeep Library, the University library was still an impressive collection of tomes.  Thia was practically doing backflips as she got the news, she would now have complete access to the library, and she took advantage of this in the years that followed.

Toward the end of her time at the University, her father came to her with a task.  Thia was the best scribe in the university due to her work in the library and her drive to excel in her classes, and he felt that this task was worthy of her burgeoning talents.  Word reached Theren that the legendary scholar Volo Geddarm was in Waterdeep working on a new tome, and he wanted to acquire a copy of it.  Suddenly the thirst for adventure came rushing back after having been suppressed for several years, so Thia lept at the chance without a moment’s hesitation.  A few days later, she was on her way to Waterdeep.

Quinn Alimar

Half-Elven Cleric of Tempus from Waterdeep

To tell the origin of young Quinn Alimar is to begin at sea where a half-elven maiden met a half-elven man on a voyage to Waterdeep. Both had procured passage on board the Quadrille to seek their fortunes. The ship was small. The voyage, thankfully tedious, provided ample opportunity for the pair to acquaint themselves with one another.

A few days prior to docking in Waterdeep, Corila Irolynn and Vicyeras Alimar united their hands in marriage. The captain of the Quadrille performed the ceremony with the crew as witnesses to the union. The atmosphere became festive as the crew celebrated the new couple. After a modest feast the two immediately began their honeymoon in Vicyeras’ cabin.

The Quadrille docked in Waterdeep a few days later where the new couple disembarked and started looking for opportunities. Vicyeras was a skilled craftsman and Corila had a penchant towards writing. Corila was first to find a position. The job was within the Castle Ward as a scribe for the courts in the Halls of Justice. She kept documentation of the legal proceedings regarding property ownership in Waterdeep. Corila’s income, along with the modest sum of money they arrived with allowed them to rent out a section of a nearby home.

A strange event occurred months after the beginning of Corila’s new job. During a break, Corila discovered a note and a small bag of gems in her coat pocket. She had recalled a stranger bumping into her on the steps in front of the Halls of Justice. The note contained instructions to forge a set of documents indicating ownership of a currently abandoned warehouse on the docks should be Ironpaw. The note ended with the mention that failure to comply would not be wise.

Corila went home that night and shared the event with Vicyeras. They both decided going down this path would only lead to trouble. Corila and Vicyeras concluded going to a judge within the Halls of Justice is the only way. That is what Corila attempted to do the next day. She arrived an hour earlier in an attempt to locate a justice only to be turned away by the bureaucracy. Determined to do the right thing, Corila stayed late after her shift to locate any justice who would hear her tale. The fates seemed against her as no one would grant access.

Stymied, Corila went home. Upon entering their home, she could not find Vicyeras. Looking around, she spied a plate that appeared out of place on the table. Another note was placed under the misplaced plate. The note stated plainly to forge the set of documents or Vicyeras would never be heard from again. Any attempt to bring this to the attention of any policing bodies would result in Vicyeras’ unpleasant demise.

Being relatively new to Waterdeep, Corila had no real choice in the matter. The next day, after a sleepless night spent forging the ownership papers, she reported to work. Corila gained access to the immense records hall with the forged documents held close under her clothing. Seeing her opportunity, Corila slipped the papers in among the other deeds of ownership. She quickly exited the records section with her heart beating hard, loud enough to nearly deafen her. Upon returning to her desk, she sat and blankly stared into space as the realization of what had occurred sunk in.

Seemingly moments later, a Magister was looking down at Corila. The Magister did not waste any time and outright accused Corila of forging the documents and placing them within the Hall of Records. Corila couldn’t utter a sentence and merely emptied her pockets, showing the Magister the two notes. Each of the notes were examined by the Magister. He looked back to Corila and asked what kind of proof was offered by blank bits of parchment. Corila could only stammer, dumbfounded that the only proof of her being blackmailed was nothing more than scratch paper.

The Magister tried Corila on the spot and sentenced her to six months in prison. She was taken away immediately in shackles and tears. During the period of carrying out her sentence, Corila became aware of the baby she was carrying. This one small bit of happiness provided her the strength to endure her sentence. After what seemed an eternity, Corila was released.

She immediately headed back to her home, only to find it rented out to another family. The property owner claiming he had no idea what had become of the Alimars and after three months, had to offer the rooms to another family. He’d not heard or seen Vicyeras in the six months passing. He gave back Corila her few possessions and told her to move on.

Corila was accepted as a lowly servant to The Portly Baron, one of the lesser inns in the Northern Ward. The work was hard, made harder while carrying a child. When Corila felt the birth of her child was imminent, she made way to the local clerics of Sylvanus. Shortly after her arrival at the temple, she gave birth to Quinn. The clerics allowed Corila to stay until her strength had returned.

Given the lack of options, Corila returned to the The Portly Baron to continue working. The inn keeper begrudgingly allowed her back and to care for Quinn. Life was difficult bringing up a child while continuously keeping the inn clean. When old enough, Quinn began to help out. He was willing to help his mom, especially upon discovering the mouthfuls of food that could be snuck here and there. Growing up in the inn was a constant balancing act of performing chores and sneaking enough food for him and his mom to eat.

Quinn’s chore list became longer and longer as he grew up. The work was hard and the boss unappreciative. Quinn took note of every put-down against his mom and took vengeance through acts ranging from small bit of vandalism to outright thievery. His rebellious acts did not go unnoticed however.

Quinn was at work, seeing to the drinks for the patrons one busy night. He ducked and weaved through the inebriated throngs, barely missing steins, elbows and boots. Steins filled to the brim were delivered to the tables with nary a spilled drop. In the midst of the festive atmosphere, the better bits of food and a few coins were liberated from the clientele. In particular, an attractive scroll case found its way into Quinn’s hands. The night continued well into the rising dawn.

After a few winks of sleep, Quinn woke and took stock of the night’s haul. The scroll case was the most interesting item in the small pile of treasures. Opening it up revealed floor plans for the mansion of a nearby lord. The detail was complete, down to every last square foot. Everything a builder, or an aspiring thief would need to know.

Little did Quinn realize the opening of the scroll case set a series of events in motion. The case was planted to be snatched up. The opening caused a wizard mark to be cast onto Quinn albeit unknown to him at the time. This event allowed the one who planted the case to be snatched to be notified when it was indeed opened.

That afternoon, Quinn stepped out back to take out the trash. An elf dressed in dark hooded robes was in the alleyway and approached Quinn. The elf introduced herself as Keely the Smile. Upon the introduction, the elf bowed low allowing only her broad grin to be seen from under her hood. Quinn took a step back, instantly nervous at the stranger’s appearance. Keely made a quick motion and uttered a strange verbalization. The image of a smile began to glow on the back of Quinn’s right hand. Keely the Smile talked about the scroll case and how she had arranged for it to find its way into Quinn’s possession. She persuaded him to join her and her band of thieves that night or face the City Watch. Once again, an Alimar was being blackmailed.

Quinn made arrangements to get away from the inn on the pretense of running a message for one of the patrons. With some clever persuasion the inn keeper reluctantly agreed to allow for Quinn to leave. Quinn raced out to the pre-arranged meeting spot. While en route, he became nervous about the ordeal. Should something happen to him, his mother would be crushed given Quinn hadn’t said anything to her about this scheme. He was too worried of what his mother would think of him as the thought of disappointing her was too much to even contemplate. It wasn’t an option. She couldn’t find out.

The shady corner in the back of a non-descript alley was the gathering point for the crew. Quinn entered the alley, cautiously making his way to the end. Two dark elves were already occupying the back corner. As Quinn approached them, an audible sneer was uttered by one of the pair. The unmistakable sound of a weapon being unsheathed reached Quinn’s ears, barely registering above his own heart pounding away. Before any had a chance to take this potential encounter any further, The Smile dropped down from the rooftop. A quick hiss towards the pair froze the duo. With a quick whisper in a strange tongue, the situation was defused. The Smile rose up and motioned for Quinn to join them. Quinn did so, figuring there was no backing out at this point.

After procuring the map back from Quinn, The Smile quickly went over the plan to rob the mansion. The duo would create a distraction at the front of the house, diverting attention away from the rear. There, The Smile and Quinn would enter the home through a second story window made accessible by a large tree growing on the grounds. They would quickly make their way down the hall to the vault at the end of the hallway. There was a small access point to the vault which would be hidden in the room according to the plans. Quinn was small enough to enter the access tunnel and open the vault. After that, take the most valuable treasures, close the vault and exfiltrate out the same window they entered.

The crew set out to begin the job without a sound. They moved swiftly along the streets, careful not to stray into the light any more than necessary. Quinn jogged along to keep up, stepping where the others stepped, moving like they moved. The mansion came into view. The Smile and Quinn split off from the pair of dark elves and approached the rear entrance. There were two guards on patrol, each walking the grounds in a lazy sort of way. A large crash was heard from around the front. The diversion had begun. The guards snapped to and gave each other a quick glance. One dashed around to the front while the other took up a central position near the house. The Smile uttered to Quinn “Go up to the gate and pretend you are lost.”

Quinn hesitated for a moment. The hesitation ended upon a sharp look from The Smile. Quinn walked up to the back gate and began softly sobbing. The guard, hearing Quinn’s cries approached the back gate. “What’s up with you boy?” the guard inquired. Before Quinn could come up with any kind of lie, a blade appeared at the guard’s throat and quickly drew across it. A red mist painted the darkness briefly. The guard, completely caught by surprise slumped without a sound. The Smile drug the body into the hedges and opened the back gate. Quinn caught a look of sheer delight on The Smile’s face when a lantern lit her face momentarily.

The pair approached the tree to access the second story window. They quickly made their way up without so much as a crinkle of a leaf or snap of a branch. Two quick leaps and they were inside the manor. The plans appeared to be completely accurate. They strode silently down the hall to the vault room. The Smile stopped by the door and pointed out the secret access point to the vault. Quinn quickly made his way across the room to the lower section of the wall to the left of the vault door. Sure enough, the small door swung open upon clicking a small imperfection in the baseboard. Quinn got on all fours and crawled inside.

Once inside, the back door swung shut quickly. He pressed against the door only to discover it wouldn’t open. Glancing around in a panic, Quinn saw another door in front of him with a strange set of symbols on it. He had no idea how to read them or what they could possibly mean. He ran his hand along them and found they lit up when contacted. This brief moment of amusement came to an abrupt halt when the sound of pounding boots came into the main vault room. Quinn heard a muffled discussion taking place. He frantically hit all the symbols in a random order hoping it would get him further away. A loud wail began emanating from the panel as the floor gave way to a chute. Quinn slid down into a cell. A fast look around told Quinn that he was trapped. His heart sank, wondering what his mother would think when he didn’t return or worse, if she found out he had tried to rob this manor.

Quinn buried his head in shame as the weight of the situation bore down on him. Eventually, sounds of men descending the stairs echoed into the cell. The door to the cell area flung open. A guard and a man dressed in fine robes entered. The guard looked down upon Quinn in contempt. “We ought to string him up in front of the house as a warning to other thieves,” said the guard. “He slit Gil’s throat.”

“Nonsense,” said the finely dressed man. “Look at him. He’s merely a child who made a mistake. I would guess he was charmed or coerced into this.”

The guard looked in and begrudgingly agreed. “I suppose there is no blood anywhere on him, not to mention he would have needed a ladder. Still he is guilty of attempted robbery. I’ll inform the City Watch to come…”

“Hold there,” the well dressed man interjected. “I’d like to chat with our young robber here. Please leave us for now. I’ll call for you if I need you.”

The guard shook his head slightly but did not utter any objections. He left Quinn and the finely dressed man to their talk.

“I am Godfrey Lanset, lord of this manor,” said the finely dressed man. “Please tell me how it is you came to be in my trap.”

Quinn looked up at the man, seeing him for the first time. A kindly and well-groomed bearded face appeared through his fingers. Quinn broke down immediately, telling the tale of the events of the night so quickly he scarcely took any breaths. Lord Lanset called up for the butler to bring down some tea. Five minutes later, a well-dressed figure appeared with a tea set. Two cups were poured. Lord Lanset dismissed the butler and offered one of the cups to Quinn. Quinn cautiously reached out and took in the cup, holding the warm vessel close.

“Now, let’s hear that tale again at half speed,” smiled Lord Lanset.

Quinn took a sip of the tea, secretly delighting in its flavor. He did tell Lord Lanset once again, the full details of the night, leaving nothing out. Lord Lanset nodded along, taking in all the points of the story. Once the events were all told and understood, Lord Lanset became serious in his demeanor.

“Young Quinn, I want you to listen to me as I have to you,” said Lord Lanset. “This path you are on is one with nothing but dead ends. Looking at you, I see a great potential within you and that would be a shame to waste. I have an offer I’d like for you to entertain.”

Quinn perked up, not believing his own senses.

“I see I do have your attention,” said Lord Lanset. “Good. I propose the following. You go with me to the Temple of Tempus, the god of war. Not just wholesale slaughter mind you. War has to have rules and guidelines or civilization would break down.”

Quinn continued to listen intently, holding onto the teacup the entire time.

“There you will learn discipline and be given a purpose in life,” said Lord Lanset. “I will sponsor you in entrance to the ranks of the Hammers of Tempus. You will work and study in an effort to make the world a safer and better place. Do this and we will be even.”

Quinn swallowed hard, realizing the option laid in front of him might provide a way to a more fulfilling life, both for he and his mother. This also would keep him out of jail which would destroy his mother. Realizing this was not only the best option but an amazing opportunity, Quinn accepted the offer. Lord Lanset smiled and rose up. He reached for the key to the cell and paused briefly.

“I will be checking in on you, either directly or indirectly and will hear of any misdeeds,” said Lord Lanset solemnly. “I need your word as a man that you swear to an honorable path.”

Quinn took in the words. Lord Lanset offered his hand. Quinn took a deep breath and shook Lord Lanset’s hand.

“Your new life will begin immediately,” announced Lord Lanset. 

It Begins

Amon’Kel, servant of Amon’Zhakar

Amon’Kel.  The name rings odd in my ears, for it is not my hatch-name.  Yet, for all its strangeness, it is the name by which this new world will know me.  It is the will of Amon’Zhakar, He Who Burns, that I take this name and by this name his enemies will know their doom.

My brood-mates chittered nervously as we entered the sacred chamber.  The ancient blade had been placed upon the sacred stone alter for the ceremony, it’s black blade gleamed like a sliver of the night sky in the flickering torchlight.  We fell to our knees in a ring around the dais, our hoods pulled low over our brows.  The Brood-Master intoned the words of the ceremony, just as it had been done for generations and we waited, as every Brood had waited, for nothing.  Nothing had happened in these ceremonies for a very long time, since the death of Amon’Tzarka, last of the Chosen.

The Brood-Master’s chanting stopped and those around me started to rise.  I could not.  My limbs felt heavy, a red haze dimmed my vision.  I heard a gasp, it might have been the Brood-Master, I cannot tell, and my skin started to burn.  My brood-mates scrambled away from me with cries of surprise and fear.  I rose shakily to my feet and observed reddish-purple flames dancing along my arms, over my chest, and down my legs.  A voice, like a hoarse whisper, filled my ears.   It spoke a twisted, tortured language that I, somehow, understood.  I knew it was the voice of the long-dead Dragon, Amon’Zhakar, bound to the black blade and I knew that I was his Chosen.

Though I cannot bear the blade, no living being could, its power is still mine.  As long as I serve the will of Amon’Zhakar, I will have access to that power.  Now, the first of my people in many hatchings, I go forth into the world of men and elves to reclaim that which we lost.  My people will return to prominence and reclaim our power in this world as we had eons ago, when the skies were ruled by our progenitors.

 

The people of the flame shall rise again….

Amon'Kel
Male Dragonborn Warlock 1
Medium humanoid, lawful evil
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Armor Class 18 (scale mail, shield)
Hit Points 12 (1d8+4)
Speed 30 ft.
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STR 13 (+1), DEX 14 (+2), CON 18 (+4), INT 8 (-1), WIS 14 (+2), CHA 16 (+3)
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Saving Throws Wis +4, Cha +5
Skills Insight +4, Intimidation +5, Investigation +1, Perception +4
Damage Resistances fire
Senses passive Perception 14
Languages Common, Draconic, Goblin

Actions
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Longsword. Melee Weapon Attack: +5 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d8+3 slashing damage or 1d10+3 slashing damage if used with two hands to make a melee attack.

Unarmed Strike. Melee Weapon Attack: +3 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature.
Hit: 2 bludgeoning damage.

Equipment Longsword, scale mail, shield, backpack, component pouch, crowbar, hammer, piton (10), rations (10), rope, hempen (50 feet), tinderbox, torch (10), waterskin

The Party

Theolaerynn Liwanu, High Elf Rogue

The first five years of Theolaeryn's young life went as would be expected for any High Elf child born of prominent figures in a larger Elvish city.  While his mother was a healer, his father was a Wizard and expected Theolaerynn to follow in his footsteps.

On his 5th birthday Theo learned his first cantrip, Ray of Frost, and was incredibly proud of himself.  His mother's smile was a ray of light, but his father seemed only slightly less aloof than he ever was, making the moment bittersweet.

Such things are short lived in the eyes of a five year old, however, and it wasn't long before most of the hurt was forgotten and he once again found joy in each and every moment.

Later that year his mother was called upon to assess a previously unknown illness that was found not to be contagious, but did seem to have an arcane element to it.  It was thought that if she and her husband looked at it together that they might make more sense out of it.  Because the illness only seemed to inflict a very rural village, and because she didn't know how long this would take, she chose to bring Theo as well.  It would be good to expose him to rural life, to expose him to a way of life he as yet had no concept of.

Soon Theo found himself in the family carriage, laying in a pool of sunlight, gently rocked to sleep by the sway and dip of the carriage as it traveled over the rural roads, and by the gentle sound of his mothers voice as she talked with his father.

His memory of the days that followed has always eluded his grasp, tantalizing and teasing like the morning mist on a lake as the wind chases it first one way and then another.  What he does recall he wishes that he wouldn't.  The sightless eyes of his mother, the arrow protruding from her throat, and later the feelings of thirst, hunger and fear.  The last of the frugal memories from that time is the sound of a soothing voice, a shocked laugh, and darkness.

When he awoke from that darkness he was in an unfamiliar cottage, in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in unfamiliar smells and sounds.  An early-middle-aged man sat at a well worn but rustic table, pouring over a sheaf of documents.  Human eyes looked up and Theo could feel himself being carefully measured and weighed.

John Cobbler.  The name still brought mixed emotions.  The joy of a life well-lead, and the sorrow of the brief lives of mortal men.  Theo was forty five when John joined his ancestors at 70, in the comfort of his own bed in that same cottage.

In that 40 years John had taught Theo all of the important things fathers taught their sons, like honor and duty and the worth of family.  He also gave Theo his surname, Liwanu, which means Growl of the Bear.  He gave Theo that name, he said, because when he found him in the wreckage of the carriage and its escorts, standing over the days-old corpse of his mother, he used the last of his remaining strength to scream savage defiance as John approached.  And then he passed out and did not awake again until he was back at Johns cottage.

John was an Investigator, sharp and observant, and was often called on to look into some of the harder to solve crimes in the rural area where they lived.  Not the high crimes of the city, but crimes none the less.  He taught Theo everything he knew, starting that very day that Theo first woke in his cottage, setting out to find out what happened to his parents.  A task that would take several years, even though it ended up to be one of the simplest and oldest of motives:  Greed.  One of his fathers rivals had him assassinated, something made easier by that fact that this wasn't something that was typically done in the High Elf city.  They were above that sort of thing, or so they thought.

The High Elf that had sanctioned Theolaerynn's father had a lot of power and was thus not sentenced to the death he deserved, but was rather 'retired' to the country, where he would live for a while in luxurious boredom until people forgot about the incident.

Theo was enraged!  It took John a long time to convince him that anger was a useless emotion, and that all it did was make people do stupid things like seek vengeance.  Vengeance, he said, was for the weak and undisciplined, and it did as much if not more harm to the person seeking it than it did to the person it was delivered upon.

That was Johns first real lesson for Theo, and it was a very difficult one to understand.  But with time he did understand, and was able to let the anger go.

When he finally found the peace that comes from letting vengeance go, John taught him his second profound lesson by throwing a head at his feet.  Looking down at the face of his fathers murderer he came to understand Justice.

John's passing was very painful for Theo and he began to wander the world, paying his way as an investigator, staying for a few years here, and a few years there.  Brief moments in the life of an Elf.  Time spent in search of himself.

But now that he is an adult, older and wiser, he feels the need to do something more.  What that is he is not yet sure of, but he knows he will recognize it when he finds it.

Alston Nim, Rock Gnome Wizard 

Alston Nim was always a bright and curious child who loved to explore.  This got him into trouble on more than one occasion, usually resulting in a lecture from him mother and a stern look from his father.  He couldn't help himself, there was just so much to see and so little time.  He also never felt like he got into too much trouble, that was until the falling out.  He was rummaging around his neighbor's garden, playing and eating some vegetables (she always shared with his family, so why did it matter if he took some now).  The next thing he knows, his mother is there pulling him out and participating in a yelling match with the neighbor lady.  He remembers others looking on, his father showing up, and a few days later they were leaving the clan.  Alston felt ashamed of this for a very long time, not realizing until years later that this was the final straw in a brewing feud that went back years.  His parents never spoke of the true reason for the feud, just that it wasn't really Alton's fault.  At the time all he knew was that it was his fault, and he would never see his friends again.

The Nim family found themselves a new home many weeks travel from where they had previously lived, settling in a small cave complex that was large enough for their family, with room to spare.  He remembers his parents stating that this was a fresh start in a place where they could grow their family beyond just Alston.  This excited Alston, the thought of a sibling, and he decided it was up to him to prepare for what must be the imminent arrival of a little brother.  He was allowed to roam the surrounding area after what seemed like an eternity of being stuck in the cave, looking at the same old rocks.  He felt like he could live again, with so much area to explore it was an exciting time.  It was imperitive that he find areas to explore with his new brother, though curiosity always drove him to fully explore these new areas alone.

One day he was following the rock face of his home, and he ventured a bit further than his mother allowed.  The whole area was overtaken with vines and bushy plants, but behind this he discovered a tiny opening about his size.  Crawling inside, he discovered bones that belonged to some bipedal creature, a long stick, a book, and some rock with symbols carved on them.  The bones initially made him recoil in fear, but his curiosity again took over and he got closer.  One hand was grasping the stick, and both hands were extended toward the opening.  The pages were almost completely disentigrated, but he could make out what seemed like words in a language he had never seen before.  He had learned to read a few years before, so this new language intrigued him.  The same letters or symbols appeared on the stone, but he wasn't sure what it was.  The dark didn't help, so he thought a fire would help.  He had watched his mom do this for many years, and during the recent excursions he got bold enough to borrow the thing used for lighting fires and wanted to experiment with it.  After lighting a fire he found that he still couldn't read the letters on the stone, even holding it up close to the light.  That's when he realized how close he actually was, but the fire didn't hurt.  That is, it didn't hurt until he dropped the stone, then the pain was immediate.  He tried to grab the stone and back away at the same time, but the moment he touched the stone he realized that he no longer felt the heat, only the pain from the burn remained and that was even minimized.

Over the next few months he would take more excursions to the cave to study his finding even more.  It was always frustrating as he didn't have enough info to learn this new language.  It was on one of these excursions that it finally happened: his father found him.  Alston was studying the rock and the book when suddenly the little light that came from the cave entrance was blotted out and a shape approached.  The space inside was so small he had no place to run to, so he was stuck, and then he heard the familiar voice of his father: "So what have you been up to son?".  Alston braced for the worst, but instead his father used a calm tone, and seemed genuinely interested.  Over the next few minutes his father explained who he really is: a wizard who had been searching for a fellow wizard that had never returned from a quest.  Alston had so many questions, he had only heard of wizards in bedtime stories, he didn't think they were real or that his father was one.  His mind reeling, he barely registered what his father was asking of him, to repeat a phrase.  The words made no sense, but he said them, and suddenly a light appeared, momentarily blinding him.  He heard a satisfied "Hmph" from his father, then the words that would change the trajectory of his life: "Son, I think you have an affinity for magic, would you like to follow in your father's footsteps?"

What followed was confirmation of his magical ability by other wizards, basic studying, and some trials.  His mother was not happy, she didn't want to part ways with him so early in life, but her father assured her it was for the best.  He heard things like "lots of power" and "to protect both you and him".  Alston couldn't understand this, he would never hurt his mother.  Did his father think he was a bad child?  But before he knew it, his father was there again, in front of him and with his mother weeping and saying it would be okay.  He wouldn't be away forever, just for a little while.  Looking back, he's not sure if she was lying to him or to herself.

A little while turned into months, then into years.  Sure, he got to see his mother occasionally and return to his home (now with a little brother and sister), but each visit got shorter, and the time between visits grew longer.  He was kept busy with reading in the vast library and practices in the yard.  In the beginning were basic spells like light and protection, but before he'd be allowed on a quest he had to learn offensive spells as well.  To be allowed this level of power, he had to gain maturity, which meant more study time, and more time with defensive spells.  Maturity was slow to arrive, slower than his patience.  He tried to find a way into the part of the library where the damage tomes were stored, but each time he was kicked out and reprimanded.  Just like his time as a child when he was out exploring, he finally got his wish and found a way to one of the tomes that had Magic Missile.  He memorized the words, returned the book, and made his way outside.  He quickly checked to be sure he was alone, then he said the words he read in the book.  He could feel the power course through him as he stared at the practice dummy, but instead of firing bolts of energy, they blew up directly in front of him.  He was knocked back and a circle of bare earth appeared where he had been standing, dirt and grass flying.

He awoke some time later in the infirmary, his father at his side.  Upon waking, his father gave him the same stern look that he hated as a kid, got up, and walked out.  Alston's ego and feelings were as hurt as his body.  Through accelerated healing he was physically ready to return to studies, but mentally he wasn't and his teachers refused to let him near the library or the practice yard for a month.  Over time he was able to make ammends with his teachers, but he knew that they would never forget what he did.  He may have been a child, but they had expected more.

Several years of study and practice went by, including the study of offensive spells, and it was time to go on a quest.  He was paired with two older instructors and several his approximate age; he outshone the other children through his ability to solve puzzles and to take down enemies that the other children couldn't.  After performing just as well in several more quests, he was put on the fast track to gaining the title of Wizard.  After a dozen such quests, he no longer went out with other children but instead went as an apprentice, being the only child in a group of adult Wizards.

Upon reaching the age of 18, he was allowed to leave the school with the title of Wizard.  His father had long ago returned home to be with his wife, and to protect that region from the forces of evil, but he returned for the graduation ceremony.  Alston never did return home, his thirst for knowledge and adventure providing too much pull.  The day will come when he returns home, it's just that today is not that day.  He knows that there are countless caves out there just like the one he discovered as a child, each potentially harboring some new creature to document or tome to read.  He spent his adolescence reading the accumulated knowledge of many authors, some day his own knowledge will reside among the others.

Perils of the Sapphire Sea

A new campaign using the Burning Wheel RPG by Luke Crane.

I finally have the opportunity to introduce a long-time friend,  Geoff Spakes, to the Burning Wheel system.  He's a big fan of Fate, so BW seems like a great fit.  We'll only get to play occasionally, but a little is better than none at all.

The Burn:  We've decided to play in a real-world analog of 1725.  In our world, however, magic is real.  Over the centuries, as technology has developed and religion has spread, magic has weakened and become almost non-existent in Europe.  The Church of the Holy Roman Empire has spread throughout Europe, banning the use of magic and burning those who practice it.  Many Europeans chose to flee to the new world, establishing colonies on the east coast of North America, where they are free to practice the magic that their ancestors used and enjoyed.

Sir Aiden Hogan-Greaves

Great Britain is one of the few European powers that still maintains its independence from the iron rule of the Church, but it's a war they are losing.  Desperate, the King sent emissaries to the Caribbean, where, rumor has it, can be found a substance which grants incredible magical energy to those who know how to use it.  This is a weapon, the King hopes, that can be used to win the war and secure the continued independence of the British Isles.

Only one man returned,  Sir Aiden Hogan-Greaves, the grandson of one of Britain's last great witches.  He brought with him a pearl-sized chunk of an azure colored substance.  The King's alchemists were astounded and declared the substance the very physical manifestation of magic.  They called it "Blue Coal".  Possession of such a substance, in larger quantities, could ensure the safety and security of His Majesty's kingdom and see a revival of magic on an unprecedented scale.

Blue Coal

The only problem, Aiden confessed, was that the substance was known to the Pope and other government bodies.  Surely, they would also be sending agents to secure the substance.  Additionally, the element was closely guarded and monitored by the Aztlan Empire, the prevailing power in the Western hemisphere.  Blue Coal powers their technology and their magic and they are unwilling to give up its secret to world powers that would use it to upset their dominance in the region.  Sending a fleet to the Caribbean would draw too much attention and surely be considered an unprovoked act of hostility by the Aztlan Empire.  Likewise, the King has very few ships that he can spare as they are needed in the war against the  Holy Roman Empire and its allies.

Sir Kennit Greaves

The King decided to turn to The Black Watch.  The Watchmen, as they are called, are the King's secret society of spies and informers.  The Black Watch would dispatch one of their best men to accompany Sir Hogan-Greaves back to the New World to investigate the phenomenon known as Blue Coal and see to acquiring it for the Crown.  The best man available, as it turned out, was Sir Kennit Greaves, cousin to Sir Hogan-Greaves.  Sir Greaves, an ex-Pirate recently returned to the good graces of His Majesty's government, has extensive contacts in that part of the world and has the resources and abilities to allow him to successfully complete the mission.  If he can't do it, it cannot be done.

H.M.S. Harpy

Together, they set out aboard the H.M.S. Harpy to Kingston, Jamaica, where Sir Hogan-Greaves had acquired his sample of Blue Coal from an Aztlan mystic, to begin their investigation.

To be continued....

The Journal of the ex-Lord High Constable, Part 9

I was woken in the early hours by Allaster informing me that Vijur was meeting with the Duke and Earl Esben. I suspected Esben would attempt further subterfuge. However I decided to let him play his game, because I don’t plan on playing it with him, I’m going to smash the board and bring down his world come the morning. It will also be a good opportunity for our future king to show himself to not be easily manipulated, or further prove to me how unready to rule he will be.

At dawn the captains and lieutenants of the North mustered as I ordered.  The Duke may have taken it upon himself to hastily appoint Cuylar Dane as my successor. But it is a military matter. And as such should be handled with the appropriate customs. When I handed Cuylar my pin of office, I could feel the old rivalry between me and him wash away.

Having Cuylar on my side is of absolute importance to me. I need to have someone I can rely upon in the coming future to take up position as Lord High Constable, and I could think of no better man.

After the short ceremony I introduced Cuylar to Magnus, and welcomed talks of the elven treaty he brought to the city at a later date. Even if I fail today I was assured that matters would be appropriately handled.

I then took Cuylar aside and gave him my first command as Regent of Dorn. Or rather a command to be enacted the exact moment I become Regent. With Conall’s deciphered documents I presented him with evidence of Earl Esben’s involvement in manipulating the realm. More importantly a list of locations and persons within Erenhead who work or belong to him. Together we created a strategy to simultaneously assault all of Esben’s holdings and arrest his agents. It was an ambitious plan, and we didn't have much time to prepare it. But between us I am confident in our victory, I must strike while the iron is hot!

Marching the the arena, I ensured Erenhead knew of my arrival. The city was quiet with anticipation. As if it was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen. Our drums and bagpipes shattered the silence with Dornish anthems of our nation's past greatness. As I passed the common folk, they saw the future ruler. They saw that I was bringing back an era of that greatness.

At the arena however, not was all it should have been. Vijur stood side by side with Earl Esben and the Duke.

I knew our dear king was easily manipulated. But this?

A proclamation was read. Duke Ivass Tourbalt was to step down, anointing Vijur as the true king of Dorn. Of course with the addition of Earl Esben acting as regent.

I was ready to denounce Earl Esben before the people. But in his new position I had to adjust my words. Calling for the musicians to play their instruments over the crowds uproar, I turned their attention back to me and said my piece.

I called out to the people.

I called out that I came here as a true honourable Dorn. Here to lay an end to an era of treachery.

I called out for house Redgard, and that I would lead our country back into greatness.

I called out Earl Esben’s intrigue. I exposed his lies and threats he had made. Producing the finger of my boy I told the people how he was trying to use my family as leverage over me.

I called out that Dorn would not stand for this manipulation any longer.

Cuylar Dale rose and backed my claims. At that point things had turned and everyone knew it.

Every house present had listened to me. I was no longer the only one calling for Esben blood. The signal given our soldiers closed in and arrested Esben

.

Most people present failed to notice the flaming arrow that shot into the sky. Not me. I approached the dais with the knowledge that as I walked up the steps; Esben’s web of intrigue was being pulled down across the entire city.

The moment changed when Jahzir: Outraged by the unfolding events. Called out the dishonour of the whole thing, and took it upon himself to end the Dukes life. Without hesitation Vijur drove Wyrmclaw into Jahzir’s chest. Magnus and the available Galdrs tried their best so save the Sharif’s life, but after much effort failed.

This was a great waste of a good life. Jahzir, although headstrong was a man worthy of respect. And his killing may put Dorn in a difficult position diplomatically. I hadn’t banked on having to deal with such matters so early of my coming to power.

With the drama ended, all eyes remained on the stage. Calling out for a hail to King Vijur Dane and Regent of the realm Fergus Redgard, everyone kneeled. As I stood there with Vijur, I saw  uncertainty in his eyes.

However as regent I bear no uncertainty.

I shall be steadfast for the sake of Dorn.

Honour the name.

From the Journal of Magnus Sedrig, Session 9

Towerday the 2nd of Redfall 890 TA - Afternoon

I was rudely shaken awake by a messenger. Apparently Fergus Redguard had requested my presence at a meeting of some sort, and it has very important that I attended. I still hadn’t fully recovered from the previous day's exertions but given the current fragile situation it seemed sensible to assist my new allies in any way possible. Rest can come later.

The meeting was a discreet affair, Fergus had gathered the military leaders of the northern houses to assure their loyalty to the true king Vijur and convince them the Duke was not worthy of support. I agreed with most of what was said, and so kept quiet until the Eredane Compact was mentioned. This was my cue to give the now well-practiced spiel about how Izrador would soon return and we must be ready to unite against him, the Duke’s refusal to recognize the compact put the security of the nation in jeopardy. I was taken more seriously this time, in part due the presence of Kylar Dale and Fergus, but also because I had an actual living breathing member of the Caransil standing right there next to me. Lensa has refused to leave my side since our reunion and received a few curious glances, it’s hard to remember that most men have never seen an Elf.

With the exception of house Esben, who I believe Fergus has been feuding with since killing their assassin at the feast, most of the lords seemed to be swayed to our side. The meeting dissolved, and afterwards I offered to assist Fergus in any way he saw fit. The duel was only a few hours away, and I really would have preferred he win. Fergus asked if I could make his voice more impressive, so I conjured up a quick enhancement spell to amplify his already impressive bellow.

All too quickly, it was time for the Duel. I took my place in the crowd gathering in the great arena, next to my father. The assembled spectators waited in quiet tension as Redguard procession made it’s way through the city, the obnoxious squawking of their pipe band growing slowly louder. Vijur, the Duke and Sharif Ka’Mael were visibly arguing about… something, which was very curious. Finally, Fergus arrived at the head of his parade and the Duke immediately began spouting orders. I don’t recall the exact words: the Duke was abdicating,Vijur would rule alone as the sole monarch and Fergus was to be arrested for treason! I don’t know how, but someone got to Vijur, convinced him to turn on Fergus. I suspected he might have been ensorcelled by a Galdr, but he didn’t seem to bear the telltale signs of magical influence. The Sharif was furious, ranting about honour and such things to Arik, clearly the man had been hoping for a fight and didn’t approve of this sudden change of plans.

Obviously, Fergus wasn’t going to just surrender himself and he was protected by dozens of his own men. Not enough to win a direct bloody conflict, but enough to cause hesitation, no one wants to be the first to charge a Huscarl shield wall. Fergus took the opportunity to throw himself into another one of his epic speeches. It was a long one, so for brevity's sake I will summarize: the Duke is a puppet of Lord Esben, Lord Esben is the true power behind the throne and has been manipulating events to suit his own selfish ends, Fergus has proof of these claims and house Reguard is the only house that can lead the Dorn through the troubles to come. With Vijur’s consent obviously.

Perhaps it was my magic, perhaps it was natural charisma, probably a bit of both.  The Lords of Dorn  absorbed his words and a general murmur of agreement began to emerge, punctuated by the occasional “here here” and “yeah!”. Even Vijur was convinced, and humbly agreed to honour the original arrangement with House Redguard. When it was clear the tables had turned, the Duke began to make a move, attempting to slip away. Before he got very far the Sharif was upon him, blocking the coward’s retreat. The Duke was decapitated in one swift slice from the Sharif’s blade, but Vijur reacted instantly, seemingly on instinct, and drove his magical blade Wyrmclaw through the Sharif’s chest in retaliation!

The Sharif slid off the sword and fell to the floor, immediately Arik was at his side. He held his brother in his arms, desperately pleading for help as a circle of shocked nobles formed. Vijur demanded “help this man!”, the guilt of his rash action audible in the higher pitch of his voice. I pushed my way through the crowd to the fallen man, Lensa following close behind. Together, with the assembled court Galdrs, we tried to cease the influence of Wymrclaw’s powerful magic as the Sharif’s wound blackened and spoiled. I channeled every scrap of Aedra I could muster into fighting that magic, the effort drained me and my assistants to the verge of unconsciousness but eventually we proved no match for such power. Our magic failed, and the Sharif was dead.

I feel guilty for failing to save Arik’s brother, but today’s events will have a positive influence on the kingdom going forward. We have a strong, honourable family in control of the throne, backed by the legitimate heir. We are finally free from the Duke’s influence, and the puppet master Esben is exposed. Control of the Sarcoasan war host has fallen to Arik, a much cooler headed and sensible man than his late Brother. We have a long way to go, but it is a start.

Over the coming months, I must set about the task of negotiating an alliance between the Dorn, the Sacrosans and the Caransil. I must also carefully the Black Mirror, to ascertain if it can be destroyed or contained or even used against its master. We must be prepared for the return of the shadow!

From the Journal of Magnus Sedrig, Session 8

Towerday the 2nd of Redfall 890 TA - Midnight

I intercepted Sunulael as his retinue approached the city gates. I simply rode up on my horse, blocked his path, and demanded an audience. The tall man met my gaze and immediately I  knew I was in grave danger. My spine turned to ice, bile churned in my guts, the repulsive influence of tainted Aerdra poured from those black eyes. I must confess I wanted to run, but this was a true servant of Izrador standing before me, a manifestation of everything I’ve sworn to fight!

I pretended not to notice anything awry and the Sahi and I engaged in some polite discourse about the state of his elven “guest”. He assured me she was in good health and not being kept against her will, but if I insisted on verifying this for myself he would gladly welcome me to his tent as a guest tonight. This was obviously a trap, if I entered this man's tent I would never return, but if I let him go then I might never have had another opportunity to get close to him. I accepted his invitation.

As we walked back towards the Sarcosan camp we talked of my history and how I found myself in the service of Queen Aradil. I left nothing out, placing particular emphasis on the part about Izrador rising and my mission to warn the kingdoms of man. I asked him how he came to serve his current master (not the emperor, his new master) and he put on a show of amused ignorance. I was trying to goad the Sahi into revealing his true nature, just to be sure, and when that didn’t work I directly accused him of being a traitor. I believe my exact words were “Are you the one that ordered Arik killed?”.

Sunulael

Sunulael responded to my accusation with patronizing mock offence, the smug bastard sounded more amused than offended. Of course he had nothing to do such events, he has so, so hurt by the accusation. In the story books I used to read as a child, this is exactly how a villain acts. At this point I did something very stupid. I reasoned that if we reached the Sarcosan camp it would be very difficult to take action against their holy man, if I was going to make a move it had to be now. Without wasting any more time on pleasantries I drew upon the Aerdra and conjured a storm of sorcerous fire, immolating Sunulael and his toadies.

Well, that was the idea anyway. I felt the magic pour from my fingertips, twist through the air and stream directly into Sunulael’s open palm. The Dark Sorcerer was ripping my spell from the ether and absorbing it! I tried to cease the flow of magic, but it was like trying to stop a river with your hands, the flow was just too strong. As my magic was sapped so was my strength, and soon I felt the comforting blackness of unconsciousness overwhelm me.

I’m not sure what happened after that. I vaguely remember distant, angry voices and then I awoke on a comfortable couch, my sword and boots missing. I was in a large Sarcosan tent with one of the Sahi’s attendant women forcing hot tea down my throat. I couldn’t feel the comforting presence of the Aerdra and feared I had been permanently robbed of my gift. Shortly, Sunulael arrived and had me dragged to a back room. Immediately I felt the corrupt influence of the Black Aerdra, emanating from an enormous, black… mirror, I suppose you’d call it, on the far side of the room. My limbs were bound and I was roughly tossed down next to an unconscious elven woman. I recognized Lensa’s delicate features immediately, and the intense hatred I felt towards the traitor Sahi began to burn away the stupor entrapping me.

Meanwhile, Sunulael was monologuing about something. He had important things planned, this was in everyone’s best interest… something like that, I don’t recall exactly. I was focusing entirely on planning my escape and his demise. Soon, I got my chance to act, we heard the sounds of massed troops marching outside and Sunulael left to assess the situation. Shortly, the clash of steel and general din of battle could be heard from my position. I didn’t know what was occurring outside, but it was a golden opportunity to act! I reached out for the Aerdra once again, attempting to burn my bonds away and free myself. Unfortunately I wasn’t quite strong enough yet, and one of the gargantuan eunuchs that the Sahi keeps as pets rewarded my efforts with a forceful punch to the head.

I came to my senses as the bastard sorcerer returned, a furious scowl upon his face. His sickening aura had grown to be almost unbearable now, and I had to fight the urge to physically wretch. Sunulael ordered his underlings to remove the mirror and then strode across the room towards Lensa, reaching for her. In that moment my rage burnt so fiercely it could have melted stone, I charged like a wild beast at the traitor Sahi and funnelled every last dreg of magic into radiating sorcerous flame. I burnt my own flesh to immolate the abomination within my embrace, but immolate him I did.

As Sunulael’s skin disintegrated beneath me, a dense swarm of black flies poured from his robes and streamed into the night air. The dark sorcerer was vanquished, for now, though I felt I hadn’t seen the last of him. The Sahi’s attendants were stunned, for a moment, and then one of the women in white began to weave a spell. I was too weak to defend myself, but before I had time to contemplate my impending death an arrow appeared in the witch’s chest. Arik stood at the entrance, bow in hand.

Arik made it clear we were now even, and we shared our stories of the events since we were last together. Apparently he witnessed Sunulael’s band dragging my limp body back to camp and demanded my release. When that didn’t work, Arik convinced the host to launch a full coup against their own Sahi which, if my understanding of Sarcosan culture is correct, is quite a feat. If his brother falls in tomorrow’s duel, I am confident that the warhost will be in safe hands.

We ordered the Black Mirror, and the other corrupt artefacts, buried and kept under guard. I will investigate them later, to ascertain whether they can be destroyed, but I need time and energy to do so. I caught up with Lensa, apparently she stowed away on the Grey Lady to warn me the Queen’s court had already been compromised, and was eventually discovered and ultimately betrayed by the ship’s captain.

After a long, eventful day, I finally took the opportunity to use the The Spirit of Erethor and contact my Queen.  I warned her that the Sarcosan court had been infiltrated by the enemy, and to not trust any Man from those lands, or any Elf that had been in contact with them recently. She informed me that her own court had already been compromised, the servants of Izrador are already positioning themselves to undermine her power!

Kylar Dale, the new constable of the north, arrived demanding that Arik and myself to explain the evening’s strange occurrences of the night. I told Lord Dale the truth, most of it anyway, and he seemed to believe me. House Dale knows better than most the threat of the shadow from the north. Not seeming particularly enthusiastic about carrying out the Duke’s orders, Lord Dale bid me good night and took his leave. Thankful to finally have a chance to rest, I returned to the tent provided for and immediately passed into a deep and well earned slumber.