Saille's Story

Saille was a beautiful tree nymph. A dryad.

She wore no clothes. Her skin was smooth, eternally youthful, and pale green; her hair flowing locks of brown.

Saille lived in a willow tree. It was her home.

Her home was deep in a very old forest far away from anyone.

Saille had responsibilities. She was a dryad, a guardian spirit, after all. She tended the forest, the trees, the birds and insects and animals. Saille helped heal the sick. And she kept the fire away.

It was this way for Saille since she could remember and Saille had a long memory.  She recalled when the towering evergreens were just saplings, and when the biggest elms fell to rot, decay, and produce acres of mushrooms; when the chipmunks' litters were due; when the each acorn would fall from the trees. She recalled exactly when the winds would blow and litter the forest floor with branches and leaves, and when the grasses would grow, and when the rocks would be dry. Saille knew exactly when the colors of autumn would explode, and when the new blossoms were exposed to the sun. And she remembered the day when the earth shook all around.

Saille remembered that day, that day the most.

She remembered that day because it was the last day that she felt good inside.

Saille awoke that day to many aches and pains. She felt intense cramps in her legs. Her home - her tree - had a coldness in its roots that spread throughout its trunk, branches, and droopy limbs. It shivered, as did she, for both of them were afflicted. She felt a sincere sadness deep within her, but yet not within her, for the sadness was projected from elsewhere; it was the culmination of fear, horror, terror, and grief that flowed south-by-southwest, through the roots of every tree in the forest, to touch her tree. Emotion transmitted instantly from hundreds of miles away. She felt an intensity of sadness from others of her kind, and from the grasses, the shrubs, the trees, the forest itself, just as the very earth violently erupted and convulsed. The earthquake shook the land. It uprooted and toppled both young and old tree. It bludgeoned the tendrils of tender roots and vines and plant stalks.  The forest writhed in pain.

And the pain manifested in Saille's body just as you or I might feel the punishment of a sledgehammer, swung high and brought down upon our bodies to smash, pound, break bone, and bruise flesh. She felt all of it - the fear, the pain, the terror - and she felt such immense sadness.

The earthquake would soon end and for days on end the aftershocks jolted Saille, made her flinch, disrupted her sleep. She couldn't shake the sadness, the feelings of fear and regret. In the moons that followed, the animals would sense the wrongness of things and pursue unusual patterns - walk when they should fly; sleep when they should hunt; hibernate when they should be shedding their fats; stay under the rocks instead of greet the sun. The whole land mourned and Saille mourned with it.

Then one day, the spots appeared. Brown spots that raced up her legs, over her hips and chest, and covered her arms. The spots was an aggressive fungus. A disease to Saille and to her home, for the willow also contracted the brown spots all across its trunk and leaves.

She concentrated, tried to communicate to the fungus to ask it, Why? Why do you harm me? But the fungus would not obey her. It ignored her, in fact, and spoke nothing to the nymph. It only wickedly tried to consume her. She tried to repel it, but it was too strong. She tried to undo it, but the fungus was too tenacious. It just kept on coming.

Moons would pass and Saille realized that her life was in jeopardy: the fungus was like a poison and it would literally end her physical expression unless that she took action. Realizing that her final days were upon her, she commanded her home to wrap her, strap her against the bark of her tree, to keep her flesh warm and close, to hold and hug her in the final days. At her call, vines wrapped about her and lashed her to her tree. Her body would soon atrophy, her flesh become bark, her skin the texture of leaves, as her body was absorbed into the willow tree.

Throughout those long, last days, as she endured the poison coursing through her being, she tried to reach out to her sisters, other nymphs who were connected to the forest as she was, only to realize - with fearful dread - that they, too, were under attack. That her sisters were equally the target of the encroaching fungus that consumed their physical beings. She would die soon, she knew it, and she reached out her mind into the forest.

Everywhere is pain, said the trees. Can you help?

Saille said. I cannot; I am dying.

The trees shuddered. Unfortunate. We suffer together.

I am covered in brown spots - a fungus attacks me and I cannot control it.

Wicked spots. Many of us are covered in spots. The spots burn.

On her deathbed, her body slowly being absorbed into her home tree, Saille concentrated with the last scrap of will that she could bring rise to.  

From whence come the spots? From whence comes the scourge?

Many of our kind suffer in the northeast, replied the trees. Their wails and intense sorrow and pain and fear can be felt all around. 

I feel it, said Saille.

Isn't it beautiful, asked the trees. It is a singular and most perfect horror.

The trees were quiet for a while.

Saille asked, What drives this pain?

And the trees said nothing.

Answer me, commanded Saille. What drives this pain?

There was silence.

Saille, weak as death was befalling her, poured the last of her energy into her question.

Answer me, she commanded again.

When the trees spoke, they spoke with a different voice. They spoke with the inflection of a separate, more alien consciousness, that was not that of the trees, but that of something more angry, more bitter and spiteful, than what any tree could possibly be, as if the voice of the trees were quieted and suppressed as another spoke:

Wytchweed, it said. It comes from ... me ...

And at that moment, Saille's physical form expired. Her body exhaled its last breath. Saille the Dryad was no more.

R

Describing Elfhome (Zalam Medina)

The Elfhome (Zalam Medina) is a place of dispair and darkness.

It's nested within a network of caves and tunnels in the Underdark that resemble a sponge: circular caverns, porous, cut from both ancient lava and water. When the party approached this geologic formation, they noted that it would be easy to get lost in these tunnels, and that it was like a maze. You'd have to be very good at direction-sense to find your way in and out. Khal'd'fae seemed intimately familiar with the caves. It took a two-day march through these caves to arrive at the Elfhome.

There are hundreds of small to medium caves throughout the network of tunnels; there are relatively fewer larger caves where a hundred people or less could gather; there are just two main caverns which could be seen as major concentration areas and where larger structures are found.

The colony of Drow number to nearly one thousand and most live in absolute squalor. Their clothing are just tattered rags and cloth. Most familial units live together in open tunnels or caves that they've claimed over the years. They amass their meager belongings and property into these spaces and subsist, raise young children, or idle their time. Some live eight to fifteen in a single small cave.

There are some places and homes with doors, reinforcing beams, furniture, or ladders crafted from the wood of the strange Underdark trees. There are many objects crafted from stone - and not by chisel and hammer, as Gorbash and Tamroohk would note - but by some force of will or magic. Most of these things the Drow created are functional in nature. But there are some structures that have been carved from wood or stone that are amazing pieces of art that showcase their talents and heritage. Intricate carvings,

It is quickly noted that not all Drow are equal here.

Most of the citizens are smelly, dirty, unbathed, black-skinned and bright-white haired with almond-shaped silver eyes, and they only speak their native language. The population is obviously young, breeding, and thriving - it's overbalanced in youth, in fact, with very few elder populations. They spend their days performing labors, working together for a common whole. All resources like food and water are rationed and redistributed in orderly ways to the masses. There are domesticated forms of protein (goats, sheep, dogs, chickens, smaller birds that resemble quail but aren't) that they keep in cages within the caves; they appear sullen and sickly, their interbreeding obvious. There are vegetation farms in other caves where they harvest eatable tubers, plants, and mushrooms that can grow in the Underdark. Water is amassed from a variety of sources - you learn - that exist within a 50 mile radius of the Elfhome. Water and food are redistributed every day through a centralized process.

Yet there is a subset of Drow that are well-groomed, bathed, their hair braided and combed, who live in private caves with doors and shuttered holes in their caves that function as windows. Some of them wear brilliant jewelry. Some of them would appear quite older than the young unwashed masses. These Drow would appear to be part of a patriarchal aristocracy. Those in the aristocracy form their political leadership and make decisions for the entire colony. But even the aristocracy is found standing in those lines for food and water. The party would be surprised to note that some aristocrats actually help with the labor and manual chores too eek out a living here. Despite their trappings, they're just as much at the mercy of their citizen's good graces to eat every day, and although they carry a certain dignity about themselves and their manners, they're still just as hungry as everyone else. Some of these aristocrats are kind and compassionate. Others are spiteful and full of repressed rage.

There is a militia comprised of perhaps 150 young Drow who would remind you of Abja'fae and Qazan'fae: extremely young, untrained, untested, just coming of age. Like the Drow party you've encountered, their weapons are primarily bow and arrow and spear; they have little to no armor; they're trained to do little more than hunt and crowd control. They help with resource distribution and keeping the peace.

The militia is commanded by five veterans who've seen war and conflict, and who've some seasoning. Khal'd'fae is one of them. Khal is recognized as their leader only by birthright - he is not their senior - and there is one of these veterans who might be two hundred years older than Khal with more military experience, but is still subordinate to Khal's family. In meeting them, the party would note that they've ancestral weapons and armor that've been handed down through generations - they've long lost the ability forge and craft intricate weapons made from steel. 

The Dwarves are immediately accepted by these veterans who wish to speak of military matters, mining, basic forging techniques, help with maintaining their ancient armor and weapons.

The oldest veteran's name is Dwa'd'fae, and he is a Battle Master of sufficient level that could train Gorbash to 8th Level. Another veteran is Wyan'd'fae, a Champion, would could train Tamroohk to 7th Level. The veterans would be willing to train them in exchange for knowledge and understanding of basic dwarven mining, forging, metalwork, and weapons upkeep.

Another veteran - Qwyn'd'fae - is of sufficient level in Ranger to train Elan to 8th Level. Qwyn'd'fae is a Beast Master and has a kettle of trained hawks that he would proudly show to Elan. They hunt for small game in the Underdark. His favorite hawk is named Emerald Sun in Elvish, and she is beautiful. Qwyn'd'fae would be happy to train Elan and show her the Faewalks in this part of the Underdark for a small piece of her soul. Qwyn'd'fae says Elan's soul is unique and seems extrasensory. Elan was slightly taken back by that, but, there's apparently a blood ritual that the Drow perform that promises a sliver of her soul be pledged to Qwyn'd'fae in the afterlife. Qwyn'd'fae almost trivializes it, and in conversations with Khal, he explains that he's seven pledges of his soul to other Drow ... in a space where nobody has anything but their souls and bodies, it seems to be fair currency.

Tolman would be quick to note that there's an underground organization here - a thieves' guild - that Jeu'd'fae would be more than comfortable to introduce him to. Jeu would also characteristically be shy about mentioning an assassins' guild or where he - sometimes - disappears to, but it's obvious to Tolman that the cunning nature of the Drow race would only preclude that kind of thing. The guild exists mainly to punish others who thieve without sharing with the guild and its members, and to distribute exotic things pilfered from the aristocrats, or, found by happenstance in the surrounding caves and environs. Tolman is quickly accepted here - the Drow seem to identify with an "other" very easily - and Tolman's experience with magic makes him easy to get along with. Yet if you asked Tolman if he'd like to spend more than a few hours alone with anyone from the guild in those dark lonely caves that even he's uncertain how to find his way around without Jeu ... well, he'd be extremely nervous ... but Jeu'd'fae does introduce Tolman to some nameless Drow that could train him in general Rogue skills and Assassin skills, but alas, no Arcane Tricksters. Tolman can be trained, but the mysterious Drow who won't give their name wants a tribute - money, gems, jewelry, something - to conduct the transaction.

There are no magicians or schools of magic here, as one of think, as the Drow live in abject ignorance and poverty. Ma'yah feels very out of sorts here as this setting would be tremendously afar from her wealthy, learned upbringing in Rhackdalia. She would feel most comfortable around an elder aristocrat woman named Rhand'fae who Khal'd'fae introduced the party to. Rhand'fae is a wizened woman who has spent many years on this earth and has many stories to tell - histories, lore, tall and small tales. She is charming, kind, artistic, graceful, and speaking with her in her native tongue is like listening to poetry. She is so old that she speaks even a variant form of Elvish ... something older than what all of these other Drow are using. It was Rhand'fae who revealed the history of the colony and their exodus from the Northern Palasades, a thousand miles to the west of the Aljahim Alssahra.

Rhand'fae is a Bard of significant level. In listening to her stories, Llew quickly summizes that she's better than a college - she's centuries of experience. With help interpreting her language, Llew could be trained by Rhand'fae to 8th Level Bard.

Further, there are no Drow clerics here. None. Rhand'fae is able to tell Siegride of legends long past, worship of Loth, that was worshiped by her grandmother, but it has been so very long that even Rhand'fae doesn't remember too many details about those practices. Loth was sinister, evil, angry. It was the worship of Loth that was a factor that pushed the Drow from the Northern Palasades. Rhand'fae says that they abandoned Loth as She abandoned them.

But that doesn't preclude one cleric, a Priest of the Faceless God, Jake Ross. Jake Ross has a cave that he's called his own for several years now, and it's there that he privately studies, prays, pays homage to his deity. With his newfound ability to create food and water, to heal, and to talk more about hope than about death and survival, it is not long before Jake Ross has attracted two Drow females interested more in Phedarge, and spend time with him as he prays, and he begins training them in the ways of Phedarge in his meager cave. In his conversations with the Drow, Jake draws on his experience traveling between here and Seattle - by way of Tanelorn - to find his way. In conversations with Siegride, Jake confides that he will need to find a larger cave by which to attract more people and to build his ministry, and is already speaking to others about that. It's obvious to Siegride that Jake has a captive audience here ... thirsty for something else in their lives besides survival. They seek meaning. Jake will flourish here, over time.

Daemon sticks close to Ma'yah. He doesn't trust any of these Drow and he's very frightened. He carries with him the crystal globe that was given to him by his master, to aid any of the party for returning to a place of their choosing.

The party discover other useful things about the Drow and their Zalam Medina.

• There are wild magic sorcerers and novice/amateur traditions. The Drow have innate spellcasting abilities and Ma'yah finds that intriguing. Ma'yah is curious about these wild magic casters, and would be curious in watching their rites and rituals and processes.
  
• The twins Qazan and Abja have many friends, and they're now the most skilled of their generation. They talk of the strangers as near Gods-on-Earth who make water and food, call lightning from the sky, battle masters who kill with deadly skill, and shoot with even Elvish precision. They talk the party up and everywhere the party goes, they are revered and respected to some degree (if not viewed skeptically or even with impolite long stares from others).
  
• Siegride often finds herself wanting to be alone. Where ever she goes in the Elfhome, there are reaching hands from the impoverished and hungry. They call for food, water, hope, health, insight, wisdom ... they are so needy ... and she's rightfully afraid to just start helping just one Drow, for the cascade effect that may create. They are so needy. Jake may help fill that void, over time, but not in the short term. And Siegride sees the stares, the skepticism, the fear, from some of the elite, the aristocrats, who look at Jake with such vile hate that Siegride fears for his life. Siegride reminds herself of what Rhand'fae pointed out, that it was religion - faith - in Loth that undid these Elves and cast them away from the Northern Palasades. Memories run long here. Jake may be in danger.
  
• Jeu'd'fae receives training in his discipline and often disappears for lengthy times.
  
• Khal'd'fae receives training from Qwyn'd'fae as well.
  

More to come.
R

Challenges of Faith

A Challenge of Faith (COF) is a moral or ethical question posed to the player of a cleric, and the players around the table anonymously vote on how good or bad their response was.

• A COF is a question or a statement that the Cleric player must respond to.
  

• A successful WIS Saving Throw performed by the Cleric player wins the COF.
  

• For an individual COF, the DC could be set manually.
• Successively, I'd use an increasing DC. Example: there is a DC8 calibration floor for question 0; the DC increments by 2 for every question thereafter; the questions get progressively tougher to answer.
• There is a score-based vote taken from the rest of the players that becomes a modifier to the Cleric's WIS Saving Throw.

• Players around the gaming table are asked to anonymously score the cleric’s response to each COF 1-5. The scores are totaled and an average (rounding down) is taken as a bonus to the cleric’s die roll. 
• Voting is performed to take the pulse of a moral/ethical response from other players around the table, and to influence the die roll.

• Mechanics:
  

• The COF is presented to the cleric.
  
• The cleric responds verbally to the COF.
  
• The vote is taken from the other players; the scores averaged; the bonus calculated.
  
• The player rolls against DC-x. The voting bonus is added to the roll.
  
• If the player makes the DC check, they win the COF.
• If the player fails the DC check, they lose the COF.
• A cumulative point system could be used with successive COF's, to meet some larger numerical threshold. Example: 1d10 points awarded per COF, 10 COF's, with a success threshold of 50 accumulated points.
• Succeeding at the the Challenges of Faith earns the PC some XP.

Ambush in the Underdark (4th - 8th of Allhallowstide, Rose: 47)

My name is Jake Ross.

And I think I died today.

Ten years ago, I was a resident of Seattle, Washington. I worked as a paramedic.

It was also the last time that I saw water, well, like lakes, rivers, streams ... drinkable bodies of water.

Jenni - she was my girlfriend - she and I decided to go to Burning Man. We went looking for an escape, looking for art, love, sex, and excitement out there on the playa; we found it. It was dizzying, intoxicating - we found others and spent who knows how many days and nights totally high, whacked out of our minds, just enjoying each others company. We called it Shangri La. Others, they called it Tanelorn. Whatever it was called, we didn't care. We were happy, together, and in love.

But hours turned into days then days into weeks. The party just kept on going. Jenni was getting nervous and said we should leave but the playa had changed. It was no longer a desert but swamps, then snowy cliffs, mountains, green grassland, tundra. Every day it would change. So when the desert returned and it looked like we were back home, I took Jenni in hand and we left. It was a leap of faith.

Out in the desert, the beating sun scorched us. We weren't prepared. And in six hours, we were attacked by what could only be called dragon-men. Jenni was dead. I was left as fucking vulture food.

I was found by a black-skinned, emerald-eyed nomadic tribesman named Khal who nursed me back to health. He didn't speak English. And, oh, he's a dark elf. They call themselves Drow. He taught me just enough of his language to know basic commands and instructions; he fed me; kept me safe; and, over time, I learned he called me slave. I guess I knew my place.

Yeah, it's been ten years since then and I've learned that Tanelorn - whatever - didn't drop me back on the playa. Far from it. I went somewhere else. Like, I fell into a Harry Potter novel or Tolkien for fuck's sake. I just thank God it wasn't a George R. R. Martin thing. I'd be long dead by now.

Anyway, today. Today I think I died.

Khal was in the lead. We were approaching the mukdah - the hideout - where four of his soldiers would be in-waiting for supplies that we were delivering to them; food, water, basic supplies. We'd done this many times before and he suspected nothing. The Drow twins - Qazan and Abja - didn't have their bows out and were busy telling each other jokes; and as usual, Jeu took up the rear, looking fatigued, skeptical.

But we weren't alone. We had strangers with us that we found in the desert. Oh man, real storybook stuff. A seriously-devout teenage priestess in flashy metal armor; a spellcasting witch with a quirky sense of humor and a need to collect spare body parts; two freekin' Dwarves - yah, no kidding - Dwarves, sporting axes, shields, all that dwarf shit, but also pies, for Christ's sake, fresh pies, made from some magic pie box; a good looking guy whose lute-singing-songs either made people crazy or created glowing orbs of exploding death appear out of nowhere, I swear; a tall backwoods red-headed chic who was a better shot with a bow than even Khal was, and hey, he was the best that I'd ever seen in my life; and this tiny guy that would be like Bilbo Baggins if Bilbo Baggins was a killer ninja who occasionally made you a decent breakfast.

When we all approached the mukdah, we were surprised to find the four soldier's slain bodies had been laid out in a ritualistic fashion, and a bevy of locusts were crawling out of one's body. Immediately, those locusts swarmed and were attacking our skin! To make matters worse, the Dragonmen with red scales emerged from the darkness! They were breathing fire on my friends, cornering them, keeping them within the swarm!

And just as everyone was reacting to the Dragonmen and trying to get out of the swarm, a massive column of fire appeared, swirling out of the darkness of the Underdark, causing a massive maelstrom of flame to erupt all around us! The insects were singed and were tossed all around; trees went up in flames and incinerated; those Dwarves' shadows were crouched in the fire. I fell to the ground. I felt pain and it was overwhelming.

I think I died.

When I came to, I felt burns all over my body; I could barely breathe; smoke was everywhere. I was being drug out of the middle of the insect swarm by the teenage priestess. She was shouting orders to the others just as those dead bodies of the soldiers were animated and staggering towards Khal and the twins, while more of those Dragonmen were attacking the rest of the party.

Just then, the insects dropped clean out of the air and a figure emerged from the last of the flaming maelstrom: six-foot tall, black braided hair, red plate armor, a wicked set of deformed pointy teeth, and a nasty looking mace that erupted in fire as she approached, marching right for the young priestess who was helping me! The Cleric of Tahkesis' feet swarmed with ethereal misty dragons that dove in and out of the stone floor, and she headed towards us with a murderous glare!

The priestess dropped me to the ground and stood in front of me, then, raised her shield, causing these ghostly eels to rise out of the floor and surround her! As the red cleric approached, the eels and the dragons confronted each other, eating and picking at each other, and she raised her flaming mace high and brought it down with shattering blows against my young friend! I could hear the mace sickeningly slam into her body and the evil red cleric raised her mace and smashed the priestess again! I could do nothing! I watched her fall, just as the ethereal dragons were eating at my flesh, and I passed out once more.

Then I think I died again.

When I came to, I was drug out of the way by the older red-headed woman who fed me some red liquid from a vial. Things weren't good. Khal's body was surrounded by ghoulish zombies that were eating his flesh; the twins and Jeu were down; the Dragonmen and Dwarves were locked in to mortal combat; the singing fella was doing his thing, and Bilbo was slashing at the backside of the distracted Dragonmen. The young woman was still down. The red-haired crack-shot fired deadly arrows into the body of the red cleric, just as the red cleric was going to knock the snot out of ninja-Bilbo.

Suddenly, just as I was getting to my feet, a Dragon-man's sword cut into me and I fell unconscious again.

Yep, three times. Dead. Right there. Bleeding out on the cavern floor.

And when I woke, the young priestess - mussed up but no longer bleeding or bruised - hovered over me. Khal and the twins were alive and firing arrows at the remaining Dragonmen! Ninja-Bilbo and the crazy witch had seemingly cornered another Cleric of Tahkesis, apparently this one a young teen, too, platinum white hair. It wasn't long before she was subdued and the Dragonmen slaughtered. I was pained, sore, but no longer bleeding, no open wounds. It was a miracle!

What happened next was a blur. I helped Jeu with my healing packs and helped him to rejoin the others. Meanwhile, the man-dwarf named Chasmjumper smashed in the face of the red cleric until it was a bloody stump, and the young priestess cut it off and threw it into a small hole she dug. The white cleric was taken, bound, gagged, and drug up to her feet. Everyone else was getting ready to leave. Khal in particular. He knew what was going to happen next.

"We must leave this place. Now." Khal said, and everyone was rushing back into the Underdark after him; I was helping Jeu lean on me as we rushed to get as far away from this place as we could. Khal was right. If we stayed too long, the Risen would come for their tribute, and none of us were in any condition to fight them.

The Risen - as I was told by the Drow - were powerful aristocrats and sorcerers of a long dead civilization of people who believed, when they died, they entered a flowing river of desert sand far beneath us. Flowing in that river of sand are the bodies of the dead and damned. The Risen can smell death. Just like a shark can sense the writhing of their prey from miles away, or, smell blood in the water from nearly ten miles away, the Risen can sense death. The death of men, or Drow. When they do, the Risen emerge from the ground, and they demand a toll. A toll, like, a tax, for life, a tribute. But they don't want rich things, money, that kind of shit. They want important things, important to you. Something that's emotionally relevant to you. If they don't get their tax, the Risen command the dead from that sea of the damned to rise up and attack you, adding you to their armies. I'd met the Risen three times. Each time, we didn't pay their tribute; we just ran - fast, hard - in the opposite direction, as they chewed on one of Khal's men who had, unfortunately, fallen behind. You know, it's like they say: you just have to be faster than the slowest guy. Yah, it's totally true.

The Risen never came. After five hours of pushing, Khal brought us to a distant grove in the Underdark. We made camp. Healed up. Jeu even asked for help from the young priestess; I'd never seen him soften up like that, but he was in bad straights. The party talked about where to go next and decided to return to the home of the Drow, and to a place Khal called Elfhome, and a place near there that he wished to show the young priestess; they questioned the white cleric; Khal reminded everyone that the Dragonkind would send more patrols and track them in the Underdark, and they needed to keep pressing south; the Clerics of Tahkesis would be relentless to return one of their own.

I asked the young priestess how I could come to know her goddess, Isthmeira, and Elan carved a holy symbol for me out of bone.

We traveled. Three days in, we encountered a Kenku named Ekom who traded information about the road ahead with us in exchange for water. The Kenku traded a bag of nuts. The Kenku said that water could be found at various points ahead, and that he saw hundreds of the Risen near a place called the Seaside Pyramids, some eight days away. The Kenku also said that he had passed nine men...

He passed nine human men. Ekom says that there are men here, humans. A band of nine, slaves to the Efretti Dajashakour, on a mission of mystical origin. They seemed lost. They were arguing amongst themselves. They seek something the Efretti wants from the Underdark; they seek a zalam shitana - a dark hag, a dark elf - but for what purposes, he does not know. They paid him well for information … Ekom knows of Faewalks and Landings...

Ekom also said that his good fortune came to a conclusion rather rapidly after that.

But my bounty and good fortune were seized by Minotaurs. Ekom says that there are Minotaurs on the path ahead. They extorted a traveler’s fee from me. They took half my water, and took my information. It was either that or be taken to their fighting pits in the Deep. I am no fighter. The Minotaurs left me and went after the nine men I told them about.

The Kenku noticed that there were so many of us and yet we didn't carry a lot of water or food or provisions, and was surprised by this. When we went on our way, Khal nodded to Jeu, who seemed to then disappear menacingly into the dark forest.

Yah, Khal's no idiot. You don't let the information-trading-bird-man go on. Practical.

The party pressed on. The next day, Khal took the party to a hidden place that was much closer to the surface. We encountered a large bowl-like cavern. In the middle of it, a 30' colossus made of sandstone: a thin human hermaphrodite whose face looked blankly to the cavernous ceiling, and whose arms bore a massive stone water basin. Desert sand cascaded from a hole in the ceiling and fell upon the figure's face, and its face - over time - had been scoured away, so it looked eerily faceless. All around the colossus were walking trails and small sitting areas for contemplation and prayer. Far above the cavern was a slit - some ledge that peered out to the outside world. Sand was all around the figure.

Khal had never taken me here before. He looked to the young priestess and suggested that she may wish to spend some time here to know more of this space; to explore it spiritually. "Fear," he said, "is a disease. Hope... is its only cure." He looked sternly at the young priestess as if she alone possessed something, some innate knowledge or understanding about this place that he did not.

And he looked at the colossus for a long while then asked the Dwarves a question. "In your culture, do you have a saying. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?'" And the Dwarves agreed. Khal explained. If the Kenku was right, there are at least nine slaves of an Efretti Lord out there who the Minotaurs most certainly would have hunted down and taken hostage as to submit them to their fighting pits. Should just one of those slaves be recovered and returned to the Efretti, then those who did the saving might earn a boon of a reward, something that could help Khal save his brother. So he asked, would the Dwarves help him ... to fight the Minotaurs and to retrieve the slaves? And he asked Elan, the red-haired ranger, if she would help track them?

We couldn't waste any time. We couldn't return here after saving the slaves because we were likely already being pursued by Dragonmen scouting parties, looking for their lost white-haired girl. Now would be the only time to do both things - to explore this cavern, and, to rescue the Efretti Lord's slaves.

Nearly all agreed, and they left, leaving myself, the twins, the bound white cleric, and the young priestess in the ancient cave, promising to return in three days.

There, the young priestess began to walk the narrow pathways that circled around the colossus. This was a prayer-walk, and I followed behind as instructed, concentrating, praying to the Goddess she called Isthmeira. She used winds conjured from her will to blow away sand and dust to find characteristics of water erosion, and that these places use to be small pools and wading spaces. When we walked, we prayed. We walked in a meditative state for hours. We walked up and down the sides of the bowl-like cavern, tracing and re-tracing our steps over and over again, until we finally - after maybe six hours -arrived at the ledge some 40' above, to look out upon the horizon. We squinted - our eyes not adjusted to normal daylight - and we saw miles of dunes, but, far away, she could see the ocean.

The sea! She seemed to stand up straight, could smell the salt in the wind. She could feel the tempest raging, out there, deep within her as much as it was so far away. She felt the tragedy, the irony, of this holy place, this figure meant to capture water from the sky, so bone dry, dusted, buried. She felt an intense... anger.

"Phedarge," she whispered, and looked at the colossus again in an attempt to recall this aspect of the 16-Pointed Star, an aspect of the Tempest Goddess, one that is particularly vengeful and full of fury and rage. She clinched her fists, feeling that sense of rage building within her ...

... and I felt angry, too. Angry ... at being trapped here for ten years, for losing Jenni, for not believing that the Clerics of Tahkesis could be stopped! For all of the running - ten years of running - angry for never being able to fight back! For running away when the Risen or the Dragonmen came...

... And Siegride's eyes narrowed as she began to feel the effect of this place, realizing ... that centuries of loss, neglect, anger, rage... built around this Goddess was swelling within her soul ...

R

Trials in the Underdark (13th of Hunts - 3rd of Allhallowtide, Rose: 47)

Okay, a lot has happened since the last time we caught up with our intrepid adventurers!

Here's a recap.

• The party endured an attack by Displacer Beasts! It was a pretty good battle as the Displacer Beasts got in some good rolls. The party learned that Jud'e'fae couldn't be trusted (as it seemed that Jud'e'fae allowed a Displacer Beast to attack Gorbash intentionally!); that Jake Ross isn't so good with a spear; that the twins Abja'fae and Qazan'fae are just learning how to use their bows; that Khal'd'fae is a Ranger with great ability but few hit dice. And they learned that the dark elves will eat anything with meat on its bones, even displacer beasts, as they were skinned and their meat harvested and added to the tortoise meat they were hauling around.

• Jud'e'fae slandered the party, explaining to Khal that the only reason why they were attacked is because of the party's "smell" and "need for light"; that the party was a liability. Khal told Jud'e'fae to shut up. Over time, the party learned that Jud'e'fae was a Sorcerer as he was capable of casting spells, and was fairly competent with a spear, although his mean, cantankerous disposition in concert with Jud'e'fae's own actions which seemed to put the party at risk, kept from him being fully trusted. 

• The party would come to learn that there are no clerics in the Underdark. There are no miracles. No magical means of healing; no fantastical ways to generate food nor water; no miraculous storms of lightning called from the sky to smite their adversaries; no mystical ways to dispel the horrors of the undead, or, heal the sick. The only form of clerical magic anyone is used to seeing is manifested by the worshipers of Tahkesis, which explains why they mistakenly called Siegride a cleric of Tahkesis when they first met and why Jud'e'fae has such a hard time accepting anything else. In general, this clan of dark elves abandoned ancient traditions of "spider-worship" generations ago when they found no help would come from their Goddess when under attack by the Dragonkind. 

• The party saw small bats flying around in the trees and little rodents on the ground; from time to time, they'd hear larger cries and wails and growls of much larger critters somewhere in the darkness. The cave to the Underdark would vanish into the darkness and all they could see were dense trees in every direction. At times, it even seemed moist, foggy, but the source of water was unclear. There was certainly a lot of life in this underground forest. There were plenty of dangers. Siegride and Ma'yah nearly died during a steep 125' climb of an ancient dried-up waterfall, and there were spots in the Underdark that seemed to attract more animal and monster activity because it was near water sources.
  
• In their adventures, the party learned that the Underdark was a forested place that lay close to the surface, whereas the Underdeep was a place much deeper, much lower, that lay beneath, and that there are enormous monsters in the Underdeep (as they learned first-hand as they were attacked by a pair of Behir).
  
• The party learned of the Minutur (the minotaur) - a race of bull-headed men that lived near the top of the Underdark like the elves. They were strong, crafty, and smart; they knew all the ways around the Underdark. They lived separately from the elves and in peace until the Dragonborn came, and in lost skirmishes with them, they fled to the Underdeep, laying traps in dark labyrinths of rocks and trees. The party encountered an old, over-grown mausoleum crafted by the minutur's and long abandoned; they party also thought it fit to explore the graves of two sentries but found nothing of interest, and couldn't lift the entrance to the mausoleum because it was too heavy. These days, Jake explained, the Minitur stay in their layers in the Underdeep, waiting for those foolish enough to attack them. 

• Tolman received good news in his Diary of Correspondence. Twyst wrote to give him some good news after Tolman informed him of the party's recent excursion to the Sagean Coast: 

“Good sir, you are an intrepid adventurer and I salute you. Merry travels in the world abroad and do try to stay safe. I, my good friend, am in McFerrel’s Parish, revealing your most important findings to my dear friend Mr. Gregory Wanderfoot, a specialist in these matters pertaining to our mutual friend. He’s quite astounded at the volume of detail. He’s considering approaching the Parish Council to prepare both a memorial and announcement of the lost journal (and that they will be subsequently released for years coming in small drips and drabs to compensate for the publishing of such matters, and, to perpetuate the novelty of the story, to which he cares to offer you and your estate a smidge of perpetual royalties from said proceeds). Oh Mr. Greenholm, you’ve struck it, sir! You’ve padded your feet this time!”

• The dark elf twins were young and playful. At one point, they challenged the dwarves to climb trees and swing from vines; they also tried to learn the dwarves' names and speak them aloud. They were enthralled by Tolman's talk of cities and places back in Floreth. But they're also naive ... climbing steep places without ropes or reinforcements, or, wandering into the dark woods all on their own. Once, a dryad emerged from the wood near a bubbling spring, and the twins chased after the beautiful, nude fae, enchanted, likely to become her slave forever as payment for taking her scarce water. They were under the dryad's spell! Craftily, Gorbash offered freshly-minted pies from his Wonderous Piebox in exchange for the brothers-fae and the dryad accepted the terms and mightly munched the pies, while the rest of the party subdued the twins and took them away from the area. Silly Elves. Dryads will make Keeblers out of you.

• The party met other elves who were stationed on the periphery of the blue hills in a makhba - a hideout; they kept watch over the dessert. They reported that squads of Dragonkind (the tanin mawlud) were on the march, searching for something or someone in the dessert south of Juaina (the "Little Garden" citadel that the party arrived through). Their scouting parties had picked up and it wouldn't be long before they encroached the hills. Their search patterns were unusual. Khal became suspicious of the party briefly.

• Over time it became clear that Khal'd'fae was a Ranger and knew these creepy woods better than anyone. On several occasions, he climbed a tree to retrieve pre-stored food and water, and, to replenish those stores; he also helped the party navigate obvious traps set by the elves for would-be intruders to their domain. He also was training the young twins on how to use their bows. Over the course of their time together, the party came to understand a few things about Khal. One, he saw the world as a larger place than what his race was exposed to and having the party hang around was more than curiosity - he wants to learn from them and expand his own perspective, which is a similar reason as to why he maintained Jake in his circle of adventurers; two, Khal realizes the power of the party and their clerical abilities which would make potentially enormous allies; three, Khal wants to help - he can bring the party to elders in his clan that can explain more of the Theocracy; four, Khal seems to have an older brother named Locien'fae - a Prince of Fae - who is held captive by the Dragonborn, both as a prisoner and as a tortured soul. Khal believes that the party presence here just isn't chance but providence ... he even suggests at one point that he wants to show Siegride a sacred place somewhere along the road home.
  
• Meanwhile, a deal was struck: Jake would teach Siegride the dark elf language in exchange for teaching Jake how to become a cleric. Jake was very interested; Khal, who now saw Jake as something larger than just a slave (thanks to the party's influence), encouraged the exchange.

Finally, the party had spent days in the woods and were closing in on the next mukbha to drop off provisions and water to Khal's men there, but what they found was horrific. Four dead eviscerated rotting elvish corpses arranged in a ceremonial cross on the earthen floor of their camp, while a mass of insects suddenly emerged from their bodies and from the adjacent Underdark forest to swarm around the party...

And that's where we left off!

R

Finding Friends in the Desert Sands (12th-13th of Hunts, Rose: 47)

The monstrous tortoise reared in the desert sands, striking out any one that would come near it.

The party pushed through the sandstorm to try and get themselves in range to attack the giant tortoise as the mysterious, dark-clad nomads were racing along its side, trying to lose arrows into its vulnerable underside.

Movement was slow-going for the party who were suffering movement penalties in Difficult Terrain, and the sandstorm was inflicting a Blinded condition on their characters; luckily it was still early morning and they weren't suffering from heat exhaustion as well.

The party realized that the three archers running along side of the animal were hunting it and trying to take it down for food. That allowed the party to adjust their tactics (as not to fireball the beast into some turtle flambe). They attacked the creature with arrows, axes, and magical force damage, all the while the hunters seemed appreciative of the party's efforts. Quick-thinking, Llew was able to cast Fairie Fire on the animal which negated the sandstorm's effects on their combat. Then, within the height of combat, the turtle started trying to dig itself into the desert sands, gaining partial cover and an AC bonus; then, it fully submerged into the sand. It was easy to follow as a giant mound of displaced sand was moving its way across the desert! The party pursued the beast in the sweltering heat!

Meanwhile, Siegride attempted to help their fallen comrade by getting close enough to cast a healing spell on the figure that had taken damage earlier from the tortoise. Healed, the figure returned to consciousness and sat up in shock; his friend that was helping him fell backward into the sand pointing, yelling, "Tiamat! Tiamat!"

Siegride was running up to them. She cast Tongues so that they might understand her. "No, no, not Tiamat!", she yelled, and immediately, the slender shadow of a man she healed stepped backwards and raised his hands in cautious defense and angrily hissed, "Stay away from me!" in a language that sounded very elegant and flowing, while the healer-type screamed back threw his hands to his head and yelled, "Wha - Oh My God, you can speak English!"

Siegride had no idea what 'English' was. She heard this strange language (which was different from his unappreciative patient in its choppy use of vowels and consonances) and replied, "No, no ... I'm Siegride of Isthmeira. We're from Floreth! It's a long way away-"

"I can't believe it!", the man yelled back. "That's impossible! I thought I was the only one out here!"

All the while, the battle against the tortoise raged on. The party had managed to coax the turtle out of the sand and it tried to attack Gorbash and Tamroohk, and Tolman cast Ray of Frost on the creature that effectively negated its movement to zero. It wasn't long after that the creature succumbed to many blows and was dead in the sand.

The leader of the group approached the party and held his hand high - the others who followed him snapped to attention and listened as he spoke. His eyes were almond-shape, wide, and brilliant emerald in color. His words were being translated by the party's spells to comprehend languages. He said that he appreciated the party's intervention in their hunt; that he would share his water and share his food with the party if they had no other shelter in the desert, but for now, his men must butcher the beast before any other scavengers were to come this way, and, before the sun rises too high in the sky.

Agreeing that staying in the desert probably wasn't the best plan, the party kept watch while the nomadic tribesmen butchered the giant tortoise and created travois out of spears and netting to carry loads of tortoise meat out of the desert. Within an hour or so, the heat was already rising near 90-degrees, and the party and nomads left the tortoise carcass behind to head for the blue hills in the distance.

The party generously helped carrying as much meat as they could. They traveled for five miles, stopping every so often for quick short breaks to take sips of their water from their wine skins. The dwarves were blistering up from all the sun, and the generous strangers offered strips of cloth smeared with a cooling aloe. After a while, the party's spells wore off and they were unable to speak directly with the strangers. They gestured and smiled and indicated things with their hands in order to communicate. Soon though, the heat became oppressive and scaled greater than 100-degrees - the party and the strangers started making exhaustion rolls, slowing to half-speed, as they closed in on some sheer cliffs of the hills.

When the party approached the cliffs, the leader placed his hands against the rock and looked along its surface. The other members of his tribe - save one, the medic - did the same. Suddenly, the light began to dim as shade and shadow fell over the party; a darkness - seemingly called forth by the nomadic strangers - fell upon the party, and kept them from the direct sun. A short rest was had, spells were cast, there was water and some degree of conversation.

In speaking with the leader, Siegride learned that the Dragonborn - called tanin mawlud by these tribesmen - maintained patrols in the desert and that, if one looked closely against the horizon, the glint of their armor and scales could be seen. Sure enough, Siegride caught the glimmer of light in the far distance. He said to him that they should stay low in the desert lest they be seen in the hills; Siegride was sure that their uncanny shadows were protecting them from visibility now, and she headed his warning.

When the party pressed on, they traveled up a steep incline for twenty minutes before arriving against a sheer of rock that revealed an entrance to a cave. Within the cave it was cool and out of the direct sun which was very refreshing, and they started making their way into the cave. The strangers then removed their bandages and scarves from their faces and skin, revealing a smooth jet-black skin, tall pointed ears, and whispy white hair. The PC's didn't know what they were but they were elves. Drow, in fact.

The cave began to descend, down into the darkness, and the party encountered something that they recall seeing in the mines: living trees. Trees whose trunks jutted out of the solid rock; with leaves of black; with a bark that - if sucked on - had a refreshing sweet and saltiness about it; an entire forest, underground, thriving. The party made their way deep into the underground forest until they came to a resting place. At the resting place, the nomads began to break out the foodstuffs and start curing their meat, breaking it into smaller pieces for travel. And the party helped! It took five hours or so before they all came together for a meal to relax.

The elves called this place the Underdark. According to their myths, it spread around the world. The party recalled seeing something like this except with sickly and diseased trees in the Mines of York and Barrelborn. These trees and this forest under the earth was thriving and healthy. It was their home, but it was also an untamed wild, and that at no time should the party leave without the drow unless it is to return to the surface, to go "back up".

The party spoke primarily with the medic who introduced himself as Jake Ross. Jake was human, but he was called eabd, or, "slave" in the language of the elves. Jake explained that all humans were eabd, that, all the elves understood was that all humans were slaves, and that the name didn't necessarily reflect his relationship to the elves; he wasn't their captive. Jake's language was funny and odd. Jake said that he was from a place called "Seattle" and spun a fantastical story involving searching for a place called "Shangrala" at an event where a man was burned in a far away desert, the playa ; Siegride thought that his story sounded similar to other stories of Tanelorn that they'd heard about over the last year. Jake said that he was "a paramedic" where he came from, and that he'd been here for well over ten years after being found near death by Khal'd'fae.

Khal'd'fae was the 5'9", emerald-green eyed leader. Jake explained that Khal'd'fae was fair and honest, and taught him their language, and let Jake hunt with them in the desert.

Jeu'd'fae was Khal's right-hand-man; Jake called Jeu'd'fae "a Wormtail to Khal's Voldemort", whatever that meant. Jeu had bright silver eyes like liquid mercury. He was sneaky-looking, suspicious of the party and their intentions, and seemed fearful of Siegride who expressed clerical abilities (inasmuch that the party could tell, the dark elves had never encountered any other form of cleric before aside from the Clerics of Tahkesis).

Abja'fae was a bright, pink-eyed archer who took a fun interest in Gorbash and all of his weapons and bravery and valor in combat; Qazan'Fae, his twin brother, seemed to take a liking for Tamrhook and the healing arts.

Jake took the time to draw a map in the sand with sticks and rocks to explain to the party where they were. He said they were in Aljahim Alssahra, a land that translated into "a blazing hot desert on the edge of Hell". He showed the party where the four Citadels of the tanin mawlud were and from where they arrived; he explained that the land was desolated, ruled by tyrants, monsters, and fiends of all sorts; "You've never heard of the Slavers? The Efreteti and his three sons? The Winged Men? The Risen? Oh man, you guys are a bunch of noobs, just like me!"

Khal'd'fae eventually spoke with Ma'yah, explaining how he had lookouts and camps with men along various areas that he needed to deliver this food and water to. He explained the history of his people and the tanin mawlud (the Dragonborn), the Emirates, how the Theocracy of Tiamat brought them all together instead of fighting amongst each other, and the fight for resources that had come to harm his people. Khal even invited the party to come along and he would eventually take them to Zalam Medina - his home - to others who could explain the Theocracy much better than he could.

Spiteful and angry, Jeu'd'fae complained that Khal was being far to lienient and accepting of the strangers and that they should never take them back to their home, and they should never trust "women of Tiamat".

Khal'd'fae looked side-eyed to his companion then, in an enormous fit of strength, turned, picked Jeu'd'fae up, and slammed him against the side of a cave wall! He then pried open Jeu's eyes and turned his jaw to face Siegride. Jeu'd'fae struggled but Khal held him firmly in place. "What is it? Is there sand in your eyes, Jeu? What is it that I am not seeing? Do you see it? Do you see the aspect? Is her hair ... green, or red, or blue, or white, or black? Is her tongue forked? Is her skin as scales? Do you see something that I do not?!"

Jeu struggled to answer saying, "No! No ... I ... I don't ..."

Khal held Jeu in position against the rock and pointed at Siegride. "NOT ... Tiamat. Other...!" And then he released his friend. "It's other! Accept it! They hunted your food, they shared their water, they helped you. Accept that the world is bigger than sand and desert! That there is more ... other ... than Tiamat!"

Jeu rubbed his face and his neck and scowled at the party, humiliated, and in private, Khal'd'fae revealed that there would be many like him - Drow that don't see possibilities, who're younger and more fearful, and that the party should be careful, especially in performing "miracles" (casting clerical-like spells) in front of those like Jeu. But Khal also asked Ma'yah, "But try to understand him. His fear."

That evening as the party camped in the Underdark they learned that these elves didn't sleep, but meditated and rested their minds and thoughts. When "morning" came (a maddening 2am awakening), the party pushed on into the darkness with the drow. They agreed to travel with the drow to distribute the food to Khal's men in the foothills. Traveling in the Underdark, it was just like traveling in a regular forest above ground, and Elan felt oddly at home. That is, until they were attacked by a pack of displacer beasts!

And that's where we left off! More to come ... the party travels in the Underdark to distribute needed food and water to Khal'd'fae's men, but who knows what horrors lurk in these woods?

R

Beyond the Door (10th - 12th of Hunts, Rose: 47)

Many cycles, many moons, and many things have happened to our adventurers since Ma'yah was summoned from the Book of Names and returned to the party.

While at Pax Arcana, Ma'yah returned to her studies to obtain 7th Level. During the downtime, the party explored pieces of the university and trading town that surrounds it.

• The party learned that skilled magic doesn't come cheap and had to pay thousands of Crowns to Master Dharlyne for assisting the party in retrieving Ma'yah. Ma'yah, on the other hand, was now able to read the spells within the Book of Names, and went about preparing her spellbooks. 

• Gorbash and Tamroohk reclaimed the pleasures of home at The Bearded Lady, a tavern ran and patronized by dwarven kin traveling from the Kingdoms. They met Red Thunderfist, a dwarf with a profound sense of humor.

• The party spent time in Pax Arcana's Common Halls and Libraries to conduct various investigations and studies. There they met Celeste of House Gregoria, 17th-Year Pedagogue of Pax Arcana and Master of Necromancy, and had many discussions with her.

• Siegride returned to her familial home near the Port of Floreth and rejoined her family briefly, only to learn the tragic truth: the dream that she had experienced on the voyage to Shyn-Balyn where her sister drowned in a dark, unforgiving sea, at the will of her adversary, Agoolik, did indeed happen; just as the gibbering monster in the Mines of York & Barrelborn had threatened.

• The true background of Vongur was revealed. His real name was really Devyn Cammy Dinsmore, friends called him Jitters; born in the Erenlands in a village named Warm Springs, north Gaelwyn; trapped in the amulet for hundreds of years - he lost count - he stole it from a very sickly dwarf (who was nearly dead!) and who was in a pitched fever and told all kinds of dwarfly stories. Soon, he himself became sick then realized that his own consciousness was trapped within the amulet. He pretended to be a dwarf because that's what he found so many people expected, and over the centuries, he picked up a lot of dwarf-like experience. Devyn gets so hungry, he explained, but found the youthful vitality of Gorbash both sustaining and enjoyable. Devyn pleaded for it's "life" but Gorbash surrendered the amulet to Celeste - Master of Necromancy - who suggested that that the amulet would be an interesting case study for her students.

• Gorbash won a pie eating contest and a magic pie box that creates warm, delicious fruit pies. It was called Llynard's Wonderous Piebox, and he had beaten several challengers to acquire it.

• Most of the party stocked up on interesting items of magika. They visited shops and stores like Craft & Candle, Belvo's Bewitched Armor, Weapons, and Ammunition, the Crooked Cobbler, Rib Bones & Crossbows, Plainswalk Scrolls & Skullery, Babbling Books and Midnight Readings, and Skeeter's Draughts and Potions.

• They visited the Commercium and Croupier to conduct their financial businesses.

• Tamroohk and Siegride helped the clerics of Plainswalk Abbey rebuild their stone masonry after it was struck by lightning only days before the party's arrival. Sister Connye Mae of Gaia was forever thankful.  

• Llewellyn encountered Marcy Patterton the Bard, a Freeman of Floreth. "Orations, Poems, Fine Artistry, and Eclectic Dancing." Llew was even able to stop Marcy from inadvertently summoning a demon in a live performance of a mage whose power overtakes him (a final performance that required a bit more flair, Marcy told Llew, who felt something was really suspicious).

• Tamroohk traveled to The Steppes to learn more of her dwarven goddess, Beronnar Truesilver, and to be connected to members of her order. 

• And the party never even learned of the Doppleganger mirror ... but ahh, that's a story for another day.

On the 10th of Hunts, the party brought The Door (a magical door recovered from the deck of a black ship of the Pirate Horde) to Master Dharlyne of House Thorne in the Common Hall of Acquisitions, Investigations, and Categorizations in Pax Arcana. Master Dharlyne had pledged - should the party wish to open the door - she would offer her services pro-bono as a student demonstration of enchanted dimensional gates. The party agreed and brought the Door to the wizard. There were a crowd of students on the observation deck of the round turret room with an earthen-dirt floor where the magi had drawn her various runes of protection.

Master Dharlyne raised her hands and voice and shouted, "Magia non est confisa!"

And the students from above shouted back, "Magia non est confisa!"

"Magic ... is not to be trusted!", he exclaimed, "And particularly magika that opens extra-dimensional portals. Class, the Weave has been intentionally disrupted and grafted onto the back of this common wood door frame. Should the door open, I expect the fabric of space and time will be distorted, and the door can be used as a common portal - a threshold - to cross to its other side. These hearty adventurers believe it to be the sweltering deserts and barbaric Sagean Coast, more than three thousand miles from here. Truly amazing, is it not? But we should be cautious: a simple door containing so much energy is so abhorrent to the natural order of things that the Weave will undoubtedly attempt to repair itself should the door itself be destroyed. Therefore, I will assist these adventurers as they cross its threshold to the lands beyond!"

There was a cheer. Some of the students cheered with a mouth full of fruit pies, as Gorbash had decided to pass some free magically-created pies from his pie box around. The students were both grateful and bemused.

An apprentice approached Master Dharlyne with worn leather gloves sewn with intricate gold stitching and decorative patterns. She started putting on the gloves. "I shall maintain my concentration on the portal using dimensional gate theories in an attempt to maintain its connection to the other side should the Door there become unstable or destroyed." A second apprentice came forward with an intricate gold and leather scabbard with a beautiful short sword, and she hung that at her hip. The Master magi slapped her hands together to get the attention of everyone and the students.

"Now," she yelled, "These brave adventurers... shall enter this Door! The key!"

Taking the key in hand, Ma'yah inserted the key into the lock and a set of three or four tumblers cranked until the latching mechanism clicked, and she pulled the door open.

There was a collective gasp.

On the other side, heat wafted in; it was dark, night time, but still perhaps eighty-five degrees, warmer air than most anyone had ever felt in their lives (as Floreth is located in arctic climbs). There were light transparent drapes that drifted about the other side of the door and fluttered as the air on both sides of the Door commingled. Light from the party's side of the door spilled into the darkness.

Gorbash was first to cross the threshold. He stood on a sandstone dias where the Door was fixed to the ground, and to his right and left were 25' sandstone walls. It was a still night, a warm heat permeated him, and he could see the stars and Mother and Daughter (the moons of Shae Tahrane) but at odd positions in the night sky. He heard the pleasant chirping of insects and small toads. With his vision, he could make out shallow rectangular pools of water before him filled with flourishing fauna of types he was completely unfamiliar with, while the pools will still as they could be, appearing almost like glass, reflecting the night sky.

The rest of the party crossed into the garden. They produced light sources so that they could see. They investigated these gardens and found that the opposite side of the garden had two very large wooden doors - cut in a Persian motif - with brass handles. Those doors were closed, and sitting calmly before those doors on the ground, was a copper-scaled man, a Dragonborn. The party - never have ever met nor heard of a Dragonborn before - was somewhat taken aback by his appearance. The Dragonborn had no armor, no weapons, and was dressed in cool loose fabric. It patiently meditated until the party approached.

After some polite conversation, the party learned that it called itself The Watcher. His purpose was to watch, to wait, and to prevent trespassers from entering the doors behind him. Some of the dialog he said to the party:

• “It is called Hadiqat Saghira (the little garden). I consider it to be one of the more beautiful gardens in all of the Emirates. What do you think of it?”
  
• “We are far, far away from the light and greatness of Bahmaut. You are in Aljahim Alssahra (a blazing hot desert leading to hell)”
  
• “You do me honor by speaking in my tongue.” … “You do me honor by asking questions first, attacking last. Let us talk.” …”You show me honor. I will respectfully offer the same.”
  
• “Among my people, I, too, am a slave, given just one simple purpose.”
  
• “Talking is better than fighting. If I can encourage you to go, that is good enough.”
  
• “Leave from whence you came. When you safely depart and have arrived at where you started,  I will destroy the door, and no ill will come of it. Should you not leave, you place yourselves in grave peril, for I must fulfill my purpose. Should you trespass on this citadel, a wretched doom awaits you.”
  
• “My purpose is to dissuade those who might trespass on these grounds. My brothers and sisters who guard this place leave me to my methods. My methods are my own. Is it not wiser and kinder to convince you to leave rather fight you?”
  
• “I am the Watcher. My purpose is to prevent trespass into this citadel. I will do what I must to dissuade your egress.”
  
• “The door that is behind me has no lock. It has no key. It opens freely into the citadel. But you should be warned. A thousand of my brothers and sisters lay behind that door and they are a cruel and merciless lot. Should I fail at my purpose, my brothers and sisters will slaughter you all.” (Nods to sentries on the wall)
  
• “You are a smart, considerate folk. I know not from where you come but I respect the consideration you have shown me. Please, depart now.”

The party did a few things to confirm that they were, in fact, in a small garden of a much larger citadel, and there may, in fact, be a thousand or more of his Dragonkind-kin held up here, and there were, in fact, a gathering of sentries along the wall. The party attempted to learn more of Aljahim Alssahra, this construct around Tahkisis called The Theocracy, the mythology of Tiamat's ultimate desire to turn the Prime Material Plane into an Aljahim Alssahra (as a place like this), the master/slave relationship between what the Watcher called The Chromatics and The Metallics, and to persuade the Watcher to throw up his chains in rebellion against his oppressors. The Watcher would have nothing of it. He was a proud creature who understood his purpose clearly, who saw his existence and the lives of "his clutch" as part of a much larger order of things, and he had come to accept that. He accepted his role in life. Should he fail at his role, his purpose would be undone, and he would be undone. It was clear that The Watcher had no intention on abandoning his purpose, or, letting the party through the double doors behind him.

Then.... the party (impressed with the dialog with The Watcher), returned from whence they came. They exited the garden and returned through the magic Door to Pax Arcana. As they were prepared to leave, The Watcher - nearly drifting in his walk and gait - approached the magic Door, and once the party was safely on the other side and the Door was shut, he destroyed it with his fists.

[DM's Note: Wow. I didn't exactly plan on that. I thought the party would, in some way, try to engage the Dragonborn Monk in combat but, meh, look at that. They turned back. They totally didn't stick around. Hmm What to do now? Insert ... total improvisation.]

The party asked Master Dharlyne to destroy the Door and she said she'd take care of it. Meanwhile, the party went to the Common Hall of Chartered Explorations and Recoveries to learn of potential expeditions they could take on to recover lost or ancient magic needed or requested by various patrons and benefactors of Pax Arcana. In the Hall of Chartered Explorations and Recoveries, they learned of:

• A mad wizard far to the south, in the Tarkesh Wilds, that had been transforming himself into a chimera and terrorizing the locals and common trade routes between Floreth and Gheoli; the mad wizard had created a fortress from a tree and grew using magic to some unbelievable size; an influential matron of a House would like to have that wizard problem disappear and along with it his tree fortress brought down to the earth.

• A consortium of dwarven merchants would like an old dwarf crypt investigated and items belonging to their families retrieved from it.

• A general expedition to Dhark Keep, to the south along Evelyn Pass, was needed to dispel rumors of bad magic held up there.

• Three old human males who were also in the Common Hall discussed a map that had come into their possession (apparently in a manner that somehow involved the assassin's guild Shadow, Mind, and Dagger) to a shrine in the far norther reaches, in the Frozen Wastes. The map showed the way to a shrine that had believed to have been long-lost, as well as fragments of a map of the shrine, where a Chalice was believed to be. The three old men were so confident that a Chalice was there that they offered the party an unbelievable sum (500,000 Crowns) to mount the expedition and return with it, and, on several conditions.

Even though the bounty was more than impressive, the party didn't trust the wicked old men who apparently had their own agenda in these matters, and eventually the party decided that they would take on the mad chimera wizard. They retrieved a Diary of Correspondence from the Library of Correspondence, checked out that book, and started a dialog to begin their expedition to the south ... to the Tarkesh Wilds.

Meanwhile, on their way to leaving Pax Arcana for the night, they were rushed by an apprentice student who insisted that they come straight away to the Hall of Acquisitions and Investigations. Master Dharlyne had important news. And when the party arrived there, they found the Dharlyne still had the Door within her magic circles, and she demonstrated that she had magically preserved the conduit to the other side; a shimmering veil of energy showed the gardens behind the Door, and it could be seen that The Watcher was no longer present.

[DM's Note: Improvise. The party had a big discussion of what to do next. Go through the Door, face hordes of Dragonborn, and confront the Theocracy; stay and handle the mad wizard chimera. There were votes. There were claims of madness. There were ... well, graciously, several players who thought that I'd already built all this stuff out and said they should at least see it ...]

Taking advantage of that opportunity, the party went back through the Door and into the Hadiqat Saghira. There were no more chirping insects. It was deathly silent and still. Tolman snuck about to the big double doors that had been guarded by the The Watcher and he creaked it open. It wasn't locked as The Watcher had claimed, but Tolman opened the door just in time to find another Dragonkind (a female with an ancestry of a silver dragon); Tolman cast Sleep on the woman but she resisted; instead of screaming or yelling for guards, she shooed Tolman back inside the garden. He cast Comprehend Languages.

"You can't be here, my brothers and sisters, they will destroy you," she looked about the garden. "The Door? The Watcher? Where is the Door? Hurry, before you are discovered, you must leave this place now." Apparently, this Dragonborn woman - whose name was Akra - did not share the same proud values of being a slave and not uprising against her Chromatic oppressors. She helped the party through a massive hall and to a grate that lead to the water disposal and sewage network that ran underneath the Citadel. Akra encouraged the party to run, hard, as fast as they could, for the hills to the south; to travel during the night; to find water and shelter in the desert during the day; and to find the Drow - to speak with K'hal'd'fae - to help you find food, shelter, water, and to survive.

[DM's Note: Akra was a PC that was drafted up by Melissa to play should Ma'yah be unrecoverable from the Book of Names. Melissa knew all this time that the party was supposed to meet Akra and that Akra would help them escape from the Citadel. Akra, of course, would have gone with the party, fleeing from her captors, but as an NPC I had Akra stay behind with a similar stubborn pride and sense of obligation towards her family to see her lot in life through. Meanwhile, the party had never heard of the concept of a Drow - the party has never seen nor met Elves let alone Dark Elves; the characters had no idea what the word meant.]

Towards the end of the game session, the party had wandered into the night; not her favored terrain, Elan was navigating the best she could to the southern hills. At night the sand was hot and the desert climate uncomfortable for those who had spent their whole lives in the arctic; during the day, the temperatures ran into the hundreds of degrees ... the party quickly realized that traveling in the afternoon was foolish; it was best to travel at sunset, night, and the early morning. They got briefly lost in a sandstorm as the winds seem to pick up during the daytime hours. They spent a day comfortably sheltered in a magic shelter created by Llewellyn the Bard, and Siegride created clean water to fill all of their water skins.

It was in the early morning hours of the 12th of Hunts when the sun was breaking over the desert sands, and the winds started to pick up again. The party found themselves in another sandstorm. Then, some 100' feet in front of them, a massive movement and displacement of sand was happening, and they saw an enormous exterior shell of a giant tortoise rise out of the sand, and it scrambling over the edge of a dune to escape its predators.

It seemed to grown in pain as the party realized that a large black spear was thrust into its hind quarters, and a thin figure dressed in a black turban and scarf mounted the high-ground of the dune and was firing arrows into its under belly. Meanwhile, two other black-turbaned figures ran through the desert sandstorm, trying to keep pace with the giant tortoise as it attempted to flee, loosing arrows at its tender meaty underside. All the while, another black-clad figure attempted to get close to the tortoise with a spear but was clawed mercilessly by the anguished animal, and his body crumpled to the ground. A final figure, dressed in more brightly decorated clothing ran up to his fallen comrade and began administering first aid.

The party rolled for initiative and Elan the Ranger drew back her crossbow and started firing upon the giant tortoise. Her bolt connected and it reared, giving out a painful howl.

Just then, the figure on the highground lowered his bow and looked into the swirling dessert sandstorm. He raised his arm and bore two fingers into the wind facing Elan, and ululated loudly in a fierce cry of warrior-like acknowledgement and friendship. Immediately the other two black-clad figures stopped in the sand and raised their own arms and turned two fingers to Elan in an ululated salute, and the brightly-colored figure on the top of the dune helping the fallen hunter held both hands up to Elan and ululated, apparently very elated that friends have been found in the harsh desert.

Meanwhile, the enormous giant tortoise started clamoring across the sand towards the party in a fit of pain and battle-rage ...

And that's where we'll pick up next time!
R