Dark wings, Dark words

The obsidian raven cawed only once as it appeared through the window, killing the conversation instantly. The animated stone bird landed heavily on the strong shoulder of an armored man standing by the hearth. Galarnok did not seemed surprised. He took a roll of parchment from the bird's grasp and unrolled it. The men around him waited while the Blood Raven.

A dwarf in a heavy spiked dwarven fullplate snorted and said aloud to no one in particular "Dark wings, dark words. Right?".

Galarnok was silent a moment longer then passed the parchment to an elf clad in leather standing next to him. Then he turned his eyes outside, at the gloom of the swordcoast. He gave Nouraha Hawkeye enough time to read, when understanding showed in the rogue's face, he turned and addressed his companions.

" What we have been waiting for as come at last, although the damages are far worse than I had thought. The whole of Baldur's Gate has been annihilated. It's population is now at the enemy's service. Only the inner city holds. "

He let the news sink in a second. These were men of steel, hardship and horror; no one seemed impressed. Planewalking will do that to a man. A huge hulking monstrosity with four arms and stinking of rotting flesh, Lukkieddi Vonritch spat a glob of flegm.

" So what? No Blood Raven I know is scared of zombies or banshees. "

" No doubt ", replied Galarnok, " And this changes nothing to the contract. Our quarry has manifested itself now and we will proceed as planned, even if its might is beyond what we were told. Now, I need to talk to her... "

To that, Nouraha seemed uncertain. " Are you sure? I do not think Stuh Ryback would appreciate... ". Galarnok hushed him with a cold stare.

" Stuh Ryback is no longer a Blood Raven. He has not been for a long time. His daughter on the other hand... ", he let his sentence unfinished as he searched in the folds of his magical haversack to produce a small bead of amber.

Galarnok brought it to his lips to whisper soft words onto the amber, which immediately started glowing softly. He then threw it in the middle of the room, where it exploded in a puff of red flames and smoke. When the smoke cleared, standing amongst them was a rare sight. Tall and slender, lightly armored and armed with an heavy wicked looking spear; before them stood a woman of supernatural beauty, long angelic hairs and white feathery wings, with satyr like legs, though hairless, ended with hooves. Half demon and half angel, with no normal human blood, she stood magnificient. Then she turned her gaze to Galarnok.

" You have called uncle? ", she asked, her voice sounding like a sweet melody, but leaving a feeling of dark promises.

" You have an assignment. I want some adventurers found. Fast. "

Baldur's Gate - 1479 DR - 5th of Elcasias

In Baldur's Gate's many many streets, countless souls went about their business. The gloom made people angry, hot tempered, and the Flaming Fist had busy days and nights. Not that you could tell day from night anymore. Without sunlight, the moods were just as dark as the sky.

The inner city, the only walled part of Baldur's Gate, was much like it was a hundred years ago, except that these days, the gates almost never closed. They were closed that day though. The Flaming Fist had sealed off the inner city at the request of the council. Guards had to examine everyone coming in and out of the port. Nobody seemed to know why, yet, that is the only thing that would save the city.

A few elves or dwarves will recall the events of Neverwinter a hundred year ago when the city was besieged from within, sacked and burned. These images haunted them long years before fading from memory. These images came rushing back as the outer wards of the city fell, one after the other, to a wave of death.

It started in the large flea market sitting next to various races districts, where gnomes, dwarves, elves or genasis came to barter their goods and skills. Nobody could see just what happens beside greenish flames bursting across the market, blasting from the ground, chasing people and burning through stalls. From the watch towers, guards could have a better view of the flames tracing magical runes, completing a circle of filled with symbols, killing and burning as they went.

Then a brief second of quiet, before the creatures appeared. Dozens of huge hulking patchwork abominations came surging from the market, surrounded with many more smaller rotting corpses. The attack was short, but the effect devastating, as every huge zombie hulk had a single purpose. Scatter across the city, and die. Died they did, as the Flaming Fist and various adventurers came forth to defend the city. Thus unleashing the real attack: Noxious gas surged from the dying corpses of the abominations, and spread across the streets, infecting the crowds, children and women. Killing the young and old faster than the strongest, only to see the dead rise and attack, infecting more people.

The wave of death crashed on the stone walls of the inner city, which the Flaming Fist barred.

Most of the rest died, hid or formed barricades. As far as the eye can see, from the walls of Baldur's Gate, the dead are crawling mindlessly. Waiting their master's orders.

The castle in the sky

Fylikiel was still tracing diagrams on the floor of the courtyard at a spot Moreclaym had designated, when Liw, Auburn and Aishar landed. He barely noticed them. Ritual magic was a precise science requiring concentration. But when they lay Acane's lifeless body against the stone walls, no amount of concentration would save his ritual.

He steeled himself, his face becoming a mask; his emotions were his own and he wouldn't share them openly. Auburn's face showed his pain though, as Aishar's showed weariness. The encounter had been trying, for all of them. That had been beaten.

Moreclaym's cleared his throat. As all four turned their eyes to him, he started.

" Young adventurers, it would be proper to let you mourn your fallen comrade, yet We should remind you of where we are. The shadowfel might very well claim her soul as well as her body, if it really is where we are now. Her god might find her fast enough also. Was she the pious kind? ", he continued before they could think of an answer. " We'd say burn her body here and now... ", to that both Auburn and Aishar burst in protests, but the plagued mage stopped them, " or you can leave her to us. I'll perform a Gentle Repose ritual to protect her, and keep her within my keep. Murnorr won't mind the company either. He is not the complaining kind".

" Also, We are curious, " he said after a pause and a nod toward the statue of his friend. " What shall you do? It seems to me two of you wish to go back to the crypts, and two of you want nothing to do with crypts. We offer that you stay here as we drift back toward Daggerford. Those of you who are restless can go explore these crypts. ", he hesitated and seemed a little annoyed, "  Yes yes. I am reminded that you could use some of my own ritual equipment. Linking a teleportation circle with my own would make for easy travel. Mugnorr insists that I help you in this endeavor. ", he finished sullenly.

The decisions were their's to make.

On the trail of the Heroes...

The massive obsidian wall blocking the path seemed mechanism and door less. As Liw was trying to find a mean to open it, Fylikiel consulted his old tomes, hoping to find details of the runes inscribed upon the door. Soon enough, he was able to find a passage describing how the Quel'Danas tombs were blocked to all but the descendant of the ancient family. Not hoping, Fylikiel touched the massive wall and was quite surprised to see it magically open for him, using his life force to activate the ancient magic.

They were greeted by a couple of savage twisted ghouls, corrupted by the spellplague, accompanied by two eladrin servants who turned out to be Flameskulls. Not without a few wounds, they defeated them, forcing the last one to destroy itself or face the arcane might of Liw and Fylikiel.

The outer cloister of the sanctum had four doors leading to chambers. And a fifth passage that was blocked off by a very powerful magical wall, that Fylikiel described as akin to mythals and elven high magic. From the Flameskulls laboratory and notes, they found almost nothing, save for a small obsidian disk bearing numbers. A dial, part of a mechanism it seemed.

One of the chamber had been cleared of guardians and traps by the servants, so they ventured into the 3 remaining chambers, battling a beholder guardian and its follower, savage Foulspawns. That encounter proved to be nearly fatal, explaining why the undead servants had not yet pried into these chambers. The second chamber was a water trap, nearly drowning them, but with Liw's quick thinking and Acane's determination, they were able to slow the water and crack the door open to escape alive. In these chambers they found another dial, larger than the first, and metal tablets with cryptic mathematical writings.

The last one contained stone altars with a slot into which the dials fit. Bearing arcane runes, these devices seemed to power a magical ritual, most probably holding the magical shield up. They struggled at deciphering the writings and mathematical formulas, using all their skills to figure out pieces of the possible. Hours passed before they were able to find the solution. Activating the devices in turn, they turned off the magical ritual, and going back to the first room of the tomb, they saw that they had indeed disabled the magical wall sealing the inner sanctum.

That was how they came to see the last resting place of Quel'Danas. In an large circular room, covered with magnificent frescoes depicting an epic battle between forces of good and evil, eladrins all. Stones pillars had a large plateform, that they determined was either a very large teleportation r some other ritual circle, as well as a smaller wall on the floor. At the back of the room, under the final scene of the fresco showing the two Quel'Danas twin in mortal combat, the sarcophagus lay, toped by the carving of a robed eladrin, impaled to the hilt by a sword.

" You have my thanks for opening the way. Welcome into my tomb ". A voice sounded from the passage from which they had come. Then from the following silence came heavy armored footstep. Walking into the room came the massive form of the Death Knight they had met what seemed months ago. Behind the knight came Quel'Danas himself. Garbed in leather robes and various gear, he walked to the middle of the room and greeted them further, thanking them for lifting the ritual, explaining how he had been forbidden access by his very nature: the magic kept undeath at bay. With the magic gone, he could at last claim his lost body, joining spirit and body again after millennias. The heroes tried to move in to stop him, by activating the ritual was too fast for them to act. Quel'Danas slit his wrist, and a green sluggish blood dripped to the floor, flowing to form runes. Within seconds, the eladrin shape had dissolved into rotting bones. Then the death knight swung his massive blade, shattering the rotting corpse of Quel'Danas and sharing its undead essence with his master, starting the ritual.

They tried as best they could to stop the ritual, but it was all they could to survive the devastating brute necrotic strength of the death knight. Even weakened, the undead warrior proved too strong for them, unleashing necrotic flames and nearly killing Fylikiel, Aishar and Auburn at the same time. Fylikiel teleported himself to the top of the altar, witnessing the ritual with his own eyes. Desperate, he tried his magic against the transforming eladrin, to be struck by a protective shield, the jolt knocking him unconscious. Acane followed him, climbing from the sarcopagus and reaching the top. Liw had thought the ancient corpse the key of the ritual and had poured all he had of acid and even mouther blood into the sarcophagus, and utlimately, that was what affected Quel'Danas most. As Liw had to the other end of the room and climb a ladder to the plateform,, he activated a magical sight, allowing him to see the trapped souls of eladrins escaping the walls and flowing onto the plateform, out of sight. Then the coffin exploded, sending shards of rocks accross the room and knocking them down, even the death knight.

That explosion marked the end of the ritual.

Standing on the platform, Quel'Danas stood an instant, unmoving. Then smiled, as if unbelieving.

"It worked", he whispered, mostly to himself. Longing for the world, he activated the platform with a gesture, magically transporting it to the surface, hundreds of meters above the ground, within a few seconds. Separating the group, leaving Aishar and Auburn behind, stuck with the powerful Death Knight.

Luckily for them, the Death Knight, his task done, had nothing to do with them and after a last necrotic blast, left them alone and bloody. They had to bargain their way with the drows to go back, freely giving Naism'na all the information they knew in exchange for safe passage, a deal the drow was pleased to accept.

Meanwhile, Liw, Acane and Fylikiel faced a most dire peril. A newly resurrect Eladrin arcanist, paragon of his race. They thought for an instant that he might still be weakened by the ritual. As Que'Danas comtemplated the vast wilderness of the swordcoast in wonder, they all tried to attack him in turn. Liw's eldritch blast missed by a mile, Fylikiel's snake sprout to life and fuel his Call of the Plague, to naught. Unmoving, the Eladrin just stood, breathing in the air peacefully, oblivious to their attacks... until two arrows struck him in the back, wounding him.

The pain broke his blissful moment. He turned toward Acane, angry. Without a word, he unleashed his magic at the poor tiefling. A violent frostburn spells exploded around her, leaving her nearly dead and encased in ice, yet she survied. Then Quel'Danas moved faster than the eye, appearing next to her, then invoking telekinetic hands to lift her bodily, and throw her off the platform, to her certain death. It all happened so fast, none of the two others had time to react.

Then Quel'Danas turned to them, "Anyone else has the desire to anger me in this most blissful of times, and come to his untimely death? Are you so eager to die?"

Fylikiel, overcome by emotion and all that had happened, could only defy him with words, "You think you have won. But know this, you think your brother dead. But as you resurrected, so will he. I know that it is true. As a descendant of your ancient family, I vow to find his lost power and destroy you, Quel'Danas.".

The ancient Eladrin had no response to that threat; obviously shaken by the notion, he only stared at Fylikiel, looking at him uncertain, as the truth came to him: he was not the last of his kind. Then, giving himself to his god and faith, Fylikiel let himself fall from the side of the platform, hoping that his destiny did not involve the rocky ground below.

Liw was left alone with the eladrin. Quel'Danas turned to him, "And you, Warlock, are you as foolish as your companions, do you wish to defy me and die?". To that, the demonic warlock answered "I have faced the cruelty and wrath of demons and gods. I will not submit to the likes of you!".

"So be it. Join your friends. Try your best, warn your people. Know this though: On this day, your world as you knew it i forever changed. Soon, all you see will be mine, as it was when the world was still young."

Then his body lost shape and transformed into a swarm of wasps. Then he was gone.

Alone, Liw allowed himself to breathe again. The demonic voice in his head echoing charming invitations and angered threats all at once. He ignored them and busied himself in sorting his belongings and studying the platform.

Soon after, a floating castle came to carry him away. The gods must have heard Fylikiel, as he had fell right into the courtyard of Moreclaym's magical castle instead of falling to his death. It all seemed incredible, but after what had just happened, they were not surprised in the least. With Moreclaym's handy magic, they found Auburn and Aishar, as well as the dead corpse of Acane, and carried them back to the floating castle, as it drifted away from the coast.

On that day, the world had changed. Forgotten perils had reemerged along the swordcoast, and the Realms would never be the same...

Baldur's Gate - 1479 DR - 4th of Elcasias

Some hundred years ago, Baldur's Gate was a capital city of roughly 40'000 souls. But during the dark years of the Spellplague, the city laid untouched by wild magics. Thousands of people moved in, from everywhere around Faerun. Every race has its place, even its ward beyond the former city walls, and the housings spread across the lands. The population swelled so much, it has become the most populous city in the realms, larger even than Waterdeep and Calimport. The Flaming Fist now acts as the local militia, under the order of Grand Duke Portyr and the city's parliament. Life is good, if not always quiet, in the Miracle City, and in this warm Elcasias day, the sun would shine as high as the polulace's spirit, if it could be seen. Darkness covers the city just as it covered the rest of the coast, but Baldurians don't get worried over such phenomenon. The gods have protected the city through the spellplague, and the word around town is that they will protect it through this as well.

Watchfulness

Situated between a wild and dangerous Najara, an empire of Yuan-Ti and lizardfolks, and Amn whose intention are ever doubtful at best, Elturgard stand proud and strong. With its second sun forever burning bright above the capital, Elturgard is led by the clergy of Torm and the country is a beacon of hope and righteousness. Ever watchful, never flinching.

Holy Champion Cerbero was watching Northwest that morning. Again. What he read in the sky was only bad omen, just like the day before. A test of their faith; not just the city over which he watched, Triel, but of all that which Torm protects. The Realms. Faerun.

He put his hand on his squire's shoulder, a young boy of 10, but brave.

" Prepare my horse, and weapons. Tell the master-at-arms that I want 200 champions ready to march. I want Sir Seristan leading them. We'll march at noon, after the prayers and blessings ".

The boy bowed and left with his orders.

Cullen Cerbero  was done watching the darkness creeping far in the horizon from the top of his tower. He made a sharp croaking sound, and a raven soon landed next to him. He tied a message to it and sent him toward Elturel.

He would not let this evil creep slowly across the lands and sit idly.

Along the coast...

The night had fled but let its gloom behind. Joe Brandis was looking out the window, from his comfortable place on the featherbed. The nights were darker now, the days almost just as bad. What they thought was a storm was in fact the shadows. They fell on the coast and hid the sky. He looked out, trying to see the stars, some guidance sent by Selune, as he so often looked for at sea, but the sky stayed grey and dark. How long had he been sober now? Days only, yet it seemed years. His brother had found him, and he brought hope that Joe had given up long ago. With this task that had been left behind for him by his younger brother, Joe found strength he did not know he still had.

A shape stirred beside him under the furs. Telandra was waking up, turning to face him. The furs slipped from her breasts, yet she made no move to pull them back. Strong in her faith, she was keeper of Selune's Eye Lighthouse and leader of the silverstars of the region.

" What do you have in mind, Joe Brandis, to lay awake so? ", she asked gently.

He smiled.

" I was just thinking that all my life, I looked up to the moon, blessing Selune for guiding our ship. Yet, now that shadows cover the lands, Selune gives me an even better light to guide me through the night.", he said, cupping her breast.

Telandra drew closer and slid her hands under the furs, whispering " Are all ex pirates as charming as a Brandis? "

He chuckled, " You may find other pirates just as charming, but you'll find none as eager to please as me. "

She had her hands between his legs. She understood just what he meant.

On the trail of the heroes...

The large plaguecave opened before them, vast and lost in fog, debris and earthen isles floating freely. A torrent of raw blue fire, unmistakable manifestation of the spellpague, tore through the vaulted chasm, eating right through a jutting spire in the middle, spraying a swarm of rocks in the air. The debris turned into a flowing river of rocks, snaking through the cave and disappearing through the fog. As incredible and impossible as the cave looked, the arcane minds soon understood that the reality was fringed and the truth of the world had little meaning there. From the spire in the middle was growing a large tree, bearing strange fruits, and a bridge led from it to the other side. Sometimes ice, sometimes molten lava, the bridge was constantly changing. From the side of the spire, a river flowed, changing to steam then flowing slowly. But there was no mean to reach the spire's flat top, beside trying to fly across the room on the floating platforms. Such platforms were sometimes getting struck by fast flowing rocks in the strange rock stream, or were hitting the walls with a strange wet sound before bouncing back. Most dreadfully, they also frequently gravitated through the flowing spellplague torrent, setting them aflame in a fiery blue blaze, which died softly leaving barely any trace.

Aishar went first, tying a rope to the tree in the middle after floating the distance safely on a platform. Fylikiel started on the rope, while Auburn and Acane struggled and kept each other from falling from another drifting platform, doing all they could to avoid the blue flames. Then, to Aishar's misfortune, a blazing blue dragon crawled out from a cave in the spire. No longer red, the plaguechanged dragon youngling crawled on the spire and stared at Aishar. Then the sword at his hand seemed to react, intriguing the dragon. The beast considered them a moment. Aishar thought the dragon tame, when the beast savagely attacked him. Biting, clawing, breathing fire. Aishar laughed at the fire, being almost immuned to its effect thanks to his elemental blood, but the claws racked the flesh right off his limbs as the dragon furiously tried to kill him. The might of a dragon, even plagued, was a fearsome thing, and if not for Auburn, Aishar would be charred meat. Acane and Fylikiel threw all they could at the beast, trying as best then can to stay alive in the deadly living cave, while Liw did his best not to pummel to his death while helping defeat the beast. He even prevented, rather painfully but with success, Acane from being the next victim to the claws, after Aishar had fallen. Only for an instant though, for soon his companion got him back on his feet.

The greatest surprise brought them to the greatest realization. As the dragon flew back and seemed to concentrate, rocks and platforms started drifting to them, threatening to crush them under tonnes of stone, or send them falling to a certain death. Without hope, Fylikiel tried the same, calling on his knowledge of the Arcane and the plague and trying to shape the very reality around him... with success! He was able to bend the largest rock to his will, stopping it short of their location. Liw soon followed his example, even Aishar. Soon the dragon gave up and flew back into physical combat, but the tide had turned. The beast was finally slain. As Liw and Fylikiel explored the marvels of their hold on the cave, Acane preferred to leave the cursed place as soon as the beast was dead. Aishar went for the hoar, Liw for a different kind of hoar in form of dragon blood and various body parts.

Although victorious, they paid a dire price. Fiddling with the plague got them more eaten up by it. To Liw's dismay, the blue fire claimed his eye, rippling around it like a sun of blue flames, while Fylikiel's veins turned to blue fire under his skin along his left arm, trailing up to the snakelike scar protruding from his shoulders. Unlike  Liw, he seemed to embrace it, finding it very interesting. Liw knew better and preferred to put some distance between him and the plague.

They left and soon came upon a distressed Acane. The plague had claimed its due of her also, tearing apart her whole body and changing her into an half demon. Tears flowing, she showed them the truth of her demonic heritage, revealing that it was her real shape. The other one simply a clever illusion she had kept for years as a favor from an unrevealed benefactor.

But they did not turn away from her. They welcomed her as never before, for they all had dark secrets and darked pasts.

Fylikiel, lost children of his house, had stolen ancient priceless tomes and had lived long in the shadowfell, learning of the monstrous ways of eladrin bloodlines.

Aishar's escape from a secret faction of the shades, masters of magic and swords, and flight across the realms as a pirate, along with Auburn, whose family had been corsairs and pirates for countless years.

Liw escaped the mad experiments of his family at the price of his soul, as demonic magic purged his dying adolescent body of the spellplague. Later becoming a warlock at the price of torture and his sanity, he was able to tear himself free, betraying a succubus who was using him to betray his demon lord, imprisoning her in her own trap. A succubus who turned out to be... Acane! Or what the spellplague had ripped out of her some 50 or 60 years ago, changing her from a twisted bloodline of elven demons, and splitting her into two beings. Everything that was vile and unsalvageable created the succubus, another scion of the Abyss, while the rest was left behind. Remnants of gentleness and decency, courage and beauty.

Brought together by their darkest sides, the companions rested, regaining some strength to face whatever horror is hidden in the ancient runs of the Quel'Danas sanctum...

On the trail of the heroes...

The descent into the underdark was very much like any tunnel. The damp air, the earthy smell, the occasional stalagmites and moss covered walls. Aside from the glowing worms, there seemed no mysteries, and after Fylikiel explained that these worms were simply feeding on the spores of Magivore plants, a coral like plant that feeds off magic, and doing so changed them strangely. Nothing scary so far, so the heroes were chatting silently, Auburn inquiring on Liw's past, or their purpose down there... when Acane silenced them. She'd heard the echoes of something Liw had just said, but distorded, repeated, whispered, up ahead. Quiet and alert, then went forward into a tunnel formations, branching and folding back on the main passage... Auburn and Aishar went first into the center tunnel, to fall face to face with a mound of bloated flesh, covered with horrible mouths and eyes. While at the same time, from the right, a tentacular floating brain with a large beak came from a niche in the ceiling and fell down on Liw. Aishar lashed the beast closer with his lightning whip, only to realize with dismay that the senseless gibbering escaping from the creatures countless mouths were not only annoying. They were sinking painfully into his brain, and even seemed to warp the very ground around it, making him sway and move with difficulties. That is when the mouths on his own body appeared and bit at himself. If that was not horrifying enough, another such aberration came from the left tunnel behind them, causing the same pains to all the others. Worst still, the Grell then fell on Liw, grabbed him, bit him, and the warlock's body went senseless as the grell starting floating back, dragging a stunned Liw along. Only the rays of frost of Fylikiel kept the monster from floating away with Liw as the warlock struggled to stay conscious. Aishar and Auburn were stuck between the two gibbering mouther, and everything seemed lost, but they held it together and with with extreme luck, just barely came out of it, all alive.
Their trip into the underdark was not so amusing after that, and some even thought of going back, finding a way out. But Acane reminded them of their purpose here... So they went forward, found a hidden cave well out of sight from the tunnel, and tried to get some rest. Again, they were discussing, when again came in a hurry. She had peeked out to stand watch, and seen the large body of a large snakelike underground predator she called a Grick. It lay there in spasms. Liw examined it and came to the conclusion that it was dying. Auburn found tiny nasty looking bolts. They all turned and looked at each others, shocked. They understood what it meant: drows. That damn neared convinced them to turn back, but somehow they steeled their nerves, slept with a tight watch, and woke up alive. The following day, they started again down the caves, and their conversation was more quiet this time. As their discussion swerved toward the drows again, they were interrupted by an unseen woman clearing her throat. Turning around, they were struck silent as before them stood a gorgeous, yet terrifying drow female in platemail. Their fear were soon forgotten though, as she presented herself Nayism'Na, and said she required their help, as they had a common enemy: an undead rising mad eladrin had moved into long forgotten buried ruins. She explained she'd do quick work of him, as his presence was a nuisance, but the drows couldn't reach the ruins. She remained a little as to why, but said they would understand. Liw was even so bold after their agreement as to offer his help in the future, if the drows required help at the surface. She smiled and freely admitted to be of Bregan D'Aerthe, a name the two pirates had heard whispered before. Nayism'Na promised they would discuss it further, given they survived the tunnels. She drew them a map, and the was gone.
So they went on in the depths of the world, coming across some caves halfway to their destination according to the map. Curious, they moved in, only to disturb the meal of two carrion crawlers. As they fought, their group separated in two, they experienced the nasty paralyzing poison these beasts were notorious for. First, Acane, then Liw again. Then a third crawler came from a hidden passage. Then as one retreated back in fear, Otyughs jumped up from their nests under refuse piles, at the back of the cave, and attacked them from behind. After much being thrown around, they defeated the dungeons beasts, but not without lasting pains, for Auburn and Aishar contracted the nasty filth fever.They picked up remains from past adventurers, while Liw gathered a heaping pile of crawler eggs, tiny compared to the mature ones, and hid it in his Handy Haversack.
And on they were again, soon to come to what the drow had labeled as the Plaguecaves. They soon understood what it meant, as Liw and Fylikiel felt the distinct arcanic taint of the spellplague. The bright light at the end of their tunnel turned out to be what seemed to be bright daylight. And it was, for when they exited, they seemed to be outside. The cave was not a cave, but a immense pocket of raw spellplague. And much like the plaguelands of the surface, this place was "scarred" in ways that defied understanding. They were standing at the edge of a cliff, lost in clouds, with the blue sky and sunlight. The edge was dripping bits of earth and rocks upward into the air, carried by a cool wild breeze...

The world below the world

Nowhere is more dangerous than the Underdark. But even for the denizen roaming the dark reaches of Faerun, there are places you do not go, things you avoid. For Nayissm'na, staying in charge of her pocket of Bregan D'Aerthe meant knowing all of these dangers. Avoiding them, using them, making them. Knowledge and control was survival in drow society, even for sellswords of the drow mercenary organization. When she received news that undead creatures were roaming the upper world, terrorizing the swordcoast, Nayissm'na could only roll her eyes and curse. Of course, these stupid undead were everywhere. She have had her share to deal with for quite some time now. At first, she thought their master was after the same thing she was. Now she was more inclined to believe that she was after something that belonged for that Eladrin for a long time.

If only there were those damned Plaguecaves to worry about. But that eladrin had all sorts of servants, none of which seemed impressed by drows. Even there, she'd have dealt with them already, but they were not her only worries. 

Just when Nayissm'na was thinking of making a move on that arrogant Eladrin, she got news from her scouts. The kruthiks had just been taken care of by a small band of adventurers. She had to smile. One less thing to worry about. And maybe... if there were coming this way...

" What shall we do with these surfacedwellers, Nayis? " , asked her consor, always eager to please her with some bloodshed.

" Let them come... I believe I will meet them. "

On the trail of the heroes...

"Doomspores... These are from the Shadowfell... They're not so dangerous unless you're wounded... yet... this many...". Fylikiel informed his companions. Yet, these mushrooms were growing thick and large around large phlegmy cocoons. Unnatural eggs, that vaguely resembled Kruthik eggs, but much larger, and with a decayed, sick look. Yet, they could not simply avoid them, although they could have. Whatever was growing inside these would have to die. And they did. Liw and Fylikiel told Aishar to step aside, as they unleashed their magic to destroy one of these eggs at a distance. But that awakened a couple of Boneshards skeletons, scattered at the back of the room. They rose and stumbled right through the doomspores, spreading the vile spore in the air. They then freed the kruthik abominations from their eggs and attacked. The zombified Kruthiks proved to be much tougher than their living kin, yet were no match for the heroes. Wisely avoiding the spore clouds, they unleashed their devastating magic at them, while Aishar and Auburn held tight at the front. The boneshards proved a dangerous threat, but with Auburn's lead and commands, they came out of it almost unbloodied. Once the spores were fallen back to the cave's floor, they pushed on, readying themselves for the confrontation... The Hive's broodmother.

What they faced repulsed them by its horror. The wounded and dying humans the kruthiks were dragging underground were fed to their broodmother continuously. Heavily guarded by huge kurthiks, the approach was not easy. The battle raged a long time. Even if the heroes had grown experts at killing these creatures, the Hive Lord proved a ferocious opponent full of tricks; its acid spits was almost the end of them, but mimicking Acane's movement, they scattered around it, reducing the deadly effect of its breath attack. Slowly, they mowed through the varmint until only youngling and the queen remained. Although huge and slow, the queen proved as deadly as the Hive Lord, if not more, as she swallowed Auburn. Focusing on damaging the queen, they were able to free him, as the broodmother spit him back out in pain and fury. Alive but in pieces, the heroes ended the vile existence of the monstrosity. The rest scattered in mindless fear... leaving the hive strangely silent.

In the Broodmother's nest they found a strange necrotic ritual device still functioning, yet degrading fast. As if it had recently been left unused. Fylikiel recognized a black gemstone used in the device. Very much alike to one they had found in a sentient undead they had faced on their way. The device, they learned, was designed to corrupt the kruthik cocoons. Although improbable because of their resistance, the kruthik could be transformed into stronger and easily controlled undead abominations. They destroyed it and reduced the ritual symbols to crumbled rocks.

And that was the end of the Kruthik hive.

Before them, at the back of the Broodmother's chamber, opened a narrow passage, digging further in the depths of Faerun. Fluorescent worms crawling along the moss covered walls of the tunnel lit their way, dimly. Unknowing, they were about to past a dangerous threshold; the doorstep to the Underdark is an easy one to cross. Never to be seen again in many cases.

A broken heart, A broken Soul

During his youth, if there is anyone Turcanor Everlighted loved more than anything else, it was his father. His proud father was a model wielder of the light, Champion of Tyr and defender of everything that was good and just and pure in Faerun. He also was a loving father who tended to Turcanor's every needs, taught him the letters and the sword. But one day, his father had gone and never again did he see him... alive.

The young Turcanor was them raised by the Church and taken into his vows of paladinhood at the age of 14. He was then given the only thing the church had found of his loved father: The Everlighted Family Claymore. Holding his father's sword, Turcanor knew that day that although he was serving his god Tyr in every things, he would never rest until he avenged his father.

Years of adventuring have taken Turcanor across the realms, and his tale would not be a short one, along with the stout dwarven warrior Abubu and many other companions. His travels and adventures had one day given him words of a Death Knight, a vile undead creature, traitor to his god and minion of Bane, was terrorizing the people and dwelling in the Bone Hills, a battlefield of old, close to Anaurochs, the Sea of Sand. But there Turcanor did find the Death Knight. Battling the undead, they found a weakness in the Circlet the creature wore. Once parted from it though, instead of being vanquished, the undead took of his helm, revealing the a rotting face that Turcanor recognized. Freed from the control of his corrupted masters, his Father was now recovering some memory. Turcanor had come to lay a monster to rest. But instead, he had brought back his old wounds and had his dearest wish granted!

Or so he thought. Long lost was his Father's humanity and years of vile deeds had corrupted what little was left of his mind. Without a soul, without sanity, the freed Death Knight could barely control his evil. They set out on a quest to try and free him of the grasp of evil. To get Tyr's Pardon for the fallen paladin. It was the only purpose of Turcanor's life.

But what great betrayal had caused his father's to fall from grace and be abandoned by Tyr, Turcanor never knew, for while they were deep in the underdark, undertaking a great quest as present to Tyr, his comrade turned on him and destroyed his father.

What madness had taken them? Did they not understand Turcanor's mission. Or was it madness that blinded Turcanor and they did him a favor? His dream destroyed, Turcanor lost his senses and killed his traitorous companion, leaving the wounded Abubu as food for the Xorns and never looking back as he left.

On that day, he was cursed. Tyr did not forgive his impulses, yet Turcanor did not accept that his god let his Father be destroyed, so close to redemption. Cursing Tyr and cursing life, no tale speak of what happened of him afterward.

Until a century later. Now a Death Knight, Turcanor still wields the sword of his father. The Everlighted Claymore, a sentient blade, was also hurt by the loss and shunted the light as well. Now renamed Tearslayer, the claymore serves his undead master with a burning fury.

Without purpose, he mourned the loss of his father a long time, sometimes associating with evil gods to assault Tyr's church.

He nows answer to another power. His call was heard not long ago and his voice was commands to him. Angry at the loss of his freewill, but welcoming the purpose to his existence, Turcanor answered the necrotic call of Qual Danas, an ancient evil now awakening along the Sword Coast.

Waiting is not really part of the dogma.

" I should have stayed with the Blood Ravens. At least Galarnok had some sort of a plan. ".

Two hours sharing the same table with the paladin and these were the first words he pronounced. Slowly, with his deep and serious voice, like he was carefully thinking every word through, for his words were set in stone.

Stuh Ryback, sitting opposite him at a small table of the Clockwork Inn of Daggerford, looked up from an empty glass and met Genhal Rockystone's eyes.

" Galarnok is a fool. He has not seen the ravage of that disease. Of course he will kill some of them. Bloody Hell, he'll slaughter legions of them. But that will not stop them. ", he replied, lost in thoughts.

" The Raven will secure a safe haven along the coast, where we can prepare and strike. ", the earth genasi said calmly.

The paladin of Torm nodded. He would very much have liked to meet with the adventurers he had seen in Waterdeep when the disease started. He left them notes, they left him notes. he was frustrated. All he knew is that this disease is a lure. Something bigger was coming and the packs of undead attacking the farmlands was just the first drops of a flood.

He felt the pull of the Shadowfell, tugging at this world's borders, bringing the worlds closer. He felt such a thing before, years ago, in another time...

" Listen my friend. Starting now, things will get bad. The likes even us might not have ever seen. And you, as I, have seen much. "

The genasi met the Paladin's stare.

" Why are you so certain? ", he asked.

" Certain? Hah, there is no such thing as certainty, aside from my faith in Torm ", Stuh paused to have a thought for his deity. " And this feeling I have, I believe it comes from him. Temperance, my friend, and patience."

The stone champion was silent for a long time. Neither men talked. Then the tall genasi got up.

" Let us go, Stuh. ", he said.

Stuh shrugged. He left a handful of coins and got up.

" Allright. Let's go. To hell with waiting for them. I'll leave a note. "

Genhal smiled. Stuh caught his expression and shrugged again.

" Waiting has never been part of my dogma. Now... What would you make of a trip on a flying castle? "

At the Hollow Hills Keep...

Their archer comrades covering them and watching closely from the tree line, they started along the path leading to the keep walls. Their leaders had been right; the keep was inhabited again. It did not take two days, new goblins and their undead masters had come. No word from the scouts. These must have been more than simple mindless zombies to surprise and kill their scouts without being noticed by the frequent patrols...

Controlling his fear and steeling his nervers, Yurmael reached the outside walls of the keep and risked a look inside. The courtyard was covered with a light fog. Nothing moved.

He heard a gasp behind him and turned around to see his companion tight in the grasp of a vaporous monster. He swung at it, cutting accross its arm to free his friend, and hit only air. Then hands grabbed at his ankles, almost tripping him. With horror, he saw skeletal hands piercing through the ground around him. That is where the undead at come from: From bodies buried around the keep. He tried to pry himself free, slashes at the hands as the skeletons were freeing themselves from the ground. Yurmael looked at his friend and saw he was already dead: a pale figure stripped of life energy and shocked to death, his body drifting to the floor through the wraith's ethereal body.

He slashed at it again, to no good. Them bony hands grab him from all sides and he loses his nerves. He starts screaming in utter terror, crying for Corelon's help.

With a painful tug, skeletons hands wrenched away his armor and skin and he thought it was the end, and prayed for it to be quick. Yet what he heard next was the distinct crack of multiple bones. Then rattling against heavy metal plates as the skeletons were attacking whoever had come behind him. He opened his eyes and turned around and what he saw, he could not believe.

An enormous plate clad man was lifting two skeletons and launching them with brutal force against the stone walls where they crashed and shattered. His plate was heavy and crowned by a huge helm showing a skull and nothing but two pin holes for the eyes. The shoulders were huge blades. But what stroke Yurmael mute was the four arms, now drawing two huge bastard swords and two shields, as the wraith went for him.

The blades took bluish and greenish hues as the armored man engaged the undead, yet his attacks seemed to have little effect on his ethereal opponent. Likewise, the heavy armor offered little protection against the insubstancial body of the wraith.

And as if the four arms was not enough surprise, the man dropped swords and shields, stepped back and from his hips, drew four strange weapons, akin to crossbows with no bow or strings. Yurmael reckoned these were guns, rare alchemical weapons. Rumors had it they made a mess, but no stories prepared him for what came next.

The hulking man pointed his four arms toward the wraith and press all four triggers, unleashing a thunderous blast from each, and from each a devastating arc of lightning went and strucked the undead. The noise and termendous energy sent the elf crashing backward. For him, the end of the world couldn't be any worse.

Yet, all that was left was a strange smell in the air. No trace of the undead.

The huge man snorted, slid a panel of his helm open to spit gruesome phlegm where the wraith had been, then turned and walked toward the keep.

Behind him, a man stood, came forward and offered him his hand. He too was in a heavy and evil looking armor, but his helm was at his side. On his chest was the symbol of the Flaming fist of Baldur's Gate.

" It seems you have an undead problem, Sir elf. ".

From the woods, Yurmael heard the footsteps of elves arriving. Much too late if it wasn't for these two strangers help.

" My name is Galarnok Partack. Excuse the brutal efficiency of my friend. Lukkieddi Voricht does not know how to hold back. ", he went on.

" It so happens that I am looking for a place to setup a camp against these undead. It also appears that you fair folks are spread too thin accross the woods to hold this keep as well. "

Yurmael was still too stunned to find words, he simply nodded, a little too fast, trying to keep his heart from exploding.

" It seems you and I can reach an... agreement, right friend? ", and he smiled.

Damned be thy name

"Acane... What are you doing?"

I'm waiting in my cold cell, reflecting on my past life, when the bell begins to chime; I don't have much time, because at 5 o'clock, they take me to the Gallows pole.

The sands of time, for me are running low.

"Running low...."

When the priest comes to give me the last rites, I take a look through the bars at the last sights of a world that has gone very wrong for me. Everything that happened must have been some sort of error. Now it's hard to stop the surmounting terror. Is this really the end or just a crazy dream? Somebody please tell me that I'm dreaming....

"You are not dreaming. This is real. But I can help you..."

It's not easy to stop from screaming. Words escape me when I try to speak. Tears flow, but why am I crying? After all I'm not afraid of dying. I never believed there would never be an end...

"But it does not have to end like this. All you have to do is let me help you..."

As the guards bring me out in the courtyard, somebody crys from a cell "Gods be with you!". I have to smile. None of them gods would not let me die. As I walk, all my life drifts before me. And though the end is near, I am not sorry.

"You were freed from the damned yet you believe this is your fate?"

As my executioner ties the rope around my neck, I wish I found the strength to speak. Mark my words, believe my soul lives on. I'm not worried now that I going. I'm going beyond to seek the truth. When you know your time is close at hand, you begin to understand that life is just a strange illusion.

"Although it might seems like an illusion, it is all you have. Are you ready to lose it?"

The traps open and then I fall. My heart stops and I wait for my death. When I reach the end my neck cracks but does not snap. The horror fills me as I try to gasp for air. Pain flares up as I suffocate. The cheers of the crowd fade fast and I'm left alone in agony.

"The faithless and the damned will welcome you..."

I'm losing consciousness. There is nothing peaceful about death. There is only fear, pain and loneliness.

I don't want to die.

I know....

On the trail of the Heroes...

The damp underground tunnels proved to be very deadly, and the heroes found that out within minutes.

As Aishar went exploring a direction, he found a man laying amongs rocks and dirts, barely conscious. Preoccupied by the man, he did not notice that a puddle of dark water he had walked past was actually moving, crawling toward him. But Auburn's keen eye picked the subtle movement as he moved closer. Auburn's asked Fylikiel what he thought of a moving puddle of dark water, and as the stranger was asking if he was talking to Fylikiel Zerfis, the deadly Black Pudding attacked. The fight was a tough one. They could not escape the acidic grasp of the utterly unintelligent creatue whose sole purpose in existence is to consume. Realizing that if not for the group of adventurers, he probably would have been the next meal, the Warlock Liw joined the fight with his eldritch magic. Which proved critical in the fight, as every physical blow to the ooze splattered it around the tunnel, and every splatters turned to be lethal opponents also. Magic won the fight with Fylikiel and Liw's unrelelenting assaults, while Auburn was trying his best to keep him and Aishar alive. Acane tried her best, but she was more busy killing the Black pudding spawns than the actual threat.

The new comer, having found his quarry, signaled his success to his employer, Fylikiel's sister, and did not think secrecy necessary. What his sister wants with him remains a mystery, but these were matters for later, as they soon found themselves caught in another deadly situation: The tide was rising, flooding the tunnel they were in.

Perhaps the closest they came with death, panick was close, but they soon collected their wits and rushed as best they could down the tunnel. they soon gave up finding a tunnel up, as the water came crashing always harder, and climbing fast. Fylikiel used his dust of creation to form a small raft, barely fit for more than one, but which proved critical in their survival. Liw joined force with him to paddle them faster downstream, hoping to find a cove or a tunnel, while Aishar, unimpressed with the threat as he could breathe easily underwater, tied a rope to their raft, and helped Auburn and Acane catch it. Auburn, most of all, proved his heroism and valor in the face of death, as Acane was tugged by the undertow and drawn underwater. He helped her back up, and kept his grip on her in their flight down the tunnel, although it nearly cost him dearly as she was dragging him down. Aishar was in time with the rope, and soon Acane was able to fight the panic and stay alive.

Aishar, swimming forward with all his might, was able to fight the water's pull and push himself into a natural cover underground, where he set hold and tried to keep his friends from flowing further. Fylikiel used his magic to teleport himself out of the water and help Aishar out, and tug at the rope. And as the heroes were desperately trying to fight the deadly water, Kruthik attacked them! With not a second of break, Fylikiel went on taking the fight to the Kruthiks, taking hard and painful hits while buying Aishar time to save the others.

In the end, they were victorious and safe... But wet and exhausted. They decided to rest for a few hours and they accepted Liw as one of them, trusting him instinctly after such ordeals.

Once well rested, they went on down the tunnels, trying to follow the paths taken most frequently and recently, until they walked into a large cavern crawling with kruthiks. Over 20 of them, rushing about, sorting and transporting human bodies, many of them hurt or sick but still alive and screaming in agony. As war packs of Kruthiks came in and out of the cavern, they were spotted and had to face over a dozen of the creatures, while the smaller ones run away, carrying the bodies they could get before leaving.

The fight was a slaughter, as Fylikiel's potent magic mowed through the lesser Kruthiks, and the others finished the stronger ones, but the whole battle was not much of a challenge. The real challenging part followed, as Aishar went to the cage and pit of bodies, to see mind numbing horrors of agony and desperation. He soon realized the living were probably all infected with the necrotic plague they had witnessed, and Aishar also fears he's been again contaminated. Putting an end to their misery, he cremated them all with his green fire magic.

On they went, barely avoiding a trap laid by human hands, and finding their way down to a chamber filled with coccoons. Not of Kruthiks, but of what they dont know. The place is covered with what Fylikiel immediately recognized as deadly Doomspores mushrooms, and at the end of the room, on the other side of the coccoons and doomspores, was a large opening leading further down.

What horrible truth is growing inside these coccoons? How will they get close enough to examine them? How deep are they underground and how long until they find the heart of the hive? Soon, they fear, they will find out...

Lyrlia Zerfis meets Liw Snadtar

" It is a blessing we ran into each other. With the Flaming Fist scouring the lands for undead and lizardfolks, recruiting a good mercenary in Baldur's Gate is not as easy as you'd think.", started Lyrlia Zerfis, sitting in front of a middle aged half-elf.

"I told you, I am not a mercenary...", objected Liw Snadtar, but seeing what Liw laid on the table next to the bottle of wine, he paused a second then added, "... but there is always room for discussion.".

Lyrlia smiled as she removed the cloth from around a very special pair of bracers, showing gold, gems and magical runes.

"Of course, I remember, you made it quite clear. And I do not require a simple mercenary, which is why I am interested in you. You see, I come from far, and in this region, I know no one. Yet, I have come to search for someone and have to cover a great deal of lands to find him. I do not wish to hire you to kill or abduct. Simply to find. But it will be dangerous, especially now...", she let her voice trail...

"... now that the lands between here and Waterdeep are slowly being infected with undeath.", the half-elf said, picking up where the eladrin had left, repeating words she had told him earlier. He had recently arrived from Amn and completed what he had come to do in Baldur's Gate. He had found the Miracle city under a curfew and unusually strict guard, which was unheard of in the last decades.

"And this, I assume, is my payment?" he added, referring to the bracers with his eyes.

"You are almost right. This is you first payment", she correted. "It has potent magic I am sure you will have good use for, Warlock", as Liw was about to interrupt, she rose a hand. "No need to ask how I can tell, I just know. Take it for now. When we next meet, I'll have more for you. As for the question you're about to ask, let me answer... His name is Fylikiel Zerfis and he is my brother".

Liw was silent a second, wondering for a moment if the eladrin was actually reading his mind, or just deducing that this was the only logical question he could have asked. And if his eldritch ties were really so apparent. Lyrlia went on.

"He travels with adventurers from Waterdeep. Recently returned from a trip to the Moonshae Isles, they took upon themselves to investigate necrotic attacks along the sword coast. They were also appointed by a high ranking Flaming Fist officer for the same purpose. I have looked accross the region for this Galarnok Partack, and could not find him. Nor could I find Stuh Ryback, a well respected paladin from Waterdeep, who is also investigating these undead attacks".

She paused a second to let the warlock take it all in. He seemed suspicious for a second...

"You mean to tell me I am to track an adventurer along the sword coast, as he tracks zombies, just to tell him his sister is looking for him? I don't buy it".

Lyrlia feigned surprise, that much was obvious to Liw. She expected him to inquire more, of course.

"You are right, there is more to it. ", she went on, "Truth is, my brother disappeared decades ago from my family's quarters. We had thought him dead after triggering wild and powerfull magical traps from ancient sealed tomes. And now, he is back and alive".

Liw nodded. That made more sense. Also, he suspected this lost brother possessed something that was precious, that very same thing that had been trapped. But that much, he did not share with Lyrlia. In Amn, you learn to not voice such hypothesis without proofs. Better that she didn't know what he suspected.

"And how will I be able to tell that he's really your brother?", he asked simply.

"He bears a spellscar in the shape of a snake."

The Twins of the Feywild

Fylikiel invoked magic lights, revealing the cover of the old tome. The Book of Uld, the cover said in an ancient language, obfuscated by old magic. The turned the cover and passed the first pages where the author, Yogg'Sar, presented himself. He leaged through a few pages, then his eyes come to rest on a page with notes and sketches added in the margins; someone had deciphered these writings and added notes and comments to the text...

The Twins

The Sundering had left the world broken and the remnants of civilizations were struggling to find their place in a world without the enlightened ones. Few such races had taken refuge, or were dragged, into other worlds (planes) . From one such realm, a realm of dreams and illusions (feywild), came the moon folks (eladrins!) . Their world had strong ties with this one, through forests and mires, and their knowledge of magic was great.

In my time, two of their kingdoms stood as grand over the others. They were led by twin brothers of the same name. The Quel'Danas realms were properous kingdoms of high magical deeds, mirrors of each others. One such realm was in the neverending sunrise (eastern) forests (the dales? Myth Drannor?), the other was along the great sunset sea ( west, the sea of swords). The twins traveled and experimented through this world and others, until the day they released beast of untold power from a locked distant and twisted world (the farrealm? the elemental chaos?). The beast devastated the lands and the twins fought it. It was slain, but one brother died. And that was the beginning... So great was the brothers tie that the dead Quel'Danas refused to pass away and he rose back from the ashes of the cataclyms that had killed him. Death had claimed his mind though and with his resurrection, Quel'Danas of the Sunset sea discovered mastery over death and the undead, binding his essence with a world of tears and shadows (could be the shadowfell) .

The two kingdoms soon became opposites and the tie of brotherhood became one of rivality. The coastal cities were abandonned, the moon folks died by hundreds before finding other homes or worlds. And the twin battled for years. The coast was dark with night and crawling with the dead, spreading like an infection accross the world.

This part of Uld almost turned black, if not for the final sacrifice of the living twin...

Fylikiel closed the book. He was puzzled. The writtings in this book were somewhat familiar, yet he did not know who could have deciphered the tome before him. Maybe his father, or an ancestor. How did that book come into his family?

On the trail of the Heroes...

The kruthik came out of the ground and attacked the group of villagers from the back. Luckily, the heroes were all there and Aishar was ready for it. What he was not ready for was the Direguard Deathbringer, a vile undead creature whose sole purpose is to kill. The undead seemed to be giving orders to the insects who attacked ferociously. The battle seemed hopeless when 2 more kruthicks appeared close to the villagers, charging them, trying to bring the bodies back. Acane and Fylikiel combined their efforts to protect the villagers, then turned their focus on the remaining threat: The Direguard. Joe Brandis seemed to shake out of his letargy when he saw his brother fighting valiantly, and he was able to handle 2 of the kruthiks on his own! Victorious, and with very little casualities, they decided to rest.

During that night, Fylikiel and Acane went scouting the coast and located an entrance on the side of a cliff, which could have been used by the Kruthiks.

The following day, they made it to the lighthouse, where they were welcomed by the priestesses and the few remaining guards. Turns out lizardfolks had been attacking them. They were glad to see the fishermen alive, and started working with them to feed everybody. Auburn charged his brother with the task of leading those men, a task Joe accepted as a challenge. Maybe was he still good for something after all.

After a night of rest, on the darkest Midsummer day the Realms have seen in years, our Heroes set forth to the cave entrance they had spotted next to the ambush. Crawling in the narrow tunnel, they descended into a larger passage, deep in the cliff, covered with slimy fungi and puddles of water darkened by the chalky black rocks of the cliff.

Thus starts their hunt for the Kruthik hive. What are they to encounter in the depth of the sword coast, they do not know, for none of them has ever explored the depths of their world...

The Book of Uld

For another night of Watch, Fylikiel looks around him carefully, making sure his companions are asleep and that everything is quiet... then he recites a simple enchantment producing a dim light, illuminating the cover of a leather bound tome. A tome he had in his possession for a very long time.

One of two tomes he has never been able to read. Ever.

The frustration bordering on madness forces him to open it, scrutinize it, analyze it every time he could. The only thing fascinating him more than dark secrets and ancient lores was Magic itself.

But now with the use of newly acquired dweomers, he hoped he could decipher the unintelligible texts of the grimoire. As he finished reciting the last words of his ritual, he set back his eyes on the cover, and for the first time, the glyphs formed words that his mind could interpret...

The Book of Uld, by Yogg'Sar

This grimoire has seen many millennia, yet remains almost unaltered by the ravages of time. The time of writing is thus very hard to determine, but whoever has set eyes on its ancient pages and were able to understand the cryptic words understood that the events detailed in these pages date from an age past, not too far from the Sundering. This book is written almost like a journal, detailing events witnessed or known by Yogg'Sar. Wars, creations, cataclyms and betrayals, little escaped the eye of Yogg'Sar of Uld.

On the trail of the Heroes...

Calixa dead, Hollow Hill keep is now deserted. Our heroes decided to spend the night and tend their wounds in the tower overlooking the keep. They discussed with the elves, asking that they watch over the keep and send words of any activity to Bunyan's Camp, which was the heroes' destination on the next day. The night before they left, Aishar received a very curious visit; the shardar-kai man who had survived their encounter a few days before. The dark man inquired about Aishar's fighting style, a very rare and specific style he had only witnessed in the Shadowfel and in one other location on Faerun, and practiced by specific individuals: The Shades of the Netheril empire. Aishar did not seem impressed by the questions and happily revealed everything he knew. The stranger then left with a promise to meet again.

The next day, their travel to the camp was unenventful, but once at Trollaxe's Lumbercamp, they were greeted by Daggerford patrolmen. Then after detailing the events at the keep to an angry Trollaxe, they were approached by a intriguing man who presented himself Baron Ollen of Daggerford. Apparently a very influencial merchand from the swordcoast who took a very personnal interest in these zombie infestations. He explained the situation: Undead creatures have started roaming about the region between Daggerford and the coast, and they are posing a threat to the locals and travelers. The heroes detailed their travels and reasons they were after these undeads. They told him about the Eladrin they were looking for, the meeting with Stuh Ryback and the implication of the Flaming Fist of Baldur's Gate. The Baron seemed taken aback from all these details, his mind working furiously to get a grasp on the situation...

Finally, the very same day, the heroes left for the fishing camp along the coast. Waiting there, looking over the isolated village, Auburn met someone he thought lost forever: his brother. Having lost everything, his father, his ship, his brother, his arm and his pride, Auburn's older brother had also seemingly lost his sanity. Drunk and dying of the same fever that had taken over Fylikiel, he was almost hopeless, but Auburn did not give up on him. They decided to save these poor fishermen. They brought up the bridge and convinced the people to follow them to Selune's Lighthouse, not far to the north.

So thus, along the swordcoast, our heroes are travelling with the remnant of a dying village, accross lands that are now crawling with the undeath... And as they passed a ravine they heard them... The kruthicks.

Worries in Daggerford

"Adventurers you say?",  questioned Captain Awkins.

"Yes Captain, they left the city 5 days ago, Captain", replied the Sergeant. Formalities were not usually necessary between these two, but the Captain was obviously nervous, so the wise Gate Sergeant judge prudent to stick to protocol.

"Why is that we barely even heard of stray zombies except in kid stories, but when Adventurers come asking for some, then they start roaming about like a bad disease!", added an obviously frustrated Captain.

The last three days have been puzzling for the guards of Daggerford. They had sent scouts on a routine mission after the alarming rumors reported by a few adventurers, and the scout had all come back with good news, except for one who never came back. These adventurers went looking for him, and turned out the poor sod had been killed by goblins. But the same day they got that news from Trollaxe's lumber camp, the first wounded arrived at the gates. Travelling merchants had been ambushed by zombies. AMBUSHED, as if they had been waiting like bandits. Then the same evening, scared farmers came asking protection and refuge in Daggerford from zombies they have seen shambling around in their corn fields.

Then this morning, a patrol of guard came bloodied, with one of them dying, after a patrol along the river in search of these zombies, which they found. Then from the bloody WALLS of the city, the Watch spotted 2 skeletal figures in broad daylight, tripping their way toward the city. 

"Double the guards at dusk, and close the gates at night. Curfew an hour past sunset. Send scouts about to warn the locals. And send fast horses to our various camps along the coast", ordered the Captain to various officers surrounding him. "And find these adventurers. I want to know what this is about". 

He fell silent a second, watching the horizon toward the coast. Miles and miles away a storm was darkening the sky. As he was thinking, all voices fell silent around him. He thought they were waiting for his next order, then the sky darkened slowly. He looked at the officers surrounding him and they were all gawking, staring at the sky like a bloody castle had come floating around.

The Captain turned around and looked up....

To see a bloody Castle, floating in the sky, close to the city.

"By the nine fucking hells, what is that thing?".