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?