Ahead of the Storm - Day 31

Cauldron, Three Months Ago

Ahhh, back in the game again. What a great sense of pleasure it is to actually USE the destructive power I have gained to reek havoc upon real enemies. Politics, to be honest, is not as luxurious as I thought it would be. True, had it not been for my predecessor's tax increase, I never would have had the funds to complete the Arcane Obelisk. Yet even then, with my school well underway and my well trained koa-toa Force Mage guards patrolling the perimeter, there remains a sense of wanting more. As despicable as it is to admit, I’m starting to understand the reasons behind the machinations of tyrants such as Lady Thifirane and Amariss.

That is not to say that I shall ever become a tyrant, rather it is simply an interesting observation.

Through this first success of recovering the Demonomicon, and the priceless epic spells within, that tingle of both danger and power resurfaced as much as it ever has. To finally spend time with two true kindred spirits was like finding a new long forgotten spell. For several days, I was an Outsider all over again, but with two companions who were true Outsiders as well. Without that walking frying pan of a warped warforged, I felt like the spotlight in battle would finally be upon me. And then Eadfrid and Soulerio began showing off their shear might, which made me reconsider my initial want. The sensation of an equal parts team was something I never thought I longed for more. It was as though Eadfrid, Soulerio, and myself were a single unit instead of only two of us being simply support, just in case the juggernaught before us could not handle himself. Indeed, I am still bitter over that. It was, in part, for that reason I had adopted the guise of Jak and even Renegade. As I read what I wrote, I think how schizophrenic that must have been for observers. It was a conscious wanting to disengage from the wagon of the Outsiders as the third wheel. I believe this is also why Eadfrid adopted his guise of Mr. X as well.

I think I have come to know Eadfrid more in this past mission, than I did in the months of the planar junction disaster. I have seen a more human side to him then ever before. He may be a rotting, walking, corpse, yet his mind shines as bright as the mirror he had created to deflect the suns rays upon the Pelor temple. There is more innocence behind his bandages, than you will ever find in even the newborn of a Celestial Deity. Though his wanting of a world of mummies strangely differs little from the Worm God's design for a world filled with Kyuss Spawn, Eadfrid believes in the good of all; that it is actually possible. And in that, he is sadly wrong.

Or perhaps it I who is naive, as I remember well Adimarchus and Nephilim, and their quest for rebirth to the higher planes of Celestia where even I might not be granted passage to. Odd that I have yet to even attempt to do so.

With Soulerio, there lies the shadow that is me. Even as far as a favored of Vecna. He is like a brother, with many of the same goals, many similar pitfalls. He and I both share an interest in Necromancy, power, and self-preservation. He too, was an outcast from his adventuring mates, using his time away to research his own agenda. And while the books of law have pardoned him for his wrong doing into the affairs of the Shadow Junction, he was an unwitting pawn in a wolf's embrace, as I was with Orbius. Like myself, his demons are still out there to haunt him. I have tried and, I believe, succeeded in befriending him. He seems to understand what I have gone through, as I too empathize with him. True, promoting him high in the ranks of the Obelisk angered some. But Soulerio is so very much like me. Thus it made sense to grant him responsibilities whose outcomes would likely be what I would do. So far, I am very impressed. His knowledge extends to bounds that outreach many of my own, allowing for even greater discoveries for the school. This latest mission for the Demonomicon showed how potent his death spells are, which allowed me to concentrate on the defensive magic for our task force.

Both Eadfrid and Soulerio ultimately have shown me a path that I should have placed more of my efforts towards. With Soulerio aiding in the creation of the negative energy field surrounding a partial cyst to the Plane of Shadow, the proximity has aided us both in discovering a new form of magic. Though we refer to this only as the Words for fear of lust from other powerful cults, it is in fact magic that is completely composed of shadow. These Mysteries, as we have called them, have a both similar and different manipulation of matter. There are no components that need to be purchased or searched for. The component is all around; shadow and darkness. For Eadfrid, his amazing success in the creation of the Amalgamation has given me a front to study these dark secrets, long held close my Vecna, in secure bliss from other religions. My friend was truly thankful as I cast a cause light wounds spell upon him, to show him my intent to join his church, while maintaining a new holy bond to Vecna. And I honestly believe that the Amalgamation is a sign that there can be a great neutral ground where no religion is programmed to fight against other holy brethren. Soulerio brought forth a magical path. While its destination was brought forth by Eadfrid. And to think that all of this came from the decision to help the children from the burning orphanage, rather than let others try their luck at being heroes. With the exception of the simulacrum debacle, I have had quite the streak of grace these days.

Which worries me greatly.

I have seen too much to know that even I do not deserve all that has been handed to me. Every life is balanced on a scale, with the left side of my own currently heavily weighted down to the side of fortune. What possible counterbalance could there be in existence to bring the scale of Verodemocrium Moraztardia to an even level?

Ahead of the Storm - Day 30

Magepoint, Four Months Ago

The biography of Fraz-Urb'Luu, according to the Demonomicon of Iggwilv:

http://www.knights-of-valencia.com/savage/05-frazurbluu.htm

Ahead of the Storm - Day 29

Eberron, Four Months Ago

Am…. I….. Wrong?

I….. hold…. In my hand…. The Slayer of God

Ironic…. That I…. Am now one myself….

Ironic still…. That I used the word iron… In a sentence to describe myself.

My first warforged joke. No one capable around me to laugh.

I still process… the memories… of the fleshlings that were my friends. Now I have others.

Where there was Verodemocrium as my guide; there is now the Lord of Blades.

Where there was Eadfrid, the neraph mummy, as my guardian; there is now Lady Vol, the half-dragon lich.

I… have… validated… their crisis mission.

The complete obliteration of both their races, including my own. A validation of the threats that must be expunged from existence.

Annihilation.

Am… I…. Wrong?

Perhaps I could have asked… Scanning memory banks… Meerthan. Warning! Possible syntax error…

But his answer would have been compromised by pre-existing events and/or allies.

Neither he, nor Eadf… invalid pointer, if/or statement auto-correct. Well perhaps Eadfrid could have given an honest answer.

An answer to the problem. An answer to the truth of a choice. Of how I could have saved Cauldron and its near destruction within the plane of Oerth.

So many people would have retained their life essence that seems oddly made up of 80% water.

So many people would be alive.

And in that statement, lies more irony than I can clench my fist over.

To my left and to my right, I see the face of what I was.

In the reflection of my adamantium plating… I… see… what I’ve become.

And within me, there is nothing.

I am a warforged. I have no emotion. No heart.

No soul?

For the living, there is a paradise waiting for them. I, Xenogear, face only termination when my mechanical gears cease to function.

As do my fellow warforged.

As did my fellow warforged.

My true home of Eberron… Is our only true paradise. By definition of an afterlife, we return from where we began. The idea of a God, to true creation, then back to our creators side. The exception being of course, those who are damned to the fires of the hells.

So many, so very many fires.

It is odd…

Prime directive code 1178, is a function within my electrical cortex that states that I am to serve and protect.

Secondary directive 4452, function 12-3 states that I am to create and destroy.

Data cross-program analysis: In Oerth, I destroyed life to protect life. In Eberron, I create life to protect life. In Oerth, I served the people. In Eberron, people destroy what I create.

In Oerth, I was an Outsider.

In Eberron, I am a Warforged.

When I stopped the planar junction and defeated Adimarchus, I knew my purpose was at an end. There was no catastrophe left for Xenogear to stop. All that remained was the final preparations for my greatest creation.

And the forging of the Cord of course.

Verodemocrium would be amazed that this last mentioned item was inspired by his favorite spell.

Compare if = then: analysis correct. Eadfrid always was smarter than that spellcaster, having long ago realized the weakness of the flesh.

Flesh that is so mush easier to pierce than forged mylar dragonsteel.

Too easy?

I am asking too many question of myself.

Sometimes it is as though Nephilim…

No, she is gone, forever….

There are many cancers to exterminate from the heaven for the warforged race.

Scanning… Complete. Small group nearing vital establishment. Threat assessment: mediocre.

Cross referencing efficient counter solutions. Sector 7 army must hold position completely.

Option 2, success rate 100%. One unit; me. Time… two minutes upon first contact for victory.

Checking system upgrades… complete. Departure time requirement… four days.

System test target… Sigilstar. Casualties: 1,546,345. Make sure to send cleanup warscouts to bring bodies to blood drain factory for use in reformulated semi-organic oil for use in warforged titans.

I am Xenogear…

I am… a Slayer… of… Gods.

And all fleshlings will die by my hand.

DM Thoughts - Session 02

And so it has happened at last - the first Savage Tide has struck the world, consuming in its energy the city of Thanaclan. Yet while the cataclysmic event was directly triggered by the new Dragon Shaman, Bakura, its true origin clearly lay - as the Shaman himself pointed out - in some form of sabotage.

It seemed they had angered someone, and retaliation had been swift and incredibly effective.

As DM, this was the event that the pre-campaign was designed for. Nothing could give the players a better sense of the terror and disaster that would surround another Savage Tide explosion, say in the city of Cauldron, Sasserine or Greyhawk... than to actually experience as characters what the terrible results of the first Tide had been for those around to suffer its power.

Having this event described to the players through the use of an NPC flashback or some such thing, seemed a waste of its potential - especially with the associated events that immediately followed it being particularly heroic and memorable as well.

So I figured that I would place the party into a pre-campaign that would put them front and center for the first Savage Tide explosion, not only as witnesses, but indirect causes of it too (though not through their own mistakes - there would be no reason for them to suspect the attack).

I therefore decided that such a story would fit perfectly into a four-session framework:

1 - The Setup: Players get to know life on the island, before any of the bad stuff happens.
2 - The Disaster: Players are there to witness the destruction of Thanaclan, barely escaping.
3 - The Investigation: Players do what they can to uncover the plot of what happened.
4 - The Retaliation: Players confront those responsible for the attack and try to exact revenge.

Given what they would face in that fourth retaliation stage, they would have the opportunity to either die a tragic death, which would set up how dangerous the enemy was... OR, they would have a very real possibility of doing some critical damage to that enemy, which would go down in local history as them being the saviors of the island, and the reason why it still exists today, 1500 years later. Either way, it would be a beautiful setup for the real campaign, both making clear the danger involved, and filling in a lot of the backstory in such a way as to make it more real and memorable than a simple flashback would have been.

And so, today marked the mid-way point in that 4-session plan, and I would certainly consider it a complete success.

The end sections of the Trials of the Dragon God proved to be appropriate challenges, in the case of the fight with the Mooncalf, and the survival fight against the Flame Snake in the pit. Then, the "battle" against the ghosts of the seven previous failed dragon shamans proved to be exactly what I was hoping it to be: a way for the players to test out and show off their shiny new artifacts, without too much actual danger involved. All of this went perfectly according to plan, and perhaps even a bit better, in terms of some very cool character development within the group, as the two guardians (Immortal in particular) strove to teach Bakura some lessons in what it took to be a man and a true warrior. All great stuff.

Then came the actual Fire Festival, which ended up being quite fun to play for the final hour of the session, with the newly-anointed Bakura taking charge and getting to do things his way. His Bluff skills suddenly had a chance to be shown off, as he built the town up into a frenzy of bloodlust, seeking out sacrifices of every kind to offer to the Dragon God... creatures of earth, air and water alike... even dozens of poor innocent phanatons! Even the previous dragon shaman was effectively murdered by Bakura, who falsely claimed it the will of the Dragon God that he too be sacrificed. With everyone falling for Bakura's lies, the poor man was to be burnt at the stake during the festival's opening.

Then, after the fun of the preparations was done, we got to experience the moment I'd been waiting for - which I was hoping to get just right, in order to present it as something truly terrifying, which would remain in everyone's mind for the rest of the Savage Tide campaign.

And in my mind, it worked quite well. Just as Bakura ignited the pile of pearls, and one of them began to crackle with green energy and emit an acrid smoke... I cued up that classic horror tune, "Hello Zepp", from the movie Saw... And told the players that the all got the feeling that "something REALLY BAD was about to happen..."

And then did my best to describe the chaos that hit Thanaclan as it was hit with the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb. The three heroes were able to escape with their lives, due to a quick reaction of fleeing the scene as fast as possible. And I believe the players all got the picture, that this was not a good thing, and that if it ever were to happen in a major city in the modern Greyhawk world, thousands and thousands of innocents would surely die.

As though with a snap of the fingers, the stage had been set for the campaign, with the dangers involved now much clearer, and a certain intensity built up as to what this might be leading up to and how it might impact all the characters we've come to know through the story so far.

All in all, great session conclusion - I definitely feel like this pre-campaign has been worthwhile so far. Here's to hoping that the second half of it is just as good!

Session 01: Trials of the Dragon God

The world was changing...

Where once times of peace outnumered those of strife and war, now the people were beginning to see peace and celebration as but a momentary reprieve - a break in the fear and danger they experienced time and time again.

The world was changing...

Some saw the signs all around them as warnings that a great evil was approaching - that omens of disaster were everywhere around them... In the averted Planar Junction, in the war against the Wormgod, in the ressurgence of long-lost artifacts such as the Hand and Eye of Vecna or the Rod of Seven Parts... Even the creation of the Amalgamation was cause for panic in the eyes of some self-proclaimed prophets of the End of Days.

In the eyes of many, everyday life was but the calm ahead of the storm.

The world was changing...

And while the world changed, people began to cling more and more to tradition and the glorification of heroes - those legendary individuals who had averted disaster before... and whom the people were counting on to save them from whatever new evils might spring up.

So it was in the coastal city of Sasserine, where two big causes for celebrations were fast approaching, both of which the people of the city were embracing as signs of hope and optimism in this darkening world.

The first event was to be the wedding of Lavinia Vanderboren and Anzak Guildenstern. She the daughter of wealthy parents, retired adventurers and explorers Verik and Larissa; he the orphaned son of Isaac Guildenstern, the city's most prominent shipbuilder - as well as the twin brother of the newly-crowned Queen Elena of Alhaster.

The wedding was now two weeks away, and the entire town was gossiping about it, and the famous guests it would attract to the city.

Meanwhile, a second event loomed further on the horizon - six months away- and was perhaps cause for even greater anticipation: the first annual Wormfall Festival. In honor of both the Outsiders, champions of Cauldron, and the Harbingers, vanquishers of Kyuss, the Wormfall Festival was to be held in honor of their successes, a celebration of the peace that had now returned to the land.

Indeed, though the world was changing, people were clinging to their traditions and the heroes, trying to keep it from changing too soon...

Yet the change was inevitable, and the tide of change that would soon rise was already gaining its momentum in a location not too distant from Sasserine: an infamous and mysterious island to the south of the city, a couple of months' journey by ship.

This island had been thought lost, shrouded in mystery, for centuries - until being rediscovered by civilization two decades ago. We speak of no less than Thanaclan, the Isle of Dread. First revisited by the famed captain of the Sea Wyvern, ruffian Gabriel Gansworth. Yet his journey there ended in terrifying fashion, as he and his crew braved the dangers of the island's central mesa, where even the Olman natives fear to return. A more successful mission followed, as Verik and Larissa Vanderboren founded the trade colony of Farshore on one of the Isle's periphery island, safe from Thanaclan's true dangers. Yet, despite the colony's successes and steady profit from pearl-hunting, it has also remained terribly dangerous - suffering many losses since its inception.

The Isle of Dread's cursed legacy remained, 1500 years after the great tragedy that had struck down the city of Thanaclan and nearly wiped out the entire Olman population of the island. Few today can recount the story of what happened all those years ago - even to the wisest of Olmans, many details remain shrouded in rumor and speculation.

Yet all agree, that the day Thanaclan fell, coincidentally enough, was also a day of celebration - it was the day of the Festival of Huhueteotl, the Dragon God. And as if a curse from the Gods themselves, none - not even children - were spared from the chaos and torment that washed over the land.

Still, if the Olman people knew who to seek, they could find one who could retell in full the details of those tragic days... for she had been there, and yet still lived today, centuries later. In time, perhaps she could pass along her story to them - if only they could look beyond her disfigured visage... For though she survived it, the Savage Tide had not left her unscathed...

However, her memory did remain, as did the mental picture of those three heroes who came before her so long ago... Bakura, Meleeki and Immortal... Yes, though the three of them may be no longer, Lithira was still one with this world, and through her, their memory lives on...

But it did not begin with her. No, the story of those three began about one week prior, when the Olman clan patriarch, Karta, had the three summoned to his meeting chamber...

And so, let us travel back through the centuries, an entire span of 1500 years...

Back to the city of Thanaclan in its prime...

To tell the story of Bakura, Meleeki and Immortal...

The story of life ahead of the storm...

The story of life before the Tide...

The story of the Trials of the Dragon God...

It was a bright and scorching midsummer day, the hot sun beating down upon all the people of Thanaclan, the Land of the Pearl. For warriors, hunters and laborers alike, the summer heat was nearly unbearable, yet bear it they did, for they knew it to be the Dragon God's way of punishing them for their sins of the past year. The more they did to displease their Dragon God, Huhueteotl, the greater and longer the summer heat was to be. So it was every year, until the day of the Fire Festival, when the town offered up their sacrifices to the Dragon God, begging him for mercy from the scorching rays of the sun. And if their sacrifice, usually in the form of town's chosen Dragon Shaman burning up priceless pearls and other items of value in the Dragon God's name, proved enough - them the heat wave would calm down and grant the people a reprieve... until the following year, in any case.

As for which Dragon Shaman received the honor of conducting the ceremony, tradition held that every year a new young shaman would be granted the chance to prove his worth in a test of manhood - the Trials of the Dragon God. The elder dragon shamans chose who they deemed ready for the Trials, as well as assigning to him two guardians to assist in the tests to come. Then, after a pilgrimage to the throne of the Dragon God, the trials began - with three possible outcomes:

- success, in which the newly-proven Dragon Shaman would return to Thanaclan a hero, and be given the honor of conducting the Fire Festival himself,

- death, in which the two guardians may return to Thanaclan without the young shaman, having perished at some point in the deadly trials,

- or worse of all, failure, in which the young shaman did not perish, but simply failed to complete the trials in the required time - the punishment for which was banishment from the city, a life as an outcast to fend for oneself in the wild of the island, never allowed to return to Thanaclan, nor even be spoken of by those loved ones left behind.

Given the dire possibilities, it was not unheard of for displeased elder Dragon Shamans to occasionally select what they deemed to be an unready young shaman to send into the Trials, expecting death or failure. It was a convenient way of disposing themselves of those they saw as unworthy apprentices.

And so it was that when young Bakura Ilk presented himself to clan patriarch Karta, the elder chief asked him for the second time if he truly believe himself ready. The past seven shamans to undergo the Trials had not returned - a seven-year streak of misfortune that had Karta suspecting a conspiracy among the town's Dragon Shamans to keep sending poor young men to their slaughter, years before they were ready. At age 16, Bakura did not strike Karta as being any more ready for the Trials than those of the past seven years...

Nor did the elder Dragon Shamans' choices of guardians bode well in Karta's eyes, either. To be sure, Meleeki was a fine selection. She was one of the city's most prominent hunters - her and her wolf companion Vaask being very knowledgeable about the island and its secrets, in addition to being highly skilled at the hunt, be it a jungle panther or even a Thunder Lizard. Given these skills, she surely could be of great use to Bakura in the days to come.

Yet the other selection was what frightened Karta - for Immortal's reputation was a dangerous one. The warrior had certainly been successful, to that there was no argument. Whenever justice needed to be applied against one of the outcast tribes on the island's southern coasts, warriors were tasked with putting it to effect. And Immortal had been on many such missions, earning himself the reputation of a true warrior and great survivor. Yet that was what troubled Karta - for whenever Immortal led a band of warriors out on a mission, he was always the only one to return. Despite his own personal successes, to be assigned Immortal as a group member was effectively a death sentence, for whatever reason - it was almost as though the barbaric warrior bore some curse...

And that, couple with his youth, was why Karta asked Bakura one last time if he was sure he was ready to do this. Karta liked the young boy, and did not want the tribe to lose him. In asking again, he was nearly begging Bakura to request more time - another year alone might suffice...

But Bakura said he was ready, and Karta's heart broke... He feared there was nothing more to be done. And so, as the three heroes departed through the city's gates, wolf in tow, Karta whispered to himself a prayer for their safety. Yet as he saw Bakura's mother break down in tears once he was gone, Karta feared that neither he nor the mother would ever see the boy again...

Yet in Bakura's mind, fear was not of prime importance. What mattered most to him was time - for he only had two weeks left before the Fire Festival, in which to complete both his pilgrimage to the throne of the Dragon God, and all of the Trials set before him. Thankfully he had Meleeki as his guide, for she led her allies through paths and shortcuts through the jungle landscape that avoided any sign of danger. Indeed, she laid her path as though in communion with the entirety of the jungle's life, both plant and animal, knowing in her mind exactly where every danger was, and choosing the best way to avoid it and make the fastest possible time to their destination - the throne of Huhueteotl which lay within a marsh on the northern peninsula of the Isle.

At Immortal's request, they made a quick diversion toward the coast, in order to gather a proper sacrifice to lay before the Dragon God when they met him. As the custom in Thanaclan was to sacrifice pearls to him at every year's Fire Festival, the coastline was already full of fishermen, busy setting out their nets and diving deep in search of giant clams. Within each clam, difficult though they were to retrieve from the ocean's depths, lay hope: for either the clam would contain nothing but meat, or - if lucky - might contain one of Thanaclan's famous giant pearls. Making their way to the coast, Immortal and his allies could see a few decent-sized pearls already piled up along the beach - today's catch, thus far.

Seeing the approaching threesome, many of the fishermen took a brief pause from their work to watch the foolish amateurs who had come to try their hand. They recognized the attire of a young dragon shaman on Bakura, and figured that he was the latest fool to be sent out for his Trials. Meleeki they offered more respect - both for her known skill as a hunter (a job the fishermen appreciated) and her physical attractiveness, which was a nice distraction from the hard labor of the day. As for Immortal, he was the brunt of their laughter, for his silly face-paint and odd manner of dress did not at all fit the image of a fisherman, yet he seemed to be the one who wanted to try his hand at finding a pearl.

And their laughter proved valid, for after a couple of dives, Immortal turned up nothing but worthless clam meat for Vaask to feast upon. Meleeki decided to test her own luck with it, since she feared they were beginning to waste precious time. And as she and Immortal spotted another clam worth investigating, they silenced all onlookers by producing from it a pearl of remarkable size - easily overshadowing any of the rest of the day's prizes. For their purposes, it would do perfectly, as a generous gift to the Dragon God, which might pay him proper homage.

Immortal took the pearl upon his shoulders, and the group continued on, still led through safe paths by Meleeki, until the came at last to the marshland where the Dragon God was said to dwell. There, things got eerily quiet as they drew nearer to the marsh's center. Around them, fires hovering in the midst of marshy areas began to increase as they advanced, while all around them, signs of any other life began to diminish - as though no creature dared come too close to the Dragon God himself.

Yet for this mission, they had no choice but to press on, and so the trio mounted up their courage and pressed on, as the fires grew thicker and thicker. At last, believing themselves to be in the center of the marshland that was known as the throne of Huhueteotl, Bakura called out to the Dragon God and asked for an audience. Suddenly, all the fires that surrounded them raged, and began to fly up into the air, converging and uniting in the sky above Bakura and his two guardians. At last, once all the fires were merged, the fiery ball changed into a colossal draconic shape - the physical aspect of the Dragon God.

Before his imposing presence, Bakura and his companions knelt in deferrence, while also presenting their pearl offering. Pleased with it, the Dragon God burnt it to ash with a fiery breath - destroying this product of the sea as a sign of fire's superiority over water. Through all of this, Bakura, Meleeki and Vaask were able to overcome their fear of the powerful presence before them - though Immortal seemed far more frightened. The Dragon God then questioned the visitors about their purpose, and when Bakura identified himself, he spoke to them about the Trials of the Dragon God which they would now have just over a week to complete. [See handout here]

Thanking the Dragon God for his assistance, our heroes set out once more, believing their best path to be one due west, which would take them past the fishing coast, the aranea caves and the mountain slope: the three locations they believed they needed for their quest, which first consisted of collecting three items...

- the tail hand of an ahuizotl
- the spidersilk of an aranea
- the wing of a mooncalf

At the coast, inquiries with the fishermen informed the party that the ahuizotl was a feared creature of the sea, known for attacking pearl-divers foolish enough to venture down alone. It was because of the creature that nowadays, divers tried to stick in groups of 3 or more, whenever possible. Bakura said not to worry, that the power of the Dragon God could crush a creature of water and the sea anyday. At these words, the fishermen entered a panic, fearing that Bakura had just angered the Water Gods... Bidding the party good luck, they rushed off into the jungle, their fishing day now at an end, for fear of the angry waters.

And so, the group tried to lure the ahuizotl into a trap, but sending down a seemingly unarmed and frail Immortal and Bakura, with Meleeki invisible with the help of one of her magical trinkets. The creature soon fell for the bait, and made its move. Attacking with its tail hand as a primary weapon, it attempted to choke both Bakura and Immortal, latching its tail hand around their necks, one after the other. Both times, however, it let go, in order to strike again. And in both of them, the reaction was similar and unexpected - they entered a full panic, attempting to flee the scene as soon as they were released. A few moments later, they were able to regain their senses, but it was enough to keep them from being truly effective in the fight. It was as though they had shared a similar trauma in their youth, and the idea of being held was enough to drive them to terror. Thankfully, Meleeki's cooler head prevailed, and she methodically weakened and crippled the creature with precise arrow shots. At last it was unconscious - drawing her scimitar in a flash, Meleeki sliced off its tail hand. The first task was completed.

Pressing on, as time was of the essence, the trio rushed to their next destination - the aranea caves. There, they met the one mentioned previously, who lives on today and could recount this story to any seeking it: Lithira the elder aranea. Asked for some of her spidersilk, she claimed to be willing to part with some, in exchange for some "entertainment" for her and her children. The party was offered a choice: eight lesser spiders, or the single greatest one there? It would be a non-lethal fight, purely for sport. Should the heroes prevail, the silk was theirs...

Discussing the matter, the Olmans chose to fight the single opponent, however strong it may be. Tactically, it should be a simpler fight, one they could apply more strategy to. And so they readied themselves, deciding that Bakura would be in charge of distracting the beast, while Meleeki and Immortal hit it with everything they had. Yet, this tactic proved dangerous, as with a single bite, Bakura was infused with a massive dose of highly toxic spider venom. He tried to fight off its effects, without hope - the venom was too potent... and Bakura soon found himself robbed of nearly all the strength in his body. Forced to fall back or risk passing out from a second shot of venom, Bakura was saved further anguish by a charging Immortal, who unleashed a massive critical strike on the spider, taking advantage of his distraction with Bakura. The slicing falchion cleave one of the colossal-sized spider's legs right off, leaving it off-balance for a moment. It tried to right itself, but another strike by Immortal, combined with piercing shots from Meleeki, were enough to render it unconscious, yet still alive - sticking to their agreement of non-lethal combat. As Lithira approached to heal her favored child, she gave recognition for the heroes' skill, and gave them the promised bundle of silk.

And so the three advanced toward their next destination. Finding the patch of lotus flowers which marked the needed location, they scanned the region and found the perch where the mooncalf was likely to arrive come nightfall.

Seven days remained to complete the Trials. Thus far, success has been achieved thanks to Bakura's two guardians, Meleeki and Immortal. Yet Bakura knew that after the mooncalf, the next Trial would require him to fight alone. Still nearly crippled by the spider venom within his blood, the young boy feared what may lay ahead for him. He could only pray that the Dragon God would watch over him in this, his time of need.

Little did he know that his success would grant him a front-row seat for the destruction of his entire civilization...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 28

Sasserine, Four Months Ago

THE JOURNAL OF LARISSA VANDERBOREN
The Ecology of the Isle of Dread

Physiology of the Greenvise
19th of Goodmonth, 578 CY

Today I came upon a clearing where is seemed a herd of dinosaurs (or Thunder Lizards, as the Olman natives call them) had recently stampeded. The footprints were massive and the devastation to the area immense - likely caused by a herd of diplodocuses or other large herbivores. There were no signs of an attacker's footprints, leading me to believe that the panic's source had come from the sky.

As I was studying the ruined landscape, I discovered a large plant, a greenvise once nearly 15 feet tall, fatally trampled into the ground. Its still huge, flytraplike mouths twiched violently - seemingly hungry even in death - and spasms ran down the length of its main stalk, causing the plant's tendrils to flutter and make a sound like someone shaking a tree.

About halfway down the stalk that served as the greenvise's throat, a pulsing bulge appeared to be the source of the plant's post-death contractions. Whatever was inside the carnivorous weed was still alive, struggling to escape. When I sliced open the stalk to try to free whatever was trapped within, I encountered some resistance - the greenvise's thick stem proving tougher to carve than a ripe melon. Viscous froth spewed from the incision, and oozed its way to the ground, reminding me of the saliva of a fleshy creature - except that this reeked of sap.

Lining the inside of the stalk ran rows of dense thorns protruding down toward the plant's gut, arrayed in such a fashion as to prevent captured prey from escaping back up to the maw. I could see a sizable frog peering up at me through the thorns, desperately trying to push past the barbs to reach the opening I had created. I spoke to it in an attempt to calm it, but the traumatized thing was fully intent on escape. The frog must have kicked one of the rooty organs that once guided the greenvise's locomotion, for one of the plant's tendrils convulsed, knocking me off my feet and pinning me to the ground.

Struggling to free myself, I heard the flap of powerful wings and stilled myself at the sight of a pair of wyverns scouring the carnage. These creatures were likely the culprits behind the stampede, returning to pick over the devastation. Instinctively, I shifted myself into a small snake and slowly slithered away from the remains of the man-eating bush, seeking a hiding place where I could wait for the predators to depart. Behind me, I heard the lesser dragons tearing into the greenvise, not discriminating between frog and plant. At least the poor creature did not suffer long.

Aranea Habitat
15th of Harvester, 578 CY

I cannot put to words the sense of grief and guilt that consumes me. By now, Hatoi is surely dead, a victim of an unspeakable fate I unwittingly had a hand in weaving. If only I had heeded his warnings, he would still be here with me as I write this. For the thousandth time I ask why I ignored him, foolishly venturing into a darkened hollow in the eastern jungle where I noticed even the thunder lizards feared to tread. There, my curiosity cost me and my friend dearly.

As we entered the vale, made eternally dark by the dense jungle canopy, I immediately felt something was watching us. At first, I shrugged it off as nerves, but it became increasingly difficult to keep Hatoi calm. When he suddenly stopped and started hissing, staring intently into the darkness, I halted in deference to his keener senses. It was then that I became aware that we had been walking beneath a floating mass of spider webs strung through the trees above. Disgusting corpse husks dangled from the rope-thick strands like macabre Midwinter ornaments. Yet, even more terrifyingly, something had purposefully positioned the carcasses, forming rotting shelters as sickening as they were crude.

All of the hairs on my body stood on end when I caught a glimpse of movement. Praying for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I could barely see them: giant, horrifying spiders slowly decending from their webs, seemingly hovering in mid-air and gesturing with their front appendages - disgustingly elongated arms with multi-knuckled hands. Although I had never seen one, I took these creatures for aranea - rare and rumored spiderlike beings storied to carry ill-mannered children off to their evil forest kingdom.

I didn't have the opportunity to look closer or attempt to speak to the creatures as the surrounding jungle suddenly came alive with indistinct, sinister shadows and the sounds of slinking things. Despite the activity, I could sense nothing other than Hatoi, the spider things, and myself. Even now, I don't know if something was actually there, or if those images and noises were mere figments meant to drive us to some deadlier trap.

Regardless, and overwhelming need to flee consumed me, and I prayed to Ehlonna to steel my nerve. I don't know what came over poor Hatoi, though, because he bolted, heading deeper into the hollow as if charging one of the spiders, a terrified by determined look on his face. I can't help but wonder if he was trying to defend me. I had scarcely a moment to call out before I saw his peril, each bound into the undergrowth covering him more and more in thick strands of webbing, ghostly ropes slipping around him like wet nooses. The sounds of him calling out to me as he was hefted into the silken nightmare above still ring in my ears, and through my own screams I thought I heard a chittering arachnid laughter that will ever torture my nightmares.

Conclusion
1st of Sunsebb, 578 CY

Some time has passed since I left Farshore and - in light of the recent tragedy - this is likely to be my last entry. When we return to Sasserine, I shall deposit the bulk of this work into the family vault for safekeeping until such a time that I can organize my notes and publish a full dissertation of the island's ecosystem. Whatever final form my observations take, though, I plan to dedicate the work to those souls who lost their lives in that unforgiving land. I hope their sacrifices might serve as a warning of the savage nature and primal ferocity that epitomizes the aptly named Isle of Dread.

THE END

Larissa shuddered, recalling the fear that had spawned that final paragraph - that fear that hung with her still on dark nights, recalling some of the greater horrors and tragedies she had witnessed on the Isle of Dread. Fifteen years ago that had been, and she had returned since, furthering her studies and learning even more about the Isle - though never pressing her luck beyond the warnings of the Olman clans, to never approach the island's central mesa, where long ago dwelled the city of Thanaclan, before the great disaster smote it down, leaving only few survivors and putting a curse upon the island that remains to this day.

At times, Larissa wondered if she was making the right decision in passing on the Blue Nixie to Lavinia and Anzak - wondering if they would be fortunate enough to survive the Isle, much as she had. Perhaps she was tempting fate by offering her own daughter to the Isle, that place of chaos and fear that had failed (despite many attempts) to claim her own life. Verik certainly thought it a dangerous idea, though in the end he had been convinced.

I can only pray to Ehlonna and Fharlangn that the day will never come when I regret this decision. After the loss of Hatoi, the fear of a similar fate is hard to shake off...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 27

Magepoint, Four Months Ago

The biography of Demogorgon, according to the Demonomicon of Iggwilv:

http://www.knights-of-valencia.com/savage/04-demogorgon.htm

Ahead of the Storm - Day 26

Sasserine, Four Months Ago

THE JOURNAL OF LARISSA VANDERBOREN
The Ecology of the Isle of Dread

Tyrannosaurus Rex!
22nd of Reaping, 578 CY

In gathering data for my documentation of the island's food chains, Hatoi and I witnessed a tyrannosaur consume a lesser theropod in the northeastern grasslands. The prey was too small to sate the giant beast's hunger, and once it caught our scent and spotted us, it charged - frighteningly fast for a creature of such size. Terrified, and against all instinct, I held my ground, knowing that fleeing would certainly be my last act.

I attempted to speak to it to try to calm the massive beast, but it ignored me, slowing its advance only slightly. My heart pounding, I redoubled my efforts and the rex came to a reluctant halt. I have heard tales of druids who consort with these beasts, but that seemed a dangerous proposition. Verik would surely scold me if he knew I had even attempted it.

The titan lowered its head to sniff me with one great nostril, its scimitar-sized teeth scant inches away. Fascinated, I reached out a trembling hand to touch it, and just then, Hatoi jumped from his tree and landed squarely on the top of the tyrant's skull. I yelled at him to stop, but it was too late. The tyrannosaur raised its mighty head and let out a deafening roar. It began thrashing and spinning its body to shake off the small nuisance, snapping its great jaws in anticipation of the morsel. As Hatoi raised his spear, I cried out to prevent what was to occur, but too late. He plunged his spear deep into one of the tyrannosaur's eyes, blinding the giant and sending it into an uncontrollable rage. Between roars, it swung its tail wildly while clawing impotently at its face, unable to remove the tiny spear.

The last I saw of the rex, it was bullying its way into the jungle to the west, splintering the innocent trees as it ran. The sound of its flight turned to sounds of intense struggle, the trees began shaking violently and a shocked reptilian roar reverberated through the jungle. Reappearing from the undergrowth, Hatoi began frantically waving his hands as if warding off some perceived evil. When the tyrannosaur abruptly became quiet, chocked off in mid-roar, and the tops of the trees stopped moving, wide-eyed Hatoi started making loud, agitated ticking sounds. He wanted very desperately to leave the area, pulling my hand to lead me away from the mysterious and disturbing sounds.

Not questioning my native guide's obvious urgency, we quickly journeyed back to the village. Later, when I asked, Hatoi refused to speak of his actions, becoming frightened and emotional. For the first time, I've come to realize the phanaton is keeping certain truths pertaining to the isle a secret from me.

Ecology of the Masher
5th of Goodmonth, 578 CY

My interactions with the natives are beginning to bear fruit, as they have begun trading with Farshore, eager to exchange pearls harvested from clams that live around the coral reefs of the island. Following rumors of huge pearls, we've bartered two canoes with the fishermen of Burowao, the easternmost peninsula village, in exchange for guides to lead a Farshore expedition to a reef where they claim giant clams make their homes. I went along with the explorers to investigate the reports of such giant mollusks and learn more about the isle's aquatic inhabitants.

We anchored at a reef off the northeastern shores of the island. Our guides spoke of monstrous, territorial eels that feed on the coral there - a trait that has since earned them the name "mashers." With the help of the fishermen, we devised a strategy for stealing the pearls from their homes.

Approaching the reef in outriggers, we maneuvered into the shallow water over the reef - less than 2 feet deep - and disembarked. Walking on the reef proved difficult - if you weren't careful, you could easily break an ankle. Our mission was to attract the attention of the mashers by dislodging chunks of the reef with long poles, hoping to provoke a feeding frenzy, giving our divers the necessary distraction to gather the pearl-bearing clams.

Within moments of breaking off the first coral chunks the mashers responded. Several sets of the eels' wicked black spines broke from the water, serpentine in their movements as they approached. Some looked to be in excess of 30 feet long, making them more than a match for the aquatic reptiles lurking in these foggy waters. As the monstrous eels gained speed, I realized their intentions and began yelling for my comrades to retreat. The mashers' skulls bear thick growths of bone, with which they began relentlessly ramming the reef, sending jarring shockwaves through it, knocking us from our feet. A great schism opened in the coral we stood on, and the solid surface beneath us was suddenly gone, sunk into the lower underwater mazes, leaving us treading water that was now deep enough for the mashers to navigate. Two of our men who chose to swim to the canoe are no longer with us. One moment they were there and the next they were simply gone, nothing marking their presence other than a cloud of turbulent bubbles of blood.

As we emerged onto the standing reef, I noticed one of the native's arms hanging limp at his side, quickly turning black - he had brushed against one of the poisonous spines on the mashers' backs. Cursing myself for lacking the vital spell, I tried to treat the poison but was unsuccessful - the black discoloration quickly spread to the rest of his body, coursing across his skin. He began shivering and babbling incoherently with dementia. Finally going into shock, fits of vomiting and convulsions took over. When his eyes bulged, I knew it was too late, for inflammation of the brain is fatal. The poison had killed him within moments.

We had suffered three fatalities and our divers managed to bring up only four normal pearls from the depths. Appalled, Verik has decided that further risk outweighs the value of the still-rumored giant pearls and has forbidden all future diving expeditions. I wonder how long it will be until greed wins out over reason...

To be continued...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 25

Magepoint, Four Months Ago

The biography of Dagon, according to the Demonomicon of Iggwilv:

http://www.knights-of-valencia.com/savage/03-dagon.htm

DM Thoughts - Session 01

Hey there everone!

The campaign is officially underway, after sixteen long months of preparation.

However, for those of you who have already begun your own Savage Tide campaigns, it may not seem like the campaign you are familiar with. Indeed, it might seem as though it's not even connected at all, just yet.

The reason for that is simple - while we have indeed begun the larger "Savage Tide" campaign, what we have specifically started is actually a pre-campaign of my own creation, based on elements of the Savage Tide backstory which I felt would be fun to explore in greater depth.

The pre-campaign, tentatively scheduled to last only four weeks or so, takes us to the isle of Thanaclan (currently the Isle of Dread), back when it was in its prime, in the days leading up to the tragic events which saw the destruction of the city and nearly wiped out the Olman people. These important events, which are normally only explained through NPC description, midway through the standard Savage Tide campaign, seemed interesting enough to me, that I felt it would be a nice idea to have the players actually experience them through real characters involved in it, rather than just hear about it from someone else. This way, it would be more meaningful to them, and add a great deal of foreshadowing and intensity to the early stages of the campaign that it normally wouldn't have.

However, as you'll see once these weeks of the pre-campaign are over, that isn't the end of my alteration of the storyline. I've also decided to add a bonus chapter to the present-day core of the campaign, which serves largely to bridge the gap between the events of prior stories (Shackled City and Age of Worms) and Savage Tide itself. With the wedding of Lavinia Vanderboren and Anzak Guildenstern at its center, this bonus Chapter One will bring back characters from the past and introduce them to certain characters from the present and future. All of which is expected to pay off much later in the Savage Tide campaign, when its endgame (and adventures beyond even that) will likely see these various sets of heroes united for the first time, to fight a battle greater than anything imagined.

In a way, I feel as though this campaign, as written, is already great. But through these additions and changes - pre-campaign, wedding chapter, post-campaign chapters - I am seeking to make it into something even better. I guess that comes from having sixteen months to prepare for it - you're bound to find certain moments of clarity and inspiration along the way, which can spark ideas you feel could make everything so much better than it already is.

Thus, while those of you who follow these adventures of ours will recognize the real Savage Tide in chapters 2 through 13... I hope you will also come to appreciate and enjoy what we have to offer in the pre-campaign, chapter 1, and chapters 14, 15 and 16. Because while 2 to 13 represent the conclusion of the Shackled City / Age of Worms / Savage Tide trilogy, those extra chapters provide the links which also make it the conclusion of a far greater saga, which began all the way back in Dirge of the Forsaken (see here for details on that one).

In a way, this will be the campaign that reaches back in time and brings ALL of our previous campaigns together. The ending should be epic, gripping, and hopefully something we will never forget - quite likely changing the world of our future D&D games forever.

Do I sound excited about this campaign? You betcha. A pregnancy normally lasts nine months... I've been waiting sixteen for this baby of mine to be born :)

Ahead of the Storm - Day 24

Sasserine, Four Months Ago

Larissa paused her reading for a moment. All these memories of those first days on the Isle of Dread - nearly fifteen years ago now, but feeling as though yesterday. In her heart, she was set on it now - whether Verik liked it or not, she wanted Lavinia and Anzak to have the Blue Nixie and all their sea charts for how to navigate the long journey back to the Isle of Dread. It was an adventure she wanted Lavinia to experience more than anything now - to test herself and discover the inner strength her mother knew she had.

Eagerly, Larissa returned to her reading...

THE ECOLOGY OF THE ISLE OF DREAD
The Journal of Larissa Vanderboren

Ecology of the Phanaton
24th of Wealsun, 578 CY

While wandering the central jungle, stubbornly classifying the island's endless varieties of flora, I caught sight of a strange, diminutive primate. Carrying a spear, it had a satchel slung across its shoulders and appeared to be rummaging for mushrooms on the spongy ground. It hadn't noticed me so I approached for a closer look.

Little more than 2 feet tall, the creature looked like a raccoon, with dark fur around its eyes and ringed stripes on its tail. It also had primate-distinguishing features, such as opposable thumbs and a prehensile tail, but displayed a thin membrane of skin stretched between its front and back legs (later I would observe its use for gliding between trees).

Its eyes suddenly met mine, and for a brief moment, I thought the creature looked inquisitive, but then it started shrieking in a shrill, warbling cry. Almost instantly, more of the creatures came rushing through the bushes and dropping from the trees - too many to count. Before I could act, a primitive net made from vines ensnared me, and the creatures began pummeling me with their clubs and the butt-ends of their spears until I lost consciousness.

I awoke with my hands tied behind my back, lying on a wooden platform supported by the boughs of an ancient deklo tree. I could sense that I was high up in the jungle canopy, and I noticed my provisions and research notes dumped out next to me. As I looked around, I could see more platforms in the surrounding trees, connected by treacherous-looking bridges made of knotted vines and strewn with simple wooden huts. These creatures had built an entire village among the trees. Scores of the small creatures watched from nearby platforms, through tiny hut windows, and from the foliage of branches above, spying on me curiously as I came to my senses.

As I composed myself, one of the tiny creatures, their leader by the look of his unique, brightly feathered adornments, approached me and untied my hands. He shocked me by speaking a crude sort of Sylvan - distinguishable phrases interspersed with soft hoots and odd clicks of the tongue. He apologized for the inconvenience and explained that I had surprised a group of his people while they gathered medicinal herbs from the forest floor below. He had looked through my journal, discovered my druidic beliefs, and was very apologetic for the misunderstanding. He invited me to a village feast and the following grooming session that evening as a token of their good will.

I stayed with the creatures - who I came to know as phanatons - for three days thereafter, learning of their society and culture. When I left, the one that I had spied on the jungle floor, named Hatoi, offered to join me as a guide - a sort of peace offering from these creatures. At first, Hatoi was shy, but with time I began to connect with him by letting him look at my journal. He is fond of my sketches, particularly of the island's plant life, and he will no doubt prove invaluable in classifying the jungle flora.

The Effects of Loco Weed
7th of Richfest, 578 CY

For the past severel days, I've been observing a herd of ankylosaurs that graze near an inland lake in the northwestern reaches of the isle. Within this group, one male in particular has been exhibiting very curious behavior, of hostile and unsocial bearing. I've come to blame this comportment on his consumption of a toxic weed that grows in patches along the lake's eastern banks.

Several minutes after eating the weed, the ankylosaur begins taking short, shallow breaths, and seems a bit unsteady on his feet. Once the drug fully takes hold, he exhibits an increased blood flow - evidenced by his overall pinkish hue - and begins to drool. Other effects of the plant are rapid eye movement, loss of balance, occasional vomiting, and highly aggressive behavior.

The amount of weed consumed has a proportional effect on the ankylosaur's belligerence. On a normal day, he eats only a small quantity - enough to become easily agitated. The rest of the herd has learned to avoid him during these episodes, as he swings his tail at anything that approaches. Even when docile and not under the influence of the plant, the herd and other local herbivores give him plenty of space, not wishing to incur his wrath. A bruised shin is apparently enough to make even the largest diplodocus wary of him.

Larger meals of the plant have a more powerful effect on the giant reptile, causing him to become extremely aggressive and attack anything he sees. His depth perception seems altered during these episodes, as yesterday I observed him charging into the jungle only to run headlong into a tree trunk. He became so enraged that he smashed down nearly thirty trees before disappearing into the jungle.

After about two hours, the drug begins to wear off. The specimen exhibits loss of hunger, lethargy, and impotent irritability; usually collapsing wherever he finds himself after the plant's effects have run their course. Once he is fast asleep, the herd resumes its daily grazing.

The ankylosaur shows signs of physical addiction to the plant, refusing to let any members of his herd near a patch. When he can't find sources of the weed, he goes through stages of extreme depression, although social rejection might account for this behavior, as he is an outcast among the group.

When I asked the Panitube natives about the weed, they smiled and laughed to themselves as if privy to some private joke, which I take to mean that they are indeed familiar with it. I overheard one of them call it "cualoco zacatl," which roughly translates from Olman to "angry grass." The few natives who speak the trade tongue, however, have made a broken translation, calling it "loco weed."

Territorial Behavior of Terror Birds
10th of Reaping, 578 CY

Concerning the flock of terror birds that I have been studying near the isle's eastern peninsula, today I witnessed a pack of males force a dimetrodon away from its kill. The creature had wandered into the high grasses of the flock's territory and brought down a giant scorpion, an easy catch with little signs of struggle. This was soon to change, though, for the terror bird scavengers can be very persistent when it comes to robbing meals.

The tall birds slowly encircled the predator, assessing the situation. At first, the dimetrodon seemed indifferent to their presence, continuing to eat while only occasionally snapping at birds that got too close. As the flightless avians gained confidence, they began flaunting - rising up to their full height and fluffing their head plumes. They strutted back and forth, low resonating grunts emanating from deep within their chests. When their displays failed to intimidate the feeding predator, some of them began turning their hindquarters toward it and kicking dirt into its face. This immediately garnered the reptile's full attention.

Unwilling to give up its kill, the dimetrodon flushed the sail on its back, bared its teeth, and began bellowing at its attackers. This show of force came too late, though, as the birds had worked themselves into a frenzy. The flanking terror birds nipped at its tail, hitting and running, much to their target's frustration. While doing little harm, it made the dimetrodon spin around to snap at them. Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, the other birds rushed in for quick strikes, butting and quickly biting with their powerful beaks. At one point, the dimetrodon actually staggered to keep its balance. Finally having had enough, the giant lizard abandoned its meal and fled at a waddling gait. The birds gave pursuit, screeching as they drove the creature from their territory. Once the threat of the predator was gone, they dragged the half-eaten scorpion back to the waiting chicks and females of their flock.

In other parts of the Flanaess, these flightless birds are top predators of their habitats, but her they are clearly bottom-feeding scavengers. If it were not for their strength of numbers, they would certainly be ill-equipped at defending their nests and might have long ago disappeared from the island. They have adapted quite well to their situation and exhibit a remarkable ability to drive off most predators that threaten their nesting grounds.

To be continued...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 23

Sasserine, Four Months Ago

As Lavinia's wedding day approaches, I find myself feeling quite ashamed of my husband Verik's behaviour. I myself couldn't be prouder of our daughter's choice. Anzak might have been troubled in his youth, but I'm proud of what I see in him these days. I know he's a good man, who's been through a lot in his life. He's now commited to starting a new life for himself with Lavinia, and together building a happy future.

Yet all Verik sees when he looks at Anzak is trouble... because he's afraid that the day is soon coming when Lavinia can no longer be protected and sheltered from the world, the way he's always kept her. That she'll become independent and strong... like me.

Oh how I recall those days in our youth, when we were brave adventurers exploring the frontiers of the world. I'll never forget the day that the Seekers Guild selected the two of us to lead their mission to explore the Isle of Dread... Having heard rumors of its location and the terrible dangers that lurked there - but also rumors of the treasures there for the claiming. Most notably those precious things that gave the Isle its original name: Thanaclan, Land of the Pearl.

Thus we departed with our meager fleet... three caravels led by the two of us - a husband-and-wife team of Swashbuckler and Druid. Despite my protests, Verik made sure that the children - Lavinia and barely-newborn Vanthus - remain here in Sasserine, in case the journey proved too dangerous. Though I was saddened to leave them, I knew this mission was one we were perfectly suited for, and the opportunity to prove ourselves within the Seekers was a once-in-a-lifetime deal as well.

And after months of sailing, lost at sea once or twice, nearly conquered by storms on occasion as well, we finally came to rest at the location of our quest: the Isle of Dread that had been surrounded in mystery for centuries... ever since the unknown disaster that wiped out the legendary Olman village of Thanaclan, leaving on the Isle only those scattered tribes of Olmans that exist today, descendents of those lucky few who survived the tragedy.

Yet our mission being foremost one of caution, we made landfall not on the Isle itself, but one of smaller islands on its southeastern periphery. And it was there that we established the colony of Farshore, and made first tentative contact with the Olman clans the dwelled nearby. Those first few months were such an incredible experience, the one time in my life that I truly felt free, at one with that druidic calling that had always lain in my soul. Yet, standing there on the edge of the Isle of Dread's majestic landscape was not enough to ease my stirred excitement, and so I pleaded day after day for Verik to let me explore the mainland, while he remained in the colony doing what he did best, leading the people and building it up into what he dreamed it could be.

By then the pearl-collecting endeavors were already well underway, and generating a wealth beyond our dreams. We'd received word from the Seekers that we were to have free reign in building up the colony as we saw fit, keeping for ourselves a more-than-generous portion of the newfound wealth. Verik's dreams were coming true, so I begged of him to let me fulfill mine, of exploring the main island of legend, chronicling all I found within my journal - both as a ressource to the Seekers, and to soothe my own undying curiosity and pull towards nature.

Finally, he relented. I'll never forget the joy I felt that day. And what lay ahead of me in the days to come was such a mystical and spiritual journey.

Looking back at the journal I kept from those days, it's as though it were only yesterday... I do believe I'll pass these journals on to Lavinia someday soon, for her to experience herself. I've already begun pushing Verik toward giving the Blue Nixie over to her and Anzak as part of their wedding gift, so that they can experience the joys of the world for themselves, just as we once did. If they're brave enough for the journey, maybe they could even spend their honeymoon over the next year or so, out in Farshore itself. The colony is running strong these days, I hear - and while Verik is now too tired to make that journey anytime soon, perhaps it's fitting that we pass it on to our eldest child and her new husband? Both of them would surely love all the majesty and beauty that the the once-great Thanaclan has to offer...

Ah, here it is - my journal entries for that first exploration of the Isle... Such a journey back in time, to that happiest time of my life...

THE ECOLOGY OF THE ISLE OF DREAD
The Journal of Larissa Vanderboren

Today I leave the safety of the colony for the village of Taranoa. We've been here for several months on the Isle of Temute, establishing the Farshore colony and attempting relations with the local Olman villages. While these proceedings are important for our family's - and, indeed, all of Sasserine's - designs on these farflung shores, I find them rather tiresome. Thus, I've convinced my husband Verik, who leads the expedition, of the value in exploring and documenting the mainland of this, the Isle of Dread. While obviously concerned for my safety, he knows that my magic and experience as an adventurer will keep me from harm.

Within the Fangs of Zotzilaha
6th of Wealsun, 578 CY

I have returned from a journey with the Taranoan natives to the volcano Nextepeua, one of the twin volcanoes known as the Fangs of Zotzilaha. The Taranoans make annual pilgrimages to offer appeasements to their bat-god Camazotz. I had agreed to the trip to display our good intentions to our Olman neighbors, hoping to help Verik's goal of establishing mutual trade with them.

The Fangs are an imposing sight, rising up to dizzying heights and dwarfing the scenery around them. From their heights billow pillars of black, acrid smoke visible for many miles, polluting the air with ash and debris. Muffled rumbles growl from deep beneath the peaks, suggesting the incredible activity of the world's bowels. The fields surrounding the Fangs steam with slag and knee-deep ash, while the grounds closer to the peaks are riddled with lava tubes. Some evidence of flowing magma colliding with underground water exists, as poisonous gas belches from deep vents and fissures. It's no wonder the natives fear this place - they live under constant threat of an explosive eruption.

The Taranoans explained that we must wait until nightfall, when the volcanoes' sacred baboon guardians retreat to their caves. The baboons - omnivorous and dangerously ravenous - live out a pitiful existence, surviving off sparse vegetation and huddling together around the few pools of stagnant rainwater.

When twilight fell, hordes of great bats swept out from the lava tubes and fissures, blacking out the smoke-clouded sky. I was startled by the creatures' physical size, some with wingspans up to 15 feet. In spite of their mass, they exhibited surprising maneuverability, both in the air and on the ground. The sight of so many of them, a colony several thousand strong, instilled a primal fear within me. Although they drove the baboons hooting back to their caves, the bats ignored us completely, enabling us to approach unchallenged - an event that to the Taranoans, was a sign Camazotz himself had granted safe passage.

Once inside Nextepeua, the shaman leading the pilgrimage began repeating a tribal, rhythmic chant. Whatever incantation he worked upon us proved sufficient, for we withstood the heat emanating from the walls and the occasional blasts of scorching air. The searing volcanic fumes made breathing difficult, even with the cloth masks we used, and the muffled rumbles heard outside were deafening this close to the volcanic core. The smoke and heat waves also made navigation nearly impossible. I would have surely been lost within those hellish depths forever had not the Taranoans been so familiar with the way, seemingly capable of making the trek without the need for sight.

After what seemed an eternity, we arrived at the Shrine of Camazotz. We hurriedly placed our offerings at a soot-covered carving of a bat in the far wall. Within the shrine I placed a memento my daughter Lavinia had made for me when she was a child, offering something near to my heart as the Taranoans suggested. I am hopeful that through my obeisance I have earned at least a marginal respect from the Olman natives.

To be continued...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 22

Magepoint, Four Months Ago

The biography of Baphomet, according to the Demonomicon of Iggwilv:

http://www.knights-of-valencia.com/savage/02-baphomet.htm

Ahead of the Storm - Day 21

Near Cauldron, Four Months Ago

Why must they still try to de stroy me? I just do not under stand. I have been so nice to the people of Pay lor... I have.

Oh dat reminds me, I should make an f fort next time I'm near an Amalgamation temple to talk and let the Faiths know that united we stand a bet ter chance against the growing evils. They like to hear me talk, because I am so old and wise. I do not know why no one thought of it before. It is like the Outsiders, how we are really diff rant but we work as one to finish the job and help so many people.

Good thing Soul aero and his Har binger friends worked as one and were able to de stroy that evil God a few months back. I was busy with hunting those es caped demo dans. Many people died during those undead attacks, giving us undead a bad name. Though I do not think I myself could have stopped a creature such as Ky uss, I did have a back up plan to save everyone. May be next time the lands are in dan ger, I can suggest turning every one into mummies like me.

I rem ember offering Scatter spells to be a mummy like me. Yes, the good old days when it was him and me and Ze no gear. I wonder where Ze no gear is. I have not seen or heard from him since last time in Sass erin. I hope he is ok like Scatter spells is. Oh I in joyed working with him again a few weeks ago. I was sur prised to see Soul aero there with him, but since they work to gether I guess dat makes sense. Going for a demon book was not as fun as me hunting actual demons though. I like to see the look of fear on there faces when I say hello to them. Demons do not really be long here, except for Scatter spells of course. But it was nice being wanted, since my undead nature pro tected me from alot of the bad spells put on dat book. I did not ask why Man zor ran wanted the demon book, but he prob blea would have given me a long speech dat used a lot of big words.

I used the Amalgamation because it was a big word and it made sense. And some people do not think I am smart, like those of Pay lor. I never hurt them and yet they still follow me. Though come to think of it I have not been fall owed as much as before. Maybe my Mr. X disguise is finally working. Oh yes, no one knows me as Mr. X... well except for the people of Cauldron... and Sass erin... oh and I think da Har bingers.

I do not like Pel gry. I have heard rumors dat she wants to hurt me! I think she can too, so I do not think I will go near her new town of rising sun... or was that sunset?

Well since there is not many demons left, hunting undead is a nice change. They still hide and hurt the people but then I show up and they can not hurt me. I try to talk to them to join my cause and be good like me and Garekk, but all they do is fight and not talk.

I think I should go to Man zor ran's to see how Garekk is doing. I think I should take some time off and help him rem ember who or what he was before being turned into a mummy.

There is just so many things to do, and so many people to see. A shame they are not dead like me, I have all the time in the world.

Ahead of the Storm - Day 20

Magepoint, Five Months Ago

The biography of Adimarchus, according to the Demonomicon of Iggwilv:

http://www.knights-of-valencia.com/savage/01-adimarchus.htm

Ahead of the Storm - Day 19

Cauldron, Five Months Ago

Word has come to me that the task force of Scatterspells, Soulerio and Eadfrid was successful in their recovery of the Demonomicon, and that Manzorian now has it in his possession, in the positive-energy room that we prepared for the purpose of containing whatever dark energy it possessed. Thus, tomorrow I will depart from Cauldron for the next several months, during which time Manzorian and myself will make full study of the book's contents, learning and compiling all that we can about the 17 Demon Lords which so obsessed Orbius - and which now threaten to obsess us.

I can't say that I will miss this city much... A lot has changed since the days when Fario and Fellian were my two closest associates, running the rooftops to spy on suspects and gather information for the Striders. Back then, our biggest threats in town were the Last Laugh and underground goblin smugglers. Then the kidnappings started, and it all began to unravel.

Now Fario and Fellian are dead, casualties of our town's war against the demodands. Shensen has quit working for the Striders, and eventually left Cauldron behind as well. Rumor has it that she's gone to investigate the Shadow Realm that emanates from Diamond Lake. As for our old enemies... these days the Last Laugh are still around, doing the bidding of our mayor Verodemocrium, and the goblin smugglers are apparently thinking of starting up their business again, since the town guard is too preoccupied to stop them. It's as though nothing is like it was, and yet nothing's been accomplished, either. As if every victory, be it over the Demodands and Cagewrights, or over the Undead and Kyuss... every victory is but a stalling effort in a greater war which we are destined to lose.

All the signs are certainly there...

Planes rupturing and collapsing onto themselves - be it a Planar Junction over the city or the emergence of the Shadow Realm into our world...

Religions sputtering and uniting into one - the Almagamation that now has the majority of our city brainwashed, and it now starting to spread to other neighbouring regions...

Ancient artifacts resurfacing and being used once more - from the staff Alakast to the Golden Box, from the Eye and Hand of Vecna to the Rod of Seven Parts...

And that's not to speak of these new discoveries about Demon Lords... the 17...

It's as though we are reaching the days of reckoning, what some call the "end of the world"... as though everything is beginning to fall apart, and sooner or later it will all come to a sudden end.

All of this worry plagues me greatly, and certainly can't be good for the health of an old elf such as myself. Yet I can't help but feel it all around me, every waking hour - this fear, growing stronger with every passing second... fear that these seconds are becoming fewer and fewer.

Perhaps that is why I'm now so obsessed with understanding the thoughts and obsessions of this singularly intriguing beholder, Vhalantru. It's as though I know there are no answers for the crumbling of society around me - but I cling nonetheless to the hope that I can make sense of something...

In any case, tomorrow is a new day. I pray that Manzorian and I find success in the coming weeks, in deciphering the dark biographies contained within our new find. If only to distract me from my own sorrows and fears, for a time...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 18

Krestible, Five Months Ago

The three adventurers entered the central building, unaware that one of the seemingly dazed citizens staring at them was not what she seemed, but rather a cleverly-disguised female. She was used to disguises, and though they usually were more visually appealing than this one, most of them felt the same to her - after all, they served the same purpose: to help her get what she wanted, without anyone knowing who "she" really was.

This particular situation was quite a bit more special than those others, however - this time she wasn't so much getting what she wanted, but helping these three individuals get what they wanted. Little did they know that the Demonomicon itself wasn't all that dangerous (except for the power of the spells within it)... The eerie aura about the city, the strange transformation of its citizens, the "trap" placed upon the door so obviously that they would be sure to spot and dispel it... All of these were her own creations, simply to have a bit of fun while she waited for the three to arrive in town. The whole point of this was to give them the Demonomicon, after all - and so long as that happened, who cared if she had a bit of fun with them on the side? She just hoped they were smart enough to have Eadfrid pick up the actual book - she'd gone a bit overboard with the death traps on that one.

Part of her wished she could just give them the book face-to-face, but obviously that wouldn't be possible - it would raise way too many questions and suspicions. Even if wearing a disguise, she might be recognized... Certainly not by Eadfrid (he likely wouldn't know her name if it were tattooed on her forehead), possibly not by Soulerio either... But Scatterspells, she had no doubt he'd eventually be able to see through her disguise. Perhaps not at first, but after a bit of time to think it over. They'd known each other for so long now, after all... And for some reason, Scatterspells still scared her a bit - he always had. That was likely why she had also found him so attractive, something about his dark inner energy, his raw intensity... She almost felt bad about having lied and mislead him for so long. One day, he'd finally learn the truth - maybe then he could forgive her.

Ah!! An explosion - hopefully no serious damage done. It's all for effect, after all - it wouldn't do to actually cause serious harm to any of them - not today, anyway. Oh, and there they are coming out of the building, looking so nervous, almost as if expecting an ambush! How cute... They probably tried to teleport out of the building directly, only to be surprised when it didn't work. Her doing again, of course - she wanted visual confirmation that they had the Demonomicon, so she'd made it so they'd have to exit the building before leaving.

And there the book is, in Soulerio's hand - excellent.

Wait a few moments, another teleport attempt... and poof! They are gone.

Definitely excellent.

The book is now in the right hands, she can only trust that they will follow its trail to its eventual conclusion. She had faith in them, particularly Scatterspells - she knew they'd learn what she wanted them to learn from the book.

And she had to trust that, because she had other business to attend to...

A whole new set of heroes to manipulate and lead along their own destiny...

Who knows, maybe one of them would be as attractive as Scatterspells, too?

The hidden woman smiled a sinister grin, then plane shifted away...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 17

Krestible, Five Months Ago

The chilled, otherwordly air of Krestible crawled over the trio’s skin (even the mummy Eadfrid felt a strange tingle) as they slowly advanced through the city’s main street, trying not to overtly alert or excite the seemingly dazed population of the small town, all of whom seemed beyond help, thoroughly tainted by the aura of the Demonomicon that had laid within the city’s dungeon for roughly two weeks now.

Their destination was clear – the local town barracks / city hall lay at the city’s center, and was quite recognizable for its solid construction, being likely the only building in town which had undergone any kind of renovation within over two decades. Surrounded by dilapidated shacks and rundown tents, the building was striking in its grandeur – as if it were somehow out of place, the building itself an intruder in its own town. This gave Scatterspells pause, as he pondered whether it had always been this way… or had the corrupting effect of the Demonomicon beneath it somehow been responsible? Could it be that it had caused the rapid degeneration of all buildings around it, while sparing its own home? Scatterspells shook off his gaze at the building – its effect was too hypnotizing, perhaps already some form of trap. He warned his comrades to be wary as well.

Finally, though the walk seemed eternal despite it only being a few hundred yards, the trio arrived at the doorstep of the central building. Suddenly, silence filled the air, as even the haunted souls around Soulerio halted their speech. The citizens of Krestible, up until now uttering deep and upsetting moans, were now silent also – and all heads abruptly turned, as though one, in the direction of the building’s front steps, where stood Scatterspells, Soulerio and Eadfrid. It was as though they were suddenly aware of the presence of the three in town, and were watching expectantly, hopefully, awaiting for something to happen.

Unnerved, the trio paused for a moment, then gathered their courage and began attending to the task of opening the front door. Fearing a trap, Soulerio summoned a Morgh to test the door’s defenses. And as feared, the creature was blasted with a wave of dark energy the second he touched the door’s handle. So powerful was it that even his undead immunities did not spare him from most of the damage, and he fell to the ground, convulsing and bubbling, before melting away into the soil. Backing away a few steps, the trio then prepared a Greater Dispel Magic, enhanced by the rarely-used metamagic of the Cooperative Spell. Bolstered by each of their own channelled powers, the Dispel proved powerful enough to not only remove the magic, but cause it to backlash and make the door implode unto itself.

That was one ward down, but who knew how many more they might now face?

Entering slowly, the trio left the watchful eyes of the city behind them, unaware however, that one of those sets of eyes was not what it seemed, and was watching them far more closely than the others…

To be continued...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 16

Krestible, Five Months Ago

The assembled task force agreed that a quick entry and even quicker exit would be the best way to tackle the situation. And each of them knew their roles in the matter quite well: Scatterspells was the team leader, in charge of decision-making, as well as scrying on the target location and the teleportation itself; Soulerio was to put his knowledge of Defense against the Dark Arts to good use, casting defensive magic on the three of them, to protect them from whatever might stand in their path; and Eadfrid was largely there solely because of what he was - undead, and therefore inherently better protected against the likely death and negative energy magic that the Demonomicon was rumored to be protected by.

Yet, despite having prepared themselves for what the likely would find in Krestible, it nevertheless was a shock. For the people who roamed the streets there were certainly no longer anything resembling human. If anything, Scatterspells was best prepared for the sight they all beheld - as the once-human creatures that now roamed the streets, with their flesh sagging and brackish ooze now dripping from eye sockets and hanging jaws, in some ways resembled some of the images he had envisionned of what might happen if the Far Realm opened up onto the Material Plane. These oozing zombies, or whatever you might call them, certainly seemed more otherworldly than any demon or undead any of the three companions had every encountered.

To Soulerio, the beings voices screamed out longingly, with shrieks and wails louder than any the haunted voices that usually surrounded him could voice. And while his two allies couldn't make out their words, to Soulerio the cries were utterly clear - down to the youngest child in town, everyone was crying out to him - begging for death. Yet, as he raised his finger to launch a first Disintegrate spell, Scatterspells advised against it. He wouldn't have enough magic to destroy them all, and choosing some over others might cause them to turn hostile. And so he relented, though in his heart he pities their sad state.

Eadfrid as well did not feel comfortable here, feeling as though they were trespassing on land that had been cursed beyond any other. He feared that should they stay too long, even he might begin to succumb to the influence of the Demonomicon.

Sensing his friends' failing morale - as well as his own - Scatterspells reiterated the urgency of their mission - to find the book quickly, then escape with it fast, bringing it straight to Manzorian, who had prepared a room of Hallowed abjuration magic, which might help contain and weaken the dark aura of the book long enough for him and Meerthan to make proper study of it. Then, once they completed their study of the demons they wished to learn about, they would allow Scatterspells and Soulerio to claim their own reward - studying the epic spells that were also contained within its pages. For in addition to each of the six copies of the Demonomicon containing a full library of knowledge on all the Demon Lords of the Abyss, as compiled by the Witch Queen Iggwilv - rumor held that each copy also contained duplicated pages from Iggwilv's personal spellbook, in which she had noted down the many powerful epic spells that she herself had devised. Both Scatterspells and Soulerio had made that their price for helping Manzorian and Meerthan get the book - that the spellbook section would be theirs to study. As for Eadfrid, he as ever was simply interested in helping his friends as best he could.

And so, the three comrades began their march toward the dungeon beneath Krestible's city hall, where they once held their prisoners - and where now lay the object of their quest, slowly tainting and corrupting the air throughout the city.

To be continued...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 15

Alhaster, Five Months Ago

Life has been quite the whirlwind these past few weeks and months. First I was forced to flee from the Temple of Wee Jas near Diamond Lake, after the Betrayer brought the veil of Shadow upon the world. Then, when High Priestess Elena became Queen of Alhaster, she offered that I become her assistant at the new Grand Cathedral, as reward for my hard work in the past. I therefore serve her now as friend, advisor and cohort.

Yet, my time here in Alhaster has been short, as she is now sending me off on what she deems a quite urgent mission - to negociate a deal with the heads of the Amalgamation. This is for the simple reason that ever since its creation, the Amalgamation has refused to ally itself with the faith of Wee Jas - likely out of spite over the whole fiasco with Embril Aloustinai and Ike Iverson, there in Cauldron. And while Elena could care less about us being a part of such a silly notion as the Amalgamation, she can't deny their ever-growing influence and power. This growth has her worried, and as she has always been quite suspicious by nature, she now fears that the Amalgamation may be conspiring against her, and against all Weejasians. Therefore, she wants me to negociate our entry into their ranks, at last. She feels that enough time has gone by for them to have gotten over Embril's actions. Also, she has gathered substantial proof to the effect that Embril was a cleric of Nerull all along - and in no way represented the true faith of Wee Jas.

Thus, I now head off the Cauldron bearing this proof, along with all my diplomatic skill, hoping to secure an alliance between the church of Wee Jas and the Amalgamation. And should negociations prove difficult, Elena has also granted me the necessary funds to make a large bribe - hopefully cementing their acceptance.

Yet, personally I have my own misgivings about the entire matter. I doubt they would be conspiring against us, to begin with. But furthermore, why bother joining them if even Elena finds the idea of an Amalgamation to be blasphemous against our true faith?

What I truly wonder, is how many of these so-called "priests" of the Amalgamation have asked their Gods what they think of the matter? For I truly doubt, for instance, that Pelor would approve of association with the likes of Vecnites, Erythnulites and Nerullians. And the same must go for the evil gods as well. Were not the Gods created by AO the Overgod in the first place to represent all the varied interests of the peoples of the world? If he believed they could all be joined beneath a single faith, then he would have simply reigned alone as Overgod, without any need for others, no?

In my heart, I feel that this whole thing is a dark omen for this world. We've witnessed death, plagues and disease everywhere across the land in these past few trying years. Are we now witnessing the decline of religion as well?

I fear that things do not bode well for our world...

Ahead of the Storm - Day 14

Magepoint, Five Months Ago

Dear Meerthan,

It is a pleasure to finally hear from you - I have heard a great many things about you, through our mutual friend Verodemocrium. Though it is a shame our first discussion has to touch upon such a terrible topic. I'm sure that you know as well as I that the fabled Demonomicon of Iggwilv bears with it a terrible legacy - that any who claim possession of one of the six copies of the tome is cursed to deadly misfortune, usually soon to fall prey to a horrible death.

Yet you also speak true, in that if you need to learn more about the Demon Lords who rule the Abyss, there is no great repository of knowledge and discussion about their histories, natures, personalities - and dirty little secrets. Indeed, the Witch Queen of Perrenland, Iggwilv, has done well to secure her own survival by threatening to share many darker and currently unknown secrets of the Demon Lords, should they ever threaten her in any way. By what means she gathered all these secrets in the first play is still a great mystery, though many believe it is through her own personal network of spies who have infiltrated the highest ranks of many a Demon Lord's kingdom.

In any case, such a book would surely be of great use to you in learning about Orbius's particular demonic obsessions - these 17 names you have uncovered. Yet, actually gaining access to one is quite the tricky matter. However, I do have some leads.

The most promising of these leads pertains to the remote trade town of Krestible, on the outskirts of the Witch Queen's territory. My contacts have reported to me that the local constabulary recently raided a worn-down warehouse which had been reported for late-night noise and disturbances. What the constable found there, however, was not any form of group or cult - but rather a scene of undescribable carnage and gore - with at its center on the floor of the warehouse a black leather-bound tome. Upon examination by wizards in the town guards' employ, it was identified as one of the six copies of the Demonomicon, and placed under strict watch in the dungeon, until is has undergone further study. In the weeks since, however, rumors hold that the townspeople have been plagued by dark evening visions and that the city's streets come alive at night with twisted otherworldly forms.

It is my belief that we would be doing the people of Krestible a great service by relieving them of the burden of the Demonomicon, do you not agree? For this purpose, I have therefore assembled an elite task force, well-versed in the Dark Arts and necromantic trickery, for the purpose of slipping into Krestible largely unnoticed, to retrieve the book and bring it back to me for consultation in the matter of these 17 Demon Lords you wish to know about.

I trust you will approve of my choice of adventurers for this special mission: Scatterspells, Soulerio and Eadfrid. I have no doubt that they will retrieve the book without trouble. In fact, Scatterspells in particular seems greatly excited about getting out of Cauldron and back into action for a bit. Soulerio still seems a bit rattled by the events of the war against Kyuss, though he also seems intrigued by the possible knowledge contained in the Demonomicon. As for Eadfrid, well Scatterspells has him easily convinced - and it is possible that his particular undead traits will be of use in protecting him from some of the book's dark magic.

Thus, I send them off tonight - hopefully they shall return successful. Then, you and I can work together with them and some of the Arcane Obelisk's leading professors to piece together a full biography for each of the 17 Demon Lords that were the center of Orbius' obsession. And even if this proves not to be all that relevant to learning about his future plans, the knowledge itself is certain to be quite fascinating.

So, best of luck to us all - I hope to report back to you soon with further good news.

Sincerely,

Manzorian