24 Hammer, 1372

Dear Master Zorthaster,

We have returned from ancient Netheril, bearing with us a great store of heavy magic and a tremendous amount of information. Our travels have been highly successful and interesting, if not terribly enriching with respect to material wealth.

At the end of my last letter, we were just about to enter the dwarven port city of of Ascore. We made it into the city without incident, but were surprised almost immediately to be greeted by a lovely, well dressed, young woman calling out for us. She was hailing us from across a market square. "Wandsmen! Wandsmen!," she shouted to us. Master Wands was particularly startled by the woman. I became nervous only when I saw that he was surprised by her appearance in this ancient time. It was clearly not some agent of his here to greet us.

She approached bearing a large scroll tube and told us that our request had been granted. This puzzled everyone, but when she handed us the scroll tube we took it and read the contents. It was a simple message, signed by the arcanist Chronomancer. It said, "I'll be visiting the enclave of Sanctuary. Passage has been arranged, the captain awaits your pleasure." The young lady who introduced herself as Sahana Brighteyes quickly led us on a winding road, down to the docks. She led us to a ship of stone, wider, higher and bulkier than any other sailing vessel I'd ever seen. Stone ribs extended from below the water line to a point high above the rail where they ended in sharp points. Two of these strange ribs, whose use became apparent later on our journey, adorned either side of the ship.

The crew was, just then, assembling before the captain, a shiny headed dwarf covered in tattoos. We waited on the dock while he addressed his crew. The ship was named the Dasool Machek, or in the common tongue, the Prosperous Duchess. The captain seemed stern but fair and at the end of his address, his second in command went around so the crew could draw lots for their seat assignments at the oars. The ones who were assigned seats near the ribs seemed to call themselves the winners of the draw.

We were granted permission to board after the captain's address and he greeted us warmly. Sahana easily lifted the heavy stone gangway and set it gently onto the deck. The crew cast off and we were underway. Dwarven drummers started up a beat and we backed out, away from the dock. The oars were not in the water yet, so the ship had to have been propelled by the Art, though how, I could not tell. The sails above, woven of something that looked for all the world like chain mail, rustled and clinked softly. A detect magic cantrip told me that the hull and sails were both enchanted. Sahana was also bright with the aura of the Art.

As evening approached, we could see a mountain ahead in the distance, growing slowly closer as the ship made its way along the seacoast. Getting closer, we could see a city atop the mountain. That night, when the ship finally sat at anchor, we were under the shadow of Sanctuary, a glittering city on top of a floating mountain. Sahana took us to the back deck and hauled in a wooden skiff that we had towed behind the Dasool Machek on a long chain. The skiff was covered in intricate runes and was beautifully made. As the Wandsmen and Sahana boarded the skiff, she gave us warning. She told us to draw no weapons nor use any offensive spells in Sanctuary, for the mythallar would teleport us far away.

The skiff lifted off the water and flew us to the busy aerial docks of Sanctuary. We were met by the Harbormaster who recognized Sahana. She spoke for us while we divested ourselves of our weapons. The lady assured us that they would be safe in the skiff. She seemed amused by the thought that someone might think otherwise.

Walking through the crazy streets of Sanctuary was hardly to be believed. The buildings and walkways stuck to the inverted mountain top in all possible directions, all keyed to the mythallar, all with their own gravity plane. Smaller satellite towers, not attached to the main mass of the city floated off at random distances. Mentally dominated and enslaved swamp dragons and black dragons flew all around the city as an aerial guard.

Sahana continued in her role as guide, leading us up to an impressive palace to our appointment with the Chronomancer. We assembled in a small, luxurious but comfortable hall where sweets and drinks had been set out in anticipation of our arrival. While we waited for the Chronomancer, Master Wands expounded on the exploits of our host. Little of what he told us was familiar to me, or made much sense, but I did understand that we were about to meet the mage that started the entire study of time magic.

Sahana returned with disappointing news. The Chronomancer was very busy and sent his regrets that he could not meet with all of us. He only had time to meet, alone for a while, with Master Wands Sahana turned to leave with Master Wands but secretly dropped a note to us on the table. She left without saying anything else. We looked at the note. It was a short riddle from the Chronomancer himself and appeared to have been intended for us.

Like Chaff in the wind
Vessels of the Mercane pact
Leaves all
All burning in the wind
Ware the shadows of Shinantra.

The word Mercane, was clearly a reference to the purveyors of spelljamming helms, a race also known as the Arcane. A quick look at the Master Wands' map showed us that the Shinantra Mountain range lay west of the lake that filled what we know as Atar's Looking Glass in what was to become the Anauroch desert. What the Mercane pact was, or why spelljamming ships might be burning in the wind was completely mysterious. The reference to the shadows of Shinantra might refer to the City of Shade, its inhabitants, or to something located under the shadow of the mountain range.

We hid the note and map when we heard someone approaching, but it was just Master Wands and Sahana. Master Wands looked completely overwhelmed, but whether that was due to meeting the legendary founder of his chosen field of study, or from information overload, we could not tell. Sahana explained for Master Wands that the Chronomancer had asked us to accompany the body of a fallen dwarf from Tethyamar to the citadel Radrundar. Passage had been arranged for all stages of the journey and we were to be an honor guard as well as a guard in fact to the body of the dwarf in his stone sarcophagus. In exchange, we could have all the heavy magic we wanted.

We returned to the Dasool Machek to find the captain and crew waiting patiently. It was a bit of a shock to see campfires burning on the deck of the ship and dwarves settled comfortably around them, but with a stone ship, fire was not a danger as it would be on a wooden vessel. Somewhere along the way, Master Wands started to become a bit more like his old self, speaking in confusing fragments about visiting Seventon where Netheril was founded, and reaching Yeomans Loft in time to hear the decision of the Mercane Pact.

His comment on the Mercane Pact sparked my interest due to the cryptic note from the Chronomancer. Master Wands, after much careful questioning, and many tangential commentaries, revealed that the Mercane had come to ancient Netheril and were now talking with the Netherese about a treaty relative to spelljamming ships. While the Arcanist Halruas had ideas for flying ships that were larger than skiffs, and not dependent on a mythallar, other arcanists were interested in developing their own spelljamming helms independently from the Mercane. An announcement was expected from the meeting at Yeomans Loft which would explain why the Netherese had decided to abandon research into their own helms and focused instead on the route advocated by Halruas. If we were in time to hear the announcement, we might learn much about the history of spelljamming on Aber Toril.

The accommodations on board the dwarf ship were far from luxurious, especially once the huge stone sarcophagus was delivered and loaded on to the deck. I considered casting a magnificent mansion, but I expect that the portal would be keyed to the space above the ship's deck, not to the ship's deck itself, and I would find an empty sea below the portal in the morning rather than the Prosperous Duchess. Instead, Ciercie and I curled up against a rail, away from the spray of the waves as the ship got underway by the bright light of the stars.

By morning, the ship had made its way out of the huge bay along the western part of the sea and was out into more open waters. Not long thereafter, we were stopped by a gigantic sea elf with skin in a stiking pattern of black and white colors, bearing hundreds of razor sharp teeth when he opened his mouth to speak. He came partly out of the water before the ship and spoke to the captain. The dwarf addressed him as Lord Ishra and asked politely for permission to travel these waters. Lord Ishra seemed pleased with the respectful request and smiled a broad, toothy smile before slipping quietly into the water. The ship sailed on.

We had a peaceful interlude for several days as the stone ship sailed across the beautiful sea. Kerith delighted in making music with the dwarven drummers and learning their songs. I explored the deck, probing into the magic that caused the strange vessel to float and the metal sails to catch the wind. Along the way I learned that Sahana was a construct. That explained the strong aura of Art that infused her being. It did little to explain her attractiveness or her kind and gentle manners. I had no idea that constructs could be anything but great awkward lumbering masses of stone or metal or flesh.

We saw another side of Sahana when our ship was attacked by a huge dragon turtle around midday on our seventh day out from Sanctuary. The beast rose up from the sea directly under the ship, trying to capsize us. The stone boat was too sturdy for the maneuver, however and we sprang to attack. Sahana leapt from the rail, her hands turning into rapiers for a rapid attack on the beast. She returned to the rail with a graceful vault. Shane was not too far behind her, executing a similar leap, attack, and return. I did little more than cast mass haste, but my companions seemed grateful for my contribution to the battle.

The turtle was badly injured from our counter attack but tried a second time to capsize the Dasool Machek. The ship had his own trick in store for her attacker, and with a quick shifting of stones from the deck, a hole to below decks opened up. The pointed ribs on either side of the deck were revealed as spring loaded weapons. One spike sprang upward and outward like a huge war pick, spearing into the back of the turtle, crashing through the tough armor plating of its back and driving into the soft flesh below. Blood and gore sprayed everywhere. The pick slid out of the wound and a team of dwarves raced to winch the deadly instrument back into position and reload it. The turtle wanted nothing more to do with this ship and sank out of sight into the bloody water. Whether it sank down to die, or swam off to some hidden fastness to nurse its wounds, we would never know.

Later that same day we reached the port town of Harboredge. It sat on a large island in the middle of the sea, surrounded by other, smaller islands all atop a huge rise in the sea floor The rise created a stretch of shallows and dangerous reefs that were impassable by ship. We were scheduled to switch vessels here, carrying the sarcophagus across town and loading it onto a ship on the other side of the shallows. Plans changed.

An enormous cloud giant came down out of the city accompanied by a few humans. There was some banter between the dwarf captain and the cloud giant. Ten more giants appeared. A shout was raised from a dwarf drummer. Rumbling laughter came in response from the giants. Suddenly the drummers started up a deep, booming song. The rowers, with their deep bass voices joined in. The giants waded into the water on either side of our ship and lifted it out of the water. They began to sing along with the dwarves and the cadence of the drums, their voices like thunder. They carried the ship through the town of Harborage, down a wide road. Along the way, another team of giants carrying a wooden three master approached from the opposite direction. They were also singing, but our giants and dwarves were louder and much more enthusiastic and the other team stepped out of the way to let us pass. Our team waded into the sea on the other side of town and set the ship into the sea with great care. The song continued even as we sailed away. Later the captain explained that the drummers agreed to teach the giants a rare song rather than paying them for passage. It was the song about how the giants and dwarves together created the Art of rune magic. Everyone was energized by the Harborage experience for hours afterward.

A few days out from Harborage, we discovered that the ship was being followed by sea people. A short time later we were stopped by a strange race of aquatic folk. They wanted to know who and what we were. Later, from the captain, we found out that they like to know who is traveling through their realm. At the time, all the captain told us was to tell them the truth of who we were and what we were up to. I said that I was the Arcanist known as Cedar and that I was in the service of the Chronomancer. True enough as far as it went. My companions told a similar tale and we were allowed to pass. Looking behind us, I saw another of the sea people give the all-clear sign to our questioner. I suspect that he was using the Art to detect lies or something similar.

Two days later we arrived in the town of Nauseef of Seventon. Here we said good bye to the captain and crew of the Dasool Machek. We wandered the town a bit while we awaited the arrival of the ship that would take us on the next stage of our journey. I was sorely tempted to take out the scroll and see it it would lead me to something nearby, but after talking to Shane about my idea, I decided against it.

In the town's market place there were several kenku in cages. An arcanist was looking at them, intending to purchase them when a planar portal opened and a man stepped through. He declared himself as The Sword Lord Aflyus of Archeron and called Lord Shadow out. Immediately the Sword Lord appeared to transform into a storm of whirling blades. Shadow put up a wall of force between him and the blades, and in the ensuing chaos, we acted. A kenku was reaching for something outside the bars, Xan shot just in front of the kenku's hand. I'm not sure what the ranger was thinking. Primula quickly stepped over and picked up the object and handed it to the bird man. I stepped forward thinking to disintegrate the wall of force but reconsidered. Instead I disintegrated the lock on the cage and the Kenku burst out. They shouted at Lord shadow that he would never enslave them. A white light melted the cage. In my head I heard a booming voice thank us for releasing them. A little distance away, Shadow cast a spell (some sort of baleful mass polymorph) that turned a cartload of melons into rust monsters. The frightening creatures attacked the storm of blades which was reduced to small piles of rust in half a breath.

The sword lord was gone. With a dismissive look at the fleeing kenku, Lord Shadow walked off. The rust monsters remained, causing havoc. We made a quick exit, in search of our ride.

We caught passage on a large, flying skiff bound for Yeoman's Loft. After we boarded the skiff, Oskar went to check on the sarcophagus, inspecting it with his power to detect evil. His purpose was to ensure that we were not carrying something evil into the dwarven citadel, disguised as a great fallen warrior. Oskar fell to his knees immediately and was captivated. Primula quickly went to his aid and proclaimed that he was enraptured by the experience of examining the sarcophagus and its contents. We did what we could to make him comfortable, but on the advice of the priestess, we did nothing to disturb him.

The dwarf was still enraptured when we reached Yeoman's Loft. Sahana and Primula stayed with the skiff and Oskar while Master Wands dragged us rapidly into the center of town. At docks high above us there were dozens of spelljamming ships of nearly every race. Notably absent were the elves. There were no elven ships present. Somehow, Master Wands was able to get us permission to attend the parliamentary style hearings that were reaching their conclusion. [Editors note: Yeoman's Loft contains dozens of spelljamming "sky docks". These are huge structures that shoot up into the sky with many piers that spelljamming ships can berth in.]

We struggled and pushed our way into the gallery until we could hear and see what was going on. Just as it looked to be a deadly dull session, a man was called up to speak. He was a flashy dresser, and make me think just a little of Bargin in his mannerisms and style. He stepped forward and bowed as two other people brought forward a huge scroll on two rollers. With a flair for the dramatic, the man held one roller and sent the other cascading down the aisle, unfurling a in long, long parchment scroll.

He told his tale, standing before the unfurled scroll. He told the audience that he had been sent on a quest to unlock the mysteries and legends of all the races that had ever developed their own spelljamming helms. He was sent to look into the fates of all that had developed spelljamming helms on their own. He discovered this long, long list of races which had achieved their goal. Without exception, every name on this list, every race that had solved the mysteries and created the Art of spelljamming on their own, was now gone. Everyone destroyed. Each one now nothing more than the stuff of history, no more than ruined worlds and cultures. He stopped and placed the end of the scroll gently on the floor and returned to his seat. The room, full of people and color, was silent. Eyes turned to the tall, blue-skinned Mercane sitting quietly and unconcerned near the Speaker's podium. No one moved for a very long time.

Finally, with a hesitancy that was uncharacteristic for the proud Netherese, the Speaker stepped to the podium and began to address the crowd. He stated simply that Halruas' ideas for flying ships would be more profitable as a research topic than developing other methods. Henceforth, they would buy spelljamming helms from the mercane only. The heads of the council, sitting close to the Speaker, all nodded in agreement. The mercane just smiled, nodded once, and quietly left the hall, his job done. No threats were made, no ultimatums issued. The Mercane Pact was made.

The next morning we flew into the Destertsmouth Mountains, four miles northwest of the outpost of Tethyamar where in our time, the Zhents had their hideout. We settled in a large lake beside a submerged walkway leading to large doors. As the skiff landed in the water the walkway rose up out of the water. Dwarves in ceremonial robes came out of the wide doors in a grand procession. With great ceremony we passed the sarcophagus to them and they carried it into the Citadel of Radrundar.

As the doors closed, the walkway descended back under the water and we took off, heading back to Sanctuary. The skiff took us rapidly across the wild country, past twenty or more enclaves floating atop their inverted mountains. One enclave, shrouded in shadow, drew us all to the rail to watch it for as long as it remained in view. It took us only two days to return to Sanctuary. Along the way, Oskar returned to us from his rapture. He spoke very little of what he experienced. About all we learned was that the sarcophagus contained the body of the one who created the dwarf's greatest artifact with the help of Moradin. Moradin spoke to Oskar, telling him that one day our friend would wield the Axe of the Dwarven Lords.

When we arrived back in Sanctuary, we were met by Bargin. He told us that he would take us back to the gate after we collected our heavy magic. He led us to a room filled with green vessels with tubes running all around. We poured a bit of the liquid from a tube and it turned silver. It was heavy magic. Master Wands got a huge grin on his face and instructed us all to drink as much as we could. There was a bit of fear and consternation at this, but Master Wands assured us that everything would be just fine. Eventually, everyone drank from the heavy magic tubes until they were near bursting. Even Ciercie, boosted with an endurance spell, filled up on the stuff. It filled the body and limbs and made me feel as though I was made of lead. I became woozy and on fire at the same time. It pounded in my head and begged for release through immediate spell casting. I struggled to contain it. Master Wands had flames flickering out of his eyes and dancing on his finger tips.

"Now Bargin," he shouted in a voice like cloud giants.

We staggered through the doorway and found ourselves in the mountains before the time gate. A burning hands spell ripped out of me, uncontrolled. I had barely enough sense left to me to shape a small hole where someone stood. I heard a shout from the gatecrasher. The gate was open and we leapt through. Master Wands staggered to a telstang jar and grabbed hold with both hands. The heavy magic drained from him and began filling the jar. Following his lead, we all stumbled woodenly to the telstang and gave up our heavy magic load.

We were exhausted. Fortunately, the multigate was still active and we pushed the cart of telstang jars through to Master Wands' workshop. Leaving the heavy magic below ground, we made our way up to his kitchen and tried to recover. Master Wands tried and failed to get a small fire going in his hearth with a spell. I was able to assist and soon we had a big pot of tea on and we were able to rest and recover our strength a bit.

During our rest, someone discovered a note slipped under the door in Master Wands' shop. It was from Lord Randal Morn. He asked Master Wands to send us to him immediately if he should find us. We took our leave of Master Wands, heading to a meeting with Lord Morn. Before we could leave, Master Wands gave us each a bag of gold for our help.

It was the afternoon of the 24th of Hammer when we returned and found our way through town to Lord Morn's hall. He was glad to see us and instructed Brigga to go get keys. With no explanation, he brought us into a deep part of his dungeon where there were a suite of special holding cells. These were cleaner and warmer and drier than most dungeon cells, and held a special guest.

Solom Nedrezak waited for us in one of the cells. He seemed comfortable but a bit impatient with the wait. The guards were dismissed and the drow explained why he was there. He told us that he was having a problem with which we might be able to help. In trying to reestablish trade routes and routine patrols, he was having some difficulty. During his efforts, he discovered twin idiots of Kiaransalee. They were captured and killed. They happened to have some troublesome prisoners with them. The prisoners were priestesses of Eilistraee. If we agree to do something about the problem of establishing trade routes to Maerimydra, and we take along a troublesome student of his, we could have the three prisoners to do with as we saw fit. We would also be given a map of the underdark and a sealed letter found with the twins.

We discussed the offer with Lord Morn. He did not seem too eager to have us poking around in the underdark after solving his raiding trouble. He did agree that if there were more troubles brewing that could spill out onto the surface again that it would be worth knowing about. We agreed to Nedrezak's bargain and told him we would return after nightfall.

In the meanwhile, I went to the Woven tower. I wish you had been there Master Zorthaster. I went to declare that I was ready to be acknowledged as an Archmage. I first went to see Gadlyn, the dwarf weaponsmith and Shraevener. When I told him what I wanted, he seemed a bit taken aback and asked my why I thought I was ready for such a thing. From behind me I heard the voice of Elminster of Shadowdale assuring Gadlyn that he thought I was ready. We hustled down the hall to pull a few other masters of the tower away from classes and other duties. Along the way Oriseus and Lord Vangerdehast arrived. We had a brief recognition ceremony in a small hall where Elminster promised to help the masters of the tower to set up a spell pool. Just before he left, Elminster congratulated me and told me to "look to the sparks, my boy."

Afterward, we got some supplies for our next adventure and returned to the jail to pick up Solom Nedrezak. It was full dark when we left Daggerfalls and rode for Shadowhold. We rode all night and arrived at the keep at daybreak. There are drow sentries there and the prisoners were being kept in the gatehouse. Four drow were thrown at our feet. Three females looked up at Primula with something like awe. They bowed to her and told her that they had traveled may leagues to meet the Sword Sister, the key to restoring the temple of Corellon and Eilistraee.

The last drow was a beaten down, albino male. He called Solom Nedrezak "uncle" when he was told that he would be taken by us. Nedrezak seemed unconcerned about what we should do with the albino once we took him away. He did congratulate me on my new title and repeated Elminster's cryptic "look to the sparks" comment. Nedrezak, however, gave a quick, furtive glance up in the air above one of the ruined towers when he said it.

With no goodbyes between uncle and nephew, Nedrezak went over to a patch of shrubs near the wall and uncovered a teleportation circle. It would lead to the guard chamber near the Inverted tower. We should use it when we were ready to fulfill our part of the bargain. He took his guards and left us with their former prisoners as the sun broke over the horizon.

Sincerely,

Cedar