Notes on the Journey
By Talon

Volume 4.

18 Alturiak, 1370. Home in Merrydale.

We returned to our fortress at Dragonsmere to find that Ted and the others had kept themselves busy chasing ettins from the hills. We took the gate to Daggerfalls only to find ourselves in Eagles Eyrie. The dwarves were busy there rebuilding their fortress. We took the short journey down into town to meet with Lord Randal Morn. The town was clean and bright and vibrant, filled with new buildings and colorful banners. There was a brief ugly incident with an assassination attempt, but Morn's townsfolk were so fast to defend their lord that the assassins had no chance to succeed.

Morn explained that the place was renamed Merrydale and that everyone was working hard to change the old ways. They were having a celebration of renewal and thanks to our help and a lot of work by the dale folk, much had changed. The Lord of the Dale filled us in on what happened while we were away, with plague in Zhentil Keep, bands of troublesome Zhents, and open piracy on the Moonsea.

Morn was forming stronger alliances with the dwarves who are building their presence in the dale to what it was in olden days. If we were willing to help, he could do even more. Asking Moorgin to leave for his own protection, and out of earshot of the priestess, he told us of the legends of Clan Bladebright. A cursed axe of the dwarvish lords was to be found in a deep dungeon in the dale. Recovering the axe could lead to recovering the lost mines of Tethyamer. Moorgin is the only one that can handle the item. But, he cannot know what it is that we seek before it is recovered. Because of the curse, if he should know of it and seek it, he would be killed. If we wish to take up this challenge, we would be agreeing to secure the great axe and clear the mines of the evil influences. There are likely many powerful wizards in the delvings. The dungeons themselves likely consist of 4-5 master levels with other lesser levels throughout.

Some time after we returned to the fortress, word reached us through Mazarale that the Second Unhuman War was ended. The scro were driven back and the elves had destroyed the Marauder just as they had promised. The Scro had entered this war knowing that they had to win it quickly. They did not have the ability or the resources to win a long, protracted war. When the elves convincingly demonstrated control and possession of the Marauder, the scro knew they could not win. They retreated, sued for peace and pushed to end the hostilities quickly before the elves destroyed them all with the Marauder.

Mazarale himself, although not overjoyed about it, agreed to take the dragonfly in exchange for his lost wasp. We told him the entire long tale of the recovery of the Marauder and explained why we had been unable to recover the wasp from Gamerol Base. He seemed to accept the loss and was not terribly displeased with the dragonfly.

During our journeys through the phlogostin and wildspace Beldin had been helping pass the time by reading excerpts from several old adventuring journals. One, written in a strange language from the far east told the story of the Greased Ferrets from the perspective of Kenjii Wu. He was a specialist in using the naginata, a pole arm weapon still in the bag of holding along with the journal. This group had a lot of contact with Elminster so during our winter lay over at the tower, I took a few days to travel to Shadowdale to tell the sage about the fate of the Greased Ferrets. Is seems that they met an unfortunate end fighting a neogi ship in the flow. Elminster surmised as much but was pleased that we reported the information to him.

We also recovered the remains of another adventurer killed in the Spider haunt woods while in search of Lord Morn. Delben Moonglow adventured with Eight and a Half before being killed by Zhent lightning bolts. The priests of Lathander interred the remains in their reconstructed catacombs, honoring his service to the dale. Our priests are unable to bring him back yet. I would like to see him raised as his skills in information gathering and his loyalty to the cause of Merrydale would be very useful.

Along the way I stopped in to see Prothus the halfling/dragon. I thought he would be interested in hearing about the giant red dragons we found in Shadow Space. He seemed quite agitated and told me again that he would not interfere either directly or indirectly with Flame. He told me that we caused a great commotion by our interference. He dismissed all the nations of the humans and elves as so much nonsense, stating that the territories of the dragon kind are the only political boundaries that matter, having existed long before the time of men or even elves. Prothus did provide me with a useful piece of information, though I do not know how I will act on it. He said that dragons are vengeful creatures, but their vengeance need not be delivered out on the same generation that incurred their wrath. Their extended lives makes plotting revenge a long and savory matter.

Myk and I took the Hammer ship out for a quick tour around. I wanted to see Bannon of Bloodstone to discuss some things while Myk wanted to spend some time east of there at his home. Elminster had warned us that when visiting the Bloodstone lands via flying ships, that we should land some distance from the valley and walk in. It seems they have substantial air defenses in place against dragons and others.

Bannon was interested to find that while I had developed Sword Lord skills and had learned much about how to use the long sword, I knew almost nothing about the Sword Lords themselves. I was trying to discover what lay ahead on this path as I feel the call of The Lady of Silver growing stronger. Yet too, I feel the pull of the sword continuing to lead me onward. He suggested that I do what I needed to do and not concern myself over the path of the Sword Lords unless I decided to pursue it without distraction. I got the message that this man feels anything other than an obsessive and life-long commitment to the path he walks is meddling and playing at something without real commitment. His philosophy is "the straighter and narrower the path, the clearer the answers." In the end he said "The Sword Lord's path is not easy and it will probably end badly." He would explain no more.

We took the Hammer ship past Mysthaven where we had discovered the dragonfly ship. The top had been ripped off the island. The insectoid creature and the elves in their pods was gone. The mist that hung over the island was gone along with the elven insect/ship.

The last errand I wanted to run during my busy winter layover was to see the priests of Lathander about a spell to help recover some of the health I seemed to loose after that last brush with death on Gamerol base. They were happy to help but afterward, had a proposal for me to consider. Holly wants to start a Paladin's Guild Hall in Daggerfalls. This would be a place for Paladins, Paragons, and Crusaders of all goodly faiths to come together, share skills and help each other advance shared objectives. Her problem was lack of funds to build their headquarters. Troy and I both transferred our land grants from Lord Morn to the cause. I further contributed 20,000 gold lions to the building fund. Troy gave 15,000. Later, after talking to Egwene, I convinced her to contribute 10,000. This is just the kind of building project I feel best about contributing to. It was a wonderful opportunity. It matched well the grants Lord Morn has been able to award with the donations I provided earlier. I learned about how he has used those funds and was very pleased that he was able to use them to attract some skilled tradesmen and solid citizens to the dale, providing seed money to get them established in businesses here.

7 Ches 1370. - The Lost Mines of Tethyamer

After equipping ourselves for a dungeon delving, we made our way to the Lost Mines of Tethyamer following Lord Morn's directions and speeded along with the help of several spells from the Windwalker.

Lord Morn's map took us west and north, following the Tesh River. We took a forested trail along the edge of the Border Forest then along the edge of the Deserts Mouth Mountains. In the Mountains we discovered the traces of an old road crafted by dwarfish hands. In places it was obliterated by landslides, but the further along we went, the more evident it became. It finally ended by dipping into a mountain lake, heading straight for an icy waterfall. Expecting a guardian creature in the lake, we took advantage of a water walking spell to prance across the lake, now just breaking open in the spring.

Behind the waterfall, its battlements still encased in ice, we found the mountain fortress Radrundar. The passage into the mountain was huge and guarded by a series of bronze portcullises. The first few were smashed through. We were able to slip through these without difficulty. As we were bending the bars on an intact one, two gigantic snake heads erupted from the lake and darted in to attack us. We were able to get through the bars without the creature or creatures being able to reach us. When they realized this, the snake heads slipped back into the lake.

Beldin changed shape and slipped ahead to scout. He found that the bronze doors ahead of us were barred by a huge steel bar. Inside the next room was a guardian statue. The priestess turned the floor under the doors to a thin mud and we squished our way through, under the doors. Inside we found ourselves in a furious battle. The guardian statue was made of strange whirling plates that would pinch down on its attackers' weapons, pulling them from their hands. I was able to use a Sword Lord power to recover mine, but Troy and Myk had some trouble. While we were fighting this, goblins above us fired hails of quarrels down on us from murder holes. They also threw exploding containers of smoke powder. Beldin, again changing his shape, flew up through a murder hole to take the battle to them. There were thunderous explosions above as lightning bolts crackled unseen in the chambers overhead. Egwene cast her rope trick spell to give us a place of retreat and she headed up to care for her wounds. I was about to follow but had an idea first.

Troy, the Dwarf and I got the bar off the door with much effort and tried to get the doors open. Unfortunately, the doors were locked in addition to being barred. While we were doing this, the goblins poured oil down on our heads and lit it. I dove into the mud after being badly burned. I was covered in mud, and burned flesh, I still had quarrels stuck into me and I hurt like all the nine hells. I headed up the rope into Egwene's magical retreat to nurse my wounds. She was just headed down to go after Myk and Beldin so I went up alone to quaff some healing potions. I felt better after that.

Later the others came up and we closed up the entrance. We opened it up briefly to sluice some of the mud off us and out into the room below. The goblins continued to search for us, throwing down their exploding balls every now and then.

Egwene cast a spell that created a Hero's Feast. We ate and discussed plans. The consensus was to retreat and come back in with a little more preparations. After our rest we quickly descended into the room, wormed our way through the mud and raced back toward the lake. We were somewhat protected by a wind spell cast by Myk so the arrows from the murder holes could not reach us. Upon reaching the far side of the lake we found a battered dwarf sitting on the logs we left there. He had been ambushed by goblins and nearly killed. He asked what we were up to. We did not tell him at first but he was persistent. When he learned that we were exploring in the lost mines of Tethyamer, he demanded to know which one. I thought it was safe to say, as we had said the name earlier with no harm done to Moorgin. I was terribly wrong. As soon as I said the name Radrundar, the dwarf clutched his chest, blood frothed from his lips and he keeled over dead. I was horrified. I looked to Moorgin, but he was all right. He said that he had figured out where we were when he was inside. Since he learned of this while we were there, not while he was looking for it, he was now freed from the curse. I was greatly relieved but still very troubled by what my careless action had wrought upon the poor unnamed dwarf lying dead at my feet.

We carried the dead dwarf up the hillside as we sought a safe place to camp. Myk led the way with a spell until we approached a strange sight. It was a naked tiefling standing in the snow whipping himself with a bundle of thin tree branches. He was embarrassed when he realized we were watching, but kept on with a pained expression on his face. I hid the body in the bushes and we approached the camp there on the mountainside. There was a huge, axe-wielding guy in spiky armor, a cowled, retiring figure that smoldered with heat and a horse faced guy, Quinnian, who was more hospitable than all the others combined. The big guy was Kedrin Tenkiller, a mercy killer. They were all from Sigil here on a mission to recover something. They asked for directions to Shrayven's Tomb, obviously looking for the gate to Sigil there. I tried to find out more about what they were doing here before giving them directions, but Tenkiller acted like he would chop off my head if I did not do what he wanted. I huffed off to talk with the tiefling who was obviously a member of the Society of Sensation. His name was Kriat and we quickly became immersed in a conversation about our experiences. He agreed to carry a message to my parents, if they were still alive in exchange for a new sensation. Myk had brought out some foul smelling compost like stuff from an upper chamber in Radrundar so I offered it to Kriat. We sat by the fire inhaling deep lungfulls of the horrible oily odor. Kriat ended up with some stuck up his nostrils and when he threw it in the fire, it burst into an even more disgusting smokey foulness that nearly caused us both to pass out.

He agreed to carry my letter after our heads cleared a bit. I was still a little muzzy but quickly scribbled out a short note that told my parents that I was still alive, still trying to find and follow the path my dream set me upon and that I was doing well. I also mentioned that I met Marista, the tiefling in Sigil 400 years earlier, but upon reflection, I may have still been addled from the smoke when I tried to explain that part. I signed the note with the name given to me by my parents, Gynnyth. This name had been part of my lost memories until my last visit to Sigil with Shrayven.

While the tiefling and I were engaged in our conversation, The Mercy Killer had Egwene dump out all her belongings to discover why she was plagued by the efreeti whenever she cast the fire elemental spell. He found the bottle that kept reappearing in amongst her belongings and eliminated the problem. He also learned about the mephit Stevie that Ash had conjured up. He was satisfied that Ash had been suitably punished when he learned of his fate. He was interested in learning more about the Tooka when he found out that he was in Daggerfalls and consorting with Stevie. When asked about Kilsek, Tenkiller said that the elf was not on the his list for dealing out justice. In fact, he indicated that Kilsek was on the right side of the line on some important issues. He would not say more, and later, when I tried to get Quinnian, the story teller to tell us about the Sword Lords, but the big morose guy quashed the suggestion immediately. He did offer training in the axe to Troy if he should get to Sigil after spotting the terrible ring worn by the builder. I get more and more confused by every little clue I come across in this matter.

8 Ches 1370 Creature of the Lake

In the morning, the travelers from Sigil left us to our journeys. We recovered the dead dwarf from his hiding place and the priests fashioned a crypt for him out of solid stone. I felt horrible that my mistake had cost this person his life. I have to find some way to atone for my error.

We worked our way back down to the lake with the hope of defeating the monster that lurked there. We wanted to clear our way for any future retreats that we may have to make past the lake. We lured a couple of snake heads into battle and they appeared two at a time. We started to believe that this thing, like the hydra we fought on the distant planet in Shadow space, was a regenerating monster with only two heads. We were disabused of that notion when dozens of snake heads, as big around as houses, rose 100 feet up out of the lake. All of the things roared at the same time in a deafening crash of sound that knocked the snow loose form the mountainsides as it echoed around the bowl containing the lake. The roar started a huge avalanche that swept us up as though we were fallen leaves in a swiftly moving river. The ice pummeled me and the crush of the wet snow threatened to bury me alive. I swam against the snow, working hard to keep my bearings and my head above the snow. I succeeded and was able to help the others dig out after the snow stopped moving. We were fortunate that no one was buried deeply.

We all looked back toward the lake and then at each other. No one suggested that we again try to lure the creature into battle. We turned and headed for Daggerfalls.

On the way Moorgin passed along an almost forgotten memory. He remembered that the Lake Radrunder Guardian was created by the mage Allokair in his rage. The dwarf also told us that Allokair always left himself a way of destroying his creations. We hope that this is the case with the monster of the lake as well.

Moorgin knew of a dwarven hero who had gone in search of Allokair. The dwarf found Allokair living in a place called the Grinding Gulf. Allokair was also involved in the history of this area as he tried to dominate the kingdom of Kingdom Hlonter. The mage had married the King's daughter, but in a fit of fury he turned her into the dragon Flame. We also learned that Allokair had commissioned a mage-slayer sword. To find the weakness of the monster in Lake Radrundar, we would need to travel to the Grinding Gulf to confront Allokair.

Before we left the mountains I asked Egwene to pray with me, asking atonement for my terrible mistake in saying the words that led to the death of the dwarf at the shore of the lake. Moorgin insisted that I ask forgiveness not of Selûne, the Goddess of my youth, but of the Dwarven God Moradin. I was uncomfortable with Moorgin's forceful way of dealing with my request for the priestess' help. I know he is trying to help me, but the way he goes about it seems more for his self interest than out of care for me. In the end, I submitted to his demands mainly to assuage my guilt. The result was that his god of the dwarves wanted me to accept personal responsibility for delivering the Axe of the Dwarven Lords to the Great Rift, south of the Shaar. This I gladly did. After that, Egwene and I held a vigil at moon rise. I got the strongest feeling of connection ever with the Silver Lady. She gave me to feel as though I had made an unfortunate mistake and that I did no wrong. Further, she was waiting for me to throw off the distractions I have. She needs her agents. Afterward, I felt much better.

9 Ches 1370 -- Healing Bites

On our way through Daggerfalls we stopped off at the Tooka's shop. It appears that the Mercy Killer tried to tangle with the Tooka and came out the looser. The huge axe and the big guy's dark helmet were on sale on the Tooka's small display shelf.

I bought several beetles that the strange man had for sale as "Healing Bites." To use them, one prods open the outer wings and bites off the abdomen. Unfortunately, the things only live a couple of rides.

11Ches 1370 -- The Grinding Gulf.

We found the cave that leads to the Grinding gulf to be guarded by stirges. In the middle of the floor Allokair's symbol was carved. It was partly hidden by puddles and tree roots, but it was clear that we were in the right place. The stone door was locked but we were able to force it open. In front of the door we found three gold coins. I begin to wonder if perhaps these coins are enchanted with a spell to track our whereabouts.

The next guards we faced were a pack of ghouls that Egwene tried to send to oblivion. To our amazement, the undead creatures were somehow protected from the power of her goddess. We killed them quickly and headed for the next door. Again, we found a small pile of gold coins in front of the door. On the back of the door was a strange stucco that tasted of chalk and cherry stems. I began to suspect that this area may have been protected against teleport magic or ethereal travel. I could not say for sure though.

The door was magically held, but again failed to a brute force attack. Down the passage, we found a pair of traps. Thinking that we had wedged the first open, I stepped on the wrong spot and found myself falling right into a gelatinous cube. My companions pulled me out and performed a quick healing spell to erase the terrible corrosive pain of dissolving flesh.

Past the traps we were ambushed by a pair of drow firing wands of cold and chain lightning. A stone golem attacked our flank out of a secret door. There was a terrible battle of reflected spell energies and slashing swords before we realized that the attackers were illusions. Almost immediately two gargoyles dropped down from a real secret door above us. We killed them and Myk used their hidden corridor to explore on ahead as the main passage way was trapped. He found the Grinding Gulf ahead of us. We still had to go through the trapped passage though, where we were attacked by animated weaponry.

Once past that, we stood at the edge of a bottomless chasm filled with huge boulders flying through space. The boulders whipped through the air only to smash into each other or shatter against the chasm walls. I tossed a light pebble into the gulf and we watched it bounce off boulders until it's glow was lost in the depths. Far across the gulf lay the continuance of the passage. Somehow, we had to cross the gulf.

It became pointless to continue. We turned around after losing more than we gained and left the place with a scepter to kill the monster of the lake.

13 Chess 1370 -- Experiments with Krik

Krik was fascinated by the healing bites and wanted to study them. I was interested as well and so I let the insectoid creature cause me a massive wound so we could determine the potency of the healing power. I had never before experienced the pain of being nearly disemboweled, so that was interesting too. The beetle's abdomen was covered by several small maggot like worms that lived in a slime coating the insect. Krik was unable to determine how to keep the beetles and worms and slime alive longer than the 2 weeks predicted by the Tooka. Unfortunately, the Tooka was also unwilling to provide any additional information to help. If we wanted healing bites, we needed to buy them from the Tooka.

Near the end of the beetles predicted lifespan, Krik and the rest of the crew took the Hammer ship up to the Rock of Brall for supplies and Krik was able to sell the insects for 700 gl each. I ended up making a little gold on the deal and got some interesting new memories to boot.

Beldin spent most of the summer cooped up in a research lab in the tower or in his library. He learned that the main reason I liked to visit the library and the reason I gave him money to acquire books was that I loved the musty smell of old tomes and the feel of the finely made bindings. He seemed mildly disappointed, but dismisive. He was less remote when I mentioned popping a few books onto the shelves recently. He became highly agitated and kicked ME out of HIS library!

Moments later he came rushing out babbling about something hovering behind him and sucking away his magic. I couldn't see anything so we trotted off to Father Mayi (who we found, as usual, in the kitchen). Myk has been keeping well hidden, after starting his training under some shadowy figure seen coming out of the Tooka's place. Father Mayi cast a spell to become ethereal and killed the thing following Beldin which he described as a big eye with bat wings. The fat priest told Beldin that Ilmater wanted the mage to run down the gravelly road outside the tower in his bare feet in compensation for the spell. I volunteered to go along as this thing pestering Beldin had been found in one of my old books and I felt guilty. Our feet were bloody messes by the time we were done and I ended up half carrying the mage so he would not keep passing out. Despite this, Beldin continued to be highly agitated for weeks and kept me out of the library altogether.

Through the spring we kept in close contact with Lord Morn and learned of Zhent movements South of Snowmantle, the disappearance of a patrol in the Desertsmouth mountains. They appeared to have been killed elsewhere and dragged away to be buried in shallow graves. Parts of the soldiers bodies and gear had apparently been disintegrated. If it was the Zhent beholder corps, they had human support, as the bodies had clearly been buried by humans.

Lord Morn and I discussed our recent adventures in Wildspace and the Phlogostin a great deal. He was intrigued by the notions of flying ships through the void between stars. He seemed less interested in traveling there himself and more interested in the strategic and political significance of what was to him, a whole new realm. I offered to work with him to find among his men, those with the interest and aptitude for spelljamming. We would train these troops as crew for the Hammer ship and the Small Jammer, thereby solving our problem of lack of crew and providing him with some trained spelljammers and ambassadors to new and very different places.

A few of us made a foray towards the Spiderhaunt woods in the company of High Priest and Morninglord Taebrin, an elderly priest from the temple of Lathander. We encountered a few of Lord Morn's Outriders during the days on the road. As we got closer to the forest, we encountered a strange magical cloaking effect that distorted our perceptions and left us miles from where we thought we were headed. We later learned from Lord Morn that the effect hides a village of Anathar's Dell and the entrance to the mines of the Brightblade dwarves. Morn told us the directions for entering the dell and that it was a good safe haven for harpers and others.

We eventually found our way to the edges of the Spiderhaunt woods only to find a dead ranger and a bloated horse. Taebrin raised the unfortunate woodsman and calmed him down enough to tell us his tale. It seems that he and 13 or 14 others were patrolling the area when they came across a contingent of an exiled Cormite royal house. The nobles were not supposed to be in the dale. They had petitioned Lord Morn for sanctuary after being exiled from Cormyr. He denied them but it appears from the ranger's story that they came anyway and threw in with the drow. When the ranger's patrol discovered the Cormites, they fled into the Spiderhaunt. The patrol chased into the woods and everything went to the Hells. Madrik, our new friend here was the only one to make it out of the woods (and he obviously did not make it very far.)

We brought Madrik back to Daggerfalls and reported to Lord Morn. At first he was astonished that the Silverstar's of Cormyr would defy his wishes and enter the dale when he denied them. Then he became furious that they would have taken up with drow and use the Spiderhaunt woods as a refuge.

Beldin finally started to ease up a little and allowed me back into the library after several rides. He had clearly relaxed when no more unpleasant surprises had shown up in the books I had shelved without his permission. I also sensed that he was happy with the time we were giving him for his studies. He had been edgy for months, complaining that we never gave him any time to catch up with learning new spells or studying how to use the magical items we found in our adventures. I think he was finally getting the time he wanted and it made him less whiny and much more pleasant.

By the end of Kythorn we were ready to mount another expedition into the Spiderhaunt woods with the full crew. Beldin was happy with the time he had to study. Myk had put aside his priestly vestments for a more stealthy outfit, and Egwene had started training as a bard. We were the same people as we were at the start of summer, but the skills of the company had changed dramatically.

30 Kythorn 1370 -- Giants in the Woods

Anathar's Dell was a pleasant place for those who know how to get there. It is mostly populated by humans and half elves. Giant hunting cats prowl about the outskirts of the area, protecting the sleepy little village. We stayed overnight in the very nice inn before heading into the woods nearby.

We had not gone far down the dark, narrow forest trail before we were ambushed by a troop of ugly, misshapen giants and cloaked bowmen. It was a confusing battle along the narrow trail. Troy charged off into the woods to engage the ambushers. He ran full tilt into a set of horrible bear traps that caused a great deal of grief for him. I summoned the power of "Windslicer" to cut down a pair of bowmen before tying into the giants that approached us.

Troy went down hard in the battle after being surrounded by giants and stuck in the leg-hold traps. Troy had been taunting the giants and getting them into a terrible frenzy. He even pulled one of the toothy traps off his foot, reset it and swung it round his head before smacking a giant with it in the chest. His next move was to yank it hard, tearing out gory gobbets of flesh and showering everyone in blood. I tried to help by blinding the last giant that seemed in a possessed fury. My glitterdust spell did not effect him and he stayed focused on the builder. A couple of healing arrows, given to me by Myk, helped Troy a little, but were not enough to keep him from being killed by the giant before someone could bring it down.

The Dwarf was able to use a spell off a scroll to raise Troy and we started to gather our group together and make a retreat. As we did, I noticed that the giants killed along the trail were starting to move again. They were rolling over and pushing themselves to their feet. The damn things were regenerating. I thought about how they looked with their reddish, warty skin and sunken eyes and thought that perhaps they looked a bit trollish. We fled the woods and headed for a safe camp. Troy was barely able to function. Several others were badly hurt. As night fell, we all had an eerie feeling that kept us pushing on toward Anathar's Dell.

The hunting cats spotted us as we approached the dell half way between midnight and dawn. A ranger met us and helped us get the wounded into the warm shelter of a large barn. We collapsed into a much needed rest.

1 Flamerule, 1370. Rest and Recovery

I awoke the next day just as food arrived. Two pretty serving girls from the inn brought over a huge breakfast. I felt almost whole just from smelling the odors coming off the fried potatoes and sausages, the steaming pot of tea, and the hot fried fritters filled with juicy chunks of apples that we drenched in sweet sticky syrup.

I ate until I could hold no more then fell asleep again under the care of one of the dell's quiet, reassuring healers. Moorgin came round later in the day, still injured himself. He prayed over me for a little while and his healing magic filled me with a warm glow. I opened my eyes during the healing prayer to find the dwarf's eyes closed and a serene look on his face. He is more calm while healing than sleeping. Much later I got up for a short stretch as the sun was lowering. Outside the barn a woodsman sat stroking a large cat. The cat stared at me with huge eyes that went to impossible depths. I noticed blood stained fur around her mouth and on her large paws. Owlbears, I was told softly when the woodsman noted my gaze. They followed us from the Spiderhaunt. The woodsman spoke in a hushed voice, rich with friendship and esteem. I apologized for leading trouble this way. The woodsman looked up from the deep hood on his dark cloak. A smile. A wide glint of teeth. No need, he said. I went back inside, well assured of our safety.

3 Flamerule, 1370. Sharantir's News Service

Before sunrise our friend Sharantir arrived and slipped inside with a bare whisper of sound. She greeted us with a warm round of hugs. It felt wonderful to hold her. She seemed a deep well of friendship. She looked at us with concern at first and then with relief as she saw that we were all well recovered from the recent battle. Only when she was assured of our return to health did she press us for news. We told her of the fearsome battle in the Spiderhaunt woods and described the huge foes we fought. She confirmed our speculation that there are such things as giant trolls that are capable of regeneration. We told her why we were headed into the woods. She had been briefed by Lord Morn about the possibility that the Silverstars made a very unfortunate choice when denied asylum in the dale.

Sharantir provided news of events from elsewhere. North of the Tesh, people of Snowmantle were moving southward and setting up camps. Independent traders were working the area, but the Rangers Three had suspicions that the Zhentarim had wormed their fingers of control into these "independent" caravans. Tension was high between factions in the Zhentarim. There was confusion and misinterpretations related to the Citadel of the Raven's support of Zhentil Keep during the siege. The leaders of the Keep sent ambassadors' heads back to the Citadel for lack of support before they learned that the relief forces, which had been sent, were ambushed and destroyed before they could arrive.

The Zhents have developed an alliance with a beast cult in the area. They are working together at the Flaming Fortress and the Temple in the Sky. The temple is the headquarters of the Beast Cult. The Zhentarim hold the Fortress where the chain anchors the Temple to the ground. The power base being established here is becoming a serious threat.

The ranger informed us that a huge force of evil sea creatures assaulted Waterdeep during a major festival. They destroyed much of the docks and waterfront district, sinking a huge number of ships that were in the harbor for the festival. After doing considerable damage to the harbor and the city, the sahaugin and other evil creatures were driven off. No one seems to know why the attack occurred.

We skirted the issue for a while, but it was clear that Sharantir and the Rangers Three wanted us to go deal with the Flaming Fortress and the beast cult while they took a stealthy approach to issues in the Spiderhaunt. We felt that they would likely have more success in infiltrating the forest to gather information than we would have with another assault on the giant trolls guarding the trail. We agreed to head north and Sharantir filled us in with what they knew about the Flaming Fortress.

The tower was huge, 300 feet on a side, with a big fire ring on top. The fire was used to signal the Citadel of the Raven in the event of an invading force. The tower was rebuilt by fire giants after it was destroyed years ago. The black stone tower has three main floors. It is thought to be garrisoned by a skeleton force along with several fire giants. There are four ballista at the corners of the tower and the crews are very fast. An ancient beholder nation formed the beast cult which has taken the Temple in the Sky. The Temple is linked to the fortress with a huge, quarter-mile long chain. It appears politically that the Zhentarim need the Cult right now a lot more than the cult needs the Zhents. Sharantir speculated that if we attacked the Zhents, the Cult might hesitate to send help. If we attacked the Cult, the Zhents would probably be eager to pitch in to assist their allies.

Acting quickly on Sharantir's information we left the dell for our tower to prepare an assault of the Flaming Fortress.

5 Flamerule, 1370 - Assault on the Flaming Fortress

We geared up the small jammer and flew low over the treetops, approaching the tower. Beldin made the ship invisible, so our short trip was uneventful. Myk used his invisibility ring and ring of wings to attempt a string cutting attack one of four ballista. It was unsuccessful, but we were able to land the invisible ship on the tower during the distraction. We leapt off the ship and into battle. I'm glad the tower was only garrisoned with a skeleton crew. It would have been very bad if they had been even more numerous. As it was, the troops were nearly overwhelming.

There were five crew (well-trained swordsmen) to each of the four ballista. Four absolutely terrifying fire giants, a wizard, an evil hero type warrior and several scattered swordsmen were also stationed on top of the tower. As we left the ship, the fire giants started throwing rocks. Troy raced off with his boots of speed while I got knocked on my butt by a huge thrown boulder. By the time I got up, the battle had become a sprawling, chaotic maelstrom. Black tentacles were erupting all over, grabbing the enemy in their crushing embrace. Giants were hurling boulders, Troy and Myk had engaged the mage/hero pair and our spell casters were nowhere to be seen. Hoping for the best, fearing the worst, I charged a giant, slipped into a battle rage and fought madly. I recall killing three of the giants and several swordsmen, finding myself at the end of the battle across the other side of the tower, back aboard the smalljammer fighting shoulder to shoulder with the drow. My sword lord powers worked very nicely on the Zhentillar swordsmen. It struck me, when battling them, that it had been a very long time since I faced an opponent with a sword.

It was not long though that my happy mood was ripped away. The "skeleton crew" was not our biggest problem. There was far more here all of a sudden than could reasonably be described as anything short of a fully supported garrison. I had battled my way back to the smalljammer but most of the party was still scattered across the top of the tower. Egwene leapt off the smalljammer, going after another foe just as the tide of the battle changed for the worst. A set of gray, blade-like images appeared around me and began to attack just as a handful of separate ice storms thundered down on my companions. More giants arrived from below. A cloud of giant wasps appeared out of thin air and attacked me. I looked about frantically for the invisible mages I knew to be near. Unfortunately, I could see nothing amid the buzzing wasps and the slashing gray blades until the form of Manshoon coalesced in the air above the tower.

"These are the Eight and a Half!" He shouted. "They have foiled many of our plans. Destroy them with extreme prejudice!"

I fought a desperate fight. The battle raged for a few more moments while I cleared away the last wasp and took a quick look around. The sight depressed me enormously. I did not see a single one of my companions still on his feet. Instead, there were giant hornets, salamanders, fire giants, and the still unseen mages. Without warning, a sickening, crackling wave of magic burst out from somewhere inside the small jammer. It was a very wrong feeling, but there was nothing I could do. It sliced through the magic resistance afforded by Spellward and left him plain, colorless and dead. I felt magic drain away from nearly every thing I had about me.

I stood on the deck of the smalljammer facing a mageling who was pointing a wand and a sneer at me. I sheathed the Sword of the Dales and dropped my weapons to the floor. The little puppy in front of me pursued his infantile fantasy of punching me into unconsciousness. I had been beaten too many times to make a mistake and give the mageling any excuse to kill me because of some small resistance. As I dropped my weapons, my objectives shifted in a brutal abandonment of everything I had hoped to accomplish here. Now my goal was survival. I began looking for anything that might give us a chance to escape this terrible tower. I faded in and out of consciousness and feared that I might miss some slim opportunity if it came my way.

I came to a groggy awareness with a realization that my hands were manacled above me and my eyes were swollen shut, sticky with dried blood. Something dreadful and cold was hung around my neck and sat against my skin. Two figures were before us. Two figures and a frightening blue crystal. The crystal sparked and glowed with a dangerous fire. The smaller of the two figures suddenly plunged a dagger into the back of the other. I reached for the Sword of the Dales, calling it to me. I felt it, but it could not come to me. It was held somehow. I felt it want to come, but it could not. Something was there though. Some part of the Sword came through and I lashed out in a sword cut fashioned of pure will. The spirit of the Sword of the Dales merged with my spirit and focus in an attack against the crystal. I felt the sword in my hand. Felt it connect with the crystal and then a terrible explosion.

The explosion filled my entire being with a searing white fire that tore flesh from bone and sucked the marrow from what was left. My dry bones turned to ash and blew away.

I awoke with my back against the rough bark of a tree. I liked the tree. The tree was not hitting me. I thought the Sword of the Dales sat on my lap, but when I cracked one bleary eye to see why it was so light, I realized that only the memory of the weapon was with me. Closing the bruised eye, I focused my will toward the sword, seeking to touch it and bring it to me once again. Despite my efforts, there was nothing to touch. It was gone.

I drifted in and out for a while. I know not how long I was out. When I next woke I realized that my companions were here with me in a forest glade. None of us was in much better shape than I. Troy was missing. I fear he went down swinging, refusing to surrender even if it cost him his life. Thirst kept me awake for a time. Myk had made his way to a tiny stream that trickled nearby. I stumbled to the stream and sucked in the cool water through broken and bloodied lips. The cool water eased some of the pain and provided a little more clarity. I walked back to my friend the tree, only then noticing that I was naked. Night came on and I slept again.

Dozing off and waking through the night I watched the night sky change as the night wore on. Unfamiliar stars whirled overhead. A moon rose and soared above. It was not my moon. The Tears of Selûne were missing. The size of the moon was wrong. Perhaps if I had not spent time spelljamming this would have disoriented me. As it was, it simply seemed like I was on a journey away (but not too far away) from home.

Day Two, elsewhere.

Waking at dawn, energy low, our group started getting a little restless. We started scouting around our immediate surroundings. We found a low hill and climbed some old, gnarly oak trees to look around. There was a lot of forest around us. Off in the distance we spotted a square shape on the landscape that might be a cultivated field. It was downstream from our little rivulet and it appeared as though a river might run through the valley where the square shape lived.

Near sunset our slow-moving group approached a stone bridge crossing the river and a stone cottage at the edge of the field. A windmill across the river completed the idyllic scene. A quietness about the place gave an eerie feel to the area so we stayed in the forest while Myk scouted ahead. When he came back with his report, we learned that river side vegetation had been trampled near the bridge. The door to the cottage had been broken down and dead bodies lay scattered all over.

There were a few bodies of the recently deceased, a woman in a white dress, badly stained with too much blood. Two small girls near the woman. It was hard to look at these small bodies through the tears that began to well up in my eyes. The poor kids were horribly mutilated. Further into to the cottage there were gray corpses of long dead people. Zombie bodies surrounded the body of a single man who had died fighting. He did well, but not well enough to protect his poor family. Nothing else in the cottage was disturbed. In a brief search we discovered that the fallen warrior had been awarded a medal of honor from King Alric. It appeared that others knew of this man's abilities. I wondered if that made him a target of particular interest to whomever animated these corpses or if this horrible setting was the result of less thoughtful evil. There was no telling from the few clues that we could uncover.

Feeling ill at ease with it all, we found some clothes to cover our nakedness and weapons to defend ourselves. Beldin examined the corpses and confirmed that the gray bodies had been undead. He added, though, that the nature of the weave that brought animation to these dead ones showed traces of a sophistication and mastery that was unexpectedly high. His comment served to warn us that zombies we may encounter here could well be more powerful than others we have encountered. We were able to find a little fishing gear, some fresh eggs from a few terrified chickens, a little fresh bread and cheese, and plenty of unmilled grain. There was enough food to fill our shrunken bellies and still have some left over for our inevitable journey tomorrow. We vacated the cottage and spent the night sleeping nervously in the windmill. Fortunately, more zombies did not arrive in the night and we enjoyed a quiet night of rest.

Day three elsewhere.

In the morning Egwene and Myk wanted to drag all the bodies into the cottage and burn the structure. I opposed this plan immediately. I thought it terribly arrogant to take such action without knowing anything about these people or this place where we now found ourselves. Instead, I found a shovel and dug four graves. Two were heartbreakingly small. We buried the family in these graves and Father Mayi whined a few words over them.

In a foolish moment, when offered the single long sword recovered from the cottage, I chose to take up a battle axe instead. I thought it was a tribute to the spirit of my lost friend Troy. In a blur of tears and sadness we left the little farm, heading up the valley, moving on to whatever would come next.

Hours later, I finally came out of my funk, and realized that we were traveling aimlessly up the river valley rather than down. About the same time I came to this understanding, we spotted several of the grayish zombies headed toward us. These seemed similar to the ones in the cottage in their appearance. There were a large number of them and we were poorly prepared for battle. Besides, they were really slow. So, we turned and high tailed it back down the river valley. You always go downstream when you are lost and don't know where to go. Either stay put or go downstream. We have got to start focusing on the fundamentals here!

It took us three hours to make it back to the cottage, site of the zombie massacre. Just as we were getting near, a troop of soldiers in blue and white tabards appeared, coming up the road. We were commanded to hold and the captain began to question us. It was an interesting experience. Here we were, innocent of any real wrongdoing (I did not count taking the dead man's clothes and weapons as wrong doing.) But it was difficult, at best, to convince the Captain that the bizarre circumstances of our appearance here were not the result of an evil plot. (At least I hope they are not. Sometimes I wonder. It is best not to get too paranoid though.) (I hope.)

Just as our explanations were starting to sound hollow and unconvincing, a huge, burly man came walking up the road. He was clad in a bearskin coat and carrying a big shovel. Great big plates of metal hung round his neck from rough ropes. Surprisingly, he claimed to know us. Fortunately, he did not seem to think we were the bad guys and told the Captain that we were under his charge. The Captain deferred, with quite a bit of respect, to the man he alternately called Twelve Eagle Falling Sun and "Journeyman." The big man reported to the Captain about a series of cities recently lost in the war. Without knowing the strategic importance of the places he named, I could not be certain. The reaction of the Captain suggested that this was grave and unwelcome news, if not unexpected.

Twelve Eagle Falling Sun began to lead us away, and the soldiers prepared to head up the valley. We warned them of the zombies we encountered and they took the news very seriously. The Captain called the things "Thrall" and the warriors loosened their weapons and readied their shields. They began to look like trained fighters at war rather than troopers at ease.

We followed the Journeyman off the trail and back into the forest along a slightly different route than we used to approach the cottage. The big man was not a talker. Neither was he one for frequent rest stops. He would forge along with a rhythmic, mile-eating pace that neither slowed down nor sped up. We had to work to get him to take a rest break to allow some of the group such as the frail Beldin, to take a brief rest. He did not seem to be disdainful of those who could not keep up with his pace, just unaware.

During one of these rare rest breaks, we learned that Twelve Eagle Falling Sun had found us in the forest glade more than a month ago. We were protected somehow in a magical stasis field that also kept the Journeyman from doing anything with us. He had done a bit of investigating that led him to conclude that we were not a part of the enemy's force. He also discovered that the rift responsible for bringing us here was not a unique event. He had found another that we would meet later.

Along the way we encountered a small band of thrall hovering over a pair of recently killed farmers. We destroyed the foul creations, but they were horrifying. Myk had again offered me the long sword taken from the cottage and this time I took it and put it to use against the thrall. As soon as they spotted us, I found a couple of very large rocks to hurl at them. The evil things should have fallen long before they reached us. Somehow, despite the kind of damage that would have killed a person or destroyed a regular zombie, the foul undead monsters just kept on coming at us. We had to hack them to bits before they gave up and returned to death.

Father Mayi, injured in the battle, was healed by Twelve Eagle Falling Sun. I took a small wound and was healed by the corpulent priest of Ilmater. There was nothing we could do for the two victims of the thrall. They appeared to have been farmers, helpless against the powerful thrall. As we sat resting, allowing the spell casters to recover from and unexpected weariness that came from casting their spells during the battle, The Journeyman filled us in on a few more aspects of the war. Sixty years ago King Alric fought against the forces of darkness, killing Balor, most powerful of the fallen lords. The fallen lords Soulblighter, Deceiver, and Shiver had also risen. We learned that here in this land called Myth, the forces of darkness rise in power over the course of history until they are destroyed by the forces of light. Every thousand years the power shifts again. Twelve Eagle Falling Sun told us that the title of "Journeyman" was a title of shame from those days a thousand years ago.

By evening Twelve Eagle Falling Sun had led us up a small canyon and into a narrow crevice and a cavern beyond. With a comment about being hopeful we were being honest, The big man disappeared into the cave. We followed. In we went, past rows of warrior statues on pedestals. The warriors held curving swords and were ornamented on their armor and shields with herons. Bas-relief carvings of herons adorned the walls. In a chamber further on, a suit of fine armor stood in a place of honor along with a pair of beautiful curving swords. Twelve Eagle Falling Sun greeted us and we learned that if we had not been truthful, our passage past the warrior statues would not have been so uneventful. Here we learned that the man was a member of the Heron Guard, the elite of the elite, the Royal Guard of the ancient Cath Bruig Empire. The failure of the Heron Guard a thousand years ago sent all the guard off in shame each to become a Journeyman, wandering the land with a shovel, tool of a humble man, in place of the fine swords they once claimed as their true weapons.

Twelve Eagle Falling Sun introduced us to another traveler from Toril that came here through a rift as we did. Jander, an elven mage from the fabled land of Evermeet arrived here recently. A local master of the great sword also joined us in our dinner with the Journeyman. All of us made a grateful trip to a storeroom and armory. I found a well balanced longsword, a nice bow, and a suit of leather armor that fit quite well.

Day Four in the land of Myth.

We awoke in Twelve Eagle Falling Sun's stronghold and broke our fast on plain oatmeal. The food and hospitality was welcome, but it would have been nice to have a little maple syrup, butter and cream to put on the oatmeal. Myk started giving me grief, suggesting I stick my foot in the oatmeal. What a silly man. He just doesn't get it.

In the morning, Twelve Eagle Falling Sun joined us and asked us to help him with a mission he had. He needed to recover an artifact for the King and would like our help. We agreed, of course, and thanked him for his hospitality and trust in us. The first thing he did was to take us out to the stream to collect mandrake roots. He then taught us how to use the roots for healing. It was an interesting lesson. The ideas behind the healing skills were not, apparently, too much different from what we would have learned on Toril. It seemed to rely on a deeper connection or understanding of the underlying principles of magical energies though.

Our mission commander then set off with his familiar, inexhaustible gait, taking us miles from breakfast before we had a chance to look about the countryside. It seemed we had hardly set out before we ran across a trio of unfamiliar monsters called Ghols. They were living creatures with a rapid, loping gait. They spotted us only after getting hit by a ball of fire cast by our elven companion from Evermeet. One did not survive the charge. Another made the mistake of attacking one of my companions with a wild, leaping sword attack. As I gutted the other, I extended the force of my spirit to push the sword wielder's weapon to the ground. Since the beast was in the air with this sword raised high over his head and behind him at the time, the thing flipped head over heels and landed flat on his back where he was a fine target and quickly dealt with.

We lunched by another stream and learned that our journey would require the use of a World Knot, a place where two distant places are magically close together. Long ago, titanic magical battles had twisted realities in places. There are many of these world knots. Many are in disrepair. While there have been no new ones in recent times, we learned that the dwarves can sometimes repair these World Knots.

We found the knot to be a set of three stone fingers that reach up and almost touch each other at the top. With a quickly spoken word, our leader walked into the knot and disappeared. We all followed him into the stonework. The air became hazy with white motes. There was a hissing lightness and suddenly I was elsewhere.

It was a smelly and rather gory elsewhere. There were pieces of bodies everywhere and the coppery tang of fresh blood was heavy in the air. There were sounds of booming in the distance. Eighty yards away there were three hovering figures. Twelve Eagle Falling Sun alerted us to the identity of the Fetch now facing us. They not only faced us, but that despite our immediate attacks, as directed by the Journeyman, they all cast spells at us. Each of them directed an explosive lightning bolt at us. They stayed off at a distance, casting these spells at us. We replied with spells and arrows. Our new friend with the two-handed sword was also skilled with a crossbow. He put it to good use and got credit for the first of the fetch to fall. We were able to kill the others only after they did a considerable amount of painful damage with their lightning.

Hanging from the branches of the trees all around were sheets of bright silk. Hanging from one of these was a dwarf. He was slightly built for a dwarf, light and short. He was also unconscious, but alive. We got him out of the tree and woke him up. He, Gilling, and Twelve Eagle Falling Sun had a cryptic conversation about dropping below Shiver's eastern army, dropping satchel charges and dwarven sky ships. We gathered that these dwarves jump from flying ships using the silken sheets to keep them from falling too swiftly. I wondered if they would be of any use to a crew of spelljammers. Twelve Eagle Falling Sun asked Gelling, since his mission was unachievable with the missed jump, if he would help with a mission under Royal Orders from the King. Gelling was suspicious and asked to see the orders for this mission. After reading the scroll given to him by the Journeyman, the dwarf seemed greatly impressed and agreed to follow Twelve Eagle Falling Sun's orders. With a little bit of salvage and packing up a back pack full of explosive charges, the dwarf was ready to move out.

Our spell casters were exhausted after the short battle with the fetch. An unusual fatigue affected them when they used their spells here. I asked and got approval from Twelve Eagle Falling Sun to find a place to allow us to rest. The man knew this area well and led us to a place where they would recover quickly. It was the site of an old battle and some of the magical energy still lingered. It would be refreshing to our "warlocks." As dusk began to fall, he led us off the road and into the quiet hills, damp and muffled with creeping fog that softened the edges of the oaks and elms that grew across the hills in scattered groves. He took us between standing stones carved with runes that Beldin confirmed held residual magic from long ago. Deeper into the standing stones, ruins of some ancient place, Twelve Eagle Falling Sun stopped abruptly at the sound of a humming "wooosh." Appearing before us were a dozen people clothed in black robes, trimmed with yellow and gold. Each held a staff and their fingers glittered with many rings. One, full of ego and mockery tried to provoke our companion into a scuffle. It became clear quite quickly that these warlocks were the minions of the Deceiver with whom King Alric had recently formed and alliance. Despite this alliance, they tried provoking the "Journeyman" (a term they used with scorn and contempt) into a fight. An altercation was avoided, but only after the Deceiver's men had forced a humble acknowledgment of his unworthiness out of our friend. I wanted to growl at them. In the end, the 12 shared the night in the resting place with us and told the Journeyman that they would be sending one of their number with us to see that the former Heron Guard fulfilled his vows.

The one to remain was Caithim of the Ermine Forest, a human warlock with a black goatee and mustache. He seemed pleasant enough, if very arrogant, once away from Twelve Eagle Falling Sun. I could not stand to listen to him after the way he treated our friend, but, in an effort to learn about this new place, I forced myself to engage the warlock in polite conversation. Between what we could get from Caithim and what Myk pried out of Gelling, we were able to piece a few things together. From what we could understand, a thousand years ago, during the last cycle, the Heron Guard (then a force of 100 elite soldiers) were sent by the emperor on a mission. While they were away, the capitol fell. The Heron Guard had been betrayed by the Deceiver. Because of their failure to protect the emperor, the Guard took off their armor, put down their swords, put gold plates from the palace around their necks as penance, and disbanded. Each went into the wilderness. Those that survived the task of killing a bear and making a robe of its hide, took up a shovel and began the wandering life of a Journeyman. In all of this tale, there was woven an underlying assumption that the cycle of darkness and light rising and falling from power was an inevitable thread of existence. I questioned this underlying assumption and discovered that neither Twelve Eagle Falling Sun, nor Caithim knew if the cycle could or should be altered. King Alric seemed to think it was time for a change, though. Sixty years ago he prevented the tides of darkness from rolling over his kingdom despite those who said that the time for the risen darkness had come. The king did not believe it and fought the forces of evil. Because this event was so unheard of, no one knows for certain just what would happen next.

Day 5 in Myth

We learned from Caithim that warlocks here store spell energy in their staves, in wands, and in mana stones. The mage gave Beldin a wand to use in this way. On our journey today we encountered a group of ghôls and thrall. We engaged them in an explosive battle. Gilling launched one of his exploding packets at a ghôl and blew it to bits. Caithim cast a huge fireball with little apparent effort but great result. I fought the sword-wielding ghôls with some success as well. Afterward, I examined the strange weapons carried by these creatures. They were rudely made of bone and a red-tinted steel. Hardly worth the bother of carrying as a souvenir.

Later in the day we entered the Ermine Forest, a big dark wood of ancient oaks and elms. Almost at once we were met by a tall warrior, a representative of the Fierbolgs that are caretakers of this forest. He offered Twelve Eagle Falling Sun the possibility for an accident to happen in the forest to relieve him of the burden of traveling with Caithim. Our guide politely declined the offer. Instead, the huge man took us to a camp he and his fellows had in the forest. We walked for a couple of hours through the huge old trees until we reached a camp of a few tents. It was obvious that many more tents were set here not long ago. We spent a companionable evening with the fierbolgs, learning that they were all master archers and often trained legionnaires sent by the King.

Late that evening, Twelve Eagle Falling Sun filled us in on the details of our mission. Soulblighter, one of the Fallen Lords fighting against the forces of Light, had raised a powerful army. Among them was a Lieutennant known as Shiver. She was once a great archmage. Now she and Soulblighter were working to raise another of the Fallen Lords. King Alric recently found the location of the tomb of Sunder, the other Fallen Lord. Our task was to reach the tomb and destroy the remains of Sunder before Shiver could get there. To aid in the task of destroying Sunder, the fierbolg leader gave us a long sword that shed sparks as he drew it from its sheath. He struck a piece of split wood with the weapon and flames leapt from the blade and ignited the wood.

From the fierbolgs we also received a "heart oak" harp to inspire the companions, and a "token of ancestral knowledge," an aid to archers.

Day 6 in Myth

Early the next morning we left the fierbolgs, taking another world knot toward our destination. We arrived just outside a ruined fortification set in the side of a hill. Approaching the crypt were columns of thrall, and clusters of ghôls. We sprinted for the fortification, getting there just ahead of the army of darkness. Caithim and Gilling were busy creating devastating explosions, trying to blast the enemy before they reached us. They did well, but Caithim was heard to call out to Twelve Eagle Falling Sun, (actually using his name in respect for the first time) that there were "enhanced" thrall coming against us.

Also appearing in the enemy ranks were floating skeletal torsos. These evil foes were javelin throwers. We learned later that the javelins were tipped with a deadly poison. Rumbling out of the mists, the evil horde was joined by what Caithim called wights. These differed from the wights I was familiar with as they were bloated corpses that appeared to be animated bodies of the drowned. A terrible characteristic of these Mythan wights was that when destroyed, or turned by a priest, they exploded in a devastating burst of gore and fiery death. During the battle, a few fetch, throwing their explosive lighting showed up along with a gigantic, fearsome juggernaut of a monster called a maul.

When we reached the ruined fortification, we took defensive positions in the broken gaps in the wall. Fortunately for us, much of the wall still stood and was too high for the enemy to easily scale. Beldin cast a silvery gray sphere of protection around us that served to make it difficult for the undead to enter. It was not a perfect barrier though and almost immediately we were fully engaged by the enemy. While most of us fought to defend the tomb entrance, Twelve Eagle Falling Sun and Myk went for the door of the crypt and soon disappeared into the earth. I prayed that they would hurry as the numbers arrayed against us seemed overwhelming. Even if we were able to hold them off, I feared that they would pin us in this stronghold until endless numbers wore us down. Gilling, caught outside the defenses while setting his explosives, died with a ghôl sword cleaving through his skull. Caithim fell to a poisoned javelin thrown by a soulless, one of the floating skeletons. Late in the battle I rushed from my position at a gap in the side wall to charge the maul that was pounding Joram, the two-handed sword master from Toril. As I did, I set myself up as a target for fetch lightning attacks. Even so, I was able to stun the maul for a moment with a powerful attack from the sword of fire. I ran back to my position to get some healing magic as Joram finished off the maul.

Finally, Myk came racing out of the crypt, calling for us to retreat into the hillside. I though he was mad as we would surely be trapped in an inescapable position there. There was no time to argue, so in we went. Our retreat began just as Shiver arrived. She was a nightmare come to exact vengeance. We ran into the dark tomb with renewed vigor. Inside, Myk led us deeper through the twisting passages until we reached a room where Twelve Eagle Falling Sun was just pushing the lid off a dusty stone sarcophagus. As he did, a chilling black skeleton erupted out of its resting place and attacked us.

Sunder attacked with chilling talons, sharp fangs, and a frightening black wedge-shaped magical force that seemed to want to rip one's shadow away from his corporeal self. Beldin ensorcelled the door against the horde of evil just outside the room as we fought against Sunder. I was able to get in a killing stroke with the fire sword, setting the shattered bones of the undead creature on fire. The Journeyman threw something onto the bones that caused the fire to leap up and burn with an intense flame. He made sure Sunder was not going to rise again and shouted at us over the crackling flames. He and Myk had discovered a secret escape tunnel. The Journeyman quickly led the way out of the crypt, making a bee-line for the world knot. I followed immediately. Myk and Egwene lagged behind, scrambling for treasure that glinted in the bottom of the sarcophagus. I just ran for my life.

We exited the crypt with the world knot in sight. Father Mayi ran for all he was worth, his huge, fat body making the task of moving at speed almost impossible. His pudgy lips were moving in prayer as I passed him. Twelve Eagle Falling Sun was saying the activation word for the knot before we even reached the gate. Shiver appeared at the top of a hill, her huge maw split in a fanged grin. Suddenly great purple blotches appeared all around us and exploded. Battered and burned, we ran on. By the time we reached the world knot, Twelve Eagle Falling Sun had the thing activated and we were through.

On the other side we waited with sinking hope. Myk and Egwene were still not through. As the last of the twinkling motes that lit an active world knot faded, they both burst through, their clothes smoking and their bodies burnt. Myk grinned, holding up two fist-fulls of gems and jewelry. I smiled but shook my head. The Journeyman's expression hardly changed. I could almost hear him thinking that he knew all too well the weight of treasure that dragged on his every step. The weight of the gold plates he wore around his neck was ten or a hundred times the value of Myk's jewels. He said nothing. He just turned and fell into his mile churning walk, headed onward. We followed close behind, wondering what was to happen next.

Out of the Crypt and into the Sea - Adventures elsewhere chapter two.

We found ourselves suddenly under water. It was a bright, warm, salty water. I quickly dropped the gear I was carrying and looked around. Joram was struggling. Thrashing and going down, refusing to let go of his big two-handed sword. I swam over to him got a rescue grip on him and started for the silvery surface. Fortunately it was close by and Joram did not fight me. Myk had gone after Father Mayi. Everyone else seemed to be able to swim well enough. Beldin was up above, flying over the surface of the sea. He quickly cast another spell, aiming to conjure up some help. Unfortunately, his spell went very wrong. Instead of summoning dolphins as was his intent, shadowy creatures started to form. They coalesced in a violent surge and began to attack the flying wizard. I tried to help, but feared to release Joram. The shadow creature attacked with an acid touch, and I began to wonder if my weapon would be effective against the thing. Beldin, thinking quickly, cast a dispel magic enchantment and the thing was gone.

The sea calmed a bit and we could see that we had arrived just offshore of a tropical island. We swam for the beach and took stock. The island was surrounded by a huge coral reef that was perhaps 25 feet deep on average. The water was very clear and we could see the remains of a shattered ship nearby. There were recent burn marks and lots of debris, but no bodies. Beldin cast a fly spell on me and we explored around a bit. Half of a spelljamming helm sat on the sea floor. A huge crystal structure lay nearby. It looked like the eye port of a tradesman type spelljamming ship.

The debris showed evidence of damage from being dissolved, perhaps by the acid of the shadow creature. A scrap of cloth turned out to be the flag of the ship. It showed the symbol of the Tenth Pit slavers consortium.

Coming back to the beach, we found the rest of the group drying things out. We flew out to our arrival spot and recovered the gear we dumped to the bottom. This too we laid out to dry in the sun. Somebody went to the edge of the jungle where melons were growing in the trees. We got a surprise when the 'melons' turned out to be sap sucking creatures that were all too happy to switch to trying to feed on us. They rolled out of the trees and were on us with amazing speed. There were more than a dozen of the beasts. Following the battle, we cooked the melon creatures for supper. They were tasty. Our camp got moved after the battle when we found a nice fresh water stream nearby.

Day 2 in the Tropics

We cleaned up our gear and went back out to explore the wreckage of the ship. A locker filled with survival gear was our best find. The severed torso of a hadoze crewman was one of the most gruesome. A crab-clawed shark came along as we were exploring so we quickly hauled our salvage back to the shore for lunch, keeping out of the predator's way.

Opening up the locker we found a diary, a metal canister with survival gear, a lodestone direction finding device, a magical device called a Decanter of Endless Water, 3 healing potions, and a little shrine to the God of Suffering. The shrine was a great find since Father Mayi could use it to contact his God even in spheres far from home. The diary told us that the ship had been the site of a mutiny by the slaves of the Tenth Pit. The hadoze and other slaves overpowered the slavers and escaped to "Merspace." The were in orbit above the tropical water world when they saw other spelljammers around the two moons. There the diary ended.

Day 3, Merspace

Our supply of food, enhanced by the rations in the ship's locker (and the melon creatures) fed us well and we spent a relaxing day on the beautiful, sunny beach. I wove together a couple of leaves as a hat to shade my eyes and as I was doing this, I discovered the tanned face of a little savage man gazing out at me, a leaf hat sitting on his head. We traded hats, then traded back. I offered some cooked melon beast to him and he took off running, obviously afraid of the creature. He ran down the beach and then across the water to a rock. When he reached it he picked up a harpoon and shook it at us. Our group had followed him, hoping to get some information from the fellow. He did not want us to approach, though and hauled on a line that opened a hatch in the rock. It was not a rock but a submerged sea craft. A giant metal crab claw came up and pulled up a folding metal walkway that had lain just under the water. We did not see the fellow again that day.

The savage had obviously been here a while. As we were chasing him, we were stopped short by a field of sharpened wooden stakes laboriously driven into the sand of the beach. As we made our way carefully through the stakes, we could see that the field continued down the beach and on under the water toward the submerged vessel where the savage hid. We heard the thumping of melon beasts in the jungle as dusk came on. We worked our way to the far side of the stake field as the sky darkened further and night came on. Ahead we spotted driftwood piled up by the waves. We thought it would make a great source of fuel for an evening campfire. As we approached, though, the pile of wood attacked us. I was directly in front of the creature that looked like a pile of wood. It gave me a severe mauling as I hacked at it with Sunderer. My sword lit the creature on fire wherever it struck, but the thing was too massive to be brought down quickly. I was pinned under the huge monster before my companions were able to kill it. While they were digging me out from under the woody corpse, we found a buried treasure chest. Just like in the old pirate stories! The chest contained bone daggers and 6 pearls.

The monster, still on fire from the battle, turned out to indeed be a good source of fuel. It burned like dry wood. The smoke had just a bit of a grilled fish smell to it, but it was not unpleasant.

Day 4, Merspace

The old savage woke us in the morning with shouting and dancing. He was out on the seaward side of his fort with a spear. He caught a tentacled animal and pulled it in, obviously planning on having it for breakfast. Myk, shouting from the shore got the wild man's attention and had something like a conversation with him. I suspect the old man was more than a little daft. Myk did learn a few useful tidbits of information. The melon creatures were called ponness. The driftwood monster was a blight. Past the ridge and inland was a city called Jandatown. Everybody lives in the town. Myk also learned to be wary of a firearm built with a lizard inside a glass bottle. The savage whipped the gun out and a cloud of gas hit Myk and he went down almost instantly. We ran to him as the savage scampered away with a bit of food. Myk was unconscious for several minutes before we could rouse him. He was none the worse for wear, but we all learned to watch out for the lizards in the glass jar.

With the approximate location of Jandatown, the only settlement we knew anything about, we opted for a direct approach. I was somewhat reluctant to leave the beach here. I realized that the relaxed life of a beachcomber on an isolated stretch of sand appealed to me.

Beldin cast several spells allowing us all to take to the sky and fly toward Jandatown. We ascended to the top of the trees and sped off toward the location where the savage had pointed. As we gained some altitude, the center of the island dropped away into a huge deep valley. It went down more than a half mile. I gazed around in wonder, for the bottom of the valley was far below sea level. I had never seen anything like this before. Why didn't the sea rush in to fill the valley? Obviously something prevented that, because the valley was filled with the dark, lush greenery of a tropical jungle. Far across the valley lay a distant ridge. We cut across the valley as the land fell away below.

As we should of expected, there were predators of the air in this land of Mer. As we flew, we spotted distant flying things cutting across the valley on an intercept course. As they approached at great speed, we saw that they were dragonish sorts of creatures. They were a beautiful green color and some of them were wearing saddles. They did not have riders that we could see. We dove for the jungle below, seeking cover. We did not want to engage these things. It was impossible to tell how powerful they were, but their numbers alone argued against a battle. As we sped low over the treetops, we spotted a cave that looked promising. We hit the ground running, followed closely by the reptiles. Into the cave we ran. It narrowed to a crack and we all squeezed through, pushing and pulling the bulky priest along with us. He suffered a lot of scraping and lost a lot of skin to get him through a particularly narrow spot, but he, of course, took it in stride.

The dragon-like creatures followed us into the cave for quite a while. They only gave up after we passed through a very narrow, twisting crevice that almost stopped Father Mayi. Ahead we could hear moving water and we pushed on. The crevice opened into a larger chamber where we found three torches alight on a ship moored at a dock on a subterranean river. On the dock were 7 foot tall white humanoid creatures armed with oddly designed hand bows. The bows were trained on us and we became "guests" of the Antari Empire. Our weapons were surrendered to be placed in a huge chest. Joram, unwilling to part from his sword, also went into the chest. It was hauled off to be stowed aboard the ship. We boarded under guard and cast off down the unlit river.

Our subterranean river voyage ended at an elegant city, deep underground. The docks were busy, filled with large ships. Unlike most ports, though, where sailors from dozens of races mixed, the crews and dock workers were Antari and only Antari. This realization made me nervous. We were taken to separate rooms each with a guard. Here I was given water and fry bread and left alone in a spartan cell.

I next came to consciousness with an awareness that I was being held up and on my feet by strong Antari hands. I was groggy with the after effects of a drug that knocked me out. It felt a lot like the muzzy headed result of a morning after too much drink. Only there was no pounding headache today. I could see some of my companions nearby. In front of us was a large desk on a dias. The air was cool with the stuffy smell of underground, spiced with the flavor of the river on which we arrived. I darted a glance around and saw that some of my friends, including Beldin, were missing.

An Antari lifted my head and swabbed something sharp tasting and intensely sour across my tongue. Instantly the muzziness lifted and I felt fresh and revived. I noticed that the guards, appeared strong and a little youthful compared to the man at the desk. He looked to be in the later stages of the prime of his life. If this meant he was 40 or 400 years old, I could not tell. He was clearly used to being in charge, with an aura of command about him. He held a staff with leaves growing along its length, but he was no old man leaning on a staff for support.

He began by telling us that the penalty for trespass in the kingdom of the Antari is death. However, our arrival could provide the Antari with a useful tool. Four of us would be freed to rescue a scouting party of Antari that had been captured by surface dwellers. The others would be kept here to ensure that we would complete our mission and return. If we succeeded, we would all be freed..

Then things started to go badly. Egwene began to question the intent of the Antari and their way of life. Her intent was to ensure that we were not used as tools of evil, but she went about it badly and ended up insulting our 'hosts.' I tried to explain that the questions only came from our sense of responsibility for the results of our choices and actions. Egwene was nearly killed on the spot for her insults. Just as I thought all was lost, the awful proceedings were interrupted by a very tan human man dressed in a kilt and adorned with a necklace of shark teeth. He was an old man, wiry with muscles that had seen many years of use.

He looked around and sniffed the air. He approached each of us in turn and gazed deeply in our eyes before moving on to the next. The leader of the Antari was still and patient through the silent interval while the tan old man examined us. Finally he turned and spoke to the leader.

"My Lord, these people are not spies, but Outworlders," he said. Pausing for a moment, the man turned and looked at us again. Egwene remained on her knees, pinned to the ground by the guards, a sword at her throat. He turned back to the Antari Lord and went on, "I wish to invoke the right of 'Ostennieus'!"

There was a moment of shocked stillness as the guards looked at the leader in disbelief. The tan man stood a little taller and the leader stared for a long moment before making the barest of nods. Immediately the guards helped Egwene to her feet with a sudden and genuine gentleness and respect. The leader gave us one more intense look and turned us over to the human and sent us away.

We learned that our new guide/guardian/translator was called Moquar. From him we discovered that the Antari have sole dominion over the underworld. It was here that they retreated after years of warfare. To protect their realm, the Antari enforced a strict law. To trespass in the domain of the Antari means death. They have become extreme isolationists. The skin and hair of the Antari has become white over the centuries since they retreated underground. They believed that their culture would die if other cultures and beliefs bled away the purity of the Antari way of life. The Antari are well known for their honor and how they keep their word so we felt a little more confidant that should we successfully complete our mission, our companions would be freed.

The particulars of the mission would be revealed to us as we got closer to our objective. For now all we needed to know is that there were six Antari scouts that needed to be rescued.

We set out aboard an Antari war galley. It was a lovely ship, complete with a submerged ram and full sails on a hinged mast. The galley was crewed by Antari rowers. I checked quickly but found no chains. I felt a release of tension that I had previously been unaware of holding. I was even more pleased to be audience to a marvelous concert. The Antari began to hum. The rowers were not slaves, they had no one whipping them, they didn't even have a drummer. They hummed. The deep hum started low from all of the rowers at once. I hadn't even noticed a signal. The rhythm of the song started out slowly as the rowers dug in and the ship started off. It got more complex and faster as the ship sped up. I sat in the middle of the rowers, eyes closed, listening intently and feeling the wooden spirit of the boat respond to the song.

We sailed for hours on the dark river while Moquor slept. Eventually we came to another dock. We stopped and our guide took us up a long, steep slope to a cleverly hidden secret door. On the other side we found a new boat and a new level of water. We piled into the boat and this time there were no Antari. We sailed the boat (this time a 50' vessel with a wing-shaped sail that handled like a sloop) out toward a patch of light and then onto the great sea of Mer. I took a turn at the tiller, enjoying the feel of the speedy and responsive little ship. The sails were rigged like nothing I'd ever seen and I spent some time examining them, thinking of applications for spelljamming ships. Moquar, after his nap, was a little more talkative and we learned that flying ships come and go a lot, taking on water, fish and medicines. Outworlders have been visiting Mer for generations.

We were heading for Jandatown, the city where most of the pirates hung out. Moquor promised that the town would be beautiful, filled with flowers but with a high concentration of undesirable characters. He warned us that there would be lots of opportunities for trouble there. His advice was that if trouble came our way we should meet it squarely, but that we should not go looking for it and that we should be careful about not escalating things when we did not need to. I smiled and nodded. It sounded a lot like all the parts of all the towns I'd ever visited on the shores of the Sea of Fallen Stars as a slave aboard the Scorpion and the Ill Wind.

We sailed into the harbor at Jandatown to find a bustling waterfront marketplace. It seemed like all the captains set up shop at dockside selling wares and a host of ill-gotten gains to all the other pirates in town. At least one ship looked like a tradesman spelljammer, but if it was, it was heavily modified for landing in the water. Every other tradesman I had seen was unable to land anywhere.

Moquar told us that he was going to find out about the Antari. His prediction was that they were captured by slavers and that they would be coming to auction soon. He hoisted a green flag with a white sigil before disembarking. He told us it was a warning to others that they should leave the vessel alone. Indeed, at least one unsavory soul, slinking toward the boat saw the flag and turned tail. The old man pointed us in the direction of a race of dwarves that would likely give a good price for Myk's jewelry and started off. Before he left he told us to meet him at Zoolies tavern when we were done with our business in the marketplace.

Myk sold the jewelry to a dwarf and pocketed quite a load of gold for it. If Moquar was right and the Antari were to be sold on the auction block, the loot from Sunder's crypt certainly ought to cover the price of all six. A minor scuffle arose when a gang of ruffians came along looking for trouble. It could have gone from words to a pushing match to a mob fight very easily. Instead when the lead trouble maker started up on us, I hauled off and punched him. His buddies caught him as he fell and thought it was all very funny. He shook off the effects of the punch and was a little woozy for a bit.

"We thought you were outlanders," he said. "You must be from around here."

"No," I replied, "but I've lived in places like this all my life."

Shaking his head a little more and rubbing his jaw, he said in parting, "Well, we're looking for trouble makers. You see any, you send them our way."

We headed off to Zoolies, but Myk and Joram got distracted by a merchant selling bows. Before long, a third of Sunder's gold went to buy a new bow.

At Zoolies you check your weapons at the door. Joram almost put up another fuss, but he would be able to keep an eye on his big sword from a bar as long as our boat, so he too checked his blade. Inside the fest hall was a huge space filled with people and vines and flowers. In the center of the building was a shallow, sandy floored pit. Spots of color stained the sand. Blood. It was a dueling pit.

I made the mistake of mixing my drinks. I took some of the licorice flavored sap wine from a cut vine hanging over the bar first and then tried some fish beer. The mix did something very unpleasant. I lost color vision for several hours. At first everything started looking kind of washed out. Then all there was were shades of gray. It was truly frightening.

Myk made a bigger mistake. A tall warrior of a completely unfamiliar race, hanging out with his buddies was clearly working up to a challenge. They kept looking over at Joram, making comments and laughing. The tall one was ready to challenge Joram when Myk barged into the works. He went over and started to insult the big warrior. In the end, Mantis, the warrior ended up in the pit with Myk. It was all too silly. Myk gave me 500 gold with instructions to bet it on him. Egwene placed an even larger bet with gold Myk had given her as her share of Sunder's treasure.

Myk lasted quite a while in the pit with a swordsman that clearly out matched him. Ever since he had started training with the sneaky guy in Daggerfalls and put aside the priestly and ranger skills, he had not been as effective a fighter. It was understandable given that he was working hard at learning new skills and new ways of doing things. It was just all too sad that he had to get involved at the wrong time by insulting the warrior. Mantis, as we later learned, was a frequent visitor to the pit. I would have liked to see Joram face off against Mantis, but alas it was not to be. I was nervous for my new found companion and would have taken the challenge myself if possible, but it would have been even better to see just what Joram could have done. Myk took a beating. He was clever and creative, but never stood a chance. He made it out alive by surrendering at the last moment, just before Mantis would have skewered him. In the final accounting, he made a huge error in judgement and he and the drow lost 2500 pieces of gold on wagers on the bout. Egwene had also gotten thrown out of the fest hall for trying to use magic to interfere in the fight.

Before the fight, Moquar had come back in with a report on the Antari. He found them and scouted the site. They were prisoners of the slavers and were scheduled for auction tomorrow. They were likely to fetch a price of as much as 1200 each. That totaled 7200 gold for the group. I shook my head and had to sigh. Myk had had enough to buy the lot only hours ago. Now we were far short of the total and had few prospects that would get us the needed cash in time. Before I could get too lost in despair the huge red-haired form of Zoolie appeared beside us. He had a proposition for us if we could hang around until closing.

There was a bit of time before closing and Moquar agreed to take us to the slave pens so we could scout it out for ourselves. There was a wooden palisade wall guarded by several slavers equipped with weapons that could easily incapacitate any one of us. One of them had a lizard jar gun, like the one the savage on the beach had used on Myk. Each of the slaves was kept in a separate cage. The cages were scattered throughout the yard. Other unseen guards could be expected. The chances of getting the Antari out of the slavers' hands this way seemed very poor. We headed back to Zoolies.

Being the desperate spirits we were, we hung around until closing time. After the bar closed, Zoolie took us back into his office. It was a fantastic place, filled with exotic decorations. A giant crab skeleton formed the desk. Dagron bows, like the one Myk had recently purchased, were everywhere, ready to use. He looked us over for a while and got right to business. He could use some Outworlder help with a little job that would involve some danger and busting some heads. If we were willing to help, he'd give us 1100 gold each. That would likely give us enough to buy the Antari slaves in the morning. Unless the price got bid way up.

I made a counter proposal. I suggested that we help him tonight and that he buy us six slaves in the morning. The look in his eyes told me he knew what was coming next. Slowly, knowing the answer, he asked which ones. When we told him, he dropped his head in his hands and shook them muttering stupid, stupid, stupid. When he looked up he told us that he did not understand why the friends of the Antari were not already here pounding Jandatown to rubble. I told him that was why we were here. If we fail, the pounding would be "plan B."

Again he shook his head, "I don't want to have to rebuild again. Okay, it's a deal. Those Antari never should have been brought here in the first place. Let's go, I'll explain on the way."

The big guy from Mer mounted a pair of dagron bows on his forearms and moved his giant crab desk, revealing a trap door. We crawled into the space below Zoolies Tavern. It was a nasty, dusty, space, full of small scuttling creatures with too many legs. The ruins of an old building lay sunken amidst the beams supporting the tavern above. Zoolie led us beneath a neighboring building. It was a fest hall, the sound of laughter drifting down to us.

We traveled half way across town in the crawl space under the feet of the Jandatowners. At one point we hit a narrowing and those wearing heavy armor had to remove it to crawl through it. In another spot, the floor above was broken and sagging. We worked a couple of spells to get timbers in position to support it. The timbers held and we worked our way deeper under the town to a battle with giant crabs and then to a cavern with a big dark lake in the middle. Our path would take us close to the water. Zoolie warned us that what looked like water was really a liquid sand that housed a monster. He had tangled with it a couple of times on his way through. It was not likely that we would make it past without it attacking.

We decided to draw it out when we were ready for it. It was a galquin, a huge, worm like thing that fired tree stump sized tusks. I was grazed by one that nearly broke my arm. The creature's bite was horrific and I was certain I was going to die. By the time the thing was dead in the sand-water, I and a couple others were torn and bloody. I downed three healing potions. They helped, but I was still hurting.

We came back up a bit, and got right up under the floorboards of another building. After a long and torturous crawl, we got to the tightest spot yet. We had to leave weapons and armor behind and silently scrunch our way along in a narrow space between the dirt and the floor above. Dust and grit sifted down into our faces as we went. Finally, after a very long time, Zoolie stopped us beneath an unremarkable patch of flooring. We waited only a little while before we heard the sound of a door and a peg-legged man. There was a huge chest dragged in and unlocked, then locked again. After a short discussion, the two men left and the room was quiet. We waited for about thirty minutes before moving. We loosed a couple of floorboards from underneath, and came up into a dark room. Zoolie explained that the chest held gold that the bad guys were going to use to buy the Antari captives tomorrow. Myk got the chest open very quietly despite getting hit with a poisoned needle. He survived the poison and we opened the chest. It was brimming with gold. We loaded most of it into bags and then dumped sand into the bottom of the chest. We replaced a layer of gold on top of the sand, closed the chest, and locked it up. We replaced the boards as best we could and snuck out of the crawl space.

Back at Zoolies we were given enough gold to buy the prisoners. He told us not to let the bidding go up past 1100 or 1200 gold. With those instructions, we went off to get some sleep. Somewhere along the way I asked Joram why he was so unwilling to let his sword out of his hand. The conversation was very confusing for a long moment. He made absolutely no sense until I realized that he believed that he and the sword were one being. Up until the time he met us, he was a sword spirit, a part of the sword he now carried. He did not know he could leave it behind. He also said that everything I said felt like it held the power of command. Jaysop, the sword wielder was a githzeri and Joram's features reflected those characteristics. I was amazed and couldn't comprehend the implications. We talked a bit longer abut I still felt bewildered.

Fifth day of consciousness in Merspace

The auction went very well. The peg-leg, Konk, bid against us for a while until he checked his chest of gold and found he had a lot less than he had thought. The Antari were sold to us for 1000 gold pieces each. We met up with Moquar, hustling the six pale scouts quickly down to the docks and we cast off. The drugged prisoners came around slowly and began to talk to us. We learned the they had discovered the secret of Darkwater. They explained this secret and it seemed to make sense to Moquar, but I couldn't really follow all the implications. I could see how important the information was to the Antari, though.

It wasn't long before Konk and his crew caught up with his big boss and they were after us. Little more than an hour out of Jandatown, a huge ship was spotted astern. Moquar had put on all speed for the cave where we were to head into the Antari realm. Now, as the big ship was closing, he gave me the tiller and a big smile. He placed his hand on the water and sent a great wave off toward the big ship. He summoned water elementals and water spouts, but they seemed to have no effect on our pursuers. They were gaining on us but we had to evade a big patch of Darkwater that came on in our path. Moquar told all of us and the Antari to head up into the upper rigging of the mainsail and use the straps there to secure ourselves. The pursuit was close. They started to launch Dackron reptile fliers with riders into the air and skimmers on the water. Moquar pointed out a cliff ledge and a cave, then launched the glider that served as the top of the mainsail. It took us to a crashing landing on the cliff while he turned our little boat to engage the huge vessel behind us.

We lost sight of the brave ecomancer when the giant vessel swallowed the little boat whole. On our ledge we found the cave and a bunch of barrels filled with soil and grubs. There was a crossbow pointed at the barrels. Moquar had told us to get deep in the cave and fire the bow. Joram stayed behind to fire the bow. It caused a huge explosion that sealed off the mouth of the cave. Joram barely made it in alive as the rocks came piling down. Stumbling our way back with the help of the Antari scouts, we found the river and a waiting war galley that returned us to the Antari city.

Back in the throne room, the leader told us that Darkwater is a magical creation filled with hate and evil and imbalance. A Dark Dweller lives in the bowels of Mer, living only to destroy. It is this Dark Dweller that spawns Darkwater. The rise and fall of the islands is caused by magical lay lines that are connected to the life force of Mer. This life force is what holds Mer together. There are magical items that can be used to destroy Darkwater, and the Antari work to nudge adventurers in ways that help them find these things.

Sometime, Somewhere (probably). In the Library of the Traveler.

We felt no transition, but suddenly we found ourselves sitting in a study or a library, facing a stranger. His eyes looked odd, as if we were looking into the pages of a book blown in the wind. I got the feeling of undirected information. Information without purpose or meaning. No context, no objective.

He greeted us in a very friendly manner and told us that he had momentarily interrupted our journey so that he could speak with us. He had noted our travels and wanted to let us know that if we wished to continue our travels after our current journey is completed, he would be able to help us do that. He saw that we were guided by the gods Shandakul, Illistreae, Tyr, Lathandar, Ogma, Sleûne, and Tymora. Three more stops remain on our mission, but two forces are calling us at once, creating a moment where something might happen. He told us how to reach him in the future and sat down to read. Myk picked up another book after some prompting by the Traveler (don't read the end of any book, for then it is over. Don't start at the beginning for then all the context is explained.)

We then found ourselves standing on rolling dunes of dark sand. Bright stars lit the night sky. Nothing looked familiar. A black-cloaked figure bearing a scythe approached. Flickering images overlaid my vision. In one, wizards were in a casting circle. In another a ziggurat was being built. The dunes went rushing past but the scenes of the wizards and the ziggurat stayed with us. The black cloaked figure was next to us.

A castle appeared behind a gate and a whirlpool. Galloping toward us was a figure in plate mail on a big horse. He appeared to be the God of War. He spoke with Death and neither knew why we were here. War said "'She' does."

Death started looking for us in his book. He then switched to a book called the 'Tragedians.' By the time he looked up saying "AH, HERE YOU ARE" we were gone. We decided to go toward the pull of the wizards and shot off toward a flat, circular world sitting on the backs of four elephants. They were supported by a turtle that swam along with long, lazy strokes.

We landed in a forest filled with clover. It was a wild place and felt full of promise and expectancy. From behind a tree we were surprised by a sneeze and then a running man. He was running flat out and pulling away from Myk and Joram who chased after him. He might have gotten away if not for a tree branch that he hit spot-on with his forehead, putting him out cold.

Just as we were getting the running wizard awakened, Joram sneezed and turned into a goat! Things only got more strange as we found out more. The runner was Rincewind who claimed to be a wizard. His behavior and apparent lack of magical ability made me question his claim. Rincewind seems to be some sort of a focal point for a huge amount of very strange luck created from enormous magical energies in this place. A chaos weather butterfly landed on Rincewind's pointy hat (labeled 'wizzard' in gaudy rhinestones). When I touched it, a tiny lightning bolt struck me and a little rain cloud followed me around until the butterfly flapped away.

Rincewind kept trying to run away from us. He was a very accomplished runner. Somehow he couldn't seem to get away from us though. Perhaps it was his strange luck. Neither did he seem capable of helping us turn Joram back into his human form. After downing a couple of beers, he was a lot more talkative and suggested that Archchancellor Ridcully at the Unseen University might be able to do something about it.

We encountered intelligent trees, rock-like trolls, and light that moved slowly and flowed like water. The amount of magic here seemed so much as to burst through the fabric of mundane reality with almost any excuse.

Day 2 in Diskworld - The Nomore.

Rincewind traveled with us on our way to the Unseen University. It seemed like the place to go (in large part because Rincewind thought we shouldn't). We descended the Ramtops Mountains, still traveling through forest land. Late in the day we encountered a very young man (16 years old we learned later) guarding a stone bridge. The bridge crossed the Nomore River. Strangely, the King of Nomore had the river drained long ago. There was no river. There was not even a Kingdom any longer. The boy held a long staff topped by a shaky silvery point. Egwene walked all the way around the bridge, even though the boy told us that no one could cross the bridge with out permission from the King of Nomore. Unfortunately, it appeared that the Kingdom no longer existed.

We invited ourselves for dinner at the small stone cottage to give us some time to figure out what to do with this person. The boy led us into the cottage where a fire burned cheerfully in the hearth and a huge meal was laid out for us. No cook appeared to be around to make what turned out to be a delicious meal. The boy's name was Rodrick. He told us that his father had left him here to guard the bridge eight years ago. Rodrick was the 8th son of an 8th son, a very auspicious situation here. Rincewind had us go out to the bridge and asked Rodrick to reenact the event when his father left him here. During this reenactment, it became clear to everyone save Rodrick that the boy's father had meant for him to guard the magical staff, topped by a non-magical decoration that Rodrick used as a spear point. He had been here for 8 years guarding the bridge and reading a charming little picture book about the Kingdon of Nomore.

After the boy had gone to bed and Rincewind had some more to drink, we learned that often a powerful wizard will leave his magic staff to his heir in a ceremony shortly before the wizard dies. In an exploration of the bookshelf, we found the old wizard's journals. The journal confirmed that the wizard was about to die of old age when he gave his staff to his 8th son. Rincewind explained that the boy and staff likely had enormous magical power given the boy's birth order and the importance of the number 'after seven and before nine.' Rincewind wanted to do anything except take the boy to the Unseen University where Rodrick could learn to develop his magical ability in safety. Therefore we decided that taking the boy to the university was the right thing to do. We spent far too long talking about how we should trick the boy into coming with us. After getting fed up with it all, I suggested that we [gasp!] just tell the kid the truth about what we learned. We should tell him that his father had intended him to stay here until now and then go to the university. The staff obviously liked the suggestion as it instantly stood itself in the middle of the table humming with a high-pitched vibration. Our wine glasses filled with a wonderful, rich red wine. It was, without a doubt, the best wine I had ever tasted. The magical staff did not allow our glasses to remain empty once we had decided what to do.

Day 3 on the disk - Meeting the Silver Horde

Rodrick made things very easy for us in the morning. The Staff had prepared a backpack full of traveling gear for the boy. He told us that he had to go on a journey today as it was exactly eight years since his father had left him here to guard the bridge. I had to laugh. The staff was obviously taking good care of the boy. Breakfast was savory little sausages, fried and spicy, pancakes dripping with fresh butter and syrup, icy cold milk and crisp, cold apple cider.

Just after we finished eating and had begun to pack up our meager packs, there was a knock on the door. It was a dwarf with a proposition. He intended to open a new mine nearby and offered the boy 10% as the only resident in the neighborhood. Rodrick accepted and offered the dwarf the cottage to live in until the dwarf could get the mine going. Since Rodrick was going to be away for a while, the whole situation was resolved to everyone's benefit.

It was a merry band that set off through the forest on a pleasant road. Our journey was interrupted when the ground gave away beneath us and we found ourselves in a deep pit trap. We had just begun to sort ourselves out when there was a commotion from above. Old-man voices shouted down at us in anger. We had stumbled into someone's hunting pit. Fortunately (but not surprisingly) Rincewind knew the leader of the ancient barbarian toupe. We were hauled out of the pit despite one old warrior's willingness to eat us despite anything. We were introduced to the Silver Horde, led by Gengitz Cohen. What a trip they were. None of them could have been less than 80 years old. One was in a wheeled chair! It was amazing that they were able to get out of bed but these guys radiated waves of danger. And they claimed to be on vacation!! Taking a break from the raping, pillaging, plundering and other barbarian chores. Rincewind and Cohen got on very well and we ended up traveling along with the oldsters. Cohen seemed impressed that Rincewind had assembled his own horde. We thought it was a great idea to rename our group to "Chasing Rincewind!"

Day 4 on the disk - last gambit of the bandit

A gang of unfortunate bandits decided to lay an ambush along the road. They lunged out of the grass that had gradually replaced the forest along the way. The leader didn't even get to finish his demand for our money before he was cut down by two thrown axes and a hysterical cackle from Mad Hamish, the fossil in the wheeled chair. He had more sharp things in his hand and was chasing down bandits before I even knew what was happening. We got into the swords-out, but just barely. The old farts had decimated the bandit gang with little help from us. Mad Hamish was rolling through the grass, finishing off the hideouts while I was still stunned by what I saw. These guys were old and not real fast, but they had a depth of skill and experience that was not likely matched by anyone still this side of a grave. They were good at not being dead.

One (and only one) bandit had tried to attack Rodrick. His staff had dashed out, touched the bandit lightly and turned him into vapor. Long after the fight, a circle of super heated dirt and sand and grit of the road remained glowing and crackling as it slowly cooled.

Day 5 on the disk - Sailing on a circular sea.

Tagging along with the Silver Horde, we learned that they were headed toward the sea to raid a village. We thought perhaps we could get passage on a ship from the village, but I wasn't convinced that anything as civilized as a ship would remain unburned after a visit to the village by the Silver Horde. One of the Horde, a former geography teacher, sketched out a map of the Discworld for my benefit. The Unseen University was in a city named Ankh-Morpork. A voyage on the circular sea that edged the disk appeared to be an efficient way of getting us and Rodrick to the university. We just tried to keep up with the oldsters.

As we approached the village we saw that it was a fairly small sea-side fishing community. The Horde charged. As they rumbled down the hill above town (and we raced along behind), we all realized that a pirate ship was at the dock and was engaged in a raid on the village. Without any apparent discussion, the Silver Horde changed target and swept down on the unsuspecting (and doomed) pirates. We stayed out of the way of the Horde but made ourselves useful by attacking the two sea serpents harnessed to the ship by the pirates for power. The nasty worms spit a terrible goo at me and Joram. It disoriented us for a bit but did no lasting harm. Once we shook off the effects of the serpent spittle, we tied into the monsters and hacked them into very small pieces. The Silver Horde was impressed. They were covered with dead pirate blood but had watched us finish off the sea monsters and they all cheered as the last one went down.

Immediately after we secured the top deck, I went below in search of prisoners. There was only one. A foppish dwarf with ridiculous hair, but grateful to be released. He asked to be taken to Ankh-Morpork. The dwarf was smooth and urbane and started making moves on Egwene as soon as he introduced himself and presented his card.

Cohen and the old boys had cast off from the dock, leaving the bewildered (but happy) villagers to forever after wonder just what had happened and why. We set sail for Ankh-Morpork with an ideal wind. I glanced over at Rodrick and his staff, but they appeared to be unconcerned with the wind. If the staff's magic was responsible for such good weather, there was no visible effect. I climbed into the rigging to help set sails and fell into a comfortable rhythm of sailing out of town. I smiled, though. That was unusual. I rarely smiled as the pirate ship left the village. These thoughts led me back to memories of the Ill Wind. I should go back and pay the Cap'n a visit someday soon. Another smile.

The Silver Horde found the rum before the village was out of sight. They had it open even faster. We all got on to drinking and telling tales. I told the story of how spotted rum came to be served in Westgate. It started one day the Wind was at the docks and I had decided I'd had enough of being a victim of the bastards aboard her. I'd got dragged along to a rotten little tavern on the wharf with some of the worst scum that crewed the Wind. As usual, when they drank they got even more abusive and they decided to create some new bruises on the old bruises I wore. They even found a dagger or two to make things interesting. I'd brought along a gaff hook though. When it started I slashed the gaff across the wiry, throat of "Dog Willan." Blood fountained out all over the table which was covered with mugs of rum. The blood specked the rum with bright red blotches. Everybody was looking at me with surprise and appraisal, looking to see if I'd back down and play the victim again. Instead I raised a blood splattered mug and downed the mixture of rum and blood. Ever after the tavern served "spotted rum," although I'd heard they used chicken or pig blood more often than pirate blood. The Horde loved the story and proceeded, to a man, to cut themselves and drip blood into their mugs. I joined them.