# Swords against the Savage Tide: A Planewalkers Tale...  (Updated 12/18/07)



## primemover003 (Dec 19, 2007)

OK hopefully the confusion between two similar threads doesn't muck up my story!  I'm reposting Swords against the Savage Tide here because I was having trouble editing my long posts in the other thread. 
[sblock=The set up] In this campaign I'm having my group resurrect their old 2nd ed Planescape band of fiendslayers and sending through Dungeon's Savage Tide Adventure Path as a classic Planescape style campaign.  Starting at 10th level I'll obviously have to scale some parts of it as I want to begin with Here There Be Monsters, the 4th chapter of the path (normally for 7th level characters).  Adapting it to the planes will be even more interesting then I thought!

The first three adventures (HTBM, ToD, and CoBI) will all take place on the Beastlands, in and around the Forbidden Plateau (substituting for the Isle of Dread), TLD will take place in Pandemonium's 3rd and 4th layers.  I'm not sure exactly how to fit in SoS yet, but by the time we get there (probably march) I'll have it done.

*The Players... *
Arros Firebrand - m Human Clr 5/Demonwrecker 5 of St. Cutbert, (Harmonium) LN 
Deek - m Goliath - Bbn 7/Ftr 2 (Ragers sect) CG
Duklar - m Tielfing Scout 10, (Free League) CN
Falyte Gainsborough - m Human Clr 10 of Tymora, (Society of Sensation) CG 
Sir Lucien Bradley - m Aasimar Pal 10, (Believers of the Source) LG 
Mephistopheles "Horny" Blutkrieger - m Minotaur Ftr 2, CG 
Yark - m Half-orc Bbn 10, (Ragers sect) CN

*The set-up...*
Lavinia is the daughter of Factol Darius of the Sign of One (a planar Faction that maintains a presence on the Beastlands). Factol Darius, a potent seer, dreams of an upcoming demonic assault on the colony of Farshore (a Faction holding on the Beastlands) and sees the PC's there stopping it.  She asks the PC's to protect her daughter and the colony which studies the Forbidden Plateau hoping to learn more about the "dead" pantheon whose realm lies there. 

Vanthus becomes the leader of a demonic led force of tielfing Vile Hunters (a planar sect), Tanar'ri, and Doomsguard (another of Sigil's Factions).  Vanthus' backstory changes to that of the scion of the tanar'ri general Za'rafass who was killed in a raid on the Concordant Domains of the Outlands (in which Darius' divinations played an instrumental role).  Vanthus leads a campaign to wound Factol Darius' political base by destroying the colony and her heart by kidnapping her daughter.[/sblock]
Here is the tale of the adventuring brotherhood known in the City of Doors as the Sword.

*Session #1 - A Call to the Hall...*

_Darius sat upright, her heart racing.  "Oh, what dark Imaginings," she breathed.  The Factol of the Sign of One had been troubled by ominous portents for many nights.  A powerful seer and diviner her dreams often came to pass, by which she came to lead one of the City of Doors mighty Factions.  She pulled her robes closely around her and donned her wimple before summoning her Factor.  A well dressed courtier entered the bed chambers of the Factol and bowed before her.  Darius focused her thoughts and spoke, "Seek out the members of the Sword.  Summon them to the Speakers Podium.  Bid them make all haste, for my Dreams do call to them."_

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

The Courier jogged lightly through the smog choked alleys of the Foundry district, her hand on her dirk and eyes alert for danger.  The Lower Ward of Sigil was no place to let your guard down!  Knights of the Post and worse would bob a clueless berk in a blink of an eye.  Turning a corner the messenger approached the vast complex that was the Great Foundry, Faction Headquarters of the Believers of the Source.  Even here at its gates she could feel the heat of the foundries and forges, the hammering of metal ringing in her ears.  The godsmen manning the posts challenged her approach.  Holding up a sealed scroll case she brushed the hood away from her face.  A trio of blue concentric rings tattooed on her brow attested to her standing in the Courier's guild.  "I'm looking for Sir Lucien Bradley, the Source Knight," she piped.  

The Believers directed her to small forge near the faction flophouses in the rear of the complex.  Pounding away at a gleaming mithril breastplate stood a monstrous gray-skinned humanoid in naught but trousers.  He looked up at the slight girl before him and called back into the shack.  "Lucien, someone's here for ya."  The Courier expecting a paladin wasn't surprised when the sandy haired Aasimar stepped out the door.  What did astonish her though were the gold tinged wings sprouting from his back, a sure sign he was blessed by the powers of Good.  The Aasimar fished out a few silver coins from his russet purse, handing them to the girl as she delivered her missive.  "Thank you miss."  His warm smile faded as he read the parchment within the scroll case.  The paladin turned to the goliath, "Grab your Maul Deek.  It seems we are needed."  

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

A light rain was falling and tiny trickles of water dripped on the table.  Duklar leaned back in the comfortably carved chair his face shadowed by his deep hood.  He gripped a warm polished mug full of foaming Golden Hills Bitter Ale, quite arguably the finest of the selection to be found at the Wandering Treant Inn.  Across the table his recently acquired partner dug into a small roast hen and chased a mountain of buttered potatoes as they tumbled off his plate.  As the lumbering Treant walked across Dothion, the first layer of Bytopia, the Inn built in it's massive branches swayed along with it's strides.  "How's the vittles, hun?" asked the dimpled gnome as she set a trencher of warm dark bread and cheese down.  The Half-orc looked up at her briefly and grabbed a hunk of bread but said nothing.   "Well that's rude!" she spat.  The lounging scout kicked his well worn boots on the table and took a long drink from his mug.  "Don't mind Yark there.  He don't speak a lick, 'specially while he's eating."  The Gnome peered across the table at the wiry man.  He wore well worn hunting leathers all a neutral shade of gray, green, or brown.  She couldn’t tell which.  He sat with his face hidden in the folds of his deep hood but she saw his eyes glowing dimly in the gloom.  She reflexively shivered and the thin  tiefling slid his smokey goggles back onto his face.  Duklar took up his mug again and turned to regard his chum.  “Well Yarky, this here is the closest thing to civilized livin’ that I want to take part in.  Hard to feel confined when you live in a tree!”  

The Half-orc blissfully continued eating unaware of the scouts ramblings.  That is until a tiny bird streaked through the tree branches and raindrops appearing in front of the both of them.  The jittery little thing hopped from one foot to the other twittering speedily.  Yark crinkled his brow at the curious little avian and swiped his meaty paw at it.  It zipped into the branches above his head before his hand was even close and chirped in an angry staccato.  “Well who’d be sending an Astral Streaker to find me?” asked the Scout.  He whistled a little at the flustered bird which promptly flittered onto his waiting hand.  A small blue steel ring circled the birds leg trailing a fine adamantine chain that attached to a capped tube.  Duklar unscrewed the tube and found a brief note asking him to return to Sigil and the Hall of Speakers to meet his companions of the Sword.  The tiefling hated everything about that city.  One of Sigil’s many names was the Cage and to Duklar that’s exactly what it felt like.  Still the mention of his companions piqued his curiosity.  He ordered another ale and gulped it down wiping the nutty foam from his lips.  Nudging the half-orc he signaled they were leaving.  Yark walked his fingers along the table and shrugged, his simple way of asking where they were going.  Duklar pulled a gold band off his slim finger, made a rude gesture with the digit and held the ring above it.  Yark nodded in complete understanding.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

The streets of Thrassos hummed with excitement as colorful circus tents sprung to life seemingly overnight just outside of town.  The philosophers and merchants of the town took time out of their days to explore the Menagerie.  Exotic animals from around the planes were displayed in cages that seemed made of ice, fire, and smoke.  Tiny kobold mummers in elaborate garb tumbled and pantomimed for the crowd.  These were the “Little Green Men,” stars of the Managerie and the brainchild of Krylara it’s mistress.  A native of Thrassos herself the snake-blooded woman took center stage among the troupe of reptilian clowns.  With her lithe sinuous body she danced and performed acts of extreme contortion as her Little Green Men capered and frolicked about.  A dark skinned tiefling in voluminous robes and a grotesque mask dazzled the crowd with pyrotechnics and displays of minor illusions while singing in a deep baritone.

Walking among the periphery of the crowd, a lank Minotaur in blue leathers kept his eyes open for troublemakers or any overly enthusiastic patrons… something quite common in any Arborean town!  For all the merriment being made by the performers it was obvious the hulking ram horned humanoid was in a deep melancholy.  Billed as Mephistopheles the Mighty, the Minotaur sometimes performed as a strongman.  Lately however he was content to bash a few heads and herd the drunks out after the performances were over.  Known to most as Horny, the Minotaur had been growing more and more restless as the circus grew closer to Thrassos.   As the kobold mimes danced among the crowd they passed out leaflets and handbills touting the grand finale of the Managerie’s run in the Olympian town.  The Mistress of the circus would be wedding her inamorato, the Pyromancer Xerez in a grand ceremonial performance!  The entire town was abuzz and it was sure to be the high point of the lazy summer.  

For Horny it was a crushing blow for he had fallen in love with the pureblood Yuan-ti.  He had followed the Managerie from Sigil after seeing Krylara perform at the Civic Festhall.  He fell in with the troupe near the Gatetown of Ecstasy when it ran afoul of a Brood of Tso slavers intent on making the circus their own.  Horny had stormed the deck of the Tso’s flying ship, known as an Aracheon, single handedly.  His sweeping greatsword made short work of the thralls sent against him by the cowardly Tso masters.  The Tso gathered together intent on stopping the murderous force on board their vessel.  The eel-faced monsters began weaving their cooperative sorceries, their spider like bodies moving intricately.  So focused on the Minotaur they forgot Krylara, whose slipped her bonds thanks to her contortionists skill.  She danced in among the spell casters pouncing on the largest slaver sinking her delicate fangs into its slimy neck.  The Tso gasped as the poison raced through his veins but it managed to answer the woman’s attack, biting her in turn.  Krylara flopped onto the deck paralyzed but successful in disrupting their spell.  Horny ripped through the last of the Tso’s defenders and bounded up to the quarterdeck.  The five remaining spiders lashed out at the Minotaur with their magic staves scorching and shocking him, but they were cut down like so much Arborean wheat.  Horny scooped up Krylara’s prone form and vaulted over the side of the ship landing on the big top below.  From that day on Horny remained with the Managerie as its protector.  In time the Minotaur learned that while Krylara was fond of him she preferred the company of planetouched men.  The yuan-ti rotated through a coterie of tieflings as they traveled the Great Road among the Upper Planes.  None lasted over-long until Xerez appeared in a puff of smoke and brimstone.  

When the frost-rimed mephit arrived with a summons to the Cage, Horny wasted little time with goodbyes.  The Minotaur grabbed his gear which had been nearly packed for days and walked to Thrassos center.  A rotunda of white marble pillars marked the Gate to the Outlands burg of Sylvania.  Horny stepped into the circle of pillars waiting for the Gate to activate.  An aged woman in white robes trimmed in blue sat nearby.  “You need the approval of the town elders to pass the Gate warrior,” she stated.  Horny sighed in annoyance and his shoulders slumped, “I suppose they’re all down at the circus.  Just my rotten luck.”  Before he could turn away the matron before him stood from the bench and asked, “Why do you go?  Are you not with the circus?”  The Minotaur looked up at the woman replying, “No longer.  My companions are in need of my aid so I go.”  The robed woman looked upon the Minotaur for a moment noticing when he mentioned his companions his posture straightened and his eyes brightened.  “Do not worry yourself with the town elders, Champion.  I can open the Gate.  I merely needed to judge your reason for leaving.”  The marble pillars began to glow with a white light blinding Horny for a moment.  As the view of the small town faded he almost imagined the old woman’s eyes flash with light before he planeshifted.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Constable Arros Firebrand walked briskly through the City Barracks.  It was early in the morning and still dark in the Lady’s Ward.  He mentally ticked off the number of paces it took to reach end of the corridors he walked, memorized from long hours of guard duty as a Namer in the Harmonium.  Arros had received orders to report to the office of Factor Tonat Shar, his commanding officer immediately upon waking.  Reached the office he rapped on the door twice and waited.  After a few moments he heard a stiff, “Enter.”  Stepping through the door he approached the Factors desk snapping to attention two feet before it.  Tonat Shar looked up at him.  “Firebrand I don’t know exactly what you did to garner the attention of the Factol of the Sign of One but rest assured I will be keeping tabs on you.”  The stern faced commandant slid a dossier across his desk to the Constable.  Arros lifted the portfolio and scanned its contents briefly.  “You are dismissed.”  Arros saluted and walked out.  

Standing in the hallway outside the Factors office Arros studied the file in his hands noting the summons from the Hall of Speakers, an indefinite leave of duty writ, and a requisition for supplies and stipend.  “I’d love to know as well,” he thought.  It would take the better part of the day to walk the distance from the Barracks to the Hall of Speakers so he needed to get a move on.  He stopped to make his morning devotions to St. Cuthbert in the Barracks communal shrine before heading to the provisioners for collect his final stipend and supplies.  Obviously his superiors thought he was going to be gone for an extended time and issued him some basic adventuring gear; backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, two sunrods, ten days worth of field rations, 50 feet of hempen rope, a waterskin, and a spare holy symbol.  “Superb,” the constable thought.  “They’re sending me Out-of-Town at the very least.  Out-of-touch is more likely though.”  He gathered up his gear and joined up with a column of fellow guardsmen bound for the Clerk’s Ward.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Falyte enjoyed the view from his suite on the upper floors of the Hall of Speakers.  Arriving the night before, he had been treated as well as any visiting dignitary or ambassador, put up in a lavish apartment and given every courtesy.  He had been curious as to why the Signers had contacted him via sending spell summoning him to their Faction headquarters.  Managing one of his own Faction’s gaming halls was distracting for a time but he had long grown bored of the hospitality industry.  So when a sonorous voice popped into his head he gladly walked the few blocks from the Civic Festhall to see what the Factol of the Sign of One needed.  The balacony afforded him quite a vantage point and it wasn’t long before he saw a winged figure cutting through the sky towards him.  He waved happily, greeting his friend who landed nimbly.  “Lucien, how are you?”  “I am well Falyte, thank you.  How do you fare?”  The boisterous cleric of Tymora was just starting into his tales of running a gambling hall when he jumped back from the rail with a shriek.  A wide grinning face stared at him through the bars of the railing.  “By all that is lucky, Deek you scared the hell out of me!”  The big goliath laughed as he finished clambering up onto the balcony.  “Sorry, but not all of us can fly.  Besides prefer climbing to walking up stairs.  It gets the blood pumping!”  Falyte leaned over to look at Deek’s ascent, marveling at the ease in which the big man scaled the smooth plaster of the Hall of Speakers.  “Just count yourself lucky,” the priest winked.  “They don’t let Razorvine grow all over the buildings in the Clerk’s Ward.  We have an image to think about here!”

It was almost full dark by the time Arros was shown to the apartment and caught up with his companions.  They exchanged pleasantries and found each of them had been growing discontent with life in the past months since they had returned from the Abyss.  Lucien had some distraction in his budding relationship with Umbra, the alu-fiend maiden whom the group had helped restore a forgotten Faction nearly two years back.  She was the daughter of a fallen Harmonium Factor named Durkayle and a Succubus.  Umbra was believed to be the One True Being prophesied by Zactar, a priest and orator whose self-named faction had thrived before Sigil’s Great Upheaval nearly 650 years ago.  Arros grew quiet as they recounted the rescue of the Alu-fiend from the Hardhead Prefect’s fortress.  That raid led to the capture of Lucien, Deek, and Falyte’s former companion.  The drow beguiler, Draaven Nightblade, had accompanied the Sword in the raid of Durkayles tower and was locked away in a secret Prison on the plane of Carceri by Durkayle.  His rescue was only accomplished with the help of Arros who had chafed under the corrupt Factors command and assisted the Sword in bringing down a ring of evil Hardheads and Mercykillers who sold prisoners to the Yugoloths as slaves or worse.  

When the subject of their last mission together arose, Falyte’s mood darkened.  The Sword was contracted by a Pit Fiend in the guise of an assurance company agent to track down, recover, or destroy an entropic weapon of war known as a Ship of Chaos in the Abyss.  The Sword found the Ship in the skies of Pazunia, also known as the Plain of Infinite Portals.  Sneaking on board they battled the ships demonic crew taking heavy casualties in the process.  Falyte and the tiefling Blademaster Kevden Megdal were lost overboard as the Ship tore a rift in space passing through a portal to another layer of the Abyss.  Only Falyte returned from that ordeal to tell the tale and no divination he cast had yet located Kevden.  It was on the Abyss afflicted with Confusion that Falyte had run into another tielfing named Duklar.  The Scout was the lone survivor of an Indep caravan that had been destroyed by the Ship of Chaos outside the walls of Broken Reach.  He helped guide the Tymoran priest back to Sigil and fell in with the other members of the Sword.  Thinking of his resourceful friend he wondered aloud, “Do you think they summoned Duklar?”

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*


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## primemover003 (Dec 19, 2007)

*A Factol's Plea...*

Just before Anti-peak that question was answered as the wiry Duklar, his new friend Yark, and Horny the Minotaur arrived.  Even though the hour was very late the assembled members of the Sword were led up to the Speaker’s Podium where Factol Darius awaited them.  The Factol of the Signers was a handsome woman in her late forties, tall and olive skinned.  She stood before them on the podium, her poised and commanding presence a palpable thing.

“Welcome Heroes.  I know you have many questions as to why I have summoned you here and I shall address them shortly.”  The Factol took a moment to look at each of them in turn before continuing.  “I have been dreaming of your faces,” she said.  “I Dream of you, standing against a terrible, growing evil.  A savage tide that threatens to drown all I have worked to accomplish for so many years.”  Darius’ eyes were unfocused as she spoke, looking off into some unknown distance, but her voice was strong and pulled at the listeners before her.  The Factol pulled herself back and focused on the moment.  “I have asked you here because you are known as fiend slayers.  Each of you is a mighty warrior of goodness, a champion of right.”  She pounded her fist on the wood of the podium.  “I have need of such warriors as you.”

Sir Lucien was the first to speak, “My Lady how can we help you?”
Darius motioned to her aides who brought forth charts and maps of a small fortified settlement and two small coffers.  “I ask you to travel to the Wilderness of the Beastlands and there defend the colony of Farshore from demonic assault.  I have foreseen portents and omens that forces led and supported by the Tanar’ri are targeting our Faction’s holdings.  I fear they also aim to abduct my daughter Lavinia who leads the mission there.  Your expedition shall take you into a remote region of the Beastlands known as the Forbidden Plateau which is a wondrous and deadly place.”

“Why are demons targeting you Factol,” asked the Constable.  “Why attack such a remote outpost on an Upper Plane?”

Factol Darius asked if anyone had heard of the tanar’ri Za’rafas.  The Harmonium soldier nodded, “He was a general who staged a feint through the Outlands nearly two decades ago.”  The Signer continued, “I see the Unity of Rings in this.  I was instrumental in the defeat of this tanar’ri who was favored of his demonic lord.  This is a personal vendetta against me, but one that would tear my great Faction apart.  I beg of you to help me defend my people and my daughter.”

Sir Lucien looked around at his companions, “My Lady I’m sure I can speak for all and say we would help you against the foul tanar’ri.  We love nothing more than ridding the multiverse of that accursed breed, but have you no forces you can send to aid the colony?”  The Factol stepped down from her podium and closed with the adventurers.  “My Faction is not a martial organization.  We do not have a military arm like some others within the Cage.  We are politicians, diplomats, and counselors.  As such I have no troops to spare or send.  The colony has a small militia, but we never anticipated an attack such as I have seen in my visions.  My daughter fancies herself a swordswoman and may resent my meddling.”  The Factol handed them a strand of crystal beads from her wrist, "Give these to her as proof of my sending you."

The Factol's aides unfurled the maps and charts of the colony and its surroundings for the adventurers to study.  Farshore sat on a small island in the midst of the River Oceanus near the Forbidden Plateau.  According to it’ charter the mission of the colony was to study the remnants of a ancient Pantheon's fallen realm that littered the region and to collect natural resources for trade such as exotic spices, rare botanicals, and select timber.  Duklar and Horny looked at each other when the last portion of the charter was read.  "Don't think the Wylders would take too keenly to harvesting timbre, eh Bull?"  The big Minotaur nodded in agreement but added, "They'd be more offended if the Signers were fool enough to trap fur."  The tiefling shrugged and then whispered, "Bet those resources would pull in a pile of jink if a proper trade route could be run to them.  Just think of the market for Arborean goods, this could rival that depending on what the Signers have discovered."  The wiry scout then asked aloud, "So how do we get there?"

Factol Darius looked at the group and decided they would aid her cause.  "There is no direct route for the moment," she stated.  "The Forbidden Plateau is one of the most remote regions of Krigala.  While the River Oceanus flows near the Plateau, its path seems to change erratically.  One can navigate it but only from within the Beastlands itself.  Our planar cartographers have not yet ascertained the reason or methodology of it, but soon enough the power of our Belief will guide us from more distant points like Elysium or Arborea."  Her Factions goal plot the great planar river's course through the power of their "Imagining" was a massive undertaking.  Darius' confidence in her Faction's philosophy was impressive.  "However until that feat is achieved the fastest route to Farshore is by way of the Gatetown, Faunel on the Outlands.  A being called Wrath controls the Gate into the Beastlands.  A request to be allowed passage to Signpost is usually granted.  He is a stubborn one and trusts few, especially if he deems them too civilized."  What the Factol didn't tell them was Wrath didn’t trust her Factions intentions concerning the Forbidden Plateau.  The ornery Gatekeeper could transport them there directly if he didn't suspect them of working for her.  "From Signpost you could chart a course upriver to the colony."

Sir Lucien nodded, confident he and companions would prevent the attack from succeeding.  Before he agreed to the Factols plea however Duklar spoke up.  "We like killing fiends and all, but some compensation might be in order.  Perhaps even a little up front, eh?"  Lucien frowned slightly at the mercenary nature of his companion, but the scout was right.  They did risk much to stop what sounded like a large demon backed raid.  And the journey itself was quite hazardous.  Factol Darius remained unperturbed by the request and in fact had expected it.  Only one of the band was a paladin after all!  "The journey to our colony is long and difficult and the request for aid is hazardous.  We can provide you with some assistance in getting there."  She motioned her aides to open the coffers they had brought out earlier revealing several scrolls, potion vials, and two wands.  "Here are magical remedies for disease, poison, extremes of climate, and healing.  In addition I will provide you the location of a permanent two-way Portal to Faunel and its key.  Certainly that is a valuable commodity here in the City of Doors."  The Factol waited as the Sword nodded their consent for her offer was generous.  She then added a final incentive.  "And should you save our Faction's holdings you will no doubt find its resources quite lucrative.  As a bonus I will grant you a share of its bounty."  Between the clerical magic items and the potential profits a trade route could generate Duklar found the deal to be sound.  "We're in."

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

The adventurers retired for the night choosing to start first thing the next morning.  Following the directions given to them by the Factol took them on a short jaunt through the Guildhall Ward to a health spa called the Other Place that catered mostly to members of the Transcendant Order, a Faction of doers and action oriented folk.  Thus when the band stepped through the door in fully armed and armored none of the staff or patrons were overly alarmed.  A pretty young maid greeted them, "Welcome good sirs.  What service may we provide you this day?"  Sir Lucien and Faltye took charge of the situation persuading the young attendant to give them a tour of the facility.  As they were lead through the Other Place they passed all manner of treatments for the mind, body, and spirit.  Massage parlors, saunas, and even pools of lava were seen as they passed through.  Coming into a communal courtyard Yark and Deek saw the baths through a changing area.  The quickly broke ranks and raced though the room seeking out a mudbath and the key to the portal they sought.  Yark plunged his hands into the greenish mud scooping up a sticky glop of the stuff.  Deek found the woman's bath, a large pool set in a marble basin nearly 20 feet wide.  Both Ragers jumped into the clear waters landing waist deep.  Woman clambered out of the pool screaming in fear, surprise, and sometimes just annoyance.  The rest of the Sword entered in the ensuing confusion.  A large clot of  mud in Yarks hands seeped out and landed in the pool fouling the water as it sunk to the bottom.  As the mud touched the bottom of the stone basin it opened the portal, a green beam of light erupting from the bottom.  Quickly the adventurers jumped through the open portal leaving the steamy bathhouse and appearing shin deep in a horsepond at the center of a ruined town.  

Colorful tents, tree stands, the skeletons of stone buildings and nearby caves made up the only structures in Faunel.  Woodsman of all stripes went about their business paying the seven in the pond scant attention.  Standing at near the center of the pond sat a great stone head easily the size of a small house.  A snarling face with glowing blue eyes regarded the men in the pool.  The Sword approached the massive stone monolith hailing the Gatekeeper by name.  A deep resonant voice boomed in their heads, "I am Wrath.  Why do you seek passage into the Wilds?"  The Tymoran cleric stepped forward an addressed the stone faced inquisitor.  "I am Faltye Gainsborough and my companions are warriors seeking passage to prevent an invasion by demons within the Beastlands."  Wrath concentrated on those gathered before him sensing the auras of Chaos and Order among them, Goodness in most.  None radiated evil nor were any veiled in secrecy.  "Demons you say?  How is it you know this Luckseeker for I would know how fiends dare to trespass in the wild Heavens?"  Falyte chose his next words carefully heeding the warning given by Factol Darius of the beings suspicious nature.  "An auger foretold of the breach by forces led or supplied by the tanar'ri.  We seek to halt the incursion and preserve the sanctity of the great wilderness.  We ask for passage to Signpost and from there we travel Oceanus."  Wrath sensed there was some detail missing or excluded from the human's story but  believed the information accurate.  He had sensed a change in his connection with the Beastlands through the Gate.  Some great evil was abroad in the Wilds and it flitted just outside his consciousness.  He would send these warriors through and even recommended a river pilot he knew to be trustworthy.


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