# The book of Soleimnon (01/13/04)



## abri (Dec 8, 2003)

This campaign started as a way of testing the viability of some character concept as well as some new house rules/new feats. We quickly found that writting a story hour really helped visualize the campaign. So soon the test-campaign became a real campaign.
The three PC are (not all were initially there):
Caern Massud, important noble of the Krahl empire. He is known as the foremost scholar on ancient legends, but still take care of the familly's business (ie, weapon manufactures). In his heart he is an idealist, trying to help everyone. He starts as a hand to hand combat specialist (Kensai/monk)

Shandrelle, a human raised by elves in the Laers world (where human kingdom are xenophobic and sexist...). She sees herself as a mercenary fighter, even though she hasn't had much success lately. (rogue with many combat feats and the animal cohort feat)

Mandum, human cleric of Mieli, god of heroism in the Laers world. He is the typical example of the knight in shining armor. The city of Vaan, in which he was born, has been conquered by a horde of giant wolves. He is one of the leader of the resistance, organizing guerilla from hidden caverns in the nearby forest...​
The initial world (simply named Krahl by the players, but the locals don't have a name for it) is indian influenced for the style. Caste are extremly important and based on ethnic group. Caern for example belongs to the high nobility and has a paler skin, long straight hair and green eyes. Most castes have darker skin and brown eyes. Most of the world belongs to the Krahl empire, who governs these annexed country with an important and influent bureaucracy. The technological level is quite high, but magic is extinct. Psionics are present, with almost all psion beeing very low level. There are many stories of occult societies of psion-assasins who have develloped potent psychic powers.
The second world is named Laers, is traditional-medieval, without feodality. But the story will describe it as it goes.
The campaign alternate between the two worlds, with planar travel between the two becoming more and more frequent as level increase:

*Part I*
Imagine a noble’s suite, each wall covered with silk tapestries, on the floor lies several furs. Several rooms, enough for a company of soldier to barrack, made for but one person. In the main room light shine from several balconies where flowers grow from climbing vines.
In the center of the room stand two men, surrounded by several guards: they are practicing martial arts, both with very different style. One is dressed in the traditional style of an imperial officer, with tight linen clothes and no armor, a gold and leather headband sole proof of his rank. He stands tall, athletics, moving as a panther, with speed and strength, each of his strikes shows his training, precise and swift. The other man is of average size, average build and appears more relaxed: he wears loose dark silk clothes with no distinguishable mark, a noble training in an art he doesn’t need. 
The noble strikes are laced by instinct, feeling. While his opponent looks like a panther, the noble is a panther, anticipating every move, reading his opponent, his moves, his feelings, and his thoughts…
In just a few seconds the officer lies on the ground unconscious. Most of the guards are cheering, they too bear dark clothes, a silver feline claw marking on their chest: guards of the Massud family.
The tallest guard has a much darker skin than any one present in the room, the two gold stars under the silver claw making him the captain of the guards, he is laughing:
“Lord Caern, one day your father is going to cut my tanned head! I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you, make sure no harm comes to you… And you go and spar with experienced fighters.”
“If I don’t spar I don’t improve. If I don’t improve I feel useless. You know that Anshu…”
“Oh, Caern, few nobles could face you in combat. Kampa-kut is just supposed to be a ceremonial art for nobles. A polite way to show that they are not helpless, even without weapon in the emperor’s court. You have turned it from a courtly art into a real combat form.”
“Libsan mest. Baolsan vinko, feh est!”
“Ea eo tist, feh euh *Rical!”​The rest of the guards left the room, the officer having awoken, only Anshu and Caern stayed, sitting at a white marble table.
“You play a dangerous game Caern. You are popular in the court because people see you as an historian, the keeper of old legend, a kind and harmless scholar. But I fear some families my start soon to guess how dangerous you are.”
“I know, and I have made so few progress. I need to find a way to speed up events. Our society is becoming gangrenous, bloated by too many conquests. Look at this suite, think at the amount of gold spend to build it. Think at how many people could be fed our housed with that gold. And then consider that by noble standard it is barely what is expected for a high noble!”
“Change takes time, Caern. Without your father, the gangrene would have already killed this country. The emperor owes him his life and he has used this influence well.”
“Yes but even the emperor cannot make drastic change in fear of the nobles revolting. The throne needs to grow stronger…”
“You dream too much of the old legends. A just society is as extinct as magic and the creatures that came with it. Only strength and wit survives, and they don’t bring kindness”​Caern was the first to smell something was wrong. Smell was the correct term: an increasingly powerful odor of sulfur. Anshu was the first to detect the women in the corner of the room.
“Assasin!” He screamed and jumped at the women, drawing his great sword and aiming it at her neck in one swift move. She just looked at him and he was propelled flying across the room. 
“Stop, both of you! If this women was sent to kill me so directly she would much more experienced than even you, Anshu. But somehow I doubt she wants to kill me.”​ She wore a simple almost transparent white silk robe, typical for a cheap courtesan. She was beautiful and her moves showed no cheapness. The whole situation screamed of the killers employed by secret society or the imperial family. She was smiling:
“I see: I choose you well.”
“And what would that be for?”
“You are the most famous expert on old lore, you know all that is to know about how magic worked in the old days. I think you might be able to understand it enough to activate an ancient magic artifact.”​Caern noticed an ancient tome in her hands, he was sure it wasn’t there before. The book was bound in deep red leather, its surface covered in darker runes, each runes seeming to be made of smaller symbols. He knew magic did not exist anymore, but he didn’t have any doubt that this was magical. He could feel it in his guts and in his soul.
“Since when has the barrier between planes weakened this much?”​She laughed: 
“ So you know what I am! Most impressed!”​She threw the book at Caern’s foot. 
“I’m giving two weeks to activate the book. By then I’ll come back and give you more instructions. You know what I can do, so I won’t have to insist on you obeying!”​Suddenly she wasn’t there. All this had lasted but a minute.
Anshu was still on the floor: 
“Lord what was that all about?”
“She could stay just a short time…”
“What?”
“Oh! Sorry Anshu. She was not human. She came from another place and could only cross the barrier between words for a short moment.”​Anshu was visibly shocked:
“Are you telling, the age of magic is coming back?”
“ No. She would not need me if this were the case. I think a darker time is coming. Gangrene might be the least of our worries. I need to activate this book but not the way she intended.”
“But all the legends about magical tomes tell that they are lethal to use.”
“I know and I know how to act. Leave me please I need to be alone.”​Anshu was going to object but he saw the look on Caern’s face and knew there was no changing his mind. He left the suite.

Caern was holding the book firmly. Preparing himself for the test of his soul.


----------



## abri (Dec 13, 2003)

Note: the strange tongue Anshu and Caern sometime use is Aeri, the legendary tongue of magic. Almost no one knows it, so it is used as a secret language. It is also used by those that know it for important oath (due to the belief that the words of this tongues do contain power.)

Caern concentrated on the runes on the cover of the tome: runes were composed of runes, runes showed pentagrams, pentagrams showed more runes, runes started showing images. Images of tortures, murders, depravities, rapes, human sacrifices and other crimes Caern did not have a word for. He concentrated on what he was seeing and did not try to resist the visions; on the contrary he started imagining what pure evil would look like. Depravity summoned by the tome where countered by depravity from Caern’s imagination. For what seemed like hours sins met sins, until Caern controlled what he was seeing: soon he was in a room of basalt walls, on a dark steel throne, facing a red robed man in another identical throne. He could not see his face covered by a heavy hood…
“Ah, I see you made it to this place, I am most impressed. And before you ask, I AM the book of Soleimnon.”
“What is this place?”
“Caern, why do you ask questions if you know the answer? This is your mind of course!”
“Then what do you want of me in order to let me use your power?”
“Nothing, nothing. The price of each power will be paid in time. Or has already been paid, that really depend on how you look at it. But let’s talk about the real danger. You are holding in your hand an artifact capable of changing your world; you are under the scrutiny of a major demon. And I might add that is not the only demon ready to prey on your fragile world. So what do you plan to do? What have you guessed from the maelstrom you are now part of?”
“Let’s see! The demon could only stay for a short moment; this is why her plan was so direct. She had no time for subterfuge. That also means she should have a hard time tacking me if I move.”​The hooded figure was visibly nodding: 
“Indeed, indeed. I was right to influence her mind. You are indeed the correct choice… In the book you shall find the symbols you need to escape this place. But first you have to learn how to wield magic, that is after all what I was created to teach.”​Bolts of eldritch energy converged on Caern, he was wracked with pain as his mind filled with knowledge.

He awoke in his room, the book, right next to him lying on the floor. He could not believe what he had just learned. How could magic be so simple when no one had been able to practice it in centuries? He started shifting his perception as he had just learned. He expected magic to be almost non-present, barely a faint wind. That would have explained why sorcery was extinct. He was surprised! The flowers on his balcony irradiated magic, so did many of the sculptures in his suite an among all the ring on his finger, in fact the whole place was almost unbearable to watch with this new vision. Approaching the balcony he started to glimpse another reality: the market street of Begahn did not light up under this new sight: shadows covered the place, dark tendrils of smoke went from corners to corners. And he saw the misery of the people under a new darkness…

A few hours latter Caern was at his desk, Anshu was sitting opposing him. The latter looked visibly nervous:
“Caern what are you doing? I have brought your crossbow and the papers you requested. But I feel something is wrong.”
“Well this tome must leave the palace, to be more precise it must leave this world. But it contains the knowledge to save our world… So I am going with it.”
Anshu stood up and started shouting:
“Then I shall go with you.”
“No! That is an order… My friend, I will be gone for more than a year. What would happen of this country if all my plans were unsupervised? I need you here. You know almost all I know and you feel all I feel. My father will need your help to direct all of them. And before you object grab this!”​Caern threw a sheathed sword toward Anshu, who grabbed it in one hand.
“What is this? No wait; this is Aanbal, the sword of your family! What are you doing?”
“With this, my father will now you have all my trust. In fact I just gave you all my power. You are a Massud now, my brother to be precise.”​Anshu was almost out of breath 
“But, but… I am not of the high caste!”
“I am the prince Caern, bearing the sacred seals of the Massud, not even the emperor could undo what I just did. I know what you will use this power for, this is why I gave it to you.”
“*Rical! Sanlib eh vesti, *unsan esti”
“I know brother, I know.”​


----------



## abri (Jan 9, 2004)

An intense red sun in the sky, shining on a desert mountain, desert as far as the eye could see to the south, a chain of mountain to the west and a verdant primal forest to the north. Caern was surprised: he had used the book of Soleimnon to plane shift here and he expected to arrive in the MIDDLE of a desert, in a demon-infested ruin or any other imaginable hellhole or deathtrap. This made no sense: what kind of evil traitorous artifact was that? At most he was looking at a two days mountain hike to the forest, and there were many place to rest on the way. As a matter of fact there was a grotto in the mountainside just 20 yards from his location. Good: he could easily see a thunderstorm coming from the north. Suddenly alarms rang in his mind: desert, mountain, thunderstorm, and grotto? He swore loudly “Dragon!”

He knew there was no point in running away, all legends agreed on one point: dragon were highly territorial and would resent a human coming so close to their lair. His only chance was to face the dragon and either negotiate or slay it. He did not like the chance of either succeeding. Entering the grotto he prepared himself: he changed his vision and reached for his soul. Around he could see the complex patterns orbiting around the representation of his being. He picked three, his arms started moving animated by the pattern, and he uttered the word of power converting the stored ethereal energy into tangible forces. First translucent plate appeared and took form on his body, quickly forming an ornate blue armor of pure force, eldritch energy started running along his body in a semi-random pattern going across black runes of protection which covered his skin while his clothe were glowing a soft blue light. He was ready…
He rushed in the cavern; there was no point for subtlety, as the dragon already knew he was there. 

They met in the main room of the cavernous complex. Several tapestries dotted the walls, as well as many trinkets on the floor: all indicated that the dragon preyed on merchant caravans. The dragon itself was a lot less impressive that Caern expected, a lot smaller too. As the dragon rushed toward him, Caern again grasped a magical pattern from his spirit and hurled a black sphere that hit the dragon square in the chest. The dragon’s first attack was easily deflected by the eldritch energy protecting Caern. For a minute that seemed a century for both combatants, they circled around each other, lashing almost blindly with as many strikes as they could, but the sphere had drained the dragon strength and he was loosing. The dragon left eye was covered with blood dripping from a wound on his skull, his left shoulder moved awkwardly from repeated strikes to this exact joint. Caern left arm was red with blood, moving by pure willpower, his ribcage hurt from several deep gashes…
The dragon suddenly took of and hovering over Caern breathed lightning on him. The bolt struck next to his feet projecting him to the ground. 
“Great! Now my ribs are definitely broken!”​One more time Caern vision changed, ancient words were uttered and an almost invisible sphere composed of waves in the air struck the dragon. The blow was weak and both knew it: 
“Do you think you can convince me to fight on the ground with such a weak spell?”
“No, but I don’t have to convince you. You WILL fight on the ground.”​Caern ran toward the hovering dragon, suddenly projecting his left leg in the air behind him, as he jumped from his right leg he started moving both leg in a circular motion, projecting him toward the dragon. He kicked the dragon on his shoulder joint, stunning him.
On the ground Caern struck at the dragon with all his remaining strength, finally breaking his skull. The fight was over and he needed rest.
He had time to observe the cavern now and he found a leather bag under a cheap copper statue. Even though the bag looked empty from the outside, it contained almost a thousand coins: the coins, all made of silver, were very similar to the Slivar of his country, maybe a little bigger. In a sense that brought him comfort, at least this world had something in common with his. He might survive here after all…

After a night of rest and an hour of meditation spend weaving back eldritch patterns to his soul he left the cavern. For two days he climbed down the mountain, taking refuge from thunderstorms several times. Finally he reached the forest and his advance slowed: he spent a lot of time examining the trees, the flowers, the small animals and insects around him. Some seemed to have come directly from his world, other bore small differences, but nothing was really alien to him. After a day in the forest he heard shouts in commons, the voice was deep, too deep and too powerful. He walked slowly toward the voice, started hearing several and decided to prepare for the worst. Covered with his armor of force he resumed his course, soon he saw five giants exhorting a group of young men of women to advance faster. The humans’ clothes definitely qualified as rags and they looked exhausted and famished: prisoners, slaves maybe? The giants stood nine feet tall, with military armor (not really well maintained…) and big axes. One of them stood out as the leader, wearing a banded mail. None of the giants looked smart. It took a while for Caern to put a name on the creatures, but bedtime stories from his childhood helped him: Ogres. 

A while latter a crossbow-bolt surprised the ogres, striking one of them, followed by a lone human jumping out of the bushes. The leader did not have the time to speak before the ogres charged the fool. None of their blow struck.
“Think you fool, look at him. Can’t you see he is covered in magical protection!” ​Caern dodged from ogre to ogre, each time striking with accuracy and the help of the energy flowing through his fist. From four ogres around him, there was soon only three standing, then two, one. And then none…
The humans still hadn’t moved, terrified by what was happening. The leader hadn’t moved either.
“Good! Now they are dead, more money for me. Just one wizard to kill. One wizard out of spells.” ​The leader was smiling; at least Caern thought that was a smile. And then he charged. Caern barely had the time to summon a black sphere and throw it at the ogre before he had to dodge his massive axe. The sphere had ravaged the ogre sapping his strength, making his strike slow and easy to avoid. It was easy for Caern to finish the ogre, stunning him then striking repeatedly at his chest until the ribs gave in. But not before the ogre had landed a lucky blow on him.
Finally one of the women came to Caern.
“You are wounded. Can we help you.”
“Thanks, but it is you that still need help. All of you! Go through the ogres’ bags and share among you the food and money that you’ll find! You’ll need to be rested and strong to make it to safety!”​While they searched, two of the women banded Caern’s wound.
“We are most thankful. We lived in the village of Yhnenbar to the north. These monsters attacked us in the night and destroyed the village. They killed everyone but us the young men and women that could be easily sold as slave.”
“Do you know where they were bringing you?”
“Not really. The dark mountains maybe? Who knows? There are many lands covered by darkness in the south.”
“Do you know of any safe place to go?”
“There is the city of Vandyl to the north east. It is the castle of the king.”
“How far?”
“About two weeks worth of walking.”
“Ok, I’ll escort you there. We’ll leave in two hours.”​A young man, barely fourteen came near Caern.
“My lord we have found this cloak in their bags, it is ornate and should belong to you.”​Caern was surprised at the title, looked at his clothes, saw the elaborate silk and understood. Even after these two battles he still looked like royalty. Well at least that what he would look like after a bath and a little repair on his clothes…
The cloak was ornate with tiny runes on its edge and leaf motif covered the outside. Changing his sight he could see the calm magical pattern of the cloak, in harmony with nature. Something he would have difficulties activating, but magical nonetheless.
“Thanks…”
“No. It is us who are most thankful. You save us from slavery. Give us the money that belongs to you by right of combat and even offer escort. In our misfortune we are lucky that you found us.”​Caern was thankful for the calm travel. His ribs still hurt and he could go without a fight for a few more days. He took the time to gain information about this world, most of the information coming from Henry, who used to work with his father as a merchant. They were in the kingdom of Vandyl, the mountains he came from were called Thundermountains and were avoided by humans due to the dragons that lived there. Orcs, ogres or other dark creature often attacked the kingdom and the king’s army was insufficient to patrol all the land. From all theses discussions Caern gathered that there was only two noble titles: king and lord. The latter described anyone with a castle, while a king controlled a city…
Finally after two weeks they reached the city of Vandyl. It reminded Caern of the city-fortress so common in the south of his world: tall white walls surrounded the city, with about twenty tall towers dotting the wall. The city was huge and Caern estimated the population at several tens of thousands. This explained the many ships loaded with grains that came in the city by the river going through it.
The group came to one of the gate: normally many caravans went through, but they had all stepped aside letting the group through. After all two dozens refugee escorted by a noble was a rare sight (a little cantrip helping Caern’s appearance). The guards did stop the group for just a moment and after a few explanations brought Caern to the king.
The palace was a lot less impressive than the imperial palace, but still showed a total lack of practicality: the king trusted his army to keep peace, not his walls. The throne room was of blue marble, with tapestries showing the king on the wall. The king himself was wearing ceremonial plate armor, around forty years old, with long black hairs and a short pointed beard. To his right was the court wizard. That Caern was sure: about his age, wearing long red robes adorned with mystic symbols and holding an ebony staff. He couldn’t have looked more “wizardish” if he had tried. Of course several chain mail wearing guards were present and Caern could easily see their captain standing behind one of the marble pillar.
“We thank you for the rescue of our subjects. Lord…?”
“Massud. Lord Caern Massud, my king.”
“I am unfamiliar with the name. From which kingdom do you come?”
“Let’s just say I have traveled a long distance to reach your kingdom. I am sorry that I cannot give more details with so many ears around.”​To say that everyone looked at Caern with an inquisitive look would be a clear understatement. It was the wizard that broke the silence:
“Greeting Lord Massud! I heard from one of the refugee that you were a wizard. Would this be true?”
“Indeed. I dwell in the magical arts, although I wish I mastered those with more experience.”
The wizard was smiling.
“It is most fortunate. Men that master the art are few. A new occult protector is always welcome.”
“Keil speaks the truth. Since his master died, my kingdom has severely lacked magical support. I, king Raul welcome you.”​Caern understood the meaning: they did not trust him, but a wizard was something they would rather not antagonize if it weren’t necessary. 

The visit of the city was most interesting: several temples (god of heroes, goddess of magic, goddess of the earth…), many shops and taverns… All in all, the city was bursting with life. And patrolled by soldiers too. The military presence was abnormal for a city. It confirmed what he had guessed by seeing the king: he held his crown by military might alone. He was failing as a protector and feared that someone might overthrow him. Somebody who appeared as a new protector… Just like Caern, hence the cold welcome.

The dragon’s silver was most useful in obtaining a room at the most luxurious inn in the city. Caern used the time in the city to buy many arcane materials: mortars, flasks, bowls, spices, various metals and herbs. He commissioned an artisan to build leather chest to hold this entire portable laboratory. He spent the rest of his time testing his magical aptitude in his room and visiting taverns.
He had reason for both: first, the seal of the Massud was so attuned to him that he had no difficulty enchanting it. Second he needed to hear legends from bards and storytellers. And lastly he needed to find someone with knowledge of the wilderness.

A lot of legends ran around about a cursed elven town to the north: its inhabitants had been so obsessed with magic that they had learned forbidden rituals, damning the whole town in exchange for absolute power. For one hundred years no one had come back from the town and merchants traveling near had seen strange shadows in the woods, calling the town the ruins of shadow…
With so many bards telling this tale, it smelled of political manipulation: a warning against those that dwelled in the arcane arts. A clear reaction to his presence, he wondered who was paying the bards. At least the info was too good to pass.

Finally he found what he was looking for: in a inn he knew to have many military regular he found a lone woman sitting at a table, a grey wolf sitting right next to her. A quick change of sight, informed him that she owned magical weapons. He knew everyone was looking at him. He sat at her table throwing a dark look at the rest of the soldiers, who quickly stopped looking at him.
“Do you often sit at a girl table without being invited!”​She was slightly smaller than him but considerably more athletic, with long auburn hair. He back was to the wall, her eyes roaming the room: an experienced warrior.
“Only when it is the skill of the girl I’m interested in. I need a guide.”
“And why would I be interested?”
“Because you know who I am. Hell, the whole city must have heard of me by now! Because you know WHAT I am and what I can do. And most importantly, because you understand what I am offering you.”
“And what would that be?”
“A chance for a better life. A chance to become whatever you desire. A chance to be richer than any king or to become a queen if you wish.”
“I feel like a demon is tempting me. Are you an archmage or a fiend?”
“Neither, neither. Let me explain my offer: I seek magical artifact to augment my mastery of magic. For reasons I’d rather not discuss, I have no real need for money. I do need a partner though. I plan to explore several ruins, most of which will be infested with fiends or other monsters, but the reward will be worth the risks.”
“And why me? I am but a frail girl!”
“Wearing a magical ring, and magical swords, followed by a wolf. Yeah, frail. I wish I was so frail!”​Both exploded in laughter.


----------



## el-remmen (Jan 10, 2004)

Question: Is this your actual campaign, a background for a character or just a story?

Suggestion: Using paragraph breaks between blocks of text and lines of dialogue would make it easier to read.

I am fascinated by the culture.  I'll read more when I get a chance.


----------



## abri (Jan 13, 2004)

They had spoken much more this night. This Caern was eager for information: the countries she had been to, the ones she had heard stories about, the monsters she had faced… It would have looked like needless chatter if he hadn’t insisted on so many details, even comparing what she had just told him to bits she had told him several hours ago!
She still had some doubt about this guy, but she had no real choice in the matter: these kinds of adventures were her only escape to glory and fortune. And these adventures required magical knowledge. That was one of the lessons of her foster father…
She was raised by grey elves in the forest of Ovel, never knowing whom her real parents where. From the elves she had learned an elegant form of combat and an intimate knowledge of nature. But she had to push her teacher to learn anything: they had all the time in the world. She did not…
She stopped reminiscing as Caern make sign to stop: It was time to make camp. From a bag she thought empty he pulled two tents and several smaller bags.
“I went for items that keeps well. I hope you like smoked ham and salted biscuits, because that’s all I brought. Well apart from some wine of course.”​He was smiling as he opened a small earthen jar and poured some wine in two cups. One thing was for sure: this noble was rich and used to luxury. The wine was excellent, much more expensive than what she was used to. That reminded her that she still could not understand why someone like him would need to risk his life like that…
Several days latter they had reached the outskirt of the ruins of shadow. She saw for the first time Caern use his magic: first he raised his fist to the sky, spoke in a strange tongue as his gold ring shone light, then he moved both arms in a strange pattern, each moves synchronized with an unknown syllable… The armor he summoned was both magnificent and utterly unpractical. Well, until she realized he was moving as if the armor had no weight! Now she knew for sure he was a real wizard. 
Grah, her wolf was the first to notice that something was wrong around the ruins they were going through. As he growled she stepped closer to Caern and readied her swords waiting for whatever might attack. Caern was again whispering in his strange tongue when six figures stepped from various cover and charged them. She could have sworn that only shadows were there a moment ago! She thought they were grey elves. That is until she realized that their clothes were torn and bloodied, they face wracked with pains, all from the horrible tortures that their bodies still showed traces: their eyelids had been removed, their mouths sewn shut, multiples black-iron needles and hooks pierced they flesh… Even through their pain and inability to speak, their curved double blades expressed their intention perfectly.
Just has they were ending their charge and before she had time to act, Caern spoke in a loud voice and she barely had time to shut her eyes as a strong light engulfed her. When she opened her eyes she saw all her opponents were now blind. It only took the two of them nine more seconds to kill all of them. Neither even thought about taking prisoners: demonic influence was clearly at work and the tortured elves could not speak in the first place.
Both were able to admire each other’s style: each of her strike connected with a throat killing her victim in a few moments; Caern used his fist in ways she had never heard of and as fast as elven blade masters!
“We must find whomever did this. And soon, or we will end up fighting over a hundred of those. I don’t have enough power to cast this spell many more time.”
“How many times?”
“Well I have two more of those ready, as well as a spell to augment my fighting abilities for a short time.”
“Good but where do you suggest we look? This is a whole town. The demon that created these horrors could be anywhere!”
“Did you not observe how easily they merged from shadows, from cover both of us had looked at and seen nothing in them? They are in contact with darkness somehow, shadows… The demon that caused all this must share these traits: during the day he must take refuge in shadows. Our best bet is the temple in the center of town.”
“Why a sacred place? There are bigger place to hide.”
“A perverted temple would be most comfortable for a demon and make him feel like a worshipped good. Also such a place would magnify his power.”​They rushed to the ruined temple of Dana. They had guessed right and twelve tortured elves were guarding the temple. 
Caern’s _lightburst _ spell neutralized eight of them, which she took care of finishing before they recovered. Caern delayed the four intact ones, concentrating on not getting flanked. His version of not getting flanked involved breaking the skulls of the first two who tried… Soon she was covered in blood and she escorted the wounded Caern to the entrance of the temple. Many more elves where converging toward the temple, only visible when light directly shone upon them. Caern uttered a few words and her right sword started emitting light, several more and his fist were covered with strange runes…

They rushed inside and she immediately thanked the gods that she could not see all the room. What she could see made her sick, it was too much horror for any human to observe. The depraved torture she saw in this room she would barely remember, only an intense feeling of horror has her brain blocked what she was seeing and made her fight as if in a nightmare. She never saw where the deadly breath came from, but she was able to dodge it at the last moment, so did Grah, but Caern took the full intensity of the magic attack. She could hear laughter from the center of the room, laughter that turned in a scream of rage as light exploded once again. 
She jumped on the demon with Grah and quickly slashed an artery on the demon’s leg. He was almost ten foot tall, with a muscular ebony body from which dark smokes emerged. From his lips she could still see frost forming from his cold breath. Caern charged a few seconds after her, striking the demon on his leg joint. For a demon who knew so much about pain he could not resist it well and was stunned…
Grah took the opportunity and tripped the demon to the ground. Both Caern and her rained blows on the demon that never stood up.
As they stopped she heard the demons: 
“Fools, you have doomed the elves. They will travel to the abyss as I die. You have only prolonged their torture. Only an elven wizard could have saved them”​The demon was too weak to laugh so his grin had to express his cruelty.
It was then that she realized she could no longer see Caern. Suddenly a pillar of light appeared in the middle of the temple and she saw Caern in its middle. The light quickly expanded, tearing the screaming demon apart, and soon covering the whole town.
Only a normal slightly ruined temple was standing there. No traces of the horror she had seen where left.
“What in Dana’s name happened?”
“I saw a ring on a pedestal during the fight. The pedestal was covered with runes of protection but the ring was not elvish. I guessed the curse on the elves somehow had a link with this ring. Otherwise the demon would have possessed the ring by now.”
“How did you neutralize the protections?”
“I did not. I just make my soul appear like the one the protection were instructed to let pass.”​


----------

