# Chrysalis (updated 02-15-05)



## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

This setting grew from my fascination with Bactria, a Greek dominated state in central Asia that arose shortly after Alexander’s death. Anyone with knowledge of Afghanistan, particularly the Pashtuns, will sense it immediately.  Persia and Mauryan India can be found, and Scythian nomads ride into view on occasion as well.  

However, while post-Successor War central Asia is a heavy influence, the world its own. One of my player’s once wrote: "(I like) the great detail. The feeling that my character is actually not in the standard European D&D setting- instead of just the same game with funny names for the characters."  I could not have asked for higher praise.

Our game is plot heavy.  Victory is never certain and this world does not forgive hesitation or error.  Welcome!

Tormenet


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## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

*Heroes*

(DM’s note: This is our second campaign.  The first ended with the party being consumed by a green wave of unnatural energy.  The new campaign begins with their apparent “resurrection.” Thus, most of the heroes have “died” at some point. All will be made clear.)

*Ajax of Haigonopolis*
Ajax was orphaned at a young age. He fell in with the wrong crowd, was sentenced to work in the mines and eventually stumbled, literally, upon the Durrani town of Shar Jehna. It was there that he met a few other young men and began his adventures by fighting rival Durrani tribes and the evil Ghinn. Further travels took him across the region where he was beginning to get a reputation among some major figures. 

Ajax was a victim of a green wave of energy which killed him. For some reason he was pulled from the abyss. A strange mark has appeared on his forehead.

*Jamili Legens*
Jamili’s life began, and ended, in another era.  The gnome was witness to a battle where the Sovereigns, masters of all Jamili knew, were overcome by the army of a tattooed enemy.  

During the fighting, Jamili was executed by One of Those Who Enforce the Will. Jamili is aware that he continuing to violate the Will by acting without instruction, but apparently, the Will is no more. 

*Larassamnes Terrera*
Lara wields her faith in a disciplined fashion to destroy the unfaithful without mercy. 

During the siege of Phrada, Lara became an adherent of Equilian Eternalism, a radical new interpretation of the Eternal Faith. Under the care of Equila and the tutelage of Cato, the two key figures of Equilian Eternalism, Lara learned to focus her devotion in a manner to further the sect. 

Following the Ghinn War and attempting to leave behind the memories of the siege, Lara went north.

Far from her home city, Lara entered the small town of Jahennum and met Talos. A human, and something more, the warrior easily subdued Lara. The cleric’s faith has been tested as she watched Talos’ sadistic joy.

*Zaveon * 
Zaveon grew up at the Citadel of Rock in northern Draconia. His life had always been filled with battle, repelling bandits and incursions of Jola nomads from the Great Steppe.  One day he discovered a connection to something grander. Tapping into something beyond himself he brought his father back from the brink of death. The youth was quickly sent away to be trained and raised by others like himself. After doing a bit of growing up, he was sent back to help the defenders of the Citadel.

Zaveon’s life was cut short by a Jola blade. Having been tracked for days, the youth was cornered. The nomad who ended Zaveon said some odd things before killing him: “Don’t worry, son, this will be easy; it’s how I got my name. Besides, you’re needed elsewhere and I need my son back.” 

*Zyuki Meikai*
A woman from the Song Empire, and of that nation’s dominant race, who found that a second chance at life was not to her liking.

(DM’s note: While Songians and Humans share a similar form, they are not the same race. Songians are tall and generally appear emaciated. They have yellow skin and white hair. Songian crafts have a very unique style that avoids straight lines, so a Songian can frequently be identified by equipment alone. Songian culture abhors emotional displays. Their inscrutable expressions have earned them the nickname “flat faces” and “dead men.” Taught from youth to distrust outsiders, Songians tend to be reserved and formal. The Song Empire is an orderly place. Everyone knows their status in relation to those around them. Outsiders make everyone uncomfortable as it sometimes takes time to assess their place in the social hierarchy, however, this place is usually at the bottom.)


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## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

*Plot Lines*

To be filled in once the story gets going.


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## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

*Introduction Part 1: The Ghinn War*

War reigned in the year 750 After Proof of Faith (APF). Of the three Great Powers, two were destroyed. 

South of my homeland, the Sind Empire fell to civil war. One hundred and fourteen successors claimed the throne of Atmananda Sindh, whose pacifist reign terminated upon his assassination. 

In the west, the Cassandric Empire was invaded by Jola nomads from the north. Led by Slayer-of-Nations, the horse warriors scattered the army of Cassander Callinicus. They laid claim to more than half of the former empire. 

Song, the Great Power of the east, remained aloof. Focus on construction of a wall to keep out the horse borne of the north, along with a societal penchant for isolationism, occupied their attention. 

In the lesser central region known as Aryana, armed conflict also dominated. The Ghinn, arisen after generations of sleep, fought an alliance of Bastiyaan, the Phradan Tyrants, and some of the Duraani tribes. The clashes in the Sind Killer Mountains and Darya River Valley were chaotic and characterized by double crossing. Early Ghinn victories were offset when the Durrani Dost tribe abandoned the Ghinn and joined the alliance. 

A strategy developed by the Bastiyaani Thousand Commander Demaratus and Phrada's Commander of the Muster, the Wearer of White Cyris of Jehna, pulled a Ghinn army into a bloody stalemate below the walls, and in the streets, of Phrada. 

As the year reached its waning months, it appeared that equilibrium had been reached. 

The Catastrophe changed all. 

—Catrika of Jehna, A History of My Times


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## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

*Introduction Part 2: Song Comes West*

Following reports of obscene arcane emanations in the west, the Total Emperor gave permission for an expedition to cross outside of His lands and investigate. The official report includes references of "a desert full of things abominable" and "vulture yards birthed of a barren philosophy." 

The military camp established by the expedition was made permanent and retired veterans were ordered to the site. Ka-Pi-Sa has been under construction for over a decade. 

—Catrika of Jehna, A History of My Times


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## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

*Introduction Part 3: The end of the last campaign*

The rising sun is red. 

Behind your group, the mountains wear a nauseous green. There is no doubt that its origin is Koilada Kallandria, the valley whose secrets have defeated you.  As you race south, the green taint pursues your group.

The first to fall is Babu.  His screams motivate renewed effort from muscles pushed beyond their limits.

Ra’al Dost falls next. Tariq Dost and Ajax, side by side, are then consumed.

Finally, Asad knows his strength is ended.  He turns toward the filth and defiantly raises the Staff of Pure Souls.  

It makes no difference.

For each of the group, there is a sensation of intense pain.  For a moment your senses seem to expand. You feel the land wrenching and reshaping.  You feel the life in nearby settlements and a city dissolve, leaving only proscribed things.

There is a sensation of cold and turmoil.  There is a sensation of being rent and split.

And then you fall, slamming into hard desert as if from a great height.  The ground is a muddy mixture of blood and sand.  Around you is a corpse field, the twisted wreckage of a number of newly dead. Limbs are buckled into inappropriate angles and faces bear the look of ungodly pain.

Covered in blood, both clotted and flowing, a naked Tariq pushes himself to his knees.  A robed man lurches to his feet and staggers to the Dost. Grabbing the tribal, the robed man—whose eyes are flowing down his face—screams in Tariq’s face.

“You cur! Make it right!” he yells.

Tariq’s form seems to become elastic and fall in upon itself. Even as the robed man’s life ends, the Dost is gone, replaced by a smaller humanoid form.

Through the rushing in your ears comes the call of wicked things.  A primal urgency pushes you to stand.  Your struggle to survive begins at the moment of you rebirth.

The rising sun is red.


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## Tormenet (Feb 3, 2005)

My player’s decided they wanted to write this story hour from their character’s perspective, so each character will tell a piece of the story in turn. 

Here starts our new tale, Chrysalis…


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## Tormenet (Feb 4, 2005)

*Session 1, Part 1: Zyuki Meikai*

I have been gone only a little while, but the wetness on my hands is blood and I don't know where it came from. 

I woke in a strange place. I remember something violent happening and then I found myself here.  The sun is in the east; it is an unnatural red.  I stand at the center of four pillars which in turn stand among ruins of an architecture that is unknown to me.  All are crafted of a strange porous green rock.  Beyond the ruins is a shimmering wall, like heat haze or mist.  There are a number of bodies here, all dead within the past few moments. Before their death they had arranged themselves ritualistically and I am at the center of their ritual space.  

The blood that pools in a sticky morass around me is not my own. 

It is quiet, and I realize that sound hasn't been swallowed by magic but that there is nothing to hear in this place. There are no sounds of nature that I wish would warm my ears with its gentle hums, then I notice that I cannot even hear my own heart beating. Instead of gasping, my lungs push air that my body does not need. I am one of the vile walking dead. 

This has got to be the grossest day ever. 

Someone else stirs and lifts himself from among the bodies to face me. He is a tall man and I can tell by his deathly pallor that he is also undead like me. His angular features are entrancing, but I tear my vision away to see two others rising from the carnage, and wonder if all the fresh bodies will rise as we have. The two are a gnome and a human of Ionian stock, both with the same look of death about them. 

I moved away from the circle of bloody bodies and I take the hint from the others and begin sifting through the bodies to find something to defend myself with, I can hear the screeches of things unnatural closing on us. My hands rub blood away from wonderfully made weapons and ability amplifying trinkets. 

Though this might be the grossest day ever, it could also be the richest. 

Among the bodies, I notice things of flesh that appear to be worn like armor and held like weapons. Corded muscle covers one man’s chest much as a breastplate.  

In moments, several devilish beings appear to assault us. It seems as though these beings don't wish us to rise from death, and slowly we understand that we need to work together to survive. We engage the monstrosities in battle. 

As we fight, I found myself stunned by one of the being's strange powers. The wiry Ionian suddenly transported me to safety, using some arcanist’s trick, where I could clear my head. After engaging them again more of the strange monsters appeared, successive waves that seem drawn to this place, this occurrence. 

I saw the Ionian follow the gnome into the nearby wall of mist and quickly the large man went with them. 

Sensing an opportunity, I quickly dashed back into the circle of fallen men to retrieve more riches. In doing so I felt a blow slam into me from one of monsters and I fell once again into death, where my body would decay along with the others. 

Gross.


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## Tormenet (Feb 8, 2005)

*Session 1, Part 2: Ajax of Haigonopolis*

I followed that gnome through the wall of mist. Refreshingly, the sun was yellow again once we got to the other side. I however, was still dead. The Median came just behind me.  The woman did not follow. 

It was obvious that the other two were dead also, since none of us were breathing. After the violence of the last few minutes, we should all have been near dropping. 

The gnome started chirping in what I can only assume was gnomish, but I didn’t understand a word he said. He searched through the stuff he’d picked up from the corpses on the other side of the wall and drank a potion. 

“Jamili Legens, at your service,” he said in flawless Median. 

“I’m Ajax.” 

“Zaveon,” said the Median man. 

The three of us swapped items we had found, based on our skills and unspoken agreement to cooperate for survival’s sake. I was still a bit leery of this Jamili. He had looked just like Tariq Dost, one of my old companions before he crumbled and turned into this guy. But he was honest enough in the trading. 

Zaveon was a wearer of white, one of those sworn to protect holy Avasara’s places of worship, and had been beaten up pretty badly during the battle. I suggested that he use the power granted by Avasara to heal himself. He clasped his hands upon his wounds and the faint glow that accompanies the positive energy came from his hands. The wounds grew larger. He cried out in pain. “What is happening?” 

He then realized his training. We were dead, and such energy which heals the living wounds the dead. 

“What happened to that woman?” I asked them. 

Zaveon thought she would be coming out just behind him. We had had a clear line of escape for the mist and took it. So we waited. None of us knew her, we determined, but if Avasara willed that the four of us appear together, then there must be a reason for it. We kept waiting. 

Jamili didn’t know who Avasara is. Zaveon explained the Eternal Faith to the gnome as best he could, better than I could have, but not as well as a true priest. 

We each related our tales, trying to orient ourselves and make sense of our situation.  Each of us told of our death. Jamili talked about a race of creatures called the sovereigns with the bottom half of a snake, top of a six-armed man and head of an insect. 

“Oh, you mean the Eldritch,” I told him. 

Neither of them were familiar with the term. Rookies. 

“The Eldritch were an evil race which dominated the world millennia ago,” I began. They were overthrown by an army of creatures which call themselves the Ghinn.” 

“Yes, the tattooed ones,” Jamili said. “They are truly great.” 

“No,” Zaveon said firmly. “They worship Sin and all that is evil.” 

“He’s right on this one,” I told them. “When the Eldritch were beaten, they left this world and constructed a barrier around it, one which could not be pierced by Avasara or by Sin. It was this barrier that the Mother of the Eternal Faith, Arrousha, was able to pierce. The Ghinn, as part of the bargain they had made with Sin for the power to defeat the Eldritch, committed mass suicide after they won. Except for the warriors, which were encased in a stone slumber.” 

“Ah, interesting. If it’s true,” Zaveon said. 

I forgot that what my companions, former companions apparently since I was the only “survivor” of the green wave, and I were able to discover is not common knowledge. There are only a handful of people in the world who have even heard the word “Eldritch,” much less are those who are able to recite the ancient history of them. Not including the Ghinn, who know them intimately of course. 

“Arrousha pierced the barrier and ended the age of erroneous idolatry,” I said. She allowed Avasara to enter the world again, but others—Sin— were also be permitted entry once more. 

“A group called the Athanatos, they are Ionians, like me, except they believe Ionians to be the master race. They discovered, somehow some of the more minor secrets of the Eldritch and practiced Eldritch magic about 20 years ago. Well, 20 years before I died, anyway. That wakened the slumbering Ghinn who set about building cities, training and creating a new generation of Ghinn, so to speak. 

“The Athanatos then actually found a live Eldritch, in a severely weakened state, under the ruined city of Saeedah-Bel,” I said. 

It’s a shame about what happened there. 

“They brought that Eldritch back to their base and the leaders of the group were using it somehow in a bid for immortality. I died trying to stop them.” 

I left it at that. I didn’t tell them that it was partly my fault, well my group’s fault, that the Athanatos had done whatever they did to set off that green wave. I didn’t tell them my suspicion that the place we just left was the aftermath of that green wave. 

Avasara wants me back for something and he thinks I need to be with these two, so be it. So, Jamili lived under the Eldritch while he was alive, that’s bound to come in useful. 

Zaveon had his throat slit by a Jola nomad. I won’t tell him that I knew a Jola named Throat-Slitter, and that the old shaman had saved my life once in the desert. 

After a few minutes of talking and trading, we started to think the woman wasn’t coming out. 

“I’m not going back in that place for someone I never met,” I told them. I think they were relieved to hear someone else say it. We stood around staring at each other trying to decide what to do. Our choices seemed limited, back toward the misty barrier or set off into the brown, rocky desert terrain.   

Jamili saw it first, some smoke in the distance, probably a settlement. “Maybe we should go there,” he suggested.

None of us knew where there, or here was, but we didn’t have any better ideas so we began to walk north toward the smoke. 

It turns out that being dead makes traveling very easy. We didn’t have to eat or drink, and we didn’t get tired or really annoyed by the rocks in our sandals.


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## Tormenet (Feb 8, 2005)

*Session 1, Part 3: Ajax of Haigonopolis*

We got to the town at about dusk and I suggested that we wait for morning. It was odd enough that three dead people would be walking into town; we should at least do it in the daytime. 

I sat down out of habit, but I didn’t even have to do that. Zaveon stood the whole time, at first I thought it was just because he seemed very tough and disciplined, but it was actually just because he’s dead and his muscles and joints don’t get stiff. 

At dawn we entered the town. The people were kind and gave us clean clothing. The food they prepared must have represented a substantial part of their wealth. We were brought before the head of the town, Alkimus the Ishfar, an ethnic Median. Nice enough guy in a provincial sort of way. 

They even brought out the town priest to tend to our wounds. This, I realized was about to get sticky. The priest went straight for Zaveon, obviously the most badly wounded, but he declined help. 

He came to me next and I tried to turn him down too, but I felt his hands on me and the next thing I was on my knees screaming. 

“Take them to Him,” Alkimus said. We were then escorted by a group of the town’s warriors to a central square. 

At the square, one man towered above them all. He was Ionian and powerfully built. His armor was intricately engraved with scenes depicting Draco, the all-conquering leopard of Iona. His spear looked sharp. He seemed to be guarding the entrance to a cave, more a mound that protruded from the ground
. 
Another man was staked out in the sun, being tortured as the desert sun cooked him in his iron armor. A woman was curled up on the ground nearby. 

“We found some more, Talos,” one of our escorts told the man. 

“Leave us,” Talos replied. 

Talos was the name of one of the five Athanatos leaders, who I believe are responsible for the green wave that killed me. But it couldn’t be him here. Nothing could have survived that blast. Besides, if the blast was intentional then he would be immortal, which had been their goal. 

Why would an immortal stand around in some tiny town in the middle of nowhere? 

Jamili stepped forward and started talking to him. “Abominations” is what Talos called us. “The Desert of Abominations” was the place where we had just come to life. I barely listened as Jamili tried to reason with him and explain why he should not kill us as he did all the other abominations he’s encountered. 

This was the same Talos who was in the Athanatos. 

He talked about someone called the Scourge of Avasara, which I knew to be the title of one of the other five Athanatos leaders. He was one of the five. One of the group which had caused the green wave, which everyone seemed to call The Catastrophe. His group had sown discord in the whole region and thousands had died as a result of their efforts. It was through their actions that the Ghinn had re-entered the world, so he is responsible for the war the Ghinn started. 

He killed me. I wanted to kill him now. 

“Ajax.” 

Hearing my name made me pay attention again. 

“Ajax, tell him how you died,” Jamili said. 

Well, he asked. 

“I was one of the group that killed the guards you had posted around the Eldritch gate and the oracle,” I told Talos, looking directly at him. “I was one of the group that burned your bloodwort. I was killed in the green wave that you set off.” 

“If that were true, I should kill you just for that.” 

I couldn’t believe I was standing here talking to this man. “You could try,” I said. 

“Reach for your weapon.” 

My hand dropped to the hilt of my sword. I’m quicker than most people, so my plan was to stab him before he knew what hit him. I mentally recorded each place where his armor seemed weak. 

As I tilted my chin up to look at him, his spear pierced my throat.


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## Tormenet (Feb 9, 2005)

*Session 1, Part 4: Larassamnes Terrera*

I am among the close circle of Equila of Jehna and Cato, Saint of the High Places. How then did I end up here in this village called Jahennum, a word in the older tongue referring to a place of fire? 

There were some things I needed to check out to the north.  Equila, may Avasara smile on her beautiful head, asked me to take care of it.  I think she saw that Phrada is no longer a place of comfort for me.  It has been fifteen years, but I still see the Ghinn siege in every cracked wall. The streets, now open and fresh, still resonate butchery, confusion, stifling smoke and screaming to me. 

When I met Talos, I quickly realized he has no respect left for the institution of marriage. 

So it is that I end up here, naked under the sun helpless to stop his entertainments.

Talos had yet another of the village’s youths encased in iron armor under the hot sun.  The young man had stopped trying to escape the metal that was cooking his flesh.  Talos’ face had taken on the look of an aristocrat enjoying a fine meal.

Three abominations meandered into town: a gnome, an Ionian human and a man of Median ancestry. Runners came and told us immediately while Alkimus went through his welcoming routine. The man and his villagers have their secrets, but not from Talos.

Talos spared the abominations, an usual act, as they had their own sentience and their spirits had a mark of Avasara despite their bodily condition. If Talos was to spare them, then so would I, as in the least such a miracle must be investigated. 

They did not spare themselves though.  One, an Ionian youth in his late teens, attempted to gut the veteran. Talos speared him through the throat, a blow that would have killed any but those already dead. The young man, Ajax by name, flopped to the ground and gurgled for a few moments.

The gnome, who behaved not at all like any of that race of master diplomats I have met in my time, appealed to Talos on behalf of his…comrade? Their relationship seemed undefined as yet, like they had just met.  Hard thing to do here in the middle of nowhere.

The veteran abomination killer ordered me use Avasara’s power to injure the youth, another murder.  However, the power had the opposite effect—the flesh at the youth’s neck sealed itself.

Abomination.

Amused at his own superiority, and with no one left willing to argue with him, Talos spoke his will.

I was to join the abominations.  We were to travel to Draconia, one of the cities founded by the Leopard, and convince the veteran’s wife to return to her husband’s side.  

I knew her name well, Charybdis.  The racist spoke of her frequently.  Perhaps he does have at least a little respect for his marriage, but probably more on the possessive side.

Before we left Talos had a spell put over all of us bind us to his will. Alkimus and his secrets. 

The three seemed lost, quickly admitting they had no idea where they were. 

Twenty-seven days north and east of Phrada, I told them.  That cleared Ajax’s face. Thirteen days east of the Citadel of the Rock, I told them. Zaveon looked that way, toward home his face said. Nothing I said helped the gnome.  He asked where “The City Established by The Will at the Place of the Third Gate” was. I had no answer.  I am well educated, Avasara be praised and his mercy visited upon Equila, and have never heard of such a place.

I suggested we travel north, three days to Ka-Pi-Sa, an outpost of the Song Empire.  Established around the foundation of a military camp, the city was growing and its administrators talked of attempting to re-open the trade routes cut by the Desert of Abominations.     

We decided to venture to Ka-Pi-Sa to research a means to cure their condition and make plans for Carybdis.


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## Tormenet (Feb 15, 2005)

*Session 1 conclusion, Part 5: Jamili Legens*

After a few thousand years of death, my return to the mortal world does not seem to have come without a sense of irony. For my entire life, until my (initial) death, I was a slave of the Sovereigns, or the “Eldritch” as my new companion Ajax refers to them. They were beings infinitely more powerful than anyone I’ve encountered so far in my brief return to this world, especially this Talos who made such short work of Ajax. 

The Sovereigns controlled us through a force called The Will. And on my first day in my second life (or unlife, as the case may be), I am put under another compulsion by a member of an organization seeking to tap the powers of the Sovereigns. 

This quest that Talos has had cast upon us pales in strength compared to The Will. Whereas The Will was a constant voice in my head that controlled most of my physical and mental actions, this current compulsion is more of a pull, as if the horizon was a magnet and I, an iron filing. 

While it was certainly discomforting to find out that my companions and I have returned to this world as “abominations,” I have become overjoyed to hear the whisper of the Echoes in my head more strongly than ever before. The Echoes (or the “Akashic memory” as it is called in this era) have been with me my entire life. However, it was only at the times when the strength of The Will weakened that I was able to hear them with any clarity. My ability to hear the Echoes has proved invaluable as I have been able to master quickly many of the languages and customs of my new environment. 

Our journey to the Songian outpost of Ka-Pi-Sa provided us with an opportunity to learn some more about each other. Lara, the servant of Avasara we met in Jahennum seemed leery of the three of us that had emerged from the Desert of Abominations, which seemed understandable. Certainly it could not be coincidence that the three of us (four, if you count the Songian woman who apparently died in the Desert) appeared at the same time in that corpse field. The fact that I momentarily held the form of a companion of Ajax’ who died along side him furthers that point. 

Our goal at Ka-Pi-Sa was to equip ourselves for the journey to Draconia to locate Talos’ wife, Carybdis, and bring her back to him. We had taken many valuable items from the corpses in the Desert and found in this town several merchants willing to trade them for other goods. Though, this was my first experience with a commerce system such as this, the ability to persuade these merchants to give us favorable prices came naturally to me. We commissioned the creation of some enchanted items which would take a number of days to create. Prudence dictated that we maintain a low profile in the town, to decrease the odds of someone noticing our pallor, or that we were not breathing. 

After two weeks, we made a final purchase of some horses and headed out for Draconia. The map we purchased showed us that we would have to take an elongated route around the northwestern rim of the Desert of Abominations. After several days of travel, we came across the Somal River as the sun was setting. 

When night fell, we could see shadowy forms moving toward us from the other side of the river. The forms stayed on the far side of the river, but the hatred they directed toward us was palpable. 

As dawn broke, the forms dissipated. We crossed the river on horseback, but after a couple of hours of riding, the beasts stopped in their tracks and refused to proceed. We retreated across the river, and decided that it would perhaps be best to restrict our movement to the daylight hours. Nightfall brought the return of the shadows, and as with the night before, they remained on their side of the river. 

The next morning we set out again, this time on foot. The horses would have to fend for themselves. After a full day’s walk, as the sun began to set, we approached a small fortification. As we entered the keep we could see the shadowy forms coming from every direction. 

We found a ladder to the battlement at the top of the keep. The shadows levitated and attacked us. We quickly discovered that mundane weapons could not harm them, only enchanted ones. We were hopelessly outnumbered and eventually were forced to retreat to the ground at the center of the keep. 

At the moment when our fate seemed sealed, Ajax had a revelation. “Water!” he screamed. “Water keeps them at bay. They could not cross the river.” Lara understood and quickly called out to Avasara. She created a circle of water around the four of us on the hard floor of the keep. 

The improbable barrier worked. The shadows circled us, an incorporeal mass of hate. But they could not pass over the water. We remained in the circle the entire night. Lara tried her best to curl up and get some rest. The other two abominations and I had no need for rest, so stood throughout the night – a little bored, a little frightened, more than a little confused about the circumstances we’ve found ourselves in. 

The rising sun crept over the horizon, and as it had the two previous nights, dissipated the shadows like a morning fog. It was as we prepared to step out of our aqueous haven, that we noticed a discrepancy between this morning and the previous two. On the western battlement, a solitary shadow remained, watching us.


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