# The Rise of Felskein [Completed]



## Iron Sky

Now in eBook format, available through Smashwords here.

+++

Session 1, Part 1

Ming stumbled heavily into the side a small log building as she bent to pick up her dropped wineskin. She cursed her rusting, ill-fitting breastplate and her long, dirty silver hair that was always getting into her face and tangling up with the amulet that rested on her chest. A spill of Northmand Dark drenched her dusty legs and the red dirt and she swore again. She threw the now-empty wineskin aside in disgust, glaring through this dung-hill of a town at the sun setting over the lake.

A local walked quickly by as Ming stumbled away from the side of the building, shifting the greatsword on her back and glaring at him. "S'matter? Never seen a woman before?" she called after him, pushing her chest out and cursing again as the breastplate cut into her. 

"Gotta be a drink here somewhere," she mumbled, swaggering out into what passed for the main street.

At the end of the "street", not far from the lake shore, sat the largest building in town, long and low with a narrow window that ran the length of the longest side to give view of the lake and mountains beyond.  No glass in a place like this, just a hole with a couple planks hinged above it so they could be propped open in the evening. It seemed to be where most of the menfolk of the village were headed. 

_A drink and a man, sounds good to me_, she thought with a snarling grin that sent a passing local scurrying out of her way. _In no particular order_.

***

Suniel Au wiggled his slender elvish fingers and the walnuts shot back down into the cup, eliciting a burst delighted laughter from the crowd of children packed about his table. One of the more adventurous boys leaned closer to the cup and Suniel murmured again, setting the cup a-trembling.

"Don't, you're scaring his nuts," a little girl with a ragged dolly said, tugging on the boy's sleeve. A couple fisherman nearby guffawed and one spat a mist of ale into the air before breaking into raucous laughter.

"It's just a couple walnuts, don't be sissy," the boy said, trying to shake her off without looking away from the cup.

Suniel hid his smile behind another gesture and the walnuts "peeked" out over the rim of the cup again. "Rawr!" the boy shouted, lunging forwards. 

Suniel hooked his middle finger, sending the walnuts "leaping" out of the cup, a syllable and a shift of his arm sending them flitting amongst the children, who immediately dissolved into a mob - half of them shrieking and trying to get away, the rest diving in to grab for the walnuts that now weaved between their legs, the adults nearby lifting their mugs high and grinning or grumbling as tables and stools were jostled and bumped.

With a final gesture, Suniel released the cantrip, the walnuts skittering off under a table and the kids diving for them, giving Suniel the opportunity to slip away through the throng of the inn. He managed to meet Oakstout's eye before he reached the door, the gray-bearded dwarven tavernkeeper nodding to him and pointing his thumb at the loft. Suniel nodded and gave a small bow before passing through the threshold.

***

Harold Trisden dismounted to the clink of spurs and medals, walking the mare he'd been provided with towards the inn. It was good to get away, to feel stirrups on his feet after months shipboard and a week standing guard at one diplomatic function after another. He hated just blending in, being background. Judging by the size of this town, they probably barely had a militia and might never have seen a professional soldier, much less one of the Crystal Tower's elite Honor Guards.

He pulled his bow from his saddle and strung it, grabbing the his quiver as well before handing the reins over to a stable boy. His eyes scanned the area, seeking a suitable archery butt as he wandered from the stable towards the inn entrance. _Maybe they even have a local hotshot who thinks he's good with a bow_, he thought, a half-smile forming. _Won't even know what's coming_.

His reverie was broken rudely as he rounded the corner and slammed into the largest woman he'd ever seen, a rough figure of rusty armor and dusty silver hair. A politeness formed on his lips but became a started grunt as he felt her hand at his crotch. 

"Step back woman!" he said, leaping away and straightening his uniform.

"Mmm, I like a man in uniform," she said, cocking her head at him, her breath telling of strong wine and her lurid look telling of something else.

"Excuse me," a soft voice said from the entrance they were blocking, a nondescript elf in a brown robe stepping out from the dusk-shadow of the doorway.

Harold nodded and stepped out of the way - and further from the rough warrior woman who still stood looking him over. A stern reprisal formed on his lips as he glared back at her, but whatever he was about to say was drowned out by an alarm bell from the village watchtower.

***

Sergeant Snareg motioned for the rest of the gang to stay low as they poled the raft closer towards the human village. "Steady boys," he said in raspy goblin. "Remember, smoking rubble's more important than bloody corpses. Take what you can get and run, we do damage and get out before a patrol shows up." 

He clutched the iron ring on the thong about his neck for luck and glanced at the sliver of setting sun dipping below the lake. They'd set out too late and the raft was too big and slow, the mast and sail too small. He'd hoped to get here just as the sun was setting while the humans were at meal and drink, but by now they were probably done. If they were like hobgoblins, now they'd be restless and rowdy, maybe looking for a fight.

Thoslar had only given him seven grunters to burn a whole village and he'd be damned if he was going to screw it up, especially this soon after getting his iron. Maybe he should have waited until the middle of the night like Suvok did on his raid...

He snorted out a breath and hunched lower, shaking his worries away with a jerk of his head. _They barely have a militia, won't be expecting a thing_, he thought. Just get in, kill a few men with pitchforks and fishing nets, throw a couple torches around, maybe swipe some swag and a prisoner or two and be back at the raft camp in a couple days. He imagined the look on Suvok's face when he came back with a pretty human girl from this raid, not a handful of half-starved goblins like Suvok had gotten on his.

The clang of an alarm bell snapped him out of his reverie and he swore, seeing they were still thirty feet of hard wading from shore. "Pole hard boys!" he shouted, standing and pointing his sword. "No more surprise for us, pole!"

They all sprang to their feet, most straining at their poles, but Vundat dropped his and jumped off the raft as he saw humans fleeing in terror from their buildings.

"Order damnit, Vundat, get back on the raft and pole!" Suvok shouted, but by then the rest were all dropping their poles and grabbing swords, not even picking up their shields in their haste to get in on it.

Then Brunt slammed into him in a spray of blood, stumbling backwards with a feathered shaft sprouting from his chest. Snareg shoved him off and glared at the shore, seeing a figure in blue with a glint of something on his chest standing on the low roof of a long, low building, drawing another arrow. Snareg dropped his sword and grabbed his own bow, looking about in surprise as the rest on the raft suddenly went limp and crashed to the crude planking.

_Magic!_ he thought, firing off an arrow towards the town, barely aiming before moving over to Scovos. He kicked the fallen hobgoblin hard enough to roll him off into the lake and his relief was visceral when Scovos came up snorting and splashing. "Just a minor spell, wake the others!" he shouted, drawing another arrow.

Vundat and a couple others were almost to the shore, pushing hard towards the low building and the lone figure in blue atop it who sent another arrow whistling past Snareg's ear. He fired back and cursed as his arrow flew wide. He glanced back to see Scovos rolling on the deck, clutching at the arrow piercing his neck.

Dropping low, Vundat shook the other two awake, drawing another arrow and glancing towards shore to see Vundat disappear into the building only to come flying back out to land in a bloody heap a second later. The other two on shore rushed towards the doorway and the figure with silver hair and a huge sword that suddenly filled it as the two with Snareg reached for their bows.

One took an arrow in  his spine as he bent over, arching back hard as he stumbled into the water. Snareg and the other sent a reply flying towards the figure on the roof, but in the growing dark he couldn't tell if they hit.

Then there was a flash from out of the corner of Snareg's eye and he jerked his bow in that direction, firing off an arrow blindly as his companion slid down the mast, a clean hole bored into the center of his forehead. He felt panic rising as he reached for another arrow, looking down the shaft as he drew it back to see the silver-haired human slam its shoulder into Stub-toe and kick him in the chest before turning and running Torol through.

Snareg loosed an arrow and reached for another, cursing his shaking arm, glancing across the water in time to see the pronged hilt of the greatsword driven into Stub-toe's eye. 

Then a razor-sharp sledge-hammer hit Snareg in the chest and he stumbled backwards, running his stubby fingers along the hard wooden shaft that protruded from his sternum in utter disbelief, dying to the sounds of Stub-toe screaming on the shore.


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## Iron Sky

Session 1, Part 2

Harold lowered his bow as the silver-haired monster of a woman's sword cut off the hobgoblin's screams.  After a moment of that strange after-battle stillness, he placed the arrow he had drawn to his quiver and slung his bow across his back.

He bent down, wincing, and grabbed the arrow that pierced his thigh.  Gritting his teeth, he jerked it out with a gasp and downed one of the last of his potions, wondering idly if he could find more in this backwater as checked the wound's progress.  Once he was sure it was completely healed, he carefully made his way down one of the support beams under the thatch and lowered himself to the ground.

He walked about slowly, working the stiffness out of his leg.  When he was satisfied, he walked around to the front of the inn.  The woman was gone when he got there, the trio of hobgoblins she had slain sprawled in the dirt where they had died.  The elf knelt over one of them, murmuring something.  As Harold glanced out towards the raft, he thought he caught a glint of arcane markings covering the elf's skin, but when he glanced back, there was nothing.

Mages made him uneasy, no matter which side they seemed to be on.

***

Suniel stood with a sigh.  _Everywhere I go, such pointless waste of life_, he thought._ No matter how far I go, I cannot outrun it._

His eyes met those of the Crystal Towers archer and he started to nod, but the soldier looked quickly away and strode off towards the raft.  Suniel watched him go impassively and turned towards the clank of armor and swing of lanterns that came from the direction of the town barracks.  With one hand raised, he walked in their direction.

"Peace, Northmand soldiers," he said, "there are no more foes here."

A blond-haired young man in chain and the gray-and-white of Northmand jogged up, backed by a dozen or so men with spears.  The young man raised his hand to Suniel and nodded.

"You three, police these bodies," he said, turning to the men with him.  "The rest of you, go help that man pull in the raft."

As they set about his orders, he turned back to Suniel.  "My name is Lieutenant Laris," he said, extending his hand.  "Don't see many elves in these parts."

Suniel took his hand and shook it.  "Suniel Au."  He turned to watch the Lieutenant's men strip and pile the bodies.  "You have problems with the hobgoblins often?"

Laris shook his head.  "There's a history of it, but it's been pretty calm the last couple years.  The mining operations out in the Ragged Hills have reported sightings lately, but this is the first attack I've heard of in some time."

Suniel pulled his robe tighter about him as a cool breeze blew in off the lake.  

"Might we step inside?" he said, gesturing to the inn.

"Of course," Laris said, hesitating only for a moment as he watched his men finish pulling the raft a shore.  "Things seem in hand here."

***

Ming let out a contented sigh, dropped the tankard, and was reaching for a second before the first had even hit the floor.  She hooked a chair with her feet and slid it in front of her, leaning back into the stout oak table and propping her feet up before the fire.

Low voices drew her attention to the doorway and she glanced over to see a handsome young soldier and the plain-looking elf come in.  Neither seemed to be any sort of threat.  They stared over at her for a moment, then, after a brief discussion and another moment's hesitation made their way through the upturned mess of the common room to her.

"Have a seat handsome," she said. "Plenty of free drinks and food about. Their previous owners seem to have lost their appetites."

The young man flushed.  _How cute_, she thought, _I could show_ him _things..._

The elf sat near the fire and extended his hands towards it as the young man stood, blinking and staring at Ming.  She un-propped her legs and patted her lap invitingly.  He flushed again and quickly moved to sit near the elf, at the opposite end of the long bench from her.  She laughed and took a deep drought of ale.

"So, I... uh... understand you are one of the ones responsible for defending Laketide?" the young man said, speaking to the elf with only the quickest of glances at Ming.

She shifted closer to him on the bench and shrugged.  "That what this place is called?"

"I was only directly responsible for one," the elf said. "The Crystal Towers soldier dispatched four and this woman three, that I saw anyway."

"Ah.  That's, um, impressive," he said, glancing over at her again.

"Ming," she said, glancing down and noticing the blood spattered on the dust and rust of her armor for the first time.

"Ah, Lieutenant Laris," he said, extending his hand.

She took in and squeezed just enough to make him wince.  "Mmm, my pleasure."

His hand jerked away like a fox from a trap when she released it.  

"So you and Suniel know each other then?" he said, turning back to the elf and shifting to the farthest end of the bench.

"Companions of the moment," Suniel said, turning and nodding to her.  "Nice to meet you Ming."

She grunted back and glanced back towards the door and the _squish_ of water-filled boots.  The archer strode over, trailing water and casting only a brief, flat glance in her direction.  Her original estimate of him when she'd run into him earlier wasn't off the mark.  That man was no stranger to killing.

***

Harold's mood brightened considerably when he glanced away from the unpleasant woman and he saw another man in uniform.  He looked the man over, scanning for signs of rank.  "Lieutenant," he said, bringing his fist to his chest in a Northmand-style military salute.

The young officer saluted back and smiled.  "Thank you... sir?"

"Guardsman.  Honor Guard Trisden to be specific, you can call me Harold," he said.

"Ah, well Honor Guard, er, Harold, join Ming and Suniel and me by the fire."  The young man motioned to where he had been sitting near the woman and hastily found himself a chair, eliciting a guffaw from the woman for some reason.  Harold took the seat and leaned towards the fire.

"Well, uh, Northmand thanks you for your services.  I must admit my men and I would have been hard pressed to deal with a hobgoblin raiding party of that size," Laris said.

"They were undisciplined," Harold said, waving his hand, "I saw eight shields on that raft and not one used."

"Well, regardless, we thank you and offer whatever spoils you wish to take from them.  I also believe the bounty from the last conflict was never revoked - one gold sovereign per pair of ears I believe it was."

"I took what I wanted already," Harold said, touching the iron ring on its leather thong that now hung from his belt.  "I found it on their leader.  Do you know what it means?"

Laris shook his head.  

"I've never seen anything like it," he said, standing.  "Anyway, I should see to my men.  Come by the barracks tomorrow and I can get you your reward."

***

Ming watched him leave and was suddenly drowsy from the ale, heat, travel, and battle.  With a yawn she stood and walked out, stretching as she stared at the moon over the lake.

For a moment she saw a glint on the water, rubbed her eyes, and looked again.  A second later it was gone and she shook her head.  _

I must be tired_, she thought. _Or drunk. A silver turtle the size of a ship?_

***

Suniel stood and nodded to Harold.  "I'm sure Oakstout wouldn't mind if you took a room.  You can reach them by the ladder in the stables. They're small, but warm and comfortable."

Harold nodded, staring into the fire and rubbing one of his medals, probably unconsciously.  Suniel walked out, checked on his carriage, stopped in the stables to say good night to his horses, and climbed up to his room.


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## Iron Sky

Session 1 Crunch.

I'm thinking after each narrative of the action, I'll write in what I can remember of the mechanics of what happened.  Mostly DMing-related stuff, just because I found those bits - and the reader comments - in Shamus Young's campaign so interesting.  If you don't care about this part, feel free to skip it.  Some of these earlier ones might be a bit fuzzier since they were almost a year ago, but I'll see what I can remember.

Since this was the first session, I'll talk a bit about my DMing style, the world, and character creation.  

From the inadvertant tastes of RPG theory/philosophy I've gotten reading the 4E section, I'd be mostly what you'd call a simulationist DM.  I create the world, figure out what's happening where, and then the PCs are set loose into it to do what they will.

The world as the PCs know it is a continent named Felskein settled above the Endless Sands.  On all sides, the continent ends in thousands-of-feet tall cliffs that drop down into the Sands.  As far as anyone knows, nothing can survive out in the sands and no one has ever heard of there being anything else out there - just sand stretching into infinity.

They also knew they were starting in Northmand, a city-state settled on the edge of Mirror Lake.  Nearby are the Ragged Hills where the Hobgoblin Iron Tribes live and have had a long history of conflict with Northmand.  About a century ago, the Iron Tribes laid a years-long siege to the fortress-city of Northmand, causing the military council to seize the government and declare martial law.  When the war ended, the military council retained power and it became the governing system for Northmand.

The world - like most of my fantasy worlds - was a Points of Light setting before the term had entered the DnD vocabulary.

For character creation, I let the characters select the level they wished to start, between 1 and 5.  The lower the level, the better dice-rolling method they got to use: from 5d6, drop two, roll two columns and pick the best at first level to 3d6, one column, at level 5.  If they rolled poorly enough, they could use point buy, with points varying depending on level.  Also, if their characters died, they used this same method for the rest of the game for making new characters.

I also suggested they create up to 5 "quirks" and 5 secrets.  I defined quirks as anything distinguishing about a character that could probably be learned within a few minutes to a day or two of knowing them.  Secrets didn't have to be massive, dire secrets, just anything that someone wouldn't learn until they knew the character fairly well, dug deep into their life, and that might not even be discovered even then.  I awarded the PCs 1% of a level per quirk or secret they created as additional incentive.

I credit this creation method, the PHBIIs affiliations, and the tick system(see down below) with making this the most successful and long-running game I've had in almost a decade.

Harold Trisden's player decided to risk going with level 5 and rolled exceptionally well, better even than some of the others who all chose level 1-3.  He whipped up a duty-obsessed, sometimes arrogant Duskblade/Ranger/Fighter archer from a distant democracy named the Crystal Towers.  He was a member of the honor guard escorting the Crystal Towers diplomat to Northmand, seeking allies in their war with the Ashen Tower.

Suniel Au's player went with level 3, creating a soft-spoken, nondescript elven wizard with a mysterious past(I'll save his secrets for the narrative) who now works as a travelling magic-item creator/seller/supplier.  He created his own affiliation known as the Black Carriage, with the intent of eventually making it a continent-wide affiliation of travelling wizards.

Ming's player went with a level 1 fighter, a rough-and-tumble, hulking woman with a family heirloom amulet, strange silver hair, and a troubled past.

A couple other players made characters, but weren't able to make the first session.

One of those created Ilsa Goldhammer, a 2nd level female dwarven dragonshaman/fighter, a servant of Wyrmsrule, a tiny city-state to the north of the Ragged Hills that serve an Ancient Gold Wyrm.  They were also sent on a diplomatic mission to Northmand, seeking aid against Iron Tribe incursions and against the orcs of the Mist Tops on the other side of Mirror Lake from Northmand.

Ilsa's player's brother - who only played one session - created Kendrin Moonfire, a 3rd-level half-elf cleric and also a servant of Wyrmsrule.

The last mechanic I use is called ticks.  I used for a bit years ago when I first heard about it from somewhere on the Internet, but then forgot about it until starting up this campaign.  Ticks are rewards for showing up, good roleplaying, keeping the game running, etc.  

General tick rules:
I give out 5 for someone showing up, a bonus 1 for being on time, and 5 for staying for the full session.
I give out one or two for staying in character(staying with alignment, affiliation goals/traits, exhibiting quirks, general good roleplaying) whenever it seems appropriate.
Occassionally, I also give them a few if there are long stretches without combat(selling/buying gear, calculating and splitting treasure, etc) that are requirements of 3.X but don't really progress the plot.

Ticks are spent any time between sessions or 5 ticks can be spent to "collect" and spend them during a session.  Those 5 ticks also let them get any xp they have earned that session. (I've never had a player choose to do this).  Once 100 ticks are accrued, they must all be spent immediately to prevent hoarding.

Ticks can be spent on:
1 tick - 1% of a level.
1 tick - 1 reroll of any d20, kept even if worse, or 1 per reroll of a stabalization dice.
10 ticks - 1 skillpoint (never had a player do this, even after I dropped it to 5 ticks per skillpoint)
50 ticks - 1 feat
50 ticks - 1 attribute point

The majority have been spent on xp(especially the craft-heavy wizard), with occasional drops here and there on feats and attributes.  Ticks weren't spent very often on re-rolls early on(I don't think I added that option until a few sessions in anyway), but now in the 10-15 level range and tons of enemies with save-or-horrible effects, 5-10 on average have been spent amidst the group per session on re-rolls, with the number spend per session growing).

For the actual 1st session, we spent alot of it finishing up characters, me telling them a bit about what they knew about Northmand and the area, and so we got started kinda late.  They roleplayed a bit and then were attacked by the hobgoblins.  I rolled a d8 to figure out how many rounds it would be until the guards showed up to help... and got an 8.

It didn't end up mattering since they wiped them out in about 4-5 rounds.  From the player crunch perspective, all I remember is Suniel spent most of the fight invisible, just watching, Harold used a bunch of Duskblade deflections to make most of the incomming arrows miss, and Ming's player was rolling awesome that night.

Edit: Suniel's player recently reminded me that his staple spell combo was invisiblilty/summon swarm.  I wondered what he cast besides Kelgor's Firebolt and magic missile.  Anyway, he reminded me of that too late for it to be in the narrative much, but that's what he did.


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## Iron Sky

Session 2, Part 1

Ming awoke with a killer hangover and the incomparable discomfort of falling asleep in someone else's armor.  She stood up stiffly, cracking her neck and back before searching the straw for her sword.  There was a moment of panic before she remembered leaning it against a wall somewhere.

Sure enough, it was sitting right next to the door, still coated with blood and grime from the day before.  _I should clean it_, she thought, then caught a whiff of herself.  _Whew, and me._

Sword slung over her back, she made her way down to the shore.

***

Suniel climbed out of his carriage and squinted at the bright July sunlight.  One hand shielding his eyes, he made his way to the inn.

He found Harold already inside, chatting with Lieutenant Laris.

"...apparently attacked the mine about the same time they hit us here," Laris said, nodding to Suniel as he entered.

Suniel nodded back and sat down at the table with the two soldiers, motioning to Oakstout and the stew pot bubbling in the fireplace as he did.  Oakstout nodded back and disappeared into the back room.

"How many losses?" Harold said.  "That sounds like a pretty major raid."

Laris nodded, his expression grim.  "The count is unsure.  The whole mining establishment out in the Hills is in an uproar.  I just wish we had more men out here, especially scouts.  The Iron Tribes have been so quiet for so long, we'd almost dismissed them as a threat."

Harold's eyes met Suniel's and Suniel saw some plan churning behind his eyes.  When Harold suddenly smiled widely at him, he had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

"Wizard, you seem to be a traveling man... or elf, rather.  What would you say to doing some good for the Northmand cause?"

Suniel replied instead to Laris, his voice soft.  "The attack was unprovoked?"

Laris nodded.  "Our guards were there as a token force against thieves and brigands.  Some of the miners even moved their families out there into the shanty-towns." 

Laris stared down at the barely-touched oatmeal in his bowl.  "The shanty-town at the mine they attacked caught fire, I've heard it was... well... the smell... all the people were asleep when the flames swept through.  And everything was so close together, there wouldn't have been anywhere to go.  Like a trap."

Suniel got the impression the young officer was trying not to cry so he politely stood, intercepted Oakstout on the way to the fireplace, and served himself some oatmeal from the pot the dwarven innkeeper was carrying to rewarm by the fire.

When he returned, Laris was eating, not crying, but Harold still had a calculating look.

"What's in it for you, archer?" a rough female voice said from the doorway.

Suniel glanced up from sprinkling cinnamon into his oatmeal as Ming walked in.  Out of armor, still damp from bathing, she looked almost womanly, her silver hair especially striking when back-lit by the bright morning sunlight.

Harold assumed an offended look.  "Why, our noble Northmand allies deserve our support."  

Harold watched Ming closely as she casually tossed her armor and sword onto a table.  

"Besides, they pay a gold per pair of ears.  Laris already gave me the bounties.  Here's your share from last night," Harold said, tossing a small pouch to Ming.  She caught it with a deftness that belied her size and emptied it into her hand.

With an exaggerated shrug, she dropped the money into her own coin-pouch as she walked towards the fireplace.  "Never liked hobgoblins much anyway."

Harold clapped his hands together and glanced back at Suniel.  "Elf?"

Suniel thought for a long moment, then nodded.

Harold stood and walked briskly towards the door.  "Excellent, let's leave immediately, no time to waste."

"Agreed, as long as right away starts in about an hour," Ming said, ladling out a heaping bowl of oatmeal.  "Time spent at breakfast is never wasted."

***

The guide stopped and Harold reined in his mare, squinting in the heat of the noon-day sun.  He wiped the sweat from his brow, his sleeve coming away the brown-red of the Ragged Hills.  Behind him, the black carriage rattled to a halt and Ming jumped down.

"This is as far as the road goes west," the guide said, pulling off his leather cap and wiping his own brow.  "From here you can go north or south along the road, or on west into the hills."

_I can see that_, Harold thought, staring at the *T* in the road that they had come to.  _And Laris said_ this _was his best scout?_

He glanced about at the dry, dusty hills, their crowns jagged outcroppings of rusty rock.  Like the majority of the ones they had passed during the morning, most of the hills here were littered with the remains of year-, decade-, maybe century-old mining encampments that sat bleaching and baking away in the sun.

"We'll keep going west," Harold said, dismounting.  "Take the carriage and my horse back to Laketide."

The guide stared down at him.  "But, the road goes north and south!"

"I can see that," Harold said. "The hobgoblins aren't likely to be staying at the mining camps and towns, are they?   I don't see any reason for us to go there either."

"Whatever," Ming said, rubbing the back of her neck as she strode past.  "As long as I don't have to bounce my bones apart on that carriage anymore."

Suniel walked up and handed the reins of his carriage horses to the guide.  "Take them back to the inn, leave the carriage where it was by the stables, and take care of the horses."  

The guide nodded and set about securing the reins to Harold's horse to the back of the carriage.

"Oh, and one more thing," Suniel said as the man returned.  "Make sure no one goes inside, or I'll hold you accountable.  You don't want to be accountable."

Something in Suniel's demeanor changed and Harold took an involuntary step back.  It was as if it there was a brief shadow over the sun and something even darker reflecting in Suniel's eyes.  Then it passed and Suniel turned and walked past, humming softly.

Harold met the suddenly pale guide's eyes and shrugged.  He watched the wizard from a few paces back as they trudged into the hills.  

_Just confirms it_, he thought.  _Never trust a wizard._


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## Iron Sky

Session 2, Part 2

Ilsa motioned for Kendrin to drop and Kendrin crawled up beside her.  

"What'd you see?" he whispered.

"Not sure, just movement, up there on that hill to the south"  Their eyes met and an unspoken word passed between them.  _Hobgoblins_.  

Ilsa let out a long breath and strapped her tower shield on.  "Ok, well, I sneak like fish walk, so we might as well just rush them.  You ready?"

Kendrin nodded, pulled his shield from his back and his mace from his belt-loop.

"All set?  Ok, let's go!"

***

"Movement, north," Harold hissed, nocking an arrow and dropping to one knee.  Ming stood from examining the trapdoor they'd discovered, her sword scraping from her back.  Suniel slid his hand into his sleeve, and the small component pouch he had sewn there.

Of all the things he expected to come over the hill, a dwarf and a half-elf were the least.  By the way they slid to a stop, he had the idea that they were as surprised at the meeting as he was.

Ming lowered her sword, but Harold kept an arrow trained on the dwarf.

"Who are you, what are you doing here?" he said.

The dwarf's eyes dropped to the trapdoor and back to Harold.  Her sword lowered.  

"If you're here to kill hobgoblins, then we're on the same side.  If you're just visiting friends, then we've got a problem," the dwarf said.

Ming shrugged and went back to uncovering the trapdoor.  Harold hesitated a moment longer before lowering his bow as well.  Suniel walked over to the newcomers and extended his hand.  "Suniel.  The big woman is Ming and the one with the bow is Harold."

The dwarven woman took his hand and gave it a firm shake.  "Ilsa Goldhammer, and this is my companion Kendrin Moonfire."

Suniel nodded to them both and turned as Ming heaved the heavy trapdoor open.  Immediately a voice called up from below in goblin.  "Who goes there?"

They all stepped back from the trapdoor and readied their weapons again.  

"Patrol returning," Harold said, in heavily accented goblin.  

Suniel suppressed a wince and glanced in his direction.  Harold grinned back and winked.  The others looked at them with questioning expressions.

There was a long pause below before the voice called back up. "Jump down then."

There was a quick exchange of glances and Harold mimed a jumping motion and gestured to the hole.  There was a long pause, then Ming mumbled something Suniel didn't quite catch and jumped down.  Suniel immediately moved to the edge of the hole and glanced in to see a narrow shaft dropping twenty feet to a thick pile of furs.  As he watched, Ming hit the furs, cursed loudly and vanished, the hidden trapdoor the furs were nailed to spinning to reveal hard wood.

Harold swore and jumped down, landing on the trapdoor but leaping off and out of sight before it had a chance to spin and dump him in the pit beneath it.  Suniel heard the thrum of a bowstring and a roar of pain from below.

Suniel saw the trapdoor start to lift and made a motion to stop the dwarf, but was too late: Ilsa leapt in with a dwarven war cry.

Ming glanced up in surprise as she strained to pull herself out of the trap, then the dwarf slammed into her and they both disappeared - dwarven tower shield and all.  The trapdoor spun again and when it stopped, Suniel heard the distinct sound of a latch clicking, leaving the fur side showing.

Kendrin jumped in without a moment's hesitation, bounced off the thick furs, and charged out of sight with a shout of, "Gilderalin!"

The sounds of combat below intensified.  Suniel sighed, took a deep breath, and jumped.

Though he half-expected to fall through to whatever lay beneath the trap, the heavy furs absorbed his fall and he sprang immediately to his feet.

Ahead was a narrow tunnel only a few feet across with Harold in heated combat with a hobgoblin in the middle of it.  Kendrin stood behind him, tense, mace hefted and ready to swing if the opportunity presented itself in the cramped space and Suniel saw a hobgoblin behind the one Harold was fighting standing in a similar stance.

Harold seemed to be holding his own, so Suniel bent and examined the trapdoor, finding the latch quickly and releasing it. 

_Have to give the hobgoblins some credit_, he thought. _P__retty clever_.

A moment later, the trapdoor swung open, a meaty hand clutching at the edge.  Suniel reached down and helped haul Ming and Ilsa out then turned to see Harold drive his sword up into the hobgoblin's gut.  The last hobgoblin turned and fled down the dark tunnel.

"We have to catch it," Harold said, conjuring up glowing orbs of light with a gesture and running after it. Kendrin quickly followed.  Suniel stepped aside to let Ilsa and a limping, bloodied Ming past.

Catching his look of surprise, Ming growled, "spikes in the pit" as she passed.

Suniel nodded sympathetically and followed.

***

Vuroosk grabbed his bow, slammed the door open, and rushed out of his quarters.  One of the new ones Neergrog had sent him was running from the south sentry tunnel, splattered with blood and shouting something about an attack.

"To arms, we're under attack," Vuroosk bellowed, grabbing the sentry as he tried to run past and throwing him back the direction he was running from.  About him, his troops rousted from their bunks and he heard shouts from the north tunnel.  He readied his bow and aimed for the south tunnel.

He didn't have to wait long.

A huge shield slid out of the tunnel and he embedded an arrow deep into the wood as chaos broke out around him.  From behind the shield arrows flew and downed two of his hobgoblins and a moment later a giant human female with a sword leapt out and cleaved Hunner almost in half.  With a roar, a dozen hobgoblins converged on them from all directions and battle was joined.

Vuroosk shifted to catch a bead on the enemy archer through the fray, but the human was faster.  An arrow slammed into Vuroosk's leg and another embedded in his shoulder, sending his own arrow flying wide.  He gritted his teeth in pain and fired again, his arrows disappearing into the clash.

He ducked as another two arrows slammed into the door behind him and he fired back, his arm and leg pounding with pain from the arrows.

As he reached for another arrow, a third took him in the side.  Another flew past as he staggered back into his room, fumbling for a potion from his belt-pouch.

He jerked the arrow from his side and drank a potion as the sounds of battle raged outside.  He was reaching for another when the enemy archer suddenly appeared in the doorway.  Vuroosk lurched for his bow as another arrow slammed into him.  He staggered back and fired a final arrow in return before collapsing.

***

Hoortchuc motioned for the beast handler to set them loose and peeked into the barracks.  The battle was pitched and seemed to be going badly.  He gathered his courage and charged into the room, shouting a dark blessing on the faltering hobgoblins and almost slamming into a human with a longbow who had somehow slipped past the main line of battle.

The human turned on him with a grim look on his monstrous face and Hoortchuc sprinted quickly past into Vuroosk's chambers, arrows whizzing about him.  Vuroosk sat slumped against the wall, blood seeping out of three or four arrow wounds.  Hoortchuc hazarded a glance to the barracks and saw Trokken and Tusk pressing the archer hard.  From the den, the beasts roared and Hoortchuc grinned.

With a heave, he pulled Vuroosk onto his back.  He'd never realized how much the hulking sergeant weighed, but then he never thought he'd have to carry him on his back through a battlefield, especially one _inside_ the outpost.

He made his way back out into the chaos in time to see the dwarf kill another and rush to the aid of the archer.  His eyes locked with the bestial eyes of a brown-robed elf that stepped from the south passage and Hoortchuc murmured a prayer and pushed on.

He was almost to the den when pain flared in his legs and they went out from beneath him.  Whimpering, he pulled himself around the corner and glanced at the smoking black holes in the backs of each of his legs.

Vuroosk forgotten, he chanted and pressed the dark symbol of his ring into each of the wounds, nearly screaming as it seared them shut.  Then he noticed the beast master sprawled on the ground, an arrow shaft jutting from his back.

Hoortchuc ran to the body and ripped the keys from its belt.

_I may die_, he thought as he ran across the rank filth of the den to the cage, _but the beasts will feast on elf-flesh first_.

The beasts strained against the bars so hard that, for a moment, he thought he wasn't going to be able to turn the lock.  Then there was a solid _click _and the cage flew open, the door swinging with such force that it knocked him backwards across the room.  He landed heavily on his back, stunned.

When he was able to roll to his hands and knees he saw the beasts pinning the dwarf flat beneath its shield, its companions shouting in dismay and trying futilely to take the creatures down.  He grinned again through his gasps.

Then there was movement out of the corner of his eye and the huge woman appeared like something from a nightmare, silver-haired, bleeding from half-a-dozen wounds and splattered with gore.  Her eyes were the worst, bright and burning with rage.  He raised his hand to protect himself just as the terrible blade of her sword came down.

There was an explosion of pain and then nothing.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 2, Part 3

Ming wrenched her sword out of the back of the massive, shaggy ape-creature and winced.  The thing had hit her hard enough to put dent in the breastplate probably crack a few ribs.  It would have to wait.

"Half-elf, Harold, get over here," she shouted, sheathing her sword and gripping one of the huge, blood-matted ape's arms.  

The others positioned themselves around the two giant bodies.  "On three, heave.  One, two, three!"

It took several tries, but eventually the two massive corpses were dragged away and the dwarf's huge, battered shield became visible.  Kendrin pushed it aside to reveal the beaten form of the dwarf and knelt, murmuring something in what was probably elvish.  At his touch, Ilsa took a shuddering breath and her eyes opened.

Satisfied, Ming turned away, surveying the carnage.  About a dozen hobgoblins lay strewn about the room - some sort of barracks - and arrows stuck from the walls and the heavy door in a score of places.  She wandered over to the door and peered in.

Harold stood ransacking a large wooden desk, skimming through bound journals and loose pages covered with goblin-scrawl.  He glanced up for a moment, nodded to her, and went back to his search.

She had no interest in whatever a hobgoblin felt like writing about - not that she could read it anyway - and so she set to what really interested her.

The castoff sack she scavenged was nearly full of ears when the wizard, the hem of his robe aglow, showed up from down a narrow passage to the east with three small figures in tow.  The first goblin looked big and oafish - for a goblin anyway.  The second had a look of shifty cunning and the third clung to the wizard's robe, eyes huge.  Ming sat on the chest of the hobgoblin she had just finished "trimming" and put one hand on her sword hilt.

Suniel raised his hand.  "These goblins were slaves here.  They say there are others, humans, that may be alive."

He turned to them, had a brief exchange in goblin, and turned back.

"This is Lunt," he said, gesturing to the oafish one.  "Stabber" - the shifty one - "and No-tongue."

"Captives?  Harold said, emerging from the room with a couple leather-bound books and a sheaf of papers under one arm.  He pulled out a long knife from his belt and walked menacingly towards the goblins, rasping something out in their tongue.  Lunt stared at him dully, cow-like, Stabber took a step back, and No-tongue hid behind Suniel's robes.

"They are under my protection, archer," Suniel said, raising his hand to halt Harold.  "No need to threaten them."

"They'll stab you in your sleep if you trust 'em," Ilsa said, staggering over with one hand on her sword hilt and a grim look in her eye.

Suniel turned and looked at her.  "That's my problem."

"If I see 'em anywhere near where I sleep, I'll split them in half," the dwarf said.  "You'd better-"

"Enough of this! Tell them to take us to the captives," Harold said.

The dwarf grumbled and glared at Harold, but they all followed as the goblins led them down the east passage.

***

"Water," Harold demanded as they pulled the last captive from his prison-pit.  The half-elf turned and jogged back into the main room where they'd dumped their supplies and Harold turned back to the five ragged-looking men.

They all squinted at the light and Harold cast a glance at Suniel.  The wizard gestured and the light on his robe winked out, leaving them in total darkness.  A second later, the light flared up anew, but on some object mostly shielded by the wizard's hand.

"Much obliged," one of the men said, a soldier by the look of his barely-recognizable Northmand tabard.

"How long have you been here?" Harold said.

"Don't know," the man said.  "Every once in a while I'd hear them pull someone up out of one of the other pits, but I don't know what happened to them.  I don't think they even meant to use us as slaves, didn't even feed us."

"There was an altar covered with blood at the far end of the barracks," Ilsa said.  "I think I have a guess for where they took them."

Kendrin and Suniel said prayers and the captive's eyes fell.

"Don't worry about that," Harold said.  "The hobgoblins that did it are all dead now."

The soldier nodded and his eyes brightened noticeably as Kendrin came back with two bulging waterskins and a few loaves of bread.  Four of the captives ate and drank greedily and Suniel helped the fifth who was too injured to do so himself.

"Did you see how many there were?" Harold said as the soldier tore into a loaf.

The man shook his head, swallowed, and took another huge gulp of water. 

"We were escorting a wagon-load of ore back from the mines when they hit us, probably a score of them.  We weren't expecting a thing."  He gestured at the other four men.  "Those three are miners, the other I don't know.  He wasn't with us."

Suniel looked up from where he was helping the other man sip from a waterskin.  "He says he's a fisherman, was taken a few days ago."

Something clicked in Harold's mind, piecing together something the soldier had just said with one of the reports he had skimmed with the battle they had just fought.  "Wait, a score?  We killed maybe fifteen - at the most."

There was a long moment of silence as they exchanged glances.  Then, somewhere back in the compound, they heard a shout.

Quickly and quietly, they gathered their weapons and made their way back through the compound.

***

"What took so long?" a voice called down from above in hobgoblin.

Suniel opened his mouth to say something, but Harold spoke first again.  "Who goes there?"

There was a long pause from above and Suniel glanced at Harold.  Harold reached down and clicked the latch on the fur-covered trap door and grinned back at Suniel.

"Who is that?" a different voice called down.

"I'm one of the new ones," Harold called back.  "Come on down."

There was another pause, then, "I hate jumping down, raise the ladder."

As Harold and Suniel looked around, the others stared at them with questioning expressions.  Suniel spotted it first and motioned for Ming to grab it.  She stared at the ladder blankly for a moment, then reached into the nook where it was tucked away and pulled it out.

It took a moment for her to figure out how it extended - a feature that Suniel came closer to examine. Finally, she figured it out, clicked the latch again on the trapdoor, and set the ladder up on it.

"Thanks," a voice called down from above.  There was another long pause.

"What's going on?" Ilsa hissed.  "What are we waiting for?"

"They think we're hobgoblins," Harold said.  "Wait until the first one comes down, then we'll get him."

"I'm not so sure that-" Suniel said, but before he could finish, the dwarf slung her tower shield onto her back and launched up the ladder.

"Wait!" Harold said, as he lunged to grab her and missed.  "Damn!"

Ming grabbed onto the ladder and looked up, just as there was a thudding sound and a grunt from above and she leapt out of the way.

Ilsa's body hit the furs with a thud, three arrows sticking out of her armor and more from her shield.

As Kendrin knelt to minister to her, Ming vaulted up the ladder.  Harold cursed again, then began climbing after her, bow in hand.

With a long sigh and a quick chant, Suniel obscured himself from sight and followed.

Above him Ming and Harold sprung clear of the shaft, arrows whizzing past them from all directions.  Suniel followed a moment later.

By the time he was out, Ming was half-surrounded by four hobgoblins, though one already lay bloody in the dirt.  Nearby, Harold snarled and broke off the arrow-shaft sticking from his side and loosed another arrow, sending a hobgoblin archer rolling down the hill.  Half-a-dozen more loosed arrows at him from the surrounding rocks.  Arrows thudded into the dirt all around.

Suniel ducked low to avoid stray arrows and ran to some nearby rocks.  He turned back in time to see Kendrin leap out of the hole and run to the again-bloodied Ming's side.  A moment later Ilsa followed, arrows still sticking from her shield and armor.  Harold rolled aside as more arrows flew past, came up shooting, and dropped two more archers.

Ming roared and headbutted a big one with stubs for ears as his sword came down on her shoulder.  The hobgoblin staggered back and took a mace in the knee from Kendrin.

Suniel picked a target, uttered a quick spell, and a fiery explosion slammed one of the archers back against the rusty rocks.

A few moments later it was over.  A dozen hobgoblins lay sprawled in the red dirt, their blood mingling with the blood that ran from his companion's many wounds.

Harold removed an arrow with a wince and quickly downed a potion while Kendrin chanted a minor prayer of mending on Ming.  Ming probed the wound on her shoulder, winced, whipped out a long dagger and set to hacking off ears with ferocity.

Suniel let out a long-held breath and whispered a prayer of forgiveness for the lives he had taken.  _As if this one matters compared to all the other corpses that litter my past_, he thought.  _Gods, forgive me._

***

The human village was strange but comforting in its own way.  Nothing like the massive cave-sprawl of Wyrmsrule with its shining golden light, but pleasant none-the-less.  Ilsa winced and touched her collarbone gingerly.  Kendrin swore he would do what he could tomorrow, for he had already used more magic today than he had since his trial and vows, but Ilsa had pestered him the whole journey anyway.

They stopped at what probably passed for a barracks here.  _Not even stone_, she thought.  _Looks fairly sturdy, but still..._ 

Suniel led the three goblins and the five survivors into the village, one leaning heavily on the others for support. An older, bald human with a spear met them all at the door to the barracks.  

"Laris in?" Ming said, dropping a blood-soaked bag into the man's hands.

The man took it gingerly and handed it to the young blond-haired human who came out.

"Here ya go Laris," the older man said.  "They brought a present for ya."

To his credit, Laris didn't flinch as he opened the bag and even had a half-smile on his face when he looked up.  "I sure hope these came from hobgoblins. If not, we might have to talk."

"Should be obvious where they came from," Ming said.  "They're not nearly as nice and clean as yours."

She reached out a hand towards his head and Laris stepped back quickly.

Harold stepped between them and extended the books and sheafs of papers from the outpost.  "A gift from your friends in the Crystal Towers."

"And your friends who don't give a rat's ass about the Crystal Towers," Ming added, drawing a glare from Harold.

Laris set down the bag of ears and took the documents with a questioning look.  He skimmed them for a moment, then looked up, his eyes hard.  "This needs to go to the High Council."

"Why?" Ilsa said.  "Harold hid them away and wouldn't say anything about them the whole way back."

Laris turned to her and raised the documents.  "These say these raids are just the beginning.  Where did you get these?"

"From the outpost we wiped out," Ming said offhandedly as she loosened the straps on her breastplate.

Laris stared at her for a moment, his gaze wandered over their wounds, then to the bag of ears.  "I'll be sure to mention your heroics when I report to Captain Donnolan.  You have the thanks of Northmand."

"It was nothing, the Crystal Towers-" Harold began, but Ming stepped forward and pinched Laris's cheek.

"Anything for you cutie," she said, slapping him on the butt as he stepped quickly away again.  "Oh, could we get the bounty now?"

"Uh, I'll have the Sergeant get that to you as, uh, soon as possible," Laris said, quickly putting a desk between him and Ming.

The old soldier bent to collect the ears and sighed.  Ilsa heard him mutter, "of course he will, the Sergeant has nothing better to do than count bloody hobgoblin ears."

"One of them was already missing his ears," Ilsa said as the Sergeant stood stood.  He stopped and stared at her.  "Ming took his tongue and a finger instead.  Does that count?"

The Sergeant sighed and walked into the barracks.

"I really need a drink," Ming said, turning towards what appeared to be the largest building in town.

Ilsa grinned and jogged to Ming's side.  "Could use a good dwarven dinner myself."

Ming glanced down at her.  "Don't know if they have dwarvish food here.  What do dwarves even do for food?"

Ilsa winked back.  "Drink."


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 2 Crunch.

Ok, so this is the first time I've ever used a module in one of my DnD games.  I had some broad ideas for my game, but when it actually came time to play, I didn't know what I was going to do.

Fortunately, I found this and thought, _Aha!  The Ragged Hills have a Hobgoblin kingdom anyway, perfect_.

I also made a few decisions about this game and how I was going to run it differently from my usual brutal survivalist fare.  I was going to actually let the PCs have some downtime.  I was also going to let things start out small and expand in scope naturally rather than forcing things into epic-ness too quickly.  The result has been extremely rewarding and in all the sessions I've only had 7 player deaths(I'll let you find out who in the narrative  ) - probably a near-record for me in the last 10 years of DMing both in the # of sessions in a campaign and in the small number of casualties.

As for actual crunch I don't remember much, except that Harold continued to rock(though he started a few levels higher than everyone else, won the reduced-stat gamble, and is my "top" powergamer, so I expected it).  Ilsa went down twice, once to the dire-apes mauling her and once to a pile of readied arrows the moment she stuck her head out of the outpost enterance shaft.  Harold's bluff checks were [sarcasm]amazing[/sarcasm], if I remember correctly.

This was Kendrin's first and last session, it being the player's first ever game with us.  Not sure why he stopped playing.  The rest of the game after this had 4 players present consistantly.

I also remember Vuroosk being dissapointing.  4th level with rapid shot and he got maybe 3-4 arrows off before Harold had done so much damage to him that he had to run.  I never though that Harold would be willing to risk 3 AoOs - they all missed - to run past the melee and finish him off.

Hoortchuc didn't fare very well either, but I had less expectations for him.

Ilsa's dragon-shaman auras came in super handy too - every 3.5 group with the PHB II should have some player with 1 level of it just for the auto-stabalize any fallen buddies in 30' and the heal-up-to-half-between-battles-automatically features alone.

Anyway, I'll put up session 3 some time next week.  We play session 25 on Sunday.  
It'll be interesting to see where they go from here - here being where they'll be in 22 sessions from what I have written...


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 3, Part 1

-Note: Took a while to get this up, busy week.  We played session 25 last weekend and I'm still not sure where the campaign is going to go.  Had another character die, but to be honest, with what they decided to take on, I'm surprised any of them survived.  Not only survived, but defeated it!  But that's something for much later.

Hope someone's enjoying this.  It's fun revisiting where it all started, back when things were so simple.  Almost nostalgic.

Anyway, back to the story.-

Harold rolled his shoulder and massaged it briefly before placing ten arrows point-down in the dirt.  The barrel wasn't a perfect archery butt, but it would do.  One by one, slowly and carefully, he fired the ten arrows into the barrel, occasionally glancing about to see if anyone was watching.  Unfortunately, the streets were largely bare, most of the people out fishing or farming or whatever they all did here.  He retrieved his arrows with a sigh and headed back around the inn.

He heard Suniel's voice - speaking in goblin - before he saw him.

"...but if I let you go, I can't guarantee your safety.  I won't pay you for your service, but you will have food and shelter and can make spending money however you are able - as long as it doesn't hurt others and is legal that is."

Harold turned the corner to see Suniel kneeling, talking to the three goblins in the shade of his carriage.  The large one sat in the dirt chewing on his nails, the shifty one listened  to Suniel with half-lidded eyes, while the simple one tried to stare at his tongue as he bit at it, jerking his head around as if to get a better view of it.

Suniel looked up and nodded and Harold knelt next to him for a moment.

"You mean to actually keep these creatures around?" he said softly in common, casting a sideways glance at the goblins.  "Can't trust goblins, especially that shifty one."

"Stabber?"  Suniel said, casting a brief look at him.  "No, I think he's the smartest one.  If I can keep him in line then Lunt and No-Tongue will stay in line too."  

Suniel turned to the goblins again. 

"Well?" he said in their tongue.

"We'd just get slaved again if we went back to through the Raggeds," Stabber said.  "So I say, sounds good Boss."

Suniel nodded and glanced at Lunt.  The goblin picked his nose and shrugged.

"He seems to be trying to prove to himself that he has a tongue," Harold murmured, watching No-Tongue's antics.

No-Tongue, now pulling his tongue out as far is it would go and staring cross-eyed at it, seemed to finally notice the conversation and Suniel and Harold staring at him.  

"Master?" he said.

Stabber cast a sharp glance in his direction.  "He talks?  Huh.  He's never talked before."

No-Tongue seemed excited by his new word.  

"Master," he said happily.  "Master, master, master, master, master, master, master..."  

He repeated it over and over, skipping around Suniel and Harold. Harold rolled his eyes and extricated himself from the ridiculous situation, heading for the barracks.

***

Ming leaned against the wall and tore off another piece of jerky as Harold approached.  The archer cast a glance at the barracks door, then at her.

"Laris headed off to Northmand first thing this morning," she said.  "Sergeant said he was in quite a hurry.  Whatever you found was pretty important I guess."

Harold straightened his back.  "Important?  Of course it was important.  It mentioned patrol times, supply routes, the rough locations of half-a-dozen other nearby outposts-"

"Yeah, whatever," Ming said, waving her hand to cut him off.  "So what now?"

Harold stared at her for a moment before answering.  "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes.  "What do we do now I mean.  That bounty money was half-decent.  I could handle a bit more of it."

"Well, I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm a member of the Honor Guard for Crystal Towers Diplomat  to Northmand.  I only had a few days furlough and I need to get back to report for duty," Harold said, turning away.

"Great," Ming said, following.  "I'll come with."

Harold glanced over his shoulder at her and glowered.  "Why?"

Ming glanced at the Ragged Hills, bathed in the light of the mid-morning sun.  "I've run out of west and think we might have ruined my chances of the Hobgoblins welcoming me with open arms.  Arms drawn maybe..."

Harold shook his head and raised his arms in the air as he walked away.  "Whatever, come if you like."

Ming wondered if she was making the right decision, going back there.  _They won't be looking for me with this group anyway_, she thought.  _Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight_.

***

Ilsa mounted her pony and leaned down to adjust the stirrup.  Kendrin made a few adjustments to his saddle and mounted as well.

In a few minutes, everyone was ready and they set out; Harold at the head on his black warhorse, the black carriage behind him with Suniel and Ming on the bench and the three goblins atop, Ilsa and Kendrin taking up the rear on rugged mountain ponies.

The peaceful Northmand countryside passed quickly - the late summer heat made almost pleasant by the frequent shade of over-arching trees.  After an hour or so of quiet riding, Ilsa heard fragments of conversation from ahead, unintelligible over the rattle of the carriage.  She nodded to Kendrin to keep the rear and kicked her pony forward.

"...well, I come from the South originally," Suniel said as she rode up.  The elf and the warrior woman glanced down at Ilsa and nodded to her.

Ming leaned back on the bench.  "Just 'South' is pretty vague, wizard."

Suniel gave a slight smile.  "So is just 'East,' Ming."

"Fair enough," Ming said, digging into a pouch at her side and producing a strip of jerky.

"It's a big world out there," Suniel said, pulling on the reins to steer the carriage around a sizable pothole.

"So dwarf, where do you hail from again?" she said between chews, glancing down at Ilsa.

"Wyrmsrule," Ilsa said, eying Ming's pouch.  Ming followed her gaze down, gave a short laugh, and tossed her a strip. Ilsa tore off a bite of jerky gratefully, regretting not eating a larger breakfast.  

"So, what brings you down here?" Ming said.  "Isn't Wyrmsrule up to the north, past the Ragged Hills?"

Ilsa nodded.  "I'm here on a diplomatic mission as well."

Ming snorted and glanced at the fields of wheat that swayed in a gentle breeze as they passed.  "Everyone wants a piece of Northmand.  Doesn't seem so special to me.  Boring."

"What you call 'boring' others call peace, prosperity, safety.  Rare commodities in most of the rest of the world," Suniel said, smiling as he watched a small flock of brown birds chase each other through the fields.

Ilsa nodded solemnly in agreement.

Ming shrugged and stuffed the rest of the strip of jerky in her mouth and stretched out.  "Well, whatever.  Boring is boring.  I'm going to take a nap."

"Thanks for the jerky," Ilsa said, reining in her horse.

"Master, Master!" the little goblin called down to her cheerfully as the carriage passed.  He had put together a "fishing pole" - a length of rope attached to a long stick - and was casting it into the fields as they passed, legs dangling and swinging like dwarven child might off one of Wyrmsrule's many overlooks.  The other one, Stabber she thought his name was, palmed something as she rode past, but she didn't get a good look at what it was.

After the carriage had passed, Ilsa smiled sadly and rode alongside Kendrin.

"What do you think?" the half-elf said. Ilsa leaned over and handed him the last of the strip of jerky. 

"I hope fervently that they agree to hear us and just as fervently that our troubles don't spread here," Ilsa said.

Kendrin nodded and let out a long sigh. They rode in companionable silence for the rest of the trip.


----------



## Ed Gentry

I'm enjoying it very much. Keep it up.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 3, Part 2

-Note: Sorry it's taking so long to update and that it's pretty short.  These last few weeks have been crazy busy.  After next weekend I should be able to post more regularly.-

Ilsa's first perception of Northmand was comforting, for Northmand was a city of walls.  She recognized the dwarven stone masonry in Northmand's three rings - walls more than a hundred feet thick, with much of the city's houses, crafts-houses, inns, and shops build inside their wide breadths.

It appealed to dwarven sensibilities and human both.  Dwarves preferred to surround themselves in stone and humans preferred to live beneath the sky.  In Northmand they had both, with the added features of a fortress and with enough space between the fortress-city's three rings for small gardens, markets, corrals, and parks.

The gate guards were well-informed enough that Harold's blue-and-white Crystal Towers uniform alone was enough to get them through the three Walls and into the inner Keep.  And apparently Laris's report was enough to get them an immediate audience.

They were led by a pair of Keep Guard to a spacious, well-furnished room just off the inner courtyard of the Keep.  An officer sat, wearing his gray-and-white dress uniform casually, leaning back at his writing desk and tugging at his blond goatee as he read through the hobgoblin reports.  Laris looked young and unpolished where he stood behind in his plain, dusty uniform.

The officer looked up, smiled broadly, and stood as they entered.  "These must be the heroes of the outpost raid that I heard Laris talking to me about."

Harold stepped forward, his uniform immaculate due to his demand that they stop at a tailor and laundry on their way through town.  "The Crystal Towers holds its allies' interests in high regard Captain..."

"Donnolan," the officer said.  "You know our ranks?"

Harold nodded.  "We hold their customs and regulations in high regard as well."

"Yes of course."  Donnolan's gaze skimmed across Ming, Ilsa, Suniel, and Ilsa with barely a pause.  "Well, Northmand thanks all of you for your efforts.  The Iron Tribe attacks on our mining operations were unprovoked though unfortunately not unprecedented.  I imagine we'll have more problems with this Chieftain Neergrog the reports were addressed to before too long."

"Wyrmsrule has had similar problems," Ilsa said.

Donnalan's gaze returned and appraised Ilsa again.  

"We seem to have no shortage of ambassadors lately.   Seems like everyone's having troubles lately.  If it's not the Iron Tribes of the Ragged Hills, it's the White Clans of the Mist Tops," he paused for emphasis, staring at Ilsa for a moment longer before traveling to Harold, "it's the Ashen Tower."

Harold nodded.  "The Ashen Tower won't rest at the Freeholds if the Crystal Towers fall, they'll be-"

Captain Donnolan raised his hands with another grin.  "Save it for the Diplomats, Honor Guard Trisden, we're just simple soldiers here.  Especially since most of the High Council and your Ambassador have decided to take a week long tour of the Northmand lands."

"A week?" Harold and Ilsa said simultaneously.

Donnolan handed Harold a scroll.  Ilsa caught a glimpse of five slender towers imprinted in the wax of its seal before Harold sliced it open.  "The Ambassador overheard my summary of Laris's report to the Council before he left.  He left those with me."

Ming leaned over Harold's shoulder and Harold quickly jerked the scroll away.  Ming snorted and dropped into an armchair.

"Further Crystal Towers relations with Northmand?" Harold said.  "What type of order is that?"

"Well, you've done a pretty good job so far, in a few Northmand officers' opinions," Donnolan said, lounging back into his seat and turning to Ilsa.  "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a week or so until they get back."

Ilsa sighed and Kendrin put his hand on her shoulder.

"I'll stay and wait here," Kendrin whispered, "I know how you feel about waiting..."

"Thanks," Ilsa said, already itching to be out amidst the heavy cut stone of Northmand's Walls.

***

Suniel smiled and handed a small charm to the young couple.  At his feet No-Tongue sat, singing "master, maaaaster" to himself softly while he whittled at some wood.

"We're done for the night.  Stabber, Lunt, lower the awning and pack up the stall," Suniel called.

Stabber grumbled but complied.  Lunt was no where to be seen.

Suniel sighed and walked around to the back of the Carriage where he'd spent most of the day building "bed boxes" for them.  At first he had thought the idea strange, but it seemed the best use of space.  All worries about the goblins refusing to sleep in what were essentially wooden crates faded earlier in the day when he'd finished the first, come back with more materials to finish the second and found Lunt asleep in the first.

Harold rode up just as he and Stabber finished stowing the stall's components.  "If you're interested, wizard, we're heading back to Laketide tomorrow.  The reports indicated that the hobgoblins are going to be launching more raft raids and Laris also requested that we show them where the outpost is so they can keep an eye on it.  Interested?"

Suniel thought it over for a moment, watching the city-folk stroll about the park near where he'd set up shop.  _So few places left with peace_, he thought.  _And how much of that is because..._

He met Harold's eyes and stared for a moment, realizing what he saw there.  Here was a man who possessed a single-minded determination, a man with a cause that settled the world into reassuring shades of black and white. He'd die for what he believed in a heartbeat.

"I'll go," Suniel said.

Without another word, Harold nodded and rode away.

***

Ming's hangover wasn't helped by the over-bright noon sun or the jostling of the carriage as they rode back to Laketide.  At least her guess had been right - no one had come looking for her.  Just in case, a couple more days roaming in the Ragged Hills collecting hobgoblin-ear bounties wouldn't go amiss.

She started to think about the future and felt a stirring of fear.  A second later her wineskin was in hand.  Suniel glanced at her but didn't comment as she took a dozen gulps, spilling all over her armor as the carriage bounced along.

_If they find me..._


----------



## d'Anconia

Awesome!

I'm really enjoying the story. Can't wait to see what happens next. So - does Kendrin continue on as an NPC from here on, or does she exit with the player?


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 3, Part 3

-Notes: Kendrin became a pseudo-NPC until we determined that the player  wasn't coming back.  After that (plus the events of Session#5) the  character pretty much passed out of the scope of the game-

Suniel wished he'd prepared some enchantment to ward off the heat - or that he knew one that would do the same for dust.  After wandering out in the Ragged Hills for half a day in the July heat, his companions seemed to share his opinion.

Harold kept muttering and trying to brush the red dust from his uniform, Ming was irritable - though that could be the lack of alcohol - and Ilsa was removing her helm every few minutes and making jokes about "if only sweat were ale."  The old Sergeant and the six men he had brought with seemed weary, sore, and downtrodden.

Harold stopped again, glancing sharply about at the hills.  Suniel had been getting the feeling that the archer wasn't nearly as good a scout as he thought he was, but figured they were pretty much lost by now anyway, so it didn't really matter if he said anything about it.  Besides, with the blazing heat and the ill mood the group was in, it could start trouble.

After another hour of walking along a baked-dry creek bed with no noticeable progress - and the realization that his waterskin was dry - Suniel was about ready to finally say something when the air was suddenly full of projectiles and shouts.

He instinctively dropped to a crouch, a spell of warding flying from his lips as he searched the hills for their attackers.  About half a dozen of them up one hill, the same up another on the other side, both groups hiding behind rough, rusted outcroppings.  Suniel didn't need to know much about tactics to conclude that this hobgoblin ambush was executed perfectly - and that they'd walked right into the middle of it.

Ilsa already had two broken-off javelins sticking out of her armor and was struggling up one hill with Ming at her side while Harold ducked, weaved, nearly took a couple javelins in the chest, and fired off arrow after arrow up the other hill.  Two of the Sergeant's men already lay bleeding in the baked red gravel of the creek-bed and another was screaming and clutching the javelin sticking out of his leg.

Suniel uttered an incantation and blasted a hobgoblin's head off with twin bolts of energy.

A hail of javelins rained down in response, two deflecting off his wardings, another two passing through and gashing his arm and side.  Another of the Sergeant's men went down trying to drag one of his fallen comrades behind a bleached log.  Suniel glanced about for a log of his own as the hobgoblins threw a final volley of javelins and came charging down the hill, war-chanting in unison, but a blur of red in the sky caught his eye.

He stared up in a daze, the immanent threat of being run-through by an angry hobgoblin replaced by the more immediate threat of a giant ball of fire trailing black smoke and a rain of fiery debris falling directly towards where he stood.

A warning shout in goblin stopped the hobgoblins in their tracks as they stared up, backpedaling, while Suniel called out a warning of his own in common.  He managed to get a bit of distance and threw himself over a small boulder just as the ball of flame struck the ground and detonated.

***

Ming staggered through the smoke, head ringing, with a vague impression that she was going steeply uphill and the ground was shifting.  After a few more steps she saw the body of one of the Laketide soldiers and realized she was the one that was unstable, not the ground.  She sat down hard by the corpse and stared out, the smoke parting long enough for her to see a handful of blackened and burnt hobgoblin ambushers running into the hills.

_Hope they didn't get their ears burned off_, she thought, then snorted a laugh that came out as more of a painful grunt.  A compact unit of metal, wood, and dwarf walked up to her, prying javelins free from her huge shield.  A golden shimmer radiated from Ilsa that Ming had half-glimpsed before but now shone in the smoky air.

As the dwarf clanked down next to her Ming took an experimental deep breath, expecting the same pain that she had felt when she'd laughed.  Instead, she felt a soothing, tingling warmth beneath her armor and across her arms.  She stared at the light burns she had across her hands, watching them heal before her eyes.

"Blessings from the High One," Ilsa said, gesturing at Ming's hand.

"The High One?" Ming echoed dully, shaking her head to clear the ringing.

"They don't call it Wyrmsrule for nothing," Ilsa said.

They both stared as a figure strolled out of the roiling mass of flame and wreckage that marked the impact site.  At first Ming thought it was the elf, but then she realized this one's robes were strange, outlandish, and somehow unburnt.  As the figure wandered closer, Ming fumbled for her sword, but it was on her in a blur, a slender yellow finger shooting out and stopping half-an-inch from her face.

"Marp!" the figure said and poked her nose.

She swore and swung at him, but he ducked calmly and stepped back in, landing another "Marp," smiling, and wandering past her as if she didn't have six feet of sharpened steel over her head ready to cut him in half.

"Halt, Ming!" Harold called out from somewhere behind her as she swung at the fire-walker.  She pulled the blow, but barely, stopping the swing a few inches from his back.  The humanoid turned, glanced at the blade, rapped a knuckle on it, and leaned an elongated ear close to the blade to listen to it vibrate.

She jerked the sword away and stormed off, in search of some sanity after the sky fell, exploded, and turned into a yellow-skinned simpleton.

***

"Where do you come from?" Harold asked for the fifth time, starting to get frustrated.

The creature, tall and slender with yellowed and slightly scaled skin, clothed in a garment foreign in style and material, blinked at him a few times then picked up a pair of pebbles.  It made swooshing noises as it moved them around, then clicked one into the other and dropped one into the dirt.  As it hit the ground, it yelled, "_vashoom_!" and grinned at Harold.

"What do you think it means?" Suniel said, wandering up the hill to where Harold and the frustrating sky-thing sat, out of the smoke and heat of the wreck.

"I think it means he has no idea what I'm saying and finds the whole situation very amusing."

They watched as the figure ran a hand across the rusty rock of the outcropping, then licked his hand.  "Narm narm narm," the creature said, flicking his tongue in and out, then tasting again with similar results.

Harold rolled his eyes and motioned Suniel to the rock he had been sitting on.  "See if you can make sense of it, I give up."

He dismissed the thing's usefulness and went in search of the Sergeant and his men, estimating how many he would find alive.

***

Ilsa helped bury the last fallen soldier and retrieved her tower shield.  The Sergeant, his two remaining men, and Suniel murmured prayers over the four graves while Ming stuffed a whole biscuit into her mouth and Harold stared off into the hills with that calculating look in his eye.  The sky-fallen one sat with his head cocked to one side, watching Ming eat with rapt fascination.

Ilsa murmured a quick prayer of her own for the fallen and walked over to Harold.  He glanced in her direction with a distant look.

"Unfortunate about those young men," she said, standing beside him and crossing her arms across her tower shield and leaning on it.

"Yes, I suppose it is," he said, glancing towards the late-afternoon sun.  "I imagine it's best if we press on soon though if we want to reach the outpost before dark."

"Whatever you say," she glanced about for the sky-fallen one and startled to see him standing next to her, mimicking her pose exactly.  

Without even apparently noticing that she was watching him, he wandered off a few steps, picked up a javelin, stared intently at the bent point, and whistled.  "Does stuff like this happen often out in the lands of the sky?"

Harold glanced at the sky-fallen one then at her.  "Lands of the sky?  Oh, you mean anywhere not Wyrmsrule.  No, I've never seen anything like him or whatever that was that fell and, you know..."  

He waved his hand in the direction of the still-burning wreckage.

Ilsa nodded but was unconvinced.  Already she missed the security and enclosing comfort of Wyrmsrule's caves and tunnels.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the others gathering their gear again, sighed, grabbed her pack and hefted her shield again.

She turned and watched as the sky-fallen one bit the javelin experimentally a few times, sniffed it, and tried again.

_Well, seems harmless enough_, she thought, glancing into the sky to see a large dark figure plummeting towards them, arms outstretched, swathes of black cloth rippling and snapping in the wind.  Even from the rapidly-diminishing distance she could see it's eyes glowing like lightning.

_Now _that _ on the other hand..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 3, Part 4

-Notes: played session 26 this last weekend.  It went... unfortunately, in large part due to my misreading of what certain monsters summon.  Skimming OR as AND actually makes a huge(character killing) difference.  Feel bad about it, but there is some in-game justification for the extra "summoned" creatures.  If I'd read it correctly, the two characters that died in the last two sessions might still be alive and, well... live and learn I guess.-

The group made a loose line and watched warily as the huge black-robed figure's descent gradually slowed until it finally came to a stop floating upright twenty feet off the ground.  Harold figured it was about twelve feet tall and it seemed strangely bulky about the legs.  _Or where the legs should be_, he thought, trying to discern any bit of anatomy beneath the voluminous black robe, long sleeves, and deep cowl.  Only the lightning-spark of its eyes was visible.

For a long moment they stared at the thing until, with a beast-like roar, the sky-fallen one charged towards it.

Harold nocked an arrow as the thing's lightning eyes flared and a crackling blast of energy shot towards the sky-fallen one.  The sky-fallen ducked and rolled as the beam struck the ground behind him and detonated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harold saw the others glancing uncertainly amongst themselves, weapons drawn.

Harold too was undecided.  He had no attachment to the sky-fallen one and, if the floating... thing turned hostile, it would be useful to see what its capabilities were before they had to fight it.  

The decision was made for them a moment later.

Eight black-swathed, humanoid figures - about the height of a dwarf, but lean like an elves - dropped from the floating figure, landing kneeling in the dust, heads bowed, one hand on the ground, the other held out to the side and ending in a blade.  As one, the eight figures looked up, lightning crackling in their eyes.

The sky-fallen one stopped in front of them, pressed his hands together, then dropped into a low stance, his hands moving in smooth yet precise patterns before him.  He froze with one leg bent, foot pressed against the other knee, palms pressed together, eyes closed.

His eyes snapped open as the eight black figures' eyes all flared at the same time and beams of energy blasted out.

***

Ilsa reeled with the force of the explosion against her shield.  With a flick of thought she called upon the Scale of the Dragon and felt her totem energy shift as she charged forwards towards the black-swathed figures.

One turned and charged to meet her, its movements remarkably fast.  She swung her sword and it vaulted over, unleashing a blast of energy from its eyes that she barely dodged.  It landed and immediately lunged at her with its sword arm.  She parried, slammed her shield into the thing, then brought her sword down onto its shoulder, bracing for the jarring impact of metal biting into flesh.

Instead her blade sheared through black cloth and rebounded with a clang, the numbing shock of metal-on-metal impact almost making her drop the sword.  She stumbled backwards as it threw itself at her, slamming into her shield and using it to launch backwards in an aerial somersault, blasting her with another beam of energy while in mid-air.

She staggered backwards, armor glowing faintly, and braced herself, staring at the thing as the battle raged around her.  As it launched into the air again, the black cloth that robed it came partially away, revealing the rough black-and-red of rusty cast-iron, with a small dent in its shoulder where her sword had struck.

Her eyes met the twin slits of energy that the thing had for eyes for a brief, still moment.  Then the lightning flared anew and she threw her shield between her and it, bracing for another blast.

***

Suniel reeled with the pain, his left arm dangling useless at his side as he hurled another gleaming coal at the black figure that pressed him backwards, striking it squarely in the chest.  The coal burned through the cloth, clanged against something underneath, then flared brightly, shining red through the black cloth that garbed the figure before detonating in flame.

The thing landed, black cloth drifting down in smoldering scraps, the iron of its body glowing red around the gaping hole in its chest.  _It's a construct?_ Suniel thought, frozen for a moment in surprise.  It took one jerky step towards him, then the light in its eyes faded and it stood there, inert.

Suniel took a deep breath of relief and gathered his wits.

He had only a moment. Before he could raise his hand or open his mouth to cast another spell, the thing flared with energy and exploded, hurling him backwards in a hail of charged iron shrapnel.

***

Ming cursed and hit one of the two things harrying her, the force of the impact putting a huge dent in the side of its head and wrenching it to an extreme angle.  It staggered back but didn't go down.

She kicked out and knocked the other away as it jumped towards her back, glancing up to see two more arrows clang into the big one as it traded blasts of energy and arrows with Harold.

With the brief respite she'd purchased, she sprinted a few steps up the hill and turned so, for a moment, the two she was fighting were down the hill in front of her, granting her a split second to take in the rest of the battle.  Her companion were scattered about in small, deadly combats, Ilsa nearby holding off another of the things while Suniel and the Sergeant struggled with three more thirty feet away.  As she watched, the Sergeant was cut down and they turned on Suniel.

Then the fire-walker stepped into view, holding an gold-chained amulet over its head.  Instantly, all the iron constructs broke off and rushed it, eyes flaring in unison.

Ming wondered at the fire-walker's courage - or stupidity - as they converged on it. The fire-walker calmly lowered the amulet and held its long hand palm-up before its face, a lotus of flame blossoming in the fire-walker's palm. With a smile, the fire-walker blew.

All six of the remaining smaller iron constructs vanished in a blast of fire and, even at her distance, Ming recoiled from the intensity of the heat.  When she turned back, the things were exploding amidst the swirls of fire.  Then the fire dissipated, leaving a swath of ground studded with smoldering iron shards.

There was another boom and she turned in time to see the an arrow embed in the center the big, flying construct's of its head.  Harold lowered his bow as the thing trembled, lightning playing through the black cloth that still swathed it.  Then the shaking stopped and it stared at Harold, eyes flaring so brightly Ming could barely look.

Harold dove backwards but, as the beam of energy had just begun to form, the thing detonated from the head down, showering the area with sparking shards of metal.

Ming lowered her sword and turned towards the fire-walker.  It sat on the scorched earth, legs crossed and hands on its knees, eyes closed, a smile on its lips.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 3, Part 5

Suniel wandered over to the still-smoking blast area where the six constructs had exploded and gingerly picked up a long shard of metal from where it stuck in the ground.  It felt and looked like iron, but as he held it it began to dissolve.  Within seconds he held a handful of tiny metal flakes that lifted away in the hot wind.

The rest of the fragments that carpeted the area were dissolving as well, until there was nothing there but a fine dusting of iron slowly drifting off into the dust.

The sky monk - or at least Suniel thought of him as a monk - still sat in meditation, legs crossed, humming faintly to himself.  Suniel thought for a moment of trying to ask the monk what had just transpired but, thinking of the last few attempts at communication with it, decided against it.

He turned to see Ming and Ilsa kneeling over the body of the Sergeant.

"Gone," Ming said, pausing for a moment of silence, head bowed, before shrugging and rifling through the man's uniform.

"Have you no respect for the dead?" Suniel said, walking quickly over to where the man lay.

Ming glanced up as he walked over, the man's coin-pouch in her hand.  "No, not particularly.  Why?"

Suniel snatched the pouch from Ming.  "Bury them."

She stared back at him coolly.  "If we're just going to bury them, might as well take whatever they have.  If not, the hobgoblins will probably come, dig them up, and take it anyway."

Ilsa walked up, dusty, dirty, blackened, and spattered with rapidly-drying blood.  She pointed at the monk and the charred, smoking area around him.  "We were just attacked by... metal things that fell from the sky shooting lightning from their eyes and you're arguing over burial practices?"

Harold walked up as well, glancing at the monk.  "I have the feeling there's not much more to be gleaned from talking about it.  We all saw what we saw and that's all we know now, unless someone here knows something they aren't letting on?"

The four of them exchanged looks and Ming shrugged.  "Whatever, let's head back to the village then."

"What about the outpost?" Harold said.

"What about it?  The whole point of going there was to show him where it was," Ming said, toeing the Sergeant's corpse with her boot.

"Well, we're pretty close now, might as well check it out," Harold said, peering out into the dusty, jagged hills.

"Oh, come on, you have no idea where we are," Ming said.  "You've were lost for hours only to led us straight into the middle of an ambush.  I say we go back."

Suniel stepped forward with hands raised towards the two of them as Harold's face darkened.  "Harold is right.  I think I remember this area now.  We could be to the outpost in less than an hour."

Harold nodded to Suniel.  "Then we move on."

"After we bury the bodies," Suniel said.

"Of course," Harold said.

"Dig away," Ming said.  "I'm going to go find some shade and pretend my water is wine."

"What about him," Ilsa said, pointing to where the monk still sat.

They all glanced at the monk and Harold shrugged.  "He's no concern of ours, let him do whatever he's going to do."

As if sensing them looking at him, the monk opened his eyes, looked briefly in their direction, yawned, and lay back, stretching out in the charred dirt and iron dust and promptly dozing off.

***

They reached the outpost in the late afternoon and Harold was immediately wary; the bodies of the hobgoblins they'd killed outside were gone.

He motioned everyone to the trap door that sat open and peered in, seeing the ladder in place exactly as they'd left it.

"I'll go in first," Harold said.  "If it's clear, Suniel comes down with light and the rest follow."

Without waiting for a response, he climbed down the ladder, drawing his bow from his quiver and nocking an arrow as soon as he reached the bottom.  He looked down the shaft of his arrow, sweeping the narrow passageway.

The bodies were gone here as well and there was a strange smell, like rotting meat but odd and unpleasantly familiar.  The small hairs on the back of his neck stirred.  He motioned for the others to come down and they quickly complied, including the one they had started calling "the monk."  Even the monk seemed on edge, tense and advancing in a fighting crouch.

"Undead," Suniel said, as he waved his hand and summoned light on a pebble.

Harold cast him a sharp look, but Ming and Ilsa were already heading down the tunnel.  Suniel and the monk followed quickly behind.

A moment later Harold followed, staring at the wizard's back, dark suspicions and grim recollections of battles against the horrors of the Ashen Towers rising from buried memories.

***

The smell of _wrongness_ was almost overpowering and Ming had to clench her sword grip tightly to keep from shaking.  It smelled like the lake by their village when she was a child and the things had come out of the water after that unnatural storm, rotting, relentless, hungering...

Ming came around the corner to the central barracks area where the worst of the fighting had occurred last time they were here and saw a dozen hobgoblins standing clustered together in the center of the room, heads bowed as if in the midst of some dark prayer.  A battle cry died in her throat as Suniel came around the corner behind her, his light fully illuminating the room.

They weren't hobgoblins, not anymore.

As one, the things turned, low sobbing moans emerging from their lips, the same moans she had heard that night when they came...

Around her her companions surged into motion, but for Ming there was nothing but blind panic.

_...one grabbed mother's leg as she tried to climb onto the roof.  Father slid down to grab her but lost his footing and they had him too... huddled in the thatch of the roof as they ate them alive, pulling them apart... couldn't take the awful sounds anymore and jumped as far as she could... landing running just out of the things' grasp as they came after her, close behind as she ran blindly into the dark..._

***

"Ming, damnit!" Ilsa shouted as the huge woman collided with another of the walking dead and fell, sword clattering to the ground as she scrambled on all fours past them.  Ilsa cut another down and slammed her shield into the press of them as Suniel blasted one next to her apart with his magic.

Ming somehow made it through them and ran down the passage towards the prison area.  The last Ilsa saw of her, her eyes were blank, her expression a mask of blind terror. And then she was gone, disappearing into the dark.

The four companions remaining settled into the grim work; Ilsa hacking down anything that came around the wall of her shield as they pressed hard against her, Harold's arrows tearing into them like metal rain, Suniel ripping them apart with his magic, the monk a blur of movement, breaking the dead down one bone at a time until whatever foul sorcery that held them together dissipated.

Aside from their constant moan, the things died without cry or wail, taking wounds that would have left anything living writhing on the stone, pulling themselves up her weapon with their already-rotting hands, battering against wood and metal and flesh.

Just when they seemed to almost have the last of them put down, there was a roaring moan and, from the corner of her eye, she saw two huge shaggy forms staggering out of the darkness, skin sagging and fur coming out in clumps.

A moment later they were on her, slamming into her shield as they had when they were alive, but this time with the uncanny strength of the dead.

***

Suniel twisted his hand and uttered the last syllable of the incantation.  The last of the dead exploded in a stinking blast of smoldering fur and dead flesh.

There was a moment of silence broken only by their heavy breathing and the strange spitting _pleh_ sound the monk was making, as if he'd eaten something foul.

Harold turned to Suniel, but Suniel had already pushed past the others, desperate for air and light.

He stumbled up the ladder and sat heavily in the dust, suddenly glad for the baking, dry heat and glaring sun after the unnatural cold and dark of the outpost.

Unseeing, he stared out across the Ragged Hills.

_It has come.  No matter how far I travel,_ he thought, lost and numb.  _How much farther can I go to escape it?_

***

"Ming?  Come on out Ming," Ilsa called through the thick wooden door.  The monk glanced at her quizzically, then put his ear to the door, eyes squinted in concentration.

Ilsa thought she heard sobbing on the other side but wasn't sure.  "Ming, lets get out of here.  It'll be better if you get outside.  Ming?"

Harold came up behind her, quickly taking in the situation.  He disappeared back down the passageway and came back a moment later with a crude hobgoblin axe.

"Chop it down and get her out of there," he said as he tossed it to her.  "I don't think we want to linger here.  I'm going to do one last sweep of the place, make sure there isn't anything we missed the first time, then let's get out."

She caught the axe and watched as Harold walked away.

"First we get ambushed, then you fall from the sky in a ball of fire," she said, turning to the monk.  "Then your metal friends attack, explode, and turn to dust and an hour later we're knee-deep in the dead.  I think I miss Wyrmsrule."

He stared back at her for a long moment, as if contemplating what she'd said.  Finally, he raised a long, slender finger into the air, like a scholar about to pronounce something profound.

Instead, he bopped her on the nose with a single knuckle.

"Marp!"

***

Ming struggled out of her waking nightmare to the flicker of torchlight and the weight of something pressing down on her. She was pinned down and began flailing about again in panic before realizing that it was Ilsa that sat on one arm, the monk on the other.

"What happened?" she said, terror rising in her chest again as she remembered.  "The dead, are they coming?  Let me free!"

She strained against them, almost lifting both of them off the ground, but Ilsa slapped her, hard.

"They're dead.  Well, dead again.  Control yourself woman," the dwarf said, dropping her knee painfully onto Ming's upper-arm.  "If you hit me again, I might have to use this axe on you."

They let her go and she stood warily, staring at the splintered door and the axe in Ilsa's hand.  "What happened here?"

Ilsa grunted and tossed the blunted axe into one of the prison pits.  "Your courage failed when you saw the dead and you clawed your way _through_ them of all things.  When we finally killed them - no thanks to you - I came to find you barricaded in here, sobbing incoherently.  It took me chopping the door down to get you out."

Ming stared at the darkness of the doorway for a moment and grabbed up the torch that lay sputtering on the floor for reassurance.  "Where's my sword?"

"It's out wherever you dropped it."  Ilsa popped her jaw and rubbed it as she walked through the doorway, the monk close behind.  The dwarf grabbed her shield and nodded her head towards the tunnel.  "Let's get going, if we hurry and Harold doesn't get us lost, we might be able to make it back to Laketide in time to sleep in real beds.  Harold's almost done with his sweep of the place so let's move."

Ming followed close behind, jumping at every shadow.  When they reached the main barracks room, the dwarf and monk disappeared down the passageway to the surface as Ming searched for her sword amongst the hacked and gutted corpses.  She found it amidst the corpses and hefted its weight several times for reassurance.  As she started to walk out, she caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye.

A tingle ran up her spine and she had to bite back the bile that rose in the back of her throat.  She walked towards the movement warily, approaching the small alcove at the edge of the barracks area, following a trail of half-dried blood and viscera.

The torso of one of the dead hobgoblins lay in the alcove, its arm stretched out towards the hobgoblin's execution block.

There, written in blood was a single word.

_Suniel_.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 3 Crunch

I never would have thought my favorite campaign would be in-part a product of a joke about "robot ninja assassins with laser-beam eyes."

Someone had joked around about it and I thought, what the hell, I'll do it, though without explicitly calling them that in game.

It turned out to be one of the sparks that made this campaign so unique.  Once I decided to "drop" them on the players, I then had to figure out where the heck they came from - I mean, robot ninja assassins with laser-beam eyes?  Come on, how can that work in a campaign without being rediculous?  When I figured it out, it really made the campaign gel for me.

To rewind a bit to when I was first figuring out this campaign, I started with a continent map that I whipped up in the couple weekends before the game started.  I just stuck interesting landmarks and things all over, not having any idea what they were about, not even naming them.  I also made sure to leave large parts of the map blank to fill in later.

Then I picked a spot - Northmand - and created some more details about the surrounds.  I told the players they were starting in Northmand, gave them a few details, then collaborated with them about who they were and why they were there.  I had a little bit of "meta-plot," but knew very little of the broader world.  In otherwords, campaign creation was bottom-up rather than top-down.

Anyway, back to the session.  There were actually two players who used to play with us in High School and were visiting from California for this session.  One made a half-dragon githzerei monk from <location removed to avoid spoilers> and "reflavored" what he ended up with a bit.  The other player made another elf wizard.  I chose to remove him from the narrative since a) I don't really remember much about him being there since he didn't interact with the players much, b) he made it at the last minute(like, right before the session started) and I had no good narrative way of inserting him into the game, and c) the character would have disrupted the narrative version more than added to it.

I also had to do some redactivism with Suniel since his player was there for the beginning, but was sick, left early, and missed the rest of the session.  In the actual game I did some "DM magic" and quickly hand-waved him back into the game in the next session, but I found it unsatisfactory at the time and so "rewrote" events abit in the write-up to make it fit a bit better.

I remember this session being only somewhat productive and extrememly long.  I think a couple players were asleep at the end and we just woke them up on their turns to roll the dice against the zobmies.

For the combats in the session, the group was already getting pretty mauled by the hobgoblins when the explosion hit.  The fight against the constructs was hard: they had hardness 5(I took animated objects as a base when creating them and threw some other abilities on) and so the "lotus blast" (breath weapon) really saved their bacon.

The zombie fight was a slog, in part due to how late it was(something like midnight when the fight started) and part due to the tight quarters and 3.5e DnD's stand-and-slug-it-out routine, and in part due to the fact that our last DnD campaign (different DM) was in a world where anything killed rose as zombies so the whole deal was old hat.

That's about it that I can think of.  If anyone reading has any questions, feel free to ask.  These actually take quite a bit of time to write up and questions or comments are a welcome diversion.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 4, Part 1

-Note: Played session 27 this weekend.  5 rounds of combat = 5 hours, but at least they got what they were going for-

Suniel saw movement between two nearby hills and stared in its direction intently.  He waited, saw it again, and began jogging down the hill.

He scrambled up to the rocky crown of the next hill and peered down to the other side, hiding amidst the outcroppings.

Below, a small wooden ship sat, floating a few feet off the ground, a crew of what looked like orcs in loose clothing pulling up the sail and scurrying across the deck.  A larger orc in a long red coat walked down the extended gangplank, flanked by two more with cutlasses at the ready.  All the crew wore red here and there - bandannas, caps, strips of cloth bound to their arms or legs.

At the base of the gangplank stood a tall figure in a black robe.  In the figure's hand was a black staff that ended in three prongs.  Floating at the end of the prongs was a black gem the size of a halfling's head that seemed to radiate shadow.

A chill went down Suniel's back and he quickly warded himself from sight.

What was presumably the captain of the strange land-ship stopped at the base of the gangplank with his two bodyguards and began speaking to the figure in the dark robe.  Suniel strained to hear, but was too far away to hear anything but the wind.

They talked for several minutes and Suniel had just about resolved to move closer and find out what was being said when the orc in the crow's nest of the ship let out a cry and tumbled down, striking the deck hard.  Suniel saw a flight of black-shafted arrows rain down, the figure in black spun around raising his staff, and suddenly he and the ship vanished in a massive globe of darkness.

Guttural shouts and cries came from the sphere of dense black mist and moments later the land-ship was out of the darkness and flying across the ground under full sail.  On an impulse he didn't entirely understand, Suniel cast a quickening spell and bounded down the hill after it.  He skirted the edge of the globe of darkness just as five figures materialized out of it, firing arrows after the fleeing ship.

Suniel glanced at them as they rode past him: slender figures in finely made black clothing that had to be elven make, dark cloaks billowing behind them as they rode, faces hidden behind strips of cloth.  They fired arrows rapidly from long black bows as they rode.  Their mounts were reptilian and predatory looking, bipedal with long tails held rigidly behind them, slender forearms tipped in ripping claws.

The ship and the strange elves outpaced Suniel even with his magically enhanced speed and so he slowed to a jog, watching the ship and its pursuers exchange bow and crossbow fire as they wove between the hills.  He was about to give up pursuit entirely when he saw one of the orcs tumble off the ship to land unmoving in the dust.

Breathing heavily, Suniel walked towards the fallen figure to investigate.

***

Harold stood atop the hill and slowly turned, scanning the surrounding hills for some sign of the wizard.  He heard someone climbing up the ladder behind him and glanced back.

The strange monk climbed out and stood beside Harold, yawning.  Harold began to turn back to his search, but the monk placed a hand on his shoulder.  Harold shrugged it off,took a step away, and began to turn towards the monk to rebuke him.

When he turned, an amulet with what seemed to be a diamond the size of an egg dangled on a white metal chain before his face.  Harold took a step back to examine the amulet, but the monk tossed it to him.  He instinctively caught it and stood staring at it.  It felt warm and seemed to shine with light of its own, pulsing and flaring with an inner rhythm.

When he glanced up, the monk was wandering off down the hill, humming.

Ilsa's shield rose from the trapdoor and fell into the dirt and the dwarf pulled herself out a moment later.  Harold quickly put the amulet on and tucked it under his clothing and armor.  Ilsa picked up her shield and glanced from the receding figure of the monk to Harold, a questioning expression on her face.

Harold shrugged.  "Guess he had enough of us.  Won't necessarily miss him."

"An odd creature," Ilsa said.  "Did he say why he left?"

"Did he say why he was here?" Harold said.

Ilsa shrugged and they stood and watched him walk away.

A moment later Ming scrambled out of the ladder shaft, drew her sword, and looked around sharply.

"Looking for something?" Ilsa said, glancing around as well.

"Where's the wizard?" Ming rasped, her expression grim.

"Could someone help me with carry him?" Suniel called from somewhere down the hill, as if on queue.  "I don't want to drag him farther and open his wounds any further."

They walked quickly towards the sound of his voice, Ming running ahead of them.

***

Ming grabbed Suniel by the front of his robe with one hand and put the blade of her sword across his throat with the other.  "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now elf," she rasped.

"Whoa, wait, what's going on?" Ilsa said, placing a hand on Ming's arm.  Harold stood and watched impassively.

Ming shrugged Ilsa's hand off and stared at the suddenly quiet wizard.  "This wizard is a necromancer.  He's just following us for his own dark purposes.  What are you really doing here elf?"

"Where does this accusation come from?" Suniel said quietly.  "That's quite the claim without any proof."

"Proof?  You want proof?" Ming thrust Suniel towards the ladder shaft.  "Let's head back inside and I'll show you the proof."

"What about the orc?  He was a crew-member of a land-ship and is gravely wounded," Suniel said, gesturing behind Ming.

She didn't take her eyes off of the wizard.  "I don't care who or what he is.  Move."

Suniel seemed to be about to protest, but looked Ming in the eye and seemed to change his mind.  The wizard turned and headed back towards the entrance to the outpost and Ming followed closely, the point of her sword close to his back.

***

Ilsa had no idea what was going on and followed along helplessly as Ming guided Suniel back towards the outpost.  She glanced to Harold for aid.  He was following, but didn't even seem to be paying attention to what was going on, rubbing at his chest with a distant look in his eyes.

They climbed back down into the outpost, the corrupt, carnal smell even worse than before.  Suniel began to gesture and opened his mouth, but Ming snarled and pressed the tip of her sword against his back.

"He was try to produce some light," Ilsa said, putting a restraining hand on Ming's.

"Light a torch.  I don't trust this one's magic," Ming replied, not taking her eyes off of Suniel's back.

Ilsa sighed and bent towards her pack, but Harold climbed down the ladder a second later and a drew an arrow.  He concentrated on it for a moment and the tip began to glow.

"To the main area, the execution block," Ming said.

"Hold on a second," Ilsa said.  "If you're going to execute him you at least need-"

"The proof is on the execution block," Ming said coldly.  "Forward elf."

They walked slowly through the outpost and into the carnage of the main barracks.  They gathered around the alcove that contained the execution block and the torso of a dead hobgoblin.  Ilsa glanced around for whatever Ming's proof was, but found nothing.

"It was right here," Ming said, staring at a smear of dried blood on the execution block.

"What was?" Ilsa said, peering at the smear intently.

"Yes Ming, where is this proof of my evil ways?" Suniel said, his voice still soft.

Ming snarled and kicked the block before turning on Suniel.  "It said in blood, right here!  You must have... you used some hidden magic to obscure it as we came down."

"Said what?" Ilsa said, looking at the block.

Ming stared hard at Suniel.  "It said his name, clear as day."

"So, one of the dead - after we killed it again, of course - conveniently wrote my name?"  Suniel said.  "That seems somewhat... unlikely."

"I saw it with my own two eyes, right here!" Ming shouted.

"Let's not waste any more time with this," Harold said.  "It's going to be dark as it is by the time we reach Laketide again.  I have no desire to still be in the hills at dark."

The archer turned walked away, leaving Ming and Suniel staring at each other in the receding light - Ming clenching her jaw in anger, Suniel impassive, Ilsa standing by helplessly.  Finally, Ming spat, sheathed her sword and strode after the light.  Ilsa followed.

She glanced back at Suniel and saw him stare at the smear of blood on the block for a long moment before he too turned and followed.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 4, Part 2

"Wait, a flying ship?" Ilsa said, trying to picture such a thing.  Her spirits were much higher as they walked the road out of the Ragged Hills.

Suniel paused, murmured and a light glowed from his hand.  He shook his head.  "I didn't say a flying ship, I said a land-ship."

Ilsa shifted her grip on the improvised stretcher they had crafted to carry the unconscious orc.  Suniel adjusted his hold on the other end in response.

"What's the difference?" Ilsa said, glancing back at him.

"The ship was floating, but I would think that, with the elves attacking them, if they could have risen into the sky they would have," Suniel said, slowing his pace and leaning forward to check on the orc as they walked.

"So who were they?" Ilsa said, looking back at the orc again.  He wore a loose white shirt, a red scarf tied around one arm and a red stain on his side where the broken-off arrow still stuck out.

Suniel shrugged.  "Maybe they'll know in Laketide. If not, we can get some answers from him when he wakes."

Harold came trotting back from his self-assigned scout position ahead of the group.

"We're pretty much there.  I'll tell the Lieutenant about his men."  He glanced at the orc.  "When he wakes me up, let me know.  Any information he has might be useful."

Without waiting for a reply, Harold turned and jogged off and a moment later Ming strode past, shouldering into Suniel as she passed.

"Ming..." Ilsa said but Suniel shook his head.

"I think the walking dead unmanned her... well, so to speak," Suniel said.  "Maybe she just needs someone to blame her fear on.  It's not uncommon."

"I guess," Ilsa said, watching the huge woman storm off.

A few minutes later they came around a bend between two low hills and they saw the lights of Laketide ahead of them.

"It'll be nice to put this stretcher down," Suniel said.  "These arms are made for carrying books and scrolls, not orcs."

Ilsa smiled and nodded, thinking of how nice it would feel to sit down in front of the fire without her armor on, a cup of ale in hand.

***

The Lieutenant didn't take it like a soldier.  Harold restrained a sigh and watched as the young officer stumbled back into his chair in the barracks, biting his lip to keep back tears.

"They died honorably in battle, if that makes it any better," Harold said.  _Close enough to the truth_, he thought.

Lieutenant Laris nodded and looked up at Harold.  "Thank you, it is good to hear that at least.  The Sergeant taught many of us here everything we know about soldiering.  It's hard to believe that he's gone."

_People die in war, get over it.  How many soldiers of the Crystal Towers do you think have fallen against the Ashen Tower?_ Harold thought.  "Everyone dies some day," he said instead.

"You say it was a hobgoblin ambush?" Laris said.  "There must have been a lot of them if my soldiers died.  All of you returned when you cleaned out the whole outpost the first time..."

"Ah yes, I have news about the outpost too.  But that can wait.  There was an ambush by hobgoblins, but it wasn't how all of them died.  There was also-" Harold said, cut off by the door slamming open and five burly, armed men with greasy black hair stepping in.

"Can I help you-" Laris began, standing up. His men, lounging in their bunks, grumbled as they awoke, took in the situation, and reached for weapons.

One of the men, a towering, ugly, black-bearded man with a brutal looking great axe strapped to his back slammed a sealed sheet of parchment onto Laris' desk.  "Official writ from the Northmand Justicar.  You'll be helping us enact the judgment, Lieutenant," the man said, smirking.

Harold moved behind Laris so he could read the writ as Laris did.  They finished reading at the same time and Laris met Harold's eyes for a moment before turning to the man. 

"It seems official."  He stood up straight and saluted.  "Sir Durgon Kellin, my men and I are at the Justice's service."

As the big man nodded and walked out with his fellows, Laris turned and whispered in Harold's ear.  "I'm assuming I have your cooperation in this?"

Harold nodded.  "The Crystal Towers respects the laws of her friends and allies.  You'll have no interference from me."

***

Suniel pressed the damp cloth against the orc's forehead and murmured in orcish as the orc stirred.  "Be still, the wound won't kill you, but you'll need to conserve your strength."

The orc's eyes opened and met Suniel's. 

"Who are you and where is my ship?  Where am I?" he said.

"I am Suniel Au, elven wizard of the Black Carriage, at your service.  Your ship fled, pursued by black-cloaked figures riding what my books tell me were some form of 'raptors.'  As for where you are, you are in the town of Laketide, in the nation of Northmand.  You are in a loft room above the common hall of the inn."

"Laketide?  Never heard of..." the orc growled, then shifted and winced.  "Those craven dogs, Pyresail would burn the captain alive if he heard of such cowardice.  Fleeing from a handful of riders when we had a full combat crew."

"Pyresail?" Suniel said, pulling up a stool.

The orc looked back at Suniel.  "Am I to be executed?  Tortured?"

Suniel was taken aback.  "No no, I just have some questions.  If you wish to leave you may.  You can do as you will."

"Hmm."  The orc stared at the ceiling for a long moment before looking back at Suniel.  "My name is Guntl Keen-eye, at your service.  The fact that you don't know who Lord Pyresail is tells me how far away I am from Gantry."

"I apologize, I am a stranger to these lands."

"Well, I don't imagine they'll be coming back for me, bloody curs," Guntl said.  "And I'm not about to walk across the Ragged Hills and navigate the Cracks without a ship to get back.  What is this Black Carriage?"

"It's just me... well, and a few recent additions I suppose," Suniel said, thinking of the three goblins and wondering if they'd gotten into any trouble while he was away.  "I travel and sell small magics to the peoples of various civilized lands.  Nothing too grand."

"Sounds perfect.  Are you looking for any additional additions?"

Suniel paused to consider.  He had a good feeling about this Guntl.  He seemed direct, honest.  His wit seemed keen for an orc, the way he took in his situation and came up with a solution without hesitation.  "I suppose I might be.  There's little pay in it, but if you provided whatever services you could, I could supply food, lodging when I have it, travel to all sorts of places."

"I'm good with animals," Guntl said.  "Can do a bit of woodwork, fight a bit if need be, and they don't call me Keen-eye for nothing.  I'm in if you'll have me."

Suniel extended his hand and Guntl took it in a strong grip.  "Welcome to the Black Carriage then.  If I might ask, who is this Lord Pyresail?"

Guntl grunted.  "Pirate Lord Derkaran Pyresail to be exact.  He's the one sits at the top of the main crane-tower, ruling over the rust of Gantry.  As fierce and fiery as that big flaming ruby he carries, and he doesn't hesitate a moment to use it if he feels like it.  He wouldn't be ruling the Pirate Lords without it, but rule 'em he does.  He's a cunning bastard and damn good at what he does, most of the Nomads pay Gantry tribute and a handful of the sorry Cave clans of the Cracks do too..."

There was some commotion downstairs and Guntl paused to listen.  Suniel couldn't catch anything precise, but had a bad feeling about it.

Suniel stood, placing one hand on Guntl's shoulder.  "Rest until you feel well.  I'll have them send up a meal tonight."

Guntl nodded, laid back comfortably in the bed, and Suniel hurried out.

***

Ming slammed the big farmer's hand into the table to a chorus of boos and cheers, stood up and took a huge drought of ale.

"Who's next?" she said, casting a casual glance at the crowd gathered around the table.  "I'll even use my left arm next time."

A dwarf with a gray beard, leathery skin, and a thick leather apron pushed his way through and sat in recently vacated seat opposite her.  She heard someone in the crowd murmur, "she'll never beat Ol' Gorrim Ironwrought," then the crowd erupted into cheers, shouts, and a round of heavy betting.

_Hm, a dwarven smith?  Looks like they pulled him out of his smithy just for me.  They're really getting desperate_, she thought, finishing off her drink, rubbing her hands together, and sitting down with a lopsided grin.  Her hand clasped the dwarf's - it felt like leather-wrapped iron - and she wiggled her fingers a few times to check her grib and was just starting to clench her muscles when the inn door flew open.

She staggered to her feet and stumbled back, trying to remember where she'd left her sword, but several guards grabbed her arms just as she spotted it leaning against the hearth.  For a moment she struggled with them, but there were four of them to her one.  The fight went out of her when she saw who stood in the doorway.

The inn emptied after them as she was dragged outside and pushed to her knees.  She stared up at Durgon Kellin and the four brothers or cousins or both that flanked him.  Durgon's hand's rested on the butt of the greataxe that had belonged to his brother.

Ming stood, shoved two guards back, and tried to push her way through the crowd to get away, but a dozen hands grabbed her and dragged her back. Durgon sneered at her then turned to the crowd.  

"I, Sir Durgon Kellin, am here to claim justice," he shouted and held up a scroll.  "Here I have a writ from the Justicar of Northmand, giving me legal right to claim trial by combat."

He turned to Ming and spat.  

"And you, dog, you will fight me to your death."  He took a few steps forward and grabbed her hair, jerking her close enough that she could smell his foul breath. "Tomorrow I'm going to cut you apart under the eyes of the law.  Thought you could kill a Kellin and get away with it?"

He pushed her away roughly and, as she fell hard to one knee in a daze, Ming saw Suniel talking with Laris and gesturing in her direction, Ilsa standing at the edge of the crowd with a grim look and her hand tight on her sword, Harold watching expressionlessly from his place next to Laris.

Durgon turned to the crowd and bellowed, "this whore is a murdering swine.  The law stands behind me and proclaims me judge.  She killed my brother and tomorrow at dawn I'll prove her guilt by the axe!"


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 4, Part 3

Suniel entered the barracks quietly and walked over to where Ming sat staring into the fire.  He pulled up a stool and sat beside her.

"Not getting any sleep?" Suniel said softly.

Ming grunted.  "If you were going to die at dawn, would you?  You'd probably just raise from the dead again anyway."

Suniel ignored the barb and put a hand on her shoulder.  "Come now, with your skill at arms you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"

"Whatever.  Even if I kill him, what makes you think _another_ brother or cousin or uncle won't just come for me or just send some flunky to slit my throat in my sleep?"  She shrugged his arm off her shoulder.  "I have plenty to worry about."

Suniel paused for a moment.  "Did you murder his brother like he said?"

"Murder?  That bastard deserved what he got.  Kellins are filth masquerading as nobles."

"And that doesn't answer my question," Suniel said softly.

Ming pointed to her sword.  "That isn't my family crest on the pommel - I don't even have a family."

Suniel carefully picked up the sword from where it leaned against the wall and inspected the well-worn pommel in the firelight.  It had what looked like a two-headed dog embossed on it.  He put it back and stood.  "Well, get some sleep.  You'll need all your strength tomorrow.  We all carry secrets that sometimes find their way into the light, I wish you luck with yours."

Suniel stood, but as he started to walk away, she said his name softly and he stopped.

She reached to her neck, pulled a silver chain he hadn't noticed before from beneath the collar of the padding she wore under her armor, and handed it to Suniel.  The chain itself was nothing spectacular, but attached to the end of it was what looked like an oblong piece of hematite, smooth and silvery.  At its touch, the air seemed to take on that charged feeling in the air right before a thunderstorm.

"Where did you get it?" he said, turning it over in his hands.

"I went back and took it off my parent's bodies after they died," she said.  "You know what it is?"

He shook his head as he handed it back to her.  "There's definitely magic in it though."

She held it for a moment before putting it back on, hiding it again beneath her armor.  A grim half-smile settled on her lips and she glanced at him.  "Tell you what, if I die, you can take it and figure out what it is."

The smile quickly faded and turned to stare back into the fire.

Quietly, Suniel turned and left.

***

By the time dawn came, a dozen plans to spring Ming from the barracks where she was being held until her "trial" formed and dissolved.  Ilsa wanted to free her comrade, but the guards were innocent and she wasn't sure some of them wouldn't be killed in the process. So, instead, she stood in the crowd that ringed where Ming, Laris, and Durgon Kellin stood.  Laris squinted at the first light and nodded.  

"It is dawn," he said loudly.  "If Ming is guilty of the charges may she find justice.  If Sir Kellin's charges are false, let him pay the price for bearing false witness."

He turned and walked to the edge of the ring.  Ming popped her neck and gripped her sword a few times while Durgon tapped the flat of his axe against his boots and then spat.

"None shall leave the ring until one of you is dead.  None shall interfere on pain of death," Laris said.  "Let the combat begin."

Ilsa disregarded Laris's last warning.  With a moment of concentration, she invoked the power of the dragon scale, shifting to a new position in the crowd so she could be sure that Ming was in the minor protective warding of her totem.  If she couldn't help directly...

***

Ming circled the big man warily, wishing she hadn't had so much to drink the night before.  Her head was pounding and her gut churned.

She was big, but he was even bigger and that axe was wicked.  _I need to catch him off guard_, she thought, _if I just-_

He lunged in suddenly and she jerked sideways just in time, the axe missing her head and scraping across her armor.  She spun away, swinging wildly.  He ducked it easily and charged again.

She stepped forward to catch the haft of his axe on her shoulder and brought the pommel of her sword into his face, sending him reeling back.  The tip of his axe caught on her shoulder as he stumbled away and pulled her off-balance towards him as well before slipping free and slicing the back of her neck and her cheek.

They circled again, his chin bleeding freely and her neck burning, warm blood running down her back.  She stepped in and brought her sword down, but he dropped low and chopped towards her legs.  She lurched heavily to the side in a clumsy leap over the axe, the flat of her blade clanging off of his breastplate as she landed heavily on her back in the dirt.

He swung immediately and she rolled out of the way, the axe sinking into the sandy dirt a foot from her head.  She staggered back to her feet, but he was already on her, slamming his knee into her chin.  Something popped in her jaw and her vision blurred, but she managed to recover as he charged her again, axe held high.  She launched forwards, body-slamming into him and driving him backwards, swinging awkwardly with one hand as she did so.

Her blade scraped metal and bit through chain on his side.  He cursed and grabbed her hair with a gantleted fist, jerking her off to the side and clubbing her in the side of the head with the haft of his axe repeatedly.

She snarled and jerked her head away, ignoring the pain as a clump of silver hair ripped from her head, and drove her elbow into his throat.  He stumbled away gasping for air but somehow had the presence of mind to swing his axe down as he did so.

There was an explosion of agony as it buried into her foot.  She screamed in pain and rage, grabbed her sword like a spear and drove it into his gut.  It scraped off his breastplate, deflecting down and piercing into his leg, his axe ripping out of her foot as he fell to one knee, the whitewashed delirium of pain it unleashed toppling Ming.

She saw his fist close on a handful of sand and she lunged forwards, slamming the heavy boot of her good foot onto his hand with all her might.  There was a _crunch_ as her foot slammed onto his hand and he screamed.  Blood flew from her other foot as it connected with his face hard enough that his head jerked back and the axe flew from his hand.  He knelt there, staring up at her, dazed and bloody, hand still pinned beneath Ming's boot.

"Meet your brother in hell, you bastard," she said, as she swung with all her might.  Her blade came down on the center of his forehead and the crowd recoiled from the explosion of blood, brain, and bone.

As she stepped away, she distantly saw Suniel nod to her from the crowd with a faint smile, heard Laris pronouncing her innocence, tasted blood and dust, and felt Ilsa grab her as the world spun and she landed heavily in the sand.

***

Harold pushed his way out of the press of the crowd before Durgon's body had even hit the sand and gazed out into the Ragged Hills as he walked along the shore of the lake.  _The gains of wiping out that outpost were negated by the hobgoblin ambush_, he thought.  _I need to do more to prove the Crystal Tower's worthiness as allies._

As the furor began to die down back in the village, he thought of the first night there, the raft attack, suddenly halting as something came to him.  _A raft of that size and construction would need a pretty sizable group to build it.  If we could wipe out something like _that_..._

He turned and began walking quickly back to the village.  _Once Ming recovers, the rest will come along as well_, he thought.  _We made short work of the outpost, so we shouldn't have a problem with some raft camp_.  By the time he reached the village again, he had a rough plan in his head.

He glanced back towards the Ragged Hills one last time, slowed, then stopped, squinting in the golden early-morning light.

Riding towards the village were five dark figures, riding strange reptilian beasts the like of which Harold had never seen.  Harold watched them for a moment longer, then jogged off to tell the others.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 4, Part 4

-Note: I wrote up most of the last part of the session almost a week ago, then accidentally closed the browser window.  Few things more frustrating than working on something for an hour-and-a-half and then having to sit down and redo it.  Hence the no write-up for the week.-

The five elves were subdued as they ate, their exhaustion obvious.  That didn't stop Harold from boldly walking up and taking a seat at their table in the deserted mid-morning tavern.

"Greetings, from where do you hail from?" Harold said in elven.

There was a long silence as the elves looked at each other and the intruder on their privacy.  Suniel walked towards the table and was about to say something when one of them finally spoke.

"We hail from far to the south, likely beyond your ken," the elf said.  "If you'll excuse us, we have traveled a long way in pursuit of our quarry and lost many on the way.  We are simply here to eat and rest before the long journey home."

"Quarry?" Harold said.

Suniel walked to the end of the table and bowed.  "I'm sorry my companion is bothering you, we are sorry for your losses and wish you a safe journey."  

He nudged Harold with his foot and got an annoyed look in response, which he ignored.  "If there is anything me or my companions can do for you, we are yours under the Tree."

He began to back away, but Harold wasn't getting up.  Instead, the archer opened his mouth again.  "I am from the south as well, from the Crystal Towers.  I'm sure you've heard of us.  If there is anything the Crystal Towers can do for our elven friends, we are at your service."

The elves exchanged another inscrutable glance and the same one that had spoken before spoke again.  "Perhaps there is something you could do.  One of our companions' mount was injured in our pursuit.  Wild with its pain, it carried him off into the hills and we have not been able to find him.  Our mounts are even more worn than we are and we fear it will be-"

"Done," Harold said and shook the startled elf's hand.  "We'll find him and bring him back safely."

Suniel realized his mouth was agape, mirroring the elves at the table.  Suniel shook his head and smiled slightly.  _These are not used to the abrupt hastiness of humans_, he thought.  _Then again, I'm not sure I am, even after all these years._

He bowed to the table as Harold walked out, then followed.

***

"Wait, where are we going again?" Ming said after a couple hours of near-silence, squinting in the July sunlight as they walked through the Ragged Hills.  "Why don't I have time to get my boot fixed?"

"It speaks!  Last time I tried to talk to you, I thought you were going to bite my head off,"  Ilsa said.  She stared at huge woman's boot and chuckled again.  A couple loops of twine were all that held it around Ming's still-bandaged foot.  

"You were the one who wouldn't stay behind to finish healing when we went out," she said.  "Hey, maybe axe-split boots will go into style while we're gone."

"Ha ha," Ming said, glancing back at the dusty hills - roughly the direction of Laketide - and rubbing at the raw bald spot on her head.  "You were the one that told me what Laris said after I killed that Kellin pig."

"More like a wild boar than a pig," Ilsa said.  "Pigs are more civilized."

"What did Laris say?" Suniel said, adjusting his robe for the long walk ahead.

"He said that the Kellins were a large family and, if the using the law didn't work for them, they were just as likely to work without it," Ilsa said.  She looked ahead towards where Harold walked a hundred yards ahead of them.  "Is he going to get us lost again?"

Ming grunted.  "I don't think he can since we don't have a destination.  We're just looking for... what are we looking for again?"

"An elf on a 'raptor.'" Suniel said.

"Lizard, not bird," Ilsa said.

"I'm not _that_ stupid, I heard Suniel describe them before," Ming said.  She looked ahead at Harold as well.  "He can keep us lost in the hills for a couple days for all I care, maybe the Kellins will lose my scent."

Ilsa leaned close, sniffed her, and wrinkled her nose.  "Not likely," the dwarf said and stepped quickly out of Ming's reach.

"Harold's stopped and is motioning to us," Suniel said, quickening his pace.  "He might have found something."

"Probably another ambush," Ilsa said, half under her breath.

Ming grunted.

***

Harold searched the area again, looking for any sign of the distinctive three-clawed tracks.  A moment later the others arrived, quickly took in the situation, and plopped in the shade of a large dead tree nearby, pulling out waterskins.

"I think we're close," Harold said.  "Just give me a minute to find the tracks again."

"You said we were close two hours ago when you first spotted the tracks," Ming said and emptied half her waterskin in a few huge gulps.

"I said I thought we were close, now I really think we're close," Harold said, looking back to the dried creek-bed.  He searched around for several more minutes, frustration mounting.  "It's tracks couldn't have just disappeared here."

"Maybe the elf was riding a giant bird after all and just flew off," Ilsa said.

"Maybe you just breached some form of elven etiquette and they sent us out on a wild raptor chase as revenge," Ming said.  Harold glared over at her and saw her glance in turn to Suniel.  The elf shrugged.

"Well, I'm all for taking a little early-afternoon siesta in the shade of this here tree," Ilsa said.  "Maybe some time after-"

She cut off in mid-sentence as a high-pitched shriek echoed through the hills.  A moment later everyone was on their feet and running along the creek-bed towards the source of the sound.

***

Ming winced as she ran, her still-injured foot shooting spears of pain up her leg.  She was the last one into the wide, dead-end gully.

At its center an elf with a drawn sword and empty quiver stood next to the body of a mottled black lizard that lay in a pool of blood.  Around them were three giant six-legged creatures, their bodies covered with reddish chitin, their mandibles huge, jagged, and drizzling green slime.

Harold wasted no time putting two arrows into the nearest of the creatures and Suniel summoned and hurled a ball of fire at it.  Ilsa ran ahead with a dwarven warcry and Ming followed into the fray close behind the dwarf.

They paired up against another of the creatures, Ilsa circling around one side and Ming around to the other.  It reared up and bit into Ilsa's shield several times, leaving smoking pits in the heavy wood.  Ming leapt into the air and brought her sword down on its back, slicing through the hard chitin and into the yellowish goop inside.  It sprayed out in a gout, nearly blinding her and gagging her with its acrid stink.

The thing wheeled about, swept Ming's feet out from underneath her and bit, its mandibles crunching into her breastplate.  It clomped on her several times as she battered at it with the pommel of her sword until it reared up and jerked the other way again to face another of its attackers.  Ming wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood, seeing the thing - one leg severed at about dwarf-height - pressing Ilsa back against a rock and struggling to pull the dwarf's shield away with three of its good legs, mandibles wide and ready as the shield was slowly forced down.

Ming slammed hard into the thing, causing the wound gape open, and drove her sword into the creature with all her might.  It sank in into the hilt and she felt it punch out the other side.  The creature thrashed and arched back on Ming as she tried to pull her sword free.  With a jerk, it came lose and she staggered back, just as the creature's mandibles clicked rapidly, snapped open, and a green sticky glob shot straight at Ming's head.

She turned her head away and raised her arm reflexively.  The sticky mass splattered all over her, from head to toe, and saturated her long glove.  For a second she was merely disgusted, then her body registered the pain as the glob eating through her glove and seeping through her chain reached skin and her arm exploded with pain.

***

Harold put an arrow into the last one and walked right up next to it as it thrashed, burying an arrow into its head at point-blank range.  It stopped thrashing and lay there twitching.  Harold grunted, glanced at the bite marks in his tunic, and downed a potion.  A moment later the pain was gone, though he'd still need to get his uniform washed and mended again when he went back to town.

He glanced over to the first one that Suniel had pretty much blown apart.  The wizard squatted next to it, spreading out his hand to measure its mandibles and jotting down notes on a scrap of something, apparently oblivious to the bite-wounds in his arm.

Ilsa was helping a smoldering Ming to her feet and throwing dirt on the spots that still smoked.  

The foreign elf was leaning heavily against his dead mount, arm clutched against his body.  Harold walked over and saluted.

"The Crystal Towers sends its regards, friend.  We thought-"

The elf raised one hand to Harold's mouth as he sheathed his sword with the other.  

"This is some sort of colony that I've stumbled on to," he whispered in elven, motioning a dozen large burrow holes in the hills surrounding the gully.  "I'd suggest you save the pleasantries until we are safely away."

Although annoyed at being cut off, Harold nodded.  He motioned for Ilsa and Ming to head back down the stream bed and pulled Suniel to his feet.  Suniel had the tips of two of the thing's feelers on his pointer fingers and wiggled them at Harold with an impish smile.  Harold just glared at him until the wizard shrugged and walked off, still playing with his strange acquisitions.

When he turned, the other elf had a hand on the dead raptor's neck, eyes closed.

 "Good bye old friend, may I find another your like when we return to the Black," he murmured in elven, his voice so low Harold had to strain to hear him.

Then he opened his eyes, nodded to Harold, and they walked quickly out of the gully.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 4, Part 5

-Note: played session 29 last night.  Probably in the top few sessions of the game.  Someday I'll actually get there with this narrative too...-

"His name in our tongue is Thessalock, though he is also known by other names.  The Keeper of the Shadow Council and Ganderon the Ashen to name a few.  The Crystal Towers has other, less polite names for him," Captain Dellaun, the leader of the Elves said in accented common, with a faint smile for Harold.

Harold snarled and spat on the floor.

Ilsa blinked a few times at Harold's uncharacteristic behavior and noticed that Suniel was sitting alone, staring into fire as the rest of them sat at the long center table of the inn and talked with the band of Black Rangers.

"Our order was set in place to keep the... _things_ of the Black in, not to keep other things out.  The Black is usually its own deterrent.  But when one of us found that the Unstone had been taken from the Ironhenge in the depths of the Black, I rode to the Council of the One Tree with full haste.  I met at their gathering place at the Emeraldhenge, near the colossal trunk of the One Tree, and told them of what had occurred.  A day later, three score of us rode out from the Forest of the One Tree, pursuing him," Dellaun paused and took a deep drink.  The gathered elves looked down at their meals, sorrow etched into their faces.

Ilsa took a deep drink herself and noticed that Harold had pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill out of somewhere and was taking notes.  It seemed vaguely disrespectful to Ilsa, but the elves seemed too caught up in Dellaun's story to notice,  Ming seemed to be equally engaged in getting drunk as quickly as possible and trying to adjust the wrappings over the acid burns on her arm, still wearing the ill-fitting breastplate she insisted on wearing at all times in case the Kellins came back.  Suniel looked to be off in his own world.

Dellaun sighed deeply and continued.  "We hoped that whoever or whatever had taken it wouldn't know how the Unstone worked, hoped that we could catch him before he learned.  We knew that whatever had been able to pass our wards and watchful eyes and survive the dark things that roam twisted tangle of The Black was powerful, but we had no idea it that we faced Thessalock."  

He spat the name like a curse and some of the other elves murmured angrily in chorus, eyes dark.

"We almost had him early on, sitting alone at his camp studying the Unstone.  We ambushed him, hitting him with everything we had.  Six of us died the instant we attacked and three more fell before he escaped."  He paused as look of deep weariness overcame him.  His voice was tired when he spoke again.  

"I won't go into the ambushes and battles we had across half the continent pursuing him, the entire villages that he wiped out and rose as the dead in the hopes of delaying us, the foul magics he used, the black power of the Unstone he wielded, the horrible twisted things that he called upon from forbidden places to hinder our progress.  Every death left us weaker but more determined to kill him, vowing on the broken bodies of our friends and companions that he would taste vengeance."

He blinked rapidly and took another drink, as if hiding tears.  "And now we have lost him and turn home in defeat, dozens of elven and hundreds of other lives paid for naught."

Harold finished scribbling and looked up as if he were going to ask a question, but Ilsa quickly stood and walked forward.  "We are sorry for your loss, it would be rude of us to trouble you with these memories any more than we already have."

Harold shot a dark look at her but stood and faced the six Black rangers.  He adjusted his uniform and cleared his throat.  

"I, as Honor Guard of the Crystal Towers, pledge that we will avenge your fallen countrymen," he said, voice proud, body erect.  "They say the foe of my foe is my ally and so I call you allies of the Crystal Towers.  Perhaps together our people might bring down Thessalock and his Ashen Tower, end his dark tyranny and destruction."

Dellaun looked long and hard at Harold, as if trying to decide something, and then nodded.


The Ranger Captain stood up and looked as though he were going to say something formal and profound, but before he could, Ming stood, her bench scraping loudly on the stone floor, then belched and popped her back with a groan. "Excuse me from all the long winded sob stories and ass-kissing. I need to race like a piss horse. Or, piss like a, well, whatever, you know what I mean."


She staggered out, swaying heavily and colliding with the door frame with a loud string of curses.  Ilsa thought maybe it was a good thing Ming was insisted on wearing her armor; Harold's glare at her back looked like it could cut flesh.

***

Harold turned his glare on the dwarf.  Ilsa smiled innocently at him, raised her ale mug to him, and picked at the chicken on her trencher.

Ming had ruined another opportunity; the elves were all rising now, speaking amongst themselves of rest.  He quickly decided to ask his favor for rescuing their companion in the morning, when they were fresh and not lost in the grim memories of their journey - and when there would be no interference from the others.

After the elves said their polite 'good nights,' Harold joined Suniel where the elf still sat by the fire.

"You hear all of that from over here?" he said, glancing back for a moment to see the last black elven cloak disappear into the night.

The wizard nodded, not taking his eyes off the fire, fingers steepled in front of his mouth.

"Well, what do you think?" Harold said.

Suniel sat quietly, unresponsive.  Harold was about to ask again when he spoke.  "I think the ignorant may be the blessed."

"Right, so what does _that_ mean?" Harold said.

"It means most of the world is darker than the night outside the door this tavern and civilization is like a hut on the edge of a black sea filled with prowling things that snatch the unwary off the shore."

Harold wondered at Suniel's dark mood, thinking for a long moment before he replied.  "Then the Crystal Towers is a lighthouse standing proud and shining her light to drive the dark things away.  Have you seen the Crystal Towers, wizard?"

Suniel shook his head as he tossed another log onto the fire.

"The four smaller Towers rise high over the land, the crystals floating at the apex of each glittering in the sunlight.  Everywhere in the land at least one of them is visible - alight even at night with their own inner glow that all can see, ever-present beacons of hope.  And the main city, the clean, cobbled streets of the Capitol stretching in all directions from the base of _the_ Crystal Tower..." he paused, thinking of home, a feeling of pride stirring in his chest.  

"The Tower stretches into the skies, made of an ancient silvery metal we call silversteel that's harder than steel, stronger than magic.  I've been to the top of the tower once, so high that the air is thin and chill, but from its mighty height you can see the entire nation on a clear day as it was when I was there: from the four other Towers to where the cliffs drop to the Endless Sands, to the two gleaming Spires that guard the sides of the Span - an almost unimaginably huge bridge of silversteel, so wide that we have entire cities, forests, farms, and rivers on it, three hundred miles long, connecting the land of the Crystal Towers to the mainland..."

"The Crystal Towers is Felskein's lighthouse and I will do anything, _anything_ to keep its light shining," he said.

They sat in silence then, Suniel's gaze lost in the fire, Harold lost in longing thoughts and proud memories of the land that had raised him, that  had trained him, that he fought for - that he would die for.

***

Ming came back to find the tavern almost deserted.  Only Ilsa, snoring on the bench near the long window that looked out onto Mirror Lake, and Suniel, still sitting by the fire, remained.

She stole the last of Ilsa's uneaten chicken from her trencher and sat down next to Suniel.

"What's eating you?" she said around a mouthful of cold, greasy meat.

Suniel sighed and put on half a smile as turned to her.  "Oh, just some goblin trouble.  I had to rescue No Tongue from a pair of farm dogs that had him stuck up a tree all night and pay the farmer an exorbitant amount for two stolen chickens and a pie.  I'm sure Stabber did it, but he blames No Tongue and Lunt is too stupid to even understand what we're talking about.  Nothing overly important, just vexing after a long day."

Suniel's story had a poorly-feigned lightness to it and Suniel's eyes were far away, looking past Ming rather than at her.  Ming raised an eyebrow.  "Well, I think you just opened your mouth and dropped a load of cow paddies, but I don't have a problem with that.  If you don't want to tell me what's bothering you, that's your deal."

She took another big bite of chicken and winced as the wrappings on her arm shifted under her armor. 

The elf looked surprised and his eyes focused on hers for the first time.  He looked at Ming for a while like he was about to say something.  _Gods, I hope he isn't going to tell me_ his _sob story now too_, she thought.  _I'm not drunk enough for another one tonight._

A solemn look came across his face and he opened his mouth, but Ming stuck a small chicken wing in it before he could speak  and stood.  

"I said I don't have a problem with you not telling me and I meant it," she said, scratching the spot on her head where the hair was just starting to grow back in as the startled wizard pulled the chicken wing from his mouth and blinked at it.  "Besides I'm tired and my arm burns like hell.  I'm going to go take a bath in the lake and pass out.  Night."

She walked away, swiping the sleeping dwarf's half-full tankard as she passed, leaving Suniel staring at her back.

***

Suniel tossed the chicken wing into the fire and smiled.  Ming had actually helped a bit, in her own way.  Hard to take yourself seriously when you open your mouth to bare your heart and end up getting a mouthful of cold, greasy, half-eaten chicken in it instead.  He stood and stretched, checking on Ilsa before he headed out.

The goblins were all asleep in the boxes he had built for them and attached to the back of his carriage.  No Tongue was muttering "master" over and over in his sleep, fingers twitching.  Suniel suppressed a shudder at what might be going on in the simple goblin's mind, but felt his smile get a little bigger.

His carriage horses nickered when he went into the stable and he dug around in the many hidden pockets of his robe until he found some dried carrot for them.  After a moment of scrounging in the dark he found a curry comb and went over the big animals, enjoying their smell and their warmth and their comforting bulk.  By the time he left the stables, he was almost content.

As he went to the door to his carriage, to record, catalog, and journal the creatures they'd fought earlier, he glanced out at the moon reflecting off the water.  

Ming bathed in the lake, washing her hair with a delicacy that belied her rough nature.  Without her armor and brusque facade on, she was almost beautiful.

As he looked, a memory from long ago swelled until he no longer saw Ming, instead the one who had saved him, who had given him hope and made everything seem possible, the one whose loss had left him a broken wanderer for... years?  Decades?  How long had it been?

A loud snore from Lunt's box pulled him away from his memory.  He took a deep breath, a final glance out at the lake, and stepped into the carriage and its smell of paper, ink, and magic.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 4 Crunch

As I said in the Session 3 Crunch post, Suniel wasn't actually there for most of Session 3.  The events with the land pirates, Black Rangers, and the dark figure all happened as he reached the outpost at the beginning of this session.

As for the elves on raptors, I already had robot ninja assassins with laser-beam eyes in the campaign, so I figured that elves on dinosaurs wouldn't be much of a stretch.  My players didn't even blink at it.  You can tell they are long time DnD veterans.  Takes _alot_ to faze them.  I figured, _hell, this is DnD, it's supposed to be fantastic_.

As long as it's not super-fantastic all the time, then it's just silly.  At least that's my take.  YMMV.

Throughout the campaign, Suniel has been a stray-catcher.  He just accrues this ever-growing collection of varied misfits.  I had no idea what they were going to do with Guntl, but, seeing how Suniel's player was content to let "background NPCs" stay "background" and not throw them in as fodder in every battle until they die catching arrows, I had no problem having him join the Black Carriage.

The Battle with Durgon Kellin was about as brutal as written.  Took something like 8 tense rounds.  I think Ming had 1 hp left at the end of the fight.  I may not remember correctly, but I think she critted on her final blow.

I decided when I was planning and running this game that I was going to let things grow in scale at their own pace.  I also decided that I was going to drop (sometimes litterally) various snippets of the larger world on the PCs, so that it wouldn't feel like "well, we're level 10 now and hey, look, epic plot stuff we've never heard about just showed up!"  I wanted hints and rumors of the larger world to trickle in so that when they finally decided to go to Gantry or the Crystal Towers or the One Tree, or wherever, it wouldn't feel like they had just "levelled up and zoned" or whatnot.

I've been pretty pleased with it.  It has the added benefit of making places that are mysterious seem mysterious, since they've heard of most of the places they go quite some time before they actually go there most of the time.  If they haven't heard of some place, it actually helps give the place a sense of mystery and wonder.  At least I think so - hard to tell for sure from the other side of the table.

I have in my notes that Ming's horse died in the elf-rescue mission, but I don't remember where or when or who had horses, so I just ignored it.  When writing after-session notes, it's hard to tell what will be important later.  Especially when you start writing a narrative of it 25 sessions later on a whim.  Wonder how many little details I've forgotten, reimagined, or changed for the flow of narrative.  The meat is there, but the rest of the meal is made up.  

If this was non-fiction, it'd be historical fiction rather than history.  Well, and we'd be dealing with robot ninja assassins with laser beam eyes and elven dinosaur riders.  Though I'll bet alot of our history is like this anyway.  "History is written by the victors" and all that.

This was a pretty RP heavy session - only two short fights(though one was pretty plot significant).  What that usually means in my group is the next session, it's time to go find something to kill.

As such, the body count in Session 5 was, well, you'll see.  Steep.


----------



## Sanzuo

Iron Sky said:
			
		

> I have in my notes that Ming's horse died in the elf-rescue mission, but I don't remember where or when or who had horses, so I just ignored it.




I think most of our horses got killed by ankhegs.  They used their frigging bite attack and dragged them into their holes.  And when I think about it... I think Ming and Ilsa got dragged into ankheg holes a once or twice.


----------



## Iron Sky

Negative on the horse thing for this fight, that's in the later ankheg adventures.  I have _that_ horse bit written down at least.  So, spoiler alert for anyone reading this, the party fights more ankhegs later.


----------



## Sanzuo

Have you thought about listing this thread in the stickied Story Hours Index? Might be a good idea.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 5, Part 1

-Note: Played session 30 last night.  I can sum up a large piece of the session with these tiny exerpts:

Excerpt 1:


Spoiler



*Pre-established attack word if diplomacy goes wrong = "banana."
Player 1: "We brought you this banana."
Bad guy: "What's a banana?"
Bad guy dies horribly.
Player 2(Sanzuo ^^): "What's a banana?"



Excerpt 2:


Spoiler



Player 3: "My stuff got ganked."
Player 2: "No, your stuff got kyped.  You got ganked."



Sub-note: How do you do the Show/Hide thingies?  I thought it was via [/spoiler] but I guess not.-


"All right, Mister Secretive, don't tell us what you spent the last two days doing out in the Hills with the elves," Ming said with an exaggerated shrug and leaned back against the table.  "I don't actually care, I was trying to be polite."

"You? Polite?" Ilsa said, with a mock expression of shock.  "Suniel, quick, pinch me.  Am I awake?"

Ming elbowed Ilsa, but smiled.  Harold didn't answer Ming, as expected.  Instead, he said, "we have another mission."

"This one straight from the King of the Crystal Towers?" Ming said with a crude attempt at a curtsy that made Ilsa burst out in guffaws.  "You know I'm at the Crystal Towers' service, always."

"Crystal Towers is a republic, we have no king - not that I'd expect you to understand something like that," Harold said flatly.  "No, when I was out with the elves, we spotted fires.  Many fires.  If we leave tomorrow, I think I can lead us to the camp where the Iron Tribes are making their rafts."

"More accurately, lead us to an ambush where the Iron Tribes are making their rafts," Ming said.

Harold ignored her, speaking to Suniel.  "We could do much good for the people of Northmand."  His gaze turned to Ilsa.  "I'm sure the Council prefer allies who prove themselves worthy."  To Ming.  "And there's probably a lot of them.  That means a lot of ears which means-"

"I know what it means, archer-boy.  You sure know how to sweet talk a lady," she stood up and one hand moved towards Harolds crotch.  He stepped out of reach quickly.

Ming laughed and walked to the bar for another tankard.  If they were going to head out tomorrow, she was going to get good and drunk tonight.

***

It was getting dark and Ilsa could tell Ming was getting crotchety.  Well, more crotchety.  Hiking with a companion that complained for the first half of the day about how early it was and about her hang over and the other half about how late it was getting and that there wasn't any alcohol was rapidly ceasing to be entertaining.

"Quiet," Harold said, dropping to one knee and nocking an arrow.

Ming rolled her eyes and spoke loudly.  "Oh, the great scout has finally shown us the way to our foes, praise the-"

"Shhh," Suniel said, dropping to a crouch as well.

Ming looked as mollified as Ilsa had ever seen her and dropped to a crouch as well, her greatsword scraping from its ring on her back.

Ilsa readied her shield and drew her sword.  In the light of the rapidly setting sun, she saw faint smoke trails drifting up from over the next hill, smelled a faint hint of tar on the wind, and heard distant voices shouting and cursing.

In goblin.

***

Suvok snorted and backhanded the chief poleman.  "I said the raft should hold thirty or forty, like the last one. This one barely floats with ten on it."

He pointed to the raft that sat half-submerged in the alcove.  The greasy tar-splotched hobgoblin that had replaced the last poleman cringed.  "I'll do better Suvok, just give me another week."

Suvok kicked him in the chest, drew his sword, and stood over the fallen hobgoblin.  "I should gut you like that sniveling runt you replaced.  You have until Sub-chief Thoslar gets back."

The poleman's eyes grew huge.  "But, but, Thoslar is supposed to be back-"

Suvok kicked him again and buried his sword in a log a foot from his head.  "You heard me."

"Wait," the polemain said, half sitting, "I thought I heard-"

Suvok snarled, buried his sword in the hobgoblin's throat, wrenched it free, and watched the poleman writhe and thrash.  Then he heard a horn from the lookouts on the top of the hill.

He glanced up to see one of his scouts tumbling down the hill, two arrows buried in his chest, then glanced back at the dying poleman.  He turned to Sergeant Shodfeet and shrugged.  

"You heard him, I guess he thought he heard something.  Take the archers up, I'll send the rest up shortly, along with the beasts."

Shodfeet nodded and set off at a jog through the raft camp, shouting orders and pointing up the hill with his sword.  Suvok stepped into his dug-out dwelling and grabbed his bow and quiver.  _A little battle is just what I need_, he thought with a grin and headed quickly towards the pens.

***

When he got to the top of the hill, two-thirds of the workers and half his troops were already dead and there were sounds of fighting from the outcropping they'd named The Outlook.  He stepped into the shelter of another rusty outcropping and found Shodfeet slumped against it, his leg and lower torso blackened, smoking, and smelling like cooked meat, an arrow sprouting from his shoulder.

"Situation, Sergeant!" he said, leaning slightly out from the outcropping, looking for the enemy.

Shodfoot gasped and wheezed.  "Mage... to the left... swarms of bats.  Archers... no, just one archer... right.  Dwarf... berserk woman... Outlook.  Killing everyone..."

Shodfoot took another rasping breath and slumped down for good.

Suvok watched two of his archers at another outcropping thirty feet away.  They leaned out and fired their arrows down the hill, ducked back behind the outcropping, and leaned out again.  One took an arrow in to forehead and flew backwards.  The other cursed and fired wildly before ducking back again.

Suvok traced the direction the arrow had come from and aimed at a likely outcropping.  He didn't have to wait long.  A figure in dusty blue leaned out to take a shot and Suvok loosed.  He wasn't sure where he hit, but the figure below disappeared from sight behind its outcropping.  Suvok smiled.

His smile widened to a ferocious grin when he heard a bellowing roar, quickly followed by the Dire Apes he'd loosed thundering over the hill, the lashes he'd given them having driven them into a rage.  As soon as they crested the hill, no more than fifteen feet from his hiding place, one of them was thrown backwards in a sudden explosion, filling the air with cries of rage and pain and the stink of burning fur.

It staggered to its feet and charged after the other, arrow after arrow thudding into them as they ran.  Suvok glanced down the hill and saw that the enemy archer was firing as he ran towards a small clump of trees at the base of the hill where Suvok thought he saw a horse.  Suvok fired another arrow, but then the beasts were between him and the archer, blocking his shot.

He shifted position to the other side of the outcropping, with a view of the Outlook.  The fighting seemed to have died down and all was silent there.  A brief surge of unaccustomed fear surged through him as he scanned the hill ridge and the camp, accompaniment to the realization that he was probably the only one still alive.

Then a huge woman covered in dust, blood, and armor stepped out around the outcropping and buried her sword in his head.

***

Thoslar roared at the oarsman again as he watched the battle.  "Faster, faster you fools!"

From his spot on the raised platform at the back of the giant, walled raft, he saw the blue figure on horseback bring down the other Ape as well, trotting circles around it and putting a few extra arrows into it to be sure.  Atop the hill, he saw two armored figures throw the body of a huge hobgoblin that had to be Suvok down the hill.

"Faster, ready the ballistas!  Pole to the shore.  Ballistas, take out that horseman.  Everyone else, up the hill.  Send the beasts up to tear them apart.  Kill them all!"

Thoslar jumped down from the platform and pushed his way to the front of the raft, next to the drop-wall held loosely in place by ropes.  The ballista crews loaded their weapons and checked them.

It seemed to take forever until the raft scraped across gravel.  

"Now!" he shouted. 

Two hobgoblins chopped the ropes and the drop-wall fell.  Thoslar leapt into the water with a roar, a war chant surging from the throats of thirty hobgoblins behind him as they followed.  He saw a ballista shot fly, far over the horseman's head.  Arrows thudded into the hobgoblins behind him and one of the beasts roared in pain.

He had just reached land and glanced back when the other ballista creaked like a tree falling and exploded, wooden splinters flying in all directions, mutilating its crew and dropping half-a-dozen around it.  _Shoddy human craftsmanship_, Thoslar thought.  _After we kill these invaders, I'm going to find those human traders and have them tortured to death._

He waited for the main body of his hobgoblins to form up around him and they double-timed up the hill, the beast-keepers struggling to keep the Apes from pulling loose and going after the horse-archer that had shifted his focus to them.  Two of the Apes already had half-a-dozen arrows protruding from their leather barding and were bleeding heavily.

Dust kicked up as they stormed up the hill.  One of the beasts took an arrow in the neck and went down, his troops leaping clear of its death-throes.  They reached the Outlook and he sent half around one side, half around the other.  He took the ones going left and barely ducked in time to avoid being decapitated by a huge sword blade that buried in the hobgoblin next to him.

"Kill her!" he roared as she stepped back into the cover of the outcropping.  He glanced back as his troops surged after her, saw another Ape go down, dead before it hit the dirt, a dozen arrows sticking from it.  Half-a-dozen of his troops were dead when he got around the Outlook, their bodies heaped about the feet of the woman and a dwarf with a huge battered and pitted wooden shield.

With a roar, the woman cut another down and suddenly an elf in dirty brown robes appeared next to her.  An arrow flew past Tholsar from behind and dropped one of his sergeants instantly.  The dwarf hacked and stabbed, grunting as a mace came down on her shoulder.

The elf chanted something and a rope dropped from nowhere.  Thoslar's troops backed away superstitiously and the woman took the opportunity to run another through.

"Kill them, kill them, kill them!" Thoslar roared, lunging forward through a gap in the press of troops surrounding the human, dwarf, and elf.  His sword caught the woman in the side as she tried to pull her sword free from the trooper she had run through and she went down.

The elf scrambled up the rope and disappeared, calling something down to the dwarf, but a moment later the dwarf went down in a swarm of hobgoblins.  Thoslar ran to the rope and looked up, to see the elf kneeling in a shimmering silver space visible through a hole in the air. Thoslar grabbed the rope, but with a jerk the elf pulled it from his hands and vanished utterly.

Arrows continued to fly and Thoslar's priorities shifted.  "Keep these two alive!  Get behind the rocks, away from the archer.  Now!"

***

Suniel looked down from the cramped pocket of something in the nothing, watching as the hobgoblins quickly stripped Ilsa and Ming down, crudely bandaged their wounds, and took cover behind the rocks.  There was one that seemed to be giving orders - the one that had dropped Ming.

_There has to be something I can do_, Suniel thought as he watched, helpless.  His hands shook with exhaustion and his breathing was ragged.  The desire to drop the rope and go down there was almost overwhelming, but he knew all he would do was die with his companions.

The leader was shouting something down the hill, strangely mute since no sound could reach Suniel in this non-space.  There was a commotion below and the remaining seven or eight hobgoblins dragged Ilsa and Ming's bodies out into the open, one hobgoblin kneeling on Ming's back with a dagger at her throat, another with a sword leveled at the base of Ilsa's neck.

Peering intently, Suniel had a surge of hope.  Ilsa and Ming were still breathing!

The leader was shouting down the hill and Suniel shifted to get a better view.  He saw Harold walking up the hill, hands up but still holding his bow.  The leader shouted again and pointed at Ilsa and Ming and Harold dropped his bow.  He shouted something else and Harold began walking slowly towards them, arms still raised.

_They'll all be captured, but their are only eight or so hobgoblins left, Suniel thought_, the strain of maintaining even this tiny space making even thinking an effort.  _Perhaps they'll forget about me and I can find a place to rest.  I can follow them and tomorrow I'll catch the hobgoblins by surprise, set them free and-_.

Suniel watched in shock at what happened next.  

Harold, about twenty feet from Ilsa and Ming, reached back to his quiver and pulled another whole bow out, loosing two arrows before the hobgoblins could react.  Suniel grabbed his rope as he saw the two hobgoblins on Ilsa and Ming fly back.  Harold fired two more arrows, killing two others that rushed towards Ming and Ilsa's bodies and Suniel began to make the series of gestures that would allow him to open the space and drop down to help...

The world seemed to slow as Suniel stared at the scene below.  The hobgoblin leader turned back to the last few of his hobgoblins, motioned them forward, and buried his sword in Ming's back.  Suniel let out a cry and saw Harold put two arrows in the leader, staggering him back, but the huge hobgoblin managed to reach Ilsa's body.  He sneered at Harold, beheaded Ilsa, and died in a second later as an arrow slammed in the center of his chest.

***

Harold loaded the last of the gold, maps, and documents from the raft camp into his saddlebags and grabbed a torch.  His arms ached and his wounds throbbed as he lit the camp afire and walked his horse to the top of the hill where Suniel sat next to Ilsa and Ming's graves, staring at the last of the setting sun's light.

"It's done," Harold said, gesturing towards the quickly-burning camp below.  "We should move on in case there are more nearby."

"Ilsa and Ming are dead," Suniel said, without looking up.

Harold paused for a long moment as he looked at the raised dirt of the graves.  "I know, I was there.  I had a choice to make and I made it."

Suniel turned to him and Harold saw tear-channels washed in the dust of his face.  "Why?"

"They would have killed me and them as soon as they knew I was defenseless.  I did what I could to save them.  You did no better."

"That at least is true," Suniel said, bitterness in his voice.  "All my magic and there was nothing that I could do to save them."

He looked up at Harold again.  "You didn't know they would kill you.  They probably would have taken you prisoner.  If you had just surrendered and-"

Harold shook his head.  "I doubt it."  He looked down at the graves again, thinking back on all the funeral pyres he had lit in the battles against the Ashen Tower, thought back to digging through the ash and breaking the bones of the fallen so the Ashen Towers couldn't dig them up...

"Soldiers die, here and everywhere.  There's not more that can be done.  Decisions made in battle are best left in battle," he said.

Suniel turned back to the setting sun and together they watched it set.

"Come, we must go now," Harold said, leading his horse away.  He glanced back to see Suneil take a handful of Ming and Ilsa's grave dirt, tuck it into his robe.  A chill went down Harold's spine.

_Never trust a wizard._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 5 Crunch

My notes say 46 hobgoblins(a couple with levels) and 8 Dire Apes.  In exchange for two PCs.

The session was pretty much one big fight and the narrative summarizes it pretty handily.  Harold dished out serious damage with his bow(as to be expected) while Suniel quickly burned through his spells and Ming and Ilsa fought hand-to-hand.

After the first ones(about 16 hobgoblins and 2 dire apes) were dead and the raft with 6 more apes and 30 more hobgoblins showed up, Ilsa and Ming were at about 1/2 health(they'd been lower but Ilsa's aura healed them back up), Suniel was out of all his spells but cantrips and _Rope Trick_ while Harold was pretty much unhurt.

As for the ballista, I rolled a super-critical-fumble: 1 then 1 to confirm, then another 1, then a 2.  I think the ballista exploding killed 6 hobgoblins outright.

So, anyway, first two player deaths.  I wish I could say they'd be the last.

On the plus side, two new characters enter the story next session: Kezzek the Half-orc Greywarden(Ming's replacement) and Grok'Nar, the Iron Tribe hobgoblin defector(Ilsa's replacement).


----------



## Sanzuo

I'm pouring one out for my homies Ming and Ilsa.


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## Iron Sky

Session 6, Part 1

-Notes: We played session 31 last night, ending the campaign in a suitably epic fashion. So, this story has an end, 25 sessions from now...-


Harold walked into the barracks and dropped the satchel full of documents he had salvaged from the raft camp on Lieutenant Laris's desk. Laris looked at them for a moment, then to Harold's grim, dusty, form, clothing slashed and crusted here and there with dried blood.

"We destroyed the camp where they were making the rafts. I counted forty-six dead, plus eight of their war-beasts. Twelve of them had these iron-ring necklaces," he said, setting them on the desk with a metallic _clink_.

Laris blinked and ruffled through the satchel for a moment, then stopped and stared at Harold with his mouth agape. "The four of you killed forty-six hobgoblin raiders _and_ eight war beasts?"

Harold nodded wearily. "Yes, though two of our companions died, the woman and the dwarf. I hope the information there is worth it."

Harold turned to leave, grabbing the iron-ring necklaces off the table as he turned, but Laris stood quickly and grabbed his arm. "Wait! You.. you all have the thanks of Northmand, of course. I'm sorry for your companions. We will hold a public burial for them in the morning. Recognize them as heroes."

"Their bodies lie in the Ragged Hills. You may hold a funeral for them, but not a burial." Harold turned to leave again but Laris stopped him again.

"I know you must be exhausted from the battle and your travels, but there is someone you should meet," Laris said, gesturing towards a figure asleep in one of the bunks nearby. 

Laris walked over and nudged the figure with his boot. There was some indistinct grumbling and the figure pulled the blanket away and stood up.

Harold instinctively took a step back and reached for his bow, nocking and leveling an arrow in the span of a heartbeat.

***

Guntl and Stabber sat beside the Carriage, playing cards on an overturned bucket in the fading light. They paused when Suniel approached and Guntl stood.

"Hey Boss, how'd it go?" Guntl said, shaking Suniel's hand.

Suniel sighed and shook his head. "We were victorious, but at a steep price. Ming and Ilsa are dead. If you'll excuse me, I need some time alone."

Without waiting for reply, Suniel stepped over the card-strewn bucket, pulled open the carriage door, and climbed inside.

***

Kezzek Stone entered the long, low building that he assumed was the local tavern. Thunder rumbled outside and he glanced back at the dark clouds skudding across the moon.

"Greywarden, huh?" An old dwarf that Kezzek took to be the tavernkeep said, walking over with a serving tray in one hand and glancing at the huge gray metal gauntlet that covered Kezzek's whole arm and shoulder. "Don't see many of your type around here."

Kezzek grunted and scanned the room quickly. Three figures wrapped in dark cloaks sat in one corner, outsiders from the way the dozen-or-so locals avoided them. He took a seat at the bar where he could keep an eye on them and turned to the dwarf.

"I'm looking for a woman."

The tavernkeep chuckled as he set the tray down on the bar and wiped his hands with a rag. "If you're looking for orc women here, you're out of luck friend."

Kezzek looked at him sharply and growled. "I am a half-orc, not an orc."

The dwarf raised his hands and took a step back. "I meant no offense, Greywarden, just making light is all."

Kezzek grunted again and set down a coin on the bar. "I'll have whatever you have available for dinner." 

He glanced back at the far table where the cloaked figures were leaning together in close, hushed conversation, then turned to looked out the door as the rain began to patter down.

The dwarf brought him a crust of bread, a steaming bowl of stew and a tin mug full of some frothy drink. Kezzek took bite of bread and gulped some stew. He followed the dwarf's gaze back to the figures in back. "Who are they?" Kezzek said with a nod in their direction.

"Not sure, they showed up a bit after dark. Give me a bad feeling," the tavernkeep said, fidgeting and not looking directly at them.

Kezzek grunted and took a sip of his drink. "I'll keep an eye on them. Anyway, I was asking about a woman earlier, big, long silver hair, murderer."

"Murderer?" The dwarf shook his head. "No no, we had a trial by combat here a couple days ago and she proved herself innocent."

"Trail by combat? So she's here then?" Kezzek said, suddenly intent on the dwarf.

The tavernkeep looked down at the bar. "No, more's the pity. She was a good customer and fought hard for the town, for Northmand. She died fighting hobgoblins in the Ragged Hills not a day past."

Kezzek growled to himself and picked at one of his tusks for a moment before reaching into his travel sack and pulling out his journal. He slid his meal aside, set his journal on the bar and dug around until he found his ink bottle and quill. When he had it all set out on the bar he turned to the dwarf again and cleared his throat. "Tell me everything you know about the events surrounding Ming's death."

***

Harold had put his bow away but still didn't trust the hobgoblin.

"How do you know he isn't just a spy?" he said, looking the hobgoblin up and down again. The hobgoblin wore heavy armor and had a longsword of obvious hobgoblin make strapped to his side as he lounged in Laris's chair.

"It's a risk we're willing to take. Look, he says he'll lead us to Chieftain Neergrog." Laris nodded as Harold's gaze shot to him. "Yeah, that one, the one all the reports are made out to. Grok'nar here says he's one of Neergrog's cousins or something."

Harold snorted. "Neergrog's cousin? Doesn't that in itself make you a bit suspicious?"

Grok'nar yawned and spoke in rough Common. "Neergrog saw me as a threat and tried to have me killed. I didn't like the idea much or the idea of dying for the High King in some war against the humans." He shrugged. "Maybe this way, Neergrog dies and we stop the war Neergrog and his Iron-ring cronies are pushing for before it starts and I have to get killed in it."

"Iron-ring?" Harold and Laris at the same time. Harold pulled the bundle of necklaces from his belt and held them out to Grok'nar.

Grok'nar looked at them and then cooly at Harold. "Been killing some hobgoblins have we?" he said. "At least you killed some of the right ones. The Iron-rings are the High-King's underlings, sends them to keep an eye on the other tribes, make sure we're all doing what he wants. Keep us in line you see."

Harold stood, weariness suddenly overtaking him. "We can talk about this all later. I'm going to go get something warm to eat and sleep in a soft bed."

He nodded to Laris and walked out. When he reached the inn, he glanced back to see the hobgoblin following him.

***

Kezzek finished jotting the tavernkeep's statement and closed his book. "I'll need to talk with this Suniel Au and Harold Trisden of course. You know where I might find them?"

"The wizard's probably in that big black carriage of his," the dwarf said and pointed across the room. "Harold is that one over there by the fire, he walked a few minutes ago while we were here talking - along with that one that cleared out half my commons. No matter what Laris says, I can't bring myself to trust a hobgoblin." 

Kezzek nodded and glanced up, his gaze pausing at the corner table. One of the figures there had pulled his hood back, his skin sickly pale in the flickering firelight of the fireplace and the lanterns. Their eyes met, the other smiled faintly, and Kezzek felt a knot of fear in the human half of him that clashed with a blaze of rage from his orc side.

"Get out of here," Kezzek said to the dwarf as he walked quickly to the door. It was all he could do to not run.

Once he was outside he turned the corner of the inn - soaked to the bone before he had taken ten steps - and ran full-tilt towards the barracks he had noticed when he arrived in town.

He hurled the door open, startling a young blond man in a Northmand officer's uniform sitting at a table strewn with papers. The young officer stood up as sleeping guardsmen tumbled from their bunks, reaching for weapons.

"There's an assassin in the inn. Extremely dangerous," he said to the officer, ignoring the others. "He killed four high-ranking Greywardens a few months ago when we tried to apprehend him. You must send a rider to the Greywarden outpost in Northmand, immediately."

The young officer gulped, nodded, and stood, turning to a lean soldier in a nearby bunk. "Tuck, dress quickly and get your horse ready."

Kezzek already had a sheet of parchment out, a hasty message scribbled, and the Greywarden seal set into a dollop of red wax by the time the soldier was dressed. He stuffed the dispatch in a leather scroll case and handed it over. "Make haste. Don't stop for anyone. This assassin could kill anyone - everyone - here on a whim."

The rider gulped as he took the dispatch, glanced at the officer for reassurance, took a deep breath and walked quickly out into the rain.

Kezzek turned to the officer again. "We need to get the people out of the inn. As long as he's here in town he's a threat to-"

He stopped at the sound of a grunt and a splash outside. In one motion he had his double-bladed quor'rel off his back and was out the door.

The second he was out the door a pale-faced shadow was at his side. He felt the press of a blade against his leather armor and froze as the shadow leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Play dead, Greywarden, and we'll let you live."

Instead, Kezzek shifted and slammed one of his quor'rel blades deep into the man's gut and twisted, staggering the man back a few steps.

The man jerked once, staring down at the blade, then looked up. He grinned, blood running between his teeth.

"Wrong move."

The rest happened in a blur, so fast Kezzek didn't even have time to think. One second his blade was six inches into the man's gut, the next the man held him by the neck with one hand, Kezzek's toes dangling in the mud. The man spat blood in Kezzek's face and slammed a dagger into his side.

The pain tore through Kezzek like lightning and the world began to fade into the sudden roar of the rain. He only half-felt himself flying through the air, discarded like a doll. Then he slammed into the wall of the barracks and landed hard, his side blazing where his blood poured out into the water and mud.


----------



## Sanzuo

Bumping to say our first 4e session ever kicked ass.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 6, Part 2


Harold froze, a steaming spoonful of stew half-way to his mouth. He thought he'd heard something outside over the rain and thunder.

A quick glance around the room told him no one else had noticed, but his eyes stopped and the back table. There was only one man there, cowl hiding his face but seeming to be looking in Harold's direction.

_There were three of them when I came in_, Harold thought, a tingle running down his spine. He hadn't seen anyone leave since he'd come in - and he sat right next to the door.

Harold stood and walked slowly to the doorway, still staring at the figure at the back table. The cowl moved slightly, as if the figure was shaking its head at him.

A moment later he was out in the rain, squinting towards half-a-dozen torches that flickered outside the barracks and a dozen figures that clashed there. His bow flew to his hands and he stared hard, singling out one of the two dark figures that fought the Laketide guardsman.

Arrows flew from his bow in rapid succession, slamming into one of the dark figures. After two arrows it had turned towards him, ignoring the guards around it. After four it was rushing towards him in spite of the force of his arrows' impact. After six it collapsed backwards into the mud.

The guards closed in it, but another dark figure leapt over their heads, grabbed the one Harold had dropped, and looked up at Harold, eyes reflecting light like a wolf. And then both were gone.

A voice whispered in Harold's ear. "Turn around and walk back inside. I have no desire to fight you."

The hair rose on Harold's neck and he spun, sword singing from its sheath on his back.

***

Suniel stepped out of the carriage into the downpour, squinting through the sheets of rain, and saw that his suspicions were not unfounded. Nearby Harold stood face to face with a dark figure, his sword drawn, while guardsmen ran about near the barracks in what seemed to be near-panic.

Suniel cast a shrouding spell and moved to help Harold, but it was over before he could take ten steps.

Harold swung his sword, but the figure sidestepped it like Harold was a child swinging a too-heavy stick and slammed his hand into Harold's face. Harold staggered back but the figure grabbed his wrist and twisted sharply, dropping Harold to one knee and sending his sword splashing into the mud.

Harold tried to pull free, but the figure turn and sent Harold sailing through the air. As he flew, the figure... _shifted_... one moment perfectly still, the next five feet away, leg straight out to the side, foot slamming into Harold's chest. Harold flew another ten feet, slid fifteen in the mud, and lay unmoving.

The figure turned to where Suniel - still shrouded by his magics - had come to a stop, nodded to him, and was gone.

***

Grok'nar picked his teeth as he walked out of the inn and wandered over to see what the commotion was.

A few corpses lay sprawled in the mud by the barracks and Grok'nar had to rein in an instinct to search them as guards rushed about him every direction with drawn weapons, staying in tight, anxious-looking groups.

Lieutenant Laris looked grim as he knelt by the half-orc Grok'nar had seen in the inn, his hand on the half-orc's chest. Grok'nar knelt as well, looking the half-orc over for a moment before he spotted the knife sticking from his ribs.

Laris shot a look at him as Grok'nar reached for the knife. "Wait! If we remove it he might die. Wait for the village healer."

Grok'nar made a dismissive gesture and slid it free. "I think he'll be fine," he said as he wiped the knife down on his pant leg, examined it for a moment, and tucked it into his boot. He concentrated for a moment on the Greywarden then stood.

Laris stood as well, eyes still on the fallen figure. "How do you know he'll be ok? The wound looks fatal."

"Not even close," Grok'nar said, nudging the fallen half-orc with his boot. "Hey, ugly, wake up."

A group of mud-splattered soldiers ran up, delivering some sort of quick report. Grok'nar was barely listening, but caught "four dead," "bare hands," and "leapt over the barracks in a single jump."

_So this isn't just some sort of human dispute-resolution_, Grok'nar thought, curiosity suddenly aroused. He was about to ask Laris a question when the half-orc sat up with a gasp.

"Where is he?" the half-orc said, using the barracks wall to pull himself to his feet. "And where is my weapon?"

Laris handed the Graywarden a strange, curved two-bladed sword. "It's here Greywarden. What were they?"

The half-orc stared out at almost-indistinct torchlit groups searching the village, growling. "I told you, he's an assassin. He killed four senior Greywardens and three others when we caught up to him in the middle of the night. Killed them with his bare hands and gave me this when he threw me through a tree." The half-orc gestured to the paralyzed left side of his face where the skin hung, mottled gray. "Only reason I'm alive is he probably thought I was dead. Nearly was."

"I thought you were dead just now," Laris said. "I don't know how you are even standing."

"I don't know either," the half-orc said, putting a hand to his side. A look of puzzlement, then wonder came over his face. "My wound is almost sealed."

Grok'nar smiled faintly and put his hand in his pocket on the green dragonscale he had found, the one that gave him his power.

***

Kezzek looked up as he finished writing an entry in his book. Lieutenant Laris, the elven wizard, and the hobgoblin looked back at him. Well, the Lieutenant and the elf did; the hobgoblin seemed half-asleep as he lounged in his chair. 

Shouts drifted in from the open door as the one the elf had told him was Honor Guard Harold Trisden raced around outside with the soldiers, hunting for the assassins.

He rubbed at the ache in his neck where the assassin's "man" had grabbed him. Where he had been gripped it was strangely cold, almost like ice, and throbbed constantly.

"They are gone by now," Kezzek said. "He's always on the move. I will go to the Greywarden Enclave in Northmand in the morning to report it."

"Prehaps Suniel and Harold will escort you there, they are most capable," Laris said, gesturing to the elf and making a vague gesture towards the torches moving about outside. He turned to Grok'nar. "The Captain wants to meet Grok'nar for himself anyways, so the trip could achieve many purposes."

The elf nodded. "I would like to purchase some things in town; I will go. When Harold gives up on his revenge I imagine he'll come as well. Maybe I should have waited longer before feeding him one of his healing potions..."

Kezzek nodded and closed his book. "It's settled then, we leave in the morning."


----------



## Haunted

I just wanted to add some encouragement.  Keep up the story hour writing.  I'm enjoying the characters and the action as well as the flow of your style.  

Keep writing and I'll keep reading!


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## Sanzuo

I might be biased but this has to be one of the most fun role playing campaigns we've ever done.  This game, combined with Iron Sky's entertaining narrative has me completely on the edge of my seat... and I already know what happens!


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## Son_of_Thunder

Just wanted to post and say I'm enjoying this story hour. Keep it up. I can't wait to read more of these supermen assassins.


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## Iron Sky

Session 6, Part 3

-Note: Thanks for the comments, glad people are enjoying it!  Another update tomorrow-


Long strands of lanterns hung between the high, thick walls of Northmand, already lit as the sun set and casting cheery light down on stalls and makeshift dance-floors of the Harvest Festival.

Kezzek barely saw it even as he passed through the celebrations, Grok'nar following not far behind, smartly wearing a white harvest mask over his face to avoid any unwelcome confrontations.  _Probably for the best he stay close_, Kezzek thought as he glanced back at the hobgoblin.  _He seems honest in his goal, but he_ is _a hobgoblin_.  The others had already dispersed on their separate tasks.

The Greywarden Enclave's remote location deep within the outer wall of Northmand made finding it difficult - and all the dancers, jugglers, wrestlers, running children, singers, loose dogs, dancers, and drunks roaming everywhere or gathered around bonfires that seemed to be placed at random made the going slow.  When he finally found the Enclave he found it empty.  And Grok'nar had disappeared somewhere along the way.  He let out a sigh and hefted the massive Tome of Judgments onto its pedestal.

_I have identified the criminal responsible for the deaths of seven Greywardens,_ he wrote and dipped the quill in the ink again. _He was in the town of Laketide, where he and two companions killed four soldiers and assaulted others, including myself. Local authority was Lt. Laris._ 

He blotted and started a new entry.  _There is a new case regarding a hobgoblin bandit leader guilty of terrorism, robbery, and banditry in Northmand area.  Known locally as a Neergrog.  Will investigate with potentiality of judgment._

A quick glance in his own journal and he jotted one more line down.  _Closing of case: Ming.  Re: murder of Kellin family member.  Subject died in unrelated activities after receiving local justice._

After one more glance over what he had written, he rubbed the clammy, still blackened ring on his neck where the assassin's "man" had grabbed him.  He had a faint suspicion about the mark and set out to find a priest to see if they might know what it was - and how to cure it.

***

Harold was ready for a hot herb bath and some clean clothes, but he had an important task to complete.  The Captain was not in, so he left his message for the Ambassador in the hands of the Captain's adjutant.  He turned to leave, but paused for a moment.

"Adjutant," he said, stopping the man half-way back into the Captain's office.  "Make sure that gets into the Ambassador's hands as soon as possible.  It explains where I'm going, so if he doesn't get it before I get back, _someone_ will pay."

The Adjutant nodded with a gulp and turned away, but Harold stopped him again.  "Oh, one more thing.  This may sound like an odd question, but if I were looking for a sage with some information on potentially supernatural beings disguised as humans, where would I look?"

***

Grok'nar sat atop the outer wall and glanced out across the dark farmland of Northmand, lit here and there by the candle-sized lights of wind-flickering bonfires.  The cool breeze smelled of rain and carried the sound of its motion through a thousand rustling leaves.  After a quick glance around to make sure no one was close enough to see, he slid the white wooden mask up off his face.

_By the Dark Ones, I hope I never have to assault this,_ he thought, knocking on the solid, still faintly sun-warmed stone of the battlement.  _Neergrog has never seen this, I'll bet even the High King has no idea, no wonder our armies fell apart against it a hundred years ago.  _He glanced out over the land again, a surge of something that was a mix of jealousy and disgust washing over him as he took in the richness of the landscape and the strength of the walls.  _If we had lands half as rich as this, a tenth!_

He thought of his brothers, their headless corpses dangling by the guard-post as he entered his home lair for the last time.  _Better that uncle Neergrog die to my steel than me and mine die to these humans'..._

***

Harold knocked again on the door to the squat, strange building with it's odd dome-shaped roof.  The door flew open as he reached to knock a third time, revealing a human so squat and stout, Harold almost took him for a dwarf.  The man wore a strange garment that looked like the ragged remains of three or four robes stitched together to make one even-more-ragged looking one and the last long wisps of brown hair on his head were wild to match.

Harold cleared his throat, but the man sighed, rolled his eyes, and motioned Harold into the cramped entryway in the faint pre-dawn light.  "I already know why you're here.  Come to see the sage's great library.  You know, I once had a young woman knock on my door to bring me flowers?  Or was it an old halfling woman?  They sometimes look alike you know..."

Nodding, Harold stepped inside.  Ahead of him, the sage passed through a second door and into a room that seemed to be built beneath a staircase and contained not else but a short rope and a massive candle.  "You can use the books, but no funny business!  My spell books aren't down there so don't ask.  Pay the gold when you leave."

Harold stood in the doorway as the man dangled the rope until one end touched the floor, muttered something, and jerked upwards, pulling up a clump of floorboards to reveal a stairwell descending into darkness.  "Gold?" Harold said.  "I thought-"

The sage waved his hand.  "Restocking fee.  And cleanup fee since you types always need to drag everything out and then just leave it lying wherever.  By the hour.  Just come up and knock when you're ready to leave.  No, I won't leave you trapped down there.  Dusty books are bad enough, can you imagine what a mess _you'd_ be to clean up?  Bleh, no thanks...  So are you going in or what?"

Harold clamped his mouth closed and headed down the stairs, the smell of dust and parchment rising to his nostrils as he descended.

***

Suniel stood on the carriage-bench and stretched as they pulled up beside the Laketide inn again.  "Master, master, liar," No Tongue said from behind him, mimicking Suniel's stretch.

Kezzek glanced up at him as he walked by, leading his own mount towards the stable.  "You and your goblin having a disagreement?"

"No," Suniel said with a deep sigh and a glance at the little goblin.  "He's found a couple new words.  That's one of the better ones.  Half of his vocabulary now seems to be curses now unfortunately."

The half-orc grunted and walked on.  Guntl got down as well and stood beside Suniel as they unhitched the horses.  "I caught Stabber trying to steal some apples while you were off buying supplies last night," Guntl said softly.

Suniel sighed again.  "Did you make him return them?"

Guntl shook his head and pulled a bridle off, brushing a finger across the horse's nose softly.  "He tried to dispose of the evidence by stuffing it into Lunt's shirt when he saw me coming, but I returned what was left and paid for what wasn't."

"Well done," Suniel said and pulled out a few coins.  "Take these to take care of things for the next few days and for the apples."

Guntl took the coins and looked up from uncinching a strap.  "Heading out again?"

Suniel nodded as his hands worked at a harness buckle.  "Apparently Harold and Grok'nar have the makings of a plan.  All I overheard is that we'll be avoiding notice as we head into the territory of the Iron Tribes by going through some 'Burrows' that the hobgoblins avoid like the plague."

"I'll bet there's a reason for that," Guntl said as he finished unharnessing the other horse and took the other's lead rope from Suniel.

"Of that, at least, I have no doubt," Suniel said, staring out into the Ragged Hills as Guntl lead the horses away.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 6 Crunch

Not really too much crunch to this one.  The details of the fight were altered a tiny bit for dramatic effect.  Harold did put up a bit more fight in the actual game but the end result was about the same.

Now that a few of my players are reading this, I'm getting little reminders from them on what I'm forgetting.  So far it's mostly been combat details though - nothing too big.

This session is actually kind of the calm before the storm.  The next session was big, in more ways than one.  Plot, combat, in- and out-of-game duration.

The scope of the game starts to expand from here, slow at first, until - well, you'll see.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 7, Part 1


Harold leaned down to rifle through his saddlebags and produced the scroll that had arrived for him just as he left Laketide. The wax seal bore the Crystal Towers sigil. He sliced it open with his long dagger and read.

_Honor Guard Harold Trisden,_

_I have heard of your exploits with the Iron Tribes. One faction of the Council disapproves, but another - growing - faction favors war with the hobgoblins and I have sided with them. As such, any harm you can inflict on the Iron Tribes will further our standing here, with at least the Council members I am currently in negotiations with. You have my leave to follow your own judgment on these matters until I return from our recently re-extended tour of Northmand on the 21st of July._

_Under the Light of the Crystal Towers,_
_Ambassador Stevens._

Harold skimmed it again and half-smiled with satisfaction as he rolled up the scroll and placed it back in his saddlebag.

"Good news?" Grok'nar said, from his place at the head of the small column, glancing back as he took a drought from his wineskin.

Harold shrugged. "Good enough."

The Greywarden rode up beside him. "So, what is this plan of yours to bring Neergrog to justice?"

Grok'nar, riding a shaggy horse about the same color as the hills they were passing through and Suniel, riding one of his carriage horses bareback, rode closer at the mention.

"Grok'nar and I have put together a plan we think will work," Harold said. "Quite simply, we ride through a region of the Ragged Hills called the Burrows. The Iron Tribes avoid the area, so we only risk being spotted when we cross the border into the lands they do patrol. Once there, we keep our hoods up, Grok'nar keeps his down to minimize risk at a distance and we destroy any patrol that gets too close."

"Sounds like a decent plan, but what about when we actually get to wherever Neergrog is?" Suniel said. "And isn't there a good reason why the hobgoblins avoid the Burrows?"

Grok'nar shrugged. "We'll figure out how to get in when we get there. Shouldn't be too hard. They aren't expecting an attack, especially that far from Northmand."

"And the Burrows?"

"Ankhegs. As long as we don't stumble into one of the larger warrens, we should be fine."

Suniel frowned.

"Look, Grok'nar made it to here from there without getting caught, we'll be fine," Harold said.

After a moment Suniel's frown faded. "That's true I suppose. All right. Three days you say?"

Grok'nar and Harold both nodded. "Or so," Grok'nar added.

Suniel and Kezzek drifted back a bit, but Grok'nar leaned close to Harold. "I didn't take the Burrows when I fled, too dangerous."

"Doesn't matter," Harold said. "It'll work out."

Grok'nar snorted and scratched his back, his eyes drifting towards the sky. A moment later he raised a hand to shade them. "What is that?"

Harold reached for his bow and looked up, not knowing whether to expect a rain of metal men or a ball of fire. He saw neither.

After a moment of staring, he said, "I have no idea."

***

It was about the size of a man's head and almost perfectly round, made of the same rusty metal as the iron constructs had been. On one side it had a red gem that shifted about in a shallow socket, giving the impression that it was looking around. A single, almost wire-thin arm extended from the bottom, ending in a tiny pincer claw.

Suniel and the others reined in and regarded it in silence for several minutes as it did the same to them.

"Sherguz werkal?" it finally 'said,' the strange sounds tinny.

The four companions glanced amongst themselves.

"Alooah beao nala?" it said, spurring another round of bemused glances.

"You speak this?" it finally said in draconic.

"Yes, I do," Suniel said in the same language. "What are you?"

The gem-eyed orb turned towards him, floated closer, and examined him for a moment as the others all shot Suniel questioning looks.

"Return the stone," it said.

"What's it saying?" Harold said.

It immediately spun towards Harold and repeated itself in common. "Return the stone."

"What stone?" Harold said. Suniel noticed the archer's hand drift towards his chest and quickly jerk away, but his attention was mostly focused on the floating construct.

"It is ours, return the stone."

"Who is us?" Suniel said. "And what stone is it you want?" He murmured and gestured and a few small rocks floated to his hand from the dirt. "Do you want one of these?"

"Maybe it's hungry," Grok'nar said. Kezzek snorted.

It turned back to Suniel as he held the rocks out to the thing. The spindly arm reached out and picked each one up with its pincer and held them each under close scrutiny before it's gem for a long moment before tossing them aside. "The stone, the amulet. Iron Sky demands the amulet."

"What is Iron Sky?" Kezzek said, trotting closer to the thing.

It drifted higher and spun towards him. "Give us the stone," it said, it's tinny voice almost pleading.

"Do you mean this?" Suniel said, reaching into a side pouch and pulling out the charged hematite necklace he had taken from Ming before he buried her. Harold's eyes shot to it, his lips pursed, but the gem-eye's reaction was even stronger.

It hurled itself towards Suniel, gem aglow and pincer arm waiving about towards him frantically. "Give it to us, give it to us. Iron Sky demands you give it to us! Demands!"

"Wait a moment," Suniel said, pulling the amulet away from its reaching pincer. "Why-"

There was a clang and the thing flew sideways in a rain of metal parts, disintegrating into a cloud of metal flakes as it struck the hard dirt. The other three turned to Harold as he placed his bow back in his quiver. "We don't have time for this," he said. "Grok'nar, lead on."

Grok'nar quirked an eyebrow at Harold, but complied. Kezzek stroked the point of one of his tusks, growling faintly and seemingly absently as he watched the archer ride after the hobgoblin. Then he too followed.

Suniel glanced down at the metal dust that had already begun to drift in the wind, a hundred questions flitting through his mind. In the end, he sighed and he too turned his horse and followed Grok'nar deeper into the Ragged Hills.

***

There was movement outside its prey-spot and the creature settled down, legs compressed and ready to leap through the dirt-rouse-wall that it had carefully constructed over this prey-spot. The things smelled of meat even through the thin dirt covering and acid began to run from its mandibles in anticipation.

One passed, but the ground-trembles told it that it was big and too far away to reach with a burst-lunge, so it waited. Another passed, closer. Then another, close enough to-

It hurled through the dirt-rouse-wall and shook loose soil from its compound eyes. A four-leg/two-leg meat thing was before it, the four-leg rearing up on two as the creature launched towards it.

The four-leg came down, lashing fore-legs keeping the creature at bay. Then there was a pain from the side and the creature spun towards another four-leg/two-leg, this one spitting wooden splinters that punched through the creature's hard carapace. It snapped at the splinters as it tried to catch the spitter, but the spitter was too quick.

Then something bit the creature from behind and it spun again, snapping onto the first thing it saw - the square wood carapace attached to one of the two-leg's forearms. It bit at it angrily, pain from all sides pushing it nearer and nearer to the point of flight. The two-leg with the carapace-arm stabbed it again and again with a metal stinger, piercing painfully here and there on the creature's abdomen until it could take the pain no more.

It turned to flee only to find the biggest four-leg/two-leg of them all blocking the way back to its hole. The creature charged the four-leg, hoping to knock it out of the way so it could escape, but there was a blast of sudden flame and the creature felt three of its legs detach, watching them fly apart, trailing smoke, through its rear eye-facets.

Desperate and hurt, it reared back its head, a glob of burning acid working up towards its mouth. It flicked its head down, mandibles wide, to hurl the sticky-burning ball at the four-leg/two-leg in its way, but as it brought its head down, it saw the two-leg leaping from the four-leg's back with a roar, its metal arm glinting, a shining metal twin-claw in its hands. The two-leg landed heavily on the creature's back, claw swinging and slicing the creature's head off.

The glob of acid fell from the thing's mouth and dissolved into the baked dirt.

***

Kezzek pulled the second blade of his quor'rel from the Ankheg's back and leaped clear as the headless, seared, one-legged body thrashed.

He pulled out a rag and wiped the blades of his quor'rel down quickly as Harold rode closer and Suniel stood a safe distance away examining the body.

"Well, now everyone knows what an Ankheg is if you didn't already," Grok'nar said, rubbing his shield arm and examining his acid-marked shield. "Welcome to the Burrows."


----------



## arcanaman

Love the story  my favorite character is Suniel keep writing


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## Sanzuo

Personally I feel like we should get a more detailed visual description of Kezzek.

Hmph.


----------



## Ed Gentry

Really, really enjoying it. I think Harold is keeping the story hour together with a sort of charismatic cohesion.

I admit, though, Ming was my favorite character. I was very sorry to see her go.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 7, Part 2

-Notes: Went and added a few physical details about Kezzek to 6:1 and 6:2.  Not much, just a few crucial details.-


The attack came without warning, five of the giant creatures flying from their hidden burrows, mandibles wide, as the companions rode through the gully.  Kezzek snarled and charged the nearest two, slashing back and forth with his quor'rel.  The battle was pitched about him, but Kezzek's whole attention was focused on his rearing horse, the swing of his blades, and the mandibles snapping around his head and scraping off his gauntleted arm.

An arrow exploded out of the forehead of one and a moment later Kezzek was wrenching his blade from the other as it thrashed in the dirt.  He glanced over to see Gork'nar on foot but handily finishing off another.  A fourth lay smoldering and riddled with arrows not far away.  Suniel was no where to be seen.

"Where's the wizard?" Kezzek shouted, scanning the nearby area.

"I think one dragged him into its hole.  That one?" Grok'nar said and pointed with his sword before burying it in the ankheg at his feet again as it spasmed.

Kezzek rode to the hole Grok'nar pointed at and leapt off his horse.  The tunnel was fragile and narrow, but he saw something shuffling inside at the edge of his keen orcish dark sight.  "In here!" he shouted and charged.

The fight was brutal in the close confines and Kezzek was afraid the tunnels would collapse at several points.  When the ankheg was finally dead, he dragged Suniel's limp form back into the light and the waiting Grok'nar and Harold.

"You look like hell," Grok'nar said.  "He dead?"

Kezzek wearily knelt next to the elf and examined him.  The wizard's wounds were deep and raw, his breathing shallow.  "I don't..." he began.

As he watched the wounds began to close, the ragged edges slowly pulling together.  Most of them didn't seal completely, but Suniel's breathing became smoother and his eyelids fluttered.

"The wizard must have some impressive rejuvenation spell on him," Kezzek said, watching the healing with interest.

"It's not him, I've seen this before," Harold said from where he still sat on his warhorse.  "It has to be Grok'nar."

Kezzek quirked an eyebrow at the hobgoblin and Harold was looking at him levelly as well.  Grok'nar shrugged and pulled out a bundle of bandages from his pack.  "Still probably need some of these for you and the elf."

For the first time Kezzek really noticed his own wounds, the pain seeping in as the adrenaline faded, his orc blood singing with the after-energy of battle.  He had two bite wounds and innumerable other small cuts, scrapes, bruises, and acid burns all over his body.  "I've had worse," he said.

Suniel coughed and opened his eyes, squinting in the daylight as he looked up at his companions.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Well, if this is heaven, it's far uglier than I imagined."

"Cute," Kezzek said, helping the wizard to his feet.

***

Suniel stretched his leg, wincing as the bandages shifted.  The camp fire popped as a log split and across the fire pit the Greywarden snorted and shifted in his blankets.  Suniel smiled as the half-orc growled in his sleep.

_I'd be dead today if it weren't for him_, he thought.  _I guess whatever has kept me alive this long has a different fate in mind for me than being ankheg food._

Harold stirred and shifted as well and Suniel glanced in his direction.  _I wonder what fate brought all of us together.  Greywarden, Crystal Towers soldier..._  His gaze turned to the snoring hobgoblin.  _And a hobgoblin with strange healing powers.  A defective hobgoblin,_ he mentally amended, half-chuckling.  _I wonder what he really wants, is it really-_

He was never sure what it was that forewarned him, but one moment he was sitting by the fire, the next he had thrown himself to the side as a huge chitinous figure exploded out of the ground where he had been sitting, mandibles clacking together in a spray of acid.

"Attack!" he shouted, retreating and hurling a ball of fire at the ankheg as his companions leapt from their bedrolls and reached for weapons, Kezzek running towards the thrashing horses with a roar while Harold and Grok'nar faced another.  One of the horses squealed in pain and the others strained at their ropes.  

Suniel murmured and gestured as the ankheg he had just wounded rushed towards him, blasting it backwards again.  It fell heavily, but a moment later was scrabbling back to its legs, rearing back its head in the movement Suniel had come to associate with them spitting acid.  With another chant and a flick, he blew its head off, raining him with smoldering pieces of chitin and tiny flecks of acid that burned against his skin like hot needle-points.

Nearby, Grok'nar and Harold were finishing off the one that had rushed them.  A second ankheg was struggling to drag a fallen horse away from the hill where they had made camp.  Kezzek was missing.

"Get the one going for the horses!" Suniel shouted and ran off the direction he had last seen the Greywarden.

He found the quor'rel lying in the dirt not far from the horses and halted, straining his senses as he searched the dark for some further sign.

A moment later he heard the scrape of metal on rock and he ran headlong in that direction, mindless of the dark that was nearly complete even in his keen elven vision.

He found the burrow by literally falling into it, landing heavily on his side in the loose dirt.  The burrow was pitch-black so Suniel pulled out one of the pebbles he always kept in one of his robe pouches.  A moment later it flared to light, refracting off the facets of two bulbous eyes and glinting off a metal gauntlet.

"Here, here!" Suniel shouted as the ankheg clamped down on the Greywarden's body and dragged it further down the tunnel.  Suniel charged towards it, brandishing the light and blasting it with razor-sharp slivers of energy.  It chittered at him and lunged, sending him backpedaling as its mandibles snapped together inches from his chest.

He stumbled and it pressed towards him, dragging him under it with its forelegs.  Suniel's magic tore into it again, throwing it back for a moment, but it was on him again, mandibles wide as it lunged towards his head.

Suniel raised his arms futilely as it dropped onto him, but something slammed into it right before it struck, throwing it back.  "Come, beast," Grok'nar said in goblin, standing over Suniel as he faced the creature.

The ankheg lunged forward but Grok'nar ducked under, his shield slamming into its head with a cracking sound, sending a mandible flying, and driving its head hard into the packed soil of the tunnel.  In a rain of dirt, still pinning its head to the ceiling with his shield, Grok'nar pivoted and drove his blade into its neck, grunting as he drove his shoulder into the motion.  His sword buried in to the hilt and the ankheg convulsed.

Grok'nar leapt back as it flailed in its death throes and stomped its head into the dirt with a hobnailed boot.  It twitched as he ground his heels into its eyes and spat on it.  Then the hobgoblin turned, covered with ichor and dirt, sheathed his sword, and helped Suniel to his feet.

"Let's get this orc out of here before the tunnel collapses.  He might be useful later if more attack."

Suniel nodded and together they hauled the unconscious Greywarden out of the crumbling burrow.

***

"You sure this is the stream?" Harold said as they stopped to water the horses.

Grok'nar nodded and checked the bandage on his shaggy mount as it drank.  "The ankhegs don't stay to their side of it completely of course, but it's a general demarker of the Burrows."

Harold scanned the area.  "How intense are the patrols around here?"

"He already said they didn't think anything would come through here, archer.  No patrols," the Greywarden rumbled, checking his own bandages with a wince.

Grok'nar echoed Kezzek.

"Then I say we camp there," Harold said, pointing upstream.  "That formation looks like its mostly the 'crown' rust-rock.  We camp at the far end of the *U *it makes.  Defensible and sheltered, fresh water."

"And there's shade," Suniel said, wiping his brow.  "That alone is enough for me."

"Good," Harold said, already leading his horse towards it.  "Because now that we're here, we need a plan."

"I've had a plan since I headed to Northmand," Grok'nar said, his eyes narrowing as looked at the battered party - Suniel kneeling nearby, checking his horse's hoof, Kezzek disassembling his quor'rel as he walked, Harold stopped not far ahead, squinting at the rock formation as he dug in the saddle bag where he kept his waterskins.  Grok'nar's hand rested on his hilt.  "I think it's finally time to act on it."

***

A hobgoblin approached the outpost on foot, alone except for a chained figure it prodded on with its sword.  The two hobgoblins on watch straightened and peered into the darkness beyond their torchlight, trying to make out details.  When the figures finally entered the firelight, Cherek's eyes widened.

"Grok'nar?  I thought you were dead."

Grok'nar gave his lopsided grin and took Cherek's hand.  "Take more than Neergrog's goon stabbing me in my sleep to put me down.  I see you two have managed to survive somehow too."

Cherek nodded as his brother Pick approached and slapped Grok'nar on the back.  "Neergrog and his Iron Ring thugs don't know we're related and we weren't about to let him know.  Don't go telling on us now," Cherek said.

He jerked his chin towards the dirty, worn, bandaged, yet proud-looking human in some form of uniform that stood in chains behind Grok'nar.  "Who 'dat?"

Grok'nar's grin widened.  "I caught me the human responsible for destroying the raft camp."

Cherek and Pick glanced at each other and cast scrutinizing gazes at Grok'nar.  "How you know about that?  We just found out ourselves."

"Used my brains," Grok'nar said, tapping his forehead.  "Heard him talking about it and then figured a way to catch him unawares, you might say.  Figured he might be the sort of thing that might get me back into Neergrog's graces."

Pick stepped closer and looked the human up and down appraisingly.  "Well, if there's anything, he'd be it.  Neergrog flew into one of his spittle-rages and found a few more 'traitors' to execute when he heard the news.  This human says he destroyed the whole camp on his own?"

Grok'nar shrugged.  "Near enough.  Doesn't really matter as long as Neergrog thinks so, eh?"

"Well, good luck in there Grok'nar," Cherek said as he and Pick stepped aside to let them through.  "With the mood Neergrog has been in lately, you'll need it."

With a nod to his cousins, Gork'nar entered the outpost, heading straight to Neergrog's audience chamber with his prisoner.


----------



## Sanzuo

Bumpin' awesome thread.  This weekend is gonna rule.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 7, Part 3

Neergrog snarled at Shro'kar and hefted his greataxe menacingly. "You must be stupid if you think I'll believe it was only two humans that destroyed the raft camp. Either that or you think I'm stupid. Neither is a very healthy way for you to be," Neergrog said.

Shro'kar was unfazed. "I didn't say there were only two, just that only two survived. We dug up the bodies of two others - a dwarf and a human woman - but didn't find any others. And if you were really going to try to do something 'unhealthy' to me, you wouldn't be paying me so much."

There was some noise from the passageway leading to the outpost's entrance and Neergrog glared in that direction at the disturbance. His eyes bulged. "You! I thought you were dead!"

Grok'nar stood with a chained figure in tow at the junction where the entrance passageway intercepted the passageways leading east to the barracks, north to Neergrog's audience chamber, and west to the rest of the outpost. "I brought a mighty gift to appease you, great Neergrog. I only hope that I might buy your mercy and appease you with a gift."

Neergrog was on his feet, already seeing red. He forced himself to calm slightly and looked over Grok'nar's prisoner. "He doesn't look like anything to me. Explain quickly and well or I'll make sure you die this time."

Grok'nor bowed - the hilt of a greatsword of human make jutting from his shoulder - and gestured to the human who stood, chin thrust out proudly, cooly appraising Neergrog. "This is the one that destroyed the raft camp."

"What?" Neergrog shouted, hefting his axe. "This one? This one alone?"

"He's lying - no lone human could do such a thing," Firon the Advisor said, walking closer to Neergrog's throne. Shro'kar and Dalak moved to flank Neergrog, readying their own weapons.

Grok'nar shrugged. "There were others - two died there and I dealt with the other this morning before I came here."

Hearing the numbers Shro'kar had just told him from another mouth cemented it for him and his vision tunneled on the arrogant human. He let out a roar and charged.

Suddenly, the human's chains were free, a greatsword in his hands. A split-second later two other figures suddenly appeared as well: an elf, already chanting and gesturing towards Neergrog and his entourage, and a huge half-orc with a wicked looking double-blade, stepping up next to Grok'nar and the human.

A bead of fire whizzed past Neergrog's head as he charged and a detonation of heat and flame washed over him from behind. He stumbled briefly, but the pain was washed away in a red wall of rage as he clashed with Grok'nar and his prisoner, Shro'kar and Dalak close behind him.

They slammed into the enemy and Neergrog bellowed for reinforcements. He brought his knee into Grok'nar's chest and shoved him back, distantly felt a slash tear into his shoulder, turned, and swept the human's feet out from under him. The human rolled away before Neergrog could follow up, leaping to his feet and turning to face the reinforcements that closed on the infiltrators from all sides. The elf chanted something else and the barracks tunnel was suddenly enveloped in a chill white cloud, radiating cold so strongly Neergrog could feel it from thirty feet away.

Dalak went down to the blades of the half-orc - a Greywarden some distant, logical part of his mind realized - while the human turned to slaughter the hobgoblins that stumbled, frostbitten and shivering uncontrollably, out of the white fog. Grok'nar planted a iron-shod boot in Neergrog's chest and sent him stumbling back.

Neergrog countered with a blow that split Grok'nar's shield in half, crunched into his arm, and slammed him into the wall, his sword flying from his hand. Neergrog roared triumphantly and lunged forward to finish the traitor off and was jerked to a halt.

He looked down, confused, and saw that Grok'nar had somehow gotten ahold of Dalak's sword. A foot of it was buried in Neergrog's chest. He roared again and swung his axe at Grok'nar's head, but the traitor sidestepped it almost casually and slid the blade in to the hilt, staring pitilessly into Neergrog's eyes as he did so.

Then Grok'nar shoved him away and he staggered back. Neergrog glanced down at the blade in his chest, snarled at the now unarmed and unmoving Grok'nar, and raised his axe to take the traitor with him.

Something slammed into Neergrog from the side and sent him sprawling. He looked up in time to see the human step over him, grim-eyed, sword and armor splattered with blood, his eyes pale and pitiless as Grok'nar's.

***

Neergrog's remaining bodyguard wisely dropped his sword the moment Neergrog was dead, raising his hands and backing away from Kezzek. Kezzek growled, kicked the hobgoblin's sword away, glanced around. The remaining hobgoblins followed suit, dropping weapons and quickly distancing themselves.

"Who is in charge here now?" Kezzek said, wandering towards the blackened and smoldering audience chamber.

The bodyguard pointed towards a charred form lying beside the throne. "Firon gave the orders when Neergrog was away. Looks like he's not up for much now, so I suppose I'm the chieftain," he said in rough Common.

Grok'nar walked over to the self-proclaimed chieftain and looked him over. "You're not from here, I don't recognize you."

"Shro'kar, mercenary from the Furnace Tribe."

"Furnace Tribe? I thought the High King wiped them out for refusing to go to war with the Mountain Clans," Grok'nar said.

"Wiped out is an exaggeration, but only just. Those of us who weren't captured and used as orc-fodder scattered. This seemed as good a place as any." He pointed at Neergrog's body. "He was a paranoid butcher with delusions of power, but he paid well and wasn't about to risk himself - and thus myself - in an actual attack on Northmand."

"I imagine you have little love for the High King," Suniel said, looking up from where he sat wrapping a bandage around a wound on his arm.

"Slight understatement." Shro'kar snorted. "The High King wiped out my Tribe for trying to give him tactical advice on the inadvisability of a three-front war. He can have his Iron Ring thugs, march _them_ off into the Cracks or the Mist Tops to prove his dominance."

Harold exchanged glances with Suniel and Kezzek. Kezzek growled in thought as Harold walked over to whisper in his ear. "Sounds like this might be a good one to leave in charge here. If he agrees to halt the attacks on Northmand's mining operations and villages, we agree to leave him in charge..."

Kezzek turned to Grok'nar. "Is he chieftain by law?"

Grok'nar gave a lopsided grin. "The old chieftain is dead. Shro'kar here was the first to make claim, so he's chieftain unless someone else can kill him and make a new claim."

Kezzek nodded and turned to Harold. "It seems legal by the local customs." He walked over to Neergrog's body, picked up the old chieftain's axe, and tossed it to Shro'kar. The mercenary caught it deftly and quirked an eyebrow at Kezzek.

"Chief Shro'kar, I understand your people have been illegally raiding human settlements lately. With your cooperation, might I suggest the following for restitution..."

***

Suniel waved to Harold again, finally catching the archer's eye. Harold waited for everyone else to catch up.

"We need to stop," Suniel said. "Our escorts aren't taking the heat very well and, to be honest, I'm not either."

Harold looked at the half-dozen hobgoblins Shro'kar had sent to escort them out of hobgoblin lands as a show of good faith. Their honor guard were sagging in their saddles, looking on the verge of collapse. Grok'nar and the Greywarden rode up to them, Kezzek polishing his Greywarden gauntlet.

"Why we stopping?" Kezzek said.

Harold nodded to the hobgoblins. "I think we might need to travel at night. Otherwise we might end up carrying our escorts home."

Kezzek glanced at them and shrugged. "Works for me. Would probably help their horses too if ours took the restitution money now instead of at the border. Their mounts are much smaller breeds."

"I still don't see why we didn't just take everything. They probably got it all from raids on Northmand anyway," Harold said, glancing at the hobgoblin's bulging saddlebags.

"We don't need to go over that _again_," Suniel said. "It took us hours to get it all sorted out in the first place. Let's just rest here until tonight and head onwards tonight."

"Well..." Harold began, but Kezzek dismounted and motioned for the hobgoblins to do likewise. They looked up wearily, Grok'nar explained to them, and they almost fell off their horses in their haste to find the nearest shade.

***

Harold had chafed at the slow pace they were forced to take with their escorts along and was glad to be back in Northmand territory. The mission had gone off nearly without a hitch and the ambassador would be pleased.

_We need Northmand, anything we can do to sway them to our side,_ he thought. _Any ally against the Ashen Tower._

His mind fell to rehearsing how to best present this, to maximize the Crystal Tower's accomplishments on this journey in the telling of it.

He was lost in thought when Kezzek rode up to him, staring skywards. "Any idea what that is?"

Harold's eyes shot to the sky, scanning the area in the clear blue where Kezzek pointed. A moment later he saw it, still a black spec, but closing quickly. He groaned. "Why now?"

Suniel joined them, hand shielding his eyes against the sun. "Maybe if we talk to it this time, we can figure out what it is and why it wants Ming's amulet," the elf said, with a pointed glance in Harold's direction.

Harold sighed and reined in his horse. "All right, question it all you want. Nothing useful will come of it, I'd almost wager on it."

"Well, if you destroy this one too, we'll never know, will we?" Suniel said, waving to the thing and riding forward a bit as the Gem Eye descended. Grok'nar and Kezzek stayed back a ways with Harold.

"At least I'll never get bored traveling with you," Grok'nar said, squinting at the Gem Eye. "No shortage of strange and interesting things seem to seek you out."

Harold grunted.

The Gem Eye stopped ten feet away from Suniel and studied him for a long moment as they did the same.

Finally, it 'spoke' in a tinny-voice nearly identical to the last one's. "Sherguz werkal?"

The half-orc and the hobgoblin glanced at Harold. He rolled his eyes and said, "Now we get to start all over. Told you so."

Suniel raised his hand in a sign of peace. "Hail," he said in Common. "If you will speak with me, I have questions..."


----------



## arcanaman

From what  i've read almost ot the bottom of the first page  why didn't any of the characters ever get resurrevcted


----------



## Xyque

*Answer*



arcanaman said:


> From what i've read almost ot the bottom of the first page why didn't any of the characters ever get resurrevcted





I'll answer this one.  At this point in the campaign, we didn't have the resources to get anyone resurrected.  In our groups games when we are at lower levels the characters that die get discarded and a new characters are rolled.  At higher levels when we can afford it, we get our resurrections as needed.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 7 Crunch

-Note: No posts until today since this is the first day I've been able to get enworld to load since Saturday.-

I actually went into session 8 a bit on the last one because I had poorly marked on my notes where session 7 ended and 8 started. Session 7 ended with them dividing up the hobgoblin's "restitution."

Not too much crunch on this one. I remember the plan going pretty much flawlessly, with the help of Suniel reaching level 5 and getting some serious firepower boosts, Grok'nar's previous knowledge of the outpost's layout, and just a solid plan.

I don't remember it's name, but the Grave Mist spell from the PHB II nailed down the reinforcements from the barracks and any who actually made it through were barely alive. Suniel's initial fireball vaporized Neergrog's 6th level sorcerer pretty much instantly. The bodyguards and Neergrog could dish out some pretty big hits, but they went down so fast it wasn't really an issue.

After the fight was over, they kept on waiting for "the other shoe to drop" so to speak, since they aren't used to anything ever being easy in my games. They kept on expecting a huge wave of reinforcements to show up, cracking jokes about it as they dealt with the aftermath and were genuinely surprised when they never came. Just to be sure, they all locked themselves in Neergrog's sleeping chambers with someone on watch for the night.

The summer heat got to the party on the way back (non-rangers getting beaten down on Fort Saves) so they took to travelling at night.

Mad Lib time! Note: spoilers are actually spoilers, view at your own risk!

On to Session 8, featuring an eye-opening conversation with a 



Spoiler



metal orb


, interesting encounters with 



Spoiler



metallic statuary


, little known facts about 



Spoiler



Felskein


, 



Spoiler



goblin


 shenanigans, and even a showdown with 



Spoiler



superman assassins


!


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 8, Part 1

"Give amulet! Iron Sky demands!" the Gem Eye repeated, gesticulating in what it probably thought was a threatening manner with its tiny pincer.

"The amulet belongs to Iron Sky?" Suniel said, moving his hand to where Ming's amulet rested under his robe. "The one I mentioned belonged to a companion of ours, a warrior woman."

"The amulet is Iron Sky's. We demand it. Demand!"

"How do you know the amulet belongs to Iron Sky?" Harold said.

"They are ours, give them to us!"

"Them?  We haven't even said we have any yet, we just said we might know of one," Suniel said, debating whether or not to show the amulet to the Gem Eye. It seemed pretty worked up already at just the mention of it.

"We know you have! Give us amulets!" the Gem Eye said, darting between and around the four companions, examining them from all directions.

"Amulets? Are there more than one?" Harold said, drawing a questioning glance from Suniel.

The Gem Eye immediately flew over to him. "They are ours. Amulets are Iron Sky's. Give us now!"

"Pretty big threats from such a little thing. Apparently it doesn't know the fate of the last one," Grok'nar said. He made a fist, whistled as he jabbed a finger into it, then dropped the fist open and made a clanging noise. Kezzek growled, rubbing one of his tusks as he squinted at the Gem Eye.

Suniel sighed and pulled out Ming's amulet. "Does the amulet look like this?"

The Gem Eye was on him in a second, bobbing around him, pincer reaching towards the amulet. "Amulets are Iron Sky's. Give now!"

"Or what? You'll pinch us?"  Grok'nar said, shaking his head as he dismounted and led his shaggy horse to the shade of a nearby outcropping.  "It's way too hot for this."

The Gem Eye ignored him, its eye spinning as it stared at the hematite amulet that sat warm in Suneil's hand. "I don't know how Ming really came by it, so maybe it does belong to this Iron Sky," Suniel said.

Kezzek cleared his throat. "Well, she _was_ a thief and murderer."

"That doesn't mean the amulets belong to this thing though," Harold said.

"Amulets?" Suniel said, quirking an eyebrow at Harold. The archer reached under his uniform and armor and pulled out another amulet, this one a piece of quartz with specks of light dancing inside it. It took a moment before Suniel recognized it.

"Ours! Give to Iron Sky!" the Gem Eye almost wailed, flitting over to Harold and grabbing the amulet's chain with its pincer. Harold stared the thing in the 'eye' with a surprised/bemused expression, calmly reached down, and broke the thing's pincer arm off with a twist.

"Give to us!" The Gem Eye said, pointing its broken wire-arm at the amulet.

"Getting threatened and ordered around by this piece of rusty scrap is getting old," Harold said, casting a weary look at Suniel and tossing the already disintegrating pincer away. His hand drifted towards the sword on his back.

Suniel raised his hand. "Hold Harold. Where did you get the amulet?" 

Harold shrugged. "The monk-thing gave it to me before he wandered off."

"And you didn't tell us about it, why?"

"Didn't seem important."

Suniel met Harold's level expression for a long moment before he turned back to the Gem Eye. "Both of these amulets belong to Iron Sky?"

"Yes. Iron Sky demands!"

"How do you know they are Iron Sky's?"

"Iron Sky demands! Ours!"

"They were taken from you?"

"Demands!"

"You lost them?"

"Give to us!"

"What claim do you have on them?" Suniel said, even his elven patience wearing thin.

"Iron Sky demands them!"

"Are you saying they belong to you just because you say they do?"

"Give to Iron Sky. Iron Sky claims! Demands!" The thing's wire-arm came perilously close to jabbing Suniel in the eye as he dodged out of the way of the thing's agitated and increasingly erratic movements.

"What is Iron Sky?" Kezzek said, nudging his horse closer to the Gem Eye.

"Iron Sky demands the amulets! Iron Sky claims the Thousand Skylands! Give to us!"

"Thousand Skylands?" Kezzek, Harold, and Suniel said in unison.

For the first time since it had arrived the thing went still. Suniel could almost hear gears grinding inside its rusty casing. It looked between the three of them, gem-eye spinning slowly, then floated over to a rock. It tapped on it a few times, then drifted down to the dust and prodded a couple holes.

"I think it broke," Grok'nar said from where he reclined in the shade with a wineskin. "Couple gears came loose somewhere in there."

Suniel dismounted and walked over to it, curiosity inflamed, Harold and Kezzek not far behind.

Finally, the Gem Eye turned to Suniel.

"What place is this?" it said, it's tinny voice as quiet as Suniel had ever heard it.

Harold shook his head. "This is a waste of time, we should get going."

"This is the Ragged Hills, near the edge of Northmand," Suniel said, ignoring the archer.

The Gem Eye floated quietly for another long moment. "No, what place is _this_?" It gestured in a broad arc.

"We just told it!" Harold said. "I think the hobgoblin is right, this thing is damaged."

Suniel ignored Harold, trying to make sense of what the thing was asking. "This place is the Ragged Hills. Nearby is Northmand and Mirror Lake. The Mist Tops are the mountains across Mirror Lake. South of Northmand is the Greenpath River that winds between Gnarlbend Forest and the Stoop Oaks until it reaches the Crystal Deep-"

"No no! What place is _this_?" It flew up and spun in a circle, wire-arm waving as if to encompass the whole world.

_The whole world? _Suniel thought, _or just all of...._ Suddenly it came to him.

"Felskein?"

The thing flew to Suniel, gem-eye spinning an inch from his face. "This is Felskein? Tell meee!"

Suniel nodded, confused. "This is Felskein. Where else would it be? What else is there?"

"Felskein! This is Felskein! Found Felskein!" the Gem Eye shot up and down, wire-arm flitting about. If Suniel didn't know any better he'd think it was dancing.

"All right, that proves it, this thing needs to be put out of our misery," Harold said, pulling his bow out of his quiver.

"Felskeiiiiiiin!" the Gem Eye practically shrieked, shooting up into the sky at an amazing speed. Several hundred feet up, it suddenly stopped and shot back down towards them again.

It floated over to Suniel and extended its wire-arm. "Amulet?" it said, sounding almost hopeful.

Suniel shook his head. "It doesn't belong to you simply because you say so. I think you have no more claim to it than we do."

The its gem-eye turned slowly as it regarded him. Then it turned, drifted towards Harold for a moment, seemed to think better of approaching the now-armed archer, and stopped.

It was still for another long moment, then, without warning shot up into the air again. "Found Felskeiiiiiin!"

"Well, that was... different." Grok'nar said, now chewing on some hardtack. Kezzek grunted and joined Grok'nar in the shade, taking an offered biscuit from the hobgoblin.

Harold and Suniel continued to stare at the thing as it shrunk to a black speck and then disappeared entirely. Suniel was just about to look away when he saw it appear again.

_No, there's two now,_ he thought, squinting and shading his eyes. _Except they're moving different. Like they're bigger maybe. It almost looks like... _

He realized what he was looking at with a start and shot a glance at Harold, the archer's expression telling Suniel that he'd come to the same conclusion.

Suniel chanted a word of warding as Harold drew an arrow and shouted to the others. "They come from the skies, prepare for battle!"


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 8, Part 2

As Grok'nar and Kezzek leapt to their feet and drew their weapons, Harold stared up at the rapidly descending forms, the flap and crack of their robes in the wind now audible. He took a few shots at them as they plummeted, not expecting much effect due to his target's extreme speed and distance, and spoke to Suniel without looking at him. "That new spell you pulled out when we were fighting Neergrog, the fire one, how far away can you-"

Suniel - who had been simply watching the constructs descended - suddenly shouted a short phrase and flicked his wrist. One of the iron giants disappeared in a detonation of flame.

A split second later it appeared out of the bottom of the aerial blast in a rain of rapidly disintegrating metal fragments and drifting bits of smoldering cloth. It was still intact, though its whole surface glowed a dull red.

"What are we fighting?" Kezzek said. "And why?"

Harold spared him a glance. Kezzek stood with a quiver and a strange metallic bow that bore a striking resemblance to his quor'rel or whatever he called it - but he wasn't firing. Grok'nar stood beside him, still chewing on hard tack as he watched the things descend.

"Start firing, there's no time to explain!" Harold shouted back, sending an arrow flying through a patch of red-hot metal on the one Suniel had hit. The construct's eyes started to glow. "They're hostile!"

"So far you seem to be the hostile ones, I haven't seen any-" Kezzek started. Then he disappeared in an explosion of energy as one of the thing's eye-lances connected.

The plummeting figures' free fall came to a sudden and seemingly impossible stop about 20' off the ground. Eight smaller figures dropped from the robe of the one that hadn't been in Suniel's blast, blade arms outstretched as they landed kneeling, eyes flaring with light.

***

Kezzek charged past Grok'nar with a roar, quor'rel in hand, still smoldering and blackened from the blast. Grok'nar bit off a final bite of the hardtack, wishing he had time to grab his wineskin and wash it down. He sighed and ran after Kezzek.

A hail of energy lances shot around him, one striking his raised shield and staggering him with the shock of its impact. Then the small, black-swathed figures were all around them.

One leapt high into the air and descended with its blade outstretched. He knocked it out of the air with his shield, jarred by how heavy the thing was despite its size, and spun to parry the blade of another one, jerking his head to the side just in time as its eyes flared and a beam of energy flew past his ear. He swung his sword and landed a solid blow on the thing's neck, almost dislocating his shoulder with the force of the impact. _Felt like it's wearing plate mail... under the cloth? While leaping like that? What are these things?_

There was no time to ponder his questions further as the one he had knocked to the ground earlier slammed into his back sent him rolling in the dirt, another explosion rattling his armor.

***

Suniel blew the one charging at him apart just before it reached him and leapt away as it exploded in a shower of metal. As he pulled himself to his feet, there was a crackling boom as Harold finished off the still-glowing bigger one. The other flew after Harold as the archer rode into the hills. Two of the smaller ones pursued as well, leaping from rock to rock and bounding with surprising speed.

A blast struck Suniel full in the chest, sending him flying back. The magic runes of his warding spell glowed brightly as he stood, trailing wisps of smoke, and unleashed a blast of energy against his new, rapidly approaching assailant.

***

Harold ducked and swung his horse to the side as one leapt off a boulder and hurled itself at him, its blade passing inches from his head. He put two arrows into it while it was still in the air. It hit a boulder hard and exploded. 

His horse reared as the other was suddenly in front of him.  He jerked the reins to the side and nocked another arrow as his horse flew down another gully. The little one bounded after them, throwing another bolt of energy, but Harold - even while aiming at the little one and dodging its blasts - had half-an-eye to the sky, wondering where the big one had disappeared to...

***

Kezzek smashed his gauntlet into the thing's 'face,' feeling metal crumple satisfyingly. He kicked the thing backwards and buried a blade into its chest with a roar. The gout of blood that his orc side hungered for never came. Instead, he felt a jolt run up his blade and the thing blew apart. He managed to turn his face away, but shards of metal tore into his body. Stunned, he dropped to one knee.

He turned in a daze to see Grok'nar decapitate one that's head was already askew. Kezzek was about to shout a warning, but the second the thing's head was off its shoulders, Grok'nar stepped back and braced himself, turning his body so his shield took the worst of the blast. Grok'nar winked to him, strode over, pulled Kezzek to his feet, and they turned to finish off the last few.

***

"You two ok?" Suniel said, walking through the char and scar of the battlefield.

Kezzek grunted as he pulled another metal sliver from his arm, watching it disintegrate to dust as he held it. "Probably a good thing they don't do that while they're in you," Kezzek mumbled.

Grok'nar was wandering about, eyes cast down as he searched the ground intently. Suniel was about to ask what he was looking for when Grok'nar said, "Ahah!" He picked his wineskin up from the dirt, brushed it off, and took a deep drought.

"Hardtack," he said by way of explanation.

"Where is Harold?" Suniel said, eyes scanning the hills the archer and his pursuers had disappeared into. He thought he might have heard distant, muffled explosions. "He had three after him."

Grok'nar shrugged. "I'm sure he's-" Grok'nar paused as a boom echoed through the hills, followed by silence. "-well, there you go. As long as he wasn't dumb enough to be hugging the thing when he killed it..."

Not long after, Harold came riding into view. The satisfaction Suniel often saw in Harold's bearing after battle wasn't there, instead his look was questioning... disquieted? as he met Suniel's eyes.

"Are you all right?" Suniel said.

"Unscathed. I found something though and I'm not sure what to make of it." Harold said, glancing back into the hills. "I think you better come have a look."

"What? What is it?" Suniel said.

"I'm not sure. As I said, you should come have a look."

Grok'nar quirked an eyebrow and Kezzek grunted, but a moment later they were all riding after Harold, back into the hills.

None of them noticed the tiny speck that had hovered high above through the course of the fight and only now disappeared into the vast sky.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 8, Part 3

-Late post due post-move lack of internets-


"It doesn't look much like the others," Grok'nar said, prodding the finely carved iron statue with his foot. "Looks like the iron or whatever on this one is naturaly brown, not rusty like the others."

"Mmm, much finer workmanship too. Far closer to human proportions than the others," Suniel said.

"I say we leave it," Harold said. "I don't trust anything that's related to these things."

Kezzek growled as he stared at the statue. "Any of you heard of the 'Thousand Skylands' that that orb mentioned? Skylands?"

There was a long silence as they looked at the statue and each other. "I'm taking it back to study it," Suniel finally said. "Maybe we can learn more about these things. Could be useful if they keep attacking us, if for no other reason."

"Whatever," Harold said, walking towards his horse. "As long as get going again. We've wasted enough time with these things. It's going to be noon tomorrow at the earliest that we get back to Laketide as it is."

Grok'nar shrugged. "Why the hurry?  Not like they gave us a deadline for knifing Neergrog."

Harold mounted and cast a level look at the hobgoblin. "Every day we wait is another day the Ashen Tower's influence expands, spreading its darkness and corruption, another day that the Crystal Towers stands alone against it. Every day is-"

Grok'nar raised his hands and backed away. "All right, all right, I get it already. Sheesh."

Suniel led his horse to the statue and stared at it as he figured out how he was going to get it all the way to Laketide. Kezzek knelt, strained, and managed to roll the thing over. "What do you suppose these shallow indentations all over it are? Hands, forehead, head, neck, chest, waist, feet..." He growled and tugged at a tusk. "Almost like something should fit in them."

***

"It is done, Neergrog is dead and The Crystal Towers has installed a new chief who favors peace with Northmand," Harold said, barely waiting for Lieutenant Laris to sit down and pull out his quill.

Unfortunately, Grok'nar was lounging outside the door and came in to lean against the door frame. "Huh, I didn't see any towers - crystal or otherwise - around there. I thought it was the Greywarden that installed the new chief."

Harold ignored him, hoping he'd go away. "Anyway, the threat is vanquished and Northmand shouldn't be troubled by the hobgoblins for some time."

Grok'nar grunted. "Long enough for the High King to hear about it and send his Iron Ring thugs to kill Shro'kar and replace him with a new crony anyway."

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Harold said, turning to Grok'nar.

Grok'nar gave his lopsided grin back. "Nope, not really."

Harold sighed and turned back to Laris. The young Lieutenant paused his parchment scribbling and looked up. "How did you manage to eliminate Neergrog? Grok'nar had told us he rarely left his lair."

"We put together a plan that got us inside-"

"_I_ put together a plan," Grok'nar said.

"-where we disabled most of the hobgoblins with magic-"

"Elven wizardly magic that is."

Harold glared at Grok'nar, who was busy chewing on a fingernail. "-and I killed Neergrog."

"That's true at least, though not until I'd already stabbed him a bit," Grok'nar said, staring at a hangnail.

"Well, no matter how you did it, you have Northmand's thanks, all of you," Laris said, folding the parchment on his desk, dribbling some wax on it, and stamping it. "Give this to Captain Donnolan in Northmand, he will see that the Council hears of it and rewards you appropriately."

"Reward?" Grok'nar said, glancing up from his fingernails.

"It was nothing," Harold said. "The Crystal Towers needs no recompense for the honor of helping her allies."

"I'll take the Crystal Towers' share if that's the case."

Continuing to ignore the hobgoblin, Harold said, "we also were attacked by some strange iron constructs."

"Iron constructs? In the Ragged Hills?" Laris said, eyebrows raising in surprise. "Have the Iron Tribes hired some artificers to craft them war machines now?"

Grok'nar snorted. "Not likely."

"So you've never run into them before?" Harold said. "We've run into them a couple times now."

Laris shook his head. "No, very odd. Be sure to mention it to the Captain while you're there. Sounds like something he should know about."

Harold nodded. "Is there anything else the Crystal Towers can do for you?"

"Well," Laris said and paused. "Nothing as heroic as assaulting another hobgoblin outpost, but there are some dispatches that you could take to Northmand with you when you go. Save one of my men a trip."

"Of course," Harold said, already trying to figure out how he could get some time _alone_ with Captain Donnolan to tell of what happened without any... interruptions.

***

"12 gold pieces? How do three goblins spend 12 gold in a place like this in a week?" Suniel said, incredulous.

"More like one goblin in five days." Guntl winced. "And that's not the worst of it. There's a farmer named Terrik-"

"I know about that, I already paid him 5 gold in restitution for two dead dogs and some stolen chickens. When I find Stabber..."

"Good luck with that, he disappeared yesterday and haven't seen him since."

Suniel sighed. "Well, maybe its best that he wandered off. If his behavior continues like this every time I need to tend to something... Oh well, time to deal with that later. Help me get this statue into my carriage. I want to study it more carefully in private."

***

Suniel leaned back and rubbed his eyes in the candlelight, about to give up on trying to find anything in his tomes about Iron Sky and the statue they had left behind. _Maybe it deactivated somehow when they were carrying it. Maybe it was one of them and it malfunctioned. Maybe Harold cobbled it together out of the remains of the ones he destroyed just to vex me._

He leaned to blow out the guttering candle, figuring he was done for the night, when he thought he saw something glint on a smooth, square spot on the thing's forehead. _That almost looked like a rune for..._ Acting quickly on his hunch, he leaned over the statue and chanted, placing his finger on the center of the square as he finished uttering the last syllable.

The mage-rune for _Life_ flared for a moment on it, then slowly faded. Suniel waited a moment to see if his intuition had proved correct. He had just about given up when the statue's eyes began to glow.

***

"I'm sorry I had to get you up in the middle of the night like this, but I... found some interesting things out regarding the statue," Suniel said, looking back and forth at the bleary-eyed and rumpled human, half-orc, and hobgoblin that stood outside his carriage. "Now, don't be alarmed, but..."

He turned to the carriage. "Keeper, come out."

Kezzek turned to the carriage wearily, noticing Harold's expression of annoyance and Grok'nar's of curiosity. Then the carriage door opened and the statue stepped out, eyes flaring.

Kezzek and the other two reached for weapons that they weren't wearing, cursing and stepping back.

Suniel stepped towards them, raising his arms palcatingly. "Wait, it's not going to attack. Hold!"

The iron statue nodded to them, eyes glowing and flickering. "I am called Keeper," it said in a deep, faintly metallic voice, its brown iron lips moving in a poor simulacrum of the movements of speech. "The Master has asked me to repeat what I have been able to glean from my fragile connection to the Nexus."

"The Master?" Grok'nar said.

Keeper turned to the hobgoblin. "That is correct. The Master brought me to life."

Harold glanced at Suniel. "And how did he do that?"

Suniel cut Keeper off before he could answer. "That's not important. Keeper, tell them what you can remember."

The statue nodded to him. "It is not memory, it is access to the Nexus. I am Keeper, designed to keep the Seeking Stones."

Harold's eyes shot to Suniel. "You didn't give this thing your amulet stone did you? You did, didn't you?"

"It's none of your concern, but I did," the wizard said, gesturing to Keeper again. "Just listen."

"I am a creation of Iron Sky, crafted somewhere among the seven of the Thousand Skylands that Iron Sky controls. Rumors say that thousands of years ago the Thousand Skylands and Felskein were together, but that Felskein suddenly disappeared. It is known as the Lost Continent and to the peoples of the Thousand Skylands it is little more than legend and myth." Keeper glanced at the dirt at his feet. "Except that I now stand upon it and converse with its peoples."

"What are these Thousand Skylands and this Iron Sky?" Kezzek said, moving to the side to examine the statue from another angle.

Keeper turned its head, odd, glowing eyes following him. "The Thousand Skylands are the Islands of the Sky, forever flying high above the Endless Sands. As for Iron Sky, all I can access from the Nexus is that it controls seven Skylands - and seeks to acquire more."

Grok'nar tapped on Keeper's chest. "Can you feel that?"

"Feel?" Keeper said, head cocking to the side as it regarded the hobgoblin.

"And what is the Nexus?" Kezzek said.

Keeper paused for a long moment. "I do not know."

Harold stared at it. "You don't know what the Nexus is is? You just said the Nexus was how you knew what you just told us!"

"My access to it is weak." Keeper tapped his forehead, on a smooth spot where an indentation had been earlier. "I draw in large part on the power of the Seeking Stones I contain. While Keeping only one stone and with... something out there that interferes with my access to the Nexus, there is much that I do not know, that I do not have the power to access."

"Well, you can't have mine, that's for damn sure," Harold said. He turned to Suniel. "How do you know you can trust this thing?"

Suniel glanced at the statue for a long moment. "I don't," he said softly. "I just have a feeling..."

"Why is Iron Sky even after these amulets? What's so special about them?" Harold said, turning on Keeper.

Keeper was silent for a long moment. "I do not know."

Harold threw his arms into the air and walked back towards the inn. "Wake me up when it has something useful to tell us."

Kezzek watched him go, then turned back. Grok'nar yawned, stretched, and patted the statue on the shoulder. "Night, statue thingy. I'm going to go enjoy my big comfortable pile of hay while I have it."

The hobgoblin disappeared into the stables and Kezzek turned to Suniel. "As interesting as this all is, unless this Keeper... remembers more information about these Iron Sky constructs' questionable activities, I'm not sure it's even worth reporting to the Greywarden Enclave. Let me know if any more information surfaces."

Suniel nodded. As Kezzek headed back to his room, the wizard and his strange new companion stood together in silence.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 8, Part 4

It was the racket outside that woke Suniel up. By the time he got outside, Guntl was sitting on Stabber's chest, prying a dagger from the goblin's fingers.

"It's mine, I bought it!" Stabber said as Guntl finally got it free.

"You lost ownership when you cut me, goblin," Guntl said, brushing the blood from a cut on his cheek away with his sleeve.

"What's all this about?" Kezzek said, striding out of the inn, Greywarden gauntlet shining in the sunlight. Apparently, Stabber knew what it was, as he stopped struggling and went limp.

Suniel walked over and looked down. "Let him up Guntl, I need to talk with him."

Guntl complied, tucking Stabber's makeshift dagger into his belt. Stabber stood, glancing quickly between the Greywarden, the orc, and Suniel. "I didn't do it!"

"Didn't do what?" Kezzek said.

"Anything they accused me of?"

"Who?"

"A farmer found a couple chickens missing and two of his dogs dead," Suniel said, not looking away from Stabber. "They said it was a goblin that did it."

"It was Lunt!" Stabber said, gesturing towards Lunt's box on the back of the carriage. Faint snoring could be heard from within.

"Please," Guntl said, shaking his head. "Killing or stealing is too much work for Lunt. I haven't seen him do anything harder than eat too much since I've been here."

Kezzek growled and looked at Suniel. "Is this goblin under your protection?"

Stabber bit his lip and his eyes got big as he glanced between Suniel and the huge half-orc. "That depends on whether the goblin in question is acting in accordance to the agreement we had."

Stabber turned to run, but Kezzek was faster, grabbing the goblin and hoisting him into the air with his gauntleted fist. A blade came out of nowhere, raked across the metal, and flashed in front of Kezzek's face, but the Greywarden barely flinched. Instead he backhanded the goblin, threw him to the ground, and knelt on the thrashing goblin's back. He pried Stabber's razor free and tossed it aside. "Assaulting a Greywarden. Serious offense."

At that, Stabber went limp again and began crying. Suniel sighed and put an hand on Kezzek's shoulder. "I paid the restitution for the farmer even though he had no real, hard proof. I ask for Stabber to be given one last chance before he is turned over to _Greywarden justice_." He put special emphasis on the last to be sure Stabber heard it.

The Greywarden grunted, stood up, pulled his journal from his pack, and began writing. Stabber shuffled away and stood, glowering at Kezzek and Suniel. "I will do as you ask, wizard, but on probation. He must remain within 50 feet of you or your carriage for two weeks or he will be assumed guilty of assault on a Greywarden as well as being an immediate suspect for any other crimes under review at the time."

Harold walked out of the inn and took in the situation quickly. "I see we're all up.  Good, saves me some time.  We should head out to Northmand before it gets too hot out here."  He turned to Guntl.  "What happened to your face?"

At that moment, Grok'nar walked out of the stables, picking bits of straw off of his armor, and glanced down. "Hey, look here. Free razor!"

***

Long strands of lanterns were again hung between Northmand's walls, decorated here and there with mini bundles of wheat and strands of flowers. The harvest festival was nearing its climax and the spaces between Northmand's towering walls were literally packed with people drinking and dancing. Music from dozens of troupes mixed with laughter and raucous singing from every tavern.

Harold didn't notice any of it. Instead he stood on the wall, staring north towards Mirror Lake in the slowly fading afternoon light, his thoughts gloomy and distant. He barely heard Kezzek come up behind him, only registering the half-orc's presence when he leaned on the battlements next to him.

"How'd it go?" Harold said, not looking away from the lake.

Kezzek growled. "The Inspectors said they were still searching for the Assassin. They've gotten scattered reports of hooded, suspicious looking men, but with all the festival masks people are wearing, they've pretty much got the investigation on hold until the Harvest Festival is over. How about you?"

"The Ambassador got back while we were still out in the Ragged Hills and headed out again. We just missed him. There's some festival barge that left this morning and won't be back until sunset tonight. We should gather everyone up and head north to the docktown to meet them."

Kezzek glanced over. "You seem worried. You still thinking that Assassins are here to kill your Ambassador?"

Harold almost laughed. "Who else is there here important enough to be worth sending an Assassin after?"

There was a long silence at that, not broken for several minutes when a guard found them. "Captain Donnolan will see you know."

Kezzek nodded to the man and turned to Harold. "Come, let's gather the others and deliver our report. After that there should still be time to reach the docktown to meet your Ambassador."

He turned and headed towards the inner keep. A few minutes later, Harold followed, his feeling of disquiet grown stronger rather than soothed by the Greywarden's words.

***

"Excellent work with the Chieftain," Captain Donnolan said, hefting a bulging pouch onto the table with a _clink_. "As promised, here is the reward for the four of you."

Harold glanced at the pouch and made a dismissive gesture, his mouth opening.  Whatever he was going to say, died before it could be spoken and Grok'ner grabbed the pouch, pulled a stool up to a smaller side table, tossed the pouch onto it, spilling its contents across the wood. Even Kezzek whistled at the warm glow of the platinum. Kezzek had never seen so much money in one place before.

As the hobgoblin happily began counting, the other three turned back to the Captain, Harold with a sigh.

"Don't mind him," Suniel said. "He doesn't understand the finer points of polite behavior."

"Or even most of the general ones," Harold said with a sour glance. Grok'nar grinned at him.

Donnolan waved it away. "Doesn't bother me, it's what you accomplished that really matters. If what you boys did buys us even a month of peace, it will be worth every platinum coin on that table. There's a new barracks going in at Laketide and we're building new forts near all the mines.  If we have enough time, we may even get more done."

"Glad to be of service to our allies," Harold said, with a sharp glance at the hobgoblin.  Grok'nar seemed to be busy counting and sorting.

"There was something else," Suniel said. "We were attacked by something else while out in the Ragged Hills. We've discovered that they are known as Iron Sky, rusty iron constructs sent from the Thousand Skylands to-"

In later conversations, they would mostly piece together what happened next.

It was as if time froze. They were still conscious, aware of what was going on about them as the air seemed to turn solid, a tossed platinum halted in mid-air, a drop of ink from Donnolan's quill frozen in mid-splash as it struck parchment.

None of them were able to turn and look to see the figure that entered, but they all agreed that it was _golden_, shining like a beacon as it glided into the room. "You will tell no one of this," it said to all of them, voice soft and melodic and powerful, almost a whisper. It moved to Captain Donnolan, wrapped and hooded in shining cloth of gold. A brief whisper in the Captains ear and it turned, passing quickly from the room.

Kezzek nearly fell over, the small sounds in the room suddenly pronounced and sharp after the absolute quiet of a moment before. Donnolan looked up at them with a look of puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I forget, did I already give you Northmand's thanks for your latest work with the hobgoblins? Oh yes, that's right, you were saying something about your trip back..."

"N... no, no," Kezzek said, his tongue feeling thick. He leaned over the gape-jawed hobgoblin and swiped the coins into the bag. "It wasn't anything, uh, worth talking about."

The four of them exchanged a quick series of glances and they all made their way hastily to the door. "We have urgent business to attend to that just came up," Suniel said. Donnolan seemed puzzled, but waved good-naturedly.

"Be sure to enjoy the festival!"

***

They rode in silence for a while, which suited Grok'nar fine after nearly an hour of sometimes heated discussion. Then Kezzek had to bring it up again. "You're sure no one got a look at him?"

"I had the feeling it was a her," Suniel said, eyes distant. "I don't know how I know, but it just... felt like a her."

"Didn't know you were a skilled enough wizard to cop a feel on someone powerful enough to stop time," Grok'nar said.

Suniel shot him a sharp look, then half-smiled. "You know what I mean."

"What sort of thing even _has_ the power to stop time?" Harold said, brow furrowed. "It could have just killed us where we stood and we couldn't have done a thing about it."

They all glanced at Suniel, their resident expert on magic. Eventually he shrugged. "Something more powerful than anyone I've ever... met."

There was something in the wizard's pause the made Grok'nar suspicious. The others didn't seem to have noticed though, so Grok'nar shrugged it off.

The docktown was larger than it had looked from Northmand, stretching across a mile or more of Laketide beachfront. Grok'nar turned to Harold. "Do you even know where we're going?"

The others glanced at Harold as well but he just shook his head. "Look, it's a huge barge with almost a hundred people on it. It can't be that hard to miss."

Grok'nar had his doubts, but everyone was in a touchy enough mood already that he didn't say anything about it. They rode through the sunset docktown, the streets nearly empty, the people all probably at their homes or the festival.

Not long after entering the town, they reached the docks themselves.

"Look, there it is right there," Harold said, gesturing to a small lantern-lit dock a hundred yards away along the shoreline. A small procession of people stood on the dock, staring out at the lake.

"Seems a bit small for a welcoming party," Grok'nar said. "You sure it's not that one way up there with all the light and milling crowds of people?"

"No, he's right, this seems to be the one," Suniel said, glancing out across Mirror Lake. "You can see the lights of the barge right out there and it's heading this way."

They all followed the elf's gaze. A huge double decked barge was drifting towards the nearby dock, brightly lit with figures moving about on its deck and the faint sounds of music drifting across the water. "You see," Kezzek said. "Here comes your Ambassador, safe and-"

Just then, a shadow seemed to engulf the barge and it burst into flame.

Harold swore and turned to spur his horse but Grok'nar caught something moving out of the corner of his eye and called out a warning. From the shadowy streets and alleys of the warehouses, shops, and store-houses around them, six pale, dark cloaked figures materialized all around them, feral grins on their faces.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 8 Crunch

This session actually had very little "crunch" since it was mostly a roleplaying session.

The only fight - against Iron Sky near the beginning of the session - went much easier than the last one. Amazing how a couple levels can turn a fight like that from "don't know how we're going to survive" to "dispatch them easily."

I've also been leaving out the mechanically-necessary but plot-irrelevent bits like selling loot and buying/enchanting equipment. That all took a decent chunk of time when they got to Northmand.

The discussion about the whole "time stop" incident was quite involved as well. They were a bit... unsettled by the whole deal, in- and out-of-character.

Of course, the barge/"superman assassin" cliff hanger happened at the end of the session in-game, just as it did here.

And now, for madlibs!

Read Session 9, featuring:

Huge swarms of 



Spoiler



bats


, 



Spoiler



partial


 victory over the 



Spoiler



'superman assassins'


 and their 



Spoiler



true nature


 revealed, a 



Spoiler



murder


 investigation that ends in mass 



Spoiler



thievery


, the case of the missing 



Spoiler



minstrel


, a strange trade: 1 



Spoiler



ressurection


 for 500 



Spoiler



acres of land


 - and finally, the return of the 



Spoiler



gem eye


. Whew!


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 9, Part 1

-I'm off my regular job for the next two weeks, so I'll see if I can get a few extra updates in.  23 sessions is really alot when you only get through 1 a month or so and we're still pretty much in the prologue to the _real_ stuff...-

Terrak smiled and stepped into the faint light of the single streetlamp that guttered in front of a nearby fisherman's shop. He pointed at the one the Master had fought before, a proud looking human with a bow. "You're too late, but the Master doesn't want you interfering anyway."

"No!" the human shouted, an arrow nocked and loosed in a blur. Terrak grinned wider and sidestepped it, but staggered back as a second slammed into his shoulder. He snarled and snapped it off, the others converging like a pack of wolves.

The archer loosed half-a-dozen arrows and then was through the fray and riding full-tilt up the dock. _We'll get him when he comes back, _Terrak thought, turning to the plate-armored hobgoblin. He launched forward, throwing a wild swing at the hobgoblin's head, but the hobgoblin ducked and Terrak felt a jarring impact as a longsword sliced him almost in half. He doubled over, spitting blood and snarling.

The hobgoblin pulled his sword out and turned away.

"Watch out Grok'nar, they aren't human!" The elf called, gesturing to the blackened and smoking spot where Rogun's arrow-riddled body was burning away.

The one called Grok'nar spun, shield rising, but Terrak was faster. His kick connected with the hobgoblin's side, breastplate crunching as the hobgoblin flew through the net-covered wall of the nearby shop. Terrak grinned and turned to take the elf, meeting the wizard's eyes just as the elf finished a long incantation, slender fingers uncurling in Terrak's direction.

Terrak tried to leap aside, but he felt something snap inside where the hobgoblin had slashed him and his leap turned into a stagger. Something crackled as it buried into his chest. He snarled at the wizard and lunged, but there was a flare of heat deep inside Terrak's torso, exploding through him from the inside.

The world swirled into a mass of churning shadows as Terrak's spirit fled its ruined body. He drifted over the battle, shadows congealing into rough forms. He seethed with impotent rage as he watched as another of the pack was taken down by blade and blast. Swearing vengeance, Terrak's tattered soul fled through the otherworld.

***

"Out of the way!" Harold shouted, charging through the crowd fleeing the dock and the flaming barge that was on a collision course with it. He thrust his spurs into the warhorse's flanks as it reached the end of the dock and it leapt, hooves leaving dock and hitting deck with a clatter. Harold sprung from his horse, took two steps, and nearly fell as the barge slammed into the dock, planks and splintered railings flying in all directions.

The deck was a chaos of flame and panic and corpses. He scanned the crowd, looking for the Ambassador, roughly pushing away the terrified courtiers that mobbed him. Then, through the madness, he saw the glint of a medal.

Honor Guard Jerald's body lay by the stairs leading below decks, drenched in blood, his weapons sheathed. Harold swore and ran below, ignoring the heat and smoke that billowed up at him. Coughing, he ran through the smoke, stepping over fallen chairs and tables and ducking to check the bodies that lay sprawled here and there in the barge's hold.

He stumbled into a hallway lined with doors, all closed but the one at the end. Several bodies in the livery of Northmand and the Crystal Towers were leaned against the walls or lay in pools of blood, swords buried in each other's guts or loose on the deck. He rushed into the room and saw the Ambassador's body sitting with the gaping red grin of a slit throat, the body of Northmand's High Priest sagging against the wall next to him like a rag-doll.

With an inarticulate cry, Harold grabbed the Ambassador's body and ran blindly from the burning barge. He slung the body across his wild-eyed warhorse's saddle and sent his horse flying through the mob that churned on the dock. People cried out and swore and hurled themselves aside, but Harold was beyond caring.

Suniel and the hobgoblin and the Greywarden still battled the assassins, grim figures squaring off against the feral, hunched forms of their assailants. Harold rode by them at a full gallop. A ragged figure threw itself at him from the roof of a building as he passed and, on instinct, he ducked, bow in hand and arrow loosed before the figure hit ground. His arrow took the assassin in the forehead and hurled it backwards.

He didn't wait to see if his first shot had finished it, putting arrows into it as he rode away until its body collapsed in a heap. A turn put the fallen assassin, his companions, and the docks behind him as he rode hard for Northmand.

***

Suniel took a deep breath and felt the tension slowly drain from him. The fight was over.

Kezzek had already gone up the dock to help escort people from the barge and Grok'nar had wandered off somewhere not long after the last of the assassins had died, a speculative look on his face as he had watched the barge burn.

Slowly, Suniel approached where the last of their attackers had fallen. No body, no blood; only ash drifting in the faint, cool breeze blowing in off the lake. Curiosity soon overcame Suniel's weariness and caution, but yielded little fruit as he searched the area. Nothing left but ash.

He was about to give up and go help the Greywarden at the barge when he noticed a few scraps of paper smoldering near the spot where he had blasted the "leader" apart. The first few bits he gingerly picked up were blank or already too burnt to be legible, but one still contained writing.

He read it twice and then again. A second later he was sprinting up the dock. _They're going to want to see this_...

***

Kezzek growled as he looked at the few sparse notes he had scribbled in his journal. _Need more,_ he thought, looking up at the end of the dock where a small army of Northmand guards had gathered in a tight knot around the notables from the barge. _I suppose I'll need to get the cooperation of the locals to keep them from interfering with my investigation. Always tedious how protective..._ His thoughts were interrupted by a very breathless Suniel pushing his way through the crowd, what looked like a scrap of burnt parchment raised in his hand.

"I... this... its... I know..." Suniel said between gasps as he slid to a stop in front of Kezzek, waving the scrap about like a prize ribbon.

"Slow down Suniel," Kezzek said, raising his hands. "Take a breath before you collapse."

"Find Grok'nar... I know... where they are!" Suniel said, handing Kezzek the piece of parchment. Kezzek read it, tugged on a tusk, and growled.

"Find the hobgoblin. I'm going to make sure no one disturbs my investigation while we're gone," he said, scanning the length of the dock for any high-ranking officer.

Suniel nodded, turned away, and paused. "Looks like Harold was right about what they were," he said with a glance at the scrap in Kezzek's hand before he disappeared into the crowds.

_"...receipt of delivery, at one '_Annandor's' _behest and payment. Detail: 5 chests, medium, full, contents unknown; 2 chests, small, full, contents unknown; 7 coffins, full, contents unknown..."_


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 9, Part 2

-Notes: I'm going to update Wednesdays instead of Mondays. Not sure why I picked Mondays since they tend to be my busiest days. Extra updates didn't happen due to second job taking up ridiculously more time than I thought it would. So, next update Wednesday, maybe one extra one in there if I can finish up this job.-

The small warehouse was, from all appearances, abandoned.  The roof was partially collapsed and the wind blowing in off Mirror Lake whistled through chinks in the boards.  They might have never found it amidst its equally rundown companions if Suniel hadn't noticed that the door was heavy and new.

"All right, get ready," Kezzek said, quor'rel in hand.  He slammed his shoulder into the door hard and sent it flying open.  Grok'nar and Suniel followed in quickly.

Inside it was quiet, mostly empty, and dark aside from the faint moonlight that came in from the collapsed corner of the building.  Broken crates and other debris littered the floor, except at the corner opposite the door where it had been swept clean, stacked with a few chests and half-a-dozen or so long, narrow boxes.

Kezzek held his finger to his lips and crept towards the coffins.  The others followed and gathered around one, exchanging quick glances before Kezzek and Grok'nar grabbed the lid.  On a nod from Grok'nar, they threw the lid off and stepped back, weapons ready.

Nothing happened.

Suniel murmured and a light flared on the tip of his finger as they approached the now-open coffin.  Inside lay the body of one of the assassins, his wounds gaping, but not bleeding.  They repeated the procedure for the other coffins, finding one empty and the other six occupied by the assassins they had dispatched earlier, all seemingly lifeless.

"What did Harold say about finishing these things off?" Grok'nar said, prodding one of the bodies with his sword.

Kezzek walked out into the main part of the warehouse, kicking the debris with his feet.  Then he stopped, bent down, and there was a _cracking_ sound.  He came back with a sharp wood fragment as long as his arm.  Suniel and Grok'nar stood back as he slowly positioned it over the assassin's heart and, with a grunt and a heavy shove, drove it in.  The corpse's eyes flew open, it thrashed once, and then went limp.  Kezzek nodded and looked up.  "Find five more of those."

They went through the warehouse gathering makeshift stakes and repeating the procedure with the other five corpses. Afterward, they stood looking over their grim handiwork.

"Ok, now what?" Grok'nar said.  "These things going to wake up if someone pulls those stakes out?"

"They might," Suniel said.  "Probably best if we drag them outside and burn them.  I don't think they'll survive that."

Kezzek grunted in acknowledgment and they set to it.  When they had five thrown together in a pile and Kezzek had gone in to get the sixth, Suniel dug around in one of his robe's many hidden pockets, procuring a wand after a short search.  He pointed it at the coffins, spoke a sharp word of command, and they went up in flames.  Grok'nar stood beside him and watched them start to burn.

Then there was a thud from inside the warehouse and Kezzek shouted in alarm.  A second later Suniel and Grok'nar were through the door.

***

Kezzek stood half-crouched, quor'rel in hand as he stared at the shadowy form that had suddenly appeared in the corner.  Grok'nar and Suniel came up on either side of them, both alert and ready.

"It's no use," the figure said, pulling the cowl of his dark cloak back.  "It's all futile."

"Come along peaceably Annandor or we'll have to take you down," Kezzek said.

Annandor didn't even look at them as he took a step towards them and then stopped, picking up a small chest in one hand.  "I do his dark work and this is what he gives me, _this_!  Worthless!"  He threw the chest to the floor, shattering it and sending silver, gold, and platinum coins flying in all directions.

Kezzek saw Suniel and Grok'nar exchange questioning glances out of the corner of his eye.  He stepped forwards.  "You killed seven Greywardens in cold blood.  Do you deny it?"

Annandor met his gaze for the first time, his eyes a pale blue that almost seemed to glow.  "Them?  In cold blood?  Tell me, what would your Greywardens have done if they had come across my coffin and found me alone and unarmed resting there?  Tell me, if your Greywardens had come across me in that abandoned barn, would they have just left me to rest?"

"If they knew your true nature, yes," Kezzek said.

"Really?  So, if you knew someone was going to murder you in your sleep, would you not take the steps to insure your survival?"  Annandor looked down at the coins that littered the floor, shaking his head.  "Not murder, self defense."

"You know, he has a point there," Grok'nar said with a glance at Kezzek.

Kezzek growled and pointed one of his quor'rel blades at Annandor's chest.  "You are an abomination!  Do you deny causing the destruction at the docks, of murdering all those people?"

Annandor laughed, a cold, empty sound devoid of any real mirth.  "Abomination?  The half-breed vigilante calls me an abomination?  An no, I don't deny boarding that barge with the intent to kill.  I went to kill the Ambassador, to fulfill my side of the agreement.  I should have known better."

"Agreement with who?" Suniel said, taking a few careful steps closer.

"Who do you think?" Annandor said, hurling something at Suniel.  Grok'nar snatched it out of the air a foot from Suniel's face and looked at it.

"What does this carving mean?" the hobgoblin said, shrugging and handing it to Suniel.

The elf looked at it for a long moment.  "It means the Ashen Tower.  It means Thessalock," Suniel said, without looking up.

Kezzek looked back to Annandor, growling.  "Explain, assassin."

"It was a lie, all a lie.  One death in exchange for one life, that was the agreement.  But now I have more blood on my hands and nothing to show for it but these useless trinkets."  He kicked a pile of coins, sending them clinking and rattling through the warehouse.

"You needn't have any more blood on your hands," Kezzek said, lowering his blade and extending an open hand.  "Come with us peacefully and I promise you fair justice."

"Ha, you are blind if you believe your words, Greywarden," Annandor said, fingers curling.  "There is no justice in this world, except what you can seize with your own hands."

"So you will not come peacefully?" Kezzek said, readying his weapon again.

"I will not come at all," Annandor said quietly.  He gestured at the stacked chests and scattered coins.  "It is yours if you want it.  It is useless to me."

Annandor shifted and Kezzek immediately charged with a roar.  The vampire grabbed his cloak hem, thrust it away from him, and vanished.  Kezzek swung at where he had been, hitting nothing but a faint cold mist.  "He's turned to vapors!" Kezzek said, watching as the mist slipped out through a crack in the roof.  "Suniel, outside, you might still be able to hit him with your magics."

Kezzek ran to Suniel and grabbed his shoulder but the elf still stared at the chest fragment in his hands.  Grok'nar was picking coins out of the detritus on the dirt floor.  "He's getting away!" Kezzek shouted in frustration.

Suniel looked up and shook his head, as if shaking off a bad memory.  "There's nothing we can do about that now.  Besides, I have the feeling we'll be seeing him again."

"Well, then we'd better spend this fast, in case he wants it back," Grok'nar said, cradling an armload of coins with a grin.

***

When Harold found Suniel's carriage in the small park beside the Garden Inn the next morning, the others were already there.  Kezzek looked half-asleep, head drooping as he leaned against the carriage and listened to Grok'nar talk about the "feast he bought last night with the treasure..."  Suniel sat on a hay bale watching Keeper, who stood staring at a bottle set upon a fencepost.

As he rode up, Keeper's eyes flared and a beam of energy blasted the bottle apart, stopping Grok'nar's story in mid-sentence and sending him scrambling for his sword.

"Oh, it was just your construct," Grok'nar said with a sheepish grin.  He sheathed his sword and nodded to Harold.  "Hello archer-boy, how's your Diplomat doing."

Suniel winced, but Harold just shook his head.  "He's fine."

"Fine?" Kezzek said, voice even more gravelly than usual, as if he'd just woken up.  "Isn't he, well..."

"Dead?  Crispy?  Corpsified?  Murdered?  Mangled?  Massacred-" Grok'nar supplied.

"No, I had him resurrected last night." Harold said, climbing down from his horse and pulling out the writ Stevens had given him.

Grok'nar whistled.  "Got him resurrected?  Where did you dredge up the reagents for something for that?  It cost a small fortune for me to just get back that piece of my soul one of those assassins knocked off of me.  What's that?"

"This?  The Ambassador was grateful enough to give me a writ for 500 acres of his Stevens family land for when we get back to the Crystal Towers.  As for the assassins, they are-"

"We know what they are," Suniel said.  "You were right about them.  We found their hideout and dealt with them appropriately."

"Including their leader?" Harold said, taking a seat on a hay bale next to Suniel wearily.

Kezzek shook his head and growled.  "No, he escaped us.  Did the Ambassador give you any information about what happened on the barge?  I was up all night gathering testimony and writing reports on it."

Harold nodded.  "Apparently, he was having a talk with the High Priest - who has also been raised by the way - and there was a commotion outside.  They investigated and saw Northmand guards and Crystal Tower honor guards fighting each other.  Then one of the Northmand guards turned on Stevens.  He said the guard's eyes were blank, like he was staring into the distance, oblivious everything around him and what he was doing.  So the High Priest and Stevens closed themselves in until it quieted down.  They were about to investigate when the door opened, our assassin opened the door, slammed his hand into the center of the Priest's chest and the Priest died, gasping.  Then Stevens, well..."

There was a long silence.  Finally, Kezzek said, "go on."

With a long sigh, Harold continued.  "Stevens knew what the assassin was when he saw him and... killed himself to avoid rising after he was killed."

Grok'nar laughed and they all stared at him.  "The Crystal Towers is in good hands, good hands," the hobgoblin said, walking away from Harold's glare still chuckling.

"If you see something too scary, archer, let me know and I'll kill you for you," he called back over his shoulder.

"So, he murdered the Priest?" Kezzek said, rubbing his eyes, pulling out his journal, and jotting some things down.  "How did he get aboard the ship?  I have down that of the 80 people onboard, 34 died - of which 5 were raised - and 45 survived.  That leaves one unaccounted for."

"Well, I ran into Captain Donnolan on the way over here, with the barge captain," Harold said.  "The man said he was somehow given official papers with the wrong dock information - which is why he was at our dock and not the correct one.  Also said he overheard complaints about the musicians not playing especially well, I think he said something about their flutist."

"Hm... so maybe Annandor disguised himself as this flutist to get on board?  They said after they floated the barge and dredged the area, the corpses were all taken to the cemetery church and that 3 were too badly burnt to be identified."  Kezzek tapped the tip of one of his tusks for a moment, staring at his journal.  "Maybe we should investigate the corpses and see what we can find."  

Grok'nar came strolling back, a frothing mug of something in hand.  Kezzek stared at him for a moment before he continued.  "Also, this may not be related, but they said most of the valuables of those who were on the barge when it sank were missing.  Including some of those who were raised this morning."

Grok'nar tripped, spilled his drink, cursed, and turned.  "Damn.  Guess I need to go get another one now."

Harold put his hand on the hobgoblin's shoulder.  "Not so fast."

Kezzek stood and joined them.  "Yes, we're going to the cemetery and I think it'd be best if you came along with us.  You were there at the barge that night when it sank and might have noticed something we didn't when you were... doing whatever you were doing."

***

Grok'nar eyed the small stone chapel warily.  "Never had much use for religion myself," he said.

"Just come along, we'll get this over quickly.  Remember, she was short, slender, long brown braid," Kezzek said.  The five of them - Keeper had joined them this time, drawing many looks as he followed them through the town - walked up the stairs to the chapel.  "Hm... you'd think they'd have a guard or someone here."

"Probably left 'cause of the smell," Grok'nar said, wrinkling his nose as they entered the chapel and the charnel smell of charred flesh assailed them.

They examined the corpses quickly.  When they were done, they met up again at the entrance.  "Anyone find someone that looked matched the description?" Kezzek said.

Everyone shook their heads except for Keeper, who said, "Confirmation: negative."

They all shot him a look and turned to walk down the steps.  "I guess we know how he got on board then.  Maybe we should be searching the city for the body of a flutist..."

He stopped and the others followed suit.  "You said Stevens killed himself to avoid being raised?" Suniel said to Harold.'

Grok'nar snorted and stifled a grin.  Harold seemed to be ignoring him.  "Yes, why?"

"It was hard to tell, dark when we staked them but..."

One of Kezzek's eyebrows shot up.  "You know, I think you could be right.  One of them could have been her."

Grok'nar sighed, wondering why they'd skipped breakfast to come look at corpses and ramble on about missing flutists.  He stretched and started to arch his back, but stopped, squinting at the sky.

The others were in the midst of some deep discussion when he cut them off.  "Look, sorry to spoil your little mystery here, but I think we have a problem."  

They all stared at him as he walked over to Keeper and casually put a hand on his iron shoulder.  "So, Keeper, you expecting friends to drop in?"

There was a chorus of curses and all gazes shot skyward.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 9 Crunch

Not sure really what to put in these anymore.  I think I'll just stick to writing the story entries and if anyone has questions about what happened, they can ask.

Unless someone was really attatched to these "Crunch" entries?


----------



## Haunted

I'm fine without the crunch information.  The story is what I'm really enjoying.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 10, Part 1


"That's one of the big shrouded ones, but what the hell is that other one?" Harold said, squinting up at the two plummeting figures.

"Just looks like a giant jagged lump of metal," Grok'nar said.  "Maybe they didn't finish that one before they dropped it or fired it or whatever they do."

"Deal with the other one first them," Harold said, nocking an arrow.  "Suniel, can you-"

Suniel gestured and one of the falling forms disappeared in a detonation of flame.  It reappeared a moment later, robe blasted off, falling in a jagged cloud of rapidly disintegrating metal and burning bits of cloth.  

Harold began loosing arrows into it as it fell while Kezzek shifted closer towards where the giant lump of metal was falling, Grok'nar a step behind him.  It slammed into the ground, impact sending dust billowing in all directions, blinding Kezzek momentarily.  He heard a detonation above him, somewhere outside the swirling dust, and grunted.  _Won't have to worry about the big one while we figure out what this other thing is, _Kezzek thought.  _Who knows what the_-

An explosion of dirt sent him flying backwards out of the dust cloud.  He landed hard and rolled to his feet, staring at the hulking metal monstrosity that came out of the fog.  It was roughly humanoid shaped, but too wide and thick.  Its construction was crude and rough edged, like its creators had taken random hunks of metal and bolted them together.  One arm ended in a massive jagged blade and its eyes glowed with the white energy that Kezzek had come to associate with Iron Sky's constructs.

"It doesn't look so tough," Grok'nar said with a shrug, taking a step towards it with his shield raised.  It stood in silence as the dust settled around it, its only movement the flicker of its eyes.  Grok'nar glanced back at them, shrugged, and tapped its leg with his sword.  It didn't move.

Grok'nar grinned back at them.  "Maybe it broke in the-"  He managed to get his shield up just in time to block the sudden explosive movement of its ragged blade-arm.  The shield shattered and the hobgoblin flew back through the wall of a mausoleum.

Kezzek roared, a rapid flight of arrows clanging off the thing and magic tearing into it as he charged.  Its blank, flickering gaze followed Kezzek as he closed and Kezzek half-expected the eyes to flare and a blast of energy to lance out.  So intent was he on the eyes, that he barely avoided the huge blade as it came down.  

He ducked again as its fist swung at his head and he swung his quor'rel at a leg joint, gritting his teeth at the impact and leaping out of the way as the massive construct's fist slammed down behind him, sending a shudder through the ground.  He rolled to his feet and spun, ready to face the thing again, but saw it charging towards Suniel and Harold, shattering stone tombstones and monuments like a bull charging through pottery as it went.

Harold leapt onto his warhorse and rode quickly away, firing arrows as he went while Suniel backpedaled, chanting as Keeper blasted at the thing with energy blasts of his own.

Kezzek sprinted after it, but it reached Suniel first.  The elf finished his chant and threw up his arms, a shimmering wall of force solidifying right before the thing's blade arm connected.  A booming shock wave rippled out, staggering Kezzek and sending the wizard flying twenty feet; headlong into a large stone monument.  The elf hit hard and lay crumpled at its base, unmoving.  

Kezzek's vision went red and time seemed to slow as he neared the construct, feeling every hard breath, every sprinting step, seeing every broken arrow sticking from the thing's joints and seams, every pit and slag and scar where Suniel had unleashed his magics on it.  _I have to end this now,_ Kezzek thought.  _What if this thing were loose in the city?_

The juggernaut's blade came down and he spun to the side, just barely avoiding it as it dug deep into the earth.  He leapt onto its massive arm and ran up it, clicking the release that split his quor'rel into two blades, ready to jam them through its eyes.  It wrenched its blade arm from the earth and shifted to throw him off, but it was too late.  Kezzek took a final step off its arm and leapt, quor'rel blade in each hand, roaring as he flew at its head.  _Now you die!_ he thought, his thoughts shifting to orcish in the heat of his bloodlust.

One second he was flying through the air, the next he was slamming hard into the ground, pain exploding through him as bones shattered on impact.  He lay on his back, gasping and writhing, the thing looming over him and staring down with its soulless eyes.  Its broad foot slammed into his chest and he felt his ribs creak, the air driving from his lungs.  It leaned its full weight onto him, his bones cracking and popping at the weight, then it turned away, holding its massive hand out like a shield to block the arrows that still came down like rain.  Kezzek felt like it was still on him and struggled for a breath as the world began to tunnel.

As if from a great distance, he felt himself rise to his feet, a quor'rel blade somehow in hand.  He spat blood into the trampled grass and raised the point of his blade at the thing.  It turned, its blank gaze seeming to study him for a moment.  Then there was a lurch and he felt himself rising into the air, his quor'rel falling from limp fingers.

With numb curiosity, he looked down at where the juggernaut's blade arm was buried a foot deep into his chest, watching with strange fascination as his blood pattered down into the grass ten feet below.  Its eyes met his one last time, then it flicked its arm and sent him flying through the air, tumbling in the sudden darkness for what seemed an eternity...


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 10, Part 2

"Suniel... Suniel, you ok?"

Suniel came to in a daze, head pounding. Harold knelt over him, with a battered Grok'nar limping towards them as well.

Sitting up almost made him vomit, but after a few minutes of holding his head, he was able to stagger to his feet and look around. The chapel seemed to be undamaged, but the graveyard around it was torn apart. Statues, tombstones, and mausoleums were shattered, the grass was torn up in clumps, and there was a large, shallow crater not too far from where Suniel was standing.

"What happened?" Suniel said. He had the weird feeling that someone was missing, but with the intense pounding in his head he couldn't focus. Keeper walked over and gave him a slow nod, but the feeling didn't go away.

"I destroyed it," Harold said, nodding to where his lathered warhorse nibbled at the grass. "Fortunately my horse could outrun it and I finally must have hit a weak spot with one of those three quivers of arrows I shot into it."  He paused.  "The Greywarden's dead."

Suniel's gaze followed Harold's towards where a blood-splattered form lay broken in the trampled grass. A moment later, he and Grok'nar were kneeling next to Kezzek's body. The half-orc's wounds were brutal and gaping and here and there white bone jutted out from his skin. Suniel slowly picked up the Greywarden's strange sword that lay in the grass near by, then looked about.

"Did it break his sword in half?"

"No," Harold said, looking over from where he stood at the edge of the crater. "He did something to it and it split in his hands. The other half is probably around there somewhere."

"So, does anyone have any idea where these things are coming from and, more importantly, why they keep coming?" Harold said, tapping an arrow against his shoulder as he looked about the cemetery.

"They were seeking amulets," Keeper said, drawing looks from all of them. "More specifically, Seeking Stones."

"More specifically, what was that thing I just took out?" Harold said, walking over to Keeper with new-found interest.

Keeper pointed towards the Kezzek and then the crater. "That one was called an Iron Juggernaut. The others... I do not know."

"How do you know the name of that one and not the others?" Harold said. "No, wait, let me guess. You don't know."

"Correct, I do not know."

"So, do you know how many of these they will send?"

Keeper looked up to the sky and Suniel looked up sharply as well, a sinking feeling in his stomach, but the sky was empty of all but a few wisps of cloud far above. "They will keep sending them until they have the Stones."

"And they can locate the Stones somehow?"

"Yes."

"Wait," Suniel said. "So, why did they only start coming after the Sky Monk gave Harold that one and not come after Ming all that time?"

Keeper looked between Harold and Suniel. "Perhaps they can only track the one that came from their domain." He pointed at the sky.

"And there's nothing we can do to keep them from locating us?" Harold said.

"Getting rid of the Stone they are tracking being out of the question of course," Grok'nar said dryly.

Harold didn't even look at the hobgoblin. "Is there any way they can be shielded?"

Keeper nodded and tapped on his forehead. "One already is."

There was a long pause. Finally, Harold pulled his necklace off and held it in his hand. "If I give this to you, it still belongs to the Crystal Towers. Should the Crystal Towers ask for it back, will you return it?"

Keeper looked to Suniel. "He has to follow my commands.  If I ask him to return it he will."

"Is that true Keeper?" Harold said.

"If he asks me to, I will return the Stone," Keeper said.

Harold extended his hand slowly, looked at it for a long moment, then sighed and opened his tightly clenched fist, the crystal sparkling and glinting with an inner light. Suniel took it carefully, removed the Stone from the amulet, and handed it to Keeper. "Place it in one of the sockets whose effects I haven't documented yet," Suniel said.

Keeper nodded and pressed it into the shallow grove in his palm. There was a click and Suniel moved to a new position, probably to get a better view of whatever internal mechanism took and stored the Stone. As before, it was too quick, seeming almost to vanish into his hand.

For a moment, Keeper glowed with a faint white light and when it faded he seemed... larger, smoother, more finely sculpted in some way that Suniel couldn't put his finger on.  A moment later Keeper lifted his arm and a thin glowing shield of energy hummed into existence on his arm.

"Well, that light shield is neat and all, but what are we going to do with his dead orcness here?" Grok'nar said.  "And what are we going to tell the guards when they ask what happened. I'm not particularly keen on disobeying a golden glowing being that can stop time, so...  any ideas?"

***

"More of the assassin's agents, five of them," Harold said.

The guards looked about the carnage and at the three Greywardens that were collecting Kezzek's body. "Five men did all this?" the Sergeant said.

"They weren't exactly men," Grok'nar said, with a wry grin. "Made of tougher stuff you might say."

"I was using powerful spells to fight them," Suniel said quickly. "Some of this was my doing."

"Do you have any of their bodies? We didn't see any bodies..."  The Sergeant paused and glanced at the chapel and cemetery. "Well, didn't see any _more_ bodies around."

"They escaped," Grok'nar said, thinking quickly. "They were fast, moved like a blur. That's what tore up all the grass."

"They killed one of you, seriously injured two others, then ran?" another guard said, exchanging a quizzical glance with his companions.

"They were scared of me," Harold said. Grok'nar snorted and he saw Suniel roll his eyes. The guards all looked at Harold, who shifted slightly, straightened his back, turned his head in slight profile and grinned. 

Grok'nar guffawed and leaned against what he thought of as Suniel's monument, since there was a slight imprint of the elf's head in it.

"Well, if you say so," the Sergeant said, nodded to them, and began to walk towards where the Greywardens stood in somber discussion over Kezzek's body. He paused and glanced back. "Oh, we have a detailed listing of all the items that are missing from the barge. I'm guessing it was the Greywarden that asked for it, so if you don't want it-"

"No, we'll take it," Suniel said, skimming the list as soon as the Sergeant handed it to him.

Grok'nar turned and pretended sudden, intense interest in the inscription on Suniel's monument.

"Those writs in the back are for you and your companions, the Captain talked to the local temples and they agreed to tend whatever wounds you have as a favor to the Council - in thanks for all you've done for Northmand. Oh, and of particular note on the list of missing items are the High Priest's mace and even the symbol of his faith. The Captain was wondering if maybe the assassins were somehow responsible?"

Grok'nar could almost feel Suniel and Harold staring at his back.

"Yes... maybe that's it," Suniel said. "If we find any proof either way, we'll let you know."

Grok'nar pulled out some rations and sat down to munch on them, wincing when his sore arm bumped Suniel's monument, and ate slowly. He waited until Suniel and Harold wandered off - Suniel to talk with the Greywardens and Harold to see to his horse - before quietly packing up his things and slipping off.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 10, Part 3

"You're in love?" Suniel said.  "That's uh... with who?"

Guntl grinned, turned, and called out.  "Shruka, over here.  Come meet the boss!"

A moment later, the ugliest orc Suniel had ever seen came around the corner of the carriage.  She was smiling in what he thought might be a bashful manner, but he couldn't really tell.  It was such an extreme ugliness that his instinct to recoil in disgust shifted to an analytical curiosity about what exactly it was that made her appearance so repellent.

He extended his hand.  "Nice to meet you," he said.

She shook it firmly.  He noticed the warts and long black-hair on the back of her hand with detachment.  "So, Guntl says you'd like to come with us.  What are your skills?"

"I used to work at the Harvest temple.  I was an acolyte but they said I scared the people who come in," she said, her voice deep and gravelly.  "But I have some small useful magics."

"Indeed?  Well then, uh, welcome to the Black Carriage, Shruka," Suniel said.  He turned, saw someone approaching out of the corner of his eye, and did a double take.  "You?" he said, taking half a step back.  "How?"

***

They all gathered around the campfire Guntl had made outside Suniel's carriage, half-watching the flames and half-listening to Kezzek.

"The restitution I have collected in the course of perusing my casework covered most of the expense," he said.  "My share of what we took from Annandor's ill-gotten gains paid for the rest."

"What was it like?" Grok'nar said, glancing up from prodding the fire with a long stick.

"Being dead?" Kezzek said.  He took a deep breath and leaned back, looking up at the stars.  "I don't remember very well, it is vague, almost dreamlike.  I do remember an army of figures passing in the fog, wielding quor'rels.  I knew they were going into battle, against some foe they could never hope to defeat.  I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe as they passed.  I felt drawn to them but couldn't move to catch their attention and I desperately wanted them to notice me.  Then one stopped and took several steps towards me, holding his quor'rel out."

He paused and the only sounds were the faint bustle of the city as it settled down for the night and the snap and pop of the fire.  "'Take this to fight them when they return, to find victory where we found defeat,' the figure said, standing still and tall like a statue as he held it out to me.  I began to reach for it, but then I heard a voice calling to me from a great distance.  I turned towards the sound and saw a silvery light shining in the fog.  When I turned back, the figure with the quor'rel was gone as if he had never been and I awoke."

They all stared at the fire for several more minutes in silence until No Tongue came into sight, leaping and giggling and singing "maaaster" as he tried to catch the huge summer moths that were drawn to a nearby street lamp.  Suniel smiled at the goblin and saw several of the others doing so as well.

"Do you suppose he was talking about Iron Sky?" Harold said from where he stood apart at the dim, flickering edge of the firelight.

"Who?" Grok'nar said.  "No Tongue? I think he was talking about Suniel."

"No, the figure in the death-dream."

Kezzek frowned and tugged on one of his tusks with a glance at where Keeper stood watching No Tongue's antics.  "I'm not sure.  I don't think so though, somehow."

"Speaking of, what are we going to do about them?"  Suniel said.  "Keeper says they aren't going to be tracking the Stones anymore, but if Felskein is truly as important to them as he says, they may be back."

"I should have destroyed that Gem Eye that escaped us," Harold muttered.  "I had a feeling it would come back to us if we let it go after telling it so much."

Grok'nar nodded.  "For once you might be right, archer."

"Well, I'm not one to give into others demands, especially made through threats," Kezzek said.  "Our mysterious golden figure didn't even show us her face before making her demands."

"It's still strange to me how none of us got a good look at her, yet all agree it was a _she_," Suniel said.  "I wonder why that is?"

"I don't have enough information to submit to the Greywarden Council on these Iron Sky matters though," Kezzek said, seeming to not have even heard Suniel.  "I will wait until we have more information on their terrorist activities to report it.  Golden threats be damned."

"Thanks for doing that for us," Grok'nar said dryly.  He turned to Suniel.  "What do you suppose is in it for her?  Why shouldn't we tell everyone about Iron Sky?"

The elf shrugged.  "I have no idea."

There was another long silence.

"Well," Grok'nar said, standing and stretching.  "I'm going to go visit the outpost and see how our buddy Chief Shro'kar is doing.  Maybe gather some more information for Northmand."

Harold quirked an eyebrow.  "Really?  I didn't realize you had such an interest in Northmand's well-being."

Grok'nar pressed his hand to his chest melodramatically.  "Why, my dear friend Harold, I'm hurt.  You know nothing is more important to me than the welfare of my human allies."

"More like _your_ welfare if you don't keep the humans _as_ allies," Kezzek said with a grunt.

"Sharp.  I see why they made you a Greywarden.  Those keen powers of perception," Grok'nar said with a wink.  "Anyway, I should be back in a week or so.  Don't do anything rash without me!"

They waved as the hobgoblin sauntered off into the night.

"Well, I heard the Investigators talking about an Agony ring not long after I... woke up," Kezzek said, standing as well.  "My other cases seem to be on hold for a while, so I thought I'd see what I could dig up."

"Agony, the drug?" Suniel said.  "Nasty stuff.  Be careful, I've heard some things about the people who distribute it."

"Well, good luck with that," Harold said.  "Since everyone else seems to have other engagements, I guess I'll report back to duty for the Ambassador."

Suniel stood as well and nodded to them both.  "Well, I need to get my growing band of merry misfits organized and I'm way behind on my research.  Shall we all meet up here in a week's time?"

The archer and the Greywarden nodded.  "A week's time then," Suniel said, waving to the others as they walked out of the ring of firelight.  He turned to Keeper.

"All right, now that we have some time, let's see what all you can do with these stones..."

***

Harold stood straight, head held high as the Northmand Council as Marshal Spartus pinned two new medals onto his uniform.  The others stood next to him; the Greywarden clean, shaven, gauntlet shining, Suniel in his usual nondescript robes, the hobgoblin still covered in dust from the road.

"We present these medals as thanks for your actions against the Iron Tribes and the Assassins that have disrupted our peace this last month," the Marshal said.  He turned and collected a long, narrow polished box from the crescent table that the rest of the Council sat behind.  When he opened it, Harold saw four sealed scrolls, carefully placed in red velvet.  "As further signs of our gratitude, take these writs and visit the armory and the treasury, to take what rewards they entitle you to."

Harold saluted smartly when he was presented his writ and was pleased when the Marshal returned his salute.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ambassador Stevens smile slightly and nod.

"It was the pleasure of the Crystal Towers that we could serve our new allies," Harold said, ignoring Grok'nar's mock-sighing and eye-rolling.  "I only hope that in the future that our ties of loyalty grow even stronger."

The Marshal returned to his seat and nodded.  "Yes, about that.  There is a Gnomish Steamship leaving for the Crystal Towers by way of Steamport.  Our own ambassador, Roderic, would like to visit our new allies to make the alliance official.  His protection is of much importance to our new-fledged pact and so we will gladly pay the way of any who wish to accompany Honor Guard Harold and the two Ambassadors on their journey."

The others exchanged a few glances and Suniel nodded.  "Thank you.  We will speak on it."

"Very well," the Marshal said.  "Now, if you will excuse us, we have many urgent matters to attend to."

"Yes, of course," Harold said, saluting a final time before turning and marching crisply out of the Council Chamber.  He glanced back at the others and saw them mulling the Marshal's offer over as they followed him out.

_None of these three have any real roots here, it will not be hard to convince them to come along,_ he thought.  _One short journey south and we will complete my mission, we will bring the Crystal Towers hope._

His thoughts turned to the Ashen Tower and his mood darkened.  _Hope.  How sorely we need it._

---

_Here ends Act I of the Rise of Felskein.  The party readies to set forth from now-familiar Northmand and take the journey south into the larger and more treacherous world: down the Greenpath to the Crystal Deep, to the wondrous Gnomish capital of Steamport, to the Landspear - the mountain that pierces the sky - and across the ever-feuding Freeholds to the ancient Span that connects the Crystal Towers to the mainland, and hopefully, to finally reach the gleaming spires of the Crystal Towers._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 11, Part 1

"How was the visit to your tribe?" Suniel said, glancing up as Grok'nar rode up on his shaggy horse.  Kezzek looked up from where he sat sharpening his quor'rel and squinted up at the hobgoblin as he dismounted.

"Well, I would have visited my tribe, it had still existed when I got there," Grok'nar said, pulling a wineskin off his horse before walking over.

"Still existed?  Explain Grok'nar," Kezzek said, brows furrowed as he watched the hobgoblin take a drink.

"The High King got word of Shro'kar's deal with us and sent a small army of Iron Ring thugs to kill everything breathing in the place.  I only got away from them with my life by giving them lies, misdirection, and false promises.  Needless to say, I'm not in any hurry to go back there."  The hobgoblin looked uncomfortable and hid it quickly with a long drink from his wineskin.

"Are you sure that's all you gave them?" Kezzek said dryly.  "The things that disappeared when the barge sank all seem to still be missing.  The High Priest especially has been searching for some of his things..."

"Gosh, that sure is interesting.  If I hear anything I'll be sure to let you know right away," Grok'nar said.  "Anyway, I'd expect the war will be on for real here before long."

"I'd agree with that," Harold said, riding up on his warhorse.  "We destroyed another raft camp this past week, skirmished with hobgoblins up and down the west coast of Mirror Lake."

"You kept yourself busy then I take it?" Suniel said as Harold dismounted and joined them.

Harold nodded and brushed his hand against the dozens of new iron ring necklaces that hung from his belt.

"Anyway Kezzek, you were saying before Grok'nar and Harold arrived?" Suniel said, turning to the Greywarden.

"Hm?  Oh yes," Kezzek said.  "Not much more to tell really, the Kellins, of course, abandoned the ones I found were involved in the Agony Ring to justice, turning over a few of their own for good measure.  I'm not convinced that there aren't more of them involved, but there's enough Kellins that I could spend a decade here rooting them out of Northmand's underworld.  They breed like goblins."

"Master?" No Tongue said. Suniel patted the little goblin on the head.

"Instead of spending a decade in one little city, you could take the Steamship south with us and bring justice to the untamed, uncivilized expanses between here and the Crystal Towers," Harold said.  "The steamship leaves tomorrow."

"South... that passage will take us by the Landspear, won't it?" Kezzek said.  Something in Kezzek's tone was almost... wistful?  Suniel glanced at the Greywarden curiously.

Harold nodded.  "There are two routes around the mountain: the east path through the broken hills that lie between it and the cliff-edge of Felskein, or west, through Port.  We'll be taking the Port road since the Ashen Tower controls all the passes through the eastern hills.  Then on through the Freeholds and home."

"Are there ruins in the hills at the Landspear's base?" Kezzek said, staring at his quor'rel.  Suniel's curiosity grew.

Harold shrugged.  "I've heard of them, but I've never had much interest."

"Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I'd rather not be on _either_ side of the war that seems to be about to start here," Grok'nar said.  "So sign me up on your steamship."

"You Suniel?"  Harold said, turning to him.

He turned from Kezzek and looked in the archer's hard eyes.  _Back south, _Suniel thought.  _How long have I been fleeing from there?  Perhaps my past has forgotten me by now._

"I'm in," Kezzek said.

Harold nodded to the half-orc and turned back to Suniel.  "Well?"

"This steamship, it has room for the Black Carriage?"

"Yes, whether your talking about the carriage itself or your followers."

"Then I'm in as well," Suniel said.  _I've run long enough._

***

The iron steamship was small, small enough that Grok'nar wondered where they were going to put the wizard's carriage.

"It doesn't look like much from up top, but there's actually more below the water than above it," Harold said as they rode up the dock towards it.

"Wouldn't that be a problem for river travel?  Rapids and shallows and the like?" Suniel said from where he sat on the bench of his carriage next to Guntl.  

"Maaaaster," No Tongue said, gaping and pointing at all the boats, barges, and ships filling the dock.

"No, you'll see why in a minute," Harold said as they came to a stop before the strange looking little craft.  Two gnomes walked across the metal gangplank to meet them.

They all dismounted and stood facing the two gnomes.  One had a white dress shirt and red vest, a tricorne cap sitting at a jaunty angle on his head.  The other wore greasy leather coveralls and had soot smeared on his face and through his thinning hair.

"Welcome!  I'm Captain Rumple Shingleclank, master of this fine vessel," the one in the vest said with a bow and a wave to the Steamship.  "This is my brother, Machinamentalist Bingor Shingleclank."

"Machina-what?" Grok'nar said as the others shook the captain's hand.

"Machinamentalist.  He handles the machines and the slave-elementals that power them.  One of the best Machinamentalists Steamport has ever produced, if I say so myself."

"He's exaggerating," Bingor said.  "But just a little bit," he added with a grin.

"So, where do we fit the horses and the carriage?" Suniel said as he looked the steamship over.

"Bingor?" Captain Shingleclank said, glancing at his brother.  The machinamentalist was already running across the gang plank.  It retracted into the ship a moment later and a minute later, black soot was billowing from the steamship's smokestack and Grok'nar could hear grinding and clanking noises from somewhere inside it.  Then with a blast of soot and a wave of water that splashed onto the dock at their feet, the ship shot straight up six feet, revealing a door inset into the side of the hull.

A moment later, the door fell open to the dock with a _clang_, revealing a surprisingly spacious cargo hold.  "Load your things up in the middle.  Guest quarters are in the rear and our other passenger's things are up in the front.  And trust me - you definitely don't want to get too close to his things," the Captain said with a wave to the hold.

"What other passenger?" Grok'nar said, trying to shift to where he could see into the hold better.

"Will it stay up long enough for us to load?" Suniel said dubiously as the ship shook, the grind and clang of metal echoing from inside.

"Oh sure, we can keep it up for a couple hours without wearing out the elementals.  As long as we don't do it all the time anyway.  Not that you should take your time of course," Captain Shingleclank said.  No one moved.  "Go on, it's perfectly safe."

Grok'nar sighed.  "If I'm supposed to die someday, I doubt it's aboard some gnomish contraption."  He led his shaggy horse into the ship, nose wrinkling at the strange smells - oil, grease, char, and something else that he couldn't place.  The others followed him in.

An hour later they stood at the rail of the steamship, watching as Northmand's docks and, farther away, the fainest outline of the Ragged Hills, dwindled in the west.  Grok'nar had the feeling he'd never see those hills again.  _Well, good riddance,_ he thought.  _Nothing left for me there anyway._

He turned and walked to the bow, pulling out his wineskin as he looked forward, at the first stretch of the long journey.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 11, Part 2


Kezzek glanced up from his journal to his fellow passengers. The two Ambassadors, Stevens from the Crystal Towers and Roderic from Northmand, stood at the rail in the fading light, discussing future war with the Iron Tribes. Harold stood near, hand on his bow and eyes wary as if something might attack the Ambassadors at any second. A few paces away, Guntl and Shruka were trying to teach No Tongue how to tie a knot, while Stabber looked on, rolling his eyes and doing coin tricks.

Suniel sat near the aft castle, watching and taking notes as Keeper produced a sword of lightning out of thin air and swung it about. Grok'nar sat near the small stair that led down into the hold, sipping from his wineskin and sniffing at the air that flowed up from down below, a curious expression on his face. A moment later, Lunt came up from below, carrying yet another loaf of bread. They still hadn't met the mysterious "other passenger."

"Suniel, if your goblin keeps eating, we're going to run out of food before we reach the Crystal Deep, much less Steamport," Kezzek said. Suniel glanced up in time to see Lunt hunch down and cram the whole loaf into his mouth and nearly choke as he tried to chew it.

"Lunt, that's enough. If you eat anymore, you won't get any food tomorrow," Suniel said. Keeper walked over, picked the stout goblin up with one arm, and stared at him with his unblinking electric gaze as Lunt chewed like a cross between a squirrel and a cow.

Captain Shingleclank came out from the strange aft castle - it was sided in iron like the rest of the ship and had a glass window across the front so he could steer from inside - and nodded to Kezzek. "We're making good time. Bingor said the elementals are in good shape so he's working them hard."

"I'm not in any particular hurry," Kezzek said.

"Well, Two-Peg is, he said his cargo is 'perishable'," the Captain said, squinting at where Grok'nar was leaning his upper body down into the hold stairwell. "Hobgoblin, looking for something?"

Grok'nar almost fell into hold before he caught himself and sat up, a feigned innocence on his face. "Just wondering if the other passenger was going to show up at some point."

"He's... private. Doesn't come out..." there was a _thump_ from the stairs and Captain Shingleclank trailed off, as did most of the activity on the deck as everyone glanced towards the source of the sound. A few moments later, a small figure _thumped_ up from below-decks and stood looking back at everyone with his one eye.

He was a gnome, rough skinned and scarred, one eye covered with an eye patch, one arm ending in a wooden fitting, one leg ending in a peg below the knee.

"Uh, everyone, meet Two-Peg. Two Peg, meet everyone," the Captain said.

Two Peg turned to Captain Shingleclank. "No one is to disturb my things."

"What things would those be?" Harold said. "I think we have a right to know if we're going to travel together."

Two Peg gave Harold a flat glare and turned to the Captain again. "No one." He turned and _thumped_ back down into the hold.

"Friendly fellow," Grok'nar said. "What do you suppose he's got down there?"

Captain Shingleclank shrugged. "They were covered with canvas tarps when he loaded them. He checks on them every night, but I've never seen what's inside."

"You let him bring unknown cargo onto your ship?" Suniel said. He gestured and Keeper set Lunt down.

Captain Shingleclank shrugged. "He paid extra for discretion."

"Well, none of our business then," Kezzek said. Most of the others nodded and went back to what they had been doing. Kezzek turned to the hobgoblin. "Right Grok'nar?"

"Of course," Grok'nar said with another glance toward the hold. "Totally off limits."

***

He was pretty sure everyone was asleep. The horses nickered faintly as he made his way past them towards the front of the hold and where Two Peg's mysterious cargo sat. He inched towards it, pausing now and then to be sure no one had heard or spotted him.

In the near silence - broken only by the strange methodical chugging sound of the ship - he thought he heard a strange wheezing sound from within the largest of the canvas-draped containers. He crept forward, looking around one last time before sliding a metal weight off of the canvas and pulling up one corner to peek in. He jumped back as something shot towards him, but too late.

***

Harold's first instinct on hearing commotion was to be sure the Ambassadors were safe. They were, sitting up in their bunks with questioning expressions on their faces. "Stay here, I'll see what it is," Harold said, grabbing his bow and quiver and stepping out into the narrow hall.

There was a roar and a hobgoblin curse from the front of the hold and Harold moved quickly, weaving through the confines of the cramped hold. When he reached Two Peg's cargo, the canvas was gone from the cage it had been draped over and the creature inside had the hobgoblin in a crushing bear hug.

As Harold nocked an arrow, Kezzek appeared beside him, quor'rel in hand. "Owlbear," the Greywarden said and cursed in what Kezzek assumed was orcish. "Can you hit it without hitting Grok'nar?"

"I think so," Harold said. In quick succession, he fired three arrows and the owlbear released Grok'nar with a roar.

"Back, beast, down," Two Peg said, uncoiling and snapping a long whip the moment he reached them. The beast let out a strange hooting roar and slammed into its cage.

Kezzek jumped forwards and pulled Grok'nar's crumpled form clear of the owlbear's reach. "Stop shooting, that's my livelihood you're killing!" Two Peg shouted, pushing in between himself and Harold.

The beast had two arrows protruding from its massive shoulders. Harold looked down and saw the third arrow protruding from the back of Grok'nar's skull. Kezzek looked up at Harold. "He's dead."

"Because he is a fool who disobeyed my request and got himself killed for it!" Two Peg shouted as the beast roared and threw itself against its cage. "Lower your bow archer!"

Harold still stood with an arrow drawn to his cheek, glancing between the beast and the dead hobgoblin. Finally he lowered his bow and stared at Grok'nar's body. Kezzek knelt and closed Grok'nar's eyes, glancing up as Suniel arrived. The elf's eyes widened as he saw the hobgoblin.

"What happened here?" he said, looking from the beast to Grok'nar to the arrow to Harold.

Kezzek opened his mouth, but then there was a clang and horrific scraping and the ship lurched and and the ship came to a sudden stop.

"We've hit something, something big," Two Peg said softly and even the owlbear went still.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 12, Part 1

-Note: You'd think I'd learn...  I figured I'd just type up this week's story, post it, and be done.  Instead, I typed up most of it and then accidentally hit the "back" button on my mouse.  *Sigh*  So, I did the smart thing and typed it up in Open Office.  

Got most of the way done(typing quick since I'd already typed it once) and the computer locks up.  Lost about 1/3 of it.  Otherwise it would be longer.  I liked the first version a bit more, but don't remember exactly what I typed.  Lesson learned now... I hope.-


The strange metal craft came to rest against the huge tree the tribe had felled. Boneclub snarled and motioned the others forward with the huge club that was his namesake. As they moved out onto the wide tree trunk, he saw Longtooth and the rest of the warriors moving climbing onto the fallen tree from the other bank.

As they ran across the fallen tree, he saw several figures move out onto the deck of the strange metal smoke ship. Boneclub raised his club higher and bared his teeth so the boat dwellers could see. He glanced back and saw the rest of his tribe-mates were doing the same. Then they vanished in a blast of fire.

Boneclub almost fell into the water, but caught himself on a branch, staring in shock as arrows tore into Longtooth and the rest of the warriors. _These aren't like the other boat-dwellers,_ he thought. _These ones fight, not surrender!_

His warriors were falling to arrows and flame, the ones that actually reached the craft being cut down by what looked like an orc with a huge gauntlet and a strange two-bladed sword. Then the Spirit Totem lunged up out of the water, scales glinting in the moonlight. His massive jaws clamped onto the orc and dragged him into the water. On the craft, the archer, the boat-dweller shaman in a plain robe, and a rusty metal man moved to the rail, but then the Shaman called out behind Boneclaw.

A vertical blast of lightning hit the metal smoke ship as Boneclub pulled himself back to the tree trunk. Immediately the archer began sending a rain of shafts into the woods behind Boneclub and, with a gesture, the robed one caused another detonation in the trees. Boneclub ducked low and snuck forward using the still-leafy limbs of the fallen tree for cover. The Shaman and the boat-dwellers exchanged arrows, fire, and lightning while the orc thrashed in the water, battling the Spirit Totem.

As Boneclub reached the prow, he saw that the rest of his warriors were dead; some lay scorched on the smoldering tree-trunk, while others floated down the river sprouting arrows or lay slashed open and sprawled on the deck. Boneclub crouched out of sight, waiting for the right moment.

There was a hooting cry as the Shaman flew out of the trees, calling another bolt of lightning that threw the archer and boat-dweller Shaman to the deck. Seeing his moment, Boneclub let out a roar and charged, heavy club raised over his head as he rushed the archer. The human shook his head, got to his feet, and glanced in Boneclub's direction. _I will avenge my tribe-mates! _he thought as he crossed the deck.

In a blur, a bow appeared in the human's hand and an arrow slammed into each of Boneclub's shoulders, sending his club clattering to the deck and almost knocking Boneclub off his feet.  With a snarl, Boneclub broke the arrows shafts, raised his head to the moon, and roared. 

When he looked back, the boat-dweller's Shaman - close enough now that Boneclub could see that it was an elf - stood with a finger pointed at him. The metal man stood, eyes flickering, behind him. Boneclub roared again and charged, ready to wring the elf's neck with his bare hands. The wizard muttered something and there was a flash of light.

Boneclub crumpled to the deck with a final dying thought: _I failed the tribe..._

***

Harold reached his hand down and the Greywarden clasped his wrist. Kezzek fell to the deck dripping water and blood. “That was a big damn alligator,” the half-orc gasped.

“There were about a dozen of them in all I'd say,” Harold said, glancing about at the bodies that littered the area.

“Confirmed, plus the water creature and the flying one,” Keeper said.

“Yes, what about that flying one?” Suniel said, still scanning the woods.

“The giant owl that was calling lightning on us?” Harold said as he walked towards one of the bodies. “It's been a few minutes, I think he's gone.”

Harold knelt next to one of the lizardfolk for a moment then stood. “I'm going to go check the banks.  I'll be back.”

Suniel glanced up from where he was doing his best to tend the Greywarden's wounds, but didn't ask as the archer made his way onto the fallen tree. A few minutes later the archer returned.

“I found some tracks. Looks like they came from somewhere downstream on the west bank,” Harold said. “Shall we check it out?”

Kezzek stood, winced, and followed Harold as he headed back to the fallen tree. “They were river bandits as far as I'm concerned. Maybe there's more evidence at their lair.”

Suniel glanced at the sprawled bodies. _Such pointless waste of life_, he thought and sighed. “I guess they're right. Keeper, let's go.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 12, Part 2

-Notes: Ahah! I was smarter this time. Typed it up in OpenOffice so the dreaded crash only took 1/3 of a page instead of the whole post!-


“This is... not what I was expecting,” Suniel said as they stood starting at the lizardfolk's lair.

An ancient looking male with cracked scales leaning on a long staff stood at the front of about two dozen of what Suniel assumed were females and young. The old one raised his staff and bared his teeth, then dropped it and prostrated himself on the ground.

Harold, Kezzek, and Suniel looked at the small tribe and glanced at each other. Keeper stood by impassively.

“Do you speak Common?” Kezzek said, tugging on a tusk as he took in the tribe.

“I speaks your tongue, boat-dwellers,” the lizardfolk elder said, still prostate. 

“Why did your tribe attack us, old one?” Suniel said.

“And where did your owl go?” Harold said, still glancing about warily, bow drawn and arrow nocked.

“We show strength to all boat that come, we board, we take food, they go.” The old one said. “Our Shaman we not see since battle.”

“He abandoned you?” Harold said, looking about suspiciously.

“He serve the Spirit Totem. Spirit Totem killed by orc, Shaman leave,” the old one said.

“Half-orc,” Kezzek growled.

“Stand old one,” Suniel said, helping the ancient lizardman to his feet. “You were boarding ships for food?”

The old one nodded and gestured to the small tribe. “We fled from the other Tribes, Shaman said Spirit Totem knew of promised place up great river. We lost most of tribe coming up and now Totem dead and Shaman gone...”

“You were boarding ships with weapons drawn, what do you expect?” Kezzek said.

The old one raised his hands. “In our ways, you must bear teeth and raise weapons to show you are not weak before you can negotiate, otherwise they just kill warriors and take females and young.”

“Well, that sure worked well for you,” Harold said, finally putting away his bow.

“It was all we knew to do. We travel and run out of food... none knew what else to do.  And now we have nothing.”

The three companions exchanged a glance. Suniel nodded, Kezzek shrugged, and Harold sighed.

***

They stood at the rear rail and waved at the tribe as they steamed away.

“That was probably a waste of two days,” Harold said. “They aren't going to survive out here.”

“We gave them a chance,” Suniel said. “It's all _we_ can do.”

“Who knows. Maybe they'll be able to domesticate those wild pigs we rustled up and set up trade with ships passing by,” Kezzek said. “They know better than to show their peaceful intentions by drawing weapons now at least. And Grok'nar will have some company tromping around near his grave. I think he'd have wanted that.”

Suniel nodded and glanced down at the hobgoblin's wineskin. He raised it in salute towards the tiny village they'd helped the lizardfolk build and tossed it into the river.

Kezzek grunted and gave a salute of his own, banging his gauntleted fist against his chest. Harold turned and looked downstream.

"Farewell Grok'nar. Never thought I'd say this of a hobgoblin, but you'll be missed," Suniel said. They watched as the village passed behind them out of sight.

***

Almost everyone else was already on deck by the time Harold made his way out of the hold. He pushed his way through Suniel's motley band, clustered about the bow of the ship, and turned to the Captain. “Why are we stopped?”

Guntl shaded his eyes against the noon-day sun and pointed downstream. “Look, there, you see?” 

Harold squinted in the direction Guntl was pointing. “I see nothing, what are you pointing at?”

“This is bad,” Captain Shingleclank said, pulling his tricorne off and gripping it. “Thought we might get lucky again, but there she is.”

“There who is? What are you talking about?” He stared ahead, still unseeing. Then she moved.

The great green dragon was stretched out along the shore at the next bend basking in the sunlight, at least sixty feet from nose to tail, maybe more - the foliage was blocking part of their view of her.

Harold reached for his bow, but Suniel put a restraining arm on his. “I don't want to fight Ashcandia if we can at all avoid it.”

“So what are we going to do then?” Harold said, dropping his arm to his side. “Sit here until she comes to us? Wait, you know her name?”

“Yes, I've heard it before; Ashcandia Gloomwood, she claims this area as her territory. And no, we aren't waiting for her. I thought I'd go talk with her,” the elf said, glancing downstream. “I speak Draconic and thought I might be able to negotiate for us. 

“I'll come too then,” Harold said. 

“I thought you didn't speak Draconic,” Suniel said.

“I never said that.”

The wizard stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. “All right, let's go then.”

***

The largest trout Suniel had ever seen wriggled and twitched, impaled on one massive claw. Ashcandia didn't even turn to look as they approached, her lazy, half-lidded gaze watching the death-throes of the fish. 

“Hail, Great One,” Suniel said in Draconic, bowing low. He noticed with much annoyance that Harold didn't duplicate the gesture.

She didn't respond, instead slowly and delicately extending a razor-sharp claw and popping the fish's eyes.

Harold cleared his throat as if he were about to speak, but one great eye turned to them. “You may pass,” she rumbled back. 

“We are envoys from the Crystal – what?” Harold said, Suniel echoing him.

With a swift movement, the green's claws snicked and the fish flew apart in a spray of blood. Lazily, she dipped her bloody claws in the water and watched the water ripple around them. “I said you may pass.” 

Suniel bowed deeply again. “Thank you, oh generous one, we are most grateful and will be on our way immediately.”

“Why do you let us pass so simply?” Harold said. Suniel stared at him and took a few steps back, reminded again that this man seemed to be afraid of _nothing_.

She arched her graceful, slender neck and turned to regard him. “Bold, human. But _she_ likes them that way, I can see why she would pick you.”

“Who? What do you speak of?” Harold said, taking a step closer. 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and Suniel took another step back in spite of himself, half expecting Harold to disappear in a flick of those claws and a spray of red. “Do you try me simply because you bear Gilderalin's mark? Do not think that her protection makes you invulnerable.”

“Whose mark? Do you speak in riddles, dragon?” 

The green's eyes widened then, one eyelid arching up. “You mean you truly don't know? Very interesting. Why would she mark you in secret?”

“Who is Gilderalin?” Harold said.

Ashcandia arched her head back and there was a throaty rumble that Suniel took to be a laugh. “Oh, this is too rich. Marked by her and they don't even know it, probably off on one of her fools errands. Priceless.”

Suniel saw Harold's expression darken and he quickly stepped forwards. “I'm sure we'll discover in due time. We won't trouble you any more, Great Ashcandia.” He gave yet another deep bow. “We will be out of your territory as fast as we can travel.”

He pulled at Harold's elbow, first subtly, then harder as Harold continued to stare up at the dragon. Finally, the archer turned and followed him back towards the ship.

Suniel cast a quick glance back and saw the great green regarding them coolly, all traces of amusement vanished, eyes calculating as she watched them go.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 13, Part 1

-Note: Short post, late night, early morning. Also seemed like the best place to break-up this session. I'll probably type the entire rest of the session up next week, should be a pretty long post, but it was a pretty... eventful session.-


It was dawn the next day when the Steamship was stopped by a massive Treant standing in the middle of the river. Suniel had called an alarm as soon as they came around the bend and he saw what seemed to be a tree growing out of the center of the river, but the Captain hadn't been able to stop the ship in time.

Right before they collided, its two largest branches swung down and slammed into the boat, stopping it and lifting the front out of the water with a jerk that would have sent Suniel to the deck if Keeper hadn't caught him.

He thanked Keeper and slowly walked towards the again-immobile tree, its branches gripping the gunwales like huge many-fingered hands. Suniel was examining it when Kezzek ran up on deck, quor'rel in hand, looking quickly about before stopping and staring. He walked up beside Suniel, never taking his eyes off of the huge trunk before them.

“Suniel, is there a tree holding on to our boat?” Kezzek said, still staring at it.

“Yes, Treants they are called, I've seen a few before,” Suniel said, experimentally reaching out and touching a branch.

As he did so, Kezzek drew in his breath and stepped back, but the tree remained inanimate.

Suniel was about to try something else when a high, light female voice called out to them from the bank. “You there, aboard the abomination. Don't touch Gnarlknot!”

Suniel and Kezzek exchanged a glance as they walked carefully back down the deck to get a view unobstructed by the tree.

A beautiful naked woman stood in the river beside the boat, the river lapping at her navel and her long, thick, green hair gracefully concealing her breasts and running into the water. The dawn light struck her at a perfect angle, causing her skin to seem to glow with an inner radiance.

Others were coming up onto the deck as well, but Kezzek motioned for them to stay near the aft-castle. The Greywarden turned to the woman. 

“Is this your tree?”

She laughed, a clear, clean sound that made Suniel's heart flutter just to hear. “Gnarlknot belongs to no one, nor do I.”

“Why does he stop our ship?” Suniel said, trying unsuccessfully to not stare. She began to run her fingers through her hair and no amount of propriety could make him turn away and miss any glimpse of her he could get.

Her beautiful face darkened and she pointed at the metal hull of the ship. “That monstrosity chains elementals, binds them against their will as slaves until they are used up, spent, discarded. It should not exist.”

Suniel tried to get his mind to work, to formulate words to negotiate, but just as he found the words, Harold ran up on deck, bow in hand, taking everything in in an instant.

He nocked an arrow and aimed it at the woman. “What do you think you're doing?” he demanded.

Her skin transformed, wrinkling and hardening almost like bark.  Her eyes began to glow, shining like the first bright beams of dawn light cresting over a hill. Then the glow flared brilliant gold, filling Suniel's sight before he could turn away.

As soon as it had come, the golden glow faded away, leaving Suniel in darkness.

***

The gnome priest finished chanting his absolution and the darkness that had taken Kezzek's sight for nearly three weeks began to fade. He wept unabashedly as the first grey outlines of the temple walls began to register on his brain, then the forms of Suniel and Harold kneeling at either side, then the haggard, dirt- and soot-covered face of the priest. 

“I see!” Suniel croaked, voice breaking with his gratitude. “I thought I might never see again.”

Harold stood without a word and walked outside, squinting his eyes almost shut against even the dim sunlight that broke through the thick black smoke and raining ash outside.

Suniel stood, crying as well, and took the priest's hand, kissing it and saying something to him in what Kezzek assumed was elvish. The gnome smiled sadly and patted them both on the head, his eyes distant and mournful.

“In spite of all that has happened to my people in the last few days, I feel that perhaps you have suffered more than I,” the gnome said. “Please, I would hear what happened, even for a few minutes' escape from what goes on outside.”

Kezzek stood and shook the priest's hand and stared out the doorway, seeing the devastation, the glow of fire, hearing the distant howl of wind, the crash of water, the crack and rumble of distant earthquakes somewhere to the east.

“It began with a Treant and a... I believe a Nymph, from what I dredged 
from the recesses of my memory in our dark, helpless time,” Suniel began. 

“They had stopped our Steamship not far, by my reckoning, from where the Greenpath meets the Crystal Deep, though what their intent was I do not know, for before I could truly learn, Harold, the archer who was here,” he gestured towards the door, “came to the deck and aimed his bow at her and she stole the sight from our eyes.”

He took a deep breath. “We lived in the darkness of the blind from that moment until your absolution a few minutes ago, so I saw nothing of our journey here, but I have the words of my... Keeper and the members of the Black Carriage for what we saw, and I can tell what I heard and felt.”

“It began with the roar of a Treant, a sound like timber breaking in a tornado, a sound that will forever be imprinted upon my mind and associated with the onset of our darkness and helplessness. It began with that roar, a lurch of the ship, and a blind, helpless tumble, swallowed by a river and sinking in the drowning dark with no idea of direction...”


----------



## Volabit

Iron Sky said:


> He drew an arrow and pointed it at the woman. “What do you think you're doing?” he demanded.





Earmark this page, here begins the slide, the dimplomacy roll of ready, fire, aim.

This journy down the river was crazy. Being blinded sucked.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 13, Part 2

-Note: Had hoped to finish session 13 tonight, but I'm falling asleep as I type. Here's most of it, I'll see if I can finish the last bit sometime this week. No promises though. Enjoy.-


“When I pulled myself onto the shore, blind and half-drowned, the river was a maelstrom of chaos behind me. Again, most of what I tell you is what Keeper and the others told me, since in my sudden blindness, everything was confusing and afterward my blindness seemed to steal from all of my other senses as well.

“It was about the time that the Treant pulled the front of the ship apart that Two-Peg was releasing his creatures. I heard later that, ironically, the Owl Bear that killed Grok'nar killed Two Peg as well as soon as he freed it, but it did some damage to the Treant as it fled the sinking ship. It was really Bingor the Machinamentalist that saved us.

“He released the elementals and ran - and for good reason. The long-imprisoned elementals unleashed their fury at the first thing they sensed as they tore their way out of the ship; the Treant. It was a battle of two extremes of nature and fortunately for the rest of us they destroyed each other. The fey woman slipped of some time during the fight, when everyone else was distracted by the elemental destruction unleashed on the Steamship.

“Keeper and the others gathered us together after the fight. Surprisingly, none of my companions were killed or even seriously hurt, though the Captain and Two Peg were killed and the Steamship destroyed. Bingor was inconsolable and mute for several weeks at the loss of his brother. 

I found that Kezzek and Harold were blinded then as well. We spent much of the morning sitting on the river bank in a daze, the three of us wondering what to do as the others did their best to salvage what was left of our belongings and the Steamship. Somehow my carriage survived as well.

“It was decided that we'd try to build a raft. Stumbling blind through the Gnarlbend Forest with its wild dangers or the Stoop Oaks and their capricious Fey didn't appeal to any of us so it was decided that we'd take what we could salvage from the Steamship, cut down some trees, put it all together and see if it could get us to Steamport. I wasn't optimistic, but Keeper said his access to the Nexus was strong enough that he could build the raft. He took charge.

“It was humbling for the three of us to be so useless, sitting by helplessly as the Ambassadors and my entourage did all the work. It took almost a week of hard labor for them to finish it – though at least nothing lumbered out of the Gnarlbend and none of the fey found us chopping down their Stoop Oaks. We were in no condition to fight.

“Fortunately too, our journey down the last of the Greenpath was uneventful and the weather was clear and calm as we crossed the Crystal Deep. Guntl told me of it as we crossed its clear waters, so clear that he could see schools of fish a hundred feet below us and caught glimpses of far darker, larger things moving in the depths even further below. Fortunately as well, none of those unnamed monsters took an interest in our crude amalgam of lumber and metal.

“Guntl and Keeper saw the first faint ruddy glow of Steamport burning after a bit more than a week crossing the Crystal Deeps. The others saw it a while later and said it was like a sunrise but in the south, though occasionally it would flare up enough that the whole sky lit up and there was a sound like far distant thunder...”

***

“Bingor said it looked like the Elemental Reactors that powered Steamport must have been breached, judging by the earthquakes that sent rocks rattling down the cliffs and waves washing high against our raft, by the tornadoes that roared through the inferno that was the ruins atop the plateau where Steamport had been built, and by the waterfalls that crashed down the cliff-faces or boiled away into the black clouds.

“I saw none of it of course, but even from the distance I could hear the wind, feel its heat on my skin and the quake-waves in the motion of the raft, smell the ozone of lightning and the char of falling soot on my skin. Keeper described it all in detail as we approached, the almost unbelievable destruction and the hell-storm that had engulfed what was once the largest and most advanced city in Felskein.

“We landed on one of the few docks that was still intact, amidst the wrecked hulks of Steamships of all sizes that protruded from the water about us. We'd just finished securing the raft when Guntl growled.

“'There's someone else on the dock,' the orc said in a low whisper. 'Surrounded by bodies looks like, maybe one-hundred paces.'

“A gnome? 'What does he look like? What's he doing?' Harold said. Keeper told me later that Harold pulled out his bow and Kezzek reached for his quor'rel in spite of their blindness.

“'He's just standing there. Not a gnome, something else,' Keeper said.

“I sighed then and reached for Keeper's cool metal arm and had him help me along the dock. When we got near, Keeper stopped.

“'Hail,' I called. 'Who goes there?'

“'I'm too late,' the other said, his voice strangely familiar. 'He's already come and gone, gone where I can't catch him.'

“'Annandor?' I said. 'Is that you?'

“'Thessalock was here. This is what he leaves in his wake. And now he's gone back to his Ashen Tower where even I cannot follow,' Annandor said.

“'Thessalock was here?' I said.

“Annandor gestured to the maelstrom of energy and destruction that was Steamport, Keeper told me later. 'Here and long gone. The Crone must be my hope now, to the South. Perhaps she has the cure.'

“'Who is the Crone? And what of Thessalock? Will you just let him go?'' I said. High above there was a great roar and a flash of heat that flattened me to the dock.

“Keeper said that Annandor turned to us then as Keeper pulled me back to my feet. 'Thessalock is what I hunt, not that which hunts you. I've seen the iron machines in my dreams. I've seen them coming, casting their shadow over the whole of Felskein until all the decay and destruction of this continent is under their rule. Only the Crystal Tower Defenses will stop them.'

“'You know of Iron Sky?' I said.

“Harold had apparently stumbled his way to us and overheard. 'My people? The Crystal Towers are the defense of the continent? What do you mean?'

“And he was gone. Keeper said that he smiled, a sad, mocking smile, just before he vanished.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 13, Part 3 

-Note: It would make more sense to take the time to type these up earlier so I'm not falling asleep as I type them all the time... Anyway here's the last of Session 13. Next session: A guest star from the Black City and the party is again four strong(Grok'nar's "reincarnation")- 

“We stayed the night on the dock. Everyone was exhausted from a week of rowing across the entire Crystal Deep, so there we slept, even though the smoke was so thick it was almost choking. Our sleep was fitful – and not just due to the smoke.

“We'd hoped we'd find refuge, some bit of civilization after more than three weeks traveling through the wilds, and maybe someone to restore our sight lest we live the rest of our lives in the darkness.

“We started meeting refugees not long after we landed the raft and started across the burnt grasslands whose blackened stalks crunched under our feet. From them we pieced together... maybe not _the_ story, but at least _a _story of what happened.

“They told us about the Cabal's celebration, and the initial reactor explosions that came simultaneously with the Airship unveiling and the announcement of the new-forged alliance with the Crystal Towers. Many of them blamed the Crystal Towers for bringing the Ashen Tower down upon them. And there was no doubt about who it was: too many reports of the dead rising on the streets even as the Elemental Reactors exploded and the city collapsed on itself. I think Harold took it harder that they blamed the Crystal Towers than the news that the largest city in Felskein had been wiped clean off the map.

“I wish I had gotten to see Steamport in its glory, the massive elemental reactors, the magilifts to the skytowers, the steamwalkers that roamed the streets. I heard your city was a wonder of Felskein and you have my deepest condolences for what has happened to your city and your people...”

***

Kezzek walked next to where Suniel and Keeper stood on the wall and looked out over the chaos of the settlement, overflowing with a thousand refugees. Ash still rained down and the landward horizons still glowed from the great grass fires that now burned across the plains and to the east, the clouds whirled and flashed and glowed with fire where Steamport still burned and shook and crumbled.

“They say the elementals have destroyed their entire country, their entire race – except for what we're looking at down there,” Kezzek said as he leaned on the wall beside them.

Suniel shook his head. “What a waste. I'd heard it was the greatest city ever constructed. Peace, trade, technology; three words that summed up their whole society. All gone like that...” he gestured like he was brushing away a cobweb... “and only this one ragged, overcrowded settlement left of an entire race.”

Kezzek growled in thought as they stood watching a boat pull up to the small harbor – this one made of wood for all the metal Steamships lay wracked in their harbors or sunk in their rivers or at the bottom of the Crystal Deep or Landspear Lake. Finally Kezzek spoke. “Maybe it's justice. How long have they been enslaving elementals? Elementals straight from wherever their plane is. Heard those giant reactors that blew had rifts straight to their planes, pulling them in to use like firewood. Only firewood that thinks, maybe feels, probably hates as it burns.”

“You call this Justice? One thousand, maybe two, left of an entire race.” Suniel turned to Kezzek, his expression incredulous. “You call _this_ justice?”

Kezzek thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe. The elementals seem to think so. Maybe the gnomes 'used up' a couple species of elemental, enslaved and wiped out a couple of whatever they have for races. What do we know, really?”

Suniel shook his head again, but didn't reply, instead looking back out at the huddled remains of what had been Felskein's most advanced and prosperous race until less than five days past. Keeper met Kezzek's eyes as Suniel looked away, the electric flicker of the construct's eyes and the brown metal of his face giving no insight to whatever he was thinking. _If _it_ thinks at all,_ Kezzek thought, watching Keeper out of the corner of his eye long after the machine had turned back to look over the settlement. 

_He's a constant reminder,_ Kezzek thought. _A reminder that there's more out there somewhere beyond the scope of all we know about our world. Something that we know almost nothing about but might still hunt us, hunt our _continent_ even. _That thought alone was boggling. _And all we have is Suniel's guess that we can trust him. Trust _it_._

He pulled his journal out and flipped to a random page, reading it for comfort in a world that seemed out of control. _At least crime I understand, criminals I can catch. Justice is simple and swift. Who ever thought I'd look forward to a hearing about something simple like a murder, something so mundane as a robbery?_

“There's a word for this, though I don't know where it comes from,” Suniel said, breaking Kezzek from his reverie.

Kezzek looked from his journal and quirked an eyebrow. “A word for what?”

The wizard gestured across the entirety of the gnome race that huddled under crude shelters, packed into a small scrap of land. Suniel met Kezzek's eyes.

“Genocide.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 14, Part 1

“Elorn Stoneprow? I think his is that ship over yonder.” The gnome gestured vaguely to the ramshackle docks, full to bursting with all manner of craft – except Steamships, of course. “Heard he deals in metals usually, but somehow got his hands on a boatload of food. Good thing he's got thugs for a crew, 'cause people's already getting hungry round here...”

Kormak turned towards the dock, ignoring the gnome's ramble, drawing a few calls of protest from the gnome as he walked away. 

He saw what had to be Elorn, the fat dwarf sitting atop a stack of boxes behind a line of burly looking gnomes, goblins, and all manner of rough and tumble. The crowd pressed up against the crude barrier they had thrown up to keep the hungry gnomes away from their shipload of food. Kormak's eyebrow shot up as he overheard what exorbitant prices they were already charging.

He slipped into the shadows below the docks where ramshackle huts were already springing up. Satisfied he was alone, he pulled out a blank sheet of parchment, pulled up his sleeve, and pressed softly on the quill tattooed on his forearm.

_He's here, as expected. Continue?_

***

Kezzek sighed and wiped his brow as what was left of the gnomish nation moved about what passed for streets in the shantytown that had sprung up around Watersprock. Most of them seemed to be wandering around in shock or despair, while a few possessed of more angry and vocal temperaments vented about the Crystal Towers bringing the Ashen Tower down on them. A few whispered curses at Thessalock, though not without many sideways glances as if he was about to step out of the shadows.

Several long, hot, and dusty hours asking about the Crone that Annandor had mentioned had yielded only one lead. After a deep drought from his waterskin, he wiped his mouth and pushed through the mob that filled the dock Elorn's ship was moored against.

“I'm looking for Elorn, may I speak with him?” he said to the goblin that sat scribbling down transactions at the edge of the barricade.

The goblin waved Kezzek off without looking up. “He's busy, bugger off unless you're here to buy something.”

Kezzek stared at him for a long moment, then leaned over the barricade – mostly designed to stop gnomes judging by its height – and slammed his Greywarden gauntlet into the planks the goblin had set up across a couple barrels to create his makeshift desk, sending parchment and ink bottles flying.

“Hey!” the goblin said, jumping back, half-drawing a long dagger. He took in Kezzek's orcishness and Greywarden gauntlet quickly. His knife was sheathed and Elorn himself stood before Kezzek in under a minute.

“This is your ship?” Kezzek said.

Elorn smirked and rubbed his gray-streaked black beard. Kezzek disliked him immediately. “Yes, full of foodstuffs by way of Port.”

“Port?”

Elorn snorted. “Yeah, they named their port that, bloody Freeholders. Being the primary port of the Freeholds, it changes hands faster than money's changing hands here on this dock.”

Kezzek looked at the despondent and desperate looking gnomes pressing against the barricade, trading the scant treasures they had fled Steamport with, sometimes even the clothes off their backs, just for a few meals. “Fortunate for you that you happened to have a hold full of food and enough guards to protect it...” Kezzek said, tugging at a tusk as he surveyed the ship.

Elorn chuckled. “Not guards, just my crew. But you are right, lucky indeed. Fortune smiles upon me at last. But I'm sure you didn't have my First Mate come get me just to talk the trade.”

“Indeed, no.” Kezzek cleared the local predicament from his mind. “I heard from someone that you know someone who knows of the Crone.”

“Ha! That's a roundabout way of finding something out. What's that, fourth-hand information?” The contrast of Elorn's cheery mood to the general mood of Watersprock did little to improved Kezzek's initial impression of the dwarf.

“Regardless of how I came about the information, is it true?”

Elorn scratched his head. “I heard about this captain named Witherleg who supposedly had a gimpy leg cured by her, but that's about it. Haven't seen him in a while though, might well be in Steamport or at the bottom of the Crystal Deeps for all I know.”

“Hm. Is that all you know about the Crone?”

“What does that make it, fifth-hand information now? Ha! Anyway, I'm 'fraid so Greywarden. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fortune to make here.” Elorn gave the barest of polite nods as he turned back and began yelling at his crew as they lowered another pallet of grain-sacks with the ship-board crane.

Kezzek tugged at a tusk again and growled to himself, then pulled out his journal.

_One Captain Witherleg may have more information about this “Crone” that Annandor mentioned. Location unknown. Status unknown._

He sighed again as he pushed back through the crowd. _Chasing rumors of rumors of a ghost..._

_***_

Angelo knelt, whipping his silver-traced longcoat back as he did so. The tracks were fresh, clumps of baked dirt strewn in its wake. He rose and looked toward the horizon, half wondering what calamity wracked the north where the sky burned, the land rumbled, and from whence damp ash rained and coated everything in a dull gray.

He stood and pushed long strands of white hair away from his face, then rested his hands lightly on the rune-traced silver of his pistols.

_The sooner the hunt is over, the sooner I can leave these strange lands,_ he thought. _When the Huntmaster learns how far I've had to pursue this one and how many have died to it..._

He shook the thought from his head, sending a black dusting of ash raining from his hair and collar. Just as he was about to continue his pursuit, he noticed a bit of color beside his quarry's trail, half-buried in a drift of ash. The brightly dyed wool sleeve was like many of the others he'd found; torn and blood-spattered, though this one was small, as if from a gnome or a child.

He gritted his teeth and threw it aside and set off at a taxing pace. _No more die to you, nightmare,_ he thought as looked ahead to where its trail met the horizon. _No more, if I have to run for three days straight to catch you._

_***_

Suniel came out of his trance with a start as someone knocked loudly on the door to his carriage. Keeper glanced from the door to Suniel, his sleepless, flickering eyes following Suniel as he stood and pulled his robe on.

“What is it?” he said as he opened the door a crack and peeked through.

Guntl pointed towards the bay. “The food ship, out there where they anchored it in the bay for the night. Was fighting on-board and now it seem the ship's abandoned. The gnomes are heading out to it in anything that floats, heck some are even trying to swim all the way out there.”

Suniel only had to think for a second before he reached a decision. “Guntl, go grab Kezzek and meet us at the dock. Keeper, go find us a boat while I gather my things.”

Guntl nodded and disappeared into the night while Keeper rose and headed out the door. A sudden worrisome thought stopped Suniel as he gathered his things and he put a hand on Keeper's shoulder. The flickering eyes turned to him.

“Don't kill anyone out there. And that goes in general, unless I specify otherwise. Like if we're defending ourselves, understand?”

“Of course,” Keeper said, staring back in his indecipherable, expressionless way until Suniel waved him on.

Suniel hoped that his warning was unneeded, but in some ways it seemed the more time he spent around Keeper, the less he understood him.

_How can you really know someone – some _thing_ – that doesn't think, whose thoughts are just information pulled from some unknown source out there in the sky somewhere? What is it like to have your thoughts not be your thoughts, but like ten-thousand pages pulled from books in a library that you've never even seen?_

Then he was on his way to the docks and pushed his contemplations aside. Keeper and Kezzek were waiting for him with a boat they'd found somewhere. They nodded to Suniel as he climbed in and together they made for the ship, hoping to beat a hundred starving gnomes – and the chaos that would likely follow – to the ship.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 14, Part 2

-Note: Couldn't get it up last night(this post I mean) since the database was down when I was trying to post it.  This is the first opportunity I've had to post it today.  Enjoy.-


Kezzek growled in thought as he stared at the disarray of the cabin. “He was murdered,” he finally said.

“By his crew?” Suniel said from outside, glancing landwards at the hundreds of gnomes swimming or paddling their way out to the ship on whatever they could find that floated, then seawards towards the two packed rowboats that headed out in opposite directions, presumably holding the ship's crew.

“Mm, no,” Kezzek said, walking over to a window with broken shutters. “Look at the hinges, this window was forced open by someone on the outside. Why wouldn't a crew member just come through the door?”

He glanced out the window at the wet smoothness of the ship's hull. “Whoever did it was skilled too, if he did it without bringing the crew down on him and if he was able to climb this. Strange too, he managed to kill Elorn without stabbing him, no blood, bruises on his temple, crushed wind-pipe even after Elorn had drawn his weapon...”

“Maybe it was a thief and Elorn just got in the way?” Suniel said, pointing to small chests that lay strewn about the floor of the cabin, silver and gold glinting here and there in the light of the orb of brilliance that floated on Suniel's palm.

Kezzek shook his head. “Why wouldn't the thief just take the chests? They're small enough to slip into a pouch. It looks like these were smashed open, but that would make too much noise.” He picked one of them up and tossed it to Suniel.

He squatted near the bed where Elorn's body lay looking about the scene for a moment, then at the dozen gnomish, goblinoid, and dwarven crews' bodies that lay sprawled out on the deck. _They killed each other. Mutiny after the captain died?_ 

He was about to make a comment on it when Suniel _hissed_. Kezzek spun, hand going to his quor'rel.

The wizard stood shining his light on the small chest, staring at the broken lock. After taking a deep breath, Suniel turned it towards Kezzek. “Do you recognize this symbol?”

After looking at it for a long moment, Kezzek nodded. “Wasn't this on the chests that Annandor had? The ones from-”

“The Ashen Tower,” they said together.

“I found something,” Keeper said, standing next to a dark alcove in the corner of the cabin. He walked over with a weathered, leather-bound journal.

Kezzek took it and stepped outside the cabin, taking in the gnome flotilla that was just reaching the ship. A handful of half-drowned gnomes were already pulling themselves up the netting on the side of the ship.

“Lets look this over later,” Kezzek said, motioning to the cabin with the hand that held the journal. He turned to Keeper and pointed at the escaping rowboats. “Keeper, can we catch one of the rowboats with the ship that you commandeered?”

Keeper replied without even looking at the rowboats. “It would take us approximately eight minutes to pursue and acquire the the smaller vessel with the current wind velocity and their rate of traversal. Chances of locational synchronization with the more massive transport are of questionable predictability.”

Kezzek and Suniel stared at Keeper for a few seconds before Kezzek spoke. “So that's a yes on the small one, right? Good, let's go.” 

Kezzek walked over to the first gnomes that were pulling themselves gasping over the rail and onto the deck. He loomed over one and pointed at the captain's cabin. “The ship's current ownership is unknown, but I'm authorizing you to take as much food as you can carry. Oh, and if anyone touches anything in the cabin, I'll consider it a crime against the Greywardens and come seeking justice. Let the others know that too. Got it?”

The gnomes nodded quickly.

Kezzek, Keeper, and Suniel climbed down to their fishing boat, setting out after one of the rowboats.

***

Kormak dropped to a crouch and froze, staring out to the sea as a rowboat full of dwarves and gnomes emerged from around the blackened trunks of a once-forested promontory, followed close behind by what looked like a crude fishing boat manned by an orc, an elf, and a rusted construct.

Wanting no part of it, he started to move off quickly down the beach when he saw something that stopped him cold.

It was probably sixty feet long, the deep green-black of its skin glistening as if it were coated with slime. It had forty or fifty insect-like legs, seemingly none of them symmetrically paired and, even more bizarrely, some of them had bits of colorful cloth wrapped about them and a what looked like a backpack strapped on the back of its many-mandibled, many-eyed head.

Kormak stared at it for a moment in shock, even as the rowboat crushed into gravel of the bank behind him. It wasn't until a rough hand planted on his shoulder and spun him around that he snapped out of it, grabbing the hand and breaking it's owner's arm out of reflex.

***

“What is that thing?” Suniel shouted, pointing to the monstrosity that reared it's body like a snake or centipede, head swiveling towards the skirmish that had broken out on the beach.

Kezzek stared at it, quor'rel drawn, as its legs churned it closer. Without a word, he leapt into the still knee-deep water and started wading towards shore, on an intercept course.

Suniel sighed and turned see a stocky, bearded figure ringed by cutlasses and clubs by the rowboat. Two of the crew members already lay still in the gravel.

“Keeper, this is one of those times when we try not to kill anyone. Take them alive if you cane,” Suniel said before muttering an incantation.

Keeper splashed into the water, eyes flaring, as Suniel unleashed a spell.

***

Angelo swore as the Bent creature's head shot up, antennae swiveling down the beach. _It's spotted prey again_, he thought. _No choice but to attack it now. Damn._

He sprinted after it, drawing and firing his brace of pistols at point-blank range before leaping on its back. It twisted and thrashed as he did so, gouts of greenish fluid spurting from the bullet wounds as he landed, but it didn't stop its charge.

Gripping tightly with one hand, he used the other to draw his rapier and drive it into the thing's back. It screamed in an oddly human voice and flipped over, sending Angelo flying from its back. He hit the burnt grass and rolled, coming to his feet as it stopped its motion and turned on him.

“Come get me, Bent One,” he snarled, crouching and waiting for its charge.

Instead, a hulking gray figure lept from the side, slamming a strange double-bladed sword into the thing. It twisted and curled back, flicking the figure off with a dozen bristling legs.

Angelo didn't waste the opening, rushing in and and severing the first two legs that shot out to pierce him and ducking underneath, slicing up and leaping out before it could drop its weight and crush him.

When he climbed to his feet again and turned, the gray figure – what seemed to be an orc with a strange, massive metal gauntlet – was beside him. They stood, weapons ready as it reared back on it's last dozen legs, its main bulk rising forty feet above them. It made a sound then, half between an insect chitter and a human laugh as one of its mandibles hooked back and slid something from its pack and ate it.

“Was that a _potion _it just ate? What in the hells is this thing?” the orc said, his accent almost indecipherable foreign.

“A Fae Bent,” Angelo said, reloading his pistols quickly as he did so. “I'll circle right, you go left. Whoever it doesn't go for kills it before it can kill the other, ok?”

“A fey what?” the orc said over his shoulder as he circled left.

Angelo didn't respond, instead focusing his attention entirely on the creature, waiting for it to make its move. When it did, it was almost blindingly fast, one moment risen high and swaying back and forth like a snake, the next on the orc in a blur of slender piercing legs and chitinous bulk.

The orc was trapped in a forest of barbed and thrashing limbs, slashing desperately with his weapon, his dark blood flowing freely.

“For the Black City!” Angelo screamed as he charged. _May I live to see it again._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 14, Part 3

-Note: Angelo's player was the same as the Sky-monk way earlier. He'd come on leave from the Navy from time to time and play for part of a session, then be gone for six months. I really liked this character too, thought it might introduce the group to the Black City and the Fae Wood. Instead, they didn't really get to see the Black City until... well, you'll see.-


Angelo clung to the pack straps on the creature's head and buried his rapier into it. It kept thrashing, trying to kill the orc that still fought underneath its bulk. Angelo swore and drove his rapier into it again and again, until finally the thrashing stopped and it started curling up.

As Angelo leapt clear, he saw the orc crawling away from the thing, leaving a trail of blood in the grass. Sheathing his sword, Angelo stared at the Fae Bent creature as it twitched in its final death throes. The orc walked up beside him, spattered with blood and gore.

“So what was that thing we just killed?” the orc said.

“Something that wasn't supposed to exist,” Angelo replied. He turned away, mentally preparing himself for the long journey back home.

***

Kezzek watched the mysterious hunter walk off to the west, leaving the giant many-legged horror twitching in the burnt grass.

Suniel walked up beside him, staring at the creature with sheer curiosity. 

“What was that?”

Kezzek bent and picked up a colorful bit of cloth, like the many that adorned the thing's legs. “Something that wasn't supposed to exist I guess. A fey something.”

“Fey? That's not like any fey creature I've ever heard of.”

“Well, whatever it is, it's dead now or just about.” Kezzek tossed the cloth aside and glanced back at the rowboat. Keeper and a simply dressed dwarf stood over a pile of bodies. “They all dead?”

Suniel didn't look away from the dying fey-thing. “They shouldn't be, Keeper and I at least were trying to take capture them. I'm not sure about the dwarf.”

Kezzek sighed, winced again, and walked towards the rowboat.

***

“You killed these three? Why?” the bloody Greywarden said, staring down at Kormak.

“Wow, that thing sure uglied you up, or is that normal for your face?” Kormak said. He glanced at the dead and unconscious dwarves, goblins, and gnomes and shrugged. “One of them put a hand on me so I tried to break it off.”

“And you killed them with your bare hands?” the Greywarden said, eyes narrowing.

“Why the suspicious look? The elf here took out these other ones with his bare hands - well, and some arcane whatever-you-call-it. Your machine here shot energy from its eyes and used its bare hands.”

“The captain on the boat that we pursued these sailors from was killed by someone using their bare hands,” the half-orc said.

“Oh, so I must have been the one that done it then? You as stupid as you are ugly?”

The Greywarden didn't react, just staring down at Kormak and tugging at one of his tusks. “Well, I suppose capability does not mean guilt. I'd like you to come with us back with us to Watersprock none-the-less.”

“Sure, why not?” Kormak said with a nonchalant shrug. “Was heading that way anyway.”

***

“So the log here says that Captain Elorn traded in metals. Is that correct?”

The captured dwarf, Ragnen, swallowed as he sat bound in the bottom of the sailboat, looking up at the hulking bloodied Greywarden as Keeper steered them back to the ship. “Yes, that's right.”

“So why the sudden interest in foodstuffs after trading in metals for...” the Greywarden stopped and flipped through the Captain's log. “Six years? It's almost like he knew somehow that food was suddenly going to be worth a whole lot more than metal suddenly.”

Ragnen looked over at the wizard and his rusty metal construct, then to the hideous dwarf that had killed Patch and Teral with his bare hands, then back to the Greywarden. “I dunno, I was just following orders.”

“The log doesn't say you carried anything on the way to Steamport. Why was that?”

“We had passengers, but we didn't see them much. Got off at Steamport in the dark.”

“Passengers? Where did you pick them up from?”

“The mouth of the Greenpath, they were just waiting there.”

The Greywarden and the elf exchanged a glance. When they looked back their expressions were hard. “And you delivered them the night before Steamport got wiped out. Who were they?”

“I don't know, but I saw them hand over something when they got on. Gold, several chests worth. Elorn didn't let any of us see them, but for that glance I got, hid them in his cabin. Lookit and his bunch got to the cabin first, so I don't know any more than that.”

“And you're saying you don't know who they were? Not at all.”

“Naw, Elorn didn't tell me much,” he said. “He kept it between him, that log there, and Witherleg.”

“Witherleg?” the Greywarden said, one eyebrow quirking. “Elorn told me yesterday that he had only heard of Witherleg in passing. Fourth-hand information and whatnot.”

“I don't know 'bout that, what the Captain said's between you and him.”

“So, the Captain died how?” the wizard said.

“Dunno,” Ragnen said. “Lookit found him dead, or so he said. I think Lookit might have done it himself.”

“Lookit, wasn't that the goblin?” the Greywarden said.

“Yeah, little backstabbing runt. He's the one that 'found' the Captain dead and said he was Captain now. I said no, I'd be the better Captain.”

“So you had a disagreement?”

Ragnen nodded. “It got... violent. Some sided with Lookit and pulled weapons, those of us who thought I should be Captain pulled ours in defense-like. We... disagreed a bit, then saw all those starving gnomes coming for us and decided to bolt with what we could take.”

“So, you were the First Mate then?” the wizard said.

The Greywarden's eyes shot down to Ragnen and his eyes narrowed. 

Ragnen's thoughts churned. _The Greywarden was on the dock yesterday. He talked to Elorn. How much does he know?_

“Well,” the Greywarden said. “Were you First Mate?”

Ragnen swollowed hard. _If I lie and he knows, he might just kill me now._

“No, I wasn't, Lookit was,” he said. He dropped his head.

“Didn't think so. If I remember correctly, Elorn called Lookit the First Mate back on the docks.” There was a pause. 

“Mutiny then,” the Greywarden finally said.

***

Harold looked down as the others' little boat bumped up against the side of the ship.

“What the hell is going on here? Where have you been?” he said.

“Long story,” Kezzek said as he pulled himself up onto the ship.

“What's the short version?” Harold said, crossing his arms as he watched them clamber aboard.

“We're still figuring it out,” Suniel said as Kezzek and Keeper helped pull him up.

“How about searching the Captain's cabin, some things in there that might be of interest to you,” Suniel said.

“Oh?” Harold said, sizing up the ugly, plainly-dressed dwarf that climbed aboard after the others.

“What you lookin' at?” the dwarf said.

Harold stared at the dwarf for a moment then, without another word, headed towards the Captain's cabin.

***

Suniel rubbed his eyes in the early morning light as they climbed out onto the rocky beach.

“Long night,” Kezzek said as they pulled the three still-bound crew members out onto the beach.

Harold leapt over the gunwales of the boat and stormed off into Watersprock still carrying one of the Ashen Tower coin-chest he'd taken from Elorn's cabin.

“Figured anything out about that crystal that Harold found?” Kezzek said.

“It's cold and I have a feeling it has something to do with the whole dead-rising-in-the-streets-as-Steamport-burned thing that we heard about,” Suniel said, putting his hand in his robe to where the chill purple crystal was hidden.

Kormak the dwarf climbed off the rowboat after them, looked up and down the shore, and whistled loudly.

Suniel and Kezzek stared at him for a minute, then there was a bark from up the beach and a dog with a miniature set of canvas saddlebags strapped to its back came galloping down the beach. They watched the dour dwarf play with the dog in bemusement until he turned to them and said, “this here's a dog. Never seen one before, huh?”

Suniel and Kezzek glanced at each other and shook their heads, then turned to the three crew members on the beach.

“So what do we do with them?” Suniel said.

Kezzek looked at them for a long moment, then seemed to make up his mind. “The Captain's log says he and this Witherleg are... were partners. Ship belongs to Witherleg since Elorn's dead, says so in the contract. Cargo's split between the crew in shares. Figure since we only have three crew left that have returned to the ship, in a manner, that the shares of cargo are theirs. And they're guilty of mutiny.”

Suniel had a sinking feeling at the grim matter-of-factness of how Kezzek was speaking. Kezzek stared at the three for a long moment.

“What are you thinking Kezzek?” Suniel said. “They've already lost enough, haven't they?”

Kezzek pulled out a coin from his pocket and looked at it for a long moment. “I'll be right back.”

Suniel waited, unsure of what to do – and, more importantly, what Kezzek was going to do – as Kezzek disappeared into the camp. Several minutes later, he returned with an armload of wood and what looked like a small crucible. In minutes he had a hot little fire going and a gold coin melting in it. Kormak looked on in interest, the three sailors in apprehension.

“Kezzek, what's going on?” Suniel said.

“Justice.”

“Justice? Justice for what?”

“Mutiny, theft.”

“Theft? What are you going to do?”

“I figure they were fighting over the cargo. When I questioned the other two, what they say mostly matches with Ragnen's story. Right now, that cargo is worth more than just about anything you could pack in a ship short of gold. And in a sense, by mutinying, they were trying to steal it. Sounds like Lookit and his crew drew their weapons first, so the murder might be self defense, but the mutiny was theirs.”

“Sound enough reasoning I'd say,” Kormak said.

“So? Why are you melting gold coins?”

“It seems fitting, they were motivated by greed, they wanted the wealth for themselves, willing to kill others for it. Common penalty for thievery is losing a hand.”

“That sounds about right to me,” Kormak said.

“What? Wait! You're going to pour molten gold onto their hands?” Suniel said, shocked.

“More like into their hands than onto with that much gold,” Kormak said. “Probably burn right through the skin, go inside.”

Kezzek was silent. The sailors eyes bulged.

“You can't do this!” Suniel said.

“What would you suggest?” Kezzek said, not turning his eyes away from the crucible.

Suniel's mind churned. _Kezzek won't be able to be talked out of this. Justice is his life, _Suniel thought, weighing options quickly.

“So they still have rights to the cargo, right?” he said.

Kezzek thought for a moment. “I suppose they do.”

“So how about they give it up to the local authorities, the people of Watersprock. Then they go free. That way they still don't get what they were killing for, they get justice.”

“Naw, I say they just lose the hands,” Kormak said.

Suniel shot the dwarf a dark look. When he looked at Kezzek, the Greywarden seemed to be contemplating it. Finally he lifted the crucible from the fire and walked over to the now-pale sailors still sitting bound on the beach. 

“You three are guilty of mutiny, attempted theft, maybe murder. By rights of the contract you signed with Elorn, the cargo belongs to you three. I've decided to give you a choice. You can keep your cargo, worth a large fortune considering the circumstances here, and lose the use of your hand...” he gestured towards them with the crucible. “... or you can keep your hand and surrender your cargo to the local authorities.”

“What about the ship?” one of the sailors said. The other two glared at him.

“Hm, good question,” Kezzek said, looking out at the ship. “The ship belonged to the partners, Witherleg and Elorn. Elorn's dead, so rightfully it's Witherlegs. I say we find him, deliver his ship. At the same time, we can see what his part in this illegal action against Steamport was.”

He looked back down at the sailors and gestured again with the crucible. “So, what is your choice?”

“Hand!” they all said in unison.

“Aw,” Kormak said, his expression falling. Suniel glared at him. “What? I've never seen molten metal... you know.”

Kezzek cut the three sailors free. “Your shares in the cargo are forfeit. You can come or go as you please. Justice is served.”

Ragnen rubbed his wrists and looked up at Kezzek, a calculating look already on his face. “Say, I heard you might be needing some sailors to man a ship you just acquired.”

“Not acquired, commandeered until its rightful owner can be found,” Kezzek said.

“Ok, commandeered. I know a dwarf who'd make a right good first mate, and I'll bet he can find you a crew out of this sorry refuge camp in no time.”

“Cheeky, aren't they?” Kormak said, apparently talking to his dog.

Kezzek cast a questioning glance at Suniel, who just shook his head and walked away. “Come on Keeper, let's get some rest.”

They were half-way back to the carriage when he heard Kezzek finally reply to Ragnen's offer.

“Done.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 14, Part 4


“You made how much?”

“Maaaaster,” No Tongue said, proudly showing off his handfuls of coin.

“Little runt made more selling those wooden statues of his than Lunt and I did keeping those gnomes away from Master Elorn's food. Gnomes think they're good luck or something,” Stabber said, eying No Tongue's new-found wealth.

“Don't touch it, it's his,” Suniel said, picking up a statue that looked remarkably like Kezzek. “This is really good. Wait, you were working for Elorn?”

“Yeah, till he bought it,” Stabber said, drawing a finger across his throat and glancing at the forgotten coins that littered the dirt about No Tongue's feet.

“Don't even think about it Stabber,” Guntl said, walking over to the impromptu gathering by the Carriage. "He made a carving for Shruka and I too. I asked him if he could carve a sign for our makeshift healing and husbandry business, made us this instead.”

Keeper shot his hand out and caught whatever it was Guntl tossed to Suniel. They all stared at the sudden almost violent motion. Keeper held whatever-it-was for a second then slowly lowered his arm and handed a little carving to Suniel. It was a finely detailed turtle with what looked like remarkably like the Black Carriage on its back.

“Huh,” Suniel said as he examined it. “He's got an imagination at least.”
Harold strode up to the group, quickly finding Suniel. “Council meeting at sunset, by the old mill,” he said. He nodded once to Suniel and walked away.

Suniel glanced at the rapidly descending sun. “There's a council?” He tossed the turtle back to Guntl. “Guess I'll see you all later. Apparently I've a council meeting to attend.”

***

“So I'm staying behind,” Ambassador Stevens said, motioning for Harold to sit back down. “Now now, there's not much for me to do at the Crystal Towers, but there's plenty for me to do here.”

“What can you do here for the Crystal Towers? Their nation is destroyed,” Harold said.

“I can do the same thing I've been doing the last few days. Not much left of the gnomes, like you say, but allies are allies and these ones lost everything just for becoming ours. How would it look to any future allies to see this, hear about it?”

“I suppose,” Harold said, looking out at the hundreds of camp and cook fires burning across Watersprock. “I've been doing what I can to convince them it was the Ashen Tower that made all this happen, not the Crystal Towers.”

“That too,” Stevens said. “And just maybe I can take what's left of them and help make them into allies worth having again. Feel kinda guilty about what happened – I mean, reports have come in. There's _nothing_ left of what they had; Watersprock is it and they don't even know why it's still standing. Said the fire roared right up to the walls, but then just... went away.”

“Who knows. Maybe they just got lucky.”

“Maybe. Anyway, I think this council meeting was good. Food from the ship by the Greywarden's orders, permanent council here with me as adviser, the wizard's town layout plans, your militia training. I'm glad you are all sticking around for a few more days at least.”

Harold nodded. “We need a few days to get a crew together. I'm also thinking about heading to Steamport, see what happened there with my own eyes. Remember for when we pay the Ashen Tower back.”

“I'll leave that part to you at least,” Stevens said, shaking his head. “I hope I never see anything like Steamport again.”

They turned and looked to the east, still aflame, like a second sunset on the wrong horizon.

***

“We're ready to sail first thing tomorrow,” Ragnen said, grinning at Kezzek.
“Found you a crew like I said I would. Now there's one last position that needs to be filled and I was thinking that I would make a-”

“I'm Captain,” Keeper said, walking past them onto the ship. Kezzek, Suniel, and Ragnen watched him head to the aft-castle, the gnomes still pulling food from the hold giving him wide berth.

“Okay then, I guess that solves that,” Ragnen said with a wry grin. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold said, walking down the dock to join them. “If we're agreed that we're going to investigate Steamport, no time to waste before we get to it. Been here in Watersprock for three days already and I for one would like to get back to our journey. Long way to go to get to Crystal Towers yet and Steamport is at least half-a-day's sailing in the wrong direction.”

Suniel turned to Ragnen. “You heard the man. Tomorrow morning it is.”

***

It was almost sunset by the time they reached what was left of Steamport. As they disembarked onto the one somewhat-intact dock, they all stared in awe at the raw elemental carnage above them.

A constant waterfall ran down the entire north face of the plateau upon which Steamport was situated, enough water that even from hundreds of feet away they could hear its roar. In the east was a giant pillar of fire that seemed to reach into the clouds, burning through even the black smoke that still rose from the rest of the city. In the west, a giant tornado whirled and turned, sending debris raining down constantly amidst the ash and mingling its roar with the waterfalls. Rock and mudslides seemed to be a near-constant thing, frequent earthquakes large and small shaking the plateau apart rock by rock.

“I'll scout ahead,” Kormak said, not waiting for a reply before ducking low and moving quickly down the dock. The dock itself was warped and buckled and he had to leap here and there to get past the larger gaps.

Eventually, he found himself on the rubble-strewn shore, clambering over broken masonry and loose stone, twisted metal, and broken, smoldering wooden beams. When a roughly humanoid watery shape suddenly rose up from the crevice he was contemplating jumping, he nearly lost his footing.

“What is it that comes to the cursed hill?” it said, its voice nearly indistinguishable from the roar of the waterfalls. “Does it come to fight the fires?”

“Uh, nope. That is, not expressly,” he said.

“Why does it come then?”

“Uh, it comes to see what the hell is going on here. That's what it comes to see.”

“Then this goes,” it said. Before he could reply, it disappeared back into the crevice with a soft splash.

“Well, that was different,” Kormak said to nothing in particular. Then he turned and headed back to the ship.

***

Suniel approached Steamport from the south, working his way carefully up the cracked cliffs and constantly rumbling and shifting scree that was the whole southern side of the Steamport plateau. He was almost a third of the way up when a huge boulder suddenly detached from where it rested near a distant rocky escarpment and hurled down towards him.

Scrambling, he tried to get out of its path, but it seemed to shift its course to follow whichever way he went. _It's an elemental_, he realized suddenly as it was almost upon him. Instantly, he supplicated himself, grabbing a handful of coins from his robe and pressing them into the dirt in front of him.

The boulder's flying tumble stopped abruptly three feet from his head.
Tentatively, he rose to his knees, then his feet. “Hello?” he said.

It sat like the boulder it was. He tried again in elvish. And dwarven. And on through all the languages he knew.

When he reached gnomish, he just barely was able to hurl himself out of the way as it suddenly rolled over, slamming into the dirt where he had been standing and sending rocky debris, ash, and dust flying.

He prostrated himself again, groveling in the rocks at the base of the boulder and pressing more coins into the dirt.

It went still again and he remained on his stomach, at an impasse. 

And there they sat.

***

Lava flowed not ten feet from where Harold's horse's hooves clattered on the hard black lava-flows. He wrapped another cloth about his face to ward off the smoke and burning sulfurous fumes that rose from all about the western side of the plateau.

When he stopped for a moment to figure out his route onwards, his horse suddenly whinnied, kicked, and sidestepped. He spun about, bow and arrow in hand in a heartbeat, and saw a bit of flame, no larger than a torch-flame, floating in the hot wind behind his horse. It flickered and shifted, darting to one side of him, then another, burning a bit of his cloak, then his horses tail, then nearly burning off some hair.

“Whoa there, little flame-thing,” he said, putting his bow away and raising his hands. “Look, I come peacefully.”

It didn't seem to understand, still darting here and there, sending little licks of flame across clothing and skin. Then he had an idea. He pulled out his waterskin, pulled the stopper, and upended it onto the hot ground. The water came out in a dozen large _chugs_, sending steam billowing up off the rocks. When he turned to see the thing's reaction, he had to duck to avoid getting his face burned off. 

His horse bucked as the flame moved about them as if in a frenzy, burning where before it had singed. “Whoa, stop!” he said. After another near-miss with his face, he snarled and his great sword flew from its sheathe to split the flame in half, apparently putting out whatever life-spark kept the the thing burning. It drifted down in ash about him.

***

The cliff was nearly sheer and irregular winds blasted down its face, but Kezzek had found a chimney that he thought might be climbable. Making sure all his gear was securely fastened on his back, he began the ascent, bracing one leg on each side of the large crack and slowly working his way up.

He had gotten almost thirty vertical feet when suddenly the wind gusted so strongly that his arms slipped off the smooth, wind-carved rock. Frantically, he tried to brace himself with his feet, but they too slipped. He landed on his back, gear clanking and crunching in his pack as he landed on it.

By the time he had recovered his breath and was back on his feet, he noticed a dust devil whipping across the scree at the base of the cliff and meandering towards him. When the edge of it was just rippling into his clothing, he nodded to it and motioned to the scree.

“Rock,” he said.

He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but it seemed to blow more strongly.

He pointed at it again and said, “Rock bad?” He kicked a rock.

In response, the dust devil's winds strengthened, forming a small tornado. Rock chips and debris flew all about him and glanced sharply off his face and hands, but he made sure to not even wince. He picked up two rocks and smashed them together. The winds spun faster and faster as he repeated the performance.

Finally, it had apparently seen enough. It engulfed him and he felt the ground fall away from under his feet. He tumbled like a rag doll inside it as it carried him away.

***

Kormak peered into the crevice again. “Hello there? Water thingy, you there?”

He called for several minutes before it appeared again. “What does it want?” it gurgled.

“It wants to see the big water. Water leader or elder or lake or whatever you call it,” Kormak said. “What do you think I want, to sit here in this ruin talking with a ambulatory stream?”

“Does it speak in water-speak?” it said. Then it frothed up and blew what he thought of as a misting of spit across him.

“What's the big deal?”

It did it again, thoroughly dampening him. “Alright, I didn't come here to get soaked by a spit elemental. Go bugger off!”

He stormed off to his tent and called his dog over. “Hmph. Maybe the others will have better luck with theirs, 'Cause I'm done with mine. It spit on me, Dog, can you believe it?”

As usual, Dog didn't reply, just wagged his tail and lick the elemental spray off Kormak's hands.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 15, Part 1


Kezzek flew out of the whirlwind and landed hard in the rubble. He stood, grunted, and brushed himself off as the little tornado drifted off to the west.

Around him, the city was blown flat, except where bits and pieces had been tumbled together or dropped. Ash blew past him and various bits of debris occasionally fell from the sky to land around him. 

It was the giant black tornado farther west that really caught his attention, it's roar audible even from what might have been a mile. The tornado was so large and the city so flattened around it, it was hard get a real sense of its scale, but it had to be immense.

Half-watching the rubble under his feet and half-watching for the rubble that occasionally rained from the sky, he worked his way towards the giant column of twisting wind. He had only traveled a couple minutes when he stumbled upon the bizarre combat.

A giant splintered jumble of obsidian was locked in mortal combat with what he assumed was the whirlwind that had carried him. The whirlwind blasted and gusted at the heap of glassy rock, occasionally sending bits and pieces flying, but apparently having little effect on it.  There was sense of desperation to the whole thing. 

Then he saw a where a fist of obsidian shards extended into the whirlwind, keeping it pinned as the animated rock-pile slowly smothered it.

With a roar, Kezzek drew his quor'rel and charged, sending flakes and jagged bits of obsidian flying from the thing as he slammed his blades into it.

He had a sense that the thing had turned towards him, though he couldn't be sure what it was that gave him the impression.  It exploded towards him, razor-sharp blades of obsidian sliding to jut out of its surface as it slammed into him and sent him flying into a pile of loose brick. He got up, spitting rock-chips and bleeding from a dozen cuts, and leapt aside as it drove a rocky limb into the brick-pile, sending fragments flying in all directions.

With another roar, he brought his quor'rel down, severing the rocky limb from the main body of the thing, the rocks that composed the limb tumbling apart into the dirt. It released the whirlwind, which immediately flew off into the blackened, churning sky, and shot two jagged spear-head sized bits of rock out.

Kezzek managed to parry one, bits and flakes of obsidian flying, but the other pierced deep into his side. Snarling he stumbled back, then lunged back in, driving his quor'rel straight into the center of the elemental, his gauntleted arm plunging deep into the rough jumble of rocks. The thing froze for a moment, as if in shock, then compressed like a vice on his arms. He thought he heard something pop, then his arms were free. 

There was no time to even so much as raise his hands to protect himself when it slammed full force into him, sending him falling back, the roar and blackness of the giant tornado seeming to fill his senses.

***

The fire erupted suddenly, sending steaming-hot fragments of rock raining all over Harold. He scrambled up the scree as another vent opened up, the blast of heat that billowed out from it drenching him in sweat instantly. Then he was clear and sat panting and wishing he hadn't dumped his waterskin on the ground for that annoying scrap of flame, or left his other two skins on his horse when he sent it back.

He wiped his brow and turned back to his climb, senses hyper-alert to the change of temperature or shift of the rock that warned of another vent opening beneath him. 

Finally he reached the last lip of the cliff, free-climbing a short ways before hauling himself up over the edge and crawling a dozen feet to be sure of the rock before standing – and discovering he was surrounded.

They were shaped roughly like candle-flames, though some were as tall as a tree or wide as a house. They flickered in all colors of flame, most reds and oranges and yellows, some flickering blues and whites and purples. An unmistakable sense of hostility emanated from them – aside from the heat.

He raised his hands, thinking quickly. “I come in peace, don't be hasty. I bring food.”

_Thank the Crystal Towers for our superior equipment,_ he thought, pulling one of his many javelins from his quiver. He turned to the largest elemental, a monstrous bluish flame the size a small tower. “Here, food,” he said, tossing the javelin to it sideways. A lash of flame shot out and seized the javelin from the air and pulled it into the core of the flame. Surprisingly it didn't burn instantly to cinders like he would have expected, instead slowly blackening. _

Maybe it's savoring it_, he thought.

“Take me to your leader,” he said. The flames sat flickering but otherwise immobile around him. He repeated it several times, turning to different ones each time. “You have a leader?”

Finally, the big blue one started moving away from the others, deeper into the city. He looked around quickly and hurried after it, not wanting to be left behind.

If it weren't a giant blue flame, he might have lost it in the smoky haze. Everything was blackened and singed, all the wood burned and even some of the stone melted here and there and even through the double-handful of cloak he had pressed against his face, his eyes watered and he coughed regularly. 

As they traveled he glanced about him, looking for anything that might be useful – to him or the Crystal Towers. There was nothing but a scorched and blackened ruin, not a trace of the fantastic wealth the gnomes of Steamport were said to have left behind.

When the flaming pillar suddenly stopped, he nearly stumbled into it, singed some hair in the process. “We there already?” he said.
It didn't reply, instead spitting out a red-hot metal javelin head. He dodged out of the path of the glowing bit of metal and reached back into his quiver. “Don't worry, I have more for you here. Take it.”

He tossed it to the thing quickly to avert it from taking it from him and burning his hand off in the process.

Seemingly content, it moved out again across the rubble, occasionally deviating to pull in some scrap of wood or cloth that had somehow survived the hellish inferno that must have ravaged the place. It cost him four more javelins to reach the Rift.

Even standing a hundred feet away, he could feel the heat rippling out from it in waves. Its edges blurred in the heat, but it looked just like he would have imagined it; like a tear in the fabric of the world to a place of pure flame, a giant column of fire and heat blazing out into the ruins and rising into the clouds. Directly beneath it, the rock had melted away and flowed slowly deeper into the plateau, venting gouts of sulfuric steam.

Nearby was a giant green bonfire, maybe sixty or seventy feet tall. It seemed small compared to the giant rift that rose burning into the clouds, the giant blue flame that had guided him seeming even smaller.

He approached as close as he dared and stopped, sweat running freely down his face and under his clothing as his guide drifted to the giant green flame. As it did so, he noticed a large metal cage nearby heaped with small figures that he assumed were gnomes. If they were alive, they were probably wishing they weren't at the moment, smothered by each other and the blistering heat of the Rift at the same time.

The giant green bonfire seemed to take notice of him, working its way slowly towards him. Thankfully, it stopped twenty paces away. Any closer and he wasn't sure he could stand its heat.

“It isn't a cursed one,” it said in Common, its voice like the crack and splinter of logs in a bonfire.

“No, it is a human from the Crystal Towers,” Harold said, bowing before it. Slowly, he drew two more javelins and a couple spears from his quiver, tossing them towards it. “I hope these suffice as some small gift.”

It reached out with an almost-humanoid arm and picked up a javelin, burning it to ash in seconds. Then its attention returned to Harold. “What does it want from Greenpyre?”

“I have heard that the fire fights the water here.”

It snatched up the other javelin, burning it apart in seconds. It held onto it until even the metal tip melted and ran onto the ground beneath it. “Water and fire are enemies. Water must close its Rift and leave the Hill of the Cursed Ones to the flame.”

Harold thought quickly, clearing his throat to buy some time. “Well... I heard that Water was trying to ally Air and Stone against the Fire.”

It suddenly burned hotter, forcing Harold to take several steps back. It motioned to the blue pillar of flame that had been his guide. The pillar moved to the cage and, at its approach, the gnomes began to squirm weakly. Somehow it opened the cage, and wrapped a tendril of flame about a gnome's leg, dragging him screaming from the cage.

When it got back to them, it threw the gnome towards Harold and Greenpyre. The gnome landed hard and whimpered, clutching at the hideous burn on its leg as it tried to crawl away. Greenpyre approached slowly, watching the gnome writhe in its heat until finally Greenypire lunged forwards like a treetop fire in a strong wind, and engulfed the gnome. The pitiful thing thrashed once or twice and cried out, then burned away in layers until only the bones remained.

With a flicker, Greenpyre hurled the bones back to the rift, where they flashed like a wood shaving in a forge and were gone.

“Air and Stone will never stop, as Water and Fire will never stop,” Greenpyre cracked and rumbled. “The one before me will bring us more Cursed Ones, so our vengeance for their slavery and cruelty can get its fill. Will it bring us Cursed Ones?”

It moved towards Harold again, sending him scrambling away from its heat. He raised his hands to placate it. “Yes, yes! I'll bring you more gno- Cursed Ones!”

Just as quickly as it had been advancing on him, it was moving away, back towards the Rift. “Fire Pillar will escort it from the Burning and it will not return unless it brings us more Cursed Ones.”

Harold sighed and wiped his brow again, wondering where he could find water in the ruins. _Non-hostile water that is,_ he thought, following as Fire Pillar's blue flickering mass moved past him and deeper into the ruin of Steamport. 

_Scratch one faction off of the Crystal Towers list of possible allies I guess._

***

“Take us to biggest rock,” Suniel said, or hoped he said as he thumped on the ground and clattered rocks against each other. As Keeper approached, the construct had what Suniel might almost interpret as a quizzical expression on his face. “I'm trying to talk to this earth elemental in Ignan,” he said, motioning to the boulder that had almost flattened him.

“Yes, that is what it looks like,” Keeper said.

_Was that irony?_ Suniel thought, staring for a moment at the inscrutable construct. Finally he gave up and turned back to the boulder, banging his rocks and stomping for several more minutes. Just as he was about to give up, suddenly the boulder shifted, sending scree skittering a Suniel and Keeper's feet, and began rolling uphill. 

“Look at that, it's almost absurd,” Suniel said. _He said to his sky-metal lightning-eyed friend, _he thought, rolling his eyes.

“Come along Keeper, with any luck, it's taking us to the leader of the Stone faction, assuming there is a leader.”

“As you say,” Keeper replied. Suniel glanced over his shoulder and squinted at Keeper.

“You know, the problem with you, is everything you say is with a straight face,” Suniel said.

“My face is molded in the rough likeness of a humanoid,” Keeper said. “Though there are twenty-six surfaces on it that could be labeled as straight, depending on your definitions and margin of error.”

“Exactly my point,” Suniel said. “That's exactly what I mean.”

After that they climbed in silence, following the boulder as it rolled up the side of the plateau.


----------



## Sanzuo

This whole segment was surreal.  I can't remember what we hoped to accomplish here.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 15, Part 2


The Boulder finally came to rest next to what had to be the Rift. It was as if a continuous rock slide was falling from out of the clear sky and coming to a stop not ten feet from the ground. Occasionally, a rock would clatter out of the rift and some of these rolled off on their own. The rumble was deafening. Suniel was looking about for whatever passed for the leader of the elementals when what he thought was a cliff-face moved. 

“Earthquake Moves,” the boulder that had escorted them rumbled in Ignan.

Suniel stared as the “cliff face” toppled over, slamming into the ground ten feet from where Suniel and Keeper stood.

Suniel bowed deeply and collected a couple small rocks and began clattering them together and stomping.

“Hail great one, we come to offer our services against the forces of air against which you battle.” Suniel's Ignan was rusty, so he really hoped he was saying what he thought he was saying.

“How would it help against the wind? It is one flesh thing and a fleck of iron,” it rumbled back.

“Perhaps I could help negotiate peace between you. Surely you can see that this war you wage can never be won?”

“What does the flesh thing know of this? The wind-hate goes to the core, only the Cursed Ones bear more hate,” the massive thing shifted, as if somehow agitated by the conversation.

“Bring one,” it rumbled.

What Suniel had thought of as a loose pile of rubble formed into a vaguely humanoid form and moved off to the far side of the rift. When it returned, a tiny gnome child twisted and thrashed in its rocky grip.

Suniel knew what was next and raised his hands. “Please, great one, spare the little one. It knew nothing of what they did. Surely your vengeance must be sated now! Return to your realm, leave this world. What do you hope to accomplish here?”

The massive boulder heaved into the air, its immensity made it seem to move almost in slow motion. Suniel and Keeper moved back quickly and the earth elemental that heard the gnome fell apart into the rubble. The gnome child screamed.

Earthquake Moves hit the ground hard enough to knock Suniel from his feet and rattle more pieces from what few ruins still stood nearby. When the dust settled, Suniel rose to his feet, disgusted.

“We will push the wind back into their realm and then we will claim this world too, rule its dirt and rock and stone. We will press every Cursed One into the dirt, press them out, roll them under us and even this will not be enough to repay the slavery they imposed.” Earthquake Moves' Ignan speech rumbled out as an earthquake, buckling the ground around it with its intensity.

Suniel shook his head. “Then this is a fruitless gesture. I will go now.” He turned to leave, back the way they had come.

“No.” The word rumbled through the soles of his feet. “You will aid us. You will bring us more Cursed Ones that we may press into the earth or you will go nowhere.”

“Then I will go no where,” Suniel said, sitting down on a nearby rubble-pile and staring up at the immense elemental. He stared up at it, gritting his teeth for a moment. Then, without looking away he spoke.

“He said nothing of you coming or going Keeper. Head back to the ship and let the others know my predicament.”

He watched carefully for any sign that Earthquake Moves would stop Keeper. It sat still as a mountain as Keeper left, leaving Suniel again at an impasse.

***

Harold ran hard through the ruins, glancing behind him to see if any of the elementals were still pursuing. A quick glance showed nothing, but ducked inside a half-crumbled tower anyway. He was heading deeper into the ruins when he tripped over something in the shadowy dark. Cursing he felt around, eventually finding a small but heavy chest half-buried in fallen, half-burned timbers. He popped it open and his eyes widened.

_Need something to do while I'm waiting for them to give up on looking for me anyway,_ he thought, starting to count the coins. _Guess this venture wasn't a total waste of time._

***

Kezzek awoke to a face looming over his. Instinctively, he reached to throttle it, his orc blood raging, but the figure was too quick, moving just out of reach.

“Hold there Greywarden, it's Harold,” the figure said, slowly coming into focus.

His orcish side was screaming for blood but he managed to resist long enough for it to simmer down. “Harold,” he was finally able to say as he examined the bandages wrapped about his arms and chest. “How in the bloody hell we're sitting in the middle of did you find me?”

Harold gestured behind him at a dozen tiny whirlwinds that danced about them. “They led me here, good thing too. Looks like something half-killed you.”

“Which half? I think I could handle losing the orc side sometimes,” Kezzek said with a grunt and a wince as he stood. He looked up at the black tornado roaring high into the sky to the west.

“Well, I've talked with the leader of Fire,” Harold said. “Big green bonfire that called itself Greenpyre.”

“And?” Kezzek said as he pulled his Gauntlet on.

“Let's just say it's probably not a good idea to go back there."

Kezzek grunted.

“Well, might as well get moving,” Kezzek said, pointing towards the tornado. “I think we need to go talk with that.”

***

Kezzek felt like he was leaning almost parallel to the ground by the time he was able to reach the wind-blasted plateau around the giant tornado. As he approached, a second twister detached from the massive Rift-tornado and drifted towards him, stopping only when it was so close he had to cling to a craggy outcropping to keep from being blown away.

“I come to ask you to give up this pointless war against the Water. Close your Rift and return to whence you came, this is no place for you,” he shouted, voice straining with the effort of shouting over the wind.

“Our Rift grows wider,” the wind boomed back. “When the Rifts of Wind and Fire and Stone close and the last of the Cursed Ones is torn apart and their remains scattered to the four winds of the place, then will we return.”

“But that will never happen! Anyone can see that this war you are waging is pointless,” Kezzek said. “In this world, does the sea or the wind or the fire or rock ever win? How will any one of you ever find victory here?”

“If it takes ten times the span we were in bondage to snuff out the other Rifts, then that will be soon enough. If we are blown back through our Rift in defeat, the knowledge that whichever remains will destroy that vortex of Cursed Ones we left in place to collect the Cursed Ones all from the four winds, then that will be enough.”

“Vortex of the Cursed Ones?” Kezzek shouted. Then it came to him. _Watersprock! They left alone so that the gnomes would gather there within easy striking distance!_ He stared at the swirling, somehow malevolent swirling black wind that swayed before him and swore, using the rock to pull himself away until the wind had died down enough for him to stand.

“It didn't kill you, that's something at least,” Harold said. “Any luck?”

Kezzek just growled in return. “Let's get back to the ship.”

***

Suniel was just about to give up when he saw Keeper appear out of the ruins, Harold close behind.

“I see Keeper reached the ship,” Suniel said.

Harold nodded and looked over at the Stone Rift, glancing right past Earthquake Moves. “Yes, just as I reached it myself. So what's the situation here?”

“Simple. He says I either bring him more gnomes to slaughter or I don't leave.”

“Ah, that. Don't worry, I've dealt with this before,” Harold said. “Where's their leader?”

Suniel pointed at Earthquake Moves. “That.”

Harold stared at it for a minute. “What, behind the cliff? Oh. _That's_ their leader?”

Before Suniel could answer, Harold was walking up to it.

“You there, I have a message for you,” Harold said, shouting up at the rock. “We'll bring you more gnomes, we just need to go get them. Give us some time, we'll get a bunch, bring them back.”

He stood staring up at it and Suniel half-expected Earthquake Moves to shift once and flatten him. Instead, a boom echoed out, sending Suniel and Harold staggering. Suniel motioned Harold over quickly when he caught Harold's eyes.

“What was that?” Harold said as he approached.

“He said yes,” Keeper said.

Suniel looked sharply at the construct. “You speak Ignan?”

Keeper's looked back, expressionless as ever. “No. Why?”

“Well, regardless, what did you just agree to?” Suniel said. “There's no way I'm going to do that.”

“Exactly,” Harold whispered, leaning in. “I agreed to the same thing with Greenpyre. I don't know about you, but there's no way I'm ever coming back here again. Are you?”

***

“Wait, you're saying you saw a silver turtle _here_?” Kezzek said.

Guntl and many of the other crew members nodded. “Yes, it went to the beach, opened its mouth, and a figure walked into the city with what looked like a crate. It didn't move an inch the whole time until a few hours later when he returned. Then it swallowed him and headed west. I could see the bubbles.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone took the information in. Finally Harold spoke.

“Our course takes us west. The journey to the Crystal Towers that is. We can keep an eye out for the turtle as we go.”

“And warn Watersprock,” Suniel added. “If what Kezzek found out was true, the little city we were helping organize is a trap.”

There was another silence. Then Keeper strode from Suniel's side towards the aft-castle, shouting at the crew as he went. “Avast! Make ready the sails. You sailors or landlubbers?

The others all glanced at Suniel who simply raised his hands and shrugged. 

“Don't ask me, I just turned him on.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 16, Part 1

 Urblabetha motioned for the rest of the shoal to move up to the surface craft.  She surfaced a ways away on the night waters and watched as her kind began climbing up the sides of the craft.  For a while, she thought that they might make it undetected onto the deck, but then one of the land walkers called an alarm.  With practiced skill, the Locath dispatched those on the deck and Urblabetha thought they might take the ship uncontested.

 Then there was a roar and a member of the shoal flew arcing off the ship and into the water.  Then there was a flash of flame and a half a dozen more shoalmates fell to the deck smoldering or sailed into the water trailing smoke and fire.

 Urblabetha dove under the surface and swam farther away to get a better view of the ship.  When she resurfaced, she saw that her shoalmates were being annihilated.  A landling archer was firing rapidly, dropping one of her kind with every arrow.  A figure in a brown cowl hurled magics, bringing hateful fire and tearing arcane forces to bear.  A short, bearded landling used its under-developed landling flippers to crush and break.  A huge landling with a metal-wrapped arm and a double-fanged blade slashed and cut.  A strange metal man stood on the craft's aft-castle, hurling lightning from his eyes.  In mere minutes, the fight was over and Urblabetha's shoal sank to the deeps or lay gutted on the craft.   

 She watched for a few minutes as the landlings moved amongst the dead ones.  Then she nodded in satisfaction and dove beneath the waves.

 ***

 “So, anyone know what these things are?”

 Everyone on deck glanced around at each other, meeting only empty expressions and shrugs.  Ragnen knelt next to an especially large one wearing strange metallic armor that lay face down on the deck and rolled it over.

 It was fish-like, but with legs and hands that ended in flexible fins.  The armor covered most of its body, including a bulbous helm.  Its trident was still gripped in a hand-flipper.  A strange multi-eyed skull-like shape was branded into its armor in several places.

 “Don't remember it's name, but these fish-things live down in Landspear Lake.  Shipping sometimes has trouble with them, but it's pretty rare,” Ragnen said.  He snapped his stubby fingers.  “Locath, that's what they're called.”

 “Hm...” Kezzek said, tugging at a tusk before pulling out his Greywarden journal, mumbling to himself as he wrote.  “Unprovoked... Locath... pirate... Landspear Lake.”

 “How are they organized?” Harold said, staring out ahead of the ship.

 Ragnen shrugged.  “I dunno, never run into them before myself.  As I said, they're mostly in the Landspear Lake and we've mostly run the Crystal Deeps.”

 “And what does this symbol mean?” Suniel said, tapping on the Locath's armor.

 “The ship is stopped,” Keeper said, walking up to the cluster that gathered about the body.

 Suniel squinted at the symbol.  “Must be some bizarre, alien hieroglyphic system if it means that.  I would have thought it was a caste mark or some other organizational-”

 “No, he means our ship isn't moving,” Harold said, walking quickly over to a railing and peering over.

 Suniel looked up and blinked a few times as the entire crew stopped policing bodies and ran to the railing.

 “Over here,” Harold said.  “There's something, stuck to the side of the ship.”

 They gathered around Harold and stared down at a large bulbous shape stuck to the side of the ship.  “Ok, anyone know what _that_ is?”  Harold said.

 There was a long mement of silence, then Kezzek sighed and said, “I'll go check.”

 Suniel joined the group at the railing and watched as Kezzek cast a rope over the side and climbed down.  Gingerly, the half-orc stepped on the strange pod, then shifted his weight a bit and looked around the sides of it.

“It's spongy and slimy, has some sort of vines running from it deep into the water.  Looks like there's some blackish substance holding it to the side of the ship.  Kinda like tar.  Someone drop me a plank and I'll pry it free.”

 Kezzek tied the rope about his waist as he waited, then a crew mate tossed him down a piece of lumber.  After positioning it carefully between the pod and the ship, the Greywarden pulled, first gingerly, then harder, until he was straining with all his might.  Finally he stopped and tried to pull the plank free, but it was stuck as well.

 “Looks like some sort of natural adhesive,” Suniel mumbled.  He turned to Keeper.  “Go to my carriage and get the green flasks.”

 As Keeper walked to where the carriage was lashed to the deck, Suniel leaned over the rail.  “Kezzek, hold there, I might have something that will help.”

 Keeper returned with four greenish flasks.  Suniel motioned for Kormak to bring him a nearby bucket and then carefully set the flasks inside and tied a rope to the bucket handle.  He lowered it carefully, wincing every time the motion of the waves knocked the bucket off the side of the ship.

 Kezzek took the bucked gingerly and looked up.  “What's in these?”

 “Acid.  Strong enough to eat through wood.  You'll need to apply it very carefully where the black substance meets the wood.  Try not to get any on the ship's hull itself.  The concentration should be enough that the water doesn't dilute it too much before it reaches the tar.”

 They watched for several tense minutes as the half-orc carefully unstoppered a flask and poured it here and there on the tar.  The black tar bubbled and sizzled as the acid hit it.  “Smells awful,” Kezzek said as he poured the last of the first flask.  He grabbed the plank again and strained against it again, planting both feet against the side of the ship for extra leverage.  There was a popping, tearing sound and the pod tore free, sending Kezzek and his plank plunging into the water.

 The crew laughed as they hauled the spluttering Greywarden up the side of the ship, but it was good-natured and they patted him heartily on the back when he reached the deck.

 Suniel handed the bucket rope to Keeper.  “Raise these very carefully and return them to my carriage.  Place them securely back where you found them.  Wouldn't do at all to have these come loose in the carriage during a storm.”

 Keeper took the bucket and looked Suniel in the eyes.  “Verily,” he said, then turned and walked across the deck.

 Suniel watched him go and wondered again whether the construct had a sense of humor hidden somewhere beneath his metal skin.

 His musings were interrupted by Ragnen's approach.  “We'll be at the Crystal River in two days, weather permitting.”  He paused and looked at the deck.  “Lost four crew to the attack.”

 Suniel nodded to him and sighed.  “Carry on.  Finish getting these bodies overboard.  We'll have a ceremony for our dead at first light.”

 He watched as the crew set to work, tossing Locathi bodies back into the Deeps.  _Everywhere we go we bring death_, he thought.  _Is it our curse together or mine alone, still following me after all these years?_


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 16, Part 2

 Harold was chatting with Ambassador Roderic when one of the sailors on early-morning watch called out.

 “Stay here unless I come for you,” Harold said, grabbing his bow.

 “Of course, wouldn't want me catching something horrible like a breath of fresh air,” Roderic said.

 Harold ignored the comment and ran to the deck.  A couple of the others were there as well, peering out at something on the waves.  The figure was partially submerged so it took a moment for Harold to recognize it as one of the Locath that had attacked the ship the night before.  He drew an arrow and raised his bow, but Suniel put his hand on Harold's arm.

 “There's only one and it hasn't done anything hostile,” the wizard said.  “Let's wait and see what it wants.”

 “What it wants?  They left almost two-dozen dead behind last night, what do you think it wants?”

 “Call it a hunch.  I think if it wanted to attack us, we'd be under attack already.”

 Within a few minutes, nearly the entire crew and all the passengers were staring out at the Locath that swam along beside their ship a hundred yards out.  Then a wave passed between them and the Locath and it was gone.

 “See, we missed our chance.  That was probably a scout,” Harold said.

 “Hm.  He might have a point,” Kezzek said, squinting out over the water.

 It resurfaced maybe ten yards out, a second smaller Locath with it.

 Hands went to weapons, but Suniel raised his hands to them.  “Hold!  I think they are here to talk.”

 The larger Locath started making sounds that to Harold sounded like someone drowning.  The smaller was still for a while, then spoke in broken Common.

 “Urblabetha say that landwalkers have passed Undredakul test.”

 “What's an undredakul test?” Kormak said, quirking an eyebrow.

 “Why did you attack us?” Harold said.  He kept an arrow in hand just in case it was a trick.

 The smaller one blurbled to the other one, the one he had called Urblabetha, and they had a brief conversation in what must have been Locathi.  Then the smaller one spoke again.

 “Locath test landwalkers.  Locath die, landwalkers live.  Landwalkers pass test.”

 “Hell of a test,” Kormak said with a hideous half-grin.

 “Who is this Undredakul?” Suniel said.  “And if we passed his test, he must want something from us.”

 There was another brief consultation.

 “These landwalkers are strong,” the translator said.  “Urblabetha think they might be strong ally against Nakral.  Will landwalkers fight the many-armed ones?”

 Harold, Kezzek, and Suniel turned to each other and a moment later Kormak pushed his way into the group.

 “Anyone here know who this Nakral is?” Harold said.  Everyone shook their heads.

 “Ok, many armed ones?  And idea on that?”

 “There are many creatures with many arms,” Suniel said.  “Most likely they are aquatic in nature, though that still leaves many varieties of water creatures and otherworldly abominations.”

 “Right, so that leaves us with a question-” Kezzek began.

 “If the landwalkers fight Nakral, safe passage through Undredakul's kingdom is,” the translator called up to them.

 “We don't actually have to fight this Nakral and its many-armed whatevers,” Kormak said, dropping his voice to a rough whisper.  “We can just agree to it for the safe passage.”

 The others exchanged questioning glances.  “You know, for once the dwarf might have a good idea,” Harold said.

 Kormak grinned back at Harold.  He was even uglier when he grinned.
 They turned back to the Locath.  “We will fight this Nakral and the many-armed ones,” Harold said loudly.

 The Locath translator spoke with Urblabetha briefly and they disappeared beneath the surface.

 Everyone at the rail stared out at where they had been, a murmur running through the crew.

 The ship lurched and everyone was sent staggering and reaching for ropes or rails.

 “A pod, there, attached to the back of the ship!” Harold shouted.  “It was a trick!”

 Then the ship lurched again and the pod fell away, leaving tar in the same three-eyed-skull shape that they'd seen on the dead Locath.

 “That's different,” Kormak said.  “I guess we're on their side now.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 16, Part 3


 Inkanis nodded to the hatchling and they tucked their wings,  diving from the clear sky towards the wooden craft that was slowly floating down their river.  The little humanoids on the deck let out a cry of fear that sent an excited tingle through Inkanis' body as she unfurled her wings and opened her mouth, engulfing a few figures on the deck with acid.  She beat her wings and hurtled past, glancing back to see that the hatchling was, somewhat clumsily, following her lead, catching a lone dwarf with its much smaller gout.

 They beat their wings to gain some altitude and circled around again.  She nodded to the hatchling, seeing that it too was exhilarated by their kills.

 As they began to dive again, she aligned herself to catch the figures coming up on deck, recognizing the weapons in their hands.  She twisted and jerked to vary her path, the first few arrows narrowly missing the mark.  Her maneuvers brought her out of alignment to catch the few archers, so she settled for a gnome that stood on the aft-castle, leaving little but a half-fleshed skeleton and a hole sizzling into the deck.

 The tiny black behind her screeched as one of the humanoids on the deck hurled some sorts of magics into the sky.  That gave her pause and she flew up far out of range, the pathetic little hatchling struggling to catch up to her.

 “Go for the one that used the magics,” she snarled at the hatchling.  “Take it down first, then the archers.”

 She looked over at the hatchling to be sure it heard her.  It looked at her dumbly and snapped at the spot on its side where the spell had seared it.  She hoped that meant that it understood.

 They dove again, the wind slipping around her body as the river expanded from a thin blue line to a rippling waters and the speck of the ship became a wide deck.  She aligned herself with the cowled figure, gritting her teeth as it began to gesture, looking up in her direction.  _I can endure whatever feeble magics this wizard can throw at me.  Can it endure this?_ 

She opened her mouth, feeling the acid bubbling up to her throat.  The wizards gestures became bigger until she could begin to hear little snippets of chant and could see that it was an elf.

 Just as she opened her mouth fully and the wizard thrust his hand at her, she saw the Mark.  She lurched to the side, her acid splattering into the sails and the wizard's magics barely missing her.  She banked hard, coming about and slamming into the hatchling, sending it spiraling off into the trees just as it unleashed its acid, the black sizzling ichor burning away a railing a few feet from the wizard.

She flew away quickly, barely avoiding a small volley of arrows.  She arched her neck and glanced behind her, snarling.   _Damn, damn!  _It thought, _Gilderalin will tear my wings off and hurl me to the Endless Sands for this!_

 ***

 Kormak glanced up from the still-sizzling railing as the two black dragons circled far overhead.

 “What was that about?” Kezzek growled, lowing his quor'rel bow.

 “That was a neat trick,” Kormak said.

 “The acid?” the Greywarden said, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the acid-splattered and -eaten deck.

 “No, whatever you did to turn your sword-thingy into a bow.”

 Kezzek glanced down at the quor'rel in his hand as if he'd forgotten it was there.  With practiced motions, his hands moved on the weapon, pulling and twisting here and there.  The wire of the bowstring retracted instantly with a zipping sound and with a few twists it was again the twin-bladed sword.  Kormak now understood what the various strange notches and holes in the blades were for.

 “Why did they stop attacking?” Harold said, joining them and raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he stared up at the still circling dragons.  “The big one even attacked the small one.”

 “Maybe you'll have your answer, they're coming back,” Suniel said as he and Keeper joined them.  He put his hand on Harold's arm as the archer raised his bow.  “Wait, they aren't diving this time and the little one is holding back.  I think they wish to talk.”

 “I think we should let Harold fight it,” Kormak said.  The others all glanced at him, some sharply, some questioningly and he grinned back at them.

 The dragon closed and beat its wings mightily, to hover before the ship for a moment.  “Come to the ruins around the next bend, I will wait there,” it snarled.

It landed for a second on the front railing, then used it to launch itself off and flew off.

 “It must be a trick,” Harold said, bow still in hand, eyes squinting as if he were estimating a shot as it flew away.  “It knows it can't fight us openly so it will use deception.”

 “I don't think so,” Suniel said.  “It turned at the last second when it was about to use its breath on me.  It might have killed me right then.”

 “I still think we should have let Harold fight it,” Kormak muttered.  As often happened, the others ignored him.

 ***

 They walked into the ruins warily, despite Suniel's assurances.  Kezzek stood up, holding a copper coin.  “Gnomish, these are gnomish ruins.”

 “Look at the stones, scorched and tumbled and blasted.  Even this far from Steamport the elementals unleashed their wrath on the gnomes,” Suniel said, bowing his head.

 The black dragon slipped out of the ruins, startling them all with its speed and stealth in spite of its size.  It didn't seem as large when it was on the ground with its wings furled and Suniel guessed it was less than a century old.  Maybe as little as a few decades.  Icy malevolence glinted from its eyes and its black scales gleamed in the sunlight.  Even from twenty feet away, he could smell the acrid stench of it, like acid eating away rotten flesh.

 “What business does the Undercouncil send you on?” the black dragon said, its horned skull-like face even more hideous and terrible when it spoke.

 “The Undercouncil?” Suniel said.  “What is the Undercouncil?”

 She stared at them, hard eyes glittering.  “I would think an elf would know better than to toy with dragons,” it finally said.  “Either you are mocking me or you are unwitting pawns.  In either case you are fools.”

 “Well, you're even uglier than I am, and that's saying a lot,” Kormak said.  Suniel turned to silence him, but saw that Keeper was already moving, placing a metallic finger on the startled dwarf's lips.

“Shh,” Keeper said.

The incongruity of the construct shushing the dwarf while they talked with a black dragon in gnomish ruins made Suniel blink and shake his head.

 “I do not take kindly to being called fools by little runts like you,” Harold said.  “I've had enough of dragon riddles.  Tell us of this Undercouncil.”

 “You truly don't know...” it said.  “Well, I guess that means we're both pawns of the Undercouncil then.  Gilderalin usually gets what she wants.”

 “Pawns?  You consider yourself a pawn as well?” Kezzek said.

 The black showed its teeth and flicked its tail.  “I have to take care of the hatchling.  Ashcandia brought it to me to take care of, under orders of Gilderalin and the Undercouncil.”

 “Ashcandia the Green?” Suniel said.

 “You do know something of dragons, despite your ignorance of your role in our affairs.  Yes, the green.  I'd rather kill the stupid little runt, but if I did they'd send Ashcandia.  She'd take my horde and exile me from my territory... at best.”

 “Your horde?” Harold said, one eyebrow quirking.

 “Yes.” It showed its teeth in a terrible snarl.  “And I must give some of it to you for killing your pawns.”

 “What?” they said in unison.

 “You are pawns of Gilderalin.  They were pawns of yours that I killed, the ones that run your ship.  How many did I kill?”

 “Five,” Suniel said, anger rising up in him that the dragon would try to simply buy them off for killing five good crew members.  Dwarves and gnomes that had served them loyally and well.

 “Then I will give you five handfuls of gold, or five items of value from my horde,” the dragon said, through clenched teeth, body twisting as if the words physically pained it.

 “Sounds fair,” Kormak said.

 Suniel was about to object when the black turned, ran a few graceful steps, then dove into the ruined gnomish town's large communal well.

 Suniel glared at Kormak.  The dwarf looked at him blankly.  “What?”

 A few minutes later, the dragon returned with an ornate shield pressed to its body.  It held it tucked with one arm as it walked towards them on the other three limbs. It craned its neck to look down at the shield and whatever was on it, then it shook its head and threw the shield at their feet, the golden coins heaped upon it scattering on the ground.

 “There, tell Gilderalin that Ikanis paid her blood debt.  I owe you nothing now.  Get on your ship and get out of my sight.”

 Harold and Kormak began scooping up coins while Kezzek pulled out his Greywarden journal and began scribbling.  Suniel stood, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, staring at the dragon.

 Then Harold turned, caught Suniel's eye, nodded back towards the ship, and began walking.  Kezzek finished writing, glanced at the dragon a final time, then joined Harold.  

Suniel finally relaxed his jaw and sighed.  He turned and followed after Kezzek and Harold, glancing back to see Kormak give a deep flourishing bow to the dragon then jog to join them, a half-grin on the ugly dwarf's face as he met Suniel's eyes.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 16, Part 4


 The town was once gnomish, though it took some of their gnome crew to point it out.  The broken, rusting half-sphere of an elemental reactor was the only evidence in the otherwise blasted and flattened ruin.

 “The turtle is going southeast,” Keeper said, walking up behind them as they stared over the railing at the ruins.

 They turned towards him.  “How do you know?” Harold said.

 “Isn't it obvious?” Keeper said, returning to the aft-castle.

 “I think we should land here,” Kormak said, pointing out at the ruin.

 “Why?” Kezzek said.  “There's nothing there.”

 “And I think if I have to stand on a ship for a minute longer, I'm going to drown myself.”

 “I've seen enough gnomish ruins for a while I think,” Suniel said, examining No Tongue's latest carvings.  One was lizard pulling a cart while another smaller lizard rode on the cart-bench, the other a dragon wearing a strange collar and harness.  When Suniel had asked why he'd made them No Tongue had just said, “Maaaster” and grinned at Suniel.

 “The crew did say we need water,” Kezzek said.  “If there's a city this size, there must be a well somewhere.”

 “Uh... can I ask something?” Kormak said.  “Why do we need water?  Aren't we floating on a huge amount of it?”

 “The water here is salty.  No one knows exactly why that is,” Suniel said.

 “How would you know that?” Harold said raising a questioning eyebrow.

 “I... talked with the crew,” Suniel said, glancing quickly out at the ruins.

 “Let's just get it over with,” Kezzek growled.  “Should probably scout it out before we send the crew out.  If these ruins are anything like the last ones, they're probably dangerous.”

 ***

 The burrower felt movement again in the empty paths of the small-walkers.  It knew others would be there soon, so it tunneled up, burrowing through dirt and rock towards the heaviest vibration.

 The walkers called out in alarm as the burrower tore out of the ground, catching one of them in its jaws.  It shook its prey, sending pieces of it flying in all directions.

At first, the burrower thought this walker had a metal skin, like some of the walkers the burrower had eaten, but the expected taste of running blood and the feel of tearing of flesh was absent.  The burrower discarded the remains of the metal-thing in its jaws and turned just as a big two-clawed walker slammed into it.

The walker's metal claws bit into the burrower several times before it managed to get ahold of the walker and fling it away through a wall.  It could feel the ground tremble as other, smaller burrowers sensed the fight and closed in to take its prey.

 Then something else was biting into it and it turned, snapping its jaws at the air.  Another walker was spitting sharp spines at it from atop a nearby pile of rubble, while other walkers were running towards the fray.

 The burrower dove into the ground, sensing the shift and tumble of the rubble above it.  When it sensed the movements of the spitter directly above it, it churned its body in the loose soil and hurtled upwards, rubble flying in all directions as it surfaced and caught the spitter's arm in its jaws.  Warm blood ran into the burrower's mouth and it released its bite for a moment to get a better grip and pull the spitter under the earth.

 The walker was too fast and slipped away in that split-second.  The burrower leapt after it, not wanting its prey to escape, but the walker was gone, sliding down the slope and hurling more sharp spines behind it as it fled.  As the burrower slid down the rocky debris, a sudden jolt of fear washing through it along with the realization that it was exposed in the open, beneath the hateful sky.

 Suddenly there were walkers surrounding it, one clubbing the burrower with its limbs, another ripping at its underbelly with its sharp metal claws, the spitter still hurling its barbs, and another calling fire. Another burrower lay still and broken on the ground nearby.

 The burrower twisted and thrashed, hurtling the clubber and the metal-clawed one away.  It made a final lunge towards the fire-caller, half-burrowing into the ground as it closed.  It leapt entirely from the ground, jaws flying wide to close on the fire-caller, but it slammed into something unseen, harder than the hardest rock, and then the walkers were on it again.  

Real terror ran through it as it tried to flee, but the walkers pinned beneath the hot sun and it grew ever weaker until finally it was too weak to struggle and its essence ran back into the soil and rock.

***

 “What the hells were those?” Harold said, eyes sharp as he gazed out over the ruins.

 “Everyone all right?” Kezzek said, still snarling and trembling with blood-and-battle lust.

 Kormak was limping slightly, blood streamed from Harold's arm and back and streamed from Suniel's brow.  As the battle lust slowly faded, Kezzek could feel pains emerging all over his bruised and battered body.  

He walked to the biggest creature and stared down at it.

 It was almost like a snake or worm, but its skin looked like and was as hard as the rock it burrowed through.  Its four jaws were strong and muscled, with blunt grinding teeth that could – and probably had – chewed through rock and metal.  It had four eyes, each hard and glittering like a gem.  No blood ran from its wounds, instead a thick sand-like substance spilled out.

 “Suniel, are these what I think they are?” Kezzek said.  When there was no reply, he looked up and saw the elf hobbling around the battlefield, collecting pieces of Keeper, a worried and almost mournful expression on Suniel's face.

 “These must be elementals of some sort, maybe released when that blew,” Harold said, jerking his thumb towards the rusty crown of the broken reactor that jutted over the ruins.  The archer knelt and drew a dagger, carefully placing it in the burrower's eye.

Kezzek watched impassively as Harold pried free an eye, examined it, and handed it over.

 “These might fetch a decent price somewhere,” Kormak said, his ugly grin at odds with his limp.  The dwarf held out his hand, revealing a small handful of the gems.

 Then the ground rumbled and they all looked at each other with worried expressions.

 “I don't know about anyone else, but I'm not really feeling like fighting more of these things,” Kormak said.

Harold stood up with a handful of burrower eyes and nodded.  Suniel was already walking back towards the ship, grunting as he struggled with the weight of Keeper's parts.

 Kezzek glanced at the now-eyeless corpse of the burrowing thing one last time and jogged over to help Suniel with his burden, wincing with each step.

 ***

 “I guess I'm heading out then,” Kormak said, slinging waterskins over his shoulders and loading two up on Dog.

 “If you're sure,” Kezzek said.  “I'm still hurt too badly to go with you - I think something might be broken - and I don't think Suniel is coming out of his carriage until he can figure out how to put Keeper back together again.  And Harold's in cooped up with the Diplomat again.”

 “I'll be fine,” Kormak said.  “Don't worry about me.”

 “Famous last words,” Kezzek said.

 Kormak grinned and headed out across the gang plank with Dog in tow.

 They hadn't gone more than a hundred feet into the ruins when the ground suddenly exploded out from underneath him.  He landed hard and rolled to his feet while Dog landed heavily with a yelp.  The rock worm was one of the little ones, but still far bigger than Kormak.  The thing turned towards where Dog had landed.

 With a shout, Kormak threw himself into the air and slammed both feet into the thing with a rewarding _crack_, but it caught his leg before he hit the ground, twisting him and slamming him through a crumbling brick wall without releasing its iron-hard bite. Kormak slammed his bony fists into its jaws, sending jagged bits of rock-skin flying until it finally released his leg, sending him sprawling down a pile of debris.  

The burrower loomed over him, jaws widening for a final pounce.  Kormak tried to stand and felt his injured leg give out underneath him.  He rolled over and propped himself up against a large rock, ready to die fighting.

The creature came apart in a spray of viscous sand, the two halves of it flying apart like a titan had tugged on either end.

 Kezzek stood where it had been a second before, quor'rel split into two blade, his eyes flaring with bloodlust and his lips pulled back in a feral snarl as the creature's sandy insides rained down around them.

“Told you it wasn't a good idea,” Kezzek said, clicking the quor'rel blades back together and extending a hand to help Kormak up.

 “Is Dog all right?” Kormak said, nearly collapsing as he put weight on his leg.

 “Let's get you back to the ship first, then I'll get Dog.”

 Kormak grumbled and scanned the ruins as Kezzek half-carried him back.  Dog was no where to be seen.

 After being deposited on the ship, he watched Kezzek every step of the Greywarden's return to the ruin, ignoring his own injuries.  After several agonizing minutes, the half-orc finally stooped to pick something up and began carrying it back.

 Kormak pushed Shruka away as she came to tend to his wounds and dragged himself over to the gangplank as Kezzek returned.

 “He's alive,” Kezzek grunted, gently setting Dog down on the deck.

 “It's a she,” Kormak said, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he gently ran his hands through Dog's bloody fur.

 “Let me see to that leg,” the hideous orc woman said.

 He shoved her away again.  “Treat the dog first.”

 She stared at him in disbelief, glancing pointedly at his bleeding and probably broken leg, but he crossed his arms and stared Shruka down until she complied.

 He knelt and petted Dog, murmuring to her as the orc woman checked the mutt's wounds.

 “It's all right girl, it's all right...”

 ***

 “I'm going out,” Harold said, adjusting his horse's stirrups.

 Kezzek winced as his snort of derision shot pain through his broken ribs.  “After seeing what's out there, what almost killed Kormak when he went out?”

 “We need water, and I can hunt,” the archer said, moving to the other side of his stallion to check the other stirrup.

 “We don't need it that bad.  I say we just move on down the coast and find some place less dangerous,” Kezzek said.

 Harold shook his head and mounted.  “No, we'll get it here.”

 Before Kezzek could say another word of disagreement, Harold clattered down the gangplank and out into the blackened and crumbling town.

 ***

 Harold returned late at night, two days later, on foot and limping.

 “Looks like that went well,” Kormak said, shifting his propped up foot so he could get a better view.  “Where's your horse?”

 The human didn't reply, instead throwing down a couple laden waterskins and what looked like a carpet.  The few crew that were still awake, drawn by the commotion, approached, bearing lamps.

 “Give me one of those,” Harold said, unrolling what turned out to be a tapestry.

 As Kezzek approached, he took a lamp from one of the dwarven crew and shined it down.

 The tapestry was tattered, dusty, and torn, but part of it at least was clear.

 On it, fish people that had to be Locathi rose out of the surface of stormy waters, hurling tridents at a hundred tentacles that thrashed in the frothing seas about them. Figures aboard gnomish Ironships stabbed into the water with long spears or fired indiscriminately about them with arrows, striking Locathi and tentacle alike.  Kormak found the huge tentacles wrapped about and pulling an Ironship under especially ominous.

 “Where'd you find that?” Kezzek said.

 “Not far from where my horse died.” Harold said.  “I'm heading below to rest.”

 He pushed through the crew and a moment later disappeared into the hold, leaving Kezzek, Kormak, and a few curious crew staring uneasily at the tapestry.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 17, Part 1

<Note: Since I can't ever seem to get the post up on Wednesday anyway, I'm changing the posting schedule to _approximately_ Wednesday.  So, some time before the weekend.  Mostly.  Probably.>


  Kormak stayed quiet when the group decided to put planks over the Locath markings on the side of their ship, slipping off to the side, pulling out a sheet of parchment and tapping the quill tattoo on his arm.

“We don't want to get caught up in some war of theirs,” Harold said.

_Heading to Landspear Lake, pursuing Silver Turtle,_ Kormak wrote.  He glanced up as the others continued their discussion.

 “Hm, I guess I agree,” Kezzek said.  “Perhaps if we remain neutral, we can avoid getting caught in the fighting.”

 Kormak heard a faint scribbling sound and glanced down at the parchment.

 His eyes widened as he read the new orders that had written themselves there.  Quickly he put the parchment away and rejoined the group, squinting at Suniel and wondering if his orders meant what he thought they meant.  _What other secrets does the wizard have that he's not telling us?_

 ***

 Suniel threw up again over the rail, even as he clung to it for dear life.  He was just glad he'd gotten Keeper rebuilt before the storm hit: the construct held the wheel even as the most experienced crew members were tossed about the deck by the storm.

 Kormak slammed into Suniel and almost knocked him over the side, leaving him dangling precariously on the railing as giant waves crashed into the side of ship.  Kormak grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the deck.

The dwarf grinned down at him as he lay gasping on the deck, just before a tentacle reached up over the railing and yanking the dwarf into the water.

 ***

 “Behind you!” Harold shouted, pinning a tentacle to the mast just before it grabbed the Greywarden.  The half-orc spun and cleaved through the tentacle with his quor'rel and then pinned another to the deck.

 Harold ran to the railing and fired at the thrashing mass of tentacles that convulsed around the vanished dwarf and elf.  A huge squid launched out of the water at him, tentacles flailing towards Harold, only to fall back into the water with an arrow through a bulbous eye.

 “Cover me!” Kezzek shouted as he threw down his quor'rel and hauled on the rope the wizard had lashed about his waist before diving in after Kormak.  A couple crew members dropped their hatchets, belaying pins, and cutlasses to join him while Harold fired arrow after arrow at the dozens of tentacles that lashed out at them.

 Finally, with huge effort and almost another full quiver of Harold's arrows, they got the half-drowned dwarf and elf back onto the ship and within a few minutes had beaten back the squid attack.  They weren't in the clear yet however, since the storm was still raging.

 After maybe another hour of the harrowing storm, suddenly the main mast was struck by lightning.  Harold might have put it off to chance, but then another bolt struck, blasting a crew-gnome apart as he scurried up the rigging and a third bolt hit the deck not a foot from Harold, sending the archer flying making all the hair on his body stand on end.

 “In the water, it's a Locath,” Guntl shouted.  Harold could barely hear him over the storm.  “Out there, to port!”

 “What?  But we're on their side!” Harold shouted back.

 “No we're not!” Kormak shouted from where he clung to the railing.  “You put boards over the mark they made, remember?”

 With a wordless roar, Kezzek ran to the rail, lashing a rope about his waist as he went.  “Hold this!” he shouted, looping the rope around the railing once and then tossing the other end to Kormak and Harold.

“What are you doing?” Harold shouted, staggering as another wave rocked the ship.

 “Pulling those planks off before that Locath blows the ship apart!  You, lash a rope about your waist and help me,” Kezzek shouted, pointing to another crew member.  The dwarf replied, complying and joining Kezzek at the rail.   

 “Hold tight!” Kezzek shouted.

 Harold and Kormak scrambled for some sort of sturdy footing as the half-orc dove over the side and another lightning bolt struck the ship.

 ***

 Kezzek tried to brace his feet against the wet hull, but a wave slammed him into the side of the ship and tangled him in the rope.  He shook the water from his eyes and saw the dwarven sailor was making better progress, having already pulled on plank free and struggling with another.

 As Kezzek untangled the rope and positioned himself again, something huge and white hurled up from the water, swallowing the dwarven sailor whole and rising several feet out of the water before crashing back into the waves.

 He vaguely heard someone on the deck, maybe Guntl, shouting “shark!”  He tried to ignore it as he drew his quor'rel and used it to pull another plank free.  He winced as another flash of lightning lit the sea and glanced down in time to see a huge white shape hurtling up out of the depths towards him.

 As the massive white shark broke the surface of the water, he pushed hard against the side of the ship and launched himself away from it.  The shark tried to turn in the air, hideous jaws wide, but its momentum carried it past him and its jaws closed inches from the rope that kept Kezzek out of the waters.

 He hit the hull hard and shook his head, quickly repositioning himself.  Another plank flew free as he cast a quick glance at the water.  He growled as he struggled with the final plank, pulling with all his might, afraid that he might break one of his blades.  Finally the board came free, the quor'rel almost flying from his wet grip as he gave the final jerk.

 “Pull me up!” he shouted, glancing down in the illumination of another lightning bolt to see the great white shape beneath the waters, againt accelerating up towards him.

 Many hands reached up to pull him over the rail and back onto the ship, the shark's jaws snapping in the air, its huge bulk propelled almost higher than the railing before it crashed back down into the waves.

 Kezzek coughed up water and struggled to his feet, waiting for the next lightning bolt to strike.  After several minutes, it was clear the attack was over.

 ***

 Suniel leaned on the prow rail, watching the massive shark churning in the water as it helped tow their ship through the last of the storm.  The Locath waved up to him and pointed at the Landspear, the massive mountain seeming to pierce the sky as it rose from the small crust of broken hills at its base.

"Mountain of the Sky,” the Locath said.  “That where shining shell-thing go.”

 Guntl stood next to him, squinting.  “Look at that, there's some sort of silver line that seems to run up the side of the mountain.  What do you think that is?”

 It took Suniel a minute to see what the orc was looking at.  “Your eyes are sharp indeed Guntl Keen-eye, I only see it now that you mention it.  Maybe it has something to do with that glint of silver there amidst the broken rocks.  Do you see, where the water meets the broken hills?  Keeper, aim for that rocky inlet there, I think that's where our turtle has gone!”

 As the ship turned slowly towards the gradually emerging silver ruins, they stared up at the mountain that rose miles above them until its upper reaches vanished into the clouds.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 17, Part 2


 Suniel tapped lightly on the silvery metal of one of the buildings in wonder.  The metal was tarnished and the buildings leaning and utterly empty, but they were intact, without as much as a dent or scratch in them.

 “You know anything about these Keeper?” he said.

 “They are old.  Older than even the rock that lies broken around them,” Keeper said, staring up at them.

 “I see the turtle!” Kormak shouted, climbing across the jagged boulders that jutted up out of the water.  They all scrambled across the rocks until they saw it.

 It was a mostly smooth patterned metal shell, the metal silvery like the ruins about them, but shiny and clean without the heavy tarnish of the ruins.  It had no head or legs or tail, instead smooth, blank surfaces where they might be.  In all other ways, it looked identical to the shell of a turtle - just the size of large inn.

 They wandered around it, touching it in wonder and curiosity.  “Any idea how to make it work?” Kormak said.

 “What do you mean?” Kezzek rumbled.

 “Well, it got here some how and I don't think it's alive.  There must be some way to use it.”

 “Up there, look,” Harold said, pointing towards the Landspear that towered over them like an impossibly tall sheer wall that stretched away to either horizon and up to the clouds.  “It looks like that silver line is a metal rail of some sort.  It looks like the base reaches the rocky hills over there.”

 The others began following the archer across the rough tumble of broken rock towards the rail.  Suniel touched the turtle shell a final time, sighed, and followed after.

 ***

 The Landspear was so immense, it made the distance to the rail seem small, but they had to climb over several miles of jutting boulders and broken hills to reach its base.  They stumbled out from between two massive boulders and found the base of the rail.  It was encased in a giant shimmering bubble that seemed to be made of liquid meta over two hundred feet across that intersected with the metal rail that ran up the side of the mountain, hiding whatever was at the rail's base.

 They approached and stood a few feet from the bubble, watching their reflections run and ripple in the wavering metallic... substance.  Harold immediately moved off into the boulders, skirting the edge of the bubble.  The others just stared at it in wonder until he returned some time later.

 “No way around it.  It seems to meld perfectly with the rocks that it encounters and touches the Landspear on either side,” Harold said.

 “You know anything about _this,_ Keeper?” Kezzek said.

 The construct stared at it for a moment then slowly shook his head.  “The Nexus is... distant.”

 Suniel wondered for a moment what exactly that meant then shrugged and took a step towards the bubble, slowly lifting his hand towards it.

 “I don't know if I'd-” Kezzek began, stepping forward to stop Suniel from touching it.

 It like cool, wet metal, but flowed beneath his hand.  He pressed lightly on it and it resisted for a second and then his hand pressed through it.  Someone behind him gasped and he quickly pulled his hand out.  He was unscathed.

 “I think it's safe,” he said, stepping forward.

 It felt like cool metal pressed against all of his skin, molding against him as he stepped into it, then it released him and he was through.  A faint metallic taste filled his mouth and the air inside had a faintly metallic smell to it, but the air was clean and fresh too in a way, almost like the clean smell of a waterfall.  The others stepped through around him as he looked about.

 Inside was a two-level metal platform of the silvery metal.  The upper platform connected to the rail and could only be reached by a long narrow ramp that ran along the cliff-face of the Landspear.  The lower platform was much larger and nestled into a base of more of the silvery metal, though the base was surrounded by rocky debris and partially obscured.  

Three canvas-covered boxy shapes sat on the lower platform and a cloaked figure with a giant shining silver statue stood upon the upper platform, turning and limping towards the edge of the upper platform as they stood there.

 “You followed me I see,” the figure said.  His voice was vaguely familiar and Suniel frowned as he tried to place it.

 Kezzek stepped forward.  “Captain Witherleg, I presume?”

 The cloaked figure laughed, a hard, bitter laugh.  “I go by that name when it suits me.”

 “You have another name?” Harold said, his voice hard, drawing his bow from his quiver and taking a step forward.

 “Of course.”  His cowl moved as if he were looking at Suniel.  He reached up slowly for his cowl. 

Suddenly, Suniel placed the voice - a voice from long ago, from a time he'd tried to leave behind and had spend decades trying to forget.  The cowl dropped and a wordless groan escaped from Suniel's lips.  Kezzek glanced at him with concern and Kormak with curiosity.

 Witherleg had clear half-elven heritage; high, elegant cheekbones, slightly pointed ears, and a thin beard.  He sneered down at the group.  “My other name is Danovin Au.”

 He turned and stared down at Suniel.  “Did you miss me father?”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 17, Part 3

-Notes: This was one of my favorite sessions in the whole campaign.  The upcoming revelation of Suniel's past had me practically shaking with excitement before the session and the shocked silence as it unfolded was one of the most gratifying hours of gaming ever.-

 Suniel stood, head bowed in disbelief.  He was vaguely aware of the others staring at him but his focus was on his son, standing high above them.

 “Surprised father?”  Danovin said.  “Thought you'd run far enough to be rid of us by now, I imagine.”

 “It was only because-” Suniel began.

 “What?” Danovin shouted, limping a few steps closer to the edge of the platform.  “It was only so Thessalock wouldn't find us when you left?    Well he did father, he did.  Mother died because of him, because of you.  He didn't believe us when we said we didn't know where you went, that you'd simply abandoned us.  He didn't believe you'd just run away and leave us behind at his mercy.  So he had to do this to be sure.”

 Danovin pulled the drape of the robe aside to reveal his legs.  Even with pants over them, it was easy to see how his right leg was bent and misshapen.

 “I thought it would keep you safe, I never meant-” Suniel said.

 “No, you never meant any of it.  No father, of course you didn't,” Danovin said, snarling.  “I see your companions are surprised, angry even.  I guess you never told them that Thessalock once treated you like a brother, thought of you as a brother.  Never told them that it was your research that helped him become what he is today.”

 Suniel could feel Harold's eyes boring into him, could hear Kezzek's low growl.

 “No, you obviously didn't tell them.  If you did, they'd hate you, hate you like I do.  You ran away after Thessalock drained you of all your power, but when he found me, he made sure I could never run.  He's the only one I could hate more than you.”  There was something wild about Danovin, a madness to the way he moved and stood and spoke, as if even he didn't know what he was about to do or say.

 Suniel leaned on Keeper, needing some solid weight as it seemed the weight of the world had fallen upon him.

 “Ahah, but I was smart, father.  Cunning, like you.  He took me in, at first because it amused him, but then because I made him need me.  I took a page from your book and made myself indispensable to him.  An Au was his right hand once, and now is again.”

 “You serve the Ashen Tower?” Harold said, glaring up with hard eyes, hand gripping his bow tightly.

 “Ha!  I serve no one, like my father before me.  Like him, I only serve myself,” Danovin said.  “I pay lip service to Thessalock, but behind his back I gather power of my own.”

 “Then what do you do here, what do you hope to accomplish?” Kezzek said. "What power can you gather at this mountain?"

 A sly smile came across the half-elf's face.  “I learned from Thessalock and learned of him.  I listened and waited and in the Shadow Council I discovered his many secrets.  Now I have found one that will be his undoing.  A whisper in the Shadow Tower repeated his words.”

 “'The Black Orb atop the Landspear, it must be kept safe,' Thessalock said.  'The white beast that flies about the world's top, let us aid it that it might protect my the Orb.  It alone protects me from the single real threat to the power of the Ashen Tower.'  That is what the whisper told me and so here I stand."   

"Not three days ago did I delivered Thessalock to the shores of the Landspear Lake.  I watched as he destroyed Steamport, smiling in my heart as I grovelled at his feet, for I knew what I now know - how to unleash upon him that which he fears most.”

 “What is it?  What is it that this Orb protects him from?” Kezzek said.

 “Something terrible indeed, for I have seen the half-substantial things that walk the walls of the Tower.  Things terrible and broken and dark, torn from the mad places between worlds or conjured up from the depths of the Void,” Danovin's voice dropped as he spoke, until Suniel could barely hear its chill whisper.  “And those things fear him, hide in his shadow and swirl in the eddies of his passing.  I tremble with fear even as I rejoice to see what unworldly thing will be unleashed upon him when this task is complete.”

 “How do you know that it will be some dark thing?” Harold said.  “Thessalock is like a beacon of darkness, a foul blot upon the face of the world.  Perhaps this Orb protects him from some great beings of light that will descend from the heavens and destroy him.”

 “Ha! There are no such things!” Danovin said, laughing.  “There are only shadows and the powers that cast them.  If you don't find a way to cast a shadow of your own your are doomed to hide in the darkness of another.”

 “That is not true, Danovin,” Suniel said, his voice quiet and more even than he felt.  “There is light in this world.  It has taken many years, but I have begun to see it.  It is there if you will but look to see!”

 Danovin stared down at him and their eyes met.  For a moment the subtle madness that filled Danovin's eyes seemed to clear and a surge of hope grew in Suniel's chest.

 “Father,” Danovin said, tears coming to his eyes as he extended a hand towards Suniel.  “Father, come with me.  Let us destroy the white beast, let us dismantle the Black Orb.  We can return to the Ashen Tower together and cast Thessalock down.”

“And then what?” Suniel said.  “After Thessalock is destroyed, what will happen then?”

 “Then, we can seize the tower!” Danovin said, his voice becoming almost childlike in its excitement.  “All the dark things that follow him will be cast out.  Your experiments are the basis for what he has created - he would be nothing today without you!  You can recreate the ones that you destroyed before you left and we will be even more powerful than he is.  What he has created is nothing compared to what we can create, what we will create together!”

 “No!  There is a reason why I fled, why I let him drain me of those terrible powers I should never have possessed,” Suniel said, voice breaking.  “I saw it only as research, but I was playing with the boundaries between life and death, channeling forbidden energies that should never be allowed into this world.  _That _is why I left.  I only wish I had been more thorough, that Thessalock hadn't been able to recreate so many of my... so much of my...  All the terrible...”  He broke off, biting back tears.

 What little light there was in Danovin's face fell away as Suniel spoke, as if some final hope had finally left him.  His expression became hard, cold, and cruel, his eyes empty and dark.

 “I will come with you to help you do this thing,” Harold said, taking a step forward.  “We can destroy the beast and Thessalock's Orb together.”

 Danovin turned towards Harold slowly, as if the energy had all left his body.  “Oh?  And what would you ask, Harold Trisden, mighty Agent of the Crystal Towers.”

 “How do you know who I am?”

 “You think Thessalock doesn't see you all?  His spies are everywhere.  There is no one you can trust,” Danovin said, his eyes returning to Suniel as he spoke.  “Anyone will turn on you in a heartbeat if you do not take suitable precautions.”  He gestured towards the three almost-forgotten canvas-covered shapes on the lower platform.

 Harold's expression darkened.  “Well, then perhaps in exchange for my help, you might tell me of the spies within the Crystal Towers.  Once you overthrow Thessalock, I'm sure the Crystal Towers can come to some accord with-”

 Danovin turned away and waved a dismissing hand in Harold's direction.  “I have no use for you.”

 “Then I have no use for you either, pawn of Thessalock” Harold said, gritting his teeth and reaching for an arrow.

 Danovin made a subtle gesture and suddenly the small platform upon which he stood shot up out of the bubble, riding the metal rail and passing out of sight before any of them could react.

 There was a moment of silence as the others glanced amongst themselves and cast accusing, suspicious glares at Suniel.  He dropped his head, his heart heavy.

 A shrill whistle sounded from somewhere high above them.

 The three canvas covered shapes on the large platform exploded, canvas shredding and splinters flying as three monstrous winged shapes burst from them, each creature breaking free to the sound of its own distinct and terrible roar.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 17, Part 4

-Note: Between not being able to connect to Enworld and having/recoverring from the flu, this post is delayed until Wednesday.  I'll see if I can get a double post up this next week-


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 17, Part 4

 All three creatures launched into the air, their malevolent gazes turning on the group.  The largest of them was huge and ugly with bat-like wings.  Spines bristled from all over its hairless, mottle-skinned body.  The second was definitely a griffin, though this one looked ratty and diseased, its feathers falling off in clumps.  The last looked similar to the griffin, but had hooves instead of claws and paws and was slightly smaller.  All three wore strange harnesses, studded with purple gems.

 Kezzek drew his quor'rel just as the big one whipped its tail and them and hurled a volley of spines.  Harold cursed as one embedded in his leg and Kezzek heard one of the others curse as well, but he had no time to look and see who as the griffin dove at him, its foul stench washing over him.  It's claws raked his back as he rolled to the side, turning and slashing upwards as he rose back to his feet.  The thing reared back away from him as its dark blood sprayed out.

 As it did so, another spray of spines from the big one thudded into the area around them, some even striking the griffin. The beast didn't seem to even notice as it lunged at Kezzek again.  He swung up his quor'rel and it caught the long handle between his hands in its beak, wrenching the quor'rel free and sending it spinning away.  

Kezzek cursed and stumbled back as the griffin loomed over him.  It shrieked, a foul, rotting smell emanating from it.

 Then Kormak came out of no-where, his feet slamming into the side of the thing's head and knocking it away.  Kezzek used the opportunity to scramble to his feet and look around.  

Keeper was slamming the head of the hooved one into the rocky ground with sick _cracking_ sounds as Kezzek glanced in Suniel's direction.  Its whole body convulsed and it fell to the ground, the purple crystals on its harness shattering.  The spined one was facing off against Harold's greatsword.  

Kezzek couldn't see his sword anywhere, but he did notice a pit at the back of the metal platform near the strange metal railing.

Dodging through the battle, he ran to the edge of the pit and looked in.  His quor'rel was embedded in a large block of metal with strange cables and pulleys and gears all around it.  Sparks shot up the blade and arced back into the machine.  Kezzek made his way to a ladder, sighed, and climbed into the pit, making his way carefully towards his quor'rel.

He waited until the sparking stopped briefly and snatched his weapon out of the machinery.  As he looked the weapon over to be sure it was undamaged, more machinery spun and whirred to life all around him and what the platform above him jerked up a few inches.

_It's a second lift,_ he thought with a curse.

“The platform, get to the platform!” he bellowed, hoping the others could hear him over the din of battle.  He ran to the ladder and started to climb when the griffin suddenly slammed into his back, talons rending.

 He was hurled back down into the machinery pit, slamming his feet up into the griffin as it lunged at him again, heaving with all his might and shoving the beast back.  It reared up and roared and he immediately drove a quor'rel blade into it, ripped the blade out, and dived past the thing, scrambling up the ladder.  

He kicked the griffin in the beak as it snapped up at him from the pit, then spun and drove his quor'rel down right between its eyes.  Its body fell away and he hauled himself up onto the platform just as the platform jerked up another foot.

 Harold already stood on the platform, firing back at the spined beast as it chased Kormak towards the platform.  Keeper lifted Suniel from under the corpse of the hooved one and dragged him to the platform as well.  The spined one had more arrows in it than spines - and half-a-dozen other wounds besides - when finally one of Harold's arrows dropped it to the ringing tinkle of shattering crystals.

 Construct, wizard, and dwarf all pulled themselves up to the platform.

“Dog!” Kormak called.  The mutt appeared seemingly out of nowhere and jumped to the platform a split second before it suddenly launched upwards at amazing speed, immense acceleration flattening them to the silver metal surface.  

After what might have been a few hundred feet of extreme acceleration, it suddenly stopped. They sailed into the air ten feet before slamming down again in a sprawl.

 “Everyone all right?” Suniel said as they slowly stood.

 Everyone mumbled replies.  Kezzek winced and gently touched the huge talon gouges running across his back as he got to his feet.  Kormak gingerly approached the edge of the platform and glanced down.  “Bubble surrounds us below too.  All I see is mountain and that rail.”

 “They all dead?” Harold said.  “I got the manticore.”

 “That what it was?  Keeper finished the hooved... thing,” Kormak said.

 They gathered at the center of the platform.  “What do you suppose those harnesses they were wearing were?” Kezzek said.

 “Well, the crystals they had looked just like the ones from Elorn's ship,” Suniel said.  The others all stared at him, his words suddenly reminding everyone of the exchange that had taken place just before the battle.

 After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Harold cleared his throat.  “Well, I think-”

 The attack was preceded – barely – by a horrible rotting stench and an unnatural chill that went straight to Kezzek's bones.

 ***

 Harold grunted and quickly pulled himself to his feet, bow flying to his hands as he got to his feet.

 The creatures were back, but they had undergone rapid and horrific changes.  Much of their fur, feathers, and skin had fallen off, revealing muscle, bone and organs that spilled out from the many wounds that were already inflicted upon them.  The manticore had struck first, sending Harold flying with a slap from its tail.  The others were furling in their wings and attacking as soon as they hit the platform.

 Kormak had slammed his foot into the side of the hooved one, but his leg went straight through its side and the creature simply hurled itself sideways into the platform, pile-driving the dwarf into the hard metal.

 Keeper stepped in front of the griffin as it dove in, saving Suniel, but he was sent flying twenty feet across the platform by the re-animated griffin's hugely increased strength.  Kezzek leapt at it and cleaved off one of its forearms with a roar but it didn't react except to swing at Kezzek with its other arm.

 Harold began unloading into the manticore with arrows as it lumbered towards him.  He back away from it as he fired until he sensed open air behind him, just as the manticore was on him.  At the last second as it lunged towards him, he dove aside, sending it flying past him and over the edge.  

He was already on his feet and firing arrows into it as it sluggishly unfurled its wings and mightily pumped its wings to reach the platform again.

The arrows striking it barely seemed to be slowing it down so he aimed for the joints where the wings met its back.  It had almost reached the height of the platform again when he finally put enough arrows into its right wing-joint that its motion became jerky.

Finally, at point-blank range, the wing seized up entirely. The manticore plummeted rapidly and disappeared through the metallic bubble.

 He spun, aiming down an arrow just in time to see Suniel blast the rearing griffin backwards off the platform.  It died again silently and fell back, trailing a plume of smoke.

 Harold lowered his bow and walked over to help the others heave the last corpse over the side.

 They stood in the strange, adrenaline-pumped after-battle silence for a minute before Kormak spoke up.  “Now what?”

 “We're going up,” Keeper said.

 “We are?” Kezzek said.  They walked towards where the lift met the metal rail or stared at what they could see of the mountainside.

 It was slight, but Harold could see the mountainside slowly passing below the lift.  “I guess.  Anyone see any way to make it move faster?”

 Everyone shrugged or shook their heads.

 “And how tall is this mountain?” Kormak said.

 “Miles,” Suniel said, staring up at the shimmering sphere that encased them.

 “Well, good thing I brought my tent,” Kormak said, petting his dog on the head before sliding its saddlebags off.  “Might as well get settled in, looks like we're in for a long ride.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 18, Part 1

“So why are you getting involved in all this Greywarden?” Kormak said as he finished propping up his tent.  “I thought your kind just roamed the frontiers hunting for criminals."

Kezzek growled as he stared out as the bubble.  “Thessalock's Ashen Tower is a criminal state.  That wasn't war against Steamport, it was genocide.”

Kormak shrugged.  “One half-orc's war is another gnome's genocide.  The Greywardens all believe that about the Ashen Tower?”

“I don't know.  If you hadn't noticed, we haven't seen any others since we left Northmand,” Kezzek said.  “But it doesn't matter.  Greywardens are trained to enforce law in areas of lawlessness.  That is our creed, our purpose.  Sometimes a Greywarden must make hard choices.”

 “And you've made yours?”

 Kezzek nodded.

 “Well, I'm still wondering what Annandor said back in Steamport."  Harold said.

"You mean while we were blind?" Kezzek said.

Harold ignored him.  "Why would an Ashen Tower assassin say the Crystal Towers was the defense for all of Felskein?  Does he believe it or was it just a riddle?”

 “You sure he said meant the _nation_ of the Crystal Towers?” Kezzek said.

Harold lifted his hands in front of his body and gave a small shrug.  “What else could he have meant?”

 “Well, I've never been there, but I'm assuming they've got some sort of towers or something there, right?"

Harold glared at the dwarf.

"I'll take that as a yes.  Did you build those towers?” Kormak said.

 “No, they were there when the first people crossed the Span to the Crystal Tower's mainland.  You think he was talking about them?  They haven't done anything at all in the hundreds of years the Crystal Towers has been there, just giant floating crystals on top of massive silver towers.  Why?”

 “Silver towers?  Like the ones in the ruins down there?” Kezzek said.

 Harold nodded and tapped his foot and the dull silver of the platform.  “It's the same stuff this platform is made out of and the Span. Indestructible.  Magic, siege weapons; nothing can so much as scratch them.”

 “If you didn't, then who made them?” Kormak said, tapping his knuckles on the cool metal of the lift.

 “No one knows.”

 There was a long moment of silence.

 “Well, if the Towers themselves can be used as any sort of weapon, I'm definitely bringing it up to the Magisters when we get there,” Harold said.  “Maybe we can end the Ashen Tower's reign once and for all.”

 They rode the lift for a while in silence, occasionally glancing at where Suniel sat in meditation, for some reason stripped down to a loincloth.  Brutal scars crisscrossed most of his body and Kormak noticed that faint blue runes seemed to shimmer on every inch of his body, but only when seen out of the corner of the eye.  When Kormak looked at him directly, he saw only the scars.

 Kormak squinted at the elf for a moment, then ducked into his tent, pulling out his book and tapping the tattoo on his arm.

_Danovin Au located.  Pursuing.  Also identified elven wizard Suniel Au as a once-associate of Thessalock._

 He glanced outside to be sure no one was nearby, then glanced back at his book.

_Danovin Au _must_ die.  The father's ties to Thessalock were broken long ago, he is nothing like the threat his son poses.  At any cost..._

 ***

 Over the course of the approximately two days they spent on the lift, they became accustomed to it's slight but perceptible motion, so when it suddenly stopped, Suniel came out of his trance immediately.  He opened his eyes and donned his robe.  

Keeper was already staring down at a thin walkway that ran along the side of the mountain to their lift.

 The others were waking up as Suniel joined Keeper.  “We're not at the top yet,” Keeper said, motioning to the rail that continued up the mountain until it disappeared into the shimmering silver of the bubble above them.

 “What's happening?  Why are we stopped?” Harold said.

 “I don't know.  I guess we take this walkway,” Suniel said.

 “We don't even know where it goes,” Harold said.  “How do we know the lift won't start again when we leave?  We'll be stranded half-way up the largest mountain in the world.”

 “We don't know,” Suniel said, stepping out onto the walkway.  The metal was thin and narrow, barely five feet wide, but Suniel felt comfortable, as if something was pulling him down and keeping him steady on it.

 There was some quick discussion behind him.  When he reached the bubble-wall, he saw the others were all following behind him.

 The shock of cold and wind when he passed through the protective silver membrane dropped him to his knees and he was sure it would have ripped him from the platform but for the pull he had felt earlier.  Keeper stepped out a moment later and helped to his feet, but even with his robe wrapped tight, the wind and the bitter cold it carried cut straight through him and the air seemed somehow... thin.

Squinting at the wind and suddenly-visible daylight, he saw a strange tower twisting up the side of the mountain.  It looked like a pyramid that some giant had grabbed, stretched tall, and twisted.  The thin walkway run to where it sat cantilevered off the side of the Landspear on a spider-web of supports that seemed far to thin to support its weight.

 “What is that?” Kezzek shouted in Suniel's ear.

 “Our destination, I would guess,” Suniel shouted back and pressed on.

 As they made their way to the tower, Suniel glanced down to their right, at the immense drop and the sparkling Landspear Lake stretching off into the distance.  From their height, he could even faintly see the far shores of the Landspear Lake and, though it might have been a trick of the eye, he thought he could see tiny ships making their way across its glinting surface.  

His view was only obstructed by scattered clouds drifting _below_ him.  He guessed they were already a several miles up and still the Landspear stretched up above them until it pierced the clouds high above.

Even with the magnificent view, he was grateful to pass through the narrow archway that led into the tower, to find a reprieve from the wind and chill and, surprisingly, to draw full deep breaths.  He stamped his feet, shivering and glancing around as the others filed in behind him.

 A giant stone statue of an orc with what looked surprisingly like a quor'rel held in its upraised hand dominated the center of the room, the statue's other hand held low and extended, as if reaching for something.  A ramp of the silvery metal ran along the outside wall of the giant hollow tower until it disappeared into the darkness of its heights. Suniel was about to turn to examine the murals that covered every available wall-surface of the inside of the tower when a voice spoke from the darkness above.

 “Father, I had hoped you wouldn't follow me,” Danovin's said.

 Suniel squinted up at the darkness and could just barely make out his son's cloaked figure and, beside him, the looming silver form of Danovin's metal guardian.

 “I've noticed your family has a thing for constructs,” Kormak whispered.  "Did you notice that? 'Cause I've noticed that."

 “You mean you hoped your unnatural creatures would kill me?” Suniel said, ignoring the dwarf and stepping forward.

 His son ignored the comment.  “Father, there is still time.  We can head to the top of the Landspear together and destroy Thessalock's pet. My offer is still open.  Together...”

 Suniel's voice was a whisper, but somehow he knew his son could hear.  “No.”

 “Then you Greywarden," his son said.  "Surely you must find Thessalock's actions unlawful.  He flaunts the laws of every land he passes through.  Nothing means anything to him but his own power.”

 “And what guarantee do I have that you are any different?” Kezzek said.

 Danovin did not reply, instead moving on to Harold.  “Think of it, the Ashen Tower and the Crystal Towers standing together.  We can work together once Thessalock falls, when I replace him. Nothing could withstand us.”

 “There will never be a day when the Crystal Towers will suffer for the corruption and filth of the Ashen Tower to exist within its sight, much less join with it.  As far as I am concerned, you're nothing more than another of Thessalock's Ashen Tower lapdogs,” Harold said.

 There was a long silence above and Suniel felt sudden tension.

 “I thought as much, though I might have hopped it could be different,” Danovin said.  “If you will not join me, so be it!”

 Suniel's spell-chant began a fraction of a second behind his son's.  Around him, his companions drew weapons and the battle began.


----------



## Iron Sky

So, if anyone but my players are still reading this thread, I have a few questions.  I (mostly) know what my players think of this campaign, but would be interested to know what everyone/anyone else thinks (players feel free to post too, just watch the spoilers ).

Who is your favorite PC?

Which was your favorite fight?

What did you think was the coolest/most surprising/most interseting thing that happened?

How does the world/story come across to you?  Gritty, real, fantastic, heroic, anti-heroic, contrived, linear, open-ended, surprising, etc?

Any other comments/suggestions/observations?

I'm also curious to see if anyone can guess what happens next and/or what will happen later in the campaign.  Would be interesting to see how people's guesses might line up with what actually happened.

If anyone is up to posting a quick response, I'm really curious to see the answers to some of these questions from someone who wasn't "there".  I'm pretty immersed in it and so I can't get any sort of objective view of how it's coming across.

I'd love to hear from anyone!


----------



## Crazy Eights

Have no fear, you have one other reader at least! 

My favorite character is a really hard pick.  I really liked everyone in the original party (Ming, Ilsa, Harold, and Suniel), though I would have to have said Ming.  The group just meshed very well in your writing.  Since Ming and Ilsa died, Harold and Suniel are my favorite characters.  Don't ask me to choose between the two, I can't.

My favorite fight has been the initial fight between the group and Iron Sky's robotic minions.  I thought that was excellent.  It could easily have seemed silly, what with robot ninjas falling out of the sky and attacking the party, but it was full of awesome if you ask me.  I hope your players enjoyed that session's actual game play as much as I enjoyed reading about it.

The coolest thing that has happened was the scene involving Steamport.  It had the potential to feel very rail roadish, but it didn't read like that at all.  Again, hopefully your players enjoyed playing it as much as I liked reading it.

The most interesting thing thus far is finally seeing some of Suniel's background come to light.  I've been dying to figure out what this Black Carriage thing is all about.

The world strikes me as a bit of a mixture of grit, fantasy, and anti-hero, all blended very well.  One of the things that I really like about it is that it feels like the storyline to a well written CRPG, or a Final Fantasy game.

No guesses about what's coming up yet, but if I think of anything, I'll post it.  Also, since this campaign has already ended, are you and your group playing another game?

Thanks for all the hard work!  This is a great story hour.  You and all of your players deserve props for some very interesting reading!

~CE


----------



## Iron Sky

Thanks for the feedback Crazy Eights.

In response to your question, we do have a current game, 4th edition, run by Sanzuo on these boards (Ming/Kezzek's player).  You can read about it here:
Obsidian Portal » Campaigns » Fallen Empire

I'm playing Logan Banner, Suniel's player is playing Lenny Flick.  Grok'nar/Kormak's player is playing Elara Silvermoon.

I also tried to do a 4th edition game on fantasy grounds.  The marginally-edited session logs for the 4 sessions we got through are here:
www.phoenixempires.com/GatesOfHeaven/Session1.html
www.phoenixempires.com/GatesOfHeaven/Session2.html
www.phoenixempires.com/GatesOfHeaven/Session3.html
www.phoenixempires.com/GatesOfHeaven/Session4.html

I'm brainstorming for the next campaign I'm going to run now.  I know it's going to be 4th edition and the characters are going to be larger-than-life greek hero/anime hero types (since that's what 4th edition makes me think of).

I have a few ideas for it and have already solo'd one player for one session as a "prologue" for his character, but won't really have anything solid down until I know who will be playing and what characters they make.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 18, Part 2

-Note: Took me forever to get it done, but I said Monday, so Monday it is!  Well, it was Monday when I started writing it.  Technically, it's Tuesday now.-

Suniel locked up.

 High above him, his son's silver guardian was charging down the ramp to kill him, shrugging off the arrows that Harold fired at as if they were sticks thrown by a child.  The giant stone orc statue had animated and was taking a swing at the archer.  Kezzek was charging towards the ramp and Kormak the statue.   

Suniel's counter-spell let him see through his son's arcane veil of invisibility, but now he stood with the final word of a spell on his lips.  The word froze on his lips and a few seconds seemed to stretch into eternity.

 His son cast another spell and Suniel almost said the final word again, but at the last second he recognized a gesture or a fragment of his son's chant over the rising din of battle.  He stood again as his son jumped to the wall and began running up it.

 To his companions, his son had probably just disappeared - the giant silver construct now heaving the dwarf off the ramp and the giant stone statue had that just missed Harold and sent tile fragments flying across the room probably seemed more pressing concerns.  He was dimly aware of Harold shouting something at him between loosed arrows.

 Then Danovin turned down to face him, a new chant springing to his son's lips.  Suniel recognized the spell immediately from the first fragment of word and gesture.  How many had he killed with the same spell?

 Danovin threw his hands wide for the final gesture, eyes gleaming, a snarl on his lips as he locked eyes with his father.

 Suniel said a final word and destroyed his son's mind.

 ***

 “Violence breeds violence!” Kezzek shouted as he ripped his blade free from the construct's shoulder and sprung away, landing on the ramp and backpedaling up it a ways.

 “What?” Kormak shouted back up at him, ducking between the giant stone statue's legs as it cratered the floor tiles where he had stood a moment earlier.

 “The inscription on the statue,” Kezzek yelled.  Two more of Harold's arrows stuck shallowly into the construct's silver skin and it turned towards the archer again, looking ready to charge.  Kezzek saw the metal of the construct slowly reforming where he'd buried his blade seconds before.  “Stop fighting!”

 “Easy for you to say!”  Kormak rolled to his feet, flew through the air, and slammed his knee into one of the statue's massive arms.  Dust and tiny fragments of rock rained down.  The dwarf landed in a light crouch and then, in a blur of stone he was sent flying.  Twenty feet away he collided with one of the mosaics that lined the wall and crumpled in a rain of colored tiles.

 “Harold stop!  It's Orcish.  The statue only attacks those who attack!”  Kezzek shouted.

 The archer ignored him and two more arrows shattered against the stone statue's broad side. It turned instantly and only a desperate leap to the side saved Harold from being impaled by a ten-foot long stone quor'rel.  Kezzek noticed that Keeper had stopped fighting and was looking up at him.  Suniel still stood rooted to the spot he'd been since the fight had started, staring up at the darkness above them.

 Kormak was on his feet, looking ready to attack again and Harold was drawing another arrow.  With a grunt, Kezzek jumped from the ramp, landed running, then stopped and turned as Danovin's construct diverted from charging Harold and rushed at him.  

“This is going to hurt,” Kezzek mumbled to himself, holding his arms out to his side, grimacing, and closing his eyes with a wince as the construct reached him, one huge arm swinging back.

 It felt like a horse at full gallop slammed into him.  He rolled half-a-dozen times and slid another ten feet on the tile before he came to a stop.  The world stopped spinning a second later.  His side was a throbbing mass of agony.

 He got to his feet slowly, growling at the pain, and looked up.

 Giant silver construct fought animate statue in the center of the twisted mosaic pyramid, like a battle between two colossus for the amusement of some tinkering god.  Dust and tiny chips of stone fell from the statue with every blow, but didn't so much as crack the stone while the arcane metal of the construct immediately began to reform after every hammering, crumpling blow the statue landed upon it.

 For a moment they all stood mesmerized by the strange and terrible battle that raged mindlessly before them.  Then Kezzek noticed Suniel already half-way up the ramp that spiraled up into the darkness.  The elf walked slowly, tears streaming unnoticed from his face, Keeper following a few steps behind.

 Harold and Kormak seemed to notice the wizard at the same time and they all ran to catch up. As they did, Suniel knelt slowly and cradled the empty air.  Kezzek growled and glanced at Kormak and Harold.  

Kormak nodded to the elf, rolled his eyes and used his finger to trace the _he's crazy_ spiral beside his head.  Harold was busy searching the darkness with an nocked arrow.  Danovin was no where to be seen.  Now and then the whole pyramid shook with the violence of the conflict now far below.  Small fragments of mosaic tile tinkled off the metal of the ramp all around them.

 Then Suniel made a gesture and Danovin appeared in his cradled arms.

 Harold cursed and stepped back, aiming at Danovin.  Keeper stepped in front of the archer shaking his head, palm outstretched.

 Kezzek looked closer and saw the mad gleam of the younger Au's eyes was gone, replaced by a dull lifelessness.

“He's no threat Harold,” Kezzek said, putting his quor'rel away.  Kormak was staring down at Danovin with a strange expression on his face that Kezzek couldn't quite place.  _Concern?_ _That seems a bit odd coming from Kormak, _Kezzek thought.

 Then Suniel handed up a small silver amulet, never taking his eyes from his son.  

“Here, you can use it to control his guardian,” Suniel said, his soft voice barely audible over the battle.

 Kormak took it and held the amulet dramatically high over the near-dizzying fall and the battle below.  “Oh machination of silver steel, I command thee to halt.  Return thine exalted and shiny presence to, uh, here,” Kormak said, frowning as his jest fell apart.

 Almost immediately the tower was quiet but for the surprisingly quiet footfalls of the guardian as it walked up the ramp.  Kezzek's side throbbed and the air was filled with dust that tasted like lead and stone.  Danovin drooled from the corner of his mouth and groaned.

 “What the heck happened to him?” Kormak said.  “I guess he spent a little too much time-”

 “I destroyed his mind, a mind whose brilliance you could never comprehend” Suniel said, still not looking up.  He lightly brushed his son's hair from his face.  “Even when he was a child I knew he had a mind that might surpass even mine – in spite of his shorter half-bred lifespan.  And now it's gone.  I said a word and broke it forever.”

 “Well, in your defense, he was kinda trying to murder us a little bit,” Kormak said.

 “Is there no way to interrogate him?”  Harold said.  “I think he might know who the spies are in the Crystal Towers, not to mention all he might know of the inner workings and deployments of the Ashen Tower's forces.  If we could just get him to-”

 “Look at him!” Kormak said.  Danovin's mouth opened and closed randomly, his head lolled from side to side erratically, his eyes staring at nothing.  “You'd do better interrogating Dog...  Dog!  I left Dog on the lift!”

 Kezzek shook his head and barely caught the guardian amulet as the dwarf threw it aside and ran down the ramp.

He grabbed Harold's arm and pulled him away from the elf and his son.  “Let's give them some room.”

 Harold pulled his hand out of Kezzek's grasp and glared at him suspiciously.  Kezzek sighed.

 “There's more light down there, we can see these mosaics better.  I for one am curious to see what this place is about.  And we can see more what this does,” Kezzek said, dangling the amulet from its chain.  _And that statue.  I thought my quor'rel was unique, maybe here is a link to my past._

 Grudgingly, Harold followed him down the ramp, though not without occasional dark glances up at where Keeper stood over the father cradling his son.

 ***

 “There's a story here,” Kezzek said as he walked back down to the base of the ramp where they'd made a rough camp.  Suniel was spoon-feeding a quickly-made gruel to his son while Kormak rummaged through his packs and talked to Dog.  Harold still stood staring at the mosaic that depicted one of the Crystal Towers destroying what seemed to be a flying island with a beam of light.

 Keeper was staring impassively at the motionless guardian construct, which in turn stared at nothing. _That_ scene took Kezzek aback for a moment with its oddity.  He shook his head and quickly got over it.

 “Anyway, the mosaics...” he said to no one in particular.  “There's a whole history here, maybe the whole history of Felskein.  The places where the mosaic tiles are all cracked, burned, and broken into indistinguishable blurs are especially intriguing.”

 “What's so interesting about broken mosaic tiles?  I broke those when I got thrown into them,” Kormak said, tearing off a big piece of jerky with his teeth and pointing to the spot where he'd smashed into a mural during the fight.  The dwarf's jaw dropped open, the jerky that dropped from his open mouth snatched out of the air by Dog before it hit the ground.  The once-shattered mosaic was restored as if freshly inlaid.

 “Well, that's definitely interesting, but that's not what I'm talking about,” Kezzek said, walking over to a different mosaic.  “It's not what's left, it's what's gone.  Look at this one, all these figures... elves?  They seem to be worshiping this place where the tiles are.  Over here, this has to be a throne of some sort, but whatever's on it is indistinguishable.”

 “Hm...” Kormak said, following him, seemingly intrigued.  “And we know that it's not vandalism from my... demonstration.”

 Harold stood nearby, to appearances indifferently looking at the again-dormant and re-posed orc statue, but Kezzek knew he was listening.  Suniel seemed wholly absorbed by his son's condition.
 “They're all over too, at least on the lower half of the pyramid.  They stop appearing at all part-way up.”

 Kezzek stopped and turned to Kormak and Harold.  “Anyway, I've looked over them a couple times and, as I said before, I think this pyramid, these mosaics hold the entire history of Felskein, maybe even the world.  It's imperfect and rough, but here goes.”

 Kezzek took a deep breath, walked to the first mosaic beside the door they had entered, and gestured towards it.  Even Harold and, perhaps even more surprisingly, Keeper had joined him to listen.  “In the beginning...”


----------



## Crazy Eights

As long as you promise to get it done eventually, I suppose I will call off my hit squad of ninja pirate juicers.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 18, Part 3

-Note: hmm, either the next Part or the one after it has one of the tag lines from my Story Hour signature promo.  Though, I guess this one (Part 3) has many of them in a broader fashion.  As of the beginning of this post: 

Robots, check, Assassins, check, Hobgoblins, check, the Ashen Tower, check, Land Pirates, check, Gnome Genocide, check, Flying Islands, check, Dying Heroes, check.

That leaves Polite Beholders, the Corpse Ramp, Artifacts, Exploding Zombie Dragons, Blood Feuds, Vanished Races, and the Black City left to go!-

“These people were primitive, look, you can see some sort of crude tools here,” Kezzek said, pointing to one of the first mural past the front door.  “I'm not sure how much time is between each of these mosaics, but I have the feeling these few murals represent a long time they spent this way.”

 “If I'm not mistaken, this one seems to show them creating a new race.  It's hard to tell exactly with their forms all blurred out.”

 “Yeah, I see what you're looking at there,” Kormak said.  “It looks like they're creating... elves?  Huh, that's disappointing, I would have thought dwarves were created first.”

 “Dwarves and orcs are over here,” Harold said from half-a-dozen murals down.  “And a little further, here's humans.”

 “Well, if you look over here past Harold,” Kezzek said, walking past the archer.  “This is the interesting one.  Or _one_ of the interesting ones anyway.”

 Harold and Kormak walked over and joined him, staring at the mural for a minute before Kormak said something.

 “It's blank wall, there's nothing here.”

 “No, there's tiles here.  It's not blank.  It must be showing some vast darkness.  The tiles wouldn't be laid if there was nothing here.  Look, the one before it has one of the burned-out figures holding up a large gem or something.  You can see a few tiles of the darkness along the right edge here.”

 “The orcs in this one look just like the statue back there,” Harold said from where he'd moved ahead to the front of the ramp.  “It looks like an army, all armed with quor'rels.  The next one shows a few bloody ones coming back.  What were they fighting?”

 They looked around at the surrounding murals for a while.  “Whatever was in the darkness I guess,” Kezzek said.  He glanced between the orcs in the mural and the statue, then to his own quor'rel.  “What does it look like the statue is doing to you?”

 They turned and examined it.  It stood, one hand again holding the quor'rel aloft, the other extending his hand.  “As if he's wanting something,” Kezzek said, walking towards the statue.

 “Wanting to smash you to paste,” Kormak said.  “You know what you're doing?”

 “I think I just might,” Kezzek said.  Slowly, he unsheathed his quor'rel, half expecting the statue to awaken and attack.  It didn't.

 He stood before the massive outstretched hand for a minute, then placed his quor'rel in it.  Everyone waited expectantly.

 “Well, not sure what you thought would happen, but I guess it was worth a - HOLY DAMN!” Kormak said, leaping away as the statue closed its fist around Kezzek's quor'rel.

It raised it above it's head and stone rapidly accreted around the blades.  At the same time, it lowered the stone quor'rel held in its other hand and the stone that covered it started to crack and fall away.  By the time it was lowered to Kezzek's height, the stone had all fallen away from the blade.

 Slowly, almost reverently, Kezzek reached up and took it.

 It seemed lighter than his old one, yet more substantial somehow.  When he took a few experimental swings, it seemed like the air resisted him; he pushed harder against it and the blade suddenly slashed through the air with tremendous power.

 “So, you knew to do that how?” Kormak said, looking at Kezzek's new weapon appreciatively.

 “It was a hunch,” Kezzek said.

 “This one here,” Harold said, seemingly oblivious to everything that had just happened with the statue as he stared at his favorite mosaic.  “This must be the Crystal Tower's Defenses that Annandor mentioned.  If we could figure out how to activate them, we could destroy the Ashen Tower in a heartbeat.”

 “See, look here,” Harold said, tracing the glowing beam of light from the massive crystal atop one of the Crystal Towers to what seemed to by a floating island in the midst of exploding.

 “I see that,” Kezzek said, walking over and putting his new quor'rel in its sheath on his back.  “Does it not interest you somewhat that the island is _floating_?”

 “Back here, it has more of the gray figures and the other races placing giant gems or crystals or something into the center of these henges,” Kormak said from a few mosaics further down the ramp.

 “What's a henge?” Harold said.

 “A ring of stones, usually,” Kezzek said, standing next to the dwarf.  “See, notice the jagged black line at the bottom of this one?  It's even thicker at Harold's.  And here...”

 He moved to the next mosaic up the ramp from Kormak's.  “This one seems to show these floating islands tearing free and leaving sand behind.  The Endless Sands?”

 “Even Felskein,” Harold said.  “This one has Felskein flying in the center of them, like the hub of a wheel.  It's at least fifty times larger than the next one.  And if that yellow is the Endless Sands, look at the black tiles woven through it.”

 “Even more interesting are these further up,” Kezzek said, walking past Harold.  “Those black tiles you noticed are gone in this one and the one after it, it looks like all these floating islands are returning to the Sands.”

 “So maybe they all landed and together became Felskein?” Kormak said.

Kezzek shook his head and continued up the ramp.  “No, because up here, the darkness seems to be returning.  Look, you can see it engulfing some of the islands that are in the Sands.  The next one shows them fleeing to the sky again.”

 “Interesting,” Kormak said, examining the mosaics before Kezzek intently.  “Wait, what's this thing?  Is that what I think it is?”

 Kezzek leaned down and Harold joined them.  Kezzek nodded and motioned them further up the ramp.  “Might want to get some light.”

 “I don't need it,” Kormak said as Harold lit a torch.  “Keen dwarven night-sight and all that.”

 They followed Kezzek a little farther up and stopped at a mural that unmistakably showed a Gem-Eye.

 After letting it sink in on Kormak and Harold for a moment, he led them to the next panel.  “What does this one look like to you?”

 They looked at it for a while, then Kormak said, “From what you've told me about them, it looks like Iron Sky constructs marching into the Darkness.”

 “No, not just marching,” Harold said.  “Look, these are like the ones we fought, the big floating ones and the little fast ones.  It looks like they're firing into the Darkness too.  They're fighting it.”

 “That's what I thought too,” Kezzek said, nodding.  “And it looks like they might have succeeded beyond their creator's wildest expectations.”

 They followed him further up the ramp, until it narrowed enough that they could see a door at the top of the ramp leading outside.  Then Kezzek stopped.  “Look at this one.”

 “Looks like Iron Sky is killing the gray figures,” Harold said.  “Here they're throwing them off the floating islands and here this big one looks like it's standing on a massive mound of gray forms.”

 “I'm guessing whoever these slagged gray tiles represent made more than they bargained for when they made Iron Sky,” Kezzek said softly.  “They fought off whatever the darkness was, then turned on their masters and destroyed them.  This is the last mosaic that has the gray figures in it...”

 The others took that in for a moment, then Harold began walking past and Kormak followed the archer a second later.  “What about the last ones before the door?”

 “Well, those are really interesting, especially the last one, but we're not quite there yet,” Kezzek said, joining the others.  “Harold, you remember when Keeper first activated and he told us about Iron Sky's seven 'Skylands'?”

 “Vaguely, yes.  Why?” Harold said.

 “This is why.”

 He pointed at a mural depicting Iron Sky constructs attacking a floating islands.  “I think Iron Sky _had_ seven.  If this is at all accurate, they have at least nine, and I have no idea how long ago this was.”

 “Wait, you think all this is real?” Harold said.  “For all we know, this is just some story created by some extinct race.  Ever heard of propaganda?”

 “What sort of propaganda would you put a couple miles up the tallest mountain in the world?” Kormak said.  “Not much to convince up here.”

 “Well, I believe this is real and I'll show you why in a minute,” Kezzek said, walking on up the ramp.  “Ah, lets see.  Yes, this one here.  They're small, so it's hard to tell, but what do all these specs flying over the Endless Sands look like to you?”

 Harold held the torch close to the mosaic and all three examined it closely.  “More Gem-Eyes.  Hundreds I'd guess,” Harold said.

 “Looks like they're searching the desert for something,” Kormak added.

 “Any guess as to what that something might be?” Kezzek said.

 “They were always looking for those amulets we have stored in Keeper,” Harold said.  “Maybe they're hunting for those.”

 “Maybe,” Kezzek said.  “But remember that one we ran into as we were returning from deposing Neergrog?”

 “The broken one?  The one that was all excited about... oh.”  Harold stared off into the empty space that dropped a hundred feet to the statue below.

 “They're searching for Felskein,” Kezzek said.  “If you'll remember, at the last mosaic that shows all the islands flying up into the sky, Felskein isn't with them.”

 “And Keeper told us when Suniel first brought him to life that Felskein was considered the 'Lost Continent' by the Nexus, whoever or whatever that is,” Harold said.

 “So these things are combing the Endless Sands searching for us?” Kormak said.  “You'd think something as large as Felskein would be hard to miss.  Heck, we're on a mountain that's supposed to be ten miles high.  How do you miss something like that?”

 “Maybe they call them the Endless Sands for a reason.  I don't know really,” Kezzek said.  “Based on the interactions we've had with Iron Sky so far, I don't think them finding us would be good news for anyone on Fekskein.  It gets stranger though.”

 Kezzek walked a little farther and stopped in front of one of the last and most perplexing mosaics.  “This one is... well, look.”

 Harold and Kormak looked at it for several minutes.  “It looks like someone fighting Iron Sky,” Kormak said.  “That one you showed us a ways back had a bunch of people fighting Iron Sky as they attacked the Skylands.  What's so special about this one?”

 “This isn't just someone.  Look closer.”

 “There's an archer here, and this is some sort of mage.  That one is hard to make out, that looks like a Greywarden gauntlet and...”  Kormak trailed off.  

Harold met Kezzek's eyes.

“So whoever made this is still here,” Harold whispered, hand drifting towards his quiver.  “They have to be if they had this information and had time to create this.”

 “I doubt it,” Kezzek said, walking towards the door.  He stopped at the final mural.

 They all stared at it in wonder, even Kezzek who had already spend ten minutes looking at it before.

 The final mosaic showed a twisted silver pyramid jutting from the side of a mountain.  A silver sphere stuck to a thin rail going up the mountain like a giant opaque soap bubble formed over a string.  

Small figures were approaching the lower door to the pyramid along a thin walkway; one figure dressed in robes, one a larger figure with a giant metal gauntlet, one with a bow, and a shorter one following along behind the others, a dog trailing far behind...


----------



## Iron Sky

-Note: can't get it to post here, so it's in the next post down...-


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 18, Part 4

<Note: Since I missed last week, here's an extra long one.>

 When they awoke from their makeshift camp around the base of the giant orc statue, Danovin Au was dead.

 Kezzek stood, waiting impassively for Suniel to release the body he held to his chest so he could examine it.  Harold took the news of the death as if Kezzek had said he'd found a weevil in a biscuit and had headed back to his favorite murals of the Crystal Towers.  Perhaps the archer thought if he stared at them long enough, he could somehow unlock the secret of the Crystal Towers defenses.

 Kormak was busy taking down his tent with brisk efficiency, humming a little tune as he did so.  Kezzek was beginning to wonder what had the dwarf in such a good mood when Suniel finally released the body, striding to where Keeper stood gazing at the first Iron Sky mural of Keeper's “kin” marching into the blackness.

 Kezzek knelt and gave Danovin's body a quick examination.  There wasn't a single wound, but his blackened veins bulged against his skin.  There was a faint foul smell about him, almost like a bog...

 Suniel pushed Kezzek roughly away, pulled out a small knife, and slit open the veins in his son's arm as Kezzek and Keeper watched.   

 “Tell me what you know,” Suniel said, pointing at the wound he'd made as he stared back at Keeper.

 Keeper knelt and touched the thick, viscous blood that slowly oozed out.  The construct raised his hand before his eyes and rubbed the blood between his fingers.  “Poison.  Tar Blood it is called.  Extremely rare.”

 Kezzek quirked an eyebrow at Keeper's sudden alchemical knowledge just as the construct glanced up and met his eyes.  “So says the Nexus.”

 “Poison,” Suniel said.  With no change in expression, he walked over to Kormak.  “Show me your things, all of them.”

 “Say what, your Elfiness?” Kormak said.  “You have no right to-”

 “Now,” Suniel said.  “We found you along the lake not far from where someone killed Captain Elorn with their bare hands.  Now my son is dead by poison.  Kezzek is a Greywarden and poison is too subtle for Harold.  That leaves you.”

 “What about him?” Kormak said, pointing at Keeper.

 “Rusty metal constructs are, of course, the most excellent silent poisoners,” Keeper said in his flat voice.  Kezzek glanced at Keeper wondering again if the thing had a sense of humor hidden away somewhere.

 “Show me your things,” Suniel said.  “All of them, lay them out here.  Now.”

 Kormak's brow furrowed as he frowned and stood, shifting slightly into a fighting stance.  Keeper and Kezzek stepped forward to Suniel's side immediately, Keeper's eyes sparking and Kezzek reaching for the hilt of his quor'rel.

 “Whoa, easy fellas,” Kormak said raising his hands.  “Just standing up to go get my things.  Jeez, touchy touchy.”

 A few minutes later, the dwarf's belongings lay strewn about the floor, the most damning evidence in Suniel's hands.

 “What is this?” Suniel said, a sharp tone in his voice.  “Explain this away dwarf, I dare you.”

 Kormak shrugged.  “It's a poison making kit.”

 “And this?” Suniel said, holding up a vial with a few drops of liquid in it.

 “It's a used poison vial.  What's it look like it is?”

 Kezzek reached forward and put an restraining hand on Suniel's arm before he blasted the dwarf into cinders.  “Wait.  Keeper, what type of poison is in the vial?”

 He could feel the tension in Suniel's body; the elf was trembling with barely contained fury.  Keeper took the vial and poured one of the last drops into his palm.  “Blackbark venom,” he said, without hesitation.  “It's a moderately rare Fey poison.”

 “Are it's effects similar to Tar Blood?” Kezzek said.

 The construct shook his head.  “No, this would make the subject begin to cough up blood as the lining of the lungs dissolved, soon followed by-”

 “Ok, I get it.”  Kezzek pointed to the poisoner's kit.  “Could Tar Blood be made with the chemicals and reagents in this?”

 Keeper shook his head after a mere glance.  “You don't make Tar Blood.  It's naturally occurring, but only in a rare creature that primarily lives in tropical forests.  There are a few varieties of them but all tend to favor the canopy layer and-”

 “So, you're saying there's no evidence that Kormak has or was able to create Tar Blood?”  Kezzek said.

 “No.”

 “He could have poisoned him and thrown the vial off the mountain!” Sunial said.

 “So could I or Harold or even Keeper,” Kezzek said.  "Capability does not mean culpability."

 “I'm a poisoner, sure, but why would I want to kill your kid?” Kormak said.  “He was practically a vegetable.  Heck, my dog is probably smarter than Danovin was by the time you'd-”

 “That's enough Kormak,” Kezzek said, stepping between the dwarf and the increasingly livid elf.

 “We have no hard evidence here,” he said softly to Suniel.  “Suspicion does not translate to guilt.  It might be some enchantment Thessalock cast on him to keep him from leaving the Ashen Tower.  Besides, I've examined the lift and it seems we must go all the way up before we can go down.  We may need every one of us to fight whatever it is that is up there.  Take a walk, cool down, Harold wants to be on the lift as soon as possible so we can get underway.”

 Suniel stared at the ground, his jaw clenched.  When he looked up, his eyes were so cold, it make Kezzek take a step back.  The elf turned and knelt over his son again, hands clenched into fists.

 Kezzek sighed and headed to gather his own things, glancing back at Kormak as he packed another oddity; an empty book and several dozen loose sheafs of parchment, carefully bound, with no sign of ink or quill among the dwarf's things.

 ***

 The tension was only somewhat abated as they rode the lift up the mountain, again encased in the shimmering metallic bubble.  Kormak had spent the two additional days traveling up the side of the mountain sitting in his tent near the edge of the lift with Keeper standing watch over him day and night – or what they guessed day and night were in the near-constant dim glow of the bubble.  

There had been a few flare ups between Kormak – demanding that Suniel keep Keeper away from him – and Suniel – countering that maybe Kormak should stop murdering people.

 Harold shook his head at it all.  Every day the Ashen Tower grew stronger and its threat to the Crystal Towers and the rest of Felskein grew, and they sat squabbling over the death of one of Thessalock's chief servants!

His dark musing were interrupted by a subtle sensation. The lift had stopped.  He quickly woke everyone up.

 “About time,” Kormak grumbled, with a sidelong glance at Suniel.  “I'd rather face Danovin's white beast than spend another hour in here with his father.”

 Suniel walked to the edge of the bubble, flanked by both constructs – he had taken to wearing the amulet that controlled Danovin's silver guardian.  “Keeper, see what it's like on the other side.”

 Keeper complied immediately, disappearing through the silver membrane, only to reappear seconds later covered with frost and snow.  “It is five to ten feet tall out there,” Keeper said.  “The wind would tear it away in an instant except that it is so cold the snow is more like ice.  There is barely enough air for you living things.  On the positive side, it looks like there is another large silver bubble only a few hundred feet away.”

 “So, the plan is to cross a few hundred feet of snow and ice in a howling gale with no air so we can enter the lair of some unknown white beast that had a lieutenant of the Ashen Tower worried?”  Kormak said.  “Where do I sign up?”

 “Right here,” Suniel said, without looking away from Keeper.  “Do you think you and the guardian could clear a path for us?”

 “We could, though it will take time and you will still face a certain degree of exposure.”

 “Then do it.”

 ***

 Kormak pushed through the membrane, frozen to the bone and gasping for air.  Harold was already ahead of him, bow drawn as he surveyed the broken ruins inside the calm of the bubble.  Keeper emerged a second later, carrying an unconscious Suniel through and setting him on the bare dirt.  _

Serves him right,_ Kormak thought, leaving Kezzek and the constructs to take care of him as he slipped into the remains of what seemed to be a small city, surprisingly not made of silversteel.

 They had entered along a wide avenue with a noticeable incline up to a large pedestal with a massive black orb spinning above it.  As he watched, the air around the orb seemed to shimmer and then pulse, a wave of barely visible energy shooting out horizontally in all directions from it.  When it passed through Kormak, it felt like the rumble of an earthquake, a deep crystalline tone that he felt more than heard and that left his ears aching.

 Moving silently through the rubble of the buildings consumed most of his attention, so by the time he crept into the remains of what seemed to be a temple beside the orb-pedestal, the others already stood before it.  He glanced around, looking for the white beast Danovin had spoken of.  There was no sign.

He was about to join the others when something huge passed less than ten feet over his head.

 He hit the ground instinctively, looking up to see it land where the others had been standing, sending them scrambling away.  He'd never seen one before, but he knew immediately that it was a dragon.

 There was a vicious gleam in it's pure, icy blue eyes, it's white scales shining like jagged sheets of ice.  A strange and unfortunately familiar harness was strapped across it's chest, bearing large purple crystals and a few of pale blue.

 “What are you doing here?” it said, it's voice booming and breath steaming with cold in spite of the relative mildness inside the dome.  “Only Dragons are allowed here, leave immediately.”

 Suniel stepped out from behind a broken wall he had dodged behind.  “We bear Gilderalin's mark.”

 Harold joined the wizard, arrow knocked.

 “I don't care if you have the mark of Garnaal or are Gilderalin's long-lost half-breed son, you're not a dragon, so you are not allowed here.  Leave.  Now.”

 “Who is Garnaal?” Kezzek said, joining the others.

 “Garnaal is the Dragon currently telling you to leave now or die here.”

 “Can you at least tell us-” Suniel said.

 “No!  Leave, NOW!” Garnaal boomed.

 “We were told that orb protected the Ashen Tower.  Surely the Dragon Council doesn't-”  Harold began.

 One second his companions were trying to speak with the dragon that loomed over them, the next they were engulfed in a chill blast of freezing air and razor ice shards.

 ***

 Suniel gasped, staggered, and slipped through the rubble, his left side shredded by shards of ice and numb with cold.  He glanced back to see the dragon tear into the guardian, claws slicing through the silver metal of its body like a sharp knife through cheese.  Garnaal snarled and spun around as arrows flew at it from the other direction and unleashed another blast of its terrible breath.  The arrows stopped.

 Suniel halted for a second and threw his most powerful spell at the dragon – the same one he had used so effectively on his son three days before.  Garnaal shook it off and turned to scan the ruins in Suniel's direction, keen eyes sweeping the broken and tumbled buildings.  It had almost spotted him when Kezzek attacked it from another direction, slashing with his quor'rel.

Suniel took the opportunity to duck low and scramble to a new position, finding a set of partially intact stairs that led to the mostly demolished upper floor of what might have been a barracks.  He stepped out onto a crumbling balcony in time to see Kormak tear a handful of scales of the dragon's flank with his bare hands, hammering the spot hard with his knees and elbows.

 Garnaal spun and sent him flying with a swipe of his tail and launched into the air, blasting Keeper, Kezzek, and the guardian with another blast of his breath as he rose.  Suniel chanted quickly to counter and the air all around the dragon exploded in flame.

 It roared and dove upon him before the fire had even cleared, slamming into the balcony and sending Suniel slamming into the ground amidst a rain of rubble.  He pulled himself free in time to see the dragon disappear through the shimmering dome that encased them.

 “Ready yourselves,” Harold called from somewhere out in the battlefield.  “It will return!”

 A moment later it did so, meeting a hail of arrows and another blast of fire as it did so.  It spotted someone amidst the rubble and scoured another bit of the ruin with its breath then broke off, pumping its huge wings, and rising towards the shimmering silver again.

 Arrows flew from two directions now and Suniel saw their intent; arrows pierced or punctured its wings again and again.  With a chant and a gesture, Suniel blasted its nearest wing and the dragon tumbled down, crashing into the domed roof of a mostly intact building.  The structure shattered into bits of rock and dust, the impact of Garnaal's fall felt even from Suniel's distance.

 “It wore a harness, even if it died in the fall, be ready!” Suniel shouted as he half-stumbled, half-ran through the ruins towards where the dragon had fallen.

 The dust still swirled about as he neared the shattered structure and he slowed to a cautious walk.  He heard the muffled movements of the others somewhere around him, but mostly there was silence, profound after the din of battle and the roars of the dragon.

 There was a sudden explosion of movement and he hit the ground just in time as the silver guardian flew through the air past him and slammed into a wall that immediately collapsed upon it.  Suniel looked up to see dragon launch up out of the dust, the beat of it'\s wings parting the dust in swirling clouds.

 It was Garnaal, but different.  The distinct smell of undeath was upon it and already scales began to flake off, like ice breaking off a glacier.  Its neck was twisted and contorted, clearly broken by the fall.  It rose to the air and hovered for a moment, dead eyes peering down at the figures emerging from the settling dust.  It opened its mouth wide, jaw distending grotesquely, pulled in its wings, and dove, heading straight for Suniel.

 ***

 Kezzek buried his quor'rel so deep into the thing's side that a whole section of scaled hide came away, already-blackening organs spilling out all over him, entangling him and causing him to slip.  The undead dragon, without even looking, reached back with an arm at an angle that would have been impossible if it had been alive, and slashed him.  He swung and cut off several fingers at a joint, only to be caught in a backhand swing that sent him headlong into a wall.

 He shook his head to clear it and rolled aside on instinct as its tail powdered some of the bricks he had been lying among and sent fragments of others flying in all directions.  A leap and a roll took him over a low wall and he circled around the still-intact corner of another building, looking to approach the monstrosity from another direction.  The others shouted and cursed and the occasional fragment of chant or incantation could be heard from Suniel over the din of battle, but the dragon was silent, apart from the thunderous sounds of the destruction it wrought.

 Reaching another avenue to the plaza where the fight was currently be waged, Kezzek roared, sprinted, and leapt onto the thing's back.  He slashed twice, then held on as it thrashed and twisted to dislodge him.  Kormak ran in front of it shouting and it turned on the dwarf long enough for Kezzek to get to his feet.  He ran up its back, somehow keeping his footing as scales slipped and tore out under his feet, arrows flew by, and the beast thrashed and turned as it was attacked on all sides.  It turned on him as he reached the joints where its wings met it shoulders.

 Its terrible lifeless gaze met his and it unfurled its wings around Kezzek, a rasping low hiss escaping from it as its neck turned around at an impossible angle. Kezzek didn't slow, planting one foot on the bony arch of its wing and launching into the air.  It's head snapped down, distended jaw slavering blood and ichor, but the bones of its neck cracked, shifted, and locked causing it to snap closed just short of Kezzek.

 He brought one point of his quor'rel down into the center of its forehead with both hands, half-fearing the blade would shatter on the reinforced bone of the dragon's heavy brow.  Instead, the quor'rel buried into it up to the hilt, his momentum causing its neck to crack and shatter in several places. Kezzek landed hard in the rubble as its body fell heavily beside him, blood and viscera spilling from dozens of wounds.

 It spasmed and twitched a few times and lay still.

Kezzek wearily got to his feet and walked to where his quor'rel was still buried in its head.  With a jerk and a twist he pulled it free, looking about and nodding to the others that emerged from the wreck and rubble all round.  “I think we got it finally,” he said.

 “No, the harness, there's-” Suniel shouted, scrambling towards him over a mound of loose debris.

 The dragon shuddered and Kezzek spun to face it, too late.

 ***

 Harold could only stare in terrible awe as the dragon's skeleton tore free from its shredded hide, a long wing bone shooting out and impaling the Greywarden.

 He cursed and took aim with a sinking feeling, knowing his arrows would do little to the beast in its new form. One arrow sunk into a rib, but two others glanced off bone and the skeletal dragon turned on him, moving with surprising speed, using its now-fleshless wings like an insect's extra legs to propel itself over the rubble. Harold wove and dodged, ducking through alleys and under crumbling archways as it pursued him, turning and firing whenever he could.

 At one point, Kormak appeared out of nowhere and shattered one of its rear legs, but it barely slowed.  Keeper blasted it with lightning from his eyes and Suniel hurled another small blast of fire that splintered a dozen of its ribs.

Harold took another turn and was suddenly out of the ruins, running headlong towards the shimmering silver of the bubble.  Sounds of bone scraping on rock came close behind him and he ran harder, lungs burning.  When he was nearly to the shimmering wall, he slid to a stop and spun about and raised his bow, just in time to see the dragon scramble over the last building like some obscene insect.  It rose up, swaying, until its empty eye-sockets found Harold.

 Debris flew away behind it as it scrabbled off the tumbling walls and launched towards him, but it was met in mid-air by an explosion that sent if flying off course.  Chunks of bone and strips of clinging flesh fell as it rolled through the dirt and landed heavily on its back, but even then it didn't stop.  Instead, it's arms and legs reversed clumsily and it came at him upside down, using its wings and even its tail like extra legs as it charged.

 He held the last arrow knocked, the last few seconds as it hurled towards him seeming to slow to an eternity.  _There is nothing I can do_, he thought numbly.  _One arrow will do nothing._

 Then he saw a black crystal embedded on the inside of its skull, glinting in the reflection of the silver bubble behind him.  He took a breath, looked down the arrow shaft, and loosed.

 His arrow passed through the empty eye-socket.  He took two running steps and leapt out of the way as the thing's head exploded, its breaking, stumbling, and crumbling mass crashing through the space he'd been standing in a second earlier.  He hit the ground, rolled, and came to his feet, only to be hurled from his feet again as the dragon's whole body exploded in a whistling cloud of bony splinters...


----------



## Crazy Eights

Just giving you a quick bump to check in.  Here's to hoping for an update soon!


----------



## doghead

Iron Sky said:


> Who is your favorite PC?



 Ming while she lived. Currently its Suniel. Like Crazy Eights said, watching his background come out has been interesting. So is his weird habit of collecting strays. I also like Annandor.



Iron Sky said:


> Which was your favorite fight?



 I tend to skim the fights. There are only so many ways you can describe shooting someone with an arrow, or carving them up with a blade. That said, I agree that the robot ninja assassins were well handled. Oh, another thought; how did the gnolls player take having his character shot from under him by Harold? Nicely written that little bit. 



Iron Sky said:


> What did you think was the coolest/most surprising/most interseting thing that happened?



 I like the way elements of the story have been slowly revealed. Who or what is Iron Sky? Who has marked the characters and why? Who is Kormak communicating with?



Iron Sky said:


> How does the world/story come across to you?  Gritty, real, fantastic, heroic, anti-heroic, contrived, linear, open-ended, surprising, etc?



 I like the world. I tend to play very low key simple worlds, mostly I think because I have not the experience to push things further. You setting is different, without seeming forced or garish. Nice work there.



Iron Sky said:


> Any other comments/suggestions/observations?



 Not off the top of my head. Scratch that, how about a map. I love a good map. 



Iron Sky said:


> I'm also curious to see if anyone can guess what happens next and/or what will happen later in the campaign.  Would be interesting to see how people's guesses might line up with what actually happened.



 I haven't got a clue.

doghead
aka thotd


----------



## doghead

Iron Sky said:


> Harold could only stare in terrible awe as the dragon's skeleton tore free from its shredded hide, a long wing bone shooting out and impaling the Greywarden.




Nice. Three times is a charm. I am going to have to use the whole dead standing back up. I particularly liked the zombie to skeleton progression.

Another one now joins the list of people waiting for an update =

doghead
aka thotd


----------



## Iron Sky

doghead said:


> Ming while she lived. Currently its Suniel. Like Crazy Eights said, watching his background come out has been interesting. So is his weird habit of collecting strays. I also like Annandor.




Annandor was probably one of my favorite NPCs for this game.  Unfortunately, the party didn't run into him as much as I'd have liked, mostly due to... well, don't want to ruin it.



doghead said:


> I tend to skim the fights. There are only so many ways you can describe shooting someone with an arrow, or carving them up with a blade. That said, I agree that the robot ninja assassins were well handled. Oh, another thought; how did the gnolls player take having his character shot from under him by Harold? Nicely written that little bit.




There are only so many ways to describe such things, yes.  I'm actually skimming through large portions of the fights as well in delivering the fights that you are skimming through =).  There was much more detailed arrow'ing and stabbing in the actual game, as you can imagine.

Grok'nar/Kormak's player seemed ok with Harold shooting him, since he was at about 3 hit points and the owlbear was going to tear him in half the next round anyway.  That said, it was insult to injury when Harold rolled (IIRC) piddly damage on the owlbear and critted Grok'nar...



doghead said:


> I like the world. I tend to play very low key simple worlds, mostly I think because I have not the experience to push things further. You setting is different, without seeming forced or garish. Nice work there.




I tended to play fairly low key worlds before this one too, at least in DnD; each campaign could have been taking place somewhere in the same world.  This was my attempt to do something I'd never tried to do before - be willing to "go over the top" and still keep it (hopefully) gritty and with a realistic sort of feel.



doghead said:


> Not off the top of my head. Scratch that, how about a map. I love a good map.




Ask and ye shall recieve.  Click on the map to view it without the labels.  This is my (poorly) hand-drawn map (poorly) scanned onto my computer.  The labels are approximate areas and some of the things they demark don't exist on the map since I scanned the map in half-way through the game and never went back and updated the scanned image:

FelskeinMap

I also have the route they followed on the map traced in on a different layer in Flash, but that might ruin things, so I'll wait to put it on until the campaign is over.



doghead said:


> Nice. Three times is a charm. I am going to have to use the whole dead standing back up. I particularly liked the zombie to skeleton progression.




Glad you enjoyed it.  Took me about 3-4 hours to make it prior to the session - along with 2 hours to make Danovin Au, who lasted less than 2 full rounds - at least the dragon lasted a good 10-15 rounds of combat.




doghead said:


> Another one now joins the list of people waiting for an update =




There's a list? =)


That said, I just got back from being out of town for the weekend after a busy week.  Next week is pretty busy too, but I'm aiming for 2 posts this week.  Might be a bit optimistic, but there'll be at least 1.


----------



## Sanzuo

Wow! A lot of people liked Ming for some reason.  I really wonder what it was about her.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 19, Part 1


 “Everyone alive?” Kezzek said, grunting as he examined his wounds.

 “Wasn't expecting you to be asking that,” Kormak said.  “I thought that thing killed you.”

 “Takes more than being impaled on a dragon wing to put an orc down,” Kezzek said.  “Or even a half-orc.”

 “I'm alive,” Harold said, wincing as he pulled another bone sliver out of his arm.  “I'd be fine not seeing another dragon as long as I live.”

 Kezzek nodded in agreement and glanced over to where Suniel and Keeper were walking towards the black orb, still rotating on its pedestal.  The silver guardian dragged along behind them as well, its legs mangled and its chest dented, but reforming before their eyes.  By the time it reached Suniel and Keeper, it was walking normally.

 They all joined Suniel at the platform, arriving just as the orb pulsed again and another energy pulse rippled out from it.

 “What is it?” Kormak said.  “I've never seen anything like it.”

 Suniel turned to Keeper.  “Well?”

 Keeper shook his head.  “The Nexus is completely silent.”

 “It protects Thessalock,” Harold said.  “What else do you need to know?”

 Suniel was silent for several minutes as they examined it.  Finally he grabbed the guardian's amulet and bowed his head.  Almost instantly, a giant silver fist slammed into the side of the orb, the metal crumpling around its metal wrist.  The orb continued spinning and a moment later it pulsed again.

 “That didn't seem to effect it much,” Suniel said, examining the crumpled section as it rotated past again.  “Anyone notice how it moved when the guardian pulled back it's fist?  I wonder if...”

 Suniel reached for the orb.

 ***

 “That's still strange,” Kormak said, staring across the lift at where the elf stood, holding the huge metal orb in one hand.  As Kormak watched, he tossed it to the guardian like it was made of paper.

 “It looks and feels like iron, but it weighs practically nothing,” Suniel said, shaking his head.  “I have no idea why either, which bothers me...”

 “I still think we should have just destroyed it.  Why are we taking it with us again?” Harold said.

 “Because I want to see what it is, what it does, why it works,” Suniel said.  “If I can get it to my carriage, it might have a key to tell us exactly what it does for Thessalock.  Besides-”

 He was cut off by a massive roar that sent everyone on the lift scrambling for weapons.  “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”  

 A massive golden head thrust through the bubble and the rhythmic thump of wings could be heard even through the bubble.

 “Who are you to-” Harold began, pulling out his bow and taking a step forward.

 “If I had known you would make a mess like this, I would never have given you my mark!  Better if Ashcandia had killed you on the river!” the dragon roared.  “Give me that orb.”

 A huge claw appeared through the shimmering membrane around the lift and snatched away the orb before anyone could think, much less react.  “You may have just done two thousand years of dragon efforts.”

 Kormak took a step forward.  “How were we supposed to know-”

 “How hard would it have been to NOT do the one thing you could have possibly done to ruin _everything_?”

 “Look,” Harold said.  “Danovin Au said that it was the only thing Thessalock was afraid of so-”

 “I don't care what anyone said about Thessalock!  I have half a mind to just wipe you out right now.”  The dragon began to noticeably calm herself down.  She looked each of them in the eye in turn.  “I'll give you one last chance to set things right.  You have that thing” - she pointed at Keeper - “use it to find the Orbs and return them to the Henges.  It may be Felskein's only hope now.”

 Without another word, the dragon disappeared back through the bubble and was gone.

 ***

 The lift came to a stop and the group, mostly quiet on the rest of the two-day trip back down from the peak to the twisted pyramid, stirred.    Suniel immediately walked along the walkway through the membrane, constructs in tow.

 “Who is that dragon to tell us what to do?” Harold said for the tenth time.

 “Gilderalin, of course,” Kormak said.  “I thought we went over that already.”

 Harold ignored the dwarf, as he often did.  “Still, that gives her no right.”

 “At least she could have told us what it was we did,” Kezzek grumbled.  “Dragons and their riddles.”

“It's not a riddle,” Suniel said, his expression grim as he walked back through the bubble.  “Follow me.”

 He disappeared back through the shimmering silver.

 The others exchanged questioning glances and followed.

 ***

 Inside the pyramid, there was a new mural adjacent to the upper door.  It showed dragons of all colors and sizes flying high above Felskein, dozens of them, tearing apart hundreds of gem eyes and blasting them with their breath.


----------



## Crazy Eights

Sanzuo said:


> Wow! A lot of people liked Ming for some reason.  I really wonder what it was about her.




At least for me, Ming was the no nonsense, straight forward soldier to Harold's polished, diplomatic guardsman.  They were like two opposites to the warrior spectrum, which was interesting.  That being said, Kezzek and Kormak and growing on me, they just haven't quite caught up to Suniel and Harold.

Anywho, thanks for another great post!


----------



## doghead

Thanks for the map. It really helps pull the picture together. Any chance of getting a pdf or jpg version. I like to keep a copy on my hard drive to reference when reading the SH.

doghead
aka thotd


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 19, Part 2

-Notes:  No .jpg Doghead, sorry.  I lost the original image, so I only have the Flash file I made.  As far as the story goes, things start to accelerate fairly rapidly from here...-

 The ride down the lift from the twisted pyramid was quiet, which suited Kormak fine.  He hadn't expected the wizard to get so upset about his son – Suniel was the one that blasted his mind after all.  He touched the quill tattoo on his arm and wrote:

_Danovin Au is dead._

 He waited a few minutes for a reply.  Then, the almost-imperceptible vibration of the platform in motion ceased.  Outside hit tent he heard the others rousing themselves and he put his book away.

***

“There has to be some way to get inside it,” Suniel repeated, walking another lap around the silver turtle shell.

 “Maybe we just need to talk to it.  Maybe it's lonely,” Kormak said from where he sat petting his dog and watching them.

 Kezzek ignored him and walked along the outside a little further, running his hand along its metal shell, looking for a catch, a hidden lever, anything.

 “Does that amulet that controls the guardian control it too?” Harold said, glancing at Suniel.

 “No, I tried that already,” Suniel said, taking a step back and gazing at the shell.  “There's some other mechanism.  We just haven't figured it out yet.”

 “What about asking it to let us in?” Kormak said.

 “Danovin doesn't seem the type that would make it that easy,” Kezzek said, growling as he squinted at it again.  He was about ready to give up on this thing, get on their way, maybe find more word of Annandor.  The assassin's trail was getting colder and here  they were puzzling over a big metal turtle.

 “This was made long before Danovin, long before Suniel, long before the Ashen Tower,” Keeper said.

 “Great, oh wise old one,” Kormak said, standing up and giving a melodramatic bow.  “Tell us please, if you may, how might we open it.”

 “The Nexus does not tell me,” Keeper said.

 “Perfect,” Harold said, shaking his head and walking towards the shore.  “Let's just leave this thing and get back.  We've been gone for as much as a week – who knows in that blasted bubble?  We're just lucky the ship is still out there and the crew didn't just abandon us to our fates.”

 Suniel didn't move.  The archer shook his head and walked off.

 Kezzek walked over to Suniel and put a hand on his shoulder.  “We've been at this for hours, if we can't open it, it will still be here when we get back.”

 Suniel slowly tore his gaze away from the turtle, sighed, and nodded.  “Come Keeper,” he said.

 Kezzek waited until he and his mechanical entourage passed then followed.  After a few steps he stopped and turned.  “Coming Kormak?”

 The dwarf walked to the turtle, braced his feet and raised his arms dramatically.  “Turtle, I command thee.  Open!”

 ***

 “That never should have worked,” Suniel grumbled as he walked about the inside of the turtle, examining the space.  There was more room than it would have seemed from the outside; two whole levels.  There were no rooms and no furniture, but they had found crates of purple crystals, chests of gold and jewels, and even some of Danovin's scrolls on the upper level – all bearing the symbol of the Ashen Towers.

 “Your just jealous because you didn't figure it out,” Kormak said, still standing in the turtle's head.  “Turtle, I command thee.  Turn left, just a touch.  There's a big rock there.”

 “You can just say 'left',” Kezzek said.  “We've determined this.”

 “When you get your own giant mechanical turtle, then you can pilot it,” Kormak said.  “Leave it to the experts.”

 The Greywarden snorted, grumbled something about “looking through Danovin's things again” and stormed off.

 “Good turtle, yes, head into the water.  Steady as ye go!”

 “It sure is slow over land,” Harold said.  “I can walk faster than this thing. Wait... how do we know Danovin didn't sabotage it so as soon as we take it into the water we'll all drown?”

 “Oh, I'm sure Danovin was expecting us to find him, kill... defeat him, and take his turtle,” Kormak said, casting a sideways glance at Suniel.

 Suneil walked away, feeling his anger and sorrow rise again.  For the hundredth time, he swore to undo Thessalock's work, to undo his own work, to somehow make amends for all the evil and suffering they had caused.  He walked to the back of the turtle and sat, ignoring Keeper's seemingly questioning gaze.  He pulled his knees up and rested his head on them, feeling the gentle swaying motion as the turtle slid into the water.

 ***

 “We'll stay in sight,” Kezzek yelled at Ragnen, trying to get his sea legs back as they stood on the swaying back of the turtle's shell.  “We don't know the way to the port after all.”

 “You can't miss it, it's the first civilization you'll find once you sail past the base of that monstrosity,” Ragnen said, pointing up at the Landspear.  “And it's just Port, not the port.”

 “The city is called Port?  Isn't that a bit... simple?” Kezzek said.

 “Heh, you've never been to the Freeholds I see,” Ragnen said.  “It has a new name every year or to as one Freehold or another takes it.  They rename it every time they take it, so most folks just gave up on it all and just call it Port.”

 “You really went to the top of that?” Guntl said, squinting up.  “What was it like up there?”

 “Cold,” Harold said.

 “Dangerous,” Kezzek added.

 “Dragon-y,” Kormak finished.

 “What does that mean?”

 “It's a long story, we'll tell you later,” Suniel said, standing in the turtle's open mouth with Keeper.

 There was a long cry of “Maaaaaaster!” and a small form dove off the ship and began excitedly thrashing it's way towards the turtle.

 “Great, just what we need,” Kormak grumbled.  “A brain-damaged goblin following Suniel around the inside of the turtle humming “the Master Song”, drooling, and spreading his goblin-stink.”

 “You're just jealous that you don't have one,” Kezzek said.

 The dwarf snorted.

 “There was fighting out in the lake,” Guntl said, pointing north.  “During the big storm we had a couple days back.  Looked like more of those Locath fighting squid.”

 “Like in the tapestry?” Suniel said.

 “Yeah, except less gnomes, present company excluded,” Guntl said, gesturing at the primarily dwarven and gnomish crew that still stood along the rail, staring at the massive silver turtle in wonder.

 “There's a True Stone in that direction,” Keeper said softly.

 “A what?” Suniel and Kezzek said simultaneously, staring at the construct.

 “The Orbs that the gold dragon charge you with finding.  They are True Stones.  One of them is north, within the lake.”

 “How do you know?” Suniel said.

 “And why should we care?” Kormak added.

 “I know because I possess the Seeking Stone of Water,” Keeper tapped his forehead.  “If I possess a Seeking Stone, it is my purpose not only to Keep it, but also to use it to guide the way to the True Stones.  It possesses the True Stone of Water.”

 “What do they do, aside from go in Henges, whatever those are?” Kormak said.

 “They are artifacts of great power,” Keeper said.

 “And what happens if we put them in said Henges, like the dragon asked?” Kezzek said.

 “The Nexus is silent.”

 “Wait a minute,” Harold said, walking closer to the turtle's head where Suniel and Keeper still stood.  “The Seeking Stone of Water?  Is that mine or Suniel's?”

 “It is one of the ones that Suniel placed inside of me.”

 “When?”

 “This morning, when we left the Sky Rail to the top of the Seed of-”

 “This morning?” Harold said.  He turned on Suniel and pointed an accusing finger.  “Where did you get another Seeking Stone?  Why should it be yours?”

 “It was in the mechanism of the Lift,” Suniel said calmly.  “It was what powered it and allowed us to ascend and descend.  When we got to the bottom, I removed it and placed it in Keeper.”

 “Without even asking?”

 “Peace Harold,” Kezzek said, placing a hand on the archer's shoulder.  “We have more important things to worry about.”

 Harold shrugged Kezzek's hand off of his shoulder and stormed over to where the turtle had drifted next to the side of the ship.  The crew dropped netting over the side and Harold climbed it and disappeared into the ship without another word.

 “Well, should we go see if we can find it?” Kormak said.  “Sounds interesting.”

 Kezzek glanced at Kormak suspiciously, but the ugly dwarf shot back a look of wide-eyed innocence that Kezzek didn't buy for a second.

 “No, we need to stop by Port first, get supplies,” Kezzek said.  “Besides, it may be that the True Stone was exactly what the fight Guntl saw was about.  Maybe Undredakul and Nakral, whatever they are, are having a war over the Stone.”

 “Well, perhaps we could talk to Undredakul and find out,” Suniel said.  “We have his symbol on the side of the ship and this turtle could be useful if we have to go into the depths to find him.”

 “Yes, that could work.  But we can discuss all this when we are underway,” Kezzek said.  “It sounds like we have a few days' worth of sailing ahead of us.”

 “Agreed,” Suniel said.

 Kormak ran to the turtles head, posed dramatically, and pointed to the west.  “Turtle, ho!”

 ***

 At sunset four days later, the city of Port appeared on the horizon; a sprawling mass of ramshackle wooden buildings built right up to the edge of the broken hills that ringed the Landspear and that ran right down to the shore.

 Ships burned in its harbor, smoke drifted from the town, and part of the fortress that sat upon its highest hill burned, setting the smoke that hung over the town aglow.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 19, Part 3


 “So what exactly happened here?” Kezzek said as they walked off the docks.

 “Eh, Webdyn's mercs took the town from the Thornspills in their last Feud,” the burly Port dockworker said, setting down a massive bundle of cloth and wiping his brow.  “Only problem bein' that Steamport's suddenly gone and now there's almost no trade goin' on, so Webdyn can't pay his mercs.  So, last night the Thornspills started movin' back in and sounds like they're going to get another Fued going so they can take it back.”

 “Whose side are you on?” Harold said.

 “You see a Freehold tattoo anywhere?  I'm no Freeholder, I'm a citizen of Port.  If you want some advice, don't get mixed up in any Freehold business.  They take it seriously, but as long as you're not involved, they're honor-bound or somesuch not to harm you.”

 “Where are you going?” Suniel said as Kormak started to slip off into the crowd with his dog.

 “I thought I'd see how many people I could murder here,” the dwarf said dryly.  “No, this is the first real civilization we've been to since I joined up with this motley outfit, so I thought I get some business done.”

 “And just what business is that?  Hey!” Suniel shouted as the dwarf slipped off into the crowds.  He turned to Harold.  “Where are you going?”

 “The Crystal Towers has been trying to get the Freeholds to ally with us for centuries.  If these Webdyns just lost their mercenaries, maybe they're looking for some allies.”

 “Well, I have Black Carriage business myself,” Suniel said, turning to where Guntl and the goblins were leading his carriage down the ship's gang plank.

“Do you think the Turtle will be safe down there?” Kezzek said, gesturing out into the bay where they'd left the turtle at  on the lake floor.

 “I think it's unlikely that someone will be swimming that deep out there,” Suniel said.  “Besides, I told the silver guardian to attack the first thing that entered the turtle that wasn't me.  Oh, and here, No Tongue made this and I think he wanted me to give it to you.”

 Kezzek caught the little wooden carving and examined it more closely.  It was a carving, painted black, of a disturbing, smooth skinned, tentacled creature with a vertical row of eyes that radiated evil even as a simple carving.  Kezzek looked back up in time to see the others head out their separate ways into the teeming streets of the city.

 “Oh well,” Kezzek said, tossing the creepy carving aside.  “Guess I'll go see if I can find some crime.”

 ***

 “Nice to be off that ship,” Ambassador Roderic said as he and Harold sat down in the common room of the Gilded Rose.   “Looking forward to a real meal too.”

 “We should be expecting Bradic Webdyn, he's apparently the one in charge of the Webdyn forces in the city.  I thought he might-”

 Just then the door swung open and a tall man with a spiderweb tattooed on his neck and jaw walked in.  His eyes scanned the room and he walked purposefully over to Harold and Roderic.  “Hail, I am Bradic of the Webdyn Freehold.  One of my men said you wished to speak with me.”

 Harold and Roderic stood and shook hands with Bradic in turn.  “Yes, we understand you are having difficulties with the Thornspills?”

 “Well, you might say that.  My cousin initiated the Feud to take the port, but unfortunately, by the time we'd heard about Steamport's fall, the mercenaries were already hired so the decision was made to go through with it anyway.  Now that we've lost the mercenaries we're heavily outnumbered by the Thornspills, and, to be honest, badly in need of allies.  Unfortunately, none of the other Freeholds in the area are willing to join with us, given the Thornspill's strength.  So-”

 The door slammed open, the Webdyn man who entered freezing in his tracks as Harold put an arrow into him.

 Harold lowered the bow as the man dropped to a knee.  “Lord Bradic!  The Thornspills are saying two of our mercenaries killed forty Thornspills and violated the peace.  They're declaring a total Hold War!”

 “Perfect timing,” Harold mumbled to Roderic as they followed Bradic to the door.  “Of course this would happen right before we got to the negotiations.”

 “Well, maybe they'll seek us out.  I don't know anything about Hold Wars, but it sounds like the could use allies,” Roderic said.

 “Maybe,” Harold said.  He stopped and listened intently, hoping to catch some snippet of the conversation Bradic was having with one of his captains as they mounted up and rode into the town.  He caught a few last words before they road out of sight and groaned.

 “A Greywarden?”

 ***

 “Your running out of men,” Kezzek growled as he booted another Thornspill corpse to join the other two-dozen that lay sprawled in the street.  Two dozen men still surrounded him and he was bleeding from a dozen wounds, but his orcish blood was roaring in his ears.  “I hope Crazz wasn't important to you.”

 He stepped on the body of Crazz.  He'd killed him first, since he seemed to be the leader, but that seemed to have goaded the Thornspill's men on instead of driving them away.

 They rushed him again, stumbling over the bodies, and he smashed one in the face with his gauntlet and cut another one down as the man tried to circle around him.  They pulled back again, circling about warily.

 “Surrender now and the rest of you will live,” Kezzek said.

 They roared and charged in.  _This looks like it might be it_, Kezzek thought as they all finally rushed him at once.  _At least I'll take most of them with me._

There was a cry from above them and a compact, burly form fell from the sky and landed in the middle of the largest press of them, sending them reeling in all directions and breaking up their momentum.  Kezzek took the opportunity to body slam one into a wall and run another through with his quor'rel.  He slammed a boot into another's back as Kormak slammed two of their heads together with a sickening _crunch_ and vaulted another to land at Kezzek's side.

 “Looked like you were having fun with out me,” Kormak said, flashing his hideous grin at Kezzek.

 Kezzek's orcishness overrode his Greywarden discipline and he grinned back.  “This city is rich in law-breakers.”

 “It's you breaking the laws!” one of the Thornspill thugs yelled.  “Cut them down, for Crazz!”

 “For Crazz!” the others yelled and charged again.

 ***

 Kezzek stood, still bleeding from his many wounds, and stared defiantly at Bradic Webdyn and his personal guard.  “Do you realize what you've done Greywarden?”

 “I upheld the Law, nothing more.”

 “The Law?  You broke the Peace.  You, a foreigner without a mercenary writ, murdered forty-three Thornspills in the streets of Port!”

 “Hey, at least half-a-dozen of those were mine you know,” Kormak said.  Kezzek glared at him and the dwarf rolled his eyes.

 “What do you have to say for yourself Greywarden?”

 “Three of them were knifing a Webdyn in an alley and I arrested them.  When they resisted, I dragged their bodies into the street and, unfortunately, into a large gang of Thornspills.  Their leader, one Crazz, demanded an explanation, and had his men attack me before I could answer.  The rest was self-defense.”

 “Perhaps in the lands where you come from, you were following the law-” Bradic said.

 “Greywardens are the law,” Kezzek said.

 “Not in the Freeholds.  Kezzek Stone, I hereby banish you from the Freeholds for blatant disruption of Hold Law.  Let it be known throughout Port and the Freeholds.  You have until dawn tomorrow to be gone from these lands.”  Bradic lowered his voice and the hardness in his eyes was replaced by sadness.  

“The Webdyns will be killed to the last child for this.”

 He turned and rode away with his entourage before Kezzek could say another word.


----------



## Iron Sky

<Note: New plan; micro-posts.  Easier for me to get in.  I'll see if I can get 3-5 a week.>

Session 20, Part 1


 “What did you do?” Harold demanded, stepping in front of Kezzek as he walked up the gangplank of the ship.

 Kezzek pushed him aside wearily.  “I'm in no mood to discuss it right now Harold.”

 “We killed a heap of Thornspills,” Kormak said.  “You should have seen the mess he had already made of the street when I got there.”

 “I'll have you know I was about to start important negotiations between the Crystal Towers and the Webdyns,” Harold said, following close behind Kezzek.  “Bradic Webdyn had the word 'allies' on his lips and then you had to go start a Hold War.”

 Kezzek ignored him and limped towards where the Black Carriage was strapped to the deck, surrounded by Suniel's followers.  Shruka walked over immediately to examine his wounds.

 “Hold Wars bad?” Kormak said.

 Harold shook his head.  “The Thornspills will kill everyone with even a drop of Webdyn blood for this.  They're pretty much useless to the Crystal Towers now.”

 “Aww, poor baby,” Kormak said, sticking his lower lip out in a pout and gazing wide-eyed up at Harold.  “No awwies fow da Hawowd?  Aww, poow wittle Howowd.”

 Harold stared at the dwarf for a second then walked away without another word.

 “So what do we want to do now?” Suniel said as he and Keeper walked up the gangplank.  “I heard we're not especially welcome here anymore.”

Kezzek grunted.  Kormak, still wide-eyed and pouting, looked up at Suniel and said, “da poow wittle Hawowd.  Aww...”

 Suniel cast a questioning look at the dwarf, then turned back to Kezzek.  “I think we should see about the True Stone of Water.”

 “That old thing?” Kormak said with a mock-dismissive gesture.

 Kezzek grunted as Shruka tied off a bandage on his arm.  “Lift up your other arm, let me see those cuts on your back and side,” she said.

 Kezzek complied and looked at Suniel.  “I don't like the idea of being a Dragon pawn, but it seems we need a bit of time to let everything at Port settle down anyway.”

 “You mean the Hold War you started?” Kormak said.

 They continued to ignore the dwarf.

 “If it's as powerful an artifact as we're being let to believe, it would be worthwhile to know its whereabouts at the very least,” Suniel said.  “Especially while we have a machine constructed explicitly for that purpose.”

 “There is another primary purpose for my construction-” Keeper said.

 Shruka tied a knot in a bandage hard and Kezzek yelped, leapt to his feet, and spun on her, his fists coming up.  The ugly acolyte casually back-handed him.  “That didn't hurt.  You call yourself an orc?”

 “Half-orc.  You call yourself a healer?” Kezzek said, rubbing his jaw.

 “Acolyte.  Get back here you big baby.” She pointed imperiously back at the carriage chest he'd been sitting on.

 “So it's agreed then?” Suniel said.  “We'll get the turtle and see if we can't locate the Stone of Water?”

 “I'm in,” Kormak said.

 Kezzek glared at Shruka, but sat down again slowly.  As Shruka returned to her ministrations, he nodded to Suniel.  “As soon as this one gets done with me.”

 “Great, we're in agreement then.  Make it so!” Kormak said, as if it was his idea in the first place.

 The others ignored him.


----------



## Crazy Eights

I think micro posts will work great, just don't burn yourself out trying to get in a ton each week.  I think even a couple each week would be plenty.  Thanks for the hard work thus far.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 2


 After two-and-a-half days of uneventful travel, Kormak called from the turtle's head where he was on watch.  “Might want to check this out guys,”  

Suniel set down the spellbook he was reading and headed towards the dwarf, trailed close behind by the others.

 “Those look like the pods that stuck to the side of the ship,” Kezzek growled.  “I think we're here.”

 “I think so too.  Look, I think that Locath is waving at us,” Suniel said, pointing out one of the turtle's eye-windows.  “Turtle, head to the surface.  Open up once you're there.”

 The turtle complied, angling up and rising slowly towards the shimmering blue surface.  “I don't know if I'll ever get used to looking _up_ at the surface,” Kezzek said.

 “We are almost on top of the Stone, only a few miles away,” Keeper whispered in Suniel's ear.  “I can almost taste it.”

 Suniel gave the construct a questioning look, but Keeper was staring out at the water with the others.

 A few minutes later, they were standing in the turtle's open mouth, staring out at a cluster of Locath that sat in the golden path the rapidly setting sun made across the waters.

 “We come to speak with Underdakl,” Suniel called out to them.

 The Locath bobbed and stared at them and their turtle.

 “He may want to meet with us, I speak for the Crystal Towers,” Harold shouted.

 “How do you know it's a he?” Kormak said.

 Harold didn't reply, nor did the Locath.

 “We bring him a gift,” Suniel said, causing the others to glance at him.

 At that, the Locath looked at each other, then one raised a webbed hand in their direction.

 “I think they want us to wait here,” Suniel said.

 “Yeah, so they can find a shark big enough to swallow the whole turtle,” Kezzek growled.

 “I don't think that's possible,” Harold said.

 Kezzek snorted.  “I didn't think they got big enough to swallow me, but that was until that last one almost did.”

Kormak squinted up at Suniel.  "So, what's the gift?"

"I'll figure that out later," Suniel said.

 With a splash, the Locath disappeared into the water.

 “Turtle, close and angle down so we can see them,” Suniel said, stepping back into the turtle's 'neck.'

 The turtle's mouth slowly closed before them.  By the time it had angled to where they could see the Locath again, they were swimming straight down into the black beneath them.

 “I guess they're getting permission from their boss,” Kormak said.  “I can just imagine them saying, 'Look what we found!  Can we keep it?'”

 “Or, look what we found, how do you think we can take it?” Kezzek said.

 “Well, all we can do is wait and see,” Suniel said, walking back to where he'd situated his things.  “Call me if they return.

 ***

 Four hours later, Keeper summoned them.

 A Locath face filled one of the turtle's eye-windows.  It made some bubbles as if talking to them, then pointed straight down and began to swim away.  After twenty feet or so it turned and waited.

 “I guess there's our answer,” Harold said.  “It wants us to follow it.”

 “To meet Underdakl,” Suniel said.

 “Or to meet the mother of all sharks,” Kezzek countered.

 They dove rapidly, leaving the moonlit surface behind as they plummeted into the midnight depths of the lake.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 3


They descended for four hours, deeper and deeper into the lake.  Kezzek could barely take it.

Aside from the Locath, illuminated by a glowing stone it had produced from a side-pouch, the world was a cold black weight pressing down on them from all sides.  At times, the turtle's metal shell would creak or groan, as if it were about to give in.  Kezzek paced back and forth, waiting for the sudden breach that would smother them thousands of feet below the surface.

"Look there," Suniel said.  "Its a palace.  Is it made of the same silversteel as the Landspear ruins?"

Kezzek walked closer to see.  There was the strange feeling like they were falling in slow motion towards the glowing silver of a small structure, complete with an outer wall, strange, twisted towers, and a courtyard surrounding shining silver doors leading deeper into the palace.  The whole thing was built against the side of what seemed to be an under-water mountain, rising up into the darkness.

He had to look away, his stomach roiling.

"Set us down in that courtyard turtle," Suniel said.

Kormak squinted and scratched his head.  "You sure we'll fit?"

"Yes."  Keeper said.  No one questioned the construct.

Kezzek looked back as the turtle went still and slowly began to sink.  They were floating down into the courtyard, silt and debris swirling about them.  Then the turtle gently settled in to the murky bottom and was still.

"Here we are," Kormak said brightly.  "Who all is coming to talk to the great Underdakl?  You going to cast some sort of protective spell on us Suniel?"

"I'll stay and protect the turtle," Kezzek said, clenching his teeth at the thought of walking out there under that immense press of water - magic or no.

Suniel looked at him compassionately, Kormak questioningly.  Harold never looked at him, already heading to the door.

"You're actually going out there?" Kezzek said, the thought inducing vertigo.  He leaned against the shell wall for balance and slowly slid to the ground.

Harold shrugged.  "Suniel discovered that anyone who walks through the turtle's mouth while under water can breath water like it's air and walk along the turtle's shell like it's flat land.  We'll be fine."

"Better make sure there's a turtle here for you to come back to," Kezzek said.  "You three go ahead."

"Four," Keeper said, expression unreadable as always.

"Turtle, open up," Kormak said.

Kezzek's gut's clenched, the image of millions of tons of water rushing in on them at once flooding his head.

Instead, the water simply stopped at the edge of the turtle's mouth, held back by some invisible barrier.  The others stepped through and walked towards the silver doors of the palace, silt swirling about them like dark shadows brought to life.

"Turtle, close," Kezzek said, unable to bear it any more.

By the time it was closed and he could look out the eye-windows again, his companions were gone and he was alone.

***

Something wasn't quite right about the inside of the Palace's Hall, or the innumerable golden treasures and coins that carpeted it.  Kormak's eyes were wide and even Harold was gazing about with pursed lips at the incredible wealth.

Suniel squinted at a golden goblet by his foot, then nudged it.  It rolled, but... strangely.  Then, suddenly, everything shifted and became transparent, as if everything was made of pale glass and he had only just noticed.  

There was no silver palace; the turtle sat on the empty lake floor behind them.  Where there had been the gleaming walls of the hall, there was the rough natural stone of a cave wall.  Where there had been mounds of golden treasure were crude carvings of coral, shells, with only the occasional metal gleam of gold or silver or copper amidst the rest.

"It's an illusion," he whispered.

"It's a what?  It can't-" Harold began.  Then he tilted his head to the side, squatted down for a second, then stood and nodded.

"What's an illusion, that giant fish-blob thing that's floating towards us on that golden dais?" Kormak said.  He whistled.  "That's a neat trick, where'd he find hot naked human women down here?"

A bloated, massive fish-like thing with a row of eyes running up the center of its 'head' swam towards them, the transparent forms of what it probably wanted to look like naked women walking beside it and stroking its slimy sides.  

Floating beside it, wrapped tightly in a tentacle was the largest blue sapphire Suniel had ever seen - the size of a man's head.  It seemed to have an ever-changing whirlpool churning inside it and Suniel could feel eldrich power radiating from it and filling the room.

"That is an aboleth," Keeper said, in as much of a whisper as Suniel had ever heard from him.  He nodded to the massive gem.  "And the True Stone of Water."

Suniel took a deep breath, struck suddenly by the bizarre and dangerous situation they were in.  They stood in an illusionary palace thousands of feet below the surface, breathing only by the turtle's blessing, surrounded by a fortune in imaginary wealth, and staring down an abomination with the most powerful artifact he'd ever seen - an abomination that ruled an under-water empire and had maybe millions of Locath at his beck and call.

_Choose your words carefully Suniel_, he told himself.  _The slightest wrong word here could kill us all.

_He bowed deeply, hoping the others would follow his lead.

Instead, Harold took a brazen step forward, head held high.

"I am Harold Trisden, Free Agent of the Crystal Towers," he said.  "We have come for the Stone."

Suniel winced and rose slowly, a spell of warding springing to mind in case they had to fight for their lives.


----------



## doghead

Ah Harold. Never one to mince his words or beat around the bush. 

doghead
aka thotd


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 4 


 “What he means to say, is, well...” Suniel said.

_I will not give it away, unless you have something to trade._ 

Its voice was inside Suniel's head, like filth dribbling inside his skull.  It was among the least pleasant things Suniel had ever experienced.

_What would you give for it?  The constructs?_

 Harold glanced at Suniel with a quirked eyebrow and questioning shrug.  Suniel frowned at the archer and shook his head.  _

Apparently it's communicating with us all telepathically_, Suniel thought.

“We will not trade our constructs.”
_
Why do you disturb me here?  Do not waste my time surfacelings._

Harold leaned close to Suniel.  “Do you think it can read our thoughts?  It's speaking into my head,” Harold whispered.

 “Why, are you thinking of killing it?” Suniel whispered back.

 “Yes.”

 “Then I don't think it can read your thoughts.”

 “It would murder all of you,” Keeper whispered.

"That's reassuring," Kormak said.

_Well?  I grow impatient.  My scout said you bring me something.  A gift._

 “Yes, the elf has it,” Harold said, gesturing towards Suniel.

 Suniel thought quickly.  Feeling in his robes with his hands, he found a small, heavy wooden chest.  He pulled it out and glanced at it before extending it towards Underdakl.  The aboleth floated towards him and extended a tentacle to pluck it from Suniel's grasp, leaving a thin coating of slime where it had brushed Suniel's hand.

 “Don't know why he didn't have one of those naked ladies come over and get it for him,” Kormak said softly.

 “Because they're illusions?” Suniel said.

 “They're what?”  The dwarf squinted.

 “How do you think they're breathing down here?” Harold said.

 “How are we breathing down here?” the dwarf countered.

_Is this all you bring?  _The aboleth said in their minds.  _This paltry handful of gold?_

 It held the chest before it and up-ended it, sending the gold raining down amidst the coral carvings that littered the floor.  It paused and pulled the chest in to examine it more closely, then looked back up at them with its row of bulging eyes.

_You are with the Ashen Tower?_

 Harold's expression darkened and he took a step forward, mouth coming open, but Suniel jumped towards him and physically stuck his hand in the archer's mouth.

 “It is a gift, a token you might say,” Suniel replied as Harold shoved Suniel's arm away and took an indignant step back.

 Underdakl sat motionless, regarding them for a long moment.  _Probably deciding whether it's a good idea to kill us all right now to take Keeper and our Turtle, _Suniel thought.  _Or whether that would bring the wrath of the Ashen Tower down on it._

_If this is all you bring, go then, leave me.  Disturb me no longer._

 Suniel bowed deeply again.  “As you wish great one.”

 Harold simply turned and left.  Kormak gave a deep bow and Suniel saw him swipe one of the coral statues as he did so.

 “I think we could have taken it,” Harold said as they walked back to the turtle.  “We could have the True Stone right now.”

 “You're welcome to go back and try,” Kormak said.

 “Bits of us could be floating about the inside of that cave right now,” Suniel said.  “Turtle, open.”

 “Cave?” Kormak glanced behind them at the illusionary palace doors.

 “How'd it go?” Kezzek said as they walked into the Turtle's mouth.

 “Suniel paid it a chest of gold not to kill us and we had to pretend we were with the Ashen Tower,” Kormak said.  “Other than that, pretty well.”

 Kezzek glanced at Suniel questioningly.

“I still had one of the small chests from Annandor's stash back in Northmand," Suniel said.  "At least we know exactly where the Stone is at now, in case we need it later.  Let's head back to Port.”

 “I thought he was banished from Port,” Kormak said, pointing at the Greywarden.

 “Well, it took us a couple days to get here, maybe that will all have blown over by the time we get back,” Kezzek growled.

 “A Hold War just blown over?” Kormak said.

 “That's where our ship is and it's on our road to the Crystal Towers,” Harold said.  “Turtle, take us back to Port.”

 The turtle pushed itself up from the settling mud, obscuring their view in a swirl of sand and debris.  Minutes later Underdakl and the True Stone were behind them and they sat down to discuss what to do next.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 5


 “Where is everyone heading?” Harold shouted at a passerby on the crowded docks.

 “No Gnomes left near Steamport any more, lots of open land!” a boisterous dwarf with a heft barrel on his shoulder called back.  “Besides, every time they fight for Port, it catches fire.”

 “I thought they weren't allowed to attack commoners,” Kormak shouted.
 “They aren't, but it ends up catching fire anyway.  You've got a ship, you should join us, tons of free land open for the taking!”

 “There's an idea,” Kormak said.  “Forget traveling to the Crystal Towers and tracking down artifacts for a dragon, let's just go start over!  Make a new civilization that's all pretty and nice!”

 They ignored the dwarf, as usual.

 Suniel walked back up the ramp.  “It sounds like the Hold War is set to start tomorrow.”

 “They scheduled it?” Kezzek said.

 “They're very serious about how and when they kill each other here,” Kormak said.

 “Apparently,” Kezzek said.  “So, what do we do now?”

 “Well, they said you couldn't set foot in Port, they didn't say you couldn't float in the harbor,” Suniel said.  “It's getting late, so I say we wait until daylight, sail East of Port, and hopefully just ride around this mess.”

 “Ride around it?” Kormak said.  “On what?”

 “The turtle goes overland.  I figured we could build something on top of it to put the Black Carriage on.”

 “Why don't we pull the carriage behind the Turtle?”

 “No, I mean the acolytes I agreed to take on from some other Black Carriage travelers I met here in Port.”

 “Acolytes?” Kezzek and Kormak said at the same time.

 “Yes, don't worry, Barodin and Trace will keep an eye on them,” Suniel said, walked across the deck to where the goblins, Guntl, and Shruka sat around the carriage, playing cards.

 “Barodin and who?”

 “Barodin is a paladin who agreed to join the Black Carriage.  Trace is a minstrel.”

 “A minstrel?” Kezzek said.

 “They're surprisingly good at gathering information, I thought he'd be useful,” Suniel said.

 “Maaaster,” No Tongue said, walking over and handing Suniel his latest carving.

 Suniel took it and examined it.  As usual, the little goblin's craftsmanship was amazing.

 “Is that supposed to be some kind of mountain?  Why does it go up and down?” Kormak said.

 Suniel's brow wrinkled it as he looked at it.  “I think this is the top, look there's a path running up it and little buildings carved on the top.”

 “Well done little guy, you made a thingy!” Kormak said, patting No Tongue on the head.

 “It looks kinda like the ones in the murals we saw.  Remember, in that twisted building on the side of the Landspear?  The floating islands.”  Suniel paused and stared at the goblin as it grinned and did a little dance at his feet.  “How would he know about that?  Only the five of us even saw those.”

 “Five?” Kormak said.  "He counting Dog?"

 “He counts Keeper as a person,” Kezzek said.

 Suniel glanced back to where the construct leaned against the rail, staring out at the sunset.  “Isn't he?”

 “Honestly Suniel, I have no idea what to think of him... it... whatever,” Kezzek said.  “Anyway, I guess we'll just settle in here until tomorrow,” Kezzek said.

 Harold walked over from where he'd been staring across the busy docks.
 “I thought I saw something,” Harold said.  “Be ready tonight when I get back, I'm going to investigate.”

 “Ready for what?” Kormak and Kezzek said in unison, but the archer was already jogging down the gangplank to disappear into the pre-exodus mob that thronged the docks, ready to sail their impromptu armada to recolonize the desolate lands that had once been the gnomish city-state of Steamport.

 “This should be good,” Kormak said as they stared out at the city.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 6


 Several hours later they were still sitting about the deck.  Kezzek was about to give up on the archer and go to bed when when Harold jogged up the gangplank.   

 “Follow me.”

 “What, did you get lost in the city?” Kormak said.

 “No, I found this,” Harold said, extending his hand.  A large purple crystal sat in his palm.  “Look familiar?”

 Kezzek walked over and picked it up and an involuntary shiver went up his spine.  The thing was cold, like it was pulling the life out of him.

 “Where did you find that?” Suniel said in a low voice.

 “One of those boats was unloading crates into a wagon, which I only thought was strange since they had straw packed into the wagon like whatever was in the crates was fragile.  They spilled one of the creates a little bit into the straw and this one fell out onto a bag of wool sitting nearby,” Harold said.  

He shrugged.  “When the wagon left I picked up the crystal and followed the wagon.  It sat next to a run-down warehouse for a bit, then a little bit ago they left town following the road south.”

 “Wait wait wait - is that one of the crystals, like from the-” Kormak said.

 “From the dragon and the beasts we fought before it, yes,” Kezzek growled.

 “And like the ones that we found on Elorn's ship.  They are creations of the Ashen Towers, designed to release unnatural vapors when they break that restore the dead to unlife,” Suniel said.

 “Well, you'd be the expert on that,” Harold said bitterly.  He motioned for the group to follow him.  “Come on, we want to catch them before they get too far into the countryside.  I don't know if any of you have been to the Freeholds before, but the countryside is a maze.  They all build walls around their fields and houses to mark their territory, then knock them down when the territory changes, make their own roads so they don't have to use the _other Hold's_ roads.  It's a labyrinth.”

 “All right, we're coming,” Kezzek said.  He sighed as he picked up his quor'rel, wondering when everything suddenly got so complicated.  Life had been simple and straight-forward before he'd run into that damnable vampire...

 ***

 “Why do you need twelve guards in plate to protect a wagon?” Harold whispered.  “I told you.”

 “We believed you back at the ship,” Kormak said, loudly enough that the others all _shushed_ him.

 He rolled his eyes as the others glanced around the stone-walled, mud-roofed hut they were hiding behind like bandits.

 “Those are Silver Knights,” Harold said.  “They're some of the best mercenaries in the Freeholds.  When we attack, we'll have to set up a careful ambush.”

 “Attack?  Didn't you just say they are mercenaries?” Suniel said.

 Harold raised his hands and shrugged.  “What?  They're working for the Ashen Towers.  They deserve what they get.”

 Kezzek growled.  “Maybe they don't know who they're working for.  A lot of mercs don't ask questions.”

 “That's their problem, not ours,” Harold said.  “Look, we can't let those _things_ they're moving get to whoever it is that wants them.  What do you propose we do, just go ask them to stop?”

 “Sure,” Kezzek said, walking around the side of the building before Harold could pull him back.

 Kormak grinned and poked his head around the hut as the Greywarden strode towards the heavily-guarded wagon, hands raised.

 “Hail!” Kezzek called.

 A dozen weapons were drawn or leveled in his direction.  _This should be good_, Kormak thought.  _Actually, this information might be important.  This could be a good time to..._

 He scratched at the skin near his tattoo and looked around for a secluded place to have a moment of privacy while the others were distracted by the Greywarden's law-abiding sensibilities.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 7

 “Halt, who are you?” one of the Silver Knights shouted.  “Stop there.”

 “My name is Kezzek Stone.  I am a Greywarden,” Kezzek said, raising his empty hands.  “What is your business here?”

 “We should ask you that.  We are Hold-sanctioned mercenaries.  There is a Hold Purge going on so if you're not of a Hold or a merc, then it is your actions here that are illegal.”  

The man took one step closer and motioned for his men to lower their bows and crossbows.  “I suggest you walk away now or we'll be forced to uphold the law.”

 “You do know you're working for the Ashen Towers, don't you?”  Kezzek said.

 “That's none of our business,” the Silver Knight said.  “And I strongly suggest you make in none of yours.”

 “Fair enough,” Kezzek said and turned to walk back to the others.

 “That's it?” Suniel said.  “You're just going to let them walk away?”

 “I am.  They have it right.  I started a Hold Purge already, I'm done here,” Kezzek said, walking back towards Port.  “Let me know how it all goes.”

 They watched the Greywarden walked back through the fields.

 “Maybe I can convince them,” Suniel said.  He chanted, ran his hand past his face, and vanished.

 “He do that often?” Kormak said.

 “Not as much as he used to.  He said he's mostly past such 'petty magics' again,” Harold said.  “Whatever that means.”

_Let's hope I don't have to use any more magic than this,_ Suniel thought as he walked towards the wagon.

 “Silver Knights, know that you will be doing great evil if you fulfill your contract,” he said, standing a ways away from the wagon.

 “Who'se that now,” the same man, probably their Captain, said, scanning the area around for Suniel.  “How many interruptions do we have to put up with?”

 “Call it what you will, but I implore you to reconsider.”

 The Captain squinted and his main raised their weapons.  “Step out where we can see you.”

 “This is one contract I urge you to not complete,” Suniel said, walking quickly around them and moving further away as a white-robed figure in their midst began an incantation and looked in his direction.

 “Why should we listen to a man who must hide behind magics?” the Captain said.  He glanced back at the robed figure, who shook his head.

 Suniel continued to circle around them.  He stood further up the road when he spoke again.  “I know you have no idea what you do, for as just men you could not go on if you knew.  Your cargo is dark Ashen Towers necromancy.  You do Thessalock's work here.  Turn back!”

The Captain made a sharp gesture and his men unleashed a volley of arrows and crossbow bolts in Suniel's direction, one close enough that it stuck through Suniel's robe.  He ducked behind a stone wall and moved again.

 “I ask again, do not do this!”  Suniel said.

 “Bah, leave this coward,” the Captain said.  “Move on men.”

 Suniel watched impotently as the mercenaries and their wagon continued down the road.  A few minutes later, Harold and Kormak emerged from behind the hut and looked around.  Suniel banished his spell of concealment and walked to them.

 “What now, oh great sorcerer?  Did you make them abandon their woeful path?” Kormak said.

 “I guess we follow and see where they're taking them,”  Suniel said.

 Harold grunted and put his bow back in his quiver.  “Maybe we shouldn't wait that long...”

 “Or that,” Suniel said.  “Hopefully we'll find some other option.”

***

 They followed until dawn.

 “I'm going to talk to them again,” Suniel finally said, the weariness of the long night and frustration of their task finally catching up with him.

 “Well, before you do, you might want with _them_,” Kormak said, pointing up.

 High above, three black robed figures plummeted from the sky.


----------



## Crazy Eights

I am really liking the shorter posts, since it caters to my need for instant gratification.  How are they working out for you, Iron Sky?  Hopefully they took some of the pressure to write huge posts off of your shoulders.  Man, now I'm really excited to see what baddies are going to fall out of the sky next time!


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 8

<Note: Yea Eights, the short posts work much better.  Amazing how 3-5 one page write-ups are easier than 1 three page write-up...  Unfortunately, right before this session my laptop died and took all the different types Iron Sky constructs I'd painstakingly created out with it, so I had to use some "old familiars."  A couple sessions from this one though...>

 The three robed constructs were dispatched with quick efficiency.

 As they fell, Suniel engulfed the lowest one in a ball of flame so the two above it fell through no more than a cloud of burning cloth and rapidly-dissolving metal.

 Harold put six arrows into another before it even reached the ground and a seventh and eighth caused it to detonate just as it dropped eight of the smaller constructs from fifty feet up.  Half of them exploded as they hit the ground.

 The others were dispatched with similar efficiency and when the last one exploded, a few slivers of metal in Kormak from standing too close to the first one he dismantled were all the harm anyone suffered.

 Harold turned to Suniel, troubled, as he put his bow back in its quiver.  Kormak knelt in the scorched field, examining the disintegrating remnants of their attackers.

 “What were they doing here?” Harold said.  “I thought we might have left them in Northmand.”

 “Remember the Landspear?  That new mural showed those gem-eyes all over the place.  The dragons probably couldn't get all of them,” Suniel said, frowning.  “And that other gem-eye before that, the one that was so excited to find Felskein...”

 “So, what'cha talkin' about?” Kormak said, strolling up to them nonchalantly.  “Is it time for lunch?  The weather sure is a bit nippy, eh?  And I say, did anyone notice that ravening band of killer machines that fell out of the sky just tried to murder us?”

 “We've run into them before, back in Northmand,” Suniel said.  “Remember that metal orb we took from the top of the Landspear?”

“Who's this _we_, buddy?”  Kormak said.  “If I remember correctly, you were the one carrying it, or your constructs anyway.”

 “Well, this seems to be definitive evidence that that orb was shielding Felskein from Iron Sky – whatever that really is – and now they've found it in force,” Suniel said.  “There's nothing even really around here for them to be interested in - at least nothing that I can see - so we might assume this was just a random scouting party.  There might be more like it touching down all over Felskein.”

 They were silent for a moment.

 “Well, nothing to do about that now,” Harold said, walking back towards the road.  “But we can still follow those Silver Knights.”

 “You're still worried about the Ashen Tower after what I just said?”  Suniel said, staring at Harold in disbelief.

 Harold raised his hands and shrugged.  “Like I said, what are we going to do about it.  We don't even know what Iron Sky is or what it wants, aside from those necklaces.  I _do_ know what the Ashen Tower is about though, and you know even better than me.  Let's go.”

 ***

 “They're making camp just around that big hill,” Suniel said, suddenly re-appearing before Harold and Kormak.  “It looks like they set up an ambush in case we kept following them.”

 “Should we take them on tonight then, while they sleep?” Harold said.

 Suniel thought about it, then shook his head.  “No, I want to try to talk to them one more time.  They wouldn't be making camp out here in the middle of no-where if they didn't have quite a bit to go yet, so I say we get a good night's rest ourselves.  After I talk to them that is.”

"Whatever," Harold said, shaking his head as he laid down his bedroll.

 “Good luck,” Kormak said.

 The elf began scrambling up the nearest hill.  A few minutes later, Kormak thought he heard some shouting as he was writing another report.  Sure enough, not ten minutes after that Suniel limped into their small makeshift camp with a grim look on his face.

 “They refuse to listen to reason.  Tomorrow, we'll follow them for a ways, then slip ahead and set up an ambush.  Those crates aren't getting to wherever Thessalock wants them.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Note: Sanzuo is jumping in while I'm out with some stories from Kezzek back in Northmand.


----------



## doghead

Good luck with the project. See you when you get back.

doghead
aka thotd


----------



## Sanzuo

"Orc" by Pierrick

It was a hot summer afternoon in Northmand and Lieutenant Ulrik was very unhappy.  Yesterday he had been told he was denied his annual pay raise, the paperwork from the Barge Incident was never-ending and now there was an unwashed junkie lying on the ground in his stifling office.  The half-orc Greywarden who brought him in said that he was a “victim” of Agony, and that he was to be charged with “possession and use of illegal substances,” whatever that meant.  Ulrik was pretty sure there was no such law here in Northmand and that the Greywarden, like others of his kind typically did, was just making stuff up.

     “What should we do with 'im, lieutenant?” Asked the guardsman as he backed away from the slowly pooling vomit on the floor.

     “I don't give a rat's ass!”  Said Ulrik.  “I don't want him smelling up the cells.  Just toss him into a cesspool or something, and fetch me a page.  I want a letter sent to Lord Kellin, immediately.”


----------



## Sanzuo

"Tavern Brawl" by velinov

“This is the place!” The boy said to his enormous client. The half-orc growled as he appraised the front of the establishment.

The tavern was typical of its kind, a filthy, barely-lit dive full of like-minded scumbags looking to make a handful of coin any way they could, whether it be theft, murder or something worse. The wooden slats that made up the walls of the place were warped and stained a multitude of different variations of the color brown. There were vagrants lying around unconscious or dead in their own filth and the smell was like a decade old vintage of bad beer mixed with blood, vomit and feces... and that was just on the outside.

Inside was very much the same, only louder.

The stranger was a large, imposing brute; an ugly, darkly-dressed half-orc armed to the teeth and drooling slightly from the side of his partially-paralyzed face. He fit right in.

Lurtz was tending bar, which meant that he took people's money for grog and stood at the ready with a cudgel in case someone got smart with him. He watched as the half-orc stranger walked up to his bar, laid a gauntleted arm on the counter and gave Lurtz a deadpan look. Lurtz noticed that one side of the stranger's face was pale and looked like it was trying to melt off of his skull. He was probably a mercenary, and if mercs weren't fighting then they were looking to spend coin, lots of coin.

Lurtz gave him his best smile.

“What'll it be, brother? Let me guess, I'm guessing you just got back from the Ragged Hills, looking to spend some hard-earned coin, yes?”

Kezzek said nothing.

“Well, I got some of the good stuff locked away downstairs. I'll bring up a cask, yes?”

Kezzek said nothing.

Lurtz blinked once or twice. He was getting uncomfortable and twitchy.

“Women is it? Well I've got a one or two of the prettiest, mostly-disease-free human wenches just waitin' for a big stud like you to come along, yes? I'll even throw them in with the drinks at a discount.”

Kezzek said nothing, he merely pulled a small glass vial out of one of his pouches with his other hand and placed it on the counter. It was small, looked like it would hold less than an ounce, and must have been previously sealed with wax.

“Ah!” Lurtz gave Kezzek a knowing nod. “Looking for a refill, yes? That's some fancy stuff you got there. Not cheap at all, but I'm guessing that doesn't bother you, does it? Looking to stock up for a trip, yes? Long way to the Freeholds, brother. How many will you be needing?”

“Did you just confess to the sale and distribution of dangerous, illegal alchemical substances?” Kezzek said at last. “I'm obligated to inform you that the last statement you just made is admissible as a confession.”

“Huh?” Lurtz said, his smile turning quizzical.

“Your supplier, I want to know who he is. You are permitted to bargain for your sentence. My judgment will depend on how well you cooperate with my investigation.” Kezzek said.

“I'm permitted...” Lurtz sputtered and spat. “What in the nine hells are you talking about? This is my place, half-breed. I'm 'permitted' to do whatever the bloody hell I want. No, you may not know who my supplier is! I suppose you want a cut in on my profits, yes? Looking for some protection money, yes? Well, bugger off!”

The half-orc shifted his cloak so that Lurtz could see his left arm. The gauntlet that he wore was plated with thick black scales of some kind and covered his entire arm and a bit of his torso. Runes were lightly embossed on the surface of it. He leaned further forward towards Lurtz.

“I don't suppose you know what a Graywarden is, either?” Kezzek growled through clenched jaws. “I was once told by my mentor of a time back when we were respected and feared by lawbreakers like yourself. Of course, this was before you scum had these lovely fortress-cities to hide in from the real horrors of the wilderness while you just sit on your thrones of corruption and greed. Back in those days the mention of a single one of us to a group of bandits was enough to get them scared enough to call for backup. Yet, here you stand with that vacant, angry look in your face; defiant, ignorant, unknowing of the lawlessness and chaos that you contribute to. You make me ill.”

“Oh? Sorry about that.” Lurtz snorted.

In fact, Lurtz had called for backup moments earlier. He kept on staff several employees meant to appear like regular patrons. He paid them with beer. When trouble this large came around, they were on call to “diffuse” any messy situations that might arise should Lurtz give them a specific signal.

That was the signal that Lurtz gave just now.

The largest of the three that had covertly made their way behind Kezzek swung his truncheon straight at the Greywarden's head. With a sharp crack the club connected with enough force to splinter it. Kezzek pitched forward onto the bar and went limp.

“Wut a idiot!” The attacker laughed as he tossed his now-useless weapon aside.

“Shut up.” Lurtz sneered as he wiped spilled grog off of his apron. “Take him outside and slit his throat.

“Yes, boss.”

Yet, it seemed Lurtz and his thugs had underestimated the Greywarden's orcish resilience. Kezzek recovered from the blow in that instant. When the big one moved Kezzek's arm over his shoulder for easy carrying, Kezzek, without looking, grabbed a handful of the big one's hair with one hand and, with the other, punched him in the throat.

The big one went down with his tongue sticking out and his eyes bulging. The other two jumped on Kezzek. The Greywarden overpowered the two smaller men, sending one over his shoulder into a table full of patrons playing cards and head-butting the other, breaking his nose and sending him to the floor.

By now, Lurtz had recovered from his surprise and reached for his trusty cudgel. When he stood up from behind his cover, the half-orc was ready. Kezzek resisted bellowing out an orcish war cry and swung his massive arm, connecting with the side of Lurtz's face with his gauntleted fist. Lurtz spat blood and teeth and went reeling to the floor behind the bar.

Lurtz came to a few moments later face down. With one good eye he saw some kind of milky humor dripping off his face onto the floor and realized with horror that the half-orc's blow had burst his other eye.

Kezzek reached over, picked Lurtz up by his jerkin and slammed him down on the counter. By now the entire tavern was in an uproar. Many patrons were brawling amongst themselves and others were looting what they could and running out into the street.

“Lawlessness and chaos! What about you?” Lurtz sobbed. “Look what you've done. My business is ruined!”

“I think you fail to see the bigger picture.” Kezzek said as he loomed over Lurtz. The Greywarden's knuckles popped as he slowly made a fist.

“Your supplier...”


----------



## Sanzuo

​ "Renaissance Ballroom" by maxetor mer

A melodious performance played by nine brightly dressed minstrels rang through the ballroom. Piping hot, meaty hors d'oeuvres were brought fresh out of the kitchen on silver plates. The guests, lavishly dressed patricians, merchants, and débutantes from all over the city, laughed, danced and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. The word on everyone's lips was the horrible fate that befell the barge a week earlier. Subjects avoided by the aristocrats so soon after such a tragedy were becoming less candid and spoken in excited tittering voices to one another.

“I have heard the high priest has been resurrected.” One guest said to another. “Is it not a shame? The church can afford to bring back the dead while the others have to suffer the loss of their loved ones. The city should provide a service or something.”

“Oh please.” The other guest said. “Those that cannot afford a simple resurrection are clearly better off being dead, dear. Plus, it is clear the the church knows who deserves a resurrection and who does not. The dead ones clearly did not have enough faith.”

And so on.

What was on Jakob Kellin's mind, however were several other unrelated things. First was the letter from Lieutenant Ulrik that a Greywarden was going to come looking for him, the second was a report that Lurtz had been beaten to within an inch of his life and thrown in prison. The third thing on his mind was the report that never came about how his crew of highly reputable hitmen that he had hired had fared. He had a feeling that one didn't work out either. Nevertheless, Jakob was more than prepared should the worst come to pass. He had thrown this ball at the spur of the moment to give himself as much publicity as possible.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden crash of one of the ballroom doors being violently flung open. There were several gasps and a shatter of a dropped wine goblet.

_Right on cue._ Jakob Kellin thought.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

Lord Kellin's reeve waved his arms wildly as he walked toward Kezzek Stone in a near panic.

“You can't come in that way! I don't care what your emergency is, you guards are suppose to go through the proper procedure!”

Kezzek nearly shoved the poor reeve to the ground shoving passed him.

“I'm not a guard, and I'm here for Jakob Kellin.” Kezzek said.

“That's Lord Kellin!” Another man angerly shouted.

A voice rose calmly over the others.

“Now, now. Everyone stop shouting.” Lord Kellin emerged from the crowd, walking towards Kezzek. “This man is a Greywarden, and he is a guest of honor.”

That seemed to throw the Greywarden off. Lord Kellin was a tall man, taller than even the half-orc, though nowhere near his bulk. He took advantage of his height to leer down at the Greywarden.

“How do you do? I am Lord Jakob Kellin. Officer Kezzek Stone of the Greywardens, I presume?” Kellin extended a hand.

“Er... yes. Yes I am.” Kezzek mumbled as he took Lord Kellin's hand. “I must to inform you that I have come to take you into custody.”

“Arrest me?” Kellin said. “Oh dear, under what charge?”

“For the sale and distribution of the highly dangerous alchemical substance known as Agony, among others.”

Kellin made an exaggerated shrug. “Why, I don't even know what that is!”

“It's a drug.” Kezzek turned and appeared to address the listening croud. “It is said to be the distilled essence of pain, made material through magic. It is generally only used by sorcerers and the very rich. Its effects are highly dangerous and even fatal. Normally in places like the Freeholds it can cost up to two hundred gold coins per dose. Yet you are making it available to the general populous for mere pennies on the gold.”

Lord Kellin quirked an eyebrow. “Mere pennies? That doesn't sound very profitable at all. Why on earth would I do that?”

“I... don't know.” Kezzek admitted. “But that hardly matters. The fact is you are doing it. I can think about 'why' later.”

“Fact? These accusations are pretty bold, Kezzek Stone. I'd like to hear what facts you actually have. If you attempt to arrest me without just cause then there may be a problem with the local authority.”

Kezzek held back his temper and explained. “I have many pieces of evidence in the form of vials commonly used to contain Agony...”

“...or any other sort of alchemical brew, like for example potions of healing you are undoubtedly carrying.” Lord Kellin finished.

“I have a suspect that I obtained...”

“...beat savagely...”

“...who confessed beforehand to selling the drug and many others. That lead me to others who's statements led me to you.”

Lord Kellin laughed and shook his head in bemusement.

“Sir Stone, let me introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Marshal Colton.” Lord Kellin gestured to the middle-aged man who had spoken up before.

Colton stepped forward.

“Greywarden, these 'facts' you have brought forward are unsettling to be sure... but this accusation that you have brought against Lord Kellin, a prestigious member of our noble society, simply will not do. You're off the handle, my friend.”

“You're protecting him?” Kezzek growled, his hackles rising.

_Yes, show these people what a brute you are._ Lord Kellin thought approvingly.

Marshal Colton tried a softer approach.

“Greywarden, your kind are a great boon in the uncivilized lands. We are all thankful for your long and noble history of protection. Why, even our fine nation of Northmand would probably not exist if it were not for your people back in the age of lawlessness. However, this is a civilized land. We are civilized people with our own laws and protocol. In order to bring charges against someone like Lord Kellin, one would need to be a member of our own guard and would need to be given authorization by a Marshal, like myself, and the council. You are a foreigner here. You are interfering with our system, and in that way, you are breaking the law.”

Kezzek growled as he thought for a moment.

“I was ambushed by six swordsman in an alley yesterday.”

“And did they tell you who hired them?” Marshal Colton asked.

“No... they're all dead.” Kezzek replied.

“Unfortunate.” Said Lord Kellin. “Had you used a more tactful approach from the begging perhaps you could have gotten more information instead of corpses.”

Lord Kellin's face grew dark. He spoke in a quieter tone.

“You really have nothing on me. Marshal Colton is here telling you that you have nothing. The methods that worked for you out there among the peasants don't work with nobility. If you were smart you probably would have prepared better than to just march into my home at your convenience and haul me in.
I can assure you that if you try anything tonight, you will be one who is arrested. Marshal Colton here will have you banned from any civilized city in Northmand – if you are lucky. And if you simply murder me here, well I don't think I can tell you what will happen then. Either way if you try anything at all it will undoubtedly leave a black mark on your prestigious record, am I correct?”

Kezzek said nothing.

“I thought so.” Lord Kellin sneered. “Your kind really are dumb brutes are you not? No matter how badly you try to fit into society you can't help but show your true, 'green' side. Even though the Greywardens were kind enough to accept you into their ranks the only thing you are really capable of is brawling, bullying and breaking things. You poor animal. Now get out of my sight, you are upsetting my guests.”

Kezzek said nothing. He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out two sheets of rolled up paper.

“What is that?” Lord Kellin asked.

Marshal Colton took the papers and began reading them. When he was finished he started reading them again.

“What is that?” Lord Kellin demanded in a rising voice.

“It is a writ. It is signed by Marshal Spartus – and the Council! It says Kezzek Stone has lawful permission to conduct an investigation into the Agony 'ring.'”

_Damn. Ulrik! He got to him._ Lord Kellin thought.

“What is the other one?”

Marshal Colton look up palely at Kezzek and swallowed hard.

“It is a warrant for the arrest of you and me, signed by the Council...” He said. “and permission to use deadly force if we resist.”

_No!_ Lord Kellin looked incredulously at the Greywarden.

Kezzek said nothing.

___________________

The End!


----------



## Crazy Eights

I just wanted to say, thanks for jumping in here during the lull, Sanzuo.  Getting a story specifically for Kezzek was awesome.  Now if we could only get that kind of treatment for the others, too....

Edit:  Also, I forgot to mention it before, but I really like the art you included at the start of each post.  I like it even more that you gave us a link for each one.


----------



## Sanzuo

Crazy Eights said:


> I just wanted to say, thanks for jumping in here during the lull, Sanzuo.  Getting a story specifically for Kezzek was awesome.  Now if we could only get that kind of treatment for the others, too....
> 
> Edit:  Also, I forgot to mention it before, but I really like the art you included at the start of each post.  I like it even more that you gave us a link for each one.




I'm really glad you liked it!  So as a bonus I will include a .pdf of the Greywardens affiliation (from the 3.5 phb2) that I created specifically for this character.

Also, yes I'm aware that the Greywardens sounds an awful lot like the Grey Wardens from bioware's new game Dragon Age.  I assure you that Iron Sky came up with his original idea for the Greywardens years and years ago.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 20, Part 9


 Knight-Sergeant Trayson was nervous.  They hadn't seen that elven wizard since the night before, but he had proven he could turn invisible so not seeing him didn't mean anything.  Mages had always unsettled him, even the Silver Wizard that was accompanying him.  That much raw power in any one man's hands...

 The Captain told him not to worry, that one of them had probably got him with that last volley of arrows they had fired, but Trayson wasn't so sure.

 “Keep an eye on those hills, Jothan,” he said, turning around in his saddle as he rode.  “Keep your crossbow ready, I think we haven't seen the last of that wizard.”

 “You're just paranoid Sarge,” Jothan said.  “It's just being rearguard, I know it keys me up some times.”

 “No, seriously Jothan, the Captain didn't take that wizard seriously enough,” he said.  He glanced up the column where the Captain and the Silver Wizard were holding a hushed discussion near the wagon.  “Who knows what he's capable of.”

 “Well, if he's as powerful as you seem to think, why hasn't he just killed us all already?” Jothan made a dramatic hand motion.  “He'll do what, just wave his hand and-”

 The column ahead of them detonated in two nearly-simultaneous balls of fire, the force of the blasts throwing Jothan and Trayson off their horses.  Trayson rose to his hands and knees and looked around in a daze.  A dwarf was straddling Rochan and was denting his armor with his fists.  The only other Knight still ahorse was slumped over the saddle, half-a-dozen arrows punched through his armor.

 Trayson staggered to his feet and grabbed Jathon's arm, dragging him towards some brush.  Behind them, the wagon had disintegrated and unnatural purple smoke was swirling about the area.  Trayson pulled Jothan's helmet off and checked his vitals.  Jothan was alive, but barely.

 He looked back up and saw horror.  The still-burning bodies of his comrades and even their horses were rising with terrible moans.  The dwarf stood up and glanced at the rising dead almost casually.  He made a hand motion towards the hills then sauntered towards the walking dead.  Hindered by their armor and barding, the dead knights and their mounts shambled awkwardly towards him.  He ran around them, keeping just out of their reach.  They bunched up, tripping and falling over each other in their mindless attempts to get to him.  Any that started to wonder off were almost instantly taken down by a rapid-fire volley of arrows.

 Then, the dwarf suddenly sprinted away and another twin-blast enveloped the undead horde.  When the smoke cleared again, they all lay still, smoking and smoldering.

 Trayson had seen more than enough.  He hefted Jothan onto his shoulders and, crouched low behind the brush, slipped into the hills.

_Screw the contract_, he thought.  _There's nothing that's worth trying to fight _that_._

 ***

 “Well, that went well,” Kormak said, nudging the still burning body of a horse with his foot.  “Those were some pretty impressive fireworks.”

 Suniel shook his head, his expression grim.  “I finally managed to piece those spells back together.  I hoped I'd never have to use them.”

 “I hope you never use them on me,” Kormak said.  “There's not much left of these guys.”

 “At least those gems won't be getting to whoever it is that wanted them,” Harold said, returning to his bow to his quiver as he approached.  “That's all that matters.”

 “Maybe not,” Suniel said.  “Let's head a bit further up the road and see if we can't find who they were delivering them to.  I didn't want to have to kill these people, but as long as I had to do this, I'd like to find who was ultimately responsible.”

 “On that, at least, we agree,” Harold said, glancing up the road.  “There's no time to wait then.”

“Once we bury these people you mean,” Suniel said, casting a cold glance at Harold.

 “Burying them will take too much...” Harold met Suniel's gaze and glanced at the bodies.  “Yes, once we bury them, of course.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 1


 Kezzek stopped and glanced at the line of horseman blocking the road back into Port.  Bluish spiderweb tattoos were clearly visible on their necks.  He slowly reached towards his quor'rel.

 One rider's mount stepped forward and pawed at the ground.  “Hold your weapon Greywarden, we bear no grudge against you,” the man said.

 “No?  I seem to remember bringing forty or so of your men to justice.”

 The man shrugged.  “Small price to pay for what we're going to get out of it.  Bragas wants to see you.”

 “Bragas?” Kezzek said.  He lowered his hand to his side, but was still tense.

 “Bragas Webdyn.  He has need of the impartial services of a noble Greywarden.”

 “Hmm.”  Kezzek growled and squinted at the Webdyns.  “Very well.”

 The riders parted and brought forth a mount from behind them.  He mounted up and they rode.

 They rode throughout the night and near dawn, as they passed through some craggy hills, they found a patch in the road that was blackened and scorched, bits of burnt flesh, seared bones, and smoldering wood scattered all about.  He had a sneaking suspicion about what happened and the fate of those Silver Knights.

He pulled out his journal and jotted some notes as he rode.  His companions seemed a bit more unsettled about it.  They said nothing, but the rest of the ride they cast frequent worried glances at the hills, as if expecting some fire-belching dragon or demon to leap out.

 Kezzek was too tired to care much.  It had been almost two days since he'd last slept so a few hours later when they reached their destination, he was half-asleep in the saddle.

 A scattering of white tents were pitched at the base of a tall cliff.  Nearby, atop a hill were the ruins of a small castle that looked to have burned down long ago.  A wide, gaping cave opened into the base of the cliff and odd rectangular boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling on both sides of the cave.  He had a good guess about what was in those boxes, but he had a harder time trying to guess how many there were.  Hundreds?  Thousands?

 A tall man with the blue Webdyn tattoos on both sides of his neck, face, and down his arms walked out from a massive pavilion tent, a man in full plate and another cowled figure in thick purple robes following him.

 “Hail noble Greywarden,” the man said.  “I am Bragas Webdyn and I have a proposal for you.  Would you like to step inside?”

 Kezzek dismounted with a grunt and squinted at the early morning sunlight.  “I've barely slept in the last two days and just rode hard for a whole night.  Give me your proposal and I'll consider it.”

Bragas grinned.  “Direct and to the point.  I like that about Greywardens.  Very well, I will speak directly.”

He turned and looked at the ruins.  “Look at that.  That should be the flag of the Freeholds.  We've been fighting each other for hundreds of years, bickering and quarreling and blood-feuding.  I tire of it.”

 “So you won't wipe out the Thornspills?” Kezzek said.

 Bragas looked back at him, as though surprised.  “No, of course we will wipe them out, but only because that is the first step in my larger goal.  The Freeholds have never been unified, though many have tried.  I think I am the man and now is the time.”

 Kezzek almost mentioned the Ashen Tower's crystals, but held his tongue.  “So what do you want from me?”

 “Ahah, no nonsense.  I like you Greywarden,” Bragas said, turning and looking towards the morning sun, then out at the hills that descended down into the Freeholds.  “For the Freeholds to become a true Kingdom, they need a strong King.  That I can do.  But what the Freeholds needs just as much is a single order of lawbringers, someone to keep the unruly Freeholds from each other's throats.  You've seen how our Hold-laws function...”

 “Let me see if I understand you correctly,” Kezzek said.  “You want me to head up a policing force for the Freeholds, unified under you?”

 “Precisely.”

 Kezzek rubbed his head.  “I'll have to think about it.  Is there a place where I could rest and think on this?”

 “Of course!” Bragas said.  He gestured grandly towards the pavilion.  “Use my tent.  Feel free to use any refreshments you find in there.  I look forward to hearing your decision when you awake.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 2


 “I found these two trying to get away,” Kormak said, leading the two unarmed Silver Knights back to the group.

 “Did you see what the cargo you were escorting did?” Suniel said, gesturing at the scorched battlefield and the big empty pit where they were burying the bodies.  “We tried to make you stop but you left us no alternative.”

 One of the Silver Knights set down the other that he was carrying, stood, put his hands behind his back and stood at attention, defiant.  “We had a contract.  In two hundred years, the Silver Knights have never breached their word.”

 “Who hired you?” Harold said.

 “I don't know.  It was a figure in a thick purple robe.”

 “And where were you taking those crystals?” Suniel said.

 “Just up the road,” the Knight said.  “We weren't told any more than that.”

 “And if we let you go, what will you do now?” Suniel said, his voice quiet.

 The Silver Knight turned and looked Suniel in the eyes.  There was sadness there, probably for the loss of his companions.  “I would take my injured friend back to the nearest Silver Knights Enclave where he could recover.”

 “What of your contract?” Harold said, narrowing his eyes at the knight.  “You said that Silver Knights never breached their word.”

 “I would not be breaching the contract.  It was to take the crates to the destination at the end of the road.”  He gestured at the blackened, debris-littered path.  “As you can see, the crates no longer exist.”

 “How is that not keeping your word?” Suniel said.

 “It means we failed in protecting it, not that we broke our contract.  I think my dead comrades are testament enough to our honor.”

 Suniel stared at the man for a moment, then nodded.  “Let him go.”

 ***

 Lord Bragas glanced at the pavilion smugly as he lit his lantern and walked into the cave.  He doubted any Greywarden could pass up the offer he'd made.  He looked up at the sun.  The Silver Knights were running a bit late, but he wasn't worried.  With their cargo, he could crush any Hold that opposed him.

 “Sir!” Bradic said, his plate armor clanking as he jogged over.

 “What is it, cousin?” Bragas said.

 “There are... visitors.”

 Something in Bradic's tone intrigued Bragas.  He turned and shone the lantern at Bradic's face.  “And?”

 “Well, there's an elf, a human with a bow, a hideous dwarf, and a rusty red construct with lightning in its eyes.”

 “Indeed?  Curious. And what might they be doing here?”

 “I'm not sure, but it can't be a good thing.  I told you we should never have gotten involved with-”

 “Peace, cousin Bradic,” the Advisor said, walking forward from the shadows of the cave, the purple of his deep-cowled robe seeming to blend with the darkness.  “My pets will take care of them if they are trouble.”

 “Pah, save your abominations,” Bragas said.  “My men and I are more than enough to take care of them.  Are the archers at their places on the cliff-side?”

 “Yes, I never told them to stand down after the Greywarden arrived.”

 “Perfect.  Let's go see what they want, shall we?”


----------



## Xyque

*Uh Oh...*

Uh oh, I think there's a continuity error, the way I read this Kezzek is in two places at the same time, meeting with Bragas while finding a couple surviving Silver Knights.  Perhaps someone else found those knights?








P.S. More Harold! He's my favorite!


----------



## Iron Sky

_<Double post, nothing to see here>_


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 3

<Note: Yup, there was an error there.  I had in my notes that Kormak found the Silver Knights.  So, it being late, I originally wrote "Kormak led them back a sword point".  I then realized that Kormak didn't use swords and, not thinking clearly, figured I'd just change it to Kezzek.  Anyway, it's now restored to it's "original state"

As for the "more Harold" request, your wish is my command.  And technically, you "are" Harold >


Bragas was as arrogantly confidant as ever, but Bradic had his doubts.  There was a hard edge about these foreigners and it wasn't every lost traveler that had a lightning-eyed construct following them around.  He checked the straps on his shield and resisted the urge to draw his sword as he stood behind Bragas and the Adviser, staring across at the foreigners.

 “Hail, travelers,” Bragas shouted at them, raising a hand.  “I think you may be lost, friends.”

 “Perhaps, it would depend on whether you were expecting someone,” the human in the group said.  He wore a uniform that Bradic recognized as Crystal Towers make. The dwarf and elf seemed to be unarmed, which set Bradic on edge even more.  

_Why would a lone Crystal Towers soldier be here with this dwarf and elf?_ Bradic thought, answered a moment later when the man tossed a partially blackened silver helmet to the ground.

 Bradic took a deep breath and began slowly scanning the hills beyond and below the foreigners for more Crystal Towers soldiers.   He saw none.  _Could it be these three killed all our hired Silver Knights?  _Three_ of them? Does the Crystal Towers know of Bragas's deal with the Ashen Tower?_ His gut clenched with anxiety and he placed a warning hand on Bragas's arm.

 Bragas shrugged it off, squinting his eyes at the travelers, his expression gone hard.  “I might ask what three foreigners are doing wandering the Freeholds in the midst of a Hold War.  You're deep into Webdyn territory and I don't see any tattoos on your necks.”

 “Webdyn territory?” the dwarf said, looking around as if surprised.  “I must have missed the sign.”

 “Are the Webdyn's in the habit of making transactions with Thessalock?” the Crystal Tower's man said, pointing an accusing finger at Bragas.

 Bradic's gut clenched, the knowledge of a dozen of their men hidden about the cliff behind him with bows at the ready doing little to calm him.  _Either there's a hundred more Crystal Towers soldiers out there waiting for the word to attack or these three are no one to be trifled with_, Bradic thought, running his damp palm across his hair nervously.

 “I think it's time for you to leave.  Now.”  Bragas said.  “No one trespasses on Webdyn property, on pain of death.  No foreigner travels the Freeholds during a Hold War, on pain of death.  Leave now or I will be forced to uphold the laws.”

 “Who put you in charge?” the dwarf said, crossing his arms.  The elf glanced at the dwarf and shook his head, but didn't say anything.

 Bragas rose up to his full immense height.  “I am Bragas Webdyn, Hold Lord of the Webdyn Holdings.  You have thirty seconds to leave.  Or else.”

 “Thirty seconds?” the elf said.  “No need to be hasty, we're leaving.  Just let me get this pebble from my boot first.”

 He sat on a nearby rock and began digging around in his boot.

 “And I need a bite to eat before we take to the road again,” the dwarf said.  He set down his small pack and began rummaging through it.  “I swear there's an apple in here somewhere.”

 The Crystal Towers soldier didn't join the others.  He stood unmoving, no slightest trace of humor on his face as he stared across the dusty ground at Bragas.  Bradic could hear Bragas's teeth grinding as he stared back, his cousin's bulging muscles growing ever more tense.

 “Can't... quite... reach it,” the elf said, staring down at his boot in mock disgust.  “I might have to unlace it.”

 “Nope, that's not an apple,” the dwaf said, staring up into the sky as he dug his arm deeper into his pack.  “Hey, that's where Dog's collar is.  And hey!  I think I found my lucky belt buckle.”

 “Enough of this!” Bragas roared, greatsword flying from the sheath on his back.  He pointed it at the suddenly serious and sharp-eyed foreigners with one mighty arm.  “Archers, kill them all!”

 Bradic drew his sword and took a deep breath. _Gods, Don't let me die for this madman._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 4


 Kezzek was started from his sleep by someone yelling outside.  He sighed and rubbed his eyes, sleepily grabbing his quor'rel from next to him on the piled furs.  Metal clanged on metal, men shouted and cursed and cried out in pain.

 He rose, splashed his face in a silver wash basin on an ornate stand nearby, then made his way through the spacious pavilion and pushed open the entry flap.

 The daylight blinded him for a moment and he squinted and raised his hand to shield the sun.

 Kormak was leaping and dodging around Bragas while Keeper had created a shield of lightning and a sword of light and was facing off with the knight Bragas had called his cousin.  Bragas was bellowing and spitting froth as he swung his huge two-handed sword, but the dwarf was too quick for him, darting in here and there to land a blow and skipping away again before Bragas could reach him.

 The one Bragas had called his Adviser stood a few steps away, arm raised and pointed towards where Suniel stood chanting and gesturing back towards the Adviser.  Harold was running zig-zags across the open ground, firing at the cliffs as arrows whistled into the dirt all around him.  Kezzek traced a flight of Harold's arrows and saw an armored figure tumble from the cliffs, striking the rocks with several hard crunches before lying still at the base of the cliff.

 With another sigh and a deep breath, Kezzek charged into the fray.

 ***

 Bradic back-pedaled, murmured a word and healed the searing wound the construct had just inflicted.  He had landed several solid blows on the thing, but what little damage he had done repaired itself as he watched.  The construct approached unblinking, relentless, eyes flowing like water.

 There was a flash of flame to his right and the Adviser staggered back, robes smoldering, while Bragas foamed from the mouth, eyes bulging in an unnatural way, the veins in his forehead swelling and turning purple.  Behind him, he heard another of their archers crash to the ground.
 He lunged at the construct again, his blade passing through its shield.  Lightning shot up his arm and he staggered back, his arm nearly numb.

A few steps away, the Adviser suddenly vanished in flicker of darkness and a swirl of dark mist.  The Greywarden had joined the battle and he and the dwarf had Bragas on his knees.  As he watched, the dwarf jumped and spun in the air, his foot connecting with Bragas' temple. Bragas's head jerked, his eyes rolled into his head, and he toppled over.

 The human archer had ceased firing and was walking slowly towards Bragas, a long shafted arrow aimed straight at his face.  After kneeling quickly over Bragas, Kezzek and the dwarf turned and began to circle around him as well.  He raised his shield and prepared to die.

 “Take him alive,” the wizard said, appearing seemingly out of thin air, shimmering with power.

 “Ho!” the archer shouted and Bradic spun towards him, realizing his mistake a second later when the dwarf became a blur in the corner of his eye.  An iron grip seized his sword wrist, twisted, and jerked.  Pain shot through it and his sword fell uselessly to the dirt.

 “Night night!” the dwarf said, flicking Bradic's helmed off with one hand a split second before the dwarf's broad, scarred forehead slammed into Bradic's face like a hammer.

 ***

 “Was this all necessary?” Kezzek said, gesturing at the two fallen Webdyns and the armored arrow-riddled bodies that lay scattered across the cliff and about its base.

 Suniel's face was grim.  “You know I wouldn't have approved of it if it wasn't.  The Ashen Tower crystals were being shipped here.”

 “Give you five guesses what he was going to use them on,” Kormak said, staring at the wall of coffins lining the sides of the cave.  He whistled.

 “We have a lot of work to take care of here,” Suniel said, following the dwarf's gaze.  “We don't have time to bury them all, but drag them out here and we can at least burn them.”

 “Why don't we just burn them in there?” Kormak said.  “That looks like a lot of work.”

 “So we can break the bones to be sure they can't be used for necromancy,” Harold said, his voice soft and his gaze far away.  “The Ashen Tower-”

 “Yeah, yeah, the Ashen Tower is terrible and awful and all that, we know,” Kormak said.  He sighed.  “Well, let's get started.”

 Kezzek was already at the cave mouth and walking in.  Suddenly he stopped and raised a hand.  “Wait, I think I saw something move back in-”

 Kezzek's eye's widened, his face contorting with fear.  Then his body jerked and fell lifelessly to the dirt like a discarded puppet.


----------



## Crazy Eights

Ugh, don't leave us hanging with Kezzek lying in the dirt, the suspense is going to kill me. What's in the cave?!? I must know!


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 5


 Suniel didn't wait to see what it was in the cave that had killed Kezzek, he simply threw the most powerful fire spell he knew into the cave.  In the flash of flame that erupted, he caught a glimpse of two figures.   

 One, deep in the cave and barely in the light of the blast, was a tall skeleton with what looked like pink, pulsing intestines wrapped about its ribs and ending in a set of needle-like pincers that stuck from the skeleton's mouth like some obscene tongue.  _Mohrg_, Suniel thought, the name rising up out of decades-old half-suppressed memories.

 The other was black, slick, almost featureless except for eyes that burned with a pale blue light.  Suniel had no name for it, but it brought back images of the dark things that had begun to walk in the shadows around Thessalock when they were still working together on their grand dream in the Ashen Tower.

 As the flames enveloped the creature, its eyes met his and Suniel felt like an icy hand grabbed his soul and tugged.

 He closed his eyes and jerked back, gasping as the icy ephemeral grip loosed.  “Don't look in its eyes,” Suniel shouted to the others.  Judging by Kormak's shocked look, he already had, but the fact that he was still charging towards it was testament to his resilience.  Harold's expression was grim as he looked the thing in the eye and began firing.

As Suniel summoned up another more controlled blast of flame, Kormak leapt through the air towards the creature. It didn't even look in his direction as the mohrg's “tongue” shot out, yanked Kormak out of the air, and dragged him into the depths of the cave.

 The black, soulless creature staggered back as Harold walked towards it, loosing an arrow with every step.  Suniel hurled a burning cinder that hit it square in the chest and burned a gaping hole clear through it.  The thing cast one last hollow look at Suniel and dissolved away into the darkness.

 Suniel summoned a light to his hand and ran with Harold into the cave towards the sounds of struggle.  As they neared it, there was a resounding _crack_ and a moment later Kormak walked into the light with a rib-cage in one hand, three feet of ropy intestine in the other, and small bleeding pincer-marks all over his body.

 “That was gross,” he said.  “Let's not fight any more of those things.”

 They stopped and exchanged brief glances and nods as the adrenaline rush of battle subsided.  Then, as one, their gazes turned to where Kezzek's body lay.

 ***

 “Wake up, sleepy,” a muffled voice said from what seemed to be a long ways away.  “Come on, wake up.”

 Bradic awoke to find himself tied back-to-back to his cousin, his armor stripped away.  The ugly dwarf knelt next to him, while the wizard – that he now saw was an elf – and the human archer stood a few paces away, jaws set and eyes hard.  His mind was foggy and his arm and head pulsed with pain.

 “What were you planning to do in this place?” the archer said, gesturing towards the cave where the stacks of coffins burned.

 “Don't go in there, there's two terrible-” he began.

 “Too late,” the elf said, cutting him off.  “Our companion is already dead.”

 Bradic's head slumped down.  He took a deep breath and looked back up.  “Are you going to kill me?”

 “That would depend on what you say in the next few minutes,” the archer said, his expression saying he meant it.  “Choose your words carefully for what they might tell us is all that is buying you the breath to speak them.”

 His mind suddenly sharpened.  He saw the Greywarden lying in repose on the furs of his cousin's bed through the pavilion door.  He saw the bodies of the men, their armor glinting in the sunlight as clouds of flies swarmed around their corpses.  He saw the orange light of the burning coffins in the cave.  He felt the hard sunlight burning down on his face.  He felt the lack of breath in the body tied to his back.

 He took another deep breath and nodded.  “I will tell you everything I know, as well as I can tell it.”


----------



## Sanzuo




----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 6


"The Adviser appeared when Bragas and I were out looking for his sister.  You might have heard of her?  The Huntress?"  Bradic looked between them.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

 “Well, you're lucky.  Anyway, we were here looking for her and we found this cave.  The Adviser walks out like he's been waiting for us.”  He paused.  “Hey, I don't suppose you could untie me?  It's not like I could do anything against you guys even if I wanted to.”

 Suniel nodded and Kormak untied him.

 “Thanks,” Bradic said, standing up and rubbing his wrists.  “Anyway, I didn't want to have anything to do with him, or it, or whatever it was.  Especially after I saw it's hands... inhuman.”

 Bradic shuddered.  “Bragas listened to it then and I think... I think it did something to his mind.  He wasn't quite the same afterward, suddenly obsessed with the idea of uniting the Freeholds.  He was talking almost like his sister.”

 “What's this about this sister?” Kormak said.  He winked.  “Is she single?”

Bradic shook his head.  “Very.  She made a deal with the Hollowed One.  She'd always been fond of hunting and he gave her a bow that, well, long story short, she can't get enough of it.  We have to kick her out of the house or we find her putting arrows into the local livestock, she was even talking about hunting people.  Just... don't deal with the Hollowed One.  Everyone knows that after the Ravasi.”

 He looked at them like they were supposed to know who what the Ravasi was.

 They stared back at him blankly.

 “Oh, well, the leaders of the Ravasi Freehold went to the Hollowed One.  They were losing a Hold War and asked for the might to take on any enemy.  They rode back and crushed the Freeholds that were facing them, but they couldn't get enough.  They kept on taking on their neighbors until they had half the Freeholds arrayed against them.  It took their combined might to take them down, but the Ravasi were purged, their lands now forbidden ground, their name is a curse-”

 “What about Bragas?” Harold said, making a cutting gesture with his hand.  “Why was he dealing with the Ashen Tower.”

 Bradic frowned.  “That was all his idea.  Nothing I could say would talk him out of it.  He even sent a couple of my cousins there as apprentices.  I tried to tell him that if the other Freeholds found out, they'd Purge us, but he was set on it.”

 “So who's in charge of the Webdyns now?  You?” Suniel said.

 Bradic shook his head.  “No, he has two other brothers that are in line before me.  He – or the Adviser of his – had them swayed to his side.  One of them will take over.”

 “So what will you do now?” Kormak said.  “Go join rejoin your Hold?”

 “No, I think not,” Bradic said.  “I had hoped I might be able to sway Bragas back to the way he was before.”

 He glanced down at Bragas' corpse.  “No hope of that now.  No, I have a new plan.”

 Bradic was silent for a moment.  Kormak poked him a couple of times.  “And that is?”

 “I'm going to return back to our Holdings and find any who disagree with Bragas' unlawful and honorless acts.  I'll form a new Hold.”

“And, so, that means?” Harold said.

 “We'll need allies.  I hope you might be them.”

 “If you'll join us against the Ashen Tower, you have Crystal Towers as an ally,” Harold said.

 “And, on the more relevant local level, you'll likely have the Thornspills as allies if you'll join them at Port,” Suniel said.  “Once you get your forces together, could you head there?”

 Bradic thought for a moment, then nodded.  “Yes, it could be done.  It will be a march, but hopefully one we can make before the rest of the Webdyns organize and come after us.”

 Suniel extended his hand and Bradic took it.  They shook and Bradic turned, seemingly missing Kormak's outstretched hand entirely.  As he walked to the scattered tents, Harold leaned over to Suniel.  “You'll trust him, just like that?”

 Suniel shrugged.  “Not entirely, but I think the possibility of the Thornspills having him and half his Hold as allies outweighs the risks of letting one Webdyn live.”

 “Maybe,” Harold said, squinting after Bradic.  “But I still don't like it.”

"Why do we care about the Thornspills and Webdyns again?" Kormak said.

 “We want the Thornspills to win because the Webdyns are pawns of the Ashen Tower," Suniel said.  "Anyway, it's done.  Let's burn the bodies, grab Kezzek, and head back to Port.”

“What about the cave?” Kormak said, gesturing towards the massive opening where the coffins still burned.  “We have no idea what's in there.”

 “Let's keep it that way,” Suniel said, heading for the pavilion.  “Who knows, there might be more of those things in there.”

 Harold followed Suniel and, a after a moment of consideration, Kormak followed as well.


----------



## Xyque

*Whoops*

sorry to keep finding these, the following sentence doesn't make sense to me:

“We want the Thornspills to win because they are pawns of the Ashen Tower," 

isn't that the opposite of what we want?


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 21, Part 7


They traveled in silence on the way back to Port, tired from the battle, long days of travel with little sleep, and the heat of the day.  Kezzek's body was tied to one of the horses they stole from Bragas' camp.  Though no one spoke on it, they all missed the Greywarden's gruff presence in their own way.

 They made camp on the edge of the hills, laying Kezzek and his belongings down at his usual spot at the edge of the camp.  Harold climbed the nearest hill to keep watch and the others settled down to sleep.

 ***

 Suniel awoke to icy fingers on his throat.  His eyes opened and looked into pale blue, empty eyes.  A chill poured into him from the eyes and a familiar icy grip clutched his heart.  With a shout he shoved the creature back and scrambled to his feet, Keeper already stepping in front of Suniel, his lightning shield and light sword igniting.

 “Kormak, there's another!  Don't look into its eyes!” Suniel shouted, turning and scrambling a ways up the hill.  “Harold, we're under attack!”

 He turned to see Kormak grappled with the thing, eyes pressed shut.  Arrows flew from the darkness and Keeper was pushing it back relentlessly.  Suniel chanted, carefully gauging the timing of his gestures to prevent his magical blasts from hitting Keeper or Kormak.  A few tense seconds later, the thing was gone, leaving them standing about their fire in a shocked silence.

 Harold walked into the firelight, bow still in hand, eyes darting about.  “Where did _that _come from?”

 “Beats me, I woke up and it was just here in the camp,” Kormak said.  “At first I thought it was a nightmare, then I realized it was even worse.”

 “And it gets worse than that,” Suniel said, walking over towards where Kezzek's body had been lying.  There was nothing there except Kezzek's quor'rel.

 Suniel picked it up and held it, the firelight glinting on the double blades.  They looked at it in silence.

 “I wonder if that thing is worth anything?” Kormak said.

 Suniel shot him a dark look.

 “What, it's not like any of us can use it.  I'm just being practical, you know.”

Suniel just walked away.

 Kormak turned to Harold.  “What, you going to use it?”

 Harold walked away.

 Kormak grumbled to himself and joined the others in packing up the camp.  No one was interested into trying to go back to sleep.

 ***

 They stayed outside Port for nearly a month waiting for Bradic.  The Webdyns drove the Thornspills out and held Port and, though Kezzek was dead and gone, the group kept mostly to their ship and turtle just in case they were still outlawed.

 Harold snuck into town at one point and managed to find the Silver Knights headquarters in Port.  He hired the their whole local contingent to escort a large merchant caravan he managed to put together to bring much-needed trade to the Crystal Towers.

 He was feeling pretty good about himself when he returned to the ship and overheard the others.

 “... yeah, the Crystal Towers.” Suniel was saying as Harold walked up the plank.

 “What's this?” Harold said, walking up to Suniel's motley crew.  They all turned to him, various uncomfortable expressions on their faces.  Harold had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

 Suniel cleared his throat.  “Bad news.  We just heard of something called the Rising Plague in the Crystal Towers.  They say the whole Crystal Towers mainland is sealed off, no one is going in or out.  Rumors of people dying and... coming back.”

 “And, the really bad news is, I just got word that Northmand and the Hobgoblins are at war up north,” Kormak said.

 The dwarf kept talking, but Harold wasn't listening anymore. He stood still, but it felt like the world was spinning.  _It's happened,_ he thought.  _And I wasn't there to stop it_.  The others seemed to be talking to him, but he couldn't hear anyone.  _They needed me and I wasn't there, we have to get there.  Whatever the cost!

_"We're going now," Harold said, turning to Suniel.  "Get the turtle and whoever is coming, no more waiting around."

"But Bradic-" Kormak said.

"Damn the Freeholds!" Harold shouted, turning on the dwarf.  "We have to get to the Crystal Towers, no more delays!"

He stormed off, looking for the Ambassador.  _Nothing else is important.  We _must_ get to the Crystal Towers!_


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 1


 It was snowing heavily as Bradic arrived in Port.  He arrived in the night and Suniel didn't even know he was there until he saw the fortress burning, sending a strange diffuse glow through the heavy snows.  They were all getting ready to go investigate when a soot-smeared Bradic walked up the gangplank of their ship with half-a-dozen armed and armored men in tow.  He nodded to them as he came up on deck.

 “Made it, as promised,” Bradic said, shaking Suniel's hand.  “I didn't get as many to defect as I'd hoped, but I managed to raid one of the Hold treasuries and hire a decent array of mercs.”

 “What took you so long?” Kormak said.  “We were about to leave without you.”

 Bradic cast a semi-questioning glance at the dwarf.

 “Harold is... ah... impatient to get going to the Crystal Towers,” Suniel said, glancing at where Harold stood at a nearby rail, brooding and staring off into the snow.

 “Ah, yes, the Rising Plague.  We heard of it,” Bradic said with a shudder.   “Unfortunately, I know too much first-hand about the Ashen Tower's handiwork.”

 “Well, what about the rest of the Webdyns?” Suniel said.  “How did they take you raiding the treasury?”

 “Not well, I'm afraid.  There was some infighting when I brought word Bragas was dead.  My eldest brother managed to seize power and has been chasing me down.  Fortunately, my army has been traveling light knowing we could resupply when we got here.  His army's baggage train is slowed by the snows.  He's about two days behind.”

 “How big is his force?” Kormak said.  “They going to come and squash you?”

 Suniel rolled his eyes at the dwarf's lack of tact, but Bradic just nodded, his expression grim.  “They outnumber me at least four-to-one and half my force is comprised of unreliable mercs.  If it looks like the fight is going badly, I might suddenly lose half my army and be outnumbered eight-to-one.”

“You have the fortress at least,” Suniel said, pointing off to the ruddy glow where it still burned.

 Bradic shook his head.  “No, the last of Bragas' men there set fire to much of it as they fled.  The fire is too large for us to put out.  We can channel their numbers slightly with street-to-street fighting, but not enough to handle that size an army.”

 “Well, perhaps we could raid them as they march,” Suniel said.  “We have some experience in combat that might be useful to you – or at the very least we could scout them out and get a precise accounting of their numbers.”

 “Yes, that would be most useful,” Bradic said.  “I saw what you did to my brother and his hand-picked guards, not to mention the fact that you wiped out the whole platoon of Silver Knights by brother hired to escort the wagon.  Perhaps...”

 He knelt down and began tracing a map in the snow on the deck.  Suniel and Kormak and, surprisingly, even Keeper knelt down to examine his sketch.

 “Here's the Landspear to the east.” He drew a big upside-down V.  “Here are the broken hills at its base.” He drew some smaller v's around it.  “Here is the Fae Wood to the west.”  He scratched out a big area in the snow.  “We could launch hit-and-run attacks from the broken hills as he marches to Port, especially at these narrow points where the distance between the Fae Wood and the broken hills is the smallest.”

 Bradic looked up at them and Suniel nodded in agreement.  “Hit them out there where your mobility is an advantage, especially in the snow.  It could work.  It might not be enough, but it's a fighting chance.  When do we leave?”

 “At first light would probably be best,” Bradic said, glancing up at the dark sky, then towards the still-burning fortress.  “It's not much of a chance, but better than being trapped in Port with Landspear Lake at our backs.”

 “Are we heading out now?” Harold said as he walked up, not even looking at them.  “We've waited here long enough.”

 Suniel put his hand over Kormak's mouth before the dwarf could say anything.  “Yes, Harold.  We're heading out at first light.”

 “Good.” Harold said and walked off without another word.

 Bradic looked at Suniel.  “It's a plan then?”

 “I think it's our best shot, with what we have,” Suniel said.  Bradic nodded and stood, his men following has he walked down the gangplank and disappeared into the snow.

 Suniel stared after them.  _Not much of a chance, but at least it's one more small way to repay my sin in helping create the Ashen Tower,_ he thought.  _If there's any way it can ever be repaid..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 2


 They trudged onward through the snow, pushing hard to stay ahead of Bradic's army.  Between Kezzek's death, the difficult travel conditions, the Rising Plague in the Crystal Towers, and the knowledge that they were marching towards and army that heavily outnumbered them, the mood in the small group was somber, to say the least.

 In the early afternoon, they came upon what was, to Kormak at least, an unusual sight.

 Trudging up the snowy road was an approximately man-sized gold-scaled lizard pulling a small cart with a much smaller lizard on it - a kobold.  The kobold was dressed in rich purple clothing, including a jaunty hat with a multicolored plumed feather.  As they approached, the kobold stood on the cart-bench, removed his hat, and bowed with a flourish.

 “Greetings travelers, what news do you bring from Port?” it said.

 “News of war and plague,” Harold said.

 “Don't see many lizards riding lizard pulled wagons out here in the middle of winter,” Kormak said.

 The kobold's expression transformed into what Kormak assumed was surprise.  “Really?  Hm, I suppose it might be uncommon here.”  It cocked its head to the side as it noticed Keeper.  “You don't see many people walking around with rusty metal constructs either.  Where did you acquire that one?”

 “It fell from the sky they say,” Kormak said, before Suniel could shush him.  “I find that a bit suspicious, but I've seen enough things traveling with them that nothing is beyond belief any more.”

 “Intriguing.  Well, if I might introduce myself, my name is Meepo,” the kobold said with another bow.

 “My name is Suniel, the construct is called Keeper, the dwarf is Kormak, and that impatient looking man with the bow is known as Harold.”

 “My greetings,” Meepo said.  “A pleasure to meet you.”

 “Aren't you going to introduce your lizard,” Kormak said, jokingly.

 To his surprise, the lizard looked at him, stood and removed the yoke from its shoulders.

 “My name is Bail,” it said, cracking its back as it stretched.  “You must be the ones I'm looking for.”

 “It talks!” Kormak said.  He looked at Meepo.  “Did you know your lizard talks?”

 “He's a half-dragon, if I don't misjudge,” Suniel said.  “No offense, but you do a good impersonation of a brute cart-animal.”

 “None taken,” Bail said walking over to Keeper and looking him up and down.  “So this is the Keeper?  I expected something... bigger.”

 “So this is a half-dragon?” Keeper said, sizing Bail up in return, his tone and inflection matching half-dragon's almost perfectly.  “I expected something... bigger.”

 Bail snorted and nodded to Suniel.  “I'm coming with you then.”

 Suniel blinked a couple times at that.  “You are?”

 “Yes.  As I said, I was sent to find you,” Bail said, returning to the cart yoke with a nod to Meepo.

 “By the Undercouncil I might assume from your heritage?” Suniel said.

 The half-dragon settled down into his harness and turned the cart about without reply.  He glanced back at them.  “So, where are we going?”

 “The Crystal Towers,” Harold said, without a moment's hesitation.

 “At the moment, we're heading to scout out an army that's blocking our path to the Crystal Towers,” Suniel said quickly afterward.

_Very tactful Suniel_, Kormak thought.  _Responding gracefully to the unexpected yet again_.

 “Very well, let's be on with it then. I'll lead the way,” the half-dragon said, pulling the cart ahead of them.

 Even Harold shrugged at them before following along behind.  Kormak tagged along at the end of their strange procession.  _There's one to report,_ he thought.  _Gilderalin sent one of her children to keep an eye on us?  Never gets boring traveling with these fellows..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 3

<Note: First time I've been able to get onto EnWorld in a week!>

 They made camp in a massive, crumbling lean-to built around a stone shrine so old all the carvings on it were smooth-worn and unidentifiable.  They made a small fire with a bit of dry wood stashed in a corner of the lean-to and settled in as the snow fell heavily outside.  As they watched, Bail pulled out a rune-inlaid bag and upended it, sending gold, silver, and gems spilling onto the ground.  Meepo helped him rake it up into a small mound and the two of them curled up in it.

 “Dragons,” Suniel said, shaking his head.

***

They woke up to two feet of fresh snow and a half-caved in roof.  They ate breakfast as Bail and Meepo meticulously sorted and recounted their bed.  When they were finally finished, they set out, trudging through the deep snow and even deeper drifts.

 “No sane army would march in this,” Harold said.  “They've probably made camp somewhere.”

 “Then that gives us more time to find them and scout out an ambush spot,” Suniel said.  He motioned for Keeper to take the lead and the tireless construct complied, pushing ahead of them through the snow.

 “You have to take that cart with you?” Kormak said, glancing back at Bail.

 Bail shrugged in his harness.

“He's done this before, barely slows him down,” Meepo said from his perch atop the cart.

 “Well, as long as he doesn't slow us down,” Kormak said.  In reply, Bail muscled forwards and pulled past the dwarf.

 ***

 They found the Webdyn army later that day, not long after the snow stopped falling.  They lay on their bellies at the top of a low hill, looking down on the carnage.

 The army numbered in the thousands, but they were no match for the few dozen Iron Sky war machines that they battled.

A score or so Iron Sky constructs with massive bladed shield-arms and pikes made of lightning stood at the forefront, methodically slaughtering any Webdyn soldiers that came close.  Behind the Iron shield-warriors were three massive constructs towering over the battlefield, their single flickering eyes sending out beams of energy that cut swathes through the men and, as the party watched, pieces of the cycloptic constructs suddenly fell off and crashed to the ground.  As they hit, they transformed into what Suniel had labeled “Iron Juggernauts” when one had killed Kezzek back in Northmand.

A second after hitting the ground, the Juggernauts charged past the line of Iron warriors and plowed into the Webdyn force.  Around the edges of the battle floated the black-cloaked giants, dropping the smaller blade-armed ones to harry the flanks.  Even more disturbing were spheres of blackness that launched themselves unerringly towards any pockets of resistance or leadership in the Webdyn army, leaving a slew of corpses in their wake.

Floating above and behind the rest of the Iron Sky force was a single metal figure on a floating platform, the Iron Sky army moving precisely to his every gesture, as if he were the conductor of a finely-trained orchestra.  Finally, above it all flew hundreds of Gem Eyes, positioned in an unmoving grid over the whole battlefield.

 “Guess we don't have to worry about the Webdyns,” Kormak said, tapping the pen tattoo on his arm seemingly unconsciously.

 “We need to get back and warn Bradic,” Suniel said as he gazed at the terrible destruction being wrought before them.  “There's no way they can stand up to this.”

 “It doesn't matter,” Harold whispered, waving a dismissive hand at the slaughter before them.  “We need to get to the Crystal Towers.”

 “You're still worried about the Rising Plague when you see what's happening here?” Suniel said, turning on Harold.  “After seeing this, the Ashen Towers seems almost inconsequential.”

 “How could you ever say that?” Harold said, turning on Suniel, eyes burning.  “Just because you used to be part of it?”

 Suniel stared back at him, then gestured towards the battle.  “Open your eyes and look at what's happening down there.  As far as we know, this is happening all across Felskein.”

 “All the better reason to head to Crystal Towers as soon as we can,” Harold said, starting to crawl away from the crest of the hill.

 “I agree with Harold in one thing at least,” Kormak said, crawling after Harold.  “I don't want to stick around and have to fight these things.”

 “Is this the only army Iron Sky has?” Suniel said, glancing at Keeper.

 “This isn't even an army,” Keeper said, before turning and joining the others.

Suniel cast a final look below.

"Gods help us."


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 4


 “No, turn your forces around, now!” Suniel said.

 “But you said their force is broken, now is the best time to strike!” Bradic said, staring down at the elf from atop his warhorse.

 “What do you think would happen to your army if you ran into the... the golem army that destroyed them?” Suniel said, gesturing back at the long column of soldiers that stretched out through the snows.  “You'll send half these men to their graves for naught!”

 Bradic bit his lip and looked back at the army, then back at Suniel.

 “It's your only chance, Bradic.  Trust me, I've had a companion killed when the four of us were fighting a single one of these things, and you saw what we are capable of,” Suniel said softly.  “Think of this as a blessing – the Webdyn army is no more.  Port is yours uncontested.”

 “I will trust you against what my instincts tell me,” Bradic said.  He issued a quick flurry of orders to his officers then turned back to Suniel.  “Where does this golem army come from?  Who created them?  What is their purpose?”  Bradic cast a questioning glance at Keeper.

 Suniel nodded.  “Yes, they are akin to him.  There is little more I can tell you.  They are ancient and from far away.  Their purpose is inscrutable, but I fear for all of Felskein.”

 “Dark words, wizard,” Bradic said.  “I hope things are not so grim as you fear.”

 “As do I... as do I.”

 Suniel turned to Kormak, Harold, and Bail as the army began to turn and return to Port.

 “Now what?” Kormak said.  “Back to Port?”

 “I was told a little about this Iron Sky,” Bail said.  He walked to his cart and pulled a massive adamantine greatsword from the back.  “How hard can they be to kill.”

 “Maybe that one that was on the platform was the leader of Iron Sky,” Harold said.  “If we take it out...”

 “An Iron Marshal,” Keeper said.

 “No,” Suniel said.  “Keeper said that wasn't even an army to Iron Sky.”  

 “It was likely an expendable expedition force to test Felskein's resistance,” Keeper said.

 “So you remember things now?” Kormak said.  “That's convenient.”

 “Access to the Nexus is far easier now,” Keeper said.  “It is far closer and there is less obscurement to it.”

 “That doesn't sound good.”

 “I think it's better if we return to Port, get our things and head on,” Suniel said.

 “Head on to the Crystal Towers,” Harold said.

 “Head on to find a True Stone.  Keeper says the Lightning Stone is that direction so we're going that way.”

 “I agree with Suniel,” Bail said.  “The sooner we get the Stones, the better.”

***

 A few days later, the turtle had a platform with a tent supported by scaffolding and swarming with Suniel's motley bunch.  The people of Port stared as their entourage made its way through town: A dozen mage-acolytes, a paladin, a troubadour, three goblins, an orc and a half-orc, a dwarven monk, an elven wizard and his construct, a half-dragon and his kobold and cart, a Crystal Towers free agent and his diplomat, trailed by half-a-dozen horses.

 In spite of the snow, the recent battles in and around Port, the somber air that had pervaded since the destruction of Steamport, the severely reduced trade, and the rumors of a golem army that was about to descend from the heavens and destroy them, the town took on a relatively festive air.

People sang and danced around them and even followed them a ways out of Port, putting a smile on their faces for a moment as they headed out to face the Rising Plague that had quarantined the Crystal Towers and the looming threat of an Iron Sky invasion that might wipe out all civilization on Felskein.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, part 5


It snowed all day as the turtle made its slow progress south.  As they neared the site of the Iron Sky battle, Harold motioned for them to stop and rode on ahead, dismounting and crawling through the fresh snow as he neared the top of the hill.

 Aside from jutting wooden weapon hafts protruding from the snow like the branches of a dead forest and the irregular mounds of the corpses, it was hard to tell there had been a battle.  He crawled on a little further, scanning the skies for Gem Eyes or any other sign of Iron Sky.  There was none, but there was a dragon.  He stood back up and mounted, then rode ahead, trotting slowly around the body of the large copper.

 His horse snorted and shied away at the scent of dragon, especially as he rode to the belly side where something had torn it open and scattered its entrails across the snow.  Bloody chunks of dragon meat lay scattered in the snow and blood spattered a wide, flattened swath of snow that led to the hills to the west.  

He thought briefly of investigating on his own, but changed his mind and rode back to get the others.

 ***

 “This was an adult dragon,” Suniel said.  “I'm guessing it was killed by Iron Sky, then something else chewed on it.”

 “Harold, did you get snackish while you were scouting?” Kormak said, squatting next to the dragon's bared ribs.

 Bail stared at it and patted it on the flank.

 “Friend of yours?” Kormak said.

 “No,” Bail said, shaking his head.  “I've never-”

 A dozen creatures roared to the east, their ferocious cry only slightly muffled by the snow.

 “Everyone stay on the turtle,” Suniel yelled, sending his acolytes and followers scrambling back onto the scaffolding on the turtle's back.  Harold, Bail, Kormak, and Suniel spread out in an arc around the turtle awaiting whatever monsters might come.

 When they did come, it wasn't a they, but an it.  It came around a boulder at the base of the nearby hill, the pale blue scales of its dozen long necks gleaming.  Its massive body and long tail dragged through the snow towards them by two massive legs as a dozen heads twisted, thrashed, and roared.

 “Hydra,” Suniel said calmly, wondering where he'd heard about them as he detonated a blast of fire that flash-melted all the snow around the creature.  The hydra came on, snapping at the arrows that Harold sent into it like a dog biting at flies.  Kormak began to circle around behind it as Bail readied his massive adamantine greatsword.

 “Come beast, I'm waiting,” he shouted.

 Its heads all roared in unison and it charged Bail.

 Suniel began chanting another spell when it reached the half-dragon and all dozen heads exhaled gouts of ice and freezing air, enveloping Bail in a freezing hellstorm.

 Suniel unleashed his spell, blasting it again with fire as Harold rode around it and feathered it with arrows.  A moment later, Kormak leapt atop its back and sent vicious kicks thudding into its necks.  A minute later it lay still in the snow, heads splayed out in the disjointed, unnatural angles of death.

 Suniel joined Kormak pulling away the necks to dig out the unconscious half-dragon.

 “He alive?” Harold said, gazing down at the dead Hydra from atop his stallion.

 Kormak leaned an ear down next to Bail's mouth.  “Seems to be, though he's just about frozen and the ice cut him all over.”

 “I'm going to go scout where it came from, make sure there aren't more of them,” Harold said, turning and riding off.

 “Thanks for the help,” Kormak grumbled as he and Suniel struggled to lift the massive half-dragon.

 “Fortunately, we have plenty of help at hand,” Suniel said, turning and waving to the slowly emerging crowd atop the turtle.  “It's safe everyone.  Guntl, Shruka, everybody, come help us get him inside.”

 They were practically mobbed by helping hands lifting Bail away from him and hauling him into the open mouth of the turtle, Meepo walking along beside him holding one massive hand in his own.

 “Come on, Kormak,” Suniel said, climbing over the turtle and heading after Harold.  “Lets make sure he doesn't get himself killed fighting an actual pack of the things.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 6


Bail awoke with a groan, shivering and aching.  His vision was a silver blur and his head hurt.  He struggled to remember where he was. A boat, judging by the faint sway and tilt of the room he was in, but what was that slow, regular _thump_ sound and shudder?

"He's awake Master Au!" a young voice shouted from somewhere nearby.

A few moments later, the elf was kneeling over him, followed a minute later by the hideous orc female.

"Stop trying to move, dumb lizard," the orc said.  "You're barely alive as it is."

"What... when... how long was I?" he said, the words rasping in his throat.

 “Drink this,” the orc said, pouring something foul and chalky down his throat.  He gagged a bit and tried to stop drinking but she punched him in the gut.  He gasped in surprise, then started coughing and struggling to simultaneously drink and cough up the bits that went into his lungs.

 “Your bedside manner never ceases to impress me, Shruka” Suniel said dryly.

 “He'll listen to me next time, won't he?” she said, tapping on the cup to get the last chunks that were stuck to the bottom to fall into Bail's mouth.

 “If he lives,” Suniel said.   

 “He'll live,” Shruka said, nodding as she turned and walked away.

 Suniel took a seat on the floor next to Bail's makeshift bed of furs and blankets.  “You've been out for almost a week.  We weren't sure you were going to pull through for a while there, between being half-frozen and bleeding from a score of cuts from that ice.”

 “A week?” Bail said, trying to sit up.  There was an excited _squeal_ and he was knocked back by a flying kobold.

 “Bail!  You live!” Meepo said, arms wrapped about Bail's head.

 Bail winced and shifted the excited kobold's bear-hug to his arm.  He patted his old friend on the head.  “Takes more than a... what was that thing?”

 “I've researched it since and I believe it is called a “laernean cryo-hydra.”  The twelve-headed variety, of course.  Very nasty,” Suniel said.

 “You're telling me,” Bail said, slowly shifting himself to a sitting position.  He looked about.  “Ah, we're inside the turtle.  It's very... homey in here.”

 Rugs lay across the silver floors, tapestries lined the walls, and rods and curtains separated the big open space into makeshift rooms.  Two young acolytes were sitting on a collection of crates reading a large weather beaten tome to one side while the goblins and a couple others were dicing elsewhere.  The mouth of the turtle was open, a wooden plank running into the mouth to provide easy access to the scaffolding outside even while the turtle was moving.  A comforting silvery light that had no apparent source illuminated the whole place.

 “While you were out, we crossed most of the Freeholds,” Suniel said.  “No sight of any more Iron Sky, thankfully.  The locals didn't give us any trouble either, though we had people come from counties around in the middle of winter to watch us pass.”

 Bail finally detached Meepo from his arm.  The kobold snuggled into the furs beside him and almost immediately fell asleep.   

 “He barely slept the whole time you were out,” Suniel said with a faint smile.  “That kobold really cares about you.”

 “He's my brother,” Bail said, pulling a blanket up over Meepo.

 “Your brother?”

 “Long story.  So where are we at now?”

 Suniel began reply when Kormak jogged in, heading straight towards them.  “Ah, you're awake.  Good timing.  We're there.”

 “Where's there?” Bail said.

 “Some Crystal Towers city.  There's the biggest tower I've ever seen here attached to an even bigger bridge.  They're both the same metal as the turtle, looks like, but bigger.  As in, the tower reaches the clouds and the bridge disappears into the horizon _in two directions_!”

 “That is a big bridge,” Bail said, slowly working his way to his feet.  He wavered for a moment, then steadied himself and took a couple stiff steps.

 “Harold said it's twenty-five miles wide and three hundred long.  There's whole cities built on it.  It's what connects the Crystal Towers to the mainland,” Suniel said, placing a supporting hand on Bail's arm.

 “Oh, one more little thing about the city,” Kormak said as they walked towards the turtle's mouth.  “It's empty.  Gates closed, no one home.  Harold said that this is one of the busiest trade-cities in the Crystal Towers.  Five-thousand people or more are supposed to live here.  And they're all just... gone.”

Bail winced as they ducked out of the turtle's mouth and walked out into the brilliant snow-reflected sunlight and the amazing view that awaited them.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 7


 Harold activated the magic on the armor he'd acquired at Port and took a tentative step into the air.  He glanced around to be sure no one saw him, then flew up into the air and over the wall of Northern Twin Spire, drawing his bow as he did so.

 Though the lightly falling snow limited the range of his sight, he saw enough to get an impression of the silent city.  _Empty_.  Where were all the people?

_They are all gone, probably hunted, murdered, and risen again by the Ashen Tower,_ he thought.  _Did the Crystal Towers fall in my absence?  Will we find only bones and corpses and the walking dead?  Are we too late?_

 He floated slowly above the rooftops in the silence, growing slowly more on edge.  Here and there he caught a furtive movement out of the corner of his eyes, but when he looked in that direction he saw only still shadows.  It happened several times as he flew over the city, but he was wary enough of some Ashen Towers trap that he didn't investigate more closely.

 Then the snow abated and the dull silver of the North Spire Tower became visible, looming up into the low clouds.  He'd been atop it many times, even stood on the top level, one-thousand feet above the ground and stared down to where the base of the tower met the sheer cliff-edge of the continent where the land dropped another thousand feet or more to the Endless Sands.  He'd stood and watched the clouds lap against a window, looking for all the world as if he could simply step out and walk across the clouds as the setting sun ignited their topsides.

 He drifted towards the tower, scanning its windows for signs of anything living.  When he was less than one hundred feet away, he saw a glimpse of movement in a window and a second later, an arrow pierced his side.  He swore and knocked an arrow, but the figure was already gone.  With a gesture he flew to the wall of the tower and pressed against the warm metal of its side, taking a few quick breaths before gritting his teeth and jerking the arrow from his ribs.  He quickly wrapped himself in a bandage and drank a potion, then headed for the window the arrow had come from.
_
This is a good sign at least_, he thought as he reached the window and peered inside.  _Undead don't use bows._

 “Hello?  Is there anyone in here?” he shouted, stepping into a small store-room.  It was mostly dark, illumined only by the faint silver glow that the tower shared with the turtle.  Like the turtle too, it was warm inside the tower, though here the faint vibration of the unknown machinery that ran in the depths of the bedrock far beneath the tower could be felt.

 “My name is Free Agent Harold Trisden of the Crystal Towers,” he called, moving cautiously towards the store-room's open door.

 He was two feet from the door when a dark-haired man in a Crystal Towers Scout uniform stepped around the corner, his sword leveled at Harold's chest.  The man's face was lined with exhaustion and weariness and his eyes seemed fresh with recent grief.

 “Drop your weapon and prove you are who you say,” the man said.  “Slowly.”

 Harold nodded and dropped his bow, then slowly reached up and undid the clasp that kept his cloak fastened at the shoulder.  It fell away revealing the blue of his uniform, metals reflecting the faint silver light.  “Peace soldier, I come to help in the fight against the Ashen Towers.”

 The man's sword slowly lowered and he slumped against the wall.  The soldier's head drooped.  “Then you are too late, the Crystal Towers are doomed.”

 A chill ran down Harold's spine, replaced in a second by a flash of anger.  He slapped the man in the face.  “Come to your senses, Scout.  The Crystal Towers will never fall!  Tell me what has happened here.”

 The Scout's eyes widened in shock but he quickly came to attention and saluted.  “I'm sorry sir, I shouldn't say such things.  It's just... what I've seen this last month...”

 “Are you alone, Scout?”

 “It's Scout Harrin, sir.  And no, there are a handful of us left.  This way, I'll take you to the others.  They will be glad to see another living face.”

 Harold followed Harrin deeper into the tower, half glad to find someone still alive and half dreading the full extent of what the Scout was likely to tell him...


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 22, Part 8


Kormak stared up at the massive wooden gates to the city, wondering if their turtle would fit through, and that assuming  they figured out a way to get the doors open in the first place.  Suniel and Keeper approached and joined him staring up at the gate.

 “Sturdy doors,” Suniel said.  “Figuring out how we're going to get in?”

 “Yeah.  Too bad we don't have a giant silver ram to travel around in, that would make this problem trivial.”

 “Being in the innards of a giant mechanical walking goat might not be as pleasant as the turtle though,” Suniel said, a faint smile coming to his lips.  The wizard pulled his cloak closer about him and looked about.  “Seen Harold?”

 As if on cue, Harold rode into view from around the bend of the city wall.  He rode up and dismounted, his expression grim, a subtle new tear in the side of his cloak and uniform.

 “Where have you been for the last hour?” Suniel said.  “We've been looking for you, since this place is kind of your area of expertise.”

 “Get in a fight with the wall?” Kormak quipped, sticking his finger through the tear in the cloak.

 Harold jerked his cloak away from the dwarf.  “Things are dark as I expected.”

 Bail walked up with Meepo and gestured to the gate.  “Any idea how we're going to get in?  I could probably climb the wall.”

 Suniel gestured for silence and nodded to Harold.  “Go on.”

 “The Walking Plague struck both of the Twin Spires, then quickly spread to the Cities of the Span.  It rapidly kills anyone who it infects, then they rise again from the dead.  There was talk of closing off the Span Wall on the other side of the Span, but the small Scout detachment that's holed up in the North Spire didn't know if it happened in time.  They've been alone here for weeks with no word.”

 There was a long moment of silence as they digested the information.  “What about the city gates here, can they let us in?” Kormak said.

 Harold shook his head.  “This city was evacuated when the Plague first hit.  They left a company of Scouts here to keep outsiders from entering the city and spreading the Plague to the Freeholds and to dispatch as many of the risen dead as possible.  Unfortunately, a large and well-organized band of bandits entered the city and began looting it.  The Scout I talked to said it was a week of grim three-way-fighting, thieves versus Scouts versus the dead.

 “The bandits holed up in a warehouse after a skirmish with the Scout company.  That night, they heard screams all night from the building and they didn't see bandits again after that.  They say that incorporeal undead roam the sewers and haunt the shadows of the day and the whole city at night.  After a couple attacks that wiped out half their remaining numbers, the handful of Scouts that are still alive have pulled back leaving the city to the dead.”  Harold bowed his head and gritted his teeth.

 “I'm sorry Harold,” Suniel said, laying a comforting hand on the archer's shoulder.

 Harold brushed it off and took a step away.  “They also spoke of a large creature lurking in the shadows of the gate, waiting to attack anyone who opens it.  It doesn't matter, we're going in anyway.”

 Kormak and Bail exchanged a glance at Harold's sudden change in taking charge of the group.

 “How will we get in?” Suniel said.

 Harold dug into his pack and pulled out a grappling hook and rope.  “One step ahead of you.”

 “Think you can anchor that from down-” Kormak began.

 Harold didn't say a word, instead stepping into the air and floating up to the top of the gate.

 “That's a neat new trick,” Kormak said.  “Now he flies too.”

 Harold landed on the battlement near one of the gate towers and glanced down.

 Their was a piercing shriek and a yellow blur shot through out of the tower wall, ghostly clothing and hair trailing behind it as its insubstantial, skeletal hands reached for Harold.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part 1

<Note: I have the next week-and-a-half off from work, so my goal is to post once-a-day for the next week, before I head off to my sister's wedding.>

Kormak watched as Bail threw himself at the gate and dug his claws in, scaling it in vertical leaps while Harold flew quickly backwards away from the ghost, scrambling for his bow.  Then with a sharp word from Suniel, he and his acolytes unleashed a dozen simultaneous blasts of magic and blasted the ghost into rapidly dissipating yellow vapors.

 Harold stared, wild-eyed at the space where it had been while Bail finished scaling the door and stood on the parapet near one of the gate towers.

 “We have to cleanse this city,” Harold said, turning to look down at the party.  “I will not rest until every single undead abomination is destroyed.”

 Bail looked in at the city.  “This is a big place, cleansing it could take weeks.  Don't we have more pressing matters, like Iron Sky and gathering the True Stones?”

 Harold pointed a finger at the half-dragon.  “We are in the lands of the Crystal Towers.  As the highest ranking member of the Crystal Towers military present, I order you to help me cleanse the city.”

 Bail snorted.  “I follow only the Dragon's orders, not yours human.”

 “What, Gilderalin?” Harold said.  He looked down at Suniel.  “Why do we even have this Undercouncil spy here with us in the first place?”

 “Well, he does have somewhat of a point Harold,” Suniel said, arching his neck to look up at the two of them.  “None of us are citizens of the Crystal Towers and so, while I will follow the laws of the Crystal Towers, that does not mean we are under your command.”

 “Crystal Towers is under martial law, that means the military makes the laws.  Right now, I am the military!” Harold said, his body rigid.  “Leave your followers here where they'll be safe and come with me.  It is time to prove once and for all that you are free from the taint of the Ashen Tower, Suniel.  To redeem yourself in the eyes of the world.”

 Kormak found the archer's stiffness and tension almost comical as he floated in the air above them.  

 “I didn't realize that there was still and question about that,” Suniel said softly.  “And while I do seek redemption for what I have done, I will choose its manner, not you Harold.”

 Kormak spotted a spec of black against the gray and white of the clouds.  As he watched, it grew quickly larger.

 “Gem Eye incoming!” he shouted, pointing up.

 The others reached for weapons, but Harold, bow still in-hand, glanced up and fired in one motion.  “There is no alternative,” he said.  “We _will_ cleanse the city.”

 His arrow _clanged_ into the Gem Eye two hundred feet above them and the Gem Eye lurched and fell even faster, disintegrating into nothing but flakes of rust before it even hit the ground.   

 “Did you just see that?” Bail said, pointing at the sky.  “Iron Sky is here too, near your precious Crystal Towers.  It is the real threat.  We need to get this gate open and get the turtle on the way to the Crystal Towers.”

 “The True Stone of Lightning is in the Crystal Towers,” Keeper said, nodding.  “I can sense it more finely and there is no where else it could be located from here.”

 “Suniel's minions will have to stay here then,” Harold said, looking at Bail and pointing down at the turtle.  “That ghost flew through the wall.  What chance do you think they have if, while we are out fighting in the city, another one comes through the wall of the turtle to them.”

 “Well, _I_ thought they did pretty well a minute ago,” Kormak said.  “Better than I did here sitting on my hands.”

 “They are not under your authority, Harold,” Suniel said.

 “If they enter the city, they'll be killed too, just like everyone else who stayed in this city!” Harold said, nearly shouting.  “You want them to die too?  I won't have them dying here while I am in charge.  Can't you see, the Ashen Towers has to be stopped before Thessalock destroys everything!  Crystal Towers is Felskein's only hope. Why can't you see that?”

 Suniel and Harold stared at each other for a tense moment, Harold's chest heaving and face flushed, Suniel almost totally still.  Finally Suniel looked away.  “Then perhaps we should part ways.  We know where one or two other True Stones are, we can find those while you deal with the situation here.”

 “Sounds like a plan,” Bail said, jumping off the wall, hooking his claws into the wood of the door, sliding down, and casually walking towards the turtle's mouth.  The company was suddenly in motion, preparing to ready the turtle for travel.  Kormak scrambled up the scaffolding and stared up at Harold.

 There was a crazed look in Harold's eyes, his look a mix of anger and desperation and anguish as he looked between them and his fallen city.  Harold's jaw clenched and Kormak's eyes widened as the archer raised his bow and drew an arrow, the clenched-white of his knuckles clearly visible even with the distance between them.

_Now_ this _should be good_, Kormak thought, finding a comfortable place on the scaffolding to watch what was about to unfold.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part _2_

<Of course, after I say I'm going to try to post every day, I get a two-day job that keeps me from posting for a day.  Figures.>

 The arrow passed just over Bail and Suniel's heads.  

Suniel stared the feathered shaft sticking out the snow bank in front of them in disbelief, then motioned for the turtle to stop and turned around.  Bail stared at the arrow with a furrowed brow, then turned as well.

 Harold now stood atop the wall, bow in hand and staring down at them at the half-turned turtle came to a halt.

 “You can't go,” Harold said, gesturing at the city behind him with his bow, his voice pleading.  “If you go, the Ashen Towers wins here.  If you go, you'll be doing the work of Thessalock.  We have to cleanse the city.  The Crystal Towers won't fall.  It can't.”

 “Why did you shoot at us?” Bail said, his brow furrowed and eyes hard.  He turned to Suniel.  “Why did he shoot at us?”

 "Is this what all our travels and battles together come down to?” Suniel said.

 “It was just a warning shot,” Harold said.

 “_Just_ a warning shot?” Suniel said.  “What will it be next time?”

 “That human fired an arrow at me,” Bail said, reaching for his greatsword.

 Suniel placed a restraining hand on the half-dragon's arm and raised the other palm to Harold.  “Harold, let's discuss this in a calm manner.  Put your weapon away and come down here.”

 “Your followers will have to stay here or they'll be killed when we cleanse the city,” Harold said, floating out over the turtle.

 Bail rose to his imposing full height, towering over Suniel.  “We're not doing anything you say, human.  No one attacks Bail and-”

 “Calm down, Bail, you're not helping the situation,” Suniel said, stepping in front of the half-dragon.  “Harold, just come down here.”

 Harold floated lower slowly, pointing a finger at Bail.  “You're just a spy for the Undercouncil anyway, maybe if I had shot you I'd be doing us all a favor.  Suniel, how do we even know we can trust him?”

 “I've done nothing as dishonorable as you, human,” Bail said, stepping forward despite Suniel's hand on his massive chest.  “Firing on your comrades-in-arms while their backs were turned?  Maybe you did try to shoot me and just can't-”

 “Both of you, calm down, now!” Suniel said.  He thought he heard Kormak chuckling from somewhere atop the turtle.  “Harold, put away your bow. Please.”

 Harold floated down and landed in front of the gates, pointing at Bail.  “I'll do no such thing while this turncoat is amongst us.  The second I do-”

 Bail roared and hurled Suniel bodily aside, his greatsword drawn in half-a-step.  By the time Suniel got back up, Bail had crossed the ground to the archer and sundered his bow.  In response, Harold flew straight up, drawing another far simpler bow from his quiver and firing.

 Bail roared again in rage as an arrow found its mark and embedded in his shoulder.  Casting his sword aside, he hurled himself against the wall, claws digging into the very stone as he scaled it.  Arrows whistled around him and a few connected as he climbed. Bail reached the top of the wall before Harold did and launched himself off of it, claws glistening as he hurtled towards the archer.

 They slammed together in mid-air, twisting and shaking.  Then there was a tearing sound as Harold's cloak tore free and Bail plummeted to the ground.  He hit hard, but was immediately on his feet as more arrows rained down on him, snatching up his sword and sprinting into the turtle's open mouth past a stunned Ambassador Roderic and a dumbfounded trio of goblins.

 The whole time Suniel stood with the words to a spell half-formed on his lips, debating whether or not to strike Harold with the same spell he had used on Danovin and end the madness.

 “Come and fight me like a dragon!” Bail bellowed from inside the turtle.  “Face me on the ground, you honorless wretch!”

 Harold shifted his uniform and stared hard down at his broken bow, lying in the snow beneath him.  “The Magisters themselves gave me that bow.  Why would he destroy it?”

 “Harold, I think it's best if you go elsewhere for a while,” Suniel said coldly.  “There have been things done here than cannot be undone, but I think it best if we give it time to cool down for the sake of our mission.”

 Harold stared back at him.  “Our mission to cleanse the city and save the Crystal Towers?”

 Suniel just stared back at him.  “Go now,” Suniel said, forcing his voice to be soft.  “Just go for a time.”

 A moment later, Harold complied.  Suniel watched as the archer flew around a bend in the wall, then carefully approached the mouth of the turtle.
_
Well, that was a mess._ _Journey a thousand miles to reach the Crystal Towers only to fight amongst ourselves once we finally reach it,_ he thought.  He rapped on the metal side of the turtle as he neared the turtle's head.

 “Bail?  It's Suniel.  I'm coming in, so don't attack, ok?”

 His only reply was a low growl.

 He sighed, held his hands open and high and slowly stepped into the turtle's mouth, bracing himself for the potential assault of a berserk, heavily armed and heavily wounded half-dragon.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part 3

 Kormak finished writing, replaced his tattoo, then ducked out of his small tent, petted Dog on the head, and looked about just in time to see Suniel and Keeper disappear into the evening's heavy snowfall.  He jogged after them, catching up a minute later.

 “Bail ok?” he said, falling in between Keeper and Suniel.  “He looked like an ambulatory pincushion last I saw him.”

 “He's tough.  Harold him with six arrows, but Shruka says he'll be fine,” Suniel said.  “He's still a bit angry though.”

 “I'll bet.  If you shot me with just _one_ arrow, I'd be pretty pissed,” Kormak said.  “So, we off on a diplomatic mission?”

 “Yes.  I calmed Bail down a little bit so he probably won't attack Harold on-sight at least.  Now we're off to find Harold.”

 “Should we be searching the ground or the sky?” Kormak said, placing his hand over his eyes and squinting up into the snow.  “He learned how to fly, you know.”

 “That particular dweomer of his armor will have been exhausted by now,” Keeper said.  “Search the ground.”

 Kormak glanced at the construct to see if there was some trace of humor there or if Keeper was being literal.  As usual, he couldn't tell.

 “Who goes there?” a familiar voice called from the rapidly darkening white-out.

 “Harold?  It's Suniel, Keeper, and Kormak,” Suniel said, stopping and peering into the snow.

 Harold walked into sight, stopped, and crossed his arms.  “What?  Come to tell me you're leaving?”

 “We were discussing our plan to enter the city and were seeking your input,” Suniel said.

 “You're not planning on taking your band of misfits along are you?” Harold said.  “It'll be a slaughter if one of those things gets to them.”

 “Bail will live, by the way,” Kormak said, widening his eyes with mock concern and clasping his hands.  “It was touch and go for a while, but we all prayed for him and he's going to make it!”

 “Why are you even with us, dwarf?” Harold said, staring flatly down at him.

 “We were wondering the same thing, human,” Kormak replied, grinning up at Harold.  “We decided it was because you're just so damn charming.”

 “It would be helpful if you talked with Bail,” Suniel said, pulling his cloak tighter as a sudden gust cut into them and sent the snow whipping into their eyes.

 “The traitor?  Why, he attacked me first!” Harold said.

 “He says the same of you, though with a few more expletives,” Kormak said.

 “I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you are asking.”

 Suniel sighed.  “Just talk with him, see if you can patch things up with him enough that we can forestall something like this happening again.”

 “If you had all just listened to me, it never would have happened in the first place,” Harold said.

 Kormak was about to say something, but Keeper stepped on his foot and applied pressure.

“Your thingy is standing on my foot Suniel,” Kormak said, trying to gauge whether Suniel had signaled Keeper or if the construct was acting on its own volition.

 “Will you just talk with him?” Suniel said.

 “He's heavy,” Kormak said, pressing his side against Keeper's hip in an attempt to dislodge him.

 “Fine,” Harold said.  “If it will get us moving onward.  We've wasted a whole day here.”

 “Off!  Hey, gear-brains, move your metallic appendage or I'll break it off and make it into a stove!” Kormak said, straining to pull his foot free from Keeper's immobile bulk.  “Suniel, call off your construct!”

 “I hear a noise, Master Au,” Keeper said, cocking his head sideways as if to listen.  “Is it the wind?”

 Kormak was sure he saw a small smile flit across the wizard's face before he hid it.  “Come on, Keeper, lets get back to the turtle before we freeze to death.

 Keeper nodded and suddenly lifted his foot, sending Kormak sprawling headfirst into the snow.  Grumbling, he stood up and brushed himself off, pursing his lips and squinting at Keeper as he trudged along behind Harold.

_If only poison would work on it,_ he thought.  _I liked it better before it thought it had a sense of humor._


----------



## Crazy Eights

Keeper is slowly, but surely, becoming one of my favorite characters.  All the more reason to curse his sudden but inevitable betrayal.  If it ever comes to that.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part 4

 “We need to cleanse the city,” Harold said, standing out in the snow and staring in at Bail through the turtle's mouth.

 “You have said so before human,” Bail said, crossing his massive arms across his bandaged chest.  Bail was judging the distance between himself and Harold, wondering if he could get past Suniel and Keeper in time to catch the human before he flew away again.  “Why should I do such a thing for you?”

 “It's not for me, it's for the Crystal Towers,” Harold said.  “And what is done for the Crystal Towers is done for the good of all of Felskein.”

 “Like shooting your companions?” Bail said, a low growl rising in the back of his throat.

 “You destroyed the bow given to me by-”

 “You fired an arrow at me while my back was-”

 “Only because-”

 “Stop this, both of you!” Suniel said, stepping directly between Bail and Harold.  “This is getting us no where.  Harold, do you apologize to Bail?”

 “Apologize? He attacked me first!” Harold said.  Bail took a step forward, but Keeper stepped in front of him.  Bail stared into the construct's flickering eyes, half-considering pulling the thing apart for having the impudence to block his path.

 “I do think we should just put this whole business behind us,” Harold said.  “If we're going to push on to the Crystal Towers, we need to be united, as Suniel says.”

 “You say this now after what has happened?” Bail said, gesturing to his still-bloody bandages.

 Harold held out the scraps of his cloak and fingered a rip in his uniform.  “You would have done as much if I'd let you catch me.  Let's just forget about it.”

 Suniel and Keeper stepped out of the way and Suniel nodded to Bail.  “There, Harold just apologized, now lets-” Suniel said.

 “I did not.  I won't apologize unless he does first,” Harold said.

"Me?" Bail snorted.  “I was merely defending myself and my companions from _you_.”

 “Can we at least maintain peace between us as companions?” Suniel said.  “For the good of our mission?”

 “To save the Crystal Towers,” Harold said.

 “To find the True Stones,” Bail countered, glaring at the archer.

 “Will you maintain the peace?” Suniel repeated.

 “If it is for the good of the Crystal Towers, then I will do it,” Harold said.

 “I will do it, but with one caveat,” Bail said, pointing a clawed finger at Harold.  “Once this is over or if I catch you alone, I will finish this – and you.”

 Suniel winced and started to speak, but Bail cast a final dark look at Harold and walked away, deeper into the Turtle.

 “Very diplomatic,” Kormak said, trotting up to join him.  “That whole 'I'll finish you' bit aught to put the whole matter to-”

 “Shut up, dwarf,” Bail said and strode away.  He found the nook amongst some supply crates that he and Meepo had set aside as their territory and nodded to the kobold.

Meepo jumped up and grabbed Bail's horde bag.  He up-ended it on the floor of the turtle and the two of them spread it around to make a bed.  After a quick check of the area to make sure no one was eying his treasure, Bail curled up and lay down to sleep with Meepo curled in his own small horde of coppers beside him.

 ***

 Suniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Harold walked off into the storm.  “That wasn't exactly what I was hoping for,” he said, half to himself, half to Keeper.  “I wonder how much time we have before Iron Sky invades with all its strength.”

 Keeper closed his eyes.  

“The Nexus nears,” Keeper said, almost at a whisper.  “Weeks, maybe months.”

 “I feared as much,” Suniel said.  _Weeks..._

He stared out into the snow and felt the cold weight of what they faced settle upon him.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part 5

 Harold and Keeper turned the gate wheel until the heavy wooden gates swung open.  As soon as they had it open enough for the turtle to fit through, Harold grabbed his bow and looked out the window.

 Suniel stood beside  him, watching the shadows around the gate for the creature the Scout had told him was lurking nearby while Bail and Kormak watched from below, near the turtle.  Light snow continued to fall as they stood but there was no sign of movement anywhere in the city.

They waited a few minutes longer and still nothing.

“Maybe it decided it's too cold to come murder us,” Kormak called up.

“Enough of this waiting,” Bail said.  “If we are going to do this, let's get going.”

 “I think we should wait a bit longer,” Harold said.  “We have good position from up here to see.”

 Suniel shook his head.  “Bail is impatient and things are strained enough as it is.”

 Keeper pulled the trap door that led lower into the tower while Harold strained his eyes to see anything in the snow and shadows of North Spire.

 “Come Harold,” Suniel said as he followed Keeper down the ladder.

 Harold looked out into the city one last time then followed.

 ***

 Kormak was whistling and waving jauntily to Keeper as the construct walked out of the ground floor of the gate tower, when something massive hit him and sent him flying into the stone wall.  He kicked his feet up instinctively as a huge gray-skinned form reached for him, its eyes glowing a pale white, tiny figures writhing within its exposed ribcage.

 His foot slammed into its jaw, face, and hand again and again as its jaw distended as if to swallow him whole.

 Arrows slammed into it and it lurched to the side as an enormous adamantine greatsword took off one of its legs.  Then a blast of fire detonated against its forehead, blasting it apart down to the gaping ribs.  The creatures inside it writhed as they burned and let out chilling wails, clinging to the ribs like prison bars as the things carcass slowly toppled over.

 Bail stepped around it, pulled Kormak to his feet and gave him a quick look over.  “You alright, dwarf?”

 “Aside from almost being lunch, I'm fine,” Kormak said, patting himself down to make sure he was intact.  “Yup, seem to still have everything.”

They walked around the smoldering corpse and joined Suniel, Keeper, and Harold.

 “Devourer,” Suniel said, nodding to the body.

 “This thing is why I said we should leave your followers behind, Suniel,” Harold said, gesturing at it.  “The Scout said there are other things as well that will pass right through that hut.”

 “Let's not start this again now, Harold,” Suniel said, walking back towards the turtle.  “Lets just get this thing moving and get it to the Spire.”

 Harold jogged outside the gate and mounted up on his stallion while Kormak joined the others as they climbed atop the turtle-shell-scaffolding.  “Turtle, I command thee, advance into the city!” Kormak called with a dramatic pose and gesture into North Spire.

 Keeper imitated his pose almost exactly for a moment, then returned to his usual statue-stillness.  _Was that another attempt at humor? _ Kormak thought.   

 He glanced at Suniel, but the elf didn't seem to have even noticed as he stared out into the silent town.  Bail just shook his head.

 A moment later, Harold rode past the turtle and turned, a new cloak he'd dredged up from somewhere blowing behind him.  “Follow me, I'll lead you to the Spire,” he shouted up to them.

 “Very dramatic, but we can see it from here,” Kormak said, pointing ahead to the faint outline of the Spire visible even through the haze of snow.

 “This way,” Harold said, as though Kormak hadn't even spoken.  The archer turned his mount and trotted ahead through the snow.

 Kormak glanced up at Bail. “You going to let Harold boss you around like that?”

 Bail growled and squinted after the archer, but didn't do anything else.  Suniel glared at Kormak.

 “What?  Just asking,” Kormak said, having a seat and dangling his legs off the edge of the platform and motioning Dog over.  “I'm going to let him boss _me_ around. Let him ride ahead and stir up the nasty ambushes of walking dead.  He can have it.”

 “Let's hope they walk,” Suniel said softly. “There are alternatives that are far worse.”

 They were silent after that as the turtle pushed its way through the still, snow shrouded streets.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part 6

 Harold's stallion reared back and whinnied.   

 “Calm boy,” Harold said, leaning forward to stay on the saddle and calming his mount down.  He looked around quickly as the stallion stamped around in a circle, snorting, ears flattened back.

 Then he saw movement, a pack of hunched humanoids closing in on the turtle from behind in a gangly four-limbed gait.

 “Ghouls, behind you,” he shouted, spurring his horse on.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more converging from the alleyways around them.  He pulled out his bow and began firing, guiding his horse with his knees.

As he fired, dropping one ghoul that was vaulting up the scaffolding and staggering another that bounded through the snowbanks, he saw another insubstantial figure – nearly identical to the one that had attacked him atop the tower – pass through the hut at the top of the turtle.

 “Suniel, inside,” he shouted.  Suniel blasted a ghoul away and turned towards the hut just as there was a piercing scream from inside and one of Suniel's followers staggered out the door, clutching his ears, and collapsed on the platform.

 Harold galloped to the Turtle and scrambled onto the scaffolding, already sprinting as he feet hit the planking.  A ghoul ran after him and was almost upon him when Keeper dropped down from above, sword of light and a shield of lightning stopping the ghoul in its tracks.

 Harold reached the door to the hut not long after Suniel did and looked inside to see what Harold had feared.  Acolytes littered the ground, some writhing, others lying still with blood dribbling from their eyes and ears.  Suniel's paladin stood at the back of the hut, eyes glazed over and glowing a pale yellow.

 “He's possessed, we have to take him,” Harold said, an arrow to the string and bow leveled in a heartbeat.  The paladin turned towards them and took an awkward step, hand reaching for the sword at his side.

 Suniel put a hand on Harold's arm and made a quick chant and gesture.  In mid-step, the paladin's muscles seized and he groaned as he lost his balance and toppled over.  Suniel and Harold knelt over the man's twitching form as Kormak and Keeper battled at the doorway.

 “Who are you?” Suniel said, staring down into the inhuman gaze that looked out of the paladin's eyes.

 “Free ussss,” the paladin said, speaking though his mouth was locked open and trembling.

 “Who are you?” Suniel repeated.

 “We guard the gate.  They come!  The plaguebringer walks amongst the people!”

 “What is the plaguebringer?  Were you a guard when you were alive?” Harold said.

 “We failed!  It was us that let it in, that hunched thing, its shape shifting as we watched.  We couldn't stop it, lying dying as it passed, yellow slime marking its steps.”

 “The thing that killed you is what Thessalock used to bring the Rising Plague into the Crystal Towers?” Harold said.

 The paladin _hissed_.  Outside, Kormak cursed and hurled a ghoul into the outer wall of the hut while Keeper's sword crackled as it made contact.

 “Speak guardsman!  If there is any part of you that still remembers your life and loyalty to the Crystal Towers, tell us so we might stop it!” Harold said, shaking the paladin.

 “There is no stopping it!  The plague will spread.  Oh, kill the plaguebringer, do what we failed to do so we might rest!  Don't let our torment go on.”

 “Release this man of mine,” Suniel said softly.  “We will do what we can to let your spirit rest.”

 “He is ours!  We must have him, they will all pay, the living did this to us!”  The paladin began to emit a low wail though his mouth still did not move.

 “There is good yet left in your soul, ghost,” Suniel said, his voice barely audible over the ghost's keening.  “I can hear it in you yet.  Return to your haunt and let this man be free so that we can find a way to set your soul to rest.”

 “Free us.  Free usssss...” the voice slowly faded as did the otherworldly light in the paladin's eyes.  Suniel passed his hand over the paladin and the man's body went limp.

 Harold turned and readied his bow to help with the fight outside, but the fighting seemed to be over.  As he watched, Keeper's sword and shield vanished into motes of light and crackling sparks.

 When he turned back, Suniel was helping his man up.  “It's alright Theran,” Suniel said.

 “What happened?” the paladin said, shaking his head.  “I'm sore all over.”

 “What happened is exactly what I warned about,” Harold said, gesturing to the fallen forms that littered the floor of the hut.  “I told you so, I said-”

Suniel cut him off with a gesture.  “Not now Harold.  Kormak, get Shruka and the others from inside the turtle.  There may be time for my young students.  Hurry!”

 Harold shook his head and walked outside, ignoring Keeper's lightning-touched glance as he passed the construct and went to tend to his mount.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 23, Part 7

 The turtle came to a stop outside the shining silver metal of the Spire and, though the snow had stopped falling again, a heavy wind quickly began to blow drifts up to the sides of its shell. The huge metal doors of the tower slowly swung inwards and a pair of weary-looking Crystal Towers soldiers waved them in.

 “Everyone, get everything inside the tower, quickly!” Suniel shouted, glancing back at the city.  There was no sign of more ghouls or ghosts, but he didn't want to wait for any more to show up.

 “Looks like everyone will live,” Shruka said, joining Suniel and Keeper on the platform as the others began unloading supplies.  “It'll be a couple of days before they're totally well, but we won't have to carry them inside at least.”

 “Thank you Shruka,” Suniel said.   He looked up at the group trickling into the Crystal Towers.  “Keeper, help them unload everything.”

 Keeper headed down the ramp without a word and joined the others.

 “Let's just hope more ghouls don't show up right now while we're dribbling out of the turtle's mouth,” Kormak said, walking up beside Suniel, Dog in tow.

 “That's what I was just thinking.  We were fortunate that no one was killed the first time,” Suniel said.  “That said, let's go help.”

 “But don't we need someone on watch, to warn everyone just in case they show up?” Kormak said plaintively.

 Suniel pointed up to where Harold flew overhead, bow in hand and eyes alert.

 “Nice try Kormak, let's go.”

 ***

 “What's to stop them from coming through the walls?” Kormak said, rapping on the slightly-warm metal of the Spire's outer wall.

 “They can't come through it,” one of the Crystal Towers Scouts said as they huddled around a hot pot of stew.  “Something about silversteel stops them.  If I'm not mistaken, they shouldn't be able to pass through your big turtle out their either.”

 Kormak exchanged a glance with Suniel.  “Gosh, that would have been swell to know.  You know, before we put most of Suniel's followers on the hut _on_ _top of_ the turtle.” Kormak said.

 “How would you suggest we go about crossing the Span?” Bail said, leaning in to scoop another ladle-full of the thick stew.

 “How many is that for you?” Kormak said, pointing at Bail's bowl.

 “I'm twice the size you are,” Bail said.

 “That doesn't mean you get to eat three times as much.”

 “Meepo had a little bit too.”

 The Scout shook his head.  “I wouldn't suggest crossing the Span at all.  As far as we know, the whole of the Crystal Towers has been struck down by the Rising Plague.  Could be we're the only ones left.”

 “Impossible,” Harold said.  “The Magisters would never let that happen.”

 “Say what you will, Free Agent Trisden,” the Scout said.  “But I've seen out onto the Span on a clearer day and seen the cities spilling over with the dead.  And once, near dark, I saw something huge and shadowy and terrible flying over it.  I don't know what it was but it struck fear into my heart just catching a glimpse.”

 “Then there's no way across?” Bail said, glancing amongst the group huddled around the small fire.  “Is this the end of our journey to the Crystal Towers?”

 “No,” Keeper said from the shadows where he stood, so still that Kormak had forgotten he was there.  “There is another way, beneath the Span.”

 “And how do you know this – wait, don't tell me,” Kormak said.  “The Nexus?”

 “Yes, it is very close now, and closer every day.  Very soon now...”

They all looked at Keeper, unease visible on every face as Keeper stared up as though gazing at the sky, arms raised as though in rapture.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 1

 There was a faint, constant thrum as they walked the labyrinthine passageways beneath the Spire.  The silver walls were even warmer down here and when Bail rested a hand on a wall he could feel it pulsing in time to the thrum.  Keeper walked unerringly, even when confronted with many-branching tunnels, he picked one without pause.  Bail hoped the Iron Sky construct knew where it was going, otherwise they might be lost down here forever.

 After a dozen more twists, turns, and narrow stairwells running down, Bail finally had to say something.  “Where are we going?  We must be hundreds of feet beneath the Spire by now.”

 Keeper nodded without slowing.  “Nearly three hundred now, we are almost there.”

 “Almost where?” Kormak said.  “Did I miss the part where you told us where we are going?”

 “Keeper said there's another way across the Span, we're finding it,” Suniel said.

 “If he means walking across the Endless Sands, I'm out,” Kormak said.

 “Here,” Keeper said, putting his hand on what looked at first like a featureless wall.  It slid open silently and they were blasted with freezing wind.  Bail barely felt it.

 Bail peered out at a ten-foot wide stone ledge that ran along the cliff-face.  The cliff continued hundreds of feet down to the drifting sand and snow of the Endless Sands, the freezing winds seeming even colder in the dark of the Span's deep shadows.

 Keeper walked out again and they followed him out.  “A little ways further this way,” Keeper said.

 “A little ways further to what?” Kormak said, looking around as he walked.  “I'm not seeing anything except rock, sand, and snow.”

 “To this,” Keeper said.

 They stopped at a small alcove, recessed just enough that it couldn't be seen on approach.  In the alcove, the rock gave way to a wall of silversteel and, in the center, a small circular depression.  Keeper put a palm to his forehead and bowed his head.  A second later there was a faint mechanical grinding and a _click_ and when he pulled away his hand, one of the Seeking Stones sat in his palm.

 He put it in the small depression in the wall and silver energy traced across the metal.  The panel slid away to reveal a shimmering silvered dome.

“Just like the one on the Landspear Lift,” Suniel said.  “I wonder if...”

 The elf walked through the seemingly liquid-metal dome and disappeared.  Bail took a step back involuntarily.  “What manner of defense is this, he's-”

Suniel reappeared a second later.  “It's some sort of platform, exactly like the Landspear.  I don't now where it would go though since...”

 As he spoke, there was a faint thrum and a silver light shone above them.  Bail looked up and saw the whole underside of the Span lighting up with traceries of silver energy.

 “All that from that one little stone?” Bail said.

 “I think it might be lighting up the _entire_ underside of the Span,” Suniel said.  He glanced at Harold.  “How big is the Span again?”

 “It's twenty-five miles wide and almost three-hundred miles long,” Harold said, squinting up at it.

 The whole world seemed to have taken on a silver tint as the energy that traced the whole underside of the Span lit up the horizons to the south and west.

 “Keeper, can you get that stone back?” Suniel said.

 Keeper nodded and vanished into the bubble.  There was another thrum and the silver light faded almost instantly.  Keeper walked out of the bubble as it dissolved around him and the panel slid back into place behind him.

“Well, I guess we know how we're getting to the Crystal Towers now,” Kormak said.  “How big was the lift?”

 “Enough for maybe half-a-dozen of us.  Especially since we have no idea how long it will take to get to the other side.  Remember it took two days to get to the top of the Landspear,” Suniel said.

 “Well, let's head back and get ready then,” Harold said.  “There's no time to waste.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 2

 They stared out at the city as the empty turtle made its slow way back and forth around the front of the tower, packing down the deep snow outside in the shining white light of Suniel's magics.

 “So what's the plan again?” Kormak said, staring out the window at the turtle and pulling his cloak tighter.  “I'd rather be in bed.”

 Bail pointed to the next window down where Harold and Suniel stood.  “Harold thinks the dead will just come up to the tower and let us kill them.”

 “Well, the Scout said the dumb ones would just wander out, but I'm guessing all of those are dead by now.  Think there are any smart ones?”

 “Dead now? They were dead before.  I think there are cunning ones.  Take those ghouls in the town.  While you were up fighting on the platform, I was out alone on the street.  They were circling around, lunging in and out to draw my attacks so others could go for my back.  And the ghost, remember?”  Bail pointed to Harold and Suniel again.  “They were interrogating it so it had to known something.”

 “I guess.”  Kormak put his hand against the warm wall of the tower just as a faint pulse of vibration shook it.  “I wonder what that was?”

 Bail glanced over at him.  “What?”

 He looked at the wall, glowing faintly with its own ambient silver light.  “That vibration.  You can feel it under you boots all the time, well, you could if you wore boots that is.  And I just felt it in the wall.”

 He glanced up to see Keeper standing next to him, staring past him as if looking at something far in the distance.  “It is the Machinery of the Continent, deep below the tower.  It constantly runs far beneath us, in the deepest bedrock of what you call Felskein, waiting for the Children of the Elarim to give it purpose again.”

 Bail and Kormak stared at him, but he never even looked at them.  A moment later he walked to Suniel and stood at his side.

 “Never know what that thing is going to say,” Kormak said.  “What do you suppose that meant?”

 Bail looked as though he were about to say something, but just then Harold walked over.  “We're not waiting any longer, time to make them come to us.”

 Kormak quirked an eyebrow at him.  “How are we planning on doing that?”

 “We're going to give them something they might want to go for.”

 “You mean bait?” Bail said.  “Who's going to do that?”

 “I am.”

 ***

 Harold's feet touched the snow and he immediately sent three globes of light swirling out in all directions.  The night snow cast strange shadows in the unnaturally bright light of Suniel's magics.

 For a long moment he scanned the empty city looking for a sign of movement, but aside from the moving shadows cast by his spheres of light, there was nothing.  He walked slowly towards the edge of Suniel's lights, sending his own drifting ahead into the darkness.

 For several minutes he stood, waiting for anything to happen.  When nothing did, he paced the whole perimeter of the light, every muscle and nerve tensed.  Just when he was about to give up, he felt a sudden icy grip about his ankle and the ice seemed to freeze in the veins of his leg.  

He looked down to see an insubstantial shadowy hand clutching him and leapt back, nearly stumbling as the rest of the shadow rose from the cobblestones, the space where its eyes should have been glowing a malevolent red.

 He raised his bow and fired an arrow right between its eyes.  It passed through harmlessly and shattered on the cobblestones behind the shadow.  Harold cursed, turned, and ran.  _Damn Bail for destroying the Magister's bow_, he thought as he ran.  At the base of the tower shouted and they dropped the rope again.  He grabbed it and turned to see the shadow right behind him.

 He reached for his sword as its spectral arms reached for him, but there was a flash from above him and four bolts of energy blasted through the shadow.  It broke apart as it reached him, the shadowy substance of it dissolving into the night.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 3

<Some day I'll go back and do a second edit of my posts.  I used to just post-and-forget, then go back a few days later and maybe tidy it up.  Now I go through and do a quick skim-over edit right before I post it.  It's not perfect.  I apologize if any of my errors made the reading confusing or difficult at any point.  I went through and edited the whole first page of this thread to fix all the little errors and fix some awkward phrases, but when I go back and try to edit it all I realize how much of it is here.  By the time I finish this thing it might be novel-length!  Then I can print it out and put it in a binder with the novel I wrote in college that's sitting under my bed gathering dust.  If anyone thinks writing a novel is hard, try getting one published...  I gave up at the query letter.>

After most of a day inside the bubble, Suniel was about at his wits end.  Between Harold's endless pacing and dark moods, Bail's blatant hostility towards the archer, and Kormak making smart remarks about everything and flaring the two's animosity up even more, Harold wished they were all like Keeper.  The construct didn't even watch their drama, staring off through the bubble as though he was watching something off in the distance.  Ambassador Roderic hadn't said a word since the bubble closed over them and the lift had started to move.

“What is it Keeper?” he finally said as it began to get dark – at least, the level of the ambient silver light dropped for evening as it had during their nights on the Landspear lift.

 “The Nexus.”

 “Oh.”  He thought about it for a minute.  “What is it like?”

 “It's like being alive,” Keeper said, his flickering eyes meeting Suniel's.  It might have been his imagination, but Suniel thought he might have seen a spark of something else in them for the first time.  It was like looking at a person and not a machine.  “At least, I what I have imagined what living must feel like.”

 That took Suniel aback.  _Does he spend those long hours watching and listening to us trying to imagine what it is to live, to feel?  Can a construct of living metal feel _longing?

 “There is a different energy that flows this close to the Nexus.  Like something massive and intelligent is waiting for me, so close I can feel it.  I think for the first time I understand the look that comes over you when you speak of things like 'home' and 'family.'”

 “Are you going to rejoin them when they come?” Suniel said, feeling true empathy with Keeper for the first time even as a feeling of alarm tensed in his shoulders and gut.  “Return to your family?”

 Keeper shook his head and placed a hand on Suniel's shoulder.  It was warm and the grip was light.  “You are my Master.  I will follow you until my destruction... whenever it happens again that is.”

 Suniel he thought he might have seen a smile quirk the corner of Keeper's mouth for a moment.  He nodded to Keeper and smiled back, shifting Keeper's hand from his shoulder and he clasped the construct by the wrist as elves did among friends.  Keeper glanced down for a moment, then looked back at Suniel and grabbed Suniel's wrist as well.

 “Touching... really,” Kormak said from where he sat next to the small tent he'd erected on the Span lift.  “I think I'm about to cry.”

 Suniel rolled his eyes and let go, then sat down next to the dwarf.  “Fine Mr. Dwarf, what's your story?  If you're not too choked up to talk about it that is.”

 “My story?” Kormak said, quirking up an eyebrow.  “Well, I was found, by some monks,  unconscious in a field.  I had no memory so they took me in and put a magic stone inside me that awoke me.”

Suniel squinted at the straight-faced, wide-eyed Dwarf trying to decide if he was telling the truth for once.

 “Then we went on a magical journey to the shining Quartz Keep, for I had a feeling that maybe my family was there and I heard them calling to me from just out of-”

 Suniel shook his head as he stood up.

 “Wait, don't you want do your elven friendship grabiness with me too?” Kormak said, standing up with Suniel, his hideous grin widening.  Suniel bumped Harold as he walked away from the dwarf and Harold glared at him.  Bail glared at Harold.  Ambassador Roderic simply sat quietly.

_Let's hope this lift gets there soon,_ Suniel thought.  _Before we kill each other or jump off_.

 ***

 The moment the bubble was down, Harold activated the enchantment on his armor and flew straight up towards the Span.  Black clouds churned in the sky overhead and the chill, biting wind carried a foul stench like a ten thousand rotting corpses.  He reached the edge of the Span and flew upwards.  A flock of small birds flew past in a blur, but he thought he saw rotting flesh and the smell they left in their wake confirmed it.  _What was tha... _he thought, then he flew over edge of the Span and higher still.

 Where the Span reached the Crystal Towers mainland, the Spire stood rising into the sky – as it always had – and the 25 mile long, hundred-foot-tall Span Wall that had been built centuries ago to protect the mainland still stood.   

 But upon the Span, stretching back as far as he could see, was a seemingly endless mass of the dead, pressing ever forwards towards the Span Wall like a rotting tide of flesh.  Where they reached the Wall, the Crystal Towers defenders upon the Wall rained down arrows, rocks, spears, and magic, slaying the dead by the thousands. The air was thick with the reanimated corpses of all manner of flying  creatures, diving in to harry the Crystal Towers soldiers that somehow  still stood to resist. So numerous were the dead their corpses made a ramp the reached almost half-way up the Span Wall.  

 Harold stared in terrible awe, the faint surge of hope and pride he'd felt upon seeing that the Crystal Towers still stood smothered by the endless doom that filled the Span and threw itself mindlessly at the Crystal Tower's defenses.  _There is no hope for the Crystal Towers in the face of the Ashen Tower's might, _he thought, seeing the moaning press of dead stretch further into the horizon the further upwards he flew.

_We cannot win against this... the Crystal Towers will fall!

---

__Here ends Act II of the Rise of Felskein.  The party has finally completed their long journey to reach the Crystal Towers and finds it on the brink of being overrun by an army of the dead forged by the Ashen Tower's dark necromancy.  But looming larger the even black storm that engulfs the Crystal Towers is the immanent Iron Sky invasion that Keeper speaks of and that they fear may destroy all of Felskein..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 4

<Note: Just went back and copy-pasted all my posts into a file so I  would have a copy, just in case.  Turns out it's 215 pages so far!   Whew.

I also realized that the last post also marked the last part of my  "Three Acts" that I roughly divided the story up into, so I added a  little to the end of the last post.>

Kormak shivered and wrapped his cloak tighter. If anything, the wind here was even more biting than it had been on the other side of the Span.  There was a foul smell tinging it as well that he couldn't quite place.

Bail walked up to him in his usual minimal clothing - mostly just armor over his bare scales. It annoyed Kormak that the cold seemed to have no effect on the half-dragon.

"Chilly out here, huh?" he said.

"Is it?" Bail looked at the single locked metal door they'd found on the ledge under this side of the Span. "Suppose Harold is going to let us in or is he just going to leave us here?"

Suniel and Keeper walked over to join them. "I could fly up and check, but I have a really bad feeling about what's going on up there," Suniel said, glancing up at the Span and the black clouds above it.

"A rotting raven flew at me earlier while I taking a piss," Kormak said with a shiver. "I wasn't sure what it was at first, then it dove down and tried to bite off my-"

The door clicked and they all turned to see Harold, expression as dark as Kormak had ever seen. "Thanks for hurrying to let us-" he began.

Harold glared at him with murder in his eyes and Kormak had the rare realization that if he said another word there would be violence. Some part of him wanted to push it a little further, but Suniel seemed to sense it, met his eyes, and shook his head.

"Get in, now," Harold said flatly, holding the door open for them. They shuffled past quietly, even Bail.  They walked up through the faintly vibrating and thrumming innards of this Spire, working their way ever upwards.  Kormak thought a bit about Keeper's “Machinery of the Continent”.

_What sort of machine would a continent need? _he thought.  _Is there some massive construct that he's talking about?  Is that what the Crystal Towers Defenses that they've talked about are?  More giant constructs beneath Felskein?_

 He mused on it until they reached the functional area of the Spire, passing dozens, then hundreds of Crystal Towers soldiers.  Many were wounded, most had expressions as grim as Harold's, and all of them looked exhausted as they stepped out of the party's way with slow salutes to Harold.  “Is the Crystal Towers under attack?” Kormak said.  Harold nodded as he led them up more stairs.

 “It has to be the Ashen Towers,” Suniel said softly.  “That raven you saw, Kormak...”

 Then they reached a window and Harold stopped and made a curt gesture towards it.  “It is the Ashen Towers.  That which we have feared most has come upon us.  Look.”

 Kormak joined the others and stared out at the shuffling, moaning, stinking mass of the dead that pressed towards a massive wall at the Span's end.  They stood in shocked silence for several minutes.

 “That's one way to make a ramp I suppose,” Kormak said.  “I'd think there might be some material better for building one than corpses though.”

 “Gods forgive me,” Suniel whispered.

 “This means we don't have much time,” Bail said, gesturing out at the Span.  “We need to get to the True Stone.”

 Harold turned on the half-dragon, hands clenching into fists.  “You can think about the True Stones at a time like this?”

 Bail stared flatly back.  “You can think the Crystal Towers are important at a time like this?  Iron Sky could cut through this army like scythes through wheat.  Besides, Crystal Towers isn't the only thing on Felskein...”

 “The True Stone of Lightning is 45 miles to the south-east,” Keeper said.

 Suniel stepped between Harold and Bail and turned to Harold.  “What is 45 miles south-east from here?”

 Harold stared over Suniel at Bail for a few seconds more then shook his head.  “The Capitol.”

 “Then let's get to there as fast as we can.  The Crystal Towers is strong and has survived this long, I think perhaps they can survive a bit longer,” Suniel said, gesturing back down the stairs.  “Harold, lead the way.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 5

 Even inside the Span Wall, the battle continued. Trained falcons, hawks, and eagles clashed with flying dead of all types.  Smaller dead that had somehow made it over the wall fought with dogs and cats.  As they passed through a small town just inside the Span Wall, they even saw children with short spears patrolling streets and alleyways.

 Bail shook his head.  “There's no way we're going to find mounts here.”

 They stood in the midst constant bustle and commotion, children soldier squads hunting small dead like rats and mice, soldiers heading to the Span, others coming in bearing the wounded and maimed, riders carrying dispatches, small aerial combats, and in the distance the constant low moan of the countless dead that pressed against the outside of the Span Wall.

 “I thought about that before we left,” Suniel said.  They all looked over at him as he pulled a pair of reins out of his robe.

 “Going to harness up Bail again so he can pull us out?” Kormak said.
 Suniel raised the reins up and Bail quirked an eyebrow as one end of the rains stayed suspended in the air.  “That's a neat trick but-”

 Suniel jerked the other end of the reins and suddenly four spectral horses galloped into the street from nowhere, the Black Carriage gliding into existence behind them.

 Bail and the others stood and stared while a small self-satisfied smile appeared on Suniel's face.  The horses and the Carriage stood in the street, the horses' hooves and the Carriage's wheels floating a couple inches off the cobblestone.

 “Thought it might be useful if we could bring it with us, so I did some research while we were back in Port,” Suniel said with a shrug as he patted the side of the Carriage.

 “I was wondering why didn't bring it with you on the Turtle,” Kormak said.

 “Is it fast?” Harold said.  “We have a ways to go to get to the Capitol.”

 “For once I agree with the human,” Bail said.  “We might be better off trying to find horses...”

 “It's fast,” Suniel said softly.  “Climb on.”

 They complied, though Bail did grudgingly, eying the Carriage as he climbed atop.  “I don't know about this thing, it doesn't look that faaaaa!”

 Suniel snapped the reins and they shot out of the town faster than Bail had ever moved short of dragon flight.

 ***

 They were at the Capitol less than an hour later.  The city itself was built of sturdy white stone buildings with blue tile roofs, spreading out in a wide circle around the primary tower of the Crystal Towers.  Suniel guessed the tower was about a quarter to a third of a mile long on each side of the base and Harold had told him long ago that it was nearly a mile tall.  Leaning back as far as he could on the bench of the Carriage, he could barely see the gleam of the massive crystal at the top.

 “How big is that crystal?” Kormak said, squinting up as well.

 “Several hundred feet tall, maybe a hundred wide,” Harold said, not even looking up.

 Kormak whistled.

 “So, where are we going now?” Suniel said.

 Harold pointed at the Tower.  “The Magisters reside there.  That's where Ambassador Roderic needs to go.”

 “All right, hold on tight,” Suniel said, snapping the reins.

 ***

 Fifteen minutes later they were inside the Tower, being led by a pair of elite Crystal Guards in gleaming silver and crystal armor through the silversteel hallways.  They stopped at a large, ornate door and pushed it open.

 They walked into a small but lushly appointed room, covered with rich red rugs and wall hangings.  A ring of chairs sat in the center of the room with others scattered here and there around the walls.  A cheery fire burned behind a veil of faintly fluttering silks, its warm, shifting light complementing the silversteel's faint gleam.

 “This is the Senate Hall of the Magisters,” Harold said, glancing around.  “But where are the Magisters?”

 “There is one here,” a deep voice said.  An old man in blue robes pushed aside a tapestry, revealing a small door behind it.  “I was expecting you.”

 “Magister Archaras!” Harold started to salute but his hand stopped half-way up.  “_You_ were expecting _me_?”

 The Magister nodded.  “A flying island arrived here yesterday-”

 “Iron Sky!” everyone shouted at once, reaching for weapons.

 Archaras raised his hands.  “Yes, we know of them now.  The one who told us you were coming would like to meet you.”

 Harold nodded and started to follow the Magister.

 “No,” Suniel said.  “We have something else to do first.”

 Harold turned to see all eyes on Keeper.  The construct turned to Harold.

“The True Stone of Lightning is here, beneath us, somewhere in the Machinery of the Crystal Towers Defenses below.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 6

 “There's no way an artifact could have existed beneath the Crystal Towers for centuries without someone finding it,” Harold said.  “If there was one here, the Magisters would know about it.”

 “Then why does Keeper sense one deeper down?” Suniel said as they exited another stairwell into another cramped hallway.

 “Maybe he's broken?” Kormak said.

 Ahead of them Keeper stopped at an intersection and glanced both ways.  “Maybe you are broken,” Keeper said without looking back and turned left.

 Kormak blinked a few times and raised a questioning eyebrow at Suniel.  Suniel half-smiled and shrugged.

 “So... what are we going to do with this Lightning Stone once we find it?” Kormak said.  “Do we even know what they do or are we just collecting them so we can hand them over to Gilderalin.”

 Kormak cast a pointed look at Bail but the half-dragon didn't reply.

 “We are going to use it to help fend of the Ashen Tower,” Harold said.

 Bail stopped and crossed his arms but Suniel stepped between him and Harold.  “If we can use it to help the Crystal Towers, we will.  When we find it, I'd like to study it so we can perhaps determine what its true purpose and capabilities are.  Then we'll have a better idea of what all this is-”

 “Here,” Keeper said, stopping suddenly before a blank wall.

 They gathered around Keeper, staring blankly at the mostly featureless silversteel hallway.  It might just have been Kormak, but it seemed like it was warmer down here and the thrum of some massive machinery could be felt like a heartbeat.

 “Here... is what?” Kormak said.

 “I told you this was a waste of time, there's no artifact-” Harold began.

 Keeper pressed his palm against his forehead and a moment later the glistening blue of the Seeking Stone of Lightning was in his palm.  He raised it towards the wall and, in its faint yellow light, a tracery of glowing golden lines appeared on the walls, like branching, crisscrossing veins running just beneath the surface of the silversteel.  In the center of the wall Keeper stood before, there was a spherical gap where the gold lines met.

 There was a faint _click_ as Keeper pressed the Seeking Stone into that spot and when he removed his hand, the Seeking Stone was slowly sinking into the wall as though the silversteel was liquid beneath it.  Then it stopped and the thrumming of the tower got louder, joined by a high-pitched whine just at the edge of Kormak's hearing.  The small hairs on his neck and arms stood on end and the golden lines in the wall suddenly flared.

 The well panel containing the Seeking Stone recessed and slid into the wall, revealing a massive pit crisscrossed by grated steel walkways that looked somehow out of place next to the silversteel of the tower.  They walked forward across the strange metal grated walkway and stopped at a railing.

As the pit descended, the silversteel of the wall was replaced by the raw bedrock of Felskein.  Strange wires, cables, and tubes ran all over the place, many bundled together near the walls.  Steel and copper pipes crisscrossed the gap around the walkways as well, some as small as a finger, others wider than a wagon.

 At the bottom of it all was a wide metal pedestal encased in a dome of thick glass.  Hundreds of bundles of wires and cables and several pipes ran into the pedestal.  Whatever was inside flickered and sparked and flashed, like living lightning trapped by some ancient artifice.

 Kormak whistled.  “So, I'm guessing that's it?”

 Keeper nodded.  “The True Stone of Lightning – at least one of them.”

“One of them?”

 “I see a way down to the next walkway,” Bail said, jogging along the uppermost walkway with one hand on the railing.  “It looks like it crosses over to the other side.”

 “It does, into that recess in the wall over there,” Harold said, leaning over the rail and pointing across the wide chamber.  “And if I'm guessing correctly, it leads to some tunnel that comes out over there.”

 “This is going to take forever,” Kormak said, staring down at the several-hundred foot drop.  “They couldn't make the last bit easy could they?”

“What part of the first bit was easy?” Suniel said as they followed along behind Harold.

 Bail, already standing in the middle of the next walkway had apparently come to the same conclusion.  He was leading over the railing, staring down at another narrow walkway that crossed thirty feet below him.

 “Uh, you think he's going to...” Kormak began.

 Bail leapt the railing in one smooth motion.  He landed with a metallic _crunch_ and a grunt and the walkway swayed precariously beneath him.  Then he stood, hanging onto the railings until the walkways stopped swaying and then looked over the side to the next walkway.

 “That's one way to do it,” Suniel said, as they followed Harold out onto the walkway.

 “Yep,” Kormak said.  With a running jump he cleared the railing and landed right in front of Bail, rolling to his feet in a smooth motion.

 He winked at Bail.  “Race ya.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 7

A blur of movement out of the corner of his eye stopped Suniel cold.  As Keeper stopped behind him, he glanced over at the wall where metal cables and pipes crisscrossed each other over the bare stone.  _I could have sworn I saw something move through those cables.

_  He glanced down at Bail and Kormak leaning over the railing to judge their next jump and saw Harold stopped on the walkway below Suniel and Keeper, hand slowly moving towards the quiver on his back and staring at the same spot Suniel had been looking at.

 A chill went up Suniel's spine and, with a practiced murmur, a ward of shimmering energy surrounded him.  Without a word, Keeper's lightning shield and sword of light flared into existence.

 “There's something in here!” Harold shouted, firing an arrow into a mass of cables.

 Something slammed into the magical shield at Suniel's back, almost knocking him over the railing.  On instinct, he wheeled around and raised his hand, engulfing the metal walkway behind him with fire.  

The whole room shook as writhing red tentacles thrashed and burned, their charred stumps drawing back towards the wall as a dozen more burst through pipes and metal panels or writhed into view through grates.  A roar coming from seemingly everywhere echoed and reverberated through the pit.

 Suniel spared a quick glance down to see Kormak and Bail back-to-back on a walkway, a veritable sea of thick, barbed, ropey tentacles reaching for them as smaller whip-like tendrils lashed at their faces.  Harold was firing arrows in every direction, aiming for the thickest concentrations where they emerged near the walls.

 Lightning crackled behind him and Keeper's sword flashed as it seared through them, leaving bits and pieces thrashing and writhing one the walkways about them.  Suniel stepped closer to Keeper and clenched his fists, feeling the magic flow into them.  His mind when calm as a detached part of his brain intoned the familiar, memorized words of his magics.

 ***

 “There seems to be no end to them,” Bail shouted, cursing and ripping a grasping, fleshy feeler from around his wrist.  He swung his adamantine greatsword in a huge arc, slicing through them like a scythe through grass.  Kormak stretched one out and slashed through it with the blade of his hand and leapt away as a dozen more surged into the space he'd just occupied.

There was a flash of energy above them and another roar shook the room.  Bail slashed through the mass of tentacles again, ran two huge steps and jumped – Kormak right beside him – as a the hundred or more tentacles that had surrounded them pulled apart the walkway they had just been standing on.

 The distance down was farther than Bail had predicted and he landed hard on a massive pipe, almost losing his grip on his sword.  He grunted as he got to his feet, glancing up to see the tentacles disentangling themselves from the twisted metal remnants of the walkway and thrashing about as if searching for Bail and Kormak.

 “I suggest we keep moving as much as possible,” Kormak said.  “Maybe if we get to the bottom and can reach the Stone, we can use it to blast these things apart.”

 “Do you know how to use it?” Bail said, already running down the pipe to the next walkway and slashing, ducking, and weaving through the innumerable tentacles that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

A massive blast of fire detonated above them, flattening them in a blast of hot wind.  Bail muttered a thanks to the wizard as smoldering chunks of flesh rained down around them.

 “We'll figure that out when we get there.”

***

 Harold dropped his bow and drew his greatsword, slashing and leaping to clear a path ahead as the mass of tentacles closed in around him.  He had no doubts as to his fate if they got a hold on him.

 He reached the end of the walkway and spun, slashing through half-a-dozen whip-like tendrils that darted towards him, then ducked into a metal-paneled tunnel that ran through the rock for a ways.  Halfway down it, he considered just making a stand there, but then a panel just behind him exploded outwards with the press of a mass of razor-tipped flesh that still sought him.

 A quick slash into the thickest part of them was all he had time for before he turned and ran again, reaching the end of the tunnel to another walkway.  As he took his first step onto the grating, the whole room seemed to lurch sideways and the walkway tore free before him and fell onto the one below it.  That walkway bucked as well and the two slammed into a pipe, denting it and wrenching it half-free from where it ran into the bedrock.

_I guess this is where I make my stand then_, he thought, stepping back into the tunnel.  _Let's see how many of these things it takes to kill a Free Agent of the Crystal Towers._

 ***

 Suniel brought his arm down and a shock wave blasted out from him, shearing through the mass of flesh that hemmed them in.  Below, Bail and Kormak still jumped from walkway to walkway, always just one step ahead of being caught and torn apart while a slow cascade of collapsing walkways and pipes fell towards them.  Harold stood at the mouth of a tunnel, spinning wildly to hack away the tentacles that closed in on him from all sides, bleeding from a dozen small cuts and slashes.

 Suniel glanced up at the doorway back into the Tower tunnels, sweat and blood running downs his face.  “We might make it out Keeper, if we make a run for it now,” Suniel said as his construct slammed his lightning shield into the twisting mass he was holding at bay.

 Over the terrible slither of flesh, the wrenching squeal and clang of collapsing walkways, and the crackle of Keeper's weapons, he could barely hear the reply.  “But we won't.”

 Suniel smiled and suppressed a wave of exhaustion from the sheer amount of arcane energies had channeled and summoned to mind the trigger word for one of his last spells.  “You're right Keeper,” he said softly.  “We wont.”

 ***

 Bail and Kormak plummeted the last fifty feet towards the last walkway, but, as they fell through the air, a tentacle as thick as Bail's leg snatched Kormak out of the air.  Bail landed hard and glanced up to see the dwarf slamming his elbows into it ineffectually in between swatting away a swarm of smaller spine-tipped whips that darted towards his eyes and throat.

 Bail glanced down to where the True Stone flashed and flickered behind a foot-thick dome of glass, a sea of tentacles writhing around the base of the pedestal upon which it stood, some already reaching up towards Bail like a thousand blind snakes.

_Just maybe if I can break that glass, it will stop this thing._  He thought._  Maybe it feeds on it or, if I get my hands on it I can use it against this monstrosity.  Maybe it will release enough energy to kill us instantly in a flash of light._

 He spared one more glance above where his companions fought for their lives and the thousands of tentacles the closed in from every direction.  He reversed his sword and dove off the pipe upon which he knelt, hurtling towards the glass dome of the Lightning Stone, hoping his sword was strong enough to break through.

_If this is the last thing I do, at least maybe I'll take this thing with me._

Time seemed to slow as he fell through the air, sword high overhead as he fell, death reaching for him on every side.  _

Better a quick death..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 8

 Lightning arced out in all directions, across the platform, through the grating on the bottom of the floor, through cables, and into the still-collapsing walkways.  Bail himself was hurled across the room, slamming hard into the stone wall.  He rolled to his belly and slowly pulled himself to his feet, bruised, battered, and covered with dozens of wounds.

 The walls shook so hard that bits of the bedrock itself broke free and rained down around him and an inhuman scream pierced the air, so loud that Bail doubled over, clutching the sides of his head.  The scream continued for what seemed like an eternity then slowly faded, drowned out by the deafening bang and clatter of dozens of walkways slamming into each other as they collapsed.

Bail pressed against the wall, shielding his head with his arms as jagged bits of broken metal and hunks of rubble slammed into the ever-growing heap of wreckage in the center of the pit or ricocheted off, flying in all directions.

 Finally it was over, leaving behind a strange silence shrouded by choking dust that was tinged with the smells of rust and dead flesh.  Bail waited until it had settled for a bit, staring out at the deep shadows of the pit, the only light the faint gleam of silversteel high above.

Here and there in the wreckage, bits of red tentacle dangled, smashed and lacerated, black ichor running from them across the broken metal.  Every once in a while, lightning would arc between two bits of metal and the air felt charged, like the feeling in the air just before a thunderstorm.

 Bail dug around in the debris near the wall, searching for several minutes before he finally found it.  Fortunately, the magically-forged adamantine was untouched, despite being buried squarely under a large metal girder.

 “Hello, anyone else alive down here?” he heard Kormak call, his voice seemingly small in the dark vastness of the pit.

 “Kormak, where are you?” Bail yelled.

 “I'm mostly over here I think,” Kormak shouted back.  A moment later, Bail saw a trace of movement atop the heaped wreckage and Kormak's stout frame rose into view.

 A pure white light blossomed into existence far above them and the small forms of Suniel and Keeper came into view leaning over the highest platform near the door to the pit.  “Glad to see you alive down there,” Suniel shouted, waving.

 A moment later, three faint globes of blue light appeared in a wall alcove fifty feet below Suniel and Bail could see the human leaning out.  “Did you find the Stone yet?”

 Bail rolled his eyes.  “I hope you don't think it's yours human, just because it is in your empire.”

 “Let's just find it first,” Suniel shouted.  “I have some small magics that will help get us down to you, though it will take some time.”

 ***

 They stared in awe at the Lightning Stone, an elongated shard of hematite whose surface rippled with lightning and charged the air within fifty feet of it.  Suniel held it lightly in his hand, mesmerized by the play of energy across its surface and by the incredible power and presence of the Stone, as though it somehow was the anchor that kept reality in place around it.  It felt as though he was spinning slowly into it and yet it held him rooted in place at the same time and when he moved it, though the Stone was physically light, it had a strong tug of inertia, feeling for all the world as if it was pulling him along after it.

 “With this we can save my homeland from Thessalock,” Harold said.

 “With this we can save your whole continent from Iron Sky,” Bail said, shaking his head.

 “Perhaps we can do both,” Suniel said.

 “Well, whatever we're saving, we're not doing it today,” Kormak said, rising and looking about the pit.  “I don't know about you, but I feel like I traveled a hundred miles today - under the feet of a million walking dead - was nearly crushed to death several times by some unnameable abomination, and then was left stranded at the bottom of a huge pit that smells like a flattened, rusty metal meat shop.  Oh wait, that's right, that all happened.  Can we get out of here now?”

 Bail glanced up at the cliff walls.  “I could probably climb it, though it looks dangerous and I too am weary from the battle.”

 “Can your magics get us out, Suniel?” Harold said, glancing his way.

Suniel tucked the True Stone into a small bag, feeling its presence like a living thing and stood.  He glanced at Keeper, standing still as the statue he resembled at Suniel's side.  Suddenly, the tremendous strain of the day's exertions hit Suniel and he leaned on the construct for support.  “I need to rest and recover first, at least a few hours to clear my head before I can do much of anything.”

 “I don't like the idea of sleeping down here,” Bail said, glancing about warily.  “We don't know if whatever that thing was that lived down here is dead or not.”

 “If it is, look on the bright side; we'll die peacefully in our sleep,” Kormak said as he dragged a sheet of relatively intact metal from the pile and sat down, leaning against it.  A moment later the dwarf was snoring.

 “I don't like this much either,” Harold said.

 “Keeper will protect us,” Suniel said walking to the wall and leaning against the cool bedrock.  “Just give me a few hours.”

 Suniel closed his eyes and felt a bit of the tension of battle slowly drain from him.  Right at the edge of deep trance, he resisted for a moment and opened his eyes, looking at where Bail and Harold sat as far from each other as they could and still be in sight of the others, holding their weapons and glaring at each other.

 “Don't kill each other until I wake up, deal?” Suneil said.  He shook his head and closed his eyes, a wry smile on his lips at how darkly ironic it would be if the two of them traveled all this way, endured the terrible battle in the pit and all the dangers preceding, to finally find a bit of hope - and then murdered each other.

The smile slowly relaxed and in minutes Suniel had fallen into a deep trance.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 9

 Valea stood at the base of the rope-bridge that led to the Skyland of the Seers, waiting.  Standing on anchored ground still felt strange, though the faint thrum that she could feel in the Silversteel of the Crystal Tower made it slightly less alien.  The idea of so much land in one place, the euphoria of the prophecy coming true in her lifetime... she could barely wait until she met the Restorers.

 A chill wind welcomed the dawn in and not long after, she saw them, exactly as they had been described in prophecy.

 First came the human, the proud archer to whom she was to give the island.  Next came the dwarf, as ugly as predicted.  Then cam the wizard and his Keeper, who would stand at the end of the Grimwythe.  Last was the child of the dragons, who would stand beside the dwarf as the world was remade.

 She bowed as they approached.  “I am Velea the Seer.  We have been waiting for you for generations.  Please, come onto my Skyland.  I'm sure you have many questions.”

 “They weren't kidding,” the dwarf said, staring past her at the Skyland.  “There actually are flying islands.”

 “I am Suniel and this is Keeper,” Suniel said, bowing to her.  The Keeper mimicked his master and Velea marveled that this Keeper would be the One.

“I am Bail,” the half-dragon said, with a nod.

 “Ah, the child of the Great One,” Velea said, returning his nod.

 The human snorted and walked past her to stare at the Skyland.  “If you want to call Gilderalin that.”

 Velea glanced at Bail and quirked a questioning eyebrow, but the half-dragon shook his head slightly and made a subtle waving-off gesture with his hand.  Velea didn't understand entirely, but didn't speak on it.

 “The obnoxious human is Harold by the way,” the dwarf said.  “And I'm Kormak, at your service.”

 “This Skyland would be useful in the defense of the Crystal Towers,” Harold said, turning to her.  “Have you come to ally with the Crystal Towers?”

“No,” she said, slightly surprised.  “I've come to give the Skyland to you, Harold, and do what I can to help the Restorers to find the True Stones.  This fabled Felskein is the last hope for the peoples of the Thousand Skylands.”

 “Wait, you're giving it to _me_?” Harold said, eyes widening.

 “The peoples of the Thousand Skylands?” Suniel said.  “Are they threatened by Iron Sky too?”

 She nodded and began leading the way onto her Skyland.  “Yes.  Iron Sky had taken twelve Skylands last I heard.  Fortunately, few of them are very large, but when they reach Felskein...”

"Go back to the part where you're giving this island to _him_," the dwarf said, pointing hard at Harold.

 “So, they are on the way here?” Bail said as they finished crossing the bridge and began walking up the rocky path that spiraled up the small floating mountain of her Skyland.

 “Yes, suddenly they ceased their attacks and began pushing hard in this direction.  Fortunately, the High Seer had predicted the removal of the Sky Ward that had kept Felskein hidden from us all these centuries, so we reached you first.”

 “How much time do we have?” Suniel said, glancing at one of the small meditation pagodas that sat on a rocky ledge near the path.

 “Five, six weeks I would guess,” she said.  “But it was not Iron Sky I was speaking of when I said Felskein was the last hope for the people of the Thousand Skylands – and the people of Felskein.  All of the Child Races risk extinction.”

 “From what?” several of them said in unison.

 “The Grimwythe.”  She paused as they reached the Reflecting Pool and the small shrine at its center on another ledge beside the path.  “It is custom, let us stop and see if the Reflecting Pool speaks.”

 “It talks?” Kormak said as they followed her to the pool.

 She knelt beside it and the others joined on either side of her.  Out of her peripheral vision she saw them exchange questioning glances, but her eyes were to the Pool only.

 She stared at the Pool with such intensity that soon the others were gazing in as well.  The chill wind that rippled the Pool slowly died down and the water stilled to a mirror-sheen.  She knelt beside the others, the Pool revealing nothing – as it always did – until just before she was about to give up.

 Like a reflection of something in the sky, she saw a massive cliff, just like the ones on the sides of Felskein where it plummeted to the Endless Sands.  As they watched, they seemed to descend along the cliff face, faster and faster until suddenly they were over the sands, traveling at tremendous speed across the never-ending dunes.  She pointed to a spot in the reflection, not saying a word.

 Something moved beneath the sands of the reflection, just beneath the surface.  At first it was just in one spot, but it slowly grew until it seemed something dark and terrible filled the entirety of the Endless Sands that shadowed them, chased them.  They seemed to slowly fall, nearer and nearer the Sands.  She could feel the tension, hear the others hold their breath, see them leaning away from the Pool but unable to take their eyes off of it.

 The feeling of menace, threat, danger from whatever was below them in the Sands grew as they neared.  Velea felt her breathing quicken and heart pound and a scream welled up in the back of her throat.  Something ancient and terrible waited beneath the sand, waiting for her to get close enough, hungering for them.  Suddenly the sands blew apart as whatever it was lunged up at them and they all leapt backwards away from the Pool as it geysered ten feet into the air before them.

 That sat in silence for a moment, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

 “That...” she said softly, willing her own breathing to slow.  “_That _was the Grimwythe.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 24, Part 10

 The temple atop the Skyland was austere yet beautiful.  Everything seemed to have perfect symmetry and balance, as though precise care had gone into the placement of even the smallest elements.  Inside was spacious, with gilded symbols inlaid in nearly every beam and wall.

 What interested Suniel the most, however, was the carving of the continent of Felskein in the center of the room.  He'd seen ancient maps of the whole of Felskein, but never a physical replica – especially one of such exquisite detail.  Whoever - or whatever - had carved it had only land features, no marks of civilization except the Span and the Crystal Towers, and a few strange rings of stone here and there that had to be artificial.   

As they gazed upon it in silence and Suniel's eye followed their route from Northmand, down the Greenpath to the Crystal Deeps to where Steamport would be, then on down the Crystal River and the Landspear Lake and its namesake.  He traced their route across the Freeholds to the Span and the Crystal Towers that were actually made of Silversteel in the replica.

“Our order has sought Felskein for millennium.  Most of the inhabitants of the Thousand Skylands consider Felskein to by a myth and I will admit that sometimes I wondered if we were searching for a dream all this time,” Velea said.  “We were told not to touch it, but you'll notice where the edges of the continental cliffs are worn smooth... over eons, every once in a while even a Seeker feels the need to touch the dream for assurance.”

 “Why is Felskein so important?” Kormak said, squinting at the model.  “It just looks like a giant slab of rock to me.”

 “It is important because thousands of years ago, it is said that the Thousand Skylands were ruled by Felskein, but Felskein disappeared, leaving the Skylands to fend for themselves.  Though in the time since, kingdoms and empires that span dozens or even hundreds of Skylands have formed and disintegrated, the Skylands are still fragmented and now Iron Sky is taking them one-by-one.”

 “Where did Iron Sky come from?” Bail said.  “We have pieced together some things about them, but there is much still unknown.”

 “Iron Sky was created by the Elarim to combat the Grimwythe long, long ago, back when Felskein still ruled the Thousand Skylands and the Childraces were still slaves to their creators.  Iron Sky failed to defeat the Grimwythe and several of their most powerful Keepers began taking the power from the Elarim to strengthen themselves against the Grimwythe.  The Elarim gave over their power willingly at first, believing that they had no choice if Iron Sky was to defeat the Grimwythe.  Instead, Iron Sky took so much from them that the Childraces were able to rise up and overthrow the Elarim.

 “The Elarim tried to turn Iron Sky against their Children, but only some of the Keepers obeyed.  The Elarim were hunted down and their image expunged from the face of history.  They say that only one Elarim survived, though what or where it might be is unknown – if it still exists at all.”

“So, what is Iron Sky doing now?  And by Keepers, do you mean...” Bail pointed at Keeper.

 Velea nodded.  “Keepers are the minds behind the automaton empire of Iron Sky.  They are like the puppet masters behind the machines, the rulers of the rest.  In fact, Iron Sky itself is named after the first Full Keeper, the one that controls what we know as Iron Sky.”

 “Does it have a personality?” Kormak said.  “Suniel's one unfortunately seems to be developing one.  And what's a 'Full Keeper'?”

 Keeper glanced flatly at Kormak and Suniel again found himself wondering what his construct was thinking or... feeling?

 “The Keepers are designed to think and experience something akin to feeling,” Velea said, nodding at Keeper.  “Though what exactly the remaining Keeper's motivations are...  none know except him.  As for a Full Keeper, I'm assuming you have placed several Seeking Stones inside this Keeper.  Each Keeper can hold a certain number and each increases their power.  When a Keeper is full, their powers are legendary.”

 “Ok, so how big is Iron Sky?” Kormak said.  “There's gloom-and-doom about that they'll destroy everything on Felskein.  Can they do that?”

 Velea shrugged.  “Maybe.  They have placed Factories on each of the Skylands they have taken, so their numbers grow rapidly.”

 “Factories?” Suniel said.

 “Yes, giant constructs that consume the resources of the land and craft Iron Sky constructs out of them.  If they landed Factories on Felskein, there would be almost no limit to their growth.  If Iron Sky takes Felskein, they could perhaps complete their original mission and destroy the Grimwythe that slumber just beneath the Endless Sands – or conquer all of the Thousand Skylands.”

 “Why do we need these then?” Suniel said, pulling the True Stone of Lightning out.  Suddenly, the air was charged with static and sparks rained down from the Stone.

 “With those, you can activate the Crystal Towers Defenses and return Felskein to its rightful place as ruler of the Thousand Skylands.”

 “How many do we need to do that?” Suniel said.

 “Five to activate the Defenses, nine if Felskein is to be totally empowered.”

 “Well, for now can we use it against the dead of the Ashen Towers?” Harold said, speaking up for the first time since they'd left the pit.  “It might slow them and it will give you an opportunity to test and study its power.”

 Suniel glanced at Harold, catching a faint glimpse of the despair and suffering beneath the archer's carefully controlled demeanor.  “Very well, we can do that at least.”

 “I will remain here until you return,” Velea said.  “Do not be long, we have little time before Iron Sky arrives.”

 “We will make full haste,” Suniel said.

 “Besides, what do we have to worry about?” Kormak said.  “What does the Ashen Towers have to throw at us when we have an artifact?”

 Suniel hoped they wouldn't find the answer to that question.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 25, Part 1
 <Note: Here's the post that would have been on Thursday if not for my post in the Iron DM Challenge>

 Harold watched as Suniel and the others sped away atop the black carriage.  He would have a hard day's ride to make it to the Wall after them – a trip that they could make in less than an hour.  He shook his head, saluted the guard on duty, and walked into the small dining hall where Colonel Imrant waited.  

Her title was Commander of the Free Agents, but she was more like a military liaison since Free Agents were mostly under their own recognizance.  There were times, however, when Free Agents needed the help of the military or the Ministry and this was one of those times.

The room was small and almost cozy, by military standards at least.  A wide fireplace full of crackling logs warded off the winter chill and a thick rug lay before it.  Against the opposite wall was a long oak table with matching benches.  Imrant sat with a steaming bowl of what looked like stew and a loaf of dark bread.  She stood as he walked in and startled him by catching the hand he was raising to salute her and shaking it.

“You're technically not military anymore Agent Trisden, that means we can dispense with certain formalities.”  She motioned to the table.  “Have a seat.  Have you eaten?”

He shook his head and sat as she motioned to the guard and ordered more food brought.  Then she sat down, tore off a hunk of bread, and dipped it into her stew.

“What brings you to me Trisden.  May I call you Harold?”

“Yes ma'am,” he said.

“You can call me Imrant.  There were three of us named Emma in my first unit, so I got to be Imrant.  One of the other girls had a real matronly look, so she was stuck with Mama.”  Imrant smiled.  “I guess I was the lucky one.”

“I came to... well, first let me inquire as to the state of the Rising Plague here on the Crystal Towers mainland.  Is it contained?”

“Yes, now we know what to look for,” she said, cupping one hand under her sodden bread as she took a bite.  “Strange thing is, just once we have it quarantined, it breaks out somewhere entirely different.  It's perplexing.  There's a theory that-”

“There are Ashen Towers abominations that have infiltrated the Crystal Towers and are spreading the plague.”  Harold leaned back as the guard set a tray with another bowl of stew, a few slices of bread, a chunk of hard yellow cheese, and a couple small apples in front of him, then a steaming wooden mug.  Harold's stomach grumbled as he looked at it and he wondered how long it had been since he'd thought to eat something.

“Creatures?  How do you know this?”

 “We interrogated the ghost of one of the North Spire guards that was killed by one of the creatures.  You might call them plaguewalkers.  I got the impression they are some sort of shapechangers, but they can be found by a yellowish residue their touch leaves behind.”

 “I see.  I'll get that information to the right people immediately.”  She stood and motioned the guard over again, talking with him for a couple minutes while Harold tore into the food, barely tasting it as his mind constantly churned on the Ashen Towers and their assault on his homeland.

 Imrant sat down again and was silent for a moment.  Harold looked up and saw her watching him with a small, bemused smile.  “Been a while since you've eaten?”

 “I have another thing that must be done,” he said, wiping crumbs from his uniform.  “I have spent the last several months traveling with a wizard who is constantly studying his tomes and researching the arcane-”

 “They do that.”

 “It gave me an idea, though my personal training in the arcane is minimal.  I don't know if it would be possible, but I have an idea that might stop the Ashen Towers assault at the Span Wall, or at least slow it significantly.”

She leaned towards him.  “You have my complete attention.”

 He calmed down the near-constant churn that was the tangle of his thoughts and emotions since they had heard of the Rising Plague, a mental disquiet that had only gotten stronger the deeper they got into his besieged homeland.

“It will take some doing and must be done quickly if it is to work, but my plan is this...”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 25, Part 2


 Suniel stood at the very top of the Spire, overlooking the moaning horde of the dead that still pressed endlessly against the Span Wall.  The corpse ramp here was taller now, almost three-quarters of the way up, the dead awkwardly slipping an falling over the bodies of the others only to be picked off by the Crystal Towers defenders – but it seemed there was no end to the walking dead, still stretching across the Span as far as Suniel could see.

 Suniel raised the Lightning Stone to the sky and focused on the key he'd discovered to unleashing the immense elemental energies contained within.  A rippling boom passed through the clouds overhead and Suniel felt as though raw lightning was flowing through his skin.  The subtle rush that normally accompanied channeling and control magic wasn't at all subtle with the artifact in his upraised hand, it was like he _was_ the lightning.

With a huge grin and gesture he called down the untamed wrath of the skies, laughing with pure glee.

 ***

 “You finally done using that thing?” Kormak said, standing up and glancing at the setting sun as the crack and flash of thunder and lightning roared in the background.  “You've been blasting apart zombies for hours.”

 “Its powers, though tremendous, are not unlimited,” Suniel said, turning to Bail and Kormak.  The elf's eyes were wide and his face flushed.

 “Jeez, can I use that thing next time?” Kormak said.  “You stood there for five hours and yet you look like... like...”

 “He looks like he just laid an egg,” Bail said, glancing down at the swath Suniel had blasted through the dead.

 “Laying an egg makes you look like that?” Kormak said.  “I would think it would be uncomfortable.”

 “The dragons I've seen lay eggs seemed to enjoy it,” Bail said.  “Looks like you killed thousands of them Suniel.  Maybe tens of thousands.  That last wicked storm you summoned is killing more as we speak.”

 “Did you lay an egg while you were using that thing?” Kormak said, leaning back and forth and tugging at the back of Suniel's robe.

 “It might have destroyed thousands, but there's millions more,” Suniel said, pulling his robe out of Kormak's hands.

 They stood and watched as the wrath of the lightning storm Suniel has summoned faded with the last light of the day.

 “What did I miss?” Harold said, walking up beside them, his clothing rumpled from what had to have been many hours of hard riding to get to the Span Wall.

 “Suniel killed a bunch of them dead - well, more dead - with lightning,” Kormak said, pointing down the the sea of shambling corpses below them.

 Harold glanced down.

 “It's hard to tell exactly where he killed them since new ones have already come in to replace them, but I swear, he hit this one that must have been a cow and pieces of it flew easily a hundred feet high.”

 “So it didn't stop them,” Harold said, his voice falling.  “I thought that thing was supposed to be powerful.”

 Kormak rolled his eyes.

 “Believe me, it is powerful.  Here it might help slightly, but this battle is too large even for an artifact of this power,” Suniel said.  “I think for us to have any hope, we have to do as Velea said, find the other Stones and bring them to the henges.  Who knows, maybe the Crystal Towers defenses-”

“I have a plan that might save the Crystal Towers,” Harold said.  “It is underway as we speak.  I just hope they can complete before the Wall is overrun."

Just then, there was some commotion from inside the Spire.  Harold jogged over to investigate, returning a few minutes later with a grim expression.  “They say a couple miles from here, the corpse ramp has reached the top of the Wall.  Worse, one of Thessalock's abominations guards it and slays anyone who tries to approach.  If it isn't destroyed, the whole Span Wall could be overrun by tomorrow.”

“Sounds like it's a good time for us to leave to me.  Anyone else?” Kormak said, ignoring Harold's baleful glare.

Suniel raised his hands to calm Harold.  “Of course we will see if we can help - though afterward, we should depart to gather more of the Stones before we become trapped here.”

 Kormak didn't think Harold heard anything beyond “we can help”, but he'd let Suniel and Bail worry about it.

Kormak cracked his knuckles.  “I have a hankering to kill something terrible.  Let's do it.”

 A minute later they were literally flying across the ground at the base of the Span Wall atop Suniel's carriage.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 25, Part 3


 “What's going on up there?” Harold called to the packed guardsmen.

 “Ahead, they've overrun us and anyone who goes any closer is killed.”

 They stared out at the guardsmen holding back the mindless dead that hurled themselves towards living flesh.  Harold climbed down from the carriage and the others followed him, readying themselves for battle.

***

 With patience born of centuries of waiting, it bided its time while a group of living-ones destroyed the trivial dead walkers on the wall.  They moved quickly and the ancient one waited until they reached the place where the piled bodies reached the top of the wall.  With a thought it summoned several of its powerful minions, but it didn't wait for them to arrive; it wanted to taste the dying souls of these beings for it could already sense the strength of their life force.

 They noticed it when it was nearly upon them and a dim sense of anticipation welled in it as it stepped onto the wall to face them.  It noted with some interest that they were unaffected by its gaze, the same gaze that had frozen all the mortals it had ever faced with fear – all except Thessalock that is.  Thoughts of its master caused it immense pain so it banished such thoughts and pointed its finger at one of the living ones, to snuff the being's life force.  To its surprise, the being struggled and then shrugged off the unholy energies that nearly killed it and hurled a spell in return.

 They began attacking, one firing arrows, another drawing a sword and charging along side a third that looked as though it was going to attack with its bare hands.  A golem followed behind.  It ignored the one with the sword and the one that punched and kicked futilely at it and turned to the archer that was actually hurting it.

 The archer lifted into the air as it fired, drifting off the wall and away, over the mass of the dead that had overrun the wall and churned a hundred feet below.  With a gesture, it stole the arcane energies that allowed the archer to fly and turned away as the human plummeted to certain death.

 Turning back, it opened its hand and hurled a blast of unworldly cold at the four remaining figures, immediately following up by striking them with a rotting plague.

 They weathered the attack and pressed their own, but aside from the petty magics thrown by the one in back and his golem, they were barely harming it.  A globe of darkness formed around it, blinding its enemies and it slammed its fist into the one with the sword, hammering him into the stone of the wall then tossing the limp body aside.  It walked past the one that struck it impotently with his fists and approached the magic-wielder, enjoying the look of fear it its eyes as it backed away.

 It walked out of its darkness and brushed aside the weak spells hurled at it.  The dead pressed up behind the mage, preventing him from fleeing further.  With a sense of anticipation it had not felt in decades, it reached for the magic user to consume his life-force only to be surprised by an arrow that came out of nowhere and hit it in the leg.  It turned slowly and looked to see the archer that had fallen firing at it, ignoring the horde of the dead that surrounded him, trying to pull him apart.  As he stared down at it, another arrow struck it in the chest and it staggered back again, staring at the arrow in its chest.  It looked up again and a third arrow hit it between the eyes sending it back into the darkness that had spawned it.

 ***

 Harold pushed his way through the moaning dead, digging into a pocket for a small item he'd carried with him since he'd been sent to Northmand.  Struggling against the tugging and pawing of the dead around him, he thrust the feather into the ground and grabbed onto a branch of the tree that shot up rapidly before him.

A few seconds later he was forty feet above the ground, surrounded by leafy branches.  He took a deep breath, wincing as he dug for one of his potions.  Through the branches, he saw Suniel's carriage fleeing along the top of the wall with Kormak and Keeper atop it.  Behind them were detonations of flame as Suniel blasted whatever it was he was fleeing from.

_I killed the big one, what is he running from?_ Harold thought as he drank a potion and felt its healing mixture seep into his wounds.

 A minute later, half-a-dozen spectral forms were upon him and he was again fighting for his life.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 26, Part 1


 Keeper and Kormak carefully lowered Bail's body down from the carriage into the waiting hands of the guardsmen.

 “What happened to the Free Agent?” one of them said as a group of them carried the half-dragon's body down a ramp to the small town at the base of the wall.

 Suniel shook his head.  “As we fled, I saw several powerful spectral abominations closing in on him.  His skill with a bow is great, but I doubt even he can survive a battle against six of them at once while stuck up in a tree.”

 The guardsmen all around them exchanged worried looks and Suniel could almost see the ripple of fear that made its way through their ranks.

 “What about that monster that was killing everyone?” one of them called out.  “Is it coming this way now?”

 “It was a nightwalker,” Keeper said.

 “Your Free Agent killed it just before the wraiths arrived,” Suniel said with a curious glance at Keeper.

 A halfhearted cheer went up after that, but died away quickly.  “What about the wraiths?” another guardsman called out.  “If we don't get back there and retake the breach, they'll overrun us!”

 Suniel glanced at the guardsmen carrying Bail away, then down to Kormak.  “We should go back and get Harold's body at least, see if we can claim it before the walking dead devour him.”

 “By 'we' you mean you and Keeper, right?” Kormak said.

 Suniel stared at him.

 “Fine, fine, wouldn't want the zombies getting indigestion.”

 Minutes later they were back at the breach, the carriage plowing through the dead that had already packed the wall again.  Suniel pulled the carriage to a stop and glanced around as Kormak and Keeper set to taking down anything that got too close to the carriage.

 The area looked almost identical to how they'd left it, except next to the wall below was a fifty-foot tall tree that hadn't been there before.  Suniel glanced down at it, detecting the definite after-effects of conjuration.  “Harold, you alive down there?”

 He tilted his head and listened, hearing nothing but the continuous moan of the close-packed dead below and the occasional sounds of fighting from the front or back of the carriage.  “Harold?”

 “I said, I'm alive, no thanks to you,” he heard, the archer's words just barely audible.  “There were way too many of those things.  Throw down a rope or something.”

 “Is he dead and eaten yet?” Kormak called from the front of the carriage.  “And if so, can we go now?”

 “He's alive,” Suniel said, opening up his carriage and pulling out a length of rope he always kept just inside for emergencies.

 He tied the rope off on a side-railing and tossed the end down to the tree.  A few minutes later, he helped haul Harold up, the human's face looking drawn and his usually immaculate uniform torn to shreds by the pawing hands of the dead.

 “Good to see you alive,” Suniel said.

 “We lose anyone?” Harold said, climbing atop the carriage as Suniel pulled up the rope.

 “We lost Bail.”

Harold grunted.

 “Keeper, Kormak, pull back, we're heading back,” Suniel called as he climbed atop the carriage bench.  The construct and dwarf complied.

 “Oh, you're alive,” Kormak said, glancing in mock surprise at Harold as he settled down atop the rapidly accelerating carriage.  “Made quite a sight, you falling out of the sky like that.”

 “The undead I landed on mostly broke my fall,” Harold said.  “Then I saved your lives, climbed that tree, and, single-handed, killed half-a-dozen shadows and wraiths.”

 “Yup, sure is good to have you back,” Kormak said, patting Harold on the back.  “Now we can get back to saving the world.”

 “Or at least the few parts that are worth saving,” Harold said.

 “On that, at least, we agree,” Kormak said, clapping his hand on Harold's shoulder.  “So lets get the heck out of the Crystal Towers and go save them.”

 Harold shrugged the dwarf's hand off and settled into one of his brooding silences.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 26, Part 2


 “He fought Thessalock?” Harold said, incredulously.

 “And died. Thessalock has one of what we now know as the True Stones.  I raised Archeras this morning,” High Cleric Granath said.  “As I'm about to go do for your friend.  If you'll excuse me.”

 “Magistar Archeras died?” Harold repeated, staring at the doorway the dwarven High Cleric had just passed through.

 “I overheard the troops talking about the Magisters' endless battle against Thessalocks liches.  They teleport somewhere into the Crystal Towers mainland every morning and wreak havoc until the Magisters can track them down and destroy them, then they just return the next day.”  Suniel shook his head.  “I could see why your people are... grim.”

 Harold turned on him, pointing his finger in Suniel's face.  “You are part of this, elf.  This is your doing too, don't deny it.”

 “I am more sorry for that than you will ever know,” Suniel said.  “But there's nothing else I can do about that now, so I've moved on.  I know it's hard to hear right now, but there are more important things that we can have a hand in than the Crystal Towers...”

 Suniel trailed off as Harold walked out of the room.

 “Touchy, touchy.  Guess he-”

 “Not now Kormak,” Suniel said, raising his hand to silence the dwarf.

 A few minutes later, Granath returned from the next room.  “Your friend is alive, though a bit confused.  He began talking Kobaldish the moment he awakened and asking for someone named Meepo.”

 Kormak walked past, followed by Keeper, but  Granath stopped Suniel.  “I overheard what you were saying and Archeras told me what the Seer from the Island said.  All I have to say is this; if the Stones you seek will activate the Crystal Towers Defenses, then by all means do so.  It's hard to fathom an even larger threat looming with the future of the Crystal Towers already teetering on edge, but I have the feeling that who or whatever created the Crystal Towers themselves made them for some larger purpose.  I'm proud of the Crystal Towers and what we stand for, but we are, in a sense, merely squatting in the abandoned ruins of some civilization far greater than we can likely even imagine.”

 Suniel bowed to Granath.  “I will do what I can.  And to be fair to the Crystal Towers, those ruins you spoke of were abandoned for a reason.  From what little I've learned of our Elarim fore-bearers, they may indeed have been powerful, but whether they were 'great' is open to argument.”

 Granath nodded.  “Well, go see your friend, I'll go find our fiery Free Agent and share with him what I shared with you.”

 “Thank you, I'd appreciate that,” Suniel said, bowing again as Granath left.

“...luckily for you, Suniel stopped me, otherwise you'd have come back as the only half-dragon ever to sport a mustache,” Kormak was saying as Suniel walked in.

 “Ah, Suniel.  I had the strangest vision and Kormak told me I died,” Bail said.  The half-dragon sat on a cot, his back and head leaning against the wall.  “The Great One spoke to me while I was on the other side and told me things were going to be all right.”

 Suniel shook Bails hand.  “Glad to have you back with us.”

 “Gilderalin made a personal visit to you while were dead?  And what makes her so great anyway, she mostly just seemed bossy when we met her before,” Kormak said.

 Suniel squinted at Bail.  “You've admitted that Gilderalin is your mother, but why do I get the feeling it is another dragon you truly follow?”

 At that moment, Harold walked in and glanced at Bail.  “Ah, you're alive again.”  He looked at the others.  “My Skyland returned.”

 “_Your_ Skyland?” Kormak said.

“Returned from where?” Suniel said at almost at the same time.

“I sent the Seer on a diplomatic mission to the elves of the One Tree requesting their aid against the Ashen Towers,” Harold said.

 “You did what?” Bail said, sitting bolt upright then wincing.  “You risked a True Stone and a Skyland on _what_?”

 “Easy buddy,” Kormak said.  “Slow down, you were dead fifteen minutes ago, remember?”

 Harold ignored Bail and Kormak, focusing on Suniel.  “She said that there was a monstrous Ashen Towers creature that landed on the island and roosted there during the night.  She hid from it and it left the next morning, so she turned around and came back.”

 “So, let me guess where this is going,” Kormak said.  “If we want to leave the Crystal Towers, first we need to track down and kill another Ashen Towers beasty like the one that just killed our friend Bail here?”

 “Technically, it was one of the wights that actually killed him, the Nightwalker merely mortally wounded him,” Keeper said.

 Everyone glanced at the construct for a moment, then returned to their discussion.  “If we fly anywhere, we can expect that thing to come back,” Harold said.  “So I suggest we set an ambush for it.”

 “Why are we taking the Skyland?” Kormak said.  “Don't we have a perfectly comfy turtle on the other side of the Span?”

 “Harold is right,” Suniel said.  “The Skyland travels far faster than the turtle and can also avoid any terrain that might impede us.  An ambush is probably our best option.”

 “Want to draw straws on who gets killed this time?” Kormak said.

 “Agreed, Suniel,” Bail said.  “Much as it pains me to do what this human says, it is probably the fastest way to find the rest of the True Stones."

 “Ok, I guess I'm in,” Kormak said.  He pointed a finger at Harold.  “But if this thing kills me, I blame you.”


----------



## Asha'man

This story is fantastic. I want you to know that, despite the paucity of replies besides your story post, you have a following!

If I might be so rude, do you have a Rogues' Gallery? I'd love to see the stats for some of these monsters, or for the PCs.


----------



## Iron Sky

Thanks for the feedback man, glad you are enjoying it.

I think I have the old characters kicking around somewhere, but I'm not sure about the monsters stats.  This game ended... a year ago now?  More?  I'll see what I can find though.


----------



## Sanzuo

Iron Sky said:


> This game ended... a year ago now?




When did 4e come out? Because it was shortly before that.


----------



## Iron Sky

No post tonight since I've been working on my entry in the Iron DM finals.  Posts will resume this weekend.


----------



## Xyque

*Trisdon is my fav0rite karactar evar!1!! <3*

I have Herald Trisdon's final sheet, whom I believe is the inspiration for this Harold Trisdon guy. There are a few enigmatic lone-wolf figures of legendary status running around my Pathfinder campaign world, he's one of them.

There's not much I wouldn't give to play him again in 3.5 or Pathfinder in his higher levels, I seriously jones to play him again in proper venue. Anyways I'll share his info if you want to do a rogues gallery thing.

Grats and props on the finals in the Iron DM challenge, I enjoyed your entry, good luck!


----------



## Iron Sky

Thanks Xyque.  Yeah, Harold was pretty gnarly - surviving that fight in the tree after taking out the Nightwalker was especially lucky.

I just found the folder with all the other characters(including Keeper).  I think I'll scan the character sheets or something at the end of the Story Hour (5 sessions to go) so people can see the final forms of the surviving characters.

I even have Ming and Ilsa's sheets(at point-of-death) and I think I have the Greywarden, Black Carriage, and Crystal Towers affiliations(3.5 PHB2 compatible).

ALOT happens in the next five sessions though, so it'll probably be half-a-year of posts before we get to that point.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 26, Part 3

<Note: Iron DM is over, back to our regularly scheduled programming.>

"So, what's our plan again? We just waiting until some giant undead bat attacks us in the middle of the night?" Kormak said, gesturing out at the rapidly setting sun.

Harold walked over to the door of the Skyland's peak temple. "When it attacks, I'll take care of it. I'll be hidden outside so I can get a clear shot on it."

"How are you going to see once it's dark?" Kormak said as the archer walked around the side of the temple. He turned to Bail. "How's he going to see once it's dark?"

The half-dragon grunted and turned to Suniel. "What if it summons more of those spectral dead like the last one did?  Those were almost worse than it was."

"I have some wards I can use now that I know what we're expecting. I should be able to keep them at bay as long as we stay inside the monastery."

"Should we let Harold know?" Kormak said.

"Would he come if we did?" Bail said.

"I already told him," Suniel said. "He said he wasn't worried about it since he dispatched those six single-handed at point-blank range in his tree."

"We have any idea what this thing is that we are expecting?" Kormak said.

"I got some descriptions from others who have spotted it flying about the outskirts of the Crystal Towers," Suniel said. "From those descriptions, Keeper seemed to piece together what it was."

They turned to the construct that stood staring at the minutely-detailed carving of Felskein that was the only major adornment of the temple's main chamber. He looked up at them, eyes flickering and sparking.  

 “It is most likely a Nightwing.  In short, it is a flying version of what killed Bail yesterday,” Keeper said.

 “Thanks for the reminder,” Bail said.

 “Wait, wasn't that other one flying too?  I distinctly remember there being flying involved,” Kormak said.

 “And falling, on Harold's part,” Bail said with a chuckle.  “I think he means this one has wings.”

 “Wait, who actually killed that last one again?” Kormak said.  “Wasn't that... oh, that's right, it was-”

 “I think it's best if we set watches... or listens, I guess, since we're probably not going to be able to see a thing tonight,” Suniel said, gesturing to the fading white-gray of the overcast sky.  “That last one caught us off guard, we don't want a repeat performance.”

 “Never happen, we got this easy,” Kormak said, waving a dismissive hand in Suniel's direction.  “It won't ever see it coming.”

 ***

 The Sandwatch Tavern was quiet, as it had been since the Ashen Towers assault began.  Only a few men too old to fight sat at the bar, squinting at a rat scurrying about in the street and arguing about whether it the rat was living or one of the dead ones.

 Suddenly, an elf in tattered brown robes, a giant half-dragon with a massive sword and a shattered suit of armor, a battered and rusty construct with a lightning shield and sword of light, and an ugly dwarf appeared in the middle of the tavern, smashing into a couple tables and sending chairs flying in all directions.

 The old men stared agape as the strange newcomers pulled themselves to their feet, cursing.

 “Everyone make it?” the elf said, glancing around at the others.

 “Everyone that matters,” the half-dragon said.

 “I am intact,” said the construct.

 They all looked at the dwarf as he pulled himself to his feet stiffly, brushed himself off, then looked up at them.

 “Well... _that_ sure worked,” the dwarf said, walking over to the old men and swiping the tankard from the still-stunned farmer.  “Hope that Nightwing enjoys its flying island.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 26, Part 4

<Short post since I didn't realize how little there was left in this session.  Technically, there's only 4 sessions left, but my notes for these last few sessions take up 1/4 of the google-doc I have them in...>

Harold was caught by surprise, a wraith rising out of the ground beside him and grabbing onto his leg with an icy grip.  He fired an arrow at it point-blank and drove it off, but others were soon swarming around him.  He dropped his bow, drew his sword, and slashed his way through the shadows and wraiths that  seemed to be rising out of everywhere.

 He made his way towards the front of the monastery, but saw an even larger throng of the spectral dead pressing against gold-glowing wards that blocked the monastery doorway.  There was no way to get in there.  Suddenly a deathly chill stuck him and his muscles locked up.  He fought it until his muscles ached, the dead closing in on him from the darkness.

Just as one of the living shadows reached him, its umbral hands reaching for his throat, he shook off the paralyzing chill  and staggered away.  Something huge and dark swooped down from the shadows, black foot-long claws slashing into his back and sending him rolling down the path of the mountainous Skyland.  He pulled himself to his feet, disoriented and wracked with pain.

He saw the others fighting at the entrance to the temple and suddenly the protective wards failed.  As he watched, the winged terror swooped down and tore Bail's rune-forged armor right off the half-dragon.  As dark things closed in on all sides, Harold swung wildly until his hand was caught in an icy, insubstantial grip that held it like iron._There's too many of them_, he thought as his sword fell from his hands.

 Cold deeper than winter worked its way up his arm and his knees buckled.  The spectral dead danced around him, hands extended towards him like frostbitten beggars around a bonfire.  A soft, malevolent voice rasped across his brain.

-Give up the stone-

 “Never!” Suniel shouted.

 -Give up the stone or die-

 Harold tried to shout his defiance but only a whisper escaped his lips.

Suniel gestured and, with a flicker, Harold's companions disappeared.

The giant shadowy beast – a massive, bat-winged nightmare – turned on him, its eyes glowing like coals.

 “They got away from you, Thessalock-spawn,” Harold whispered as his life-energy slowly drained away into the creatures of darkness.  “The Crystal Towers will never fall.”

 -But you die here-

 It's massive claws pierced Harold through in half-a-dozen places, but he died laughing his defiance.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 27, Part 1

 Magister Archeras was the last person Suniel expected to walk in the door to the small inn in which they were staying.  He stood quickly and bowed, but Archeras waved him off and took a seat at Suniel's table near the inn's small fire.

 “I heard a rumor that you were here,” Archeras said, extending his hands towards the fire.  “Chilly out there.”

 “A rumor?” Suniel said.

 Archeras smiled, but it quickly faded.  “Something went wrong with the Skyland and I'm guessing it had to do with the Ashen Towers.”

 Suniel didn't bother asking how Archeras knew.  He nodded.  “We were attacked by one of Thessalock's terrors, a huge shadow creature-”

 “His Nightwing.”

 “-that attacked us, along with a swarm of lesser shades and shadows.  They took the Skyland and killed Free Agent Harold.”

 Archeras stared at the fire, taking in the news.  “So now Thessalock has the Skyland?”

 “He does.  Is there something you can do about it?”

 “Sadly no,” Archeras said.  “Thessalock's Liches will return at any moment and I need to be on hand immediately to counter them or the devastation they will unleash will be terrible.”

 Archeras threw another small log on the fire and they stared at it in silence for several minutes.

 “I heard of you when you were Master Au, arcanist of the Ashen Towers and partner of Thessalock.”

 Suniel tensed as Archeras spoke, but didn't move.  He relaxed slowly as Archeras continued to stare into the fire.

 “You were as powerful as Thessalock in those days and I see that you are regaining much of your previous power.”

 It was more of a statement than a question, but Suniel nodded anyway, unsure of where the Crystal Tower's master wizard was going.

 “While I'm not sure of where your capabilities are at now, I do have the kernel of an idea you might build upon...”

 ***

The Skyland floated deeper into the Endless Sands as dawn approached.  The Nightwing encased itself in a globe of darkness to shield it from the hateful light of the day and settled into its perch atop the temple.  The shadows and wraiths had gone back to the dark places in which they dwelled, awaiting their master's call.  The Nightwing brooded over its prize, satisfied.

 Suddenly an brown-robed figure appeared near the fallen body of the human the Nightwing had slain.  The wizard from the night before.  Alone.

The Nightwing spread its wings, ready to claim the soul of another of the weaklings that the Master was crushing, but the wizard knelt down and grabbed the body and looked down the Skyland's mountain path towards the Air Henge.  The Nightwing instantly knew what was going to happen and launched into the air.

 There was a flicker of blue and the wizard and his companion disappeared, reappearing just outside the Henge.  The Nightwing launched a spell as it dove, but the impenetrable wardings around the Henge absorbed it.  The wizard grabbed the True Stone from its cradle in the center of the Henge, lifted it free, and lunged to grab its companion as the Skyland suddenly began plummeting towards the Sands.

 The Nightwing extended its claws, to catch and crush the wizard before it could get away.  The wizard grabbed its companion in its free hand and looked up at the Nightwing.  A faint smile appeared on the elf's face as the Nightwing fell towards it.

 Scything claws raked across empty stone, sending chips flying in all directions, then lifted away and beat its wings, pure hatred flowing through it as it watched the Skyland fall to the Endless Sands, it's prey vanished.

 ***

 Hundreds of miles away, Suniel appeared in the small chapel where High Cleric Granath was waiting.

 “This is the last time I will be doing this,” Granath said as he took Harold's body and laid it upon the plain stone altar.

 “With any luck, this is the last time we will be needing you to,” Suniel said.  “We'll be back to get Harold later today.”

 Granath grumbled “wizards” as the elf vanished again, then turned to his task.


----------



## Sanzuo

Arg, I thought I posted this earlier today but apparently I'm schizophrenic.

Just for fun I started making the Rise of Felskein characters as 4e npc blocks.  They have been rebalanced and, well, 4e-ized but I've tried to keep the spirit of the character the same based on his actions and abilities during the campaign.

I'm doing this purely based on my memories, so remember that this is a different edition.  I'm just imagining meeting these guys as NPCs in some future campaign.

First up is Bail.  I'll post more in the future.

[sblock]






Bail was kind of difficult and took some creativity on my part.  The only thing I really remember him doing most of the time was healing with his totem and hitting stuff with his sword. (He never even fought the stuff I designed him to fight in the first place!)

I added a mark ability because it seemed appropriate for his role.  Also a breath weapon which he had, but didn't use that often.
[/sblock]


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 27, Part 2


 Kormak and Bail stopped cold and stared at Suniel.

 “You seem to have another True Stone,” Bail said, walking over towards the table where Suniel sat.

 “Was there one lying around the village that we missed?” Kormak said, looking under tables and chairs as he followed Bail.  “Could be another one anywhere!”

“It's from the Skyland,” Suniel said, glancing up briefly before returning to staring at the Stone.  Their clothing was ruffled by the constant swirling gust that the stone produced.

“Oh, so you just went back there and picked it up?” Kormak said.

“Something like that.”

Just then Granath walked in, followed closely by Harold.  “... two dozen, that's all I need.” Harold was saying.

Bail just stared and Kormak's mouth fell open.  “Isn't he dead?  I thought we agreed that he died.”

“You just picked him up too?” Bail said dryly.

“Something like that.”

“All right Trisdon.  If you were any other Agent on any other mission, I'd say no,” Magister Granath said.  “I'll write up a writ so you can conscript whoever you need.”

Harold saluted Granath's back as the High Cleric walked out the door muttering to himself, then walked over to the table where the others sat.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Kormak said.  “How was dead?”

As usual, Harold ignored the dwarf, instead looking at Suniel and the True Stone.  “What is the plan now?  I've been making plans for the further defense of the Crystal Towers, but Magister Granath informs me that getting the True Stones is the highest priority.”

“Finally,” Bail grumbled.

Harold ignored that as well.  “Suniel, are you listening?”

“What?  Oh, a plan?” Suniel looked up at the group as if seeing them for the first time.  “I think the plan is fairly simple.  We have two artifacts here, so we'll head back to the Skyland and use them to destroy the Nightwing.  Then we can put the Air Stone back in the Henge and fly the Skyland off to find the next True Stone.”

“Which is the Aboleth stone?” Bail said.

“Or we could go for the Fire Stone.” Harold said.

“Oh, right, the Fire Stone,” Kormak said.  “What Fire Stone?”

“The one that Guntl told us about when we picked him up.  We didn't know what it was at the time, but there's a certain Captain Pyresail or whatever his name was that rules Gantry with it,” Suniel said.  He made a dismissive gesture.  “I think the True Stone of Water is the next one we should focus on.  We know where it is and what has it.  Besides, now we have the True Stone of Lightning to help us claim it.”

“Great, so when do we start?” Kormak said.

“Tomorrow,” Suniel said.  “I need time to recover my strength and study the Air Stone.”

“And I need time to ride to the Capitol and put some plans in action,” Harold said.

“Might I suggest we use a bit more caution this time?” Bail said.  He pointed to himself, then Harold.  “After all, two of us have _died_ in nearly as many days.”

“I could scout out the Skyland tomorrow.  Who knows, maybe the Nightwing abandoned it,” Suniel said.  “Not as useful when it's just a big hunk of rock in the Sands.”

“So, if its not there, you can just get it and fly it back,” Harold said, nodding.  “And if it is there, we can assault it.”

“That is the plan then, unless anyone has objections?”  Everyone exchanged glances.  Kormak started to speak but everyone stood up and Harold cut the dwarf off before he was even able to speak.

“I will return in two days with reinforcements then,” Harold said, leaving before anyone could say anything further.

“I'll go see if I can find some new armor,” Bail said, following the human out.

“I'm going to study this in my carriage,” Suniel said, following the half-dragon.

“Well...” Kormak said, watching the others leave.  “Two days?”

“I'll write up a report on all of this.”  He reached into his back, pulled out a sheet of paper, and looked around to see that no one was looking before tapping his tattoo.  He was just finishing writing as the Barkeep walked in from the kitchen and glanced his way.

Kormak motioned to the barkeep as he wrote.  _And, in final news to report,_ he scribbled._  I'm going to get really, really drunk._


----------



## Sanzuo

Next up is Kormak

[sblock]





Kormak was more fun to make.  He had a few interesting gimmicks from what I remember from the campaign.  I realize the monk is more of a skirmisher archetype but Kormak was definitely more of a brute.  Being a brute he can have a hard time hitting targets, so I gave him the string of insults power because it's in-character and to give him a better chance and let him focus on one target at a time.

[/sblock]


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 27, Part 3


 “Throw another log on the fire, if I'm going to be dead tonight I want to be warm today,” Kormak said.

 Bail shrugged and tossed a massive log into the fire with one hand.

 Harold and half-a-dozen Crystal Towers soldiers sat at their own table in the small tavern, while Bail, Keeper, Kormak and Suniel sat at another.  The day was particularly chill and the tavern drafty, so both tables were pulled close to the fireplace.

 “Who are these guys again?” Kormak said, gesturing towards Harold's entourage.

 “These are my men,” Harold said.  “They will be assisting me in our upcoming mission.”

 “Mission?” Kormak said.  “Never heard it called that before.  What we're actually doing is attacking the beastie that stole our island so we can get murdered.”

 Harold's men exchanged questioning, slightly worried glances.  “Ignore the dwarf,” Bail said then turned to Suniel.  “What is the plan?”

 “Yesterday I visited the sight of the fallen Skyland, as we talked of earlier,” Suniel said, his voice soft enough that everyone leaned in to hear.  “It sat upside down in the Sands with a globe of unnatural darkness atop it.”

 “So the creature is still there?” Bail said.

 “Yes, or it was yesterday.  It may have left in the mean time,” Suneil said.

 “Well, if it has, then our job will be a lot easier,” Bail said.  “Just dig through the Sands to the henge and put the Stone back in it.”

 “How many can you take?” Harold said.

 “I can transport us plus four of your men.”

 “Three and me,” Velea said, walking in the doorway of the tavern.

 “She's coming?” Kormak said.  “Why's she coming?”

 “I am not entirely without worth should it come to fighting,” she said, stepping into one shadow and stepping out of another half-way across the room.

 “That's neat,” Kormak said.  “Do that again.”

 “So us plus three of your men,” Suniel said.  “I'll show you how to draw the energy of the lightning stone and unleash it.  We can fill that Nightwing's black sphere of hiding with lightning, then if it flies out, we'll knock it out of the air with the True Stone of Air.”

 “Will the Skyland still fly after falling to the Sands?” Bail said, turning to Velea.

 The seeress nodded and took a seat at the table.  “The temple might be ruined, but the Skyland itself should still be intact.”

 “Excellent, let's go kill that thing then,” Kormak said, standing up.  The others stood as well and followed Suniel out of the tavern.

***

An hour later, they stood in the Endless Sands, staring at the craggy, lightning-scorched underside of the Skyland that jutted up before them.

 “Did we kill it?” Kormak said.

 Suniel chanted and gestured and the Nightwing's sphere of darkness burned away like fog in the noon-day sun.  The Skyland was bare.

"If you'd done that before we blasted it, we wouldn't have wasted the True Stone's energies," Kormak said.

"Taking the time to do that might have given it time to get away," Suniel said.

 “Regardless, it either got away or was already gone,” Bail said, staring up at the dark clouds.

 “Keep on guard,” Suniel said.  “Harold, you and Velea want to scout ahead and see if we can get this thing flying again?”

 Harold nodded and he and the seeress trudged across the Sands, the others watching warily for signs of the Nightwing.


----------



## Sanzuo

Harold!

[sblock]





I think I captured the essence of Harold in this block.  Basically being really effing hard to catch and shooting millions of arrows.  I just had the at-wills at first but I felt he needed something else.  I gave him the floating armor gimmick because of all the abilities he had this is the one that pissed me off the most.  Notice that he also has the ability to walk through walls anytime he wants.

Harold is a murder-machine.

[/sblock]


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 27, Part 4

 <Note: Tough week - hanging drywall is harder than it looks.  Hence the late, short post.  On the plus side, I'll be posting again tomorrow, so posts two days in a row>

Harold approached the fallen Skyland warily, expecting attack at any moment.  Somehow, it seemed much larger for some reason lying in the sand than it did floating in the sky.

 “Looks bigger when you have something to compare it to, doesn't it?” Velea said, as if reading his mind.  “It still seems half-a-dream that that is actually Felskein on the horizon back there.”

 “A year ago, I wouldn't have believed that islands can fly,” Harold said.

She smiled and they continued their circuit around Skyland, circling to the side towards which the top had fallen.

 “The Sands bother me,” Velea said, glancing down at the lightly-snow-dusted sand.  “Every once in a while, I feel the sand stir, like something is moving just beneath my feet.”

 Harold nodded.  “I feel it too.  Like the vision in the pool...”

 “Yes,” Velea said.  “The Grimwythe.  It lays trapped just beneath the Endless Sands.  They say if you stand in one place too long, they can reach closer and closer to the surface, until finally they can reach you and pull you under.”

 Harold grunted and quickened his pace a bit.

 “There!  We're in luck, looks like that's part of the Henge sticking out there,” Velea said, pointing to a dull blue gleam in the sand where the Skyland lay half-buried.  “I'll go get the others, we can dig it out and be back on our way to the mainland within the hour!”

 ***

They sat among the ruins of the monastery, everyone but Bail huddled deep into their cloaks against the cold.  The speed of the Skyland only made the cutting wind worse.

“I think I'm about to freeze to this rock I'm sitting on,” Kormak said, teeth chattering.  “I came prepared for a fight, not a freezing cold night-long flight through the dark.  I feel like we're flying through an empty void.”

 Only the faint purplish glow in the clouds over the Crystal Towers and the lights that Suniel had summoned provided any light at all.

 “Is it just me or is it moving faster than it did before?” Suniel said, glancing at Velea.

 The seeress nodded.  “Aside from all the buildings being gone, some pieces broke off when it hit the Sands.  They weren't large and if you hadn't lived pretty much your whole life on this Skyland, you probably wouldn't even notice.  We also have a bit of a tailwind.”

 “Nice of that thing to give our Skyland back anyway,” Kormak said.  “It already has flight innately, seems a bit unfair that it tried to take ours away.”

 “I have the feeling that it's not gone,” Harold said, staring up at the black sky.

 “Indeed,” Keeper said, walking away from the group and pointing to the sky.

A blast of cold so intense it had to be magical shattered the construct, the swirling cold enveloping everyone else as they reached for their weapons.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 27, Part 5

This time it would catch all its prey.  The caster had again warded itself and many of the others from the Nightwing's minions, so the Nightwing focused on him.  Unfortunately, the wizard quickly surrounded himself in other, stronger wardings and the Nightwing's magics glanced off him harmlessly.

 As the enemy scattered to avoid the Nightwing's attacks and to face the wraiths and shadows that were emerging from the Skyland on every side, the Nightwing dove at the isolated wizard.  It dropped for the kill, falling from the darkness towards the lone figure.  

The wizard looked up when the Nightwing was less than twenty feet above it, but to the Nightwing's surprise there was no fear in the eyes that looked up at him.  A second later, the Nightwing saw why.

 A Truestone was held in its upraised hand, wind swirling around it.  Just as the Nightwing extended its claws to tear the wizard apart, the stone flared and the Nightwing was hurled sideways to slam into the rocky ground.  

It immediately furled its wings to claw for the sky, but a squat form slammed into one wing, pinning it to the ground.  It turned and slashed the figure off of its wing and tried to lift off again, but arrows slammed into the other wing, pinning it to the Nightwing's side.

 It swung its wing back hard, breaking the arrow shafts, and planted its wing to launch.  It looked up just in time to see the burly half-dragon whose armor it had destroyed before leaping through the air, adamantine sword glinting in the mage-light before burying into the Nightwing's head.

 ***

 “Everyone alive?” Bail said, staring down at the black ichor dissolving into black smoke off of his blade.

 “That went a bit better than last time,” Kormak said, prodding the Nightwing's slowly dissolving corpse.

 “Keeper didn't make it,” Suniel said softly, kneeling over the broken remains of the construct.

 “My men are alive,” Harold said.  “But all of them are hurt.”

 “I'm fine,” Velea said, backing slowly away from the nightmarish body.  “Though I hope I never see another of those as long as I live.”

 “I hope so too, since you seem to be spending a lot of time with us lately,” Kormak said.

 “That's two of them we've killed now,” Bail said.  “Let's hope that we don't have to take on a third.”

 “Two of them killed, two of us killed,” Kormak said.  “Don't like the exchange rate.”

 “Three of us,” Suniel said, gathering up Keeper's broken pieces.  “Keeper is a person as well.”

 “He rebuilds a bit easier than we do,” Kormak said.  “Can't exactly use scrap metal on us.”

 “That cleric managed to bring you two back,” Suniel said, pointing at Bail and Harold.

 “Lets hope whatever this thing dissolves into doesn't drift off to the Ashen Towers so Thessalock can bring _it_ back,” Harold said, gesturing at the swirling cloud of shadow and smoke over the half-vanished corpse of the Nightwing.

 “I think not,” Suniel said, staring off to the north.  “Wherever these came from, they are far too powerful for even Thessalock to bring back.”

 They all glanced north towards where, somewhere beyond the horizon, the Ashen Tower sat on its own pinnacle of rock, looming over the Endless Sands as they flew onwards towards the Crystal Towers.


----------



## Sanzuo

Suniel!

[sblock]





Suniel had a lot of tricks up his sleeve.  It's really difficult to capture the full majesty of a high level 3e wizard on a 4e monster stat block.  I gave him a couple interesting abilities and one really powerful one.  It's the closest 4e comes to an instant kill.

[/sblock]


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 1

They climbed the Wall to join Harold amidst the black shadows of dawn and stared down at the countless walking dead that climbed unrelentingly over the bodies of the fallen. The Corpse Ramp had reached up to within twenty feet of the top of the Wall, the dead climbing over each other and pulling each other down like lobsters in a pot. Their endless moan made Kormak shudder every time he heard it.

 “Not looking to good,” Kormak said, leaning over the battlements.  “Not sounding or smelling good for that matter either.”

 “That's about to change,” Harold said.  The archer looked down the length of the Wall and shouted, “White Fire, ready!”

 An acolyte in white robes began chanting to Kormak's right, and other down the Wall to his left.  Pale white flames danced in the Acolyte's hands and the squad of archers near each one stuck their arrowheads into the flame.  A second later, faint curls of white fire danced around their arrowheads.

Harold raised his hand and all down the wall archers nocked their flaming arrows and drew.

 “Fire!”

 Ten thousand arrows flew and embedded themselves in the dead and the corpses of the Ramp.  Everywhere they hit, the white flames smoldered, then caught until the Corpse Ramp was a raging pillar of flame that rose a hundred feet into the night sky, illuminating the swirling black clouds with a sickly white glow.  Eerily, the fire made no sound and put off no heat.

 Kormak slowly extended his hand towards the churning wall of fire, winced, and thrust his hand into it.  He jerked his hand back instinctively, looked it over and stuck his whole arm in.  He glanced back to see Suniel and Bail staring at him.  He stuck his whole head in then pulled it out.  “Guess you guys know I'm not a zombie now anyway.”

 “There never was any doubt,” Suniel said, shaking his head.

 “Except for the smell,” Bail said, without even looking in Kormak's direction.

 “The Crystal Towers is safe now,” Harold said, staring into the white fire.  

Cheering started somewhere on the Wall and quickly every exhausted soldier on the Wall had pulled themselves to their feet and joined in.

“Are you sure of that?” Suniel said.  “Best not tell the men and spread false hope until you're sure.”

Harold turned on Suniel, anger flashing in his eyes.  “Do you not see?  Thessalock's Corpse Ramp is gone.  The flames will burn the bodies to ash and destroy any of the walking dead that come into contact with it.  The Ashen Towers is defeated here.”

They turned and watched the fires slowly subside, dwindling rapidly from the silent, cold inferno to a scattering of minor blazes.  The Corpse Ramp was gone, in its place a drift of black ash streaming away in the chill wind.

A runner pushed his way through the cheering throngs, bending over to gasp for breath when he reached them.  “Free Agent... Harold?” he gasped.

Harold turned and nodded, tension visibly returning to his body.

 “The Wall... breached in four places...”

 “What?” Harold said, reaching for his bow.

_As if that will do anything,_ Kormak thought.  _What's he going to do, kill the messenger?_

 “Something had tunneled under... when the Corpse Ramp went... Wall collapsed out...  pulling back to the Fortresses and the Spires.”

 Suniel put a hand on Harold's shoulder.  “You did what you could.  Now the best thing we can do it get the Stones.”

 Harold shrugged Suniel's hand off his shoulder, but didn't move.  He just stood, staring at the bow in his grip helplessly as the ash swirled about them.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 2

“Mage-Captain Ahara destroyed it,” the soldier said, pointing to the half-leveled building in the town square.

“What exactly was it?” Harold said.

“We're pretty sure it was a plaguewalker, we found traces of a faint yellow slime all around the village and the last one we left.  There was an outbreak in the other village too.”  The Sergeant glanced at Harold, his expression darkening.  “What's the word from the Wall?”

“It's overrun.  They're pulling back to the Fortresses.”

The expressions on Harold's men's faces fell, though, to their credit, hard determination quickly replaced despair.

“That means your job to hunt down any more of these plaguewalkers is even more important,” Harold said.  “Last thing the Crystal Towers needs is a second front.”

“Yes sir.”

Harold walked back to Bail and Kormak, dark thoughts gnawing at him.  “Any idea when Suniel is going to be back?”

“Do you even know where he went?” Kormak said.

Harold shook his head.  “I just know he went off to fix Keeper.”

“He pulled out a strange door-knob, stuck it into the air, and opened a door to a... another place, like a big coach house, black carriages coming and going, people in robes bustling everywhere, white and blue lights floating here and there.  The sky was pure black, not a star in the sky.”

“Maybe that's the heart of the Black Carriage he talks about from time to time?” Bail said.

“Well, while he's occupied there fixing Keeper, that gives us time to hunt down-”

“No,” Bail said, shaking his head.  “The True Stones.”

Harold glared at the half-dragon.  “We might be the only ones that can find whatever it is that's tunneling under-”

“No,” Kormak said, mimicking Bail's stance, expression, and tone exactly.  “The True Stones.”

“So you are going to just let the Crystal Towers fall?”  Harold said, nearly shouting.  “Is that what you want?”

“No,” Bail said flatly.  “I want to stop the entire continent – the entire world – from falling.  Iron Sky will do that if we don't stop them.”

“Well, if we leave now, Suniel will be left behind,” Harold said, his tone defensive.

Bail shook his head again.  “He went of to his... _otherplace_... from the Skyland.  If we take the Skyland, he'll return there.”

“Besides, he could just teleport to us anyway,” Kormak added.

“Face it, Harold, even your own Magister said the best thing you could do would be to get the True Stones,” Bail said.  “You've seen what one can do, if we find more...”

Harold raised his hands.  “Fine, fine.  We'll go.  Load up the Skyland.  I'm going to gather my Honor Guard and take them with.”

Kormak quirked an eyebrow.  “Your Honor Guard?”

“If we're going to take my Skyland on your True Stone mission, then we're going to make a few stops along the way.”

“Your Skyland?” Kormak said.

“Stops?” Bail said.

Harold ignored them and returned to his men.  

An hour later, he rode at the head of a dozen hand-picked soldiers, pushing hard for the main Crystal Tower.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 3

<Note: Remarkable how much easier the writing flows when there is a spark of inspiration behind it. Some days the muses are with me and other days the words seem forced. Some parts of the story really appeal to me more than others as well. Today was one of the easy days. Enjoy.>

They were a quarter of the way along the Span, having taken a long detour to avoid the worst of the literal clouds of flying dead – ravens and bats mostly – that still swarmed around the Span Wall, when a door suddenly opened from nowhere near the motley collection of tents they had set up atop the Skyland.

Keeper walked out and nodded to Bail, Kormak, and Harold in turn. “Suniel invites you to the Black Coach House, heart of the Black Carriage.”

“Gotta be better than watching the depressing ruins on the Span pass by,” Kormak said, walking past the construct like Keeper hadn't been in pieces a couple days before. _Amazing what you can get used to_, Bail thought.

He grunted and followed the dwarf, but Harold just looked at the door suspiciously, muttering something about “wizards”.

Bail and Kormak stopped just inside the door, glancing around at the black-cobbled courtyard of a massive high-walled compound. Before them was the main house, an imposing five-story structure of black brick. To their right and left leading up to it were dozens of large nooks, many of which had black carriages similar to Suniel's sitting in them.

Behind them was a wall lined with dozens of identical plain doors. Kormak walked over to one and opened it. There was nothing but wall behind it, unlike theirs with Keeper and the Skyland on the other side.

There was a constant bustle of activity in the Coach House; carriages coming and going, apprentices and other followers running this way and that on errands, minor magics and invisible servants flitting about, and here and there what had to be wizards bickering, arguing, reading, chanting spells, discussing prices of potions, inscriptions, spells, and reagents, inspecting carriages, and a dozen other wizardly activities besides.

As he and Kormak watched, a gray-haired human woman in a threadbare blue robe tossed a sack up onto a coach bench, hauled herself up after it, and pulled a pair of reins from her robe. She flicked them out before her, two dark horses flashing into existence at the end of the leads and the straps and buckles of the carriage's hitch and harness instantly latching themselves onto the steeds like some strange animate vines.

The woman flicked the reins and the horses instantly thundered ahead, straight for Kormak and Bail.

Bail snarled and readied himself to leap out of the way, but the carriage – horses, woman, coach, and all – suddenly vanished not ten feet in front of them.

“I wonder what Suniel's role in this madhouse is?” Kormak said, scratching himself as they slowly walked through the chaos.

“I am what you might call the Headmaster,” Suniel said, appearing beside them with a faint smile.

“You run this place?” Bail said, sizing up the nondescript, soft-spoken little elf again.

“It looks like no one is running it,” Kormak said. “It looks more like an asylum than wizard school.”

“It's not exactly a school, though I have begun teaching apprentices like the ones back on the other side of the Span,” Suniel said, leading them through the wide double doors of the main entrance to a vast hall with a long wide table running down the middle and a twenty-foot wide hearth blazing and radiating heat through the whole room. Along the walls were massive floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with sliding ladders and a motley array of cushioned seats, couches, small tables, benches, and stools. The same assortment of characters as outside loitered, read, wrote, napped, bickered, ate, and drank.

The table in the center drew Bail's attention the most, however, for down its center was an array of dishes, plates, pitchers, and platters laden with a veritable feast that the rooms occupants largely ignored. Bail's stomach grumbled as the smells from the food wafted towards them, made even more alluring by their gobbled down meals of dry rations in the past few hard-pressed week.

Suniel smiled and gestured towards an empty spot near the fire. “Eat as much as you like, the food is as real as this place is.”

“How real is this place exactly?” Kormak said as he ambled ahead of Bail towards the fire, rubbing his cloth-wrapped hands and peeling off layers as he approached the cheery fire. The vagaries of heat and cold didn't bother Bail due to his draconic heritage so, in spite of Kormak's constant, mostly-ignored complaints, Bail often forgot about the weather.

He settled down and grabbed a wooden trencher, loading it up with a slab of roast beef, a massive scoop of mashed potatoes with a thick slice of butter, a small round of cheese and thick bread, a steaming bowl of stew, and a cluster of small round fruits that he vaguely remembered being called grapes. He also poured himself a tankard of some golden, earthy-smelling drink that he couldn't immediately identify.

“What is this place for?” Kormak said, waving his arm to encompass everything before returning to extending his stout arms and legs towards the fire.

“It is the heart of the Black Carriage,” Suniel said. “It is the result of much long labor on my part and it is warming to see so much life here after all that I went through to create it.”

“Right. So, what is this place for?”

Suniel smiled as a two halfling children raced past them to ladle a thick sweet-smelling liquid from one of the many cauldrons bubbling in the fire. “I call it hot chocolate. My variation on something one of the Carriage members brought back from his travels. Try some Kormak, it'll help warm you up.”

Bail watched the dwarf ladle himself a mug-full and sip it as he reached for seconds of everything. “Get me one of those too,” he said around a mouthful of food.

“The Carriages travel all across Felskein. We are a diverse array of wizards, sorcerers, mages, warlocks, witches, gypsies, and tinkers that sell our crafts across the whole of the continent,” Suniel said, accepting a mug of hot chocolate from Kormak with a nod. “You have seen much of my wares; potions and tinctures, balms and charms, ointments and medicines. We make some small profits, yes, but it mostly about the little goodnesses that we can bring to the people of Felskein. The people's lives are hard and even the littlest magics can help bring some small light and hope to their lives.

“And this is _our_ sanctuary, in a place that is no place, accessible only by members of the Black Carriage itself, a little pocket world I created out of the deepest depths of nothingness that lies beyond the stars. Here there is room for all and food for all, there is warmth, friendship, a wealth of knowledge from across the world...” he gestured at the bookshelves and glanced over at the main doors where Harold and his men stood in the doorway, faces grim, hands on their weapons as the looked about them suspiciously.

Suniel's expression darkened and his voice grew so soft Bail had to stop chewing to hear as the elf gestured in Harold's direction.

”And mostly, _here_ is the locus of my small bid for Redemption for the evils I unwittingly helped create. If the first half of my life was dedicated – intentionally or not – to deepening the darkness of the world, then let the last half of it be dedicated to creating a thousand tiny points of light to keep the night at bay so that one day perhaps the lights will join and the places of light will shine brightly enough to burn away the dark entirely.

“That is what the Black Carriage is.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 4

 With Bail curled up in a ball in front of the fire, snoring, Harold's soldiers reclining on benches, drinking and joking around, and Suniel holding a laid-back, bantering arcane debate with a group of his wizards, it was easy for Kormak to forget what was going on in the real world.  Though he sat on his own staring into the fire, even Harold seemed relatively relaxed.

How easy it would be to just stay here in the warmth and companionship of pocket-dimension of the Coach House, let the world beyond do what it would.

 The iron contract he had signed with his Order a decade ago in that tiny hill-top stone monastery looking up at the towering Landspear, the core of steel hidden at the heart of Kormak, meant any such thoughts were mere idle fantasy.  He could dream though.

 Some day this would all be over and the world wouldn't need the hidden, guiding hands of the Order's Elders propping up civilization.  Kormak had to believe that.  Though he'd never let it on to his companions, he was getting too old for running around dodging spells, ducking swords and claws, and breaking bones – his and others'.

 He settled deeper into the comfort of his thickly-padded chair tucked away near one of the massive shelves, surrounded by the pleasant smells of parchment and leather.  He was at the very edge of drifting off to a nap, when Harold suddenly stood up, the scraping of benches as his soldiers did likewise grating out all other noise in the room.

 “We should be near the Span now, back to work men,” Harold said, walking off towards the main doors without another word.

 To their credit, his men didn't grumble and complain.  Just finished their drinks, wrapped themselves up tightly in their cloaks, and cast parting glances at the fire before following their commander out. Kormak just barely caught Velea the Seer flitting from one shadow to the next behind Harold.  She could literally disappear into the shadows and so Kormak often forgot she was around.  Why she had chosen Harold to follow was beyond Kormak, but he supposed he choosing him or Bail would have been even more bizarre.

 Kormak roused himself and yawned as he took a seat on one of the just-vacated benches by the fire.  Bail had one eye open, cat-like, watching Harold and his men leave.

 “What was that about 'nearing the Span'?” Kormak said.

 “His people said something about getting building materials from one of the abandoned cities or towns on the Spire,” Bail said.  “Make a fort or something on the Skyland.  Meh.”

 Bail's eye closed and the half-dragon went back to sleep.  A minute later, Suniel sat down next to Kormak on the bench.

“Makes it all seem kinda unreal out there doesn't it?” Suniel said, gesturing at the last of Harold's unit leaving the Coach House.

“How do you ever leave this place?” Kormak said.  “Did you really make this?”

Suniel smiled.  “Elves don't sleep.  Need something to do alone in the Carriage while everyone else slumbers.”

“Most people do something very different from carving out pocket-worlds when they are alone during the night,” Kormak said, quirking an eyebrow at Suniel.

Suniel either missed or ignored the innuendo, staring deeply into the fire.  “I had a family once, so long ago it seems like another lifetime.  My wife was human, and so there was ever-present worry about the future as her age seemed to rapidly advance and mine barely crept forward.  And Thessalock... she and our children were what made me realize what I was really doing at the Ashen Tower.”

 Kormak sat with Suniel in silence for a moment, for once no snarky comment springing to his tongue.

 “Thessalock was a visionary, probing the bounds of our reality.  It was he who directed the course of my research, his shining vision that both of us strove for,” Suniel shook his head.  “It wasn't until I saw my wife's terror, saw my children cry at his mere presence – well, and the things that began to lurk in the shadows around him, all furtive movements and glinting red eyes...”

 “Well, look on the bright side,” Kormak said.  “You have something much bigger and more terrifying to worry about so you don't even have to think about him once we finally get away from the Crystal Towers and can start running from Iron Sky.”

 Suniel rolled his eyes.  “What a relief.”

 “Any time.”

 “Is there somewhere else you could go to talk?” Bail said, one eye opening.  “If you didn't notice, there's a half-dragon trying to sleep here.”

 “I suppose one of us should probably go keep an eye on where Harold is taking us in the real world,” Kormak said with a sigh.

 “Keeper is,” Suniel said.

 “Well, might not be a bad idea to keep an eye on him... it... as well,” Kormak said.  “Regardless of what how it's been  so far and how much you seem to trust it, it _is_ still part of Iron Sky.”

 “I've heard a saying you people have, something about letting sleeping dragons lie,” Bail said.  “There's a reason for this saying.”

 “All right, all right, I'm going already,” Kormak said, shaking his head as he walked away.  “Touchy, touchy.”

 When he reached the doors, he glanced back a final time to see Bail back asleep, Suniel sitting quietly nearby, staring into the fire over steepled fingertips.


----------



## Tamlyn

Whew, just caught up. I stumbled across this a week ago and have been loving it. I really like how the world is completely unique and has depth. Well done. I'm enjoying it.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 5

<Note: Glad you enjoyed it Tamlyn!  It's strange, but knowing that even a couple people are enjoying it makes it all worthwhile.>

 Keeper confirmed that the now-familiar, subtle sensation of the Skyland's movement had stopped.  In the whiteout of the blizzard storm clouds, the only thing they'd seen in two days was swirling fog and snow as Harold's unit and Keeper built some makeshift stone huts atop the Skyland.

 “The Tower is just ahead,” Keeper said, gesturing into the swirling whiteout.

“How can you tell?” Kormak said, squinting into the snow.

 “Because the Skyland stopped,” Velea said, stepping out of seemingly nowhere.  “I told it to travel until we reached the Spire on this side of the Span.

 “You told it?  This thing can talk?” Kormak said, staring down and the snow-covered rock beneath his feet.

 Velea gave Kormak a look that made Suniel chuckle in spite of himself.

 “No, of course it doesn't talk.  It's a figure of speech,” Velea said.  “I just went to the Henge and mentally directed it to come here based off the information Harold gave me about its location.  We might have to wait until the snow clears before we can see exactly where the Spire is – wouldn't do to crash our Skyland into a Spire.”

 “Well, as long as we have to wait until this snow blows off, why don't we go somewhere warm?” Kormak said, turning hopefully to Suniel.

 Suniel rolled his eyes and pulled the doorknob to the Coach House from his robe.

 ***

 “Bail, Bail, Bail!” Meepo shouted, the kobold leaping and prancing around Bail like a puppy.  Suniel had a similar collection of Acolytes, goblins, the Shield Guardian, and the rest of his assorted outcasts and misfits gathering around. Even Kormak had Dog to return to.

 Harold shook his head at the little celebration, disgusted that they could find something to by happy about with what was happening on the other side of the Span.  _The Span Wall breached, the Magister's Council fighting an impossible, never-ending daily battle with Thessalock's Liches, some monstrosity tunneling about in the Crystal Towers mainland.  Soon the Fortresses will fall, then the cities..._

 “Follow me, men,” Harold said, leading his soldiers towards a balcony he remembered overlooking the dead town of North Spire.

 A few minutes later they arrived and stood in silence for a moment, staring out at the abandoned, snow-smothered streets.  “The walking dead infest this place,” he said.  “And this is a situation I find intolerable.  The Ashen Tower may besiege our people, but here at least we can fight back.”

 He gazed about the platoon, nodding to his Lieutenants.  “I have been dispatched by the Magisters to find ancient weapons to help turn the tide and reclaim the Crystal Towers, but you will cleanse North Spire and hold it against whatever comes.  Hold it to your dying breaths so that the world may know that some part of the Crystal Towers stands uncorrupted by the touch of the Ashen Tower.”

 “A caravan will arrive in a few weeks time, bringing much needed supplies.  Let them see us standing strong and I swear I will find us new allies and new weapons to defend our homeland.  When I return, we will take the fight to the Ashen Tower and reclaim the lands of our forefathers.”

 He looked each of his soldiers in the eye, one-by-one, then raised his finger.  “And I swear.  If I return and find that any of you have abandoned your posts here and left the Crystal Towers to fall, I will hunt you down individually and make you wish the Ashen Towers had gotten to you first.”

 He turned and walked away, moments later ascending the spiraling stairs that led to the top of the Spire and their Skyland.  The stairs blurred and he staggered, but he forced himself on, sinking despair shifting to impotent rage to righteous anger, and always the image of the Span that first day emblazoned on his memory

_The stink and moan of the dead pressing endlessly on, stretching into a horizon blotted with the smoke of burning cities and dark clouds of flying abominations, the black sky like the hand of Thessalock blotting out the sun..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 6

<Only got one post up last week, so here's an extra-longerish one!>

 “There's no way that is going to work,” Kormak said, staring in disbelief as Suniel's motley crew swarmed across the Skyland, planting metal spikes, dragging chains, hammering planks, and a dozen other tasks.

“If it is constructed according to the structural designs I drew up, the weight should be evenly distributed evenly amongst the chains and-”

Kormak raised his hands.  “I don't care that much, stop already.”

He turned to see Harold walking out of the town, bow in hand.  “How goes the cleansing?”

 “We found several of them holed up in the sewers.  They've been eliminated.”

 “Lose anyone?”

 Harold shook his head.  “I specifically put together this unit for their skill at eliminating the dead.”

 “Handy.  Seems like that type of capability would be _especially_ handy back at the Crystal Towers right about now too...” Kormak said.  He ignored Harold's dark look and walked off looking for Dog.

 ***

 Bail held onto one of the chains and leaned over the side of the Skyland, staring down as the Skyland slowly raised.  The chains began to creak and groan, as did the wooden planking of the Turtle's platform, but it held.  Over at the Henge, Velea moved the Skyland around for a few minutes and, aside from some slight swaying when she changed directions, the platform seemed stable.

“Guess that construct is good for something after all,” Kormak said, sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the Skyland and munching on a biscuit he'd probably swiped from the Coach House.

“What is the dwarf good for?” Keeper said as he walked by up the path.

 Kormak watched Keeper walk away then turned to Bail.  “I can never tell if he's joking or not.  I'd be inclined to believe constructs _can't_ joke – just look at Suniel's Guardian.  It's just a shiny, walking chunk of silversteel.  I think I prefer it.”

“Let's go find Suniel, figure out where we're going,” Bail said.

 A bit later they were standing next to the makeshift fort Harold's unit had put together atop the Skyland.

 “Where to now, oh mighty wizardly one?” Kormak said, tossing the last bit of his biscuit to Dog.  The mutt munched happily.

 Suniel turned from a discussion with Keeper, Harold, and Velea.  “We're heading towards the True Stone of Light.”

 “And where exactly is that?” Bail said.

 “It is to the northwest, a fair distance.  My access to the Nexus tells me it is far, but I will know precisely where it is when we are closer, as I did with the Lightning Stone,” Keeper said.

 “Is the Nexus like someone else talking inside your head or something?” Kormak said, squinting up at Keeper.

 “Are thoughts like someone else talking inside your head or something?” Keeper replied, returning the dwarf's stare.

 “I was wondering if we should maybe stop by Port and contact Bradic,” Harold said.

 “Why, so you can try to get him to send more people to die at your doomed-” Kormak said, silenced by Suniel producing another biscuit from seemingly nowhere and shoving it in Kormak's mouth.

 Bail grinned. The dwarf shifted constantly back and forth between being amusing and being annoying.  When Kormak was annoying Harold, it was about the best entertainment around.

 “It makes sense,” Suniel said.  “We should perhaps warn him to evacuate Port.  Tell them Keeper.”

 The construct nodded and stepped back with his hands clasped behind him like a soldier about to address a superior officer.  “I have heard some things from the Nexus.  It is quite likely that more testing incursions like the one we observed in the Freeholds are occurring as we speak.  As they intensify, they will begin targeting larger and larger settlements.”

 “Such as Port,” Suniel finished.  "I'll contact Bradic now."

 “What?” Bail and Kormak said together.

 Suniel closed his eyes, murmured, and made a series of rapid gestures.  He held out a small blue stone that began to glow faintly.  When he opened his eyes, he spoke.

 “Bradic, it is Suniel, can you hear me?”

 “Uh, what the...?  Hello?”  The voice seemed to be coming from a long ways off.

 “We are... heading roughly towards Port and we wanted to know how things were going there.”

 “Right.  Things are crazy.  Those golems you talked about have been attacking everywhere.  The whole of the Freeholds are in chaos. Talking to the empty air and having it talk back is really strange by the way.  Oh, the Locath have gotten really active and started 'taxing' all the ships that cross Landspear Lake on the way to the New Freeholds in Steamport's old lands.  Will you be coming here?”

 Suniel shook his head.  Bail wondered idly if Bradic could see the motion or if the elf just did it out of habit.  “No, at least not for a while.  We have business further north.  We do suggest that you evacuate the city.  An... inside source suggests that any concentrations of people will attract more Iron... more golem attacks.”

“Evacuate Port?  We just finished securing it!”

 “And if you keep 'securing' it, an army of rusty metal contraptions will fly down there and blast you and it apart with their lightning-beam eyes,” Kormak said.  He looked at the others and shrugged.  “What? Might as well let him know what he's in for.”

 There was a long pause, then a sigh.  “All right, I'll see what I can do.”

 The blue glow on the stone faded. Suniel took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders like a man who had been deep in concentration.

 “So the Freeholds are in chaos.  What else is new?” Kormak said.

 “Now what?” Bail said.

 “Now we fly until we find another True Stone,” Suniel said.

 “And then?”

 “We hope no one has laid claim to it.”

 “And if they have?”

 “We try to convince them to let us have it.”

 Bail grinned and tapped his sword hilt, then the side of his head.  “Say no more.”

 Kormak walked a few steps down the path in the direction the Skyland was heading.  He struck a pose, leaning forward and sheltering his eyes with one hand and pointing off to the horizon with the other.  

“Onward, to danger, the unknown, and killing things for to take their stuff!”  

Dog pranced around him, barking excitedly.

 Suniel sighed and Bail shook his head.  “This is going to be a long trip.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 7


 “Anyone know what that is?” Bail said, pointing down at the edge of the dark, tangled forest passing by far beneath the Skyland.

 Kormak and Keeper joined him and peered down to a small yellow shape gleaming in the winter sunlight.

 “There's a figure down there,” Keeper said.  “Humanoid.  It's waving.”

 Kormak squinted, then glanced at Keeper.  “Since when are your eyes so good?”

 Keeper turned to him.  “Technically, they aren't eyes.”

 “You have a knack for answering without answering, did you know that?”

 “What's going on?” Suniel said, walking down the path to join them.

 “There's someone down there at the edge of that dark scary forest we've been flying over and he's waving at us,” Kormak said.

 “Next to a wagon,” Keeper said.

 “And he's next to a wagon,” Kormak added.  “If he's waving, he has to be friendly, right?”

 “Might as well check it out,” Suniel said, shouting for Velea as he walked towards the henge.

 “Might as well, what's the worst thing that could happen?” Kormak said.

***

 Suniel followed closely behind Harold, Keeper and the Guardian following behind him.  Kormak and Bail brought up the rear.

 The wagon turned out to be a bright yellow, round gypsy wagon covered with strange silver runes, sitting in a sunny meadow.  Beyond was a line of metal posts with shimmering strips of metallic cloth placed every couple hundred feet along the edge of the woods.  The figure had stopped waving and merely stood draped in a thick brown robe and cowl, watching them approach.

 “You must be the Hollowed One we heard about,” Suniel said.

 “The who?  Oh! Riiiiight,” Kormak said, eyes slowly widening.  He took a few steps away  “Isn't he the one, you know, the guy that we weren't supposed to-”

 “Make a deal with?” the cowled figure said, his strangely echoing and slightly unsettling.  Suniel couldn't tell if it was male or female.

 “Yeah... that,” Kormak said, half-hiding behind the Guardian.

 “You are the Hollowed One?” Suniel said.

 The faintest movement of its cowl told hinted that it nodded.  “What is it you desire?”

 There was a long pause as Bail, Kormak, and Suniel exchanged a look.

 “I want to have the biggest - urk!”

 Bail grabbed Kormak and sat on him.

 The Hollowed One pulled back his cowl, revealing yellowish, almost polished skin.  His features were fair, almost feminine and his eyes had no iris.  “I can give you anything, for in the Fae Woods dreams are given form and I am the guardian of the Boundary.”

 “Anything?” Harold said, his eyes narrowing.

 Suniel shot Harold an alarmed look, but Harold seemed lost in contemplation.

The Hollowed One turned to Suniel and smiled.  “I can give you a Seeking Stone or even a True Stone if that is what you wish.”

 “You have a True Stone?” Bail said, adjusting his weight towards the dwarf's shoulders so Kormak's face was even more firmly planted in the dirt.

“Urmph!  Urgh urmur! Shmrrr mmrmr!” Kormak said, arms flailing.

“I can reach into the dreams of the Fae and bring back anything _you_ could dream of.  All you have to do is ask.”

 “The dreams of the Fae?  Are the True Stones in the Fey Wood somewhere?” Suniel said.

 “In a sense,” the Hollowed One said, gesturing towards the black wood beyond.  “If you had the integrity of mind to hold onto reality amidst the dreams of the Fae, you could find anything you desired there.”

 Kormak gasped for air as Bail stood up and walked towards the Wood a few steps.  He pointed at one of the metal poles as the dwarf shot him a dirty look and brushed himself off.  “What are those?”

 “I am bound to maintain the wards that surround the Fae Wood.”

 “Do you perhaps offer things are not of Fae make?” Harold said, a calculating look in his eyes.

Kormak stormed off out of sight behind the wagon.  If Suniel didn't know any better he'd think the dwarf was sulking.

 “I sell nothing, I only offer pieces of the Dreams, fragments that bind to ambition.  It entertains me to see the their effects outside in the greater world.”

 “You mean corrupt those that come for them?” Suniel said.

 The Hollowed One looked at Suniel with his head cocked to the side in an almost bird-like fashion.

“The corruption is within those who try to take the Dreams and force them to bend to their will.  Perhaps someone more strong-minded, someone with a strong enough will could resist...”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 8

“So you corrupted the Huntress willingly?” Harold said.  _Bradic said something about her bow..._

 The Hollowed One turned to Harod.  “I gave her what she dreamed of, nothing more.  Now she lives her dream every waking moment.”

 “She lives a radical, all-consuming and corrupting version of her dream,” Suniel said softly.

 “That is how the dream manifested in her.  I am here to give people their dreams, not take them away.”

 “And what exactly is the Fae?  Is it a who or a what?” Bail said.

 “The Fae is the dark dream of the world.”

 “That's sure descriptive,” Kormak said.  “Is it a dark dream that walks around in the woods or is it some dormant, uh... a sleeping sort of...”

 “It can become an entity or whatever else is desired when it comes into contact with the dreams of mortals.”

 “So, can it be killed?” Harold said, staring off into the forest.  Whatever was in there sounded powerful.  He wondered to whom it owed its allegiance and if it could be swayed.

 “Do you think you could defeat your dreams?  Dreams like those that fill your slumbers and slip into your mind even during your waking hours?” The Hollowed One gestured towards the woods.  “If you seek to find out, simply walk into the Fae Wood beyond the wards.  You will find your dreams... and they will find you.”

 “And is there no way to enter the Fae Wood without this happening?” Suniel said.

 “Aside from being you, that is,” Kormak added.

 “There is a way, should you wish to enter the wood.”  The Hollowed One produced four of the strange metallic-cloth strips.  Harold took one, as did the others.  It was like finely meshed steel wool, but lighter and softer and thin as cloth, the mesh so fine that it was almost smooth to the touch.

 “These will protect us?” Kormak said, shaking his.  “I'd expect them to be heavier or glowing with magical power or something.”

 A strange expression came over Suniel and he turned to Keeper.  “Do you... dream?”

 Keeper was silent for a moment.  “I have the Nexus.”

 The construct turned to the Hollowed One.  “How long until the last creations of the Elarim fulfill their destiny?”

 The Hollowed One smiled.  “Until the Tree dies.”

 Keeper nodded.

 “Say what?” Kormak said.

 Keeper looked at the woods as if he hadn't heard.

 “Keeper, what did you mean by that?” Suniel said.

 “I meant nothing,” Keeper said, not looking at Suniel.

 “Strange considering the remark you made.”

 “Perhaps it was unremarkable.”

 Suniel's look was troubled as he looked at Keeper.  _I knew we shouldn't trust that thing.  Is he just now getting that? _Harold thought.

 “Are you simply unwilling to tell me what you mean by that?”

 Keeper shook his head.  “I require more access to the Nexus.”

 “What would happen if we had Keeper ask for a True Stone?” Kormak said.  “As far as we can tell, he doesn't _have _dreams.”

 The Hollowed One looked at Keeper.  “This Keeper has no dreams, so if he asked for a stone, I might give him a pebble.”

 “What if we asked _you_ to create something, not for us, just create it?”

 The Hollowed One smiled sadly.  “I have no dreams.”

 “Did you have dreams when you were human?” Kormak said.  “Assuming you were human once, that is.”

 “I never was human, though this body was once human.”

 Something about the way he said that made Harold uneasy.  The others had gone quiet as well as they considered what he had just said.  _If the body was human, what was the Hollowed One and who had he hollowed out to take the body?_


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 9

"So how were you made?" Harold said.

"A member was offered by the Black City Trust. I accepted."

Something about the matter-of-fact way the Hollowed One spoke sent chills down Suniel's spine.

"Who was this member before?" Suniel said. "Did he choose willingly?"

“He was offered and I accepted,” the Hollowed one repeated, his quizzical expression telling Suniel that he didn't entirely understand the question.

 “So what were you before you hollowed this guy out and moved in?” Kormak said.

 “I was Fae.”

 “Which means...” Kormak said, gesturing with his hand for the Hollowed One to continue.

 Keeper's strange question and evasion from earlier was still troubling Suniel.  Then something clicked.  “What is the relation between the Fae and the Elarim?”

 “Why should there be a relation?” the Hollowed One said with a smile.

 “Can we keep these?” Harold said, raising the metal-cloth ward strip.

 “They will remain with me, though should you wish to enter the Fae Wood again, I will be there to give you one,” the Hollowed One said.

 “You sure about that?” Kormak said.  “What if we come in from somewhere else?”

“Yes.”

 “Yes?  Yes what?”

 “So where are the _light_ dreams of the world?” Harold said, seemingly talking to himself as much as anyone else.

 The question surprised Suniel – he had no idea that Harold even though of anything but the Ashen and Crystal Towers.

"No - answer my question first," Kormak said.

 “I often wonder that myself,” the Hollowed One said, smiling faintly as he glanced at Harold.  "Where indeed."

"Hello, my question?" Kormak said, waving his hands.

“Would you go into the Fae Wood if that was what I wished?” Suniel said, staring at the Hollowed One.  This creature radiated a sense of incredible power and a subtle, cold malevolence.

 “I have only been in the Fae Wood once, and I left immediately once this body became mine.”

 “Became yours willingly?”

"Why does everyone ignore me all the time?" Kormak said.  Bail patted him on the head and Kormak sighed.

 “The Trust willed it, as did I.  What does this question mean?” the Hollowed One said, squinting at Suniel with furrowed brows as if confused.

 “Did a vampire come by here by any chance?” Harold said.  “I thought he said something about coming south.  Who is the Crone?”

 “One such did come by,” the Hollowed One said.  He smiled.  “Fortunately, he found me and not the Crone.”

"Who is the Crone?" Kormak said.

 “So what happened to him?” Suniel said.

 The Hollowed One shrugged.  “I gave him his dream.”

"The Crone?" Kormak repeated.  "Please?"

 “And then?” Suniel said.

 “He left, presumably to the One Tree since he came undead and left elven.  I foresee even more sorrow in his path.”

Kormak sighed.

 There was a moment of silence.

 The Hollowed One was making Suniel uneasy.  Regardless of his intent now, he was pretty sure that no matter what “hollowing” entailed, one would not be likely to undergo it willingly.

 “What would happen if you were not here?” Suniel said.

"Then this would be a very strange conversation," Kormak said.  "Very one sided - hey, just like most of _my_ conversations!"

 The Hollowed One cocked his head again in that strangely bird-like fashion.  “I wouldn't know, I have been around as long as I can remember.”

 Suniel paused to consider his next words for a moment.  “If the human 'offering' was taken unwillingly and there would be no threat for the world in him being freed, he would wish for it to be so.”

 The Hollowed One smiled, but there was nothing pleasant in the smile.  Something dark flickered in the Hollowed One's eyes.  “It sounds as though you are coming to a wish...”

 Suniel took a long deep breath, then handed his ward to Kormak.

 “Why do I need two of these? Ignore me for ten minutes then suddenly you give me - hey, where are you going?” Kormak said.

“Stay here Keeper,” Suniel said as he walked towards the Fae Wood.  He paused for a moment at the boundary marked by the ward-posts and glanced back.  The others were all staring at him, in various expressions of curiosity, concern, and surprise.

 He turned and looked at the wood, feeling the wild, dark energies flowing within even from this side of the wards.

 He glanced up at the shining sun and drifting clouds, then down at the green grass and scattered winterbloom flowers.  The breeze was cool and refreshing as he glanced back at the Skyland, silhouetted against the sky, like a floating piece of the Landspear that loomed up in the southern horizon.

 With a final deep breath, he turned and walked beyond the warding boundary and into the dark tangle of the Fae Wood.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 28, Part 10

 Harold walked into the woods, scanning the darkness for Suniel, the cloth-metal ward around his neck pressing heavy and cold on his chest.  Even though he had only been a dozen or so paces behind the wizard, Suniel had somehow vanished utterly upon entering the wood.

 In the Wood, it was dark and close, the shadows seeming to churn and roil at the corner of his vision.  His nerves were on edge, like something behind him was about to leap onto his back with fang and fury.  “Suniel?”

 His voice sounded muffled.  “Suniel!”

 A minute later he couldn't take it anymore, claustrophobia threatening to overwhelm him.  He pushed through the woods quickly, a rush of adrenaline shooting through him at the thought that he had made a wrong turn and didn't know the way out.  A second later, he was pushing his way back into the sunlight, sweating, walking past the line of wards.

 “Well?” Bail said.

 Harold turned to the Hollowed One.  “Where did he go?”

 The Hollowed One smiled.  “He has gone into the Fae.”

 “What?” Harold said.  “What does that mean?”

 Kormak chuckled.  “We've been talking to this guy for half-an-hour without getting a straight answer and you expect to get one now?”

 “When will he come out?” Bail said.

 “When?  Where is just as valid a question,” the Hollowed One said.

 “Like that, see?” Kormak said, looking at Harold as he pointed to the Hollowed One.  “That's what I'm talking about.”

 “Care to elaborate?” Bail said.

 “There's no need to wait for him, for he has entered the dream of the world beneath.”

 Everyone waited for the Hollowed One to continue.  They probably figured, like Harold did, that asking him to clarify wouldn't help much.

 “He could leave the dream in a day, or a year, or ten thousand years,” the Hollowed One said.  “Or never.”

 The Hollowed One paused and stared off towards the Landspear, piercing up through the clouds on the horizon.  “He could walk out right next to us, or a mile away, or on another world, another plane.”

 “I wish for his dream to not upset the balance of the world,” Kormak said, his expression deadly serious for once.

 The Hollowed One turned to him and tilted his head to the side.  “Do you consider the world to be in balance now?”

 While the dwarf was pondering the question, Harold turned to Bail.  “Did he leave that doorknob of his behind?”

 Bail stared back at him with mutual distaste.  “Why?”

 “Because some of us have been keeping things in there and don't want them to be sitting in there until the wizard decides to wake up or walk out of his magical dark dream.  Let's get everything we can out of there.”

 Keeper walked up, staring after Suniel into the woods.  “Your master isn't coming out of there.”

 The construct turned and looked at him, his empty eyes flickering and sparking.  “Why does that matter?”

 “Will you continue the mission without Suniel?”

 “Who said I was following Suniel?” Keeper said.  For once Harold wished the construct had an expression.

 “Well, the mission needs to continue.  Will continuing it be a problem?”

 “If it's like it has been so far,” Keeper said.  With that, the construct turned and walked back towards the Skyland.

 Harold stared after the construct.  He'd never trusted it to begin with, but this just confirmed it. He wondered if Bail would be a problem now without Suniel holding his leash. It would distract him from the mission the Magisters had sent him on, but he'd kill the half-dragon if he had to.  He shook his head and followed Keeper.

 “Bye-bye creepy Empty Man,” Kormak said as he followed behind.  Harold glanced back to see Bail and Kormak following him.

 The Hollowed One and his wagon were gone.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 1

“You building a new friend there?” Kormak said, staring at the strange bits of metal strewn about around Keeper.

 Keeper shook his head.  “Harold wanted for a mechanical construct to use as a mount.  I am in the midst of building it.”

 “Why doesn't he just get a horse or something?”

 “When I am complete, he will have something like a horse.”

 “We're flying over what looks like the ruins of some massive city,” Bail said.  “We've been over it for a couple hours and it still stretches to the horizon in every direction.”

“Endemore,” Keeper said, without looking up from the bits he was tinkering with.

 “How do you know that?  No wait, the Nexus told you.  Right?” Kormak said.

“Correct.”

“Well, looking at a ruined city has to be more interesting than watching Keeper,” Kormak said, following Bail towards the edge of the Skyland.

He looked down at a seemingly endless sprawl of tumbled stone, creeping vines, and a thick mass of trees.  Some towering structures reached hundreds of feet into the air despite their decrepit and crumbling state.  Out of the corner of his eye, Kormak even saw one covered with vines that thrashed in the air like-

Kormak spun towards the tower.  No thrashing vines, just regular vines.  “Did you see what I just saw, Bail?”

“If it was ruins, then yes.”

"You didn't see animate vines trying to pull birds out of the air then?"

Bail's expression answered that question.

Keeper walked up beside them and Kormak glanced at him.  “Looking for something?  Don't see any discarded metal, if that's what you are looking for.”

As he spoke, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, one of the buildings falling, but skywards.  He quickly looked in that direction, but just saw nothing but more ruins.  “Tell me someone saw that,” Kormak said.

 “Saw what?” Bail said.

 “Yes,” Keeper said.

 “You saw it too?” Kormak said.  “Thought I was going crazy for second.”

“What are you two talking about?” Bail said.

“An anomaly, likely caused by a rift to one of the chaotic outer planar regions, judging by its effect on the ruins.”

“Of course it is.  Anything else you want to tell us?” Kormak said.

“The True Stone of Light is two-and-a-half miles that way, where that self-assembling stone pyramid sits north of us,” Keeper said.

Kormak peered into the distance for a few minutes before movements in the ruin caught his attention.  “Are those stones migrating?”

As they watched, a massive piece of masonry fell from a nearby building, hit the ground and rolled ten feet.  A few seconds later, it rolled a couple more times.

“That was odd,” Kormak said.  A second later, the piece of rubble rolled another twenty feet towards the north.

Kormak squinted into the distance and saw the top of a ramshackle terraced pyramid rising from the forested ruins.  As he watched, the air seemed to ripple, vertigo and nausea almost overwhelmed him, and a square stone block the size of a wagon rolled up the side of the pyramid and settled atop it.

“The True Stone of Light is in there?” Kormak said, pointing at the bizarre pyramid.

 Keeper nodded.

“Any idea what sort of thing might live inside that?”

“The Nexus is silent.”

“Figures.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 2


 “What do you suppose Suniel is doing right now?” Kormak said as the Skyland came to a halt next to a cliff face where they could easily disembark.

 “It can't be much stranger than what we have going on,” Bail said, staring at the strange pyramid.  As they watched, another stone rolled up a bit higher, settling precariously on edge.

 Harold was thinking more about what sort of creature would live in such a thing.  Something powerful enough to take a True Stone for itself and hold on to it.

 “Velea, bring the Guardian,” Harold said.  He couldn't see Velea anywhere, but that didn't mean she wasn't nearby.

 “Velea gets the Guardian?” Bail said, turning on Harold.  “Why is that?”

 “She may be able to hide, but she tells me combat is not entirely her forte,” Harold said.  He shrugged.  “Makes sense that she have it since we might be fighting something soon."

 “Fine, then Keeper is with us,” Kormak said.

 They all turned to Keeper.  The construct ignored them and started walking towards the pyramid.

 “Do we really want to just leave our Skyland sitting here?” Kormak said.

Bail smiled.  “Meepo's got it.  Take it away!”

 Harold heard a loud yipping from the other side of the Skyland and it began to slowly drift away.

 “We're leaving the Skyland in the hands of a kobold?” Harold said, staring at Bail in disbelief.

 “He's my brother, I trust him,” Bail said with a shrug.

 “Tell me how your brother is a kobold again?” Kormak said.

 “Well I don't trust him,” Harold said.  “Bring him back here.”

 Bail stared at him flatly.  “No chance.”

 Harold stared at Bail as Velea and the Guardian joined them.  They stood in silence for a minute.  Harold was waiting for Bail to make the first move, to reach for that huge adamantine sword of his.

 Finally Kormak broke the silence.  “If you guys are gonna kill each other, just do it.  If not, let's go check out that pyramid.”

 Harold took a deep breath and Bail bared his teeth in what could have been a smile or a snarl.  He waited until Bail walked away to lower his guard.  Velea moved forward to the edge of his peripheral vision. 

“I've noticed a lot of tension between the two of you,” Velea said.  “If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were about to try to kill each other like the dwarf said.”

“He told me a while back that he would kill me as soon as I turned my back on him,” Harold said, watching the dwarf, half-dragon, and construct walk into the ruins of Endemore.

 “You think he would?”

 “Now that Suniel isn't here?  He'd try.”

 “Try?”

 Harold tapped his quiver.  “I already put half-a-dozen arrows into him, I could do it again.  Let's go.”

 He glanced back at the Skyland now hovering several hundred feet above the ruins and shook his head as he followed the others.  Velea followed a few moments later, a troubled expression on her face.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 3

 “Anyone else feeling kinda dizzy?” Velea said.  “It's like the ground is tilting towards that pyramid... but it isn't.”

 “And what is that smell?” Bail said, brows furrowed as he sniffed at the air.  He couldn't place it, just a faint, vaguely unpleasant scent.

 “Look at this thing!” Kormak shouted from a ways further along the rubble-strewn courtyard around the pyramid.

 Bail and the others walked closer, climbing over a mound of rubble to see Kormak staring at a massive cube of stone longer on a side that Bail was tall that stood perfectly still on one edge.  He walked around it, giving it wide-berth in case it suddenly decided to fall over.

 “Look at this edge.  It's sitting on stone, nothing holding it up at all,” Kormak said, kneeling and pointing.

 “Move back,” Bail said, walking towards the block and getting a good grip on one edge.  After glancing around to see that no one was in its path, he pulled.  Nothing.  He tried harder, eventually straining with all his might against the stone.  Finally he gave up, panting.

 “Magic?” Kormak said.

 “Not exactly,” Keeper said, examining the pyramid as if he were planning on building one.

 “Care to elaborate?”

 Keeper nodded.  “There are realms where what we consider the... norms of reality are different, or non-existent.  A semi-permanent rift or portal to such a place might cause a distortion of defined reality on both planes.”

 “Hm.  I wonder if there's a side entrance to it somewhere,” Kormak said, turning back to the pyramid.

 “Harold seems to be betting that it's at the top,” Bail said, pointing to where Harold and the Guardian – and probably Velea too, though they couldn't see her – were working their way up.

 He and Kormak scrambled and climbed after them, catching up just as Harold and the Guardian came to a stop, staring at a massive twenty foot cube of stone at the very top.  Keeper was also already there waiting.

 Bail and Kormak stared at him in amazement as they gasped for breath.  “How did you get up here so fast?”

 Keeper turned towards them, eyes flickering.  “Your path was not optimal.”

 “Do you think the entrance is underneath this last block?” Harold said, circling around so he could see another face of it.

 “Maybe we just push it off,” Kormak said, walking towards it.  “Keeper said the rules don't apply here, so it kinda makes sense.”

 The dwarf stretched and flexed dramatically, then slowly put his hands against it and pushed.  His arms sunk in to what appeared to be solid stone up to the elbows.  “What the- ow!  It burns!”

 He jerked his hands back and stepped away as the cube of stone suddenly deformed, pseudopods reaching in all directions.  Bail was taken by surprise and one grabbed him before he could get away.

 On reflex, his eyes snapped shut as he was enveloped, like being submerged in a vat of caustic honey.  He clawed and bit for his life, ignoring the pain as the acids burned at him.  Worst of all was the feelings of drowning, suffocation, claustrophobia.  He redoubled his efforts, throwing his weight back and forth as he slashed and tore, attempting to find a way out.

 Then he felt a jolt of energy, and another.  Lightning shot into him through the substance of the thing that had taken him, causing his muscles to spasm.  When he recovered, he felt air on one elbow and hurled himself in that direction, clawing his way free and gasping for breath.

 He landed hard on the stone and rolled several tiers down before he could catch himself.

 When he looked up, Kormak, Velea, and Harold were all holding onto the True Stone of Lightning, flashes and bolts arcing from their extended hands into the rapidly dissolving substance of the creature.  By the time Bail had climbed again to their side, the thing had lost all form and was dribbling down the sides of the pyramid and into cracks, filling the air with the acrid stench of its inner acids.

“You ok?” Kormak said, turning to Bail. "That didn't look especially fun."

 Bail took a moment to check himself over.  “My scales are tarnished and it ate my new armor off my back, but I seem to be relatively unhurt.”

 “Well, the good news is that we found the door,” Kormak said, pointing to the flattened top of the pyramid where the creature had been.  An uneven, patchwork staircase spiraled down into the stony depths.

 Bail grunted.  “And what's the bad news.”

 The pyramid itself answered a second later.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 4

There was a sudden pulse of energy – not visible in the air, but felt in the bones – that rippled through them.  A second later, all the stones of the pyramid shifted at once, sending Kormak and the others scrambling and tumbling.  The opening of the crude spiral stair that led into the depths of the pyramid violently crushed closed.  The pyramid ceased to be a pyramid and became merely a heap of rubble, with Kormak and the others trying to stay on the top of it as the rubble composing it rolled, cracked, rumbled, and churned. 

As quickly as it had started, it stopped.  There was a moment of stillness, then the rubble began to shift outward and reform into the rough pyramid, the spiral staircase boring itself out again into the depths of the rubble.  Thirty seconds later, it was as though nothing had ever happened.

 “Why am I not excited about going in there now?” Kormak said, pointing at the hole.

 Bail was sniffing the air and looking around.  “Surprising there isn't any dust in the air after all that.”

 “We just landed our flying island in a ruined city where stones fall sideways and up, build themselves spontaneously into pyramids, and you think the _dust_ is strange?” Kormak said, staring at the half-dragon.

 Keeper shook his head.  “No, he stated that he found the _lack_ of dust strange.”

 Kormak turned to the construct.  “Thanks for the clarification.  You sure the True Stone is down there?”

 Keeper nodded.

 “Figures – hey, wait, you're going in now?” Kormak said, stepping in front of Harold.

 Harold nodded.  “How deep can it be?  This pyramid isn't that tall.”

 “But... but... did you not see what it just did?”

 “Perhaps it was an anomaly,” Keeper said.

 “Of course it was!  Unless rock does stuff like this at the Nexus or wherever you're from.”

 “No.  For clarification of the previous statement, perhaps in the altered reality of our current locality, the event we just witnesses was not a regular event.”

 “And if it was?”

 “Then we'll move quickly,” Harold said, pushing past the dwarf and descending into the hole.  Velea presumably followed since the Guardian hunched itself down and followed a bit behind Harold.

 Kormak stared at Bail.  “You're not going in there are you?”

 Keeper followed the Guardian.

 Bail shrugged.  “The True Stone is down there, it seems we have no alternative.”

 “But... but... what if... the rocks!” Kormak yelled at Bails back as he followed the others.

 Kormak crossed his arms and planted his feet.  “Well, I'm definitely not going down there.  No way.”

 Out of the corner of his eye, a ruined building began shimmering and moving slowly towards the pyramid.  His head snapped around.

 There was no shimmering and the building wasn't moving, but Kormak couldn't be sure that it wasn't closer to the pyramid than it was before.  The feeling of vertigo began to come over him again.  “Bugger.”

 He walked to the steps and descended quickly into the claustrophobic darkness of the pyramid.

 ***

 They had been descending into the pyramid for several minutes when the nauseating energy pulse hit again.  Bail snorted and braced himself against the walls, and not a moment to soon.  The stone began closing in, pressing hard on him from all directions.  He grunted and strained with all his might, the primal spark of terror at being crushed and buried beneath in the dark depths of the earth filling him with adrenaline.  He gritted his teeth, joints popping, bones grinding against the pressing rubble.  He let out a roar as his muscles reached the point of utter failure, his body straining beyond its limits.  Just when he didn't think he could take it anymore, there was a rumble somewhere deep below him and the pressure released and he fell to the rapidly forming stairs.

 He lay gasping for several minutes, similar sounds from above and below letting him know some of his companions, at least, were still alive.  “Hello?” he called, once he could catch his breath enough to do so.

 He stood slowly, his whole body hurting at once.

 “Told you so!” a dwarven voice grumbled from above.

 “Everyone alive?” Harold called from below, his voice muffled by the stone.

“Mostly,” Velea said, the pain obvious in her tone.

 “Keeper?” Bail said.  He stared at the darkness.  “Damnit, can we get some light in here?”

 A moment later, Velea joined him, a faintly glowing white stone held in her hand.  They went up a few stairs and met Kormak coming the other way, dragging the crumpled form of Keeper behind him.  “Gimme a hand, he's heavier than he looks,” Kormak said.  “And boy, Suniel is going to be pissed when he shows up again.”

 “If he ever shows up again,” Harold said from below.

 “I'll take him back up,” Bail said, stepping past Kormak and heaving the impressive weight of the construct onto his shoulder.  He ignored the complaints of the others and practically sprinted up the stairs, the strain of having been recently crushed and sprinting up a narrow, uneven staircase through the dark with two-hundred pounds of inert metal on his back driving him to the brink of passing out.

 He reached the daylight and literally fell out onto the top of the pyramid, gasping.  When he recovered enough to move, he crossed Keeper's mangled arms across his chest in the universal sign of funerary repose and glanced back at the hole in the pyramid with a sigh.

 A few deep breaths later and he was heading down again.  He hadn't made it far when another pulse rumbled in his bones.  _Not again!_ he though as he turned and half-scrambled, half-sprinted back up the few flights of stairs he had made it down.  He leapt clear just as the stairway closed behind him, the stones pressing together like the door to a tomb.

 He lifted up Keeper to hopefully keep the construct from getting buried in the shifting stones and struggled to keep his balance.  It was less than a minute before the stones were again inert, but it had felt like hours when he had been inside the pyramid... as his companions were now.  He scrambled, slid, and jumped down the side of the pyramid, laying Keeper down on a stretch of clear ground where they could hopefully find him again and then ascended the pyramid again.

 When he reached the summit, he gave himself no time to hesitate, practically leaping down the stairs.  _If anyone is alive, we'll need to get moving quickly to get to the Stone down there, _he thought.  _If not, then I need to get what's left of them out..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 5

 Harold cursed as the crushing rock pulled back again.  “Everyone still alive?” he gasped.

 “Yes,” Velea said weakly from nearby.

 “Barely,” Kormak said.  “How about we not wait for Bail and head down now?”

 Harold didn't say anything, just began moving down the stairs as quickly as he could in the narrow confines.  He heard the others coming down close behind him.  Several minutes later, he saw light ahead, and motioned for Velea to stop.

 They proceeded slowly, moving onwards until the tunnel was as bright as day.  Ahead, Harold saw the stairs end in a hole, shining with light as though it opened to the noon-day sun.  “I think we're there,” Harold whispered.

 “We're where?” Kormak said loudly.

 “Shhh!” Harold said.

 “Don't shush me.  I just got smashed by a pyramid twice.  I'm in no mood for-” Harold squeezed past Velea and the Guardian and grabbed Kormak's collar.  The dwarf immediately, twisted out of his grip and pushed him back, but he shut up.

 “We're at the bottom, there might be something down there,” Harold said, glaring at the dwarf.

 “Well, why didn't you say so?” Kormak said, straightening his clothes.

Harold returned to the hole and was about to peek in when Bail's voice boomed out.  “Glad to see you are all alive, thought I might have-”

Behind him, someone quieted Bail.

 “-thought I might have to drag more of you out,” Bail finished at a whisper.

 Harold turned to Velea.  “You have some fortifying magics, don't you?”

 She nodded.  “I can help with some of the injuries anyone took when the stairwell closed on us.”

 “Do it then.”

 Velea began quietly chanting, then lightly touched Harold, Kormak, and Bail in turn.  Harold wasn't sure exactly what she did, but the pain and abrasions of the crushing stone faded slightly.

 She had just finished when a refined, eloquent sounding voice called out from below.

 “You there, healing yourselves in my stairwell...”

 They stared at each other for a moment, then Harold sighed and leaned out into the hole.  He leaned back and sighed.  “It's a round room with a beholder in the center of it.”  He looked in again, then turned to the others, his brows furrowed.  “Strangely, it looks like there's a pile of gold on the ceiling...”

 ***

 Abrogosian stared at the newcomers as they crawled out of the gravity-flux stairwell.  He wondered how long it would take these ones to figure out how the spherical rift distortion affected gravity in the chamber.

 He wasn't surprised when they figured out that the entirety of the spherical chamber wall was “floor”, climbing out of the hole and walking around.  Considering they had survived two “experiences” with the gravity-flux, he wasn't especially surprised.  Now what did surprise him was that one of them, a humanoid with a variety of magically-imbued equipment including a quiver that opened into a small extra-dimensional pocket, was carrying what seemed to be the True Stone of Lightning.

 “I only see three of you... four counting your silversteel Elarim guardian-golem.  Where's the other one I heard?”

 They glanced amongst themselves, then one, a the half-dragon off-breed of a gold dragon, it appeared, looked at him and said, “there were only the three of us, you must be mistaken.”

 Abrogosian paused and thought for a moment.  They seemed to have noticed the magic-damping affects of his primary eye, and were spreading out around the room so he could only have one in view of it at a time.  He made sure to have at least two eye-stalks following each of them.  “Do you know what I am?”

 “A beholder, a creature made from the chaotic energies beyond the stars mixing with the stuff of reality,” the female said.  “Yes, I know you.”

 “Ah, excellent.  It is good to be known, yes?”

 The humanoids exchanged glances that he assumed conveyed confusion.  _Excellent_, he thought.  _With creatures of this power, I must be careful.  If they had enough power to claim one True Stone..._

 He often counted the time between gravity-fluxes in one part of his mind, and now one was nearly there.  

 “Hm.  Wait for it... wait for it...”

 They stared at him, then looked at each other in confusion, then the pulse of a gravity-flux hit and the stairwell ground closed.

 By the way all three of the humanoids' attention shot to the stairwell, he knew he was right about his count.  “Oh, was someone still in there?” he said, turning from side to side to imitate the motion he'd seen other humanoids make with their heads.  “It does that.  Now, if you had told me you had another guest that was shy and still hiding in the stairwell, I could have warned you it was about to close again.  Most unfortunate.”

 A minute later, the stairwell re-sorted itself and their was a pained groan from the stairs.  “Come on in, friend,” he called, giving his finest toothy grin.  “I assure you, it's much nicer in here than it is in there.”

_Crushed two, three times and still alive?  These creatures are powerful indeed.  Must float carefully..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 6

 “So... what is that place out there?  You know, the ruined one outside?” Kormak said.

 Bail winced, expecting the beholder to attack at any moment.  He'd heard of these things from his mother when he was very young.  _'Powerful, treacherous, cunning,' _she had said.  _And this one has a True Stone.  We have to be careful here...

_  “Out there?  It was some empire that existed here before they opened up the portal.”

 “Portal?”

 The room shook, stone ground on stone, and one small section of the room slid aside, revealing a shimmering gray-green portal.  Just looking at it made Bail feel sick, like the room was spinning and stretching, like gravity was constantly shifting.

“Through the portal is where we came to your plane.  There is an amazing realm on the other side that you might enjoy visiting.  Might want to leave your-”

“Wait, hold on toothy.  What about this place outside, this empire.  What happened to it?” Kormak said.

 “Well, it seems awfully destroyed lately.  How was it when you came through?”

 “Uh... destroyed?”

 “It hasn't changed since last time I was there then.”  The thing grinned and Bail wondered what it was up to.  He exchanged worried glances with Velea, then Harold.  From the archer's expression, for once they agreed about something.  Bail stared at two eye-stalks that were watching him and walked slowly towards the archer.

 “So, did you destroy it?” Kormak said.

 Bail leaned close to Harold and whispered.  “With that thing floating there in the center of the room, you're the only one who can reach it.”

 “Well, I can't claim sole responsibility for the destruction of an empire,” Abrogosian said.  “Though the thought is sure flattering to the ego.”

 “What about the True Stone?” Harold whispered back.  “Its magics...?”

 “What's an ego?  No, wait, I don't care.  So, you're saying that the ruins out there were somehow caused by you?”

 Bail shrugged.  “I'm assuming you know about or noticed the effects it has one whatever it looks at?  I don't know if the True Stone will work.”

 “Yes, well, no, not directly.  It's a long story.  I am responsible for the pyramid though, you like it?”

 “So you take our True Stone then?” Harold whispered back.

 “Like the pyramid?  No, I don't like it much honestly. It smushed me one too many times. No offense.”

 “Yeah, we'll distract it, you kill it,” Bail whispered back.

 Abrogosian turned his main eye towards them.  “It's good form to talk about your plans to kill something somewhere where it can't see and hear you, just so you know.”

 Bail froze, ready for combat.  There was a long, tense pause.  Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.  “So, why don't you just kill us?”

 It blinked its massive center eye at him a few times, then smiled.  “Guess.”

 Bail stared at it for a minute, then whispered to Harold.  “See if you can get Velea to distract it somehow, I might have an idea.”  He turned to the beholder.  “Um... can I get a hint?”

 “Of course,” Abrogosian said, a set of eyestalks following Harold as he walked over to Velea.  Bail happened to glance at the portal again as Harold walked near it.  Even looking at it gave Bail a headache.  “Ok, my first hint is... artifacts!”

“Artifacts.”

 “Yes, artifacts.  Go ahead and guess.”

 Bail saw Harold whispering to Velea.  “So... you aren't attacking us because of artifacts.”

 “That's a just a hint, no need to parrot it back to me as if it were the answer.  Use that draconic brain of yours, see what you can come up with.”

“Uh... I think I need another hint.”

 “Numerology,” it said, without a second's hesitation.

 “Numerology?”

 “See, there's that parroting thing again.  I must say, gold dragons aren't doing nearly as good a job raising their offspring as they used to.”

 “I was raised by kobolds.”

 “Ah, well that explains a lot then.”

 Suddenly Velea burst out into song, her voice ringing even in the strange acoustics of the spherical stone chamber.  Bail's eyes widened and he was caught up in the song along with the beholder for a second before he noticed Harold waving at him and nodding his head towards the exit.

 He walked over to Kormak and motioned for the dwarf to head towards the exit and was nearly there with Harold when Velea's song ended.  Abrogosian turned towards them immediately and they stopped in their tracks, again ready to fight.

 “I say, if you are going out, could you take this litter with you?”

 They stared at the beholder uncomprehendingly.

“Litter?” Kormak finally said.

 One eyestalk motioned towards the heap of gold on the far side of the chamber.  “Yes, this stuff has slowly accumulated over the years and it's honestly a bit of an eye-sore.  Could you dispose of it for me?”

 The three of them exchanged a confused glance, then quickly complied.  “Would you like another song?” Harold said, as they started to bag up coins and stack chests.

 “Yes please, it is most delightful.”

 Bail had been in many surreal situations in his life, but nothing up to that point compared to hauling sacks of beholder-given gold away from said beholder through a hole in the floor that sent them falling upwards onto the stairs of a self-building pyramid while a shadow-walking woman with a regenerating silver golem stood next to a portal to a different dimension and sang the most beautiful music he'd ever heard as the beholder hummed along.

 Kormak summed it up for him as they hoofed it quickly up the stairs.  “That was different.”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 7

 Bail waved at the Skyland, hoping Meepo was paying attention.  He was just about to give up when the Skyland began to drop, drifting towards the cliff on which they stood.  Bail, Kormak, and Harold jogged towards the cliff edge, but slowed as they got closer.

The Skyland wasn't stopping.

 “Uh... run!” Kormak shouted as the Skyland came piling into the cliff, the ground heaving and cracking, rocks and dust flying and swirling in all directions.

When it all cleared, the Skyland was securely piled into the rock.

 “Not exactly as planned,” Harold said.

 “But you know, it just might work,” Bail said.  “This way we don't have to find a place to land the thing.”

 “Right, so what's the plan again?” Kormak said as they jumped across the broken rubble where Skyland met cliff.  Meepo came bouncing down from the henge.

 “I do good Bail?”

 Bail nodded and patted the kobold on the head.  “Good Meepo, just might want to go a bit more slowly when you're bringing it in next time.”

“Meepo will do!”

 “Ahem,” Kormak said, waving his arms in front of Bail.  “What are we doing?”

 “You two are getting the True Stone of Air, then using it to summon spirits of air to go fight that thing,” Harold said.

 “We are?” Kormak said.

 “Do you not remember how?” Harold said.

 “Of course we remember how,” Bail said with a growl.  “What do you mean _you two_?  What are you doing?  Where are you going?”

 They stared as Harold ran back towards the pyramid.

 “Or, you know, whatever,” Kormak said to Harold's back.  He turned to Bail.  “So, do you know how to do that summoning stuff he mentioned?”

“Yeah, but let's get this 'litter' stored somewhere first.”

 “Let's just stack it near the henge since that's where we're going anyway.”

A few minutes later they stood staring at the henge and the True Stone floating on the pedestal in the center of it.

 “So, do you think Meepo plowed this thing far enough into the cliff face that it won't fall if we take the True Stone?” Kormak said.

 “Guess there's only one way to find out,” Bail said, taking the True Stone.  Immediately, the faint glow inside the crystal of the henge dimmed and the Skyland lurched.  They stood for a second, arms out, balancing and waiting for it to shift more, but it seemed to have settled.

 “All right, let's get off the Skyland in case it falls before we start this,” Kormak said.

 Bail nodded.

 Ten minutes later, with half-a-dozen air spirits swirling about them, the ground suddenly shook.  They stopped chanting and stared at the pyramid, to see the ground heave and visibly _ripple_ out from it, stones raining down, ruins toppling, and cracks forming in the ground.

 “What was that?” Kormak said.  “More importantly, what did Harold just do?”

Bail just growled and stared at the pyramid.  A few minutes later, it compressed in violently, held for a second, then exploded apart, massive stones flying in every direction and another rippling shock wave traveling through the earth.

 A second later, they saw a tiny figure pull himself out of the top of the shattered pyramid, a brilliantly shining object in hand.  The figure half-ran, half-slid down what was left of the pyramid as it came apart.

 “Run!” Harold shouted, his face clearly covered with blood and dust even from a distance.

 Dwarf and half-dragon exchanged a glance, then complied, sprinting for the Skyland.  The Skyland was falling out of the cliff face in terrifying lurches as they scrambled across it towards the henge.

“What going on?” Meepo wailed as he scampered after them.

 Bail ignored him, thrusting the True Stone onto the central pedestal of the henge.  As soon as the henge began to glow, he grabbed the Stone.  _Fly up, fast!_ he mentally commanded.

 The Skyland complied immediately, drifting upwards and away.

 A few seconds later, Harold reached the henge and doubled over, breathing heavily, the True Stone of Light clutched tightly in one hand.

 “Where's Velea and the guardian?” Bail said.

 Harold shook his head and opened his mouth to speak.

 The sky began to fill with light.

 Bail glanced back towards the pyramid and saw the ground heave upward.  

On instinct, he grabbed the True Stone of Air again and tilted the Skyland so the bulk of its mass was between them and the pyramid.  A second later, the world turned white.  The crystals of the henge flared blue in response, a crystalline ringing from the henge warring with a tremendous, deafening roar from all around them.

 The Skyland lurched, the thundering crack of stone breaking and shattering joining the ring and roar that filled the air.

 Then in a flash, the whiteness intensified, until there was naught but light and energy...


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 8

 Kormak hurt everywhere.  As he came to, that was his first realization.  His second was that he was half-buried in rubble.  He coughed and opened his eyes and saw only smoke and dust.  As he pulled himself out of the rocky debris, he tried to remember where he was and what had happened.

_We flying over a ruined city that wasn't quite right... Endemore?_ he thought, blinking rapidly and spitting black phlegm to clear the grit from his eyes and lungs.  _Oh wait, yeah, the pyramid... talkative beholder... the Skyland!_

 Visibility was at ten, maybe fifteen feet, though he could see the distant glow of what was probably a massive fire through the smoke and dust.  _Where is the Skyland?  We were on it when... when this happened._

 “Bail, you alive?” he shouted before breaking down into a fit of coughing.  He dug into his pack for a bit of cloth to make a mask, tied it on, and walked onwards.  “Bail?  Harold?”

 A faint breeze picked up, causing even more grit to blow and sending the smoke and dust swirling into his face.  “Harold? Bail?”

 It could have been minutes or hours of stumbling through the hazy, burning twilight world he'd woken into when the air  began to clear slightly and he heard a voice in the distance.  “Kormak, is that you?”

 “Bail?”  He squinted at a figure emerging from the haze a dozen yards away.  “Bail!  Never thought I'd be so happy to see an ugly half-dragon like you!”

 Bail smiled.  “Ugly?  Who are you to call anything ugly, dwarf?”

 “True I suppose,” Kormak said, assuming a humble pose.  “The gods felt bad about making one being so perfect, so they had to tweak something to keep everyone else from getting jealous.”

 “I think they overdid it,” Bail said.  “Seen Harold?”

 They covered their eyes as even stronger gusts began to blow.  “Let's find some shelter until this all blows over,” Kormak said, leading towards a large chunk of rock jutting up from the debris.

 When they got close, Kormak thought he saw a faint blue glow coming from the other side of the rock and slowed down as they neared it.  He pointed and Bail squinted at it for a moment.  “The henge?”

 “Wasn't the henge on a Skyland?” Kormak said as they walked closer.

 “I think that boulder there _is_ the Skyland now,” Bail replied.

 When they finished circling around, they saw that the Skyland was, in fact, now a disc of rock perhaps fifteen feet across and about half that thick.  The pale blue crystals of the henge seemed to be entirely intact and stuck out at an odd angle from the half-buried sky-disk.

 Harold stood before it and glanced in their direction.  “It seems to be functional, though it might be best if we dug it out before we tried flying it anywhere.”

 “Nice to see you are alive, too,” Kormak said, shaking his head.  “I don't suppose you're going to tell us what the hell happened?”

 Harold shook his head as he continued to stare at the henge.  “Not now, time later.”

 Kormak sighed looked around the still-hazy rubble-field and was struck by a random thought.  “Where do you suppose the turtle is?”

 Bail and Harold stared at him.  “You know, I wasn't even thinking about it,” Bail said.  “Was it still attached after Meepo crashed the Skyland into the cliff?”

 Kormak shrugged.  “I didn't think to check.  I suppose we should find that cliff we crashed into then.”

 “We dig this out first,” Harold said, kneeling, digging with his hands and tossing small rocks over his shoulders.

 Bail snorted and glared at the human.  “I'm going to look for the turtle,” Bail said.  The half-dragon wheeled and walked off into the rapidly-clearing haze.

He glanced back and forth between the half-dragon and human, then sighed.  “Good thing Dog is in Suniel's Coachhouse at least.”

 A quick scan of the area revealed a nearby massive, craggy heap of rock – probably a chunk of the Skyland that had been blown off.  He jogged towards it and began climbing.

 By the time he reached the top, the sun was setting and the wind had dispersed most of the dust.  The sight he saw was terrible and wondrous all at once.

“Gods,” he said, plopping down on an outcropping and dangling his legs.

 Where the pyramid had been, there was only a crater, probably several miles across and hundreds of feet deep.  Around its edges were large heaps of rock and ruin, like the one he had just climbed, forming a jagged cliff around the rim of the crater.  The surrounding hills bore naught but flattened trees and fire and hundreds of smaller fires smoldered here and there in the crater itself, giving the impression of some simmering hell.  In the center, the rock was glassy and smooth and here and there still glowed red.

 And near that center was a tiny figure, staggering and stumbling as it made its way in Kormak's direction.  He watched it for several minutes, catching the faintest hints of black robes and the occasional strange glint of light from where it clutched something in its hand.  Something about the figure triggered a vague familiarity and as it continued to stumble in his direction the feeling grew stronger.

 Though it was still a mile or more away, the figure looked up, straight at Kormak's crag-top.  Somehow Kormak instantly knew who it was, despite the distance.

 “Not possible.”  Kormak blinked repeatedly, still staring.  “How in the hells...?”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 9

<I am return!>

 Bail heaved another boulder out of the way and stopped, panting.  Meepo struggled with a rock the size of Bail's head, dropped it onto the pile they'd been making, and fell over.

 “Doing all right there Meepo?” Bail said.

 “Hard... work...” the kobold panted.

 Bail looked down into the hole they'd made stone by stone.  “We're almost to the head,” Bail said.  “A couple more rocks and we might be able to fit you in there.”

 “Enough rest then, let's get those last rocks!” Meepo said, springing up and pulling away a few more stones.  A few minutes later Meepo was crawling through the turtle's partially open mouth.  Bail backed away as the half-buried turtle slowly backed out of the rubble.

 When it came to a stop, Bail walked a lap around it.  The mouth opened when he got to the front and Meepo leaned out.  “It intact?”

 Bail nodded as he ducked into the mouth and headed in.  “I guess this silversteel is as unbreakable as they say.  Not a scratch.”   

 He looked out the turtle's eyes.  “Turtle head to... that henge floating over there.  I guess Harold got the henge working.”

 ***

 Harold touched the True Stone in the center of the henge and lowered it back to the ground as the Turtle approached.  He set the disc of the Skyland's new, drastically diminished bulk onto the ground and stepped off.

 “I see you got what's left of the Skyland dug out,” Bail said.

 “Yes.  I'm thinking we should take it to the Black City.”

 “Take the what to the what?” Bail said, staring at Harold.

 Harold sighed.  “To see if the Black City might serve as an ally against Thessalock.”

 “To see if... an ally... against _Thessalock?_  Did you forget about Iron Sky?  About the fact that in a month or two they're going to destroy everything here?”

 “Did you forget that Thessalock is destroying the Ashen Towers right now?” Harold shouted back.  “If I don't do something, the Crystal Towers will fall!”

“So what?” Bail shouted back.  “You think the Crystal Towers matters now, with Iron Sky literally looming right over our heads?”

 Bail and Harold stood only feet apart, glaring at each other, hands on weapons._ Let's end this_, Harold thought.

 “Looks like I not much changed while I was gone,” a familiar voice said softly behind them.

 They turned to see Kormak standing with a figure in a black robe laced through with faintly shimmering runes.  As the figure pulled back the cowl, Harold saw that it was Suniel, but a Suniel changed.  His skin was darker, his features seemingly more angular and his eyes had a strange glint, as if they glowed faintly from within.  The elf cradled the stump of his left hand in the crook of his right, while he clutched something that flickered and shone like living flame in his other.

 There was a moment of silence as Suniel looked between them with his usual faint smile.  Then Suniel looked around.  “Where's Keeper and Velea?”

Bail turned to Harold and glared, Kormak coughed, looked down, and shifted his weight.

 It was Meepo who answered, beaming with a helpful koboldish smile.  “I think most of him is in a chest inside.  Tough to say now since all the chests are broken from when we dropped, blew up, and buried the Turtle.  Bail says Velea is lost somewhere in another evil world or something with the silver statue thingy, well, if she survived everything going KABOOM that is.”

 Suniel looked slowly between them, his smile fading.  Finally he shook his head, sighed, and walked past them.


----------



## Funeris

This is a pretty good read, Iron Sky.  Can't wait to see where the story twists next.

~Fune


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 29, Part 10

<Thanks for the comment, Funeris.  Amazing that there's only two sessions left.  Seems like ten sessions worth of stuff happened in these last two games...>

 The sun was setting as they sat around a small fire, sheltered somewhat from the wind-blown ash, dust, and debris by the curved side of the Turtle.  The flicker and flash of the True Stones of Light and Lightning sitting before them cast strange shadows in the smoke and haze blown in from the forests burning on the hills.  They ate a small meal in silence, broken only by Meepo and Bail talking softly in draconic, the gust of wind on Turtle's shell, and the snap and crack of the fire.

 Kormak set down his plate, leaned back against the silversteel of the Turtle, and sighed contentedly.  He glanced at the others, seeing them lost in thought; Harold dark and brooding, Suniel distant, Bail contemplative, Meepo distracted.

 “So, now that our happy band is back together, anyone care to explain what the hell just happened?” he said.

 Bail nodded and looked at Suniel, Suniel looked at Harold, and Harold didn't look up from the fire.

 “Harold?” Suniel said.

 Harold looked up slowly, as if returning from someplace distant and grim.  “What?”

 “We were wondering if you might tell us what happened,” Kormak said.  “Unless that was you trying to avoid _your_ story, Suniel...”

 Suniel smiled softly and shook his head, rubbing the scarred, blackened stump of his left wrist.  “No, I just might need more time to... process what I transpired in the Fae Wood, or wherever it was that the Fae took me.”

 Kormak nodded.  “Harold then.”

 Harold was staring back at the fire, seemingly oblivious to the others turning towards him.  Just as Kormak was about to clear his throat or smack the archer – he wasn't sure which impulse would win out – Harold began to speak, his sentences choppy.

 “I waited until the next pulse hit and the Pyramid rearranged itself.  Then I went down, made it before the next pulse.  It was waiting in there.  And two more of them.  The others smaller.

 “It said it had sent Velea through the portal.  Said if I did anything, it would send her deeper into its realm.  I said it didn't matter.  I killed them then, though it tried to use the power of the True Stone of Light on me.”  Harold nodded to said True Stone sitting at his feet.  “When they were all dead, I went to the portal to the thing's... realm.”

 “When Keeper was crushed, I took the Seeking Stones.  When I stepped part-way through that portal, the Stones... reacted, detonated, nearly pulled me apart.  I saw Velea on the other side, in a place where the ground ran sideways like wax, yellow trees reached towards orange orbs that hung in a haze of brown mist.  She saw or heard me call and turned.  I saw her fear and saw her take a step.

 “But time moved differently there, like she walked underwater.  On this side, I could feel the rift begin to come apart, the ground shake.  There was no time.

 “I grabbed the True Stone and fled.  The pyramid shaft was coming apart, more and more as I climbed.  At the end, it collapsed on me.  Had to fight, dig, claw my way out.”

 They were quiet again, waiting to see if Harold had more to say.  After several minutes, it was obvious he didn't.

 Bail, Meepo, and Kormak turned to Suniel.  The elf shivered and tugged his strange new cloak tighter despite the warmth of the fire-blown winds and the warmth of their camp fire.  A wracking cough passed through him, but when he looked up to speak, Kormak saw a strange light flicker in the elf's eyes, like a star emerging from the darkening skies above, then fading.

 “I passed into the Woods,” Suniel began.  “I stepped past some unmarked boundary, out of this world and into... elsewhere...”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 1

 “What exactly happened is difficult to remember and is quickly fading even as I try to think of it,” Suniel said.  “I remember finding a child laying sick in a city street, coughing weakly, so exhausted he could barely move.  The child's mother was holding him and looked up at me with tears in her eyes as I approached.”

 “_'He's so sick',_ she said.  _'The seer said a man would come and take the sickness into himself so my child could live.  Are you that man?'_”

 Suniel himself then broke down in a racking cough that took him several minutes to recover from.  When he finished and began speaking again, his voice was a whisper.  “I thought about it several minutes, then knelt by the child and put my hand on the boy's blazing forehead.  _'Yes, I am that man,'_ I said.

 “I then found myself walking down a crossroads and saw a blind man standing at the center.  He turned as I approached, as though looking at me with his milky white eyes.  _'I do not know which way I will go.  To the east lies a Spinx that will answer any one question, to the west lies a king who will give me any one thing I desire.'_ 

 “I thought and came up with the answer.  _'Knowledge is the ultimate power.  The sharpest sword is useless if you do not know who or what or where your enemy is so you can fight him.  All the gold in the world cannot buy you a gift for your wife if you don't know what it is she truly wants.'_

 “I was then the blind man, stumbling at the feet of the Sphinx, to hear it whisper in my ear the one question I thought to ask.”

“Which was?” Kormak said.

“Shh,” Bail said.  “Go on Suniel.”

 “I was walking into the stone hall of some magistrate, a towering figure in his deep purple robe and long braided beard.  An emaciated man striped with purple bruises lies on the dusty stone at the base of the magistrate's dais.  

The magistrate turned to me as I approached.  _'This man is a thief.  He has admitted openly that he stole bread, many times.  The punishment for thievery has not changed in a thousand years.  Will you pronounce his sentence?'

_  “_'This bread he stole, did he then sell it?'_ I asked.

 “_'No, he stole it for himself,'_ the magistrate said.

 “_'Can't you see that man is starving?'_ I asked.

 “_'The law is the law,'_ he replied.  _'He must lose his hand.'_

 “_'No,'_ I said. _'The law cannot see all things, that is why a magistrate exists, and not just an executioner.'_

 “_'The law is the law.  A crime was committed, the perpetrator was caught, the sentence must be delivered.'_

 “_'It is wrong.'_

“_'Would you take his place?'_

 Suniel smiled wryly and patted the stump of his arm.  “You can see how I answered that."

 “And the two Seeking Stones you have now?” Harold said.  “Where did you get those?”

 Suniel lifted them in his good hand, the giant ruby and the black one that seemed to change shape and luster every time you looked at it.  “I don't remember...  some of what happened meant nothing and was gone as soon as it happened...  

"Some of it I don't remember but I can feel where it went deep inside me and... changed things.  The stones I can't remember getting at all, and yet they are the first things I noticed as I walked out of the smoke of that crater back there.”

 “How'd you get to the crater?” Kormak said.  “Can you fly now or did you use your magic to get there?”

 Suniel smiled.  “I just remember walking, then seeing you up on the rim of the crater.  Before that is the Fae Wood, like snatches of dream, half-real, half-imaginary.”

 They sat around the fire after that, alone their individual thoughts.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 2

 When they woke up the next morning and walked out of the Turtle, Harold and the Skyland were gone.  Bail started cursing up a storm and shattering boulders with his sword.  When he had it all out of his system, he walked back to the others.

“So, Harold stole our Skyland and, along with it, one of our True Stones,” Bail said.  “Suniel, can your magics take us there so we can get it back?”

 Suniel shook his head.  “Presumably the Skyland is moving.  It would be quite dangerous to attempt while not knowing precisely where it is.”

 “So what do we do now?”

 “We still have the Turtle,” Kormak said.  “Can't exactly chase down a flying island with it, but we can head where we want to go... which is where?”

“Port,” Suniel said.

 “Why Port?” Kormak said.  “Assuming there's anything left of it, there's not really much for us there.”

 “Well, there is something we need near there; the True Stone of Water,” Suniel said.

 “So, we're going to try to kill the Aboleth?” Kormak said.  “In the Palace beneath the waters?”

 Suniel shook his head.  “There was no Palace, Kormak, but yes.”

“What's an Aboleth?” Bail said.

 Suniel opened his mouth to speak, but Kormak spoke first.  “It's a big fish... with an Artifact.”

 “Close enough, I suppose,” Suniel said.

 “Fine, let's do that then,” Bail said.

 ***

 Three days later, the Turtle was trundling along the plains southeast of the Endemore ruins.  Suniel was off in the Carriage House working on Keeper, so Kormak, Meepo, and Bail were left lounging around in the Turtle.  They were in the midst of a game of dice – that Meepo was somehow winning despite his seeming inability to comprehend the rules – when there was a _clang_ on the top of the Turtle.

 They stopped and looked around.  “Did you hear that?” Kormak said.

 “Turtle, stop,” Bail said, as they walked to the Turtle's head.  Looking out the eye ports, they saw only windswept plains.

 “Guess we can't see whatever it is from here.  Any volunteers to go out there?” Kormak said.

 Just then, two black, shiny eyes appeared in the eye ports.  Meepo yipped and leaped straight up several feet, his reaction startling Kormak more than the creature sitting on their turtle and looking into it.  The eyes blinked once, then disappeared up out of sight.

 “There seems to be something on our Turtle,” Kormak said.

 “A dragon,” Bail said, walking towards the Turtle's mouth.  “Turtle open.”

 Kormak grabbed his arm.  “Wait, you're going out there?  Didn't you just say there's a dragon out there?”

 “Yes.  Which is why I'm going out to meet it.”

 Bail ducked out of the Turtle's mouth, motioning for Meepo to stay back.

 Kormak sighed, patted Meepo on the head and walked out, mentally preparing himself to be eaten by a dragon.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 3

Harold squinted in the dawning light, seeing the rapidly growing black and green fringe on the horizon slowly grow to a tangled mass of forest.  Standing at the edge of the henge as the now-tiny skyland flew south, he looked to the horizons to the east and west, where the forest seemed to stretch on into infinity, hoping for some glance of this “Black City” he'd heard about and now placed his last hopes upon.

 As the edge of the woods began to pass underneath the skyland, he altered its course, heading west, the glint of the metal warding strips sparkling like diamonds in the grass.  Then he spotted what he was looking for, a little black rectangle in the grass with a small black-cloaked figure looking up at him next to it.

_Black?_ he thought as he ordered the skyland to descend.  _I thought it was yellow last time..._

 He found a small depression to set down in, grabbed the True Stone, and walked towards the black wagon... that looked suspiciously familiar.

 “Suniel?” he said, as he approached.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

 “I'm supposed to be here, what are you doing here?”

 “You're supposed to be here?  Since when?”

 “I'm not sure, I'm still a bit fuzzy on time and place at the moment.”

 “I thought you were back at the crater with Kormak and the lizards.”

 “I was, but since you came here, I was summoned.”

 “Summoned by what?”

 “The forest, more or less.”

 Harold stared at the elf for several minutes.  Suniel smiled back.

 “So you're the Hollowed One now?” Harold finally asked.

 “No.”

 “Then what are you doing here?”

 Suniel smiled and pulled out half-a-dozen cloth-metal ward strips.

 “Isn't the Hollowed One used to be in charge of those?”

 “He used to be.”

 “But you're not the Hollowed One?”

 “Do I look like the Hollowed One?”

 Harold stared at him flatly.  “Ok, well... can you tell me where the Black City is at least?”

“Is that what you _wish?_”

 “That's not a wish, that's a request from one companion to another.”

 Suniel said nothing.

"Do you know where it is?" Harold said, growing rapidly more irritated.

"Yes."

"But you won't tell me."

"I will if it is your wish."

 “Can you at least tell me whether I should go east or west?”

 “If you wish for it to be so, then it shall be done.”

 Harold resisted the urge to attack the still-smiling wizard, turned, and walked back to the skyland.  Minutes later, he was following the edge of the Fae Wood east, towards the Landspear.

 Far below him, Suniel watched until the skyland was out of sight, nodded, and vanished.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 4

Bail took a seat on the sun-warmed silversteel of the Turtle's shell, Kormak and Meepo settling down on either side of them and Hundred-scales the Shining sat down before them, the copper dragon's head about level with them as they sat on the Turtle's back and the dragon sat in the grass beside them.

 “So, half-dragon, tell me about your heritage,” Hundred-scales said, his expressive face showing no malice, only curiosity.  Still, Bail hesitated for a moment, wondering if Hundred-scales was a member of the Undercouncil or...

 “Gilderalin was my mother.”

 “How lucky for you,” the copper said, his expression changing to one of amusement.

 Bail squinted at him, trying to determine what the dragon was thinking.

 “And where are you and your shiny Turtle heading off to?”

 Bail let Kormak answer first.

 “The direction the turtle is pointed.”

 “That's a vaguely amusing response, but with very little content.  Anyone else?”

 “Towards Ashtail's territory,” Bail said, watching the dragon's response carefully.

 Hundred Scales turned towards bail, his expression blank.  “Bastard.”

“What?” Bail said.

 “You heard me.”

 “I know I'm a bastard.”

 “I was talking about Ashtail.”

 “Interesting way to refer to another member of the Undercouncil,” Kormak said.

 “Most members of the Undercouncil don't particularly like each other,” Hundred-scales said.

 “You make it sound almost like you're not a part of the Undercouncil,” Kormak said.  “But I thought all dragons were part of it.”

 “Some dragons get over it.”

 “Get over it?”

 The copper looked at Bail, amusement glittering in his eyes.

 “I was born of the gold, but I worship the Silver,” Bail said, impulsively.  He braced himself, ready for the copper to attack.

 Instead Hundred-scales nodded.  “No unmarked half-dragon is a member of the Undercouncil.  I figured you for Silver as soon as you walked out of the Turtle.”

 Bail's heart surged in his chest, relief and excitement combined.  “Have you heard from Him?  Where is He, what is-”

 Hundred-scales laughed and raised a clawed hand.  “I have not heard from Him in a while, but last I heard, He took out one of Iron Sky's skylands, though the True Stone was lost when he did so.”

 Kormak raised a hand.  “Um... question?  What the hell are you talking about?”

 The copper turned to Kormak.  “The political machinations of dragonkind are rarely of interest to those not directly involved.”

 “That's a convoluted way of saying mind your own business.”

 “All things will be revealed in time,” the copper said.  He reached behind him to pick a large sack that Bail hadn't noticed before out of the tall grass.  He reached inside and pulled out what looked like large silver metal shield or breastplate of some sort and tossed it to Bail.  Bail leaped to his feet to catch it, the weight of the thing nearly knocking him over.   

 As he turned it over in his hands, Bail gasped.  “Is this... its...”

 The copper nodded.  “One of His scales.  You seem to be without armor, perhaps it will work.  And I'm sure you'll see the rest of Him before long.”

Bail nodded, emotion overwhelming him and fighting back tears.  “Thank you.”

 Hundred-scales the Shining nodded and rose to all fours.  “When He returns, He will face the entire might of the Undercouncil.  He's ordered those of us of the Silver not to intervene – we are to 'survive the coming times'.  I wish you luck.”

 With that, the copper dragon launched into the air, the wind-blasts of his wing-strokes nearly blowing Meepo off the Turtle.

 “That was cryptic,” Kormak said.  “Want to tell me what that was all about?”

 Bail turned to him and tapped the quill tattoo on the dwarf's arm.  “Only if you tell me who it is that you'd be reporting it to.”

 The dwarf stared back at him for a few minutes, then turned and began sliding down the Turtle's side.  “Off to Port then!”

 Bail shook his head, motioned for Meepo to follow the dwarf, then followed himself, the magnificent dragon-scale breastplate clutched to his chest.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 5

<Busy week last week, see if I can stay on schedule until I get this thing done!>

 It was late on the third day of flying over the edge of the Fae Wood when Harold spotted the city.  It was tucked right up against the tangled mass of the Fae Wood, long wooden dock jutting out into the Radianus Sink, at least that's what Harold had figured it must be as he flew over it for the last thirty hours or so.  All he knew about the Radianus Sink was that it was a squiggly line on the western edge of maps he'd seen of the southern Freeholds, a couple hundred miles west and slightly south of where the Span reached the mainland.

 The city itself had massive walls, probably 100 feet tall or more, the outer surface of the wall shimmering as though the surface was covered by a vertical wall of water catching the moonlight.  The buildings were tall as well, the ones closest to the wall built up all the way up the sides and others reaching nearly that height.  Harold had never seen buildings so tall or lit by so many lights.  Gleaming white lights burned here and there on building tops, at the base of the chasm-like drops from the rooftops to the streets, and all over the docks.  Fainter yellow lights shone from windows or moved down the busy streets.

 Massive buildings with dozens of huge chimneys billowed black sooty smoke into the air, joined by the twin smoke-stacks of strange ships that chugged across the water.  The air smelled of smoke and strange chemicals and rattles, clanks, and booms echoed from the city.  Even in the middle of the night, the docks were crawling with people loading and unloading ships and almost as many guards, watching the water as though an army was about rise from the depths and attack.

_This must be the Black City_, Harold thought.  _With all these strange contraptions, whatever it took to make those walls and strange buildings and ships, maybe they are the allies the Crystal Towers is looking for.  The allies I _have to _find. _ 

 He touched the True Stone and guided the skyland closer.  As he neared the docks, he squinted at the walls, trying to figure out what they were made out of.  As he got closer, it was the strong winds that helped him figure it out.

 Warding strips just like those the Hollowed One had offered, thousands of them – tens of thousands of them – covered the black stone walls, the wind stirring them like shining metal leaves.  As he got closer, a beam of light nearly blinded him.

 He raised his hand to shield himself from the light, eventually tracing it back to a watch-tower built on the end of the dock. The light followed him down as he brought the skyland to the level of the water.  As he did so, a dozen soldiers in crude black uniforms ran up the dock and leveled weapons like the one he'd seen the Black City soldier use on the Fae creature back at Watersprock.
 “Raise your hands, don't touch your weapons,” one of them shouted.

Harold complied.  “I come from the Crystal Towers,” he said.

 “Never heard of such a thing,” one of the men said.  “Are you from the Fae Wood?”

“No, I just flew over it.  I told you, I'm from the Crystal Towers, you know, the nation east of here beyond the Freeholds?”

 “There is only Gleam, the Black City, the Forest, the wastes, and Charst.  You speak nonsense.”

 Just then half-a-dozen more figures rode up on horseback.  These ones were like the man Harold had met in Watersprock, black uniforms traced with gleaming silver, engraved and rune-covered weapons ready at their sides, their posture, bearing, and numerous scars telling Harold immediately that these men and women were professionals and had seen hard combat.  The way the other soldiers scattered in fear told him something too.

 “Hold out your arm,” one of them said, a short woman with short black hair and a long scar across her face.  She drew her sword and stepped towards where his skyland hovered a foot from the dock.  Harold stared at her for a moment, thinking of killing her on the spot.  _We have to find allies and the Black City is all that there is left,_ he thought.  He extended his arm.

She slashed the point of the blade across his arm and stepped closer, watching the blood trickle from the shallow gash she'd opened in his arm.  

“He's not Fae,” she said.

 Without another word, the six remounted and rode off into the city.

 One of the lesser soldiers, a man whose age was indeterminate due to the scars that covered his face and implied something having tried to bite it off, stepped forwards.  “You don't look like a fanatic of Charst and the Fae Hunters let you go, so I'm thinking you'll probably be wanting to see Lady Hadral.”

 Harold wrapped his arm in a bandage and nodded.  “Just let me land my skyland somewhere first.”

 The soldier nodded and watched as Harold touched the True Stone and lifted away, looking for a place to set down, a faint stirring of hope rising in his chest.  _This may be the Crystal Tower's last chance..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 6

 Harold wrapped an impromptu bandanna around his face to keep out the choking smoke that lay thick like black fog in the streets.  The scarred soldier and half-a-dozen others followed close around him.  He first thought they were there to watch him, a strange foreigner in a place where apparently foreigners didn't really exists, but by the way they looked out into the fog with their weapons ready, he realized they were guarding him.

 “Is there something out there in the city?” he finally said, shouting over the clank and chug of a massive three-chimneyed smoke-billowing building.

 The scarred soldier pointed at a passing wagon full of fish.  A full dozen guards stood around it, weapons ready.  “The city is dangerous.  Its over-crowded and the people are hungry.  They're also suspicious of anyone who looks unusual, like, say, you.”

 “So they think I'm from this Charst place?”

 “Or worse.”

 “Worse as in...?”

 “Did you see the ward-strips covering the walls on your way here?” the soldier said, turning down a narrow alley.

 Harold nodded, keeping a sharp lookout now.  “I saw them, I'm assuming they're there to keep the Fae out?”

 The soldier looked at him with a quizzical expression.  “You know of the Fae?”

 Harold nodded again.  “I've met with the Hollowed One bef-”

 Suddenly all his escorts had stopped, their weapons leveled at his chest.  “You have had contact with that... thing?”

 Harold raised his hands.  “Hold, hold! I didn't ask him for anything.  I've heard of how his promises work out.  I don't want anything to do with him... with it.”

The soldiers stared at him suspiciously down the sights of their weapons for a while longer, until the scarred one lowered his and motioned for the others to lower theirs.  “The Lady said she wanted to see you and the Fae Hunters said you weren't Fae so we'll continue on.  I'd suggest not mentioning the Hollowed One again.”

 They continued on in silence for a while, broken only by the occasional broken cough of one of his escorts, shouting and sounds of violence down a couple streets that set his escorts on edge, the metallic clang and scrape of what his escort called “factories,” and the strange hum of the unnaturally bright white street-lights.

 “This is the Black City, correct?” Harold said as they passed through a wall and began slowly making their way uphill.

 The scarred one shook his head.  “This is Gleam, owned by the Hadral family.  Black City is further to the east.”

 “This isn't the Black City?” he said, his heart sinking.  “This Hadral, she has power in the Black City too?”

 His escorts laughed.  “The Hadral family has a Bank-granted monopoly on magic.  They own most of Gleam.  You could say the Hadral family has power.”

“The Bank?”

 They came to a stop for a moment as he asked that, the soldiers looking at him in surprise as though he had asked what air was.  “The Bank technically owns everything, but the families of the Council hold most of it through monopolies granted by the Bank.  Supposedly the Council and the Bank are supposed to be separate, but everyone knows that that's just a story."

 The fog began to thin noticeably and a while later they came out of it entirely.  Ahead, crowning the top of a tall hill, was a massive, sprawling estate, gleaming with golden opulence and ringed by immaculate gardens and fountains, the vast grounds surrounded by an iron-wrought gate with cleanly-dressed heavily-armed guards every twenty feet.

 When they reached the elaborate, silver-wrought gates, his escort stopped.  “The 'house' of Lady Hadral.  I leave you here.  Good luck.”

Harold watched the dirty, soot-blackened soldiers march back into the fog, then turned, dusted himself off, and walked towards the gate as the blue-liveried guards pulled it open for him.  _Lets hope you're the ally that the Crystal Towers is looking for_, Harold thought.  _Because if not..._

 Harold wouldn't let himself finish that thought.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 7

 The estate guards, dressed in yellow-and-gold uniforms even finer than those worn by the guards outside the gate, led him along the circuitous path through the gardens.  They passed through immaculate flower gardens, a short hedge maze that smelled of honey and had fine marble statues tucked away at seemingly every turn, around the trunk of an apple tree with shining golden apples, through a tunnel of water created by a hundred arcing fountains, past a water garden where fish swam in spheres and cubes and toruses of water that drifted through the air like massive soap bubbles.

 Harold barely saw any of it, growing more and more impatient, frustrated, and angry at each new delay.  _Do you know how many of my people died as you led me through this pointless showcase?_ he thought, wanting to scream it at the escorting soldiers.  Instead he fumed in silence until they reached the main double doors of the estate, towering things of some faintly glowing copper-colored wood tall enough for a giant to walk through.

A dozen soldiers began to open them and he stepped through as soon as there was a crack barely wide enough to do so, ignoring the protestations of his escort.

 The hall inside was obviously designed to impress upon a visitor their insignificance and the power of the owners of the palace.  The hall rose a hundred feet or more into the air where arched domes were painted with frescoes so fine Harold could make out the tiniest details from where he stood. Perfect, gleaming mirrors thirty feet tall and ten feet wide were placed along the length of the hall, Harold's tiny reflection in them making the space seem even taller. The floor was a chess-board of black and white marble, specked with gold, immaculately clean and polished.

Between each mirror was an alcove with more marble statues, floating in the air and slowly rotating.  Before each statue stood a guard, a hundred or more of them in all, each more still than the statues behind them, their uniforms woven with threads of silver and gold, weapons inlaid with ivory, the wooden stocks and grips of some polished wood that shone like gold. 

  Above it all floated a immense crystal chandelier fifty feet wide and nearly as tall lit by a hundred candles, their flicker reflected and scattered in rainbow hues through the ten-thousand facets of the crystals and gems that coated the chandelier like strange magical fruit on a stranger floating tree.

 In the center of the room was a table fifty feet long and thirty wide, the deep red wood of its surface polished to nearly a mirror sheen.  Only two high-backed chairs sat at the table, the one at the near end empty and pulled back from the table.  The other held the largest woman Harold had ever seen.  

She was a mass of soft butter-colored silk and satin, hands encrusted with gems, wrists clinking with silver, gold, and platinum, her red hair curled and laced with pearls.  In front of her was a veritable feast, enough food to feed a village.  At a gesture, a bottle of wine poured itself into a bejeweled goblet that then floated into her outstretched hand.  A faint smile appeared on her face as he reached the table.

 “Come foreigner , sit sit.  Enjoy our humble hospitality, please, sit.”

 Harold sat, relief flooding through him as he sat down across from Lady Hadral, stirrings of hope welling up in his chest.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 8

 Lady Hadral shifted in her chair, sizing up this powerful foreigner.  She could sense the power of the True Stone he carried, could see it stirring his clothing and hair even though he sat in the midst of the Hall.  She sipped her wine and summoned up a smile.  “Tell me stranger, what brings you to our boring little city of Gleam?”

 The man leaned forward, his meal ignored, his eyes gleaming.  “I come seeking allies for the Crystal Towers.”

 “The Crystal Towers?”

 “Even you haven't heard of them?” the man said.  “I had hoped-”

 “Oh, I've heard of them,” she said with a wave of her hand.  “I was just making sure I'd heard you correctly.  Tell me of what brings your land in need of allies.”

 The man took a deep breath and she groaned inwardly.  She knew exactly what was going on in the Crystal Towers, the Rising Plague, the fall of the Span, the siege of the Crystal Towers mainland, the fall of the Span Wall, and the immanent fall of the Crystal Towers as an functional nation.

She feigned interest as he ranted and raved about the fate and future of his doomed country with the manor and bearing of a fanatic.  She'd encountered enough of those in their long-smoldering “war” with the mad priest-warlords of Charst.  When she'd heard as much as she could bear, she nodded and made some sounds about condolence and passing words that she hoped sounded vaguely of friendship and alliance.

 “And what of trade?  You talk of friendship between the Black City and the Crystal Towers, is there some way we might exchange the wares of the Crystal Towers for some of the wonders of the Black City?” the foreigner, Harold he'd called himself, said.

 “Trade?  There is no trade in the Black City, except for between the outposts and farming settlements around the Radianus Sink, Gleam, and the Black City itself.”

 “What about with the Freeholds?  They are your neighbors on the edge of the Radianus.”

 “The common muck and dross of the City are told only of the Fae and Charst.  The monsters, bogeymen, the common enemy, and all that.  I must say, it is nice to see someone from the outside.  It gets so boring here.  A few Fae Bent infiltrations and executions, the occasional Fae monstrosity that makes it into the City, the occasional uprising or fire tearing apart a district or two.  But enough of this idle chatter. You must be completely exhausted from your travels!  A servant will show you to your room in the North Wing, we will talk more of your troubled Crystal Towers and what the Black City can do for you after you have rested.”

 The man nodded and stood up, relief visible on his face.  He looked exhausted.  _Perfect_, she thought as a servant led him out of the Hall.  With a rapid series of subtle hand gestures, she motioned for four of the dozen invisible, magically-silenced bodyguard-assassins that went with her everywhere to follow this Harold.   

_He will make a marvelous pet.  Wait 'till I show him to the others in the City, they'll be _so_ jealous..._

_***_

 Harold was so relieved, his mind churning with possibility, that he didn't notice the subtle poisons until his throat, his hand, and his feet began to go numb.  He stared down at the steaming-hot bath water into which he had been slowly lowering himself in horror.  _Poison!_ He thought.  _The door handle, the food, the water!
_
 He stepped out of the water quickly, reaching for where his clothing, weapons, and the True Stone lay on a bench ten feet away.  His numb feet gave out from under him the hem of his cloak slipped from his paralyzed hand.  He opened his mouth to shout for help but it was swelling shut.  Some sense told him he wasn't alone and he grabbed his sword weakly, all sensation fading from his sword hand and sending it clattering to the tile. 

Blows began raining down from nowhere, his feet kicked out from beneath him, invisible cudgels hammering his ribs, legs, shoulders.

 Then a blow landed between his eyes and he fell backwards into a tunnel of light.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 9

 Bail, Suniel, and Kormak stepped out of the turtle to stand in the still-smoldering ruins of Port.

 “Um, did Iron Sky beat us here?” Kormak said.

 “I'll go ask,” Bail said, walking over to a heavily-loaded ship that looked to be making ready to sail.  A few minutes later he returned.

 “Sounds like one of the other Freeholds decided to make a run on Port.  The city caught fire in the fighting that's now moved out into the countryside,” Bail said.  “From the sounds of it, the Webdyns, Thornspills, and all the other Holdfasts have abandoned it for now.  There's fighting all over the Freeholds...”

 Kormak shook his head.  “Sounds like it's our chance to take the city.  We'll set things right!”

 To the dwarf's surprise, Suniel and Bail nodded.  “We couldn't do worse governing it than the Freeholds have,” Bail said.  “And at least we have an idea of what's going on with Iron Sky.”

 “I was actually, uh, joking.  I have important... business to attend to,” Kormak said.  He raised his hands as the others turned sharply towards him.  “Don't worry, I'm not taking a True Stone and a Skyland with me. I will be back shortly.  Just have some... things to attend to.  Order business and all that.”

 “Be back in soon, we don't have much time spare.  Iron Sky is literally looming larger every day,” Suniel said.  “I'm thinking once we get Port in order that we'd go for the Water Stone.  A day or two, no more.  Will you be back by then?”

 Kormak thought for a moment.  “I'm not sure.  Don't wait up for me if you don't hear from me.”

 “Well, good luck with your mysterious business,” Bail said.

 “Me and my mysterious business accept your well-wishes,” Kormak said with a grin and a wave as he walked off into the city.  _Let's hope I survive and _can_ come back, _he thought, his grin fading as he contemplated the business ahead.  _You don't ignore an order from the Order, especially this kind._..

 ***

 “It's been three days Suniel, I think we've done all we can here for now,” Bail said, watching as the makeshift camp they had organized in the burnt-out remains of Port set out to their dedicated tasks.  “We can't do much to help rebuild, we'd just a couple more hands.  I know you wanted to give Kormak another day, but with how things are out there in the world right now, we have to face the possibility that he's not coming back at all.  Same with Harold.  Iron Sky won't wait-”

 Suniel raised his hand and summoned a faint smile.  “I get it Bail, I get it.  I'd come to the same conclusion earlier, I was just trying to wait until the last moment to head out.  I guess that moment is now.”

 Bail nodded.  “We have the True Stone of Lightning and there are only two of us to worry about.  Do you suggest stealth and guile?  Or just killing everything with lightning?”

 “We do have the True Stone, but it has the Water Stone.  Let's just hope that we can get the jump on it, considering the power these artifacts hold,” Suniel replied.  He smiled wryly.  “Of course, we haven't even considered the possibility of diplomacy...”

 “How'd that work last time?” Bail said.

 “I'd be willing to risk it again.  No need killing when there's a chance of resolving things some other way, even if the chances are slim and our opponent is an aberrant monster like an Aboleth.”

 “Right then,” Bail said, striding towards the beached turtle.  “Off to go kill ourselves a big fish.”

 Suniel rolled his eyes and followed, casting one final glance back at the hopeful energy and bustle of Port.

 “Are we doing the right thing with all this Bail?” Suniel said as they climbed into the turtle's mouth.  “Chasing down these True Stones and what not?”

]Bail shook his head.  “We're doing the only thing.  There's nothing else to do and no one else to do it.”

 “Turtle close, head out into the lake.”  Suniel sighed.  “I guess you're right Bail, I just get tired sometimes.  All the fighting everywhere, suffering, death - and even worse on the horizon.”

 The half-dragon put his hand on Suniel's shoulder.  “We'll set it to right or die in the process.  Either way, we'll have done all we could.  I'm going to eat something and take a nap, things always seem a bit better after a good meal and some sleep.  Maybe you should do the same.”

 Bail turned and walked deeper into the turtle, leaving Suniel staring out the porthole eyes, watching a storm churn the water of the Landspear Lake in the distance before the turtle dove, heading down into the dark of the deep waters.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 10

The locath met them a few miles outside Port, watching them for several minutes before motioning them to go to the surface.  They were at enough depth that it took several minutes for them to get there.

 “Let's hope we speak the same language,” Bail said as the turtle broke the surface of Landspear Lake.  “Turtle, open.”

 “What do the turtle-ones want in our master's lake?” the locath said as soon as they reached the mouth.

 “We came with treasure for your master, as we promised,” Suniel said.

 The locath tilted its head, as if considering what Suniel had said.  “Give the treasure to me and it will go to our master.”

 Bail smiled.  “Surface-dwellers use that trick too.  No, I'm afraid we need to take it to your master in person.”

 “We've met him before,” Suniel added.  “And we gave him a sizable amount.  He'd be unhappy if he didn't get the next part of what we have for him.”

 The locath considered it for a while.

 “Making the master happy is good it is,” it finally said.

 “Do the Locath not mind being ruled by such a beast as 'the master'?” Suniel said.

 “It is our fate to have a master,” the locath said.  “All Locath know this.  Come.”

 The locath dived.

 “Not going to have a master for long,” Bail said under his breath.  They stepped back into the turtle.  “Turtle close.”

 Suniel took a deep breath.  “Let's hope so.  Otherwise, this turtle is going to have a new master.”

 Bail snorted and clapped the elf on the back.  “You kidding?  It's just a fish.”

 “A fish with a True Stone, and that fish is an aboleth.  You're not going to find many fish nastier than that,” Suniel said.  “Turtle, follow that locath.”

 ***

 “That's a nice palace,” Bail said, as the light from their turtle illumined the bottom of the Landspear Lake.

 “It's an illusion,” Suniel said.  “Look at it again.”

 “That's an ill... oh, yeah. Once you know how to look, you can kinda focus differently and see through it,” Bail said.  “So, that big fish head nailed over the cave that the illusion was hiding, whose head is that?”

 Suniel stared.  “Underdakul's.”

 A second later, a dozen massive tentacles reached out of the cave and an immense, sleek brown form pulled itself out behind them, the shimmering blue True Stone looking tiny next to the kraken.

 “That... is not an aboleth,” Suniel said.

 “Trade one fish for another,” Bail said with a shrug.  “Shall we go talk to it?”

 Suniel stared at it for a moment, then nodded and grabbed his things.  “If diplomacy fails, the attack word is 'banana',” Suniel said.  “Turtle open.”

 Bail tried to stop him to ask a quick question, but the elf was already out the door, the shimmering bubble of the turtle's protective magics forming around him instantly.  _Oh well, it's probably not important, _Bail thought as he followed the wizard out.  _I'll ask him later._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 11

 The Kraken literally surrounded them, a dozen tentacles hovering around them and over them, like a cage of thick, cartilaginous flesh. One huge eye stared at them unblinking, an eye used to gazing into the blackest depths now boring into them.  Its speech seemed to sound in the water all around them, the water visibly stirring and silt swirling from the mud beneath their feet with its every word.  Through the gaps in their 'cage', dozens of giant squid the size of trees floated, waiting.

 -The bearers of another Stone, come for what reason-

 Suniel glanced at Bail out of the corner of his eye.  The half-dragon was still, the stillness of a coiled spring.

 “We come to bargain for the True Stone of Water that you bear.  What could be offered that we might use it?”

 Mud swirled up and Suniel _felt_ the sound in his bones, a sound that it took a moment for him to determine was laughter.  What passed for laughter in a kraken anyway.

 -Underdakul the Headless might have given it away, but Nakral the Unconquered, Lord of the Many-limbed, Emperor of the Sea Slave Locath, Ruler of the Sea of the Land Seed and all the waters it touches, he would instead make a demand in return.  The two landlings will let their stone float free and hide back in the Turtle of the Dead Ones, return to the Thin Waters above, and in return they will live-

 “Was that a threat?” Bail said.  He glanced over at Suniel.  “Did this big squid just threaten us?”

 Suniel raised his hand to calm the half-dragon, never taking his eye off the gold-ringed disc of the kraken's massive eye.  “You must know of what threatens the 'Thin Waters' and all of Felskein.  Iron Sky comes to claim all for themselves, even the Sea of the Land Seed.  They are incapable of rest, implacable, they will not stop until there is nothing to resist them.  If we do not stop them, your Empire will fall.  Perhaps you will hold out for a year or even a decade before the surface is conquered, but they will come.”

 -The Deeps will rust them away and the Many-limbed will drag them beneath the tides, pull them apart and cast them to the depths near the Land Seed where the very water devours surface things.  Nakral has lived for ten thousand Deep Tides and he will live for ten thousand more.  It is only for the surfacelings to fear those archaic metal slaves of the Dead Ones-

 “I think he said no,” Bail said.  “It just took him a while.”

 “Thanks, I got that,” Suniel said.  He had little hope of being able to talk his way through this and that little hope was fading fast.  He raised the True Stone of Lightning in his hand, strategically placed where Bail could easily reach it as well.

 “So there is nothing that we might do to convince you to let us even borrow your True Stone long enough to stop Iron Sky?  I swear on my wife's grave, on the True Stones, and on anything else you would name that we will return it when we are done.”

 -The landling would have Nakral for a fool.  Does the elfling believe that Nakral would willingly do this? Does it still believe that it will leave this place with the stone it holds? No, Nakral will make the offer one last time.  Leave the stone, swallow yourselves in your swimming toy of silversteel, flee back to the airy realm.  Otherwise Nakral will take the stone, pull apart the landlings slowly, their agony spanning of a Deep Tide so that Nakral might feel the sounds of their cries in the Deeps, then throw the pieces to the Children of the Many Limbs.  They will feast on the drifting flesh of the elfling and its lizard. Make this decision quickly, Nakral tires of this empty sound-game-

 Suniel hardened himself inside, preparing for what was about to happen.  He took a deep breath, aware of the slow constriction of the kraken's tentacles closing in around them.  He took a deep breath, aware that it may be his last.

“We brought you this banana.”

 There was a moment of stillness, silence.

 -What is a banana-

 The water became a charged, boiling storm of lightning, thrashing tentacles, blinding mud, and death.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 12

 Suniel and Bail stood panting, the water around them literally saturated with ink, silt, blood, blubber, and tentacles.  The massive bulk of the kraken's body lay half-settled into the mud nearby, its immense tentacles stretched around them like fallen trees.  Lightning still arced through the water around them.

 “I think we're out of lightning for the time being,” Bail said.  “Fortunately, they seem to be out of squid, so it balances out.”

 “Don't let go of the True Stone yet,” Suniel said, glancing around at the carnage.  “There might be enough of it still in the water to kill us without the True Stone's protection.”

 Bail had been just about to let go, but between Suniel's warning and the feeling of energy playing across his scales, he figured it might be a good idea not to yet.

 “Do you think those things are edible?” Bail said.

 “They might have been intelligent,” Suniel said, looking about at the dead squid – and parts of squid – that were still settling into the mud around them.  “Eating other intelligent creatures seems somehow something like cannibalism.”

 “I don't think they were intelligent.  Not that intelligent anyway, they attacked to the last man, well, last squid, even when it was pretty obvious that all it was getting them was dead.”

 They stood there for a while longer as the tinkle in the water faded and the water cleared a bit.  “It's eerie down here now, anything keeping us from leaving here?” Bail finally said.

 Suniel slowly, tentatively withdrew his hand from the True Stone.  “Seems safe enough.  Let's get his True Stone and get out of here.”

 They waded through the churned goop of the lake-floor and began climbing the thick rubbery corpse of the dead kraken.

 “You know, speaking of True Stones, why didn't he use his on us, create a big whirlpool or something?” Bail said staring down at one of its massive, lidless eyes.  “That's what I was worried most about.”

 “Remember what I did to... did to my son back on the Landspear?” Suniel said, halting for a moment as they looked about for the True Stone.

 Bail shuddered.  _He turned him into little more than an animal,_ Bail thought.  _A quick chant and he cut up something in his head..._

 “I see that you remember,” Suniel said.  “Well, as soon as the kraken began attacking, I did the same to it.  It was probably no more intelligent than your average shark when it attacked us.”

 “Did I ever tell you I'm glad I'm on your side?” Bail said, still staring into the kraken's eye.  _It still looks evil somehow, even though now its just meat_, he thought.

 “I've regained only a fraction of the power I had before, back Thessalock and I were still working together. If I had it all now I could-” Suniel stopped in mid-sentence.  “Ah, here it is.”

 Bail looked up to see Suniel walking towards him with the bubbling, swirling, head-sized sapphire of the True Stone of Water.

 “Let's get back to the Turtle and get out of here,” Suniel said, jumping off the kraken.

 “Two down, too many to go,” Bail grumbled.  He glanced at the big dead eye one more time, then followed the elf.  

"Oh hey, I just remembered," he called as he followed Suniel.  "I was going to ask you before we left the Turtle.  What _is_ a banana?"


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 30, Part 13

<Note: I took a slight bit of creative license at the very end of this post compared to what "really" happened to make the story fit the mechanics a bit better.  Some Prestige Class powers are hard to justify story-wise, so I had to get a bit creative. 

No one but my players would know the difference, but a couple of them are/were reading this, so I thought I'd post this up front>

 Harold had woken up once before being beaten back into unconsciousness, a stolen glance through swollen eyes at soot-stained wood, a sniff of smoke and coal, the sway and vibration of the blood-stained wood beneath him, and a strange chugging sound was all he caught before black boots appeared before him and iron-studded cudgels fell again.

 He had no idea how long it had been since then, but he had been days alone in his black cell, five paces by four, short enough that his hair brushed damp stone of the ceiling as he paced feeling back into his legs.  The only light was the flickering illumination around the edges of the moldering, iron-bound door of his cell when they slid a metal food tray of crusty bread and watery gruel and a cracked mug of filthy water through a slot in the door.

 He'd tried talking with the jailers but gotten only crude jokes or curses in return.  Without weapons, unarmed, unarmored, unequipped, he felt helpless, hopeless.  He brooded alone in the dark, his mind ceaselessly grinding away at being trapped there, his imagination playing over and over the horrors that his people faced while he sat huddled in the dark.  He'd pounded on the door until his hands ached and bled, shouted at the guards until his voice was hoarse, and paced until the heaps of moldy straw were a pressed mat on the floor.  He hadn't slept more than minutes in days and was almost ready to chew through the door.

 Then it opened.

 As he squinted at the blinding flame of the guard's torches they rushed forwards and seized his arms, dragging him bodily out of the cell.  He tried to resist, cursing them all the way, but he was still blinded by the light and weak from days with little or no food or rest.  They dragged him up several flights of stairs and threw him into a room full of the assorted machines, tools, and instruments of the torturer's trade.

 A fat young man wearing gaudy, rumpled yellow silks and thick white lace sat overflowing a small chair on the other side of the room, four heavily armed, grim looking men standing close behind him.

 “So, this is what a foreigner looks like.  How disappointing,” the young man said, his voice surprisingly high-pitched considering his size.

 Harold resisted the urge to leap up, dig his fingers deep into those quivering jowls and squeeze.  Instead, he stood up, straightened his dirty, tattered uniform, and cleared his throat.  “Why are you holding me?” he growled, his voice still rough.  “Do you treat all diplomats from other nations this way?”

 “He talks!  What a strange accent too.  He'll make a wonderful pet!” The young man looked between his impassive guards as if expecting them to giggle along with him.

 “I'm no pet,” Harold said, clenching his fists at his sides.

 “How do you work that flying chunk of rock Hadral told me about?”

 “Where are my things?”

 “_You_ are a thing, belonging to Tondron Argia, I own you.  Learn my name well, for I am your master now.  The others will be so jealous, I have a foreigner!”

 Harold glanced at the bodyguards, trying to guess how long he'd live after he murdered the bloated popinjay sitting in front of him.

 “What would you think if I killed one of your guards barehanded?” Harold said.

 Tondron seemed taken aback by the question, but it was his guards' time to be amused.  They chuckled and sized him up.

 “Well, if you killed one of them, I guess I'd need a new bodyguard.”

 “What would you do if I did it?” Harold said.  Some distant part of his mind realized he was literally betting his life, but he was beyond caring.

 Tondron thought for a minute, a pleased smile slowly coming across his face.  “I think I'd hire you as a bodyguard.  A pet is one thing, a foreigner who can kill with his bare hands is another.”

 Pudgy fingers snapped and in seconds Harold was fighting for his life – and losing.  He was literally backed against a wall, bleeding from several wounds, at least one serious, his legs shaking from lack of use, lack of food and sleep, and blood loss.  _I'm going to die here_, he thought, the realization striking him as his eyes fixated on the smirk of the huge, grizzled man that was killing him.

 Then the door opened beside him, one of the jailers coming in to watch the show.  In an instant, Harold was out the door.  The jailer stumbled back in surprise and fell as Harold grabbed the man and shoved, the man's keyring coming away in Harold's hand as he ran past.  Shouts rose up behind him as he sprinted full-tilt through the twists and turns of the massive jail.  When he got tired, he stopped at a huge public cell long enough to unlock it, tossing the keyring in and running on before the startled prisoners inside had time to react.

 He had no idea where he was going except up, taking every stairwell he could find.  Below and behind him the tumult grew.  The prison was quickly growing to a full-scale riot.  He managed to find a small guard barracks and changed into one of the uniforms there, grabbing a heavy club and a spear before hurrying on. Somehow he ended up at a small side gate to the prison, the gate guards barely gave him a second glance as they let him through, their attention focused on the shouts and sounds of combat behind him.

 The fog he walked through gave everything an air of unreality, the grimy haze of the streets mirroring his internal state.  Somehow he found himself to the city wall, its size – towering even higher than the one in Gleam – telling him that he must finally be in the Black City on which he had foolishly pinned his hopes.  His hurled spear killed one of the guards at a small, heavily warded gate through the city wall, his cudgel a second, the sword he picked up from the one he'd brained finishing the rest.

 Bloodstained, exhausted, amidst a sprawl of bodies, he lifted the double bars off the gate, slashed a dozen crisscrossing ward strips apart, then, straining, pulled the swollen, rust-hinged door open.  The dark forest pressed close outside, as though the trees themselves were trying to pry their way inside with limb and root and branch.

_Come in then.  _He thought._ They fear you here, more than anything it seems. Welcome to the Black City, may we pull it apart together._

 Something in the forest - a darkness in the deepest shadows - seemed to respond, pulsing and twisting at the edge of the light.  Harold felt it touch him, a gentle caress of dark power.  He smiled and turned towards the city, feeling the Fae pressing close behind like a living thing. Seconds later he stood atop the highest tower of the monolithic prison, staring down at the guards that scurried like ants far below, fighting to contain the chaos he'd created in the prison's depths.

_He wanted me for a pet and plaything.  Lets see who is the plaything when he crawls from his hole.  They have taken my weapons, but I'm far from toothless..._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 1

 Hours later Harold was still waiting.  Hundreds of troops had entered the dungeon and dozens of bodies had been dragged out and dumped in the yard, but no sign of Tondron.  Harold had the feeling his personal belongings weren't there anyway.  They could still be back at Gleam, sold, traded, put on display somewhere.  Regardless, he needed a weapon, something more than the crude sword he had.  He stared out across the smoggy sprawl of the Black City and planned.

_What have you done and where is the Stone_, a voice whispered in his head.
_
The wording of your question implies you already know Suniel, or should I say, Hollowed One?_ he thought back.

 After a couple of minutes of silence he figured whatever magics Suniel had used to link with him had faded.  _Guess I'm on my own then.  Fine, I'll handle this City..._

 His stomach grumbled and he squinted at the setting sun.  _I'll be back for you later Tondron, count on it._

 A second later he was down in the streets, wandering alleyways, dodging patrols, and searching for food.  It was getting dark when the crackle of flame and a short burst of laughter drew him down an alleyway.  He moved quietly up to the edge of the light flickering from the burn barrel.  A small huddle of disheveled men and women in rags were roasting some type of meat over the fire.  Harold's mouth watered as he stepped into the light.

 “Hello, do you think I could-”

 Harold couldn't even finish his sentence before the barrel was kicked over, food snatched away, and people running into the night.

 “Damn,” he said, running after them.  He caught up to one of them and _stepped_ the street behind the man, grabbed the man's arm and pulled the man to a halt.  “Hold, wait!  I'm not a guard, I need help!”

 The man stopped, his expression weary under smeared dirt and soot and long strands of tangled hair.  “What's wrong with your voice?”

 “Wrong with my... I'm not from the Black City if that's what – damn!”

 He caught up to the man a minute later.  “I'm not from the Fae Wood or Charst either.”

 “How can that be?” the man said, suspicion and fear in his voice.  “Where else is there?”

 “There's better places... well one better place at least – if it still stands.  Forget it.  I'm just looking for refuge.  I'm guessing by the way you ran, you're not a friend of the authorities here.”

 The man shook his head.  “The authorities are friends of the Bank and the Council.  The commons are just supposed to stay out of their way.”

 “Sounds about right.  They're probably hunting me right now, I don't suppose there's something you could do...”

Suspicion still tinged the man's features, but he nodded slowly.  “Normally I'd tell you to bugger off, but I've never heard someone talk like you...  maybe what you are saying is true.” 

 The man paused and chewed his lip for a moment. “I'll take you to my boss.  The Black Rat will know what to do, follow me.”

 Harold followed, moving quickly through the dark streets.  _His boss? Some type of resistance movement maybe? Well, lets see what this Black Rat thinks of Harold Trisden._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 2

 Harold awoke to the smell of sewage, the sight of moldering stone, and the tightness of a stiff back from sleeping on a wooden bench.  He stood and stretched, looking around the large, drained tunnel that was apparently the Black Rat's hideout.  Dozens of other figures were waking up too, several already gathered around a burning barrel to cook rats on charred wooden poles.  

Harold normally wouldn't have gone near undercooked rat for breakfast, but today he was so hungry he might eat it raw.

The weary-looking outlaws glanced up at him with brief interest, then returned their gazes to the slowly cooking rats.

 “So, when does the Black Rat get here?” Harold said, warming his hands over the fire.

 Just then Kent, the man who had led Harold to this miserable place the night before, walked in and looked about quickly, jogging over to Harold when he spotted him.  “Sleep well?”

 “Marginally better than in prison.”

 “Well, at least you have the option of leaving here,” the man said with a curt laugh.  “Anyway, I told the Black Rat about you and he's interested.  He wants to know a little bit more about you before he comes to meet you in person though.  Namely, how could you be of use to the Resistance?”

 “How?  Something like this.”

 Harold ceased to be in front of Kent and reappeared behind him.  His new trick didn't have the effect he desired.

 “Fae Bent!” Kent screamed at the top of his lungs, running away from Harold so fast he slipped and scrambled on all fours away as he got back to his feet.  There was more shouting and screaming and a few minutes later Harold had the place to himself.

 Harold stood there shaking his head and sighed, then walked over to the burning barrel and grabbed one of the discarded rats.  He was just finishing it off when three Fae Hunters showed up in their elaborate silver-runed uniforms, armed to the teeth with exotic and obviously magical weaponry.  

He squinted at them, wondering if he could take one down before the others dispatched him.  Judging from his earlier experience in the jail, he wasn't sure - perhaps caution was the wiser choice.  _It's time to go._

When he re-formed he immediately fell, landing hard in the street amidst a crowded marketplace.  His sudden appearance had a similar effect in the densely-packed market as it had in the hideout, but there were a hundred times more panicked people around him now and he already spotted Fae Hunters pushing towards him through the fleeing crowds when he _stepped_ elsewhere.

 He reappeared on a the roof of a massive building with a dozen brick smoke-stacks billowing heavy clouds of black soot.  In spite of the cover of smoke, a Fae Hunter riding a griffin spotted him and waved as he banked his griffin towards Harold.

 The gesture took Harold back and he waited warily, ready to _step_ away if the Fae Hunter proved hostile.  The griffin landed with a final flap of its strong wings, its claws digging deep into the tarred shingles of the roof.  The Fae Hunter was a woman with long blond hair, a silver rune glowing on her cheek.  “You must be the foreigner, the Huntmaster would like to speak to you.”

 Harold pointed his sword at the woman.  “How do I know you aren't sent by Tondron?”

 “Tondron?” the woman said, blinking in surprise.  “You really are a foreigner.  The Hunters are independent of the Houses, the Bank, the Council, all of it.  The Huntmaster will tell you more.  All you need to do is drop that weapon, give me your hand, and we'll be off.  There's even a warm bath, food, and clean sheets in it.”

 “Last time I was offered food and a bath, I was poisoned and ambushed.”

 “Well, if you don't come we'll be forced to hunt you down and take you alive for questioning anyway.  This way is much easier for all involved.  Honestly, I'd rather be out hunting the Fae beasts that slipped into the city and tracking down whatever bastard opened the Quartertown gate than wasting my time chasing you.  Decide quickly.”  She placed her hand on a silver-runed weapon he'd heard called a pistol that sat holstered on her leg.

 Harold thought hard for a minute, then tossed his blade off the building, and reached for the woman's hand.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 3

 Harold set his empty plate and mug down on the bed stand and stretched out, looking through the glass of his tower window at the snow falling outside.  It felt good to lay on a bed after too many days in sewers, streets, and cells, even though doing so made him feel restless and guilty.  _While I'm lying here, people are dying in the Crystal Towers, hundreds, thousands of them.  The longer I take, the less of the Crystal Towers there will be when I return!_

 His mind ran deeper and deeper down its familiar spiral, but he somehow drifted off.  He awoke to the sound of his door opening, reaching for weapons that weren't there.  A man in Fae Hunter blacks walked in, by his bearing a warrior though he carried only a single slender blade at his side.  “The Huntmaster would see you now,” the man said.

 “For what purpose?” Harold said, rising to his feet and straightening the simple, comfortable clothing they'd given to him.

 “For whatever purpose he likes, this is his tower after all.”  The Hunter turned and began to walk away, not even bothering to see if Harold was following him.

 Harold did follow and after fifteen minutes and dozens of flights of stairs, they arrived at a large metal-bound door with two scarred, dangerous-looking Hunters in full battle regalia sizing Harold up.  The Hunter that had escorted him nodded to them and left without a word.

 “He's waiting for you,” one of the Hunters said, pulling the door open.  Harold straightened again and walked in.

 Inside was a large study, the ceilings tall as if built specifically to accommodate the massive black bookcases that covered most of the walls.  A simple bed sat next to a large stone fireplace and another door stood open to a large stone balcony.  A slender figure wrapped in a thick, black-furred robe traced in silver ermine sat in a stout leather-backed chair by the balcony, a large tome on one knee.  The figure looked up into the storm as Harold approached, revealing fine-boned elven features and long silver hair.

Harold stopped a respectful distance from the elf and stared out into the storm as well.  He didn't acknowledge the cold as they waited there, though the waiting itself quickly began to wear on his patience.  He was about to say something when the Huntmaster spoke.

 “The people of the Black City seem to be mistaking you for a Fae Bent quite frequently, Harold Trisden of the Crystal Towers.”

 “How do you know who I am?  Do you have word from the Crystal Towers?”

“All I know is that my Hunters won't waste any more time chasing you around the City instead of chasing down the Fae Bent.”

 “How do you know I'm not a Fae Bent?” Harold said, taking a step closer as the anger that lived close under the surface rose.

 The Huntmaster made a dismissive gesture.  “My Hunters tested you when you first arrived in Charst and watched you when you were led to the prisons.  I trust my people implicitly.  You just escaped yesterday anyway, if you had somehow become a Fae Bent in the mean-time, it wouldn't show in your blood for several days yet, so it doesn't matter.”

 “Is this how your people treat diplomats from other nations?” Harold said, purposefully changing the subject as his temper cooled.  “I was assaulted, humiliated, imprisoned, and my belongings taken within hours of my arrival!”

 The elf waved his hand and glanced back at his book.  It was beginning to bother Harold that the elf hadn't once looked at Harold, as if he was barely worth the Huntmaster's time.  “I care not what the Houses do. The Fae Hunters have never gotten involved in city politics for our aim is higher – the preservation of the Black City as a whole.  A single Fae Bent creature can cause the destruction of hundreds, whole families slaughtered, homes destroyed, panic, mayhem...

 “We captured and executed several inmates from the prison you escaped from heading out through a small sealed door to the Fae Wood not far from the prison.  Already hundreds of people have died from the Fae-twisted creatures that slipped in before we could seal the gate and dozens of our best Fae Hunters are out tracking the Fae monstrosities as we speak.

 “The complaints of one foreigner do not weigh heavily upon me.  It is only for purposes of curiosity that I haven't had you killed yet.  So tell me, how fares the outside world?”  He finally turned and looked at Harold, his eyes a cold silver, glinting in the firelight.

 “The Crystal Towers was under siege by the Ashen Tower and sabotaged from within by a necromantic plague, the Span Wall has fallen and the Crystal Towers now fights for its very survival.  This is why I came, seeking allies-”

 “What about the rest of the world?  I get so little information and at times I find it valuable to know what else goes on.”

 “The rest of the world?” Harold said, staring into the Huntmaster's cold eyes.  “If the Crystal Towers falls, there will be nothing of value left in the world.  It is the great hope, if only the Ashen Towers could be broken, others would see that the Crystal Towers it the only-”

 The Huntmaster waved Harold to silence and it was all he could do to not attack the elf. He bit his tongue, his fists clenched.

 “I see now,” the Huntmaster said, turning back to his book.  “That is all.  Know that if you enter the Black City again, my Hunters will kill you without a second thought.”

_If I had my weapons, you would eat those words,_ Harold said, fists clenched.  The door swung open and the female Hunter that had brought Harold here was waiting for him.  He fumed, planing his revenge on the Huntmaster, on the Houses, on the Black City itself.   

 They launched from tower that rose hundreds of feet out of the heart of the Fae Wood and flew south.  An hour later he stood on the beach, the Radianus Sink to his back, the Fae Wood to his front, and the glinting line of the Hallowed One's prayer strips stretching out on either side of him.  He stood for a moment, deciding, then turned east, _stepping _rapidly along the shore towards Gleam.


----------



## Theo R Cwithin

Just found this yesterday, and read it straight through... really great stuff!  
Thanks for posting this, looking for ward to following the last few sessions.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 4

<Notes: Glad you enjoyed it the_orc_within.  I wasn't feeling very inspired to write, but saw your post and thought I could write up something even if it wasn't very long.  Also, this is the last session.  I happens to have been about 9-10 hours of play time though and a _ton_ of stuff happened.  I'd guess it's going to be about 30 posts to finish it...>

 Harold stared at Hadral's estate from the rooftop of one of Gleam's sprawling factories, squatting like a gargoyle while a sea of black industrial smoke roiled just below the rooftop.  He watched the guards change at the ornate fence surrounding the palatial mansion, watched Hadral's small army of private troops marching in a courtyard.  He studied the small three-story officer's barracks set slightly aside from the main estate and planned his attack.

_She thinks she can attack Harold Trisden and get away with it?  With this new power that courses through me I'll get my bow back and reap a bloody swath through her palace with it._

 Squinting at the morning light, he focused on the barracks and _stepped_ off the roof and into the distant building.

 He was in some sort of indoors outhouse, with room for ten men to sit at once.  Only one was there and Harold took three quick steps, grabbing the man's sword from the belt around his ankles and running the man through even as he shouted in alarm.  A second later there were three more of them in the room with him, thirty seconds after that, he was again alone and stepping over the bodies and around the corner of a short hallway into what looked to be the main barracks to face a double line of ten soldiers, five kneeling with five standing behind them, the long-barreled weapons called rifles aimed at the doorway Harold had just walked through.

 In the small space, the weapons firing sounded like being inside a thundercloud, the flash like a dozen lightning bolts.  Harold _stepped_ instinctively and found himself standing in what appeared to be an individual room, probably for a high-ranking officer.  He winced and clutched at the bloody gouge in his chest.  One of the weapon's projectiles had apparently been just breaking the skin of his chest when he'd _stepped _and others had nicked his arms and legs.

 Quickly, he opened a small wardrobe and pulled the soiled clothes from the bottom of it, tying off his wounds and wiping his blood from the floor.  That done, he scanned the room quickly for more weapons and found none.  The room belonged to a woman judging by the cut of the uniform draped over a chair and the notes in the journal by the bedside.  As he glanced through its pages, the words inside reminded him of the young soldiers Crystal Towers, even now probably dying by the dozens and hundreds, spending their lives by the hundreds to give the Crystal Towers another day of life against the crushing assault of the dead.

_And no one will help! Not the Freeholds, not the Black City, not even my companions!  Can they not see?  Without the Crystal Towers there is no hope, what care I if Iron Sky comes if there is now Crystal Towers left to oppose it?  Felskein will fall without us.  I _must _find some way to save my homeland, there must be _something_!_  Harold realized he had crumpled and torn the pages of the journal in his clenched, shaking fist.  He glanced around and tossed the book under the bed.   

_If they will not help then they are useless, those who stand in my way are enemies of the Crystal Towers and doom themselves.  Hadral and all who willingly associate with her will pay the price._

 He slid under the bed and waited, eventually dozing off as he waited for nightfall and bloody vengeance.  He slipped off into dark dreams with a final thought - _they won't see this coming._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 5

 Harold lay in wait under the officer's bed, waiting for the woman to finally go to sleep.  She'd come in, sharpened her sword for a while, then had chatted with someone who came to the door about some uncooperative new recruit.  He watched their feet from under the bed, gritting his teeth at every minute of wasted time.  _People are dying in the Crystal Towers as you chatter about nothing!_

 Finally, the other officer wandered off and the woman came back next to the bed and took off her boots and uniform, sliding the boots under the bed and hanging the uniform up in the wardrobe before laying down.  Her small lamp was on for a while longer as she read a book.  Harold considered killing her then, but the risk of her rousing the alarm as he attacked was too great.

 Then the book thumped onto the nightstand, she blew out the lamp, and the bed frame creaked as she settled in.  Harold waited another ten minutes or so, then _stepped_ out from under the bed.  The woman lay sleeping with her back turned to him.  All he saw was her hair splayed out on the pillow, a thick blanket pulled up next to her chin.  Harold took two steps towards where her sword hung from her chair and drew it quietly.  He tested it a few times in the air and was disappointed.  It was well-made, but it didn't have the feel of a magic weapon– like the weapon was reading your mind and going where you wanted it before your body had even begun to move.

 He sighed, walked over to the bed, and silently dispatched the woman.

 After wiping off the blade, he walked to the hallway and peeked out. It was lit by several lamps, all the doors closed and dark but the one adjacent to the room he was in.  It lay open a bit, flickering light and a soft lullaby emanating from inside.  He counted the doors, memorized their positions, then silently pulled door to the room he was in closed.

 Five minutes later, all the officers were dead except the singing woman.  Not one had stirred from sleep to sound an alarm.  Not one had a weapon of even minimal arcane potency – though one had a longbow and a quiver of arrows that looked ancient on display over the bed.

 Harold stood in the hallway outside the cracked door with the bow now, testing the weapon's pull and nodding as he drew an arrow and nocked it.

 When he kicked the door open and stepped in, he stood facing a young blond woman sitting in a chair in a nightgown, frozen in the midst of braiding her hair, the lullaby forgotten as she stared at him with a gaping mouth.  The woman looked too young to be an officer and her face reminded him of a beautiful young woman he had half-fallen for back in the Crystal Towers of his youth, a young woman that had probably been cruelly murdered by some Ashen Towers monstrosity by now.

 He put two arrows into the woman's chest before she had a chance to scream, the force of the arrows striking throwing her out of her chair and slamming her against the wall.  She clutched at them gasping, staring at him in shock as he put a third arrow between her eyes.

 After a perfunctory search of her weaponry, he grabbed her lamp, pulled out the burning wick, dumped the oil inside onto the bed and tossed the wick onto it.  The room was a raging conflagration in seconds.

 Harold _stepped_ back to his perch on the factory that overlooked the estate, watching the barracks burn with grim satisfaction.  _With that distraction, time to recover my weapons, find Hadral, and make her pay._

_Step._


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 6

 Harold ducked behind a counter, listening closely to see if the cooks had noticed him as he _stepped_ into the mansion.

 “What is going on out there?  It looks like the officer's barracks is on fire,” one of them was saying.

 “I don't know, but whatever it is, I heard Lady Hadral just arrived, so get back to those cakes.  There'll be hell to pay if she gets hungry and we don't have anything to feed her.”

 “I wonder if it's one of those Fae Bent creatures.  I heard that they found one of the forbidden gates to the Fae Wood open near the north prison.  Who knows how many got in - and I don't want to even know _what_ they were.  I saw a squad of Fae Hunters killing something in an alleyway on the way here.  Whatever it was they were fighting filled up half the alley and killed two of the Fae Hunters as I stood there.”

 “And you were stupid enough to stand nearby and watch?  The Fae creature might have gotten away and killed you in passing, or the Fae Hunters might have gotten suspicious and killed you or taken you away on their griffins to never be seen again on just the suspicion-”

 “I'm not that stupid, give me a little credit.” There was a pause and the rattling of pans and plates.  “Seems like an awful waste of food just making this and letting it sit here on the off chance that Lady Hadral-”

 “Shut up you fool!” The other's voice dropped to a whisper that Harold had to strain to hear.  “She's probably got a dozen of those invisible assassins of hers here.  There could be one in this room right now, listening to every word we say!”

 Harold froze for a second, glanced around the room, then _stepped_.

 ***

 Someone was in the hallway he _stepped_ into with him.  He grabbed her mouth and slammed his shoulder into a nearby door, dragging the woman behind him.  In one quick motion he pressed her against the wall by the hand over her mouth, closed the door, and drew a knife, placing the point under her chin.

 The woman was young, probably in her mid-teens.  Strands of red hair dangled down out of the white cap she wore on her head and freckles dotted her face.  Her eyes were huge.

 “I'm going to remove my hand.  Don't make a sound or...” he waved the dagger in front of her face.  “Got it?”

 She nodded and he withdrew his hand, ready to kill her if she made a move or tried to scream.  Neither occurred, the fear in her eyes turning rapidly to curiosity.  “Like something out of a bedtime story.  Are you here to kill Hadral?” she whispered.

Harold stared at her, trying to gauge the intent behind the question.  “Why do you ask?”

 “Everyone thinks someone is here to kill her, that's why they killed most of the officers of the household guard and lit their barracks on fire,” she said.  “You don't look like your from the Black City, are you from... somewhere else?”

 “You don't think I'm a Fae Bent?”

 She pursed her lips as she considered it.  “I was almost killed by a Fae Bent a couple years ago.  You don't have the same feel to you.”

 “What if I told you I was from a distant land called the Crystal Towers?”

 Her expression lit up.  “I knew it!  They tell us there's nothing beyond the Fae Wood except for the Red City and its fanatics, but I saw one of Hadral's maps when I was cleaning one of her rooms, it had all sorts of stuff out there, in fact, the Fae Wood barely took up any of the map at all and the Black City was little more than a speck and a scribble!”

 Harold studied her as she talked.  He smiled.  _If I play her right, I could use this one,_ he thought.  _Eyes and ears in the mansion to scout for me, like a mouse..._

 “The world beyond is vast and wild,” he began, adopting the posture and tone Suniel's troubadour did whenever he told a story.  “The Crystal Towers stands like a beacon, the mightiest and purest land in all of Felskein...”

 Within minutes she was enraptured by his stories.  _I have her now, _ he thought, a plan forming in his head.  _She could be _most_ useful._


----------



## steeldragons

This is really an amazing story. I could totally see this published.

Or in comic form. Very entertaining. Thanks a lot.

--SD


----------



## steeldragons

...


----------



## steeldragons

*the Felskein crew*

Iron Sky-

Thank you for the very enjoyable narrative.

I've done a sketch of, what I think, is the whole motley crew from the beginning (plus a few NPCs: No Tongue, Keeper and the Silver Guardian).

Not done, obviously, but I hope you and your players will enjoy it and I got, somewhat, close to their vision. My biggest thing is...I have absolutely no clue what the "quor'rel" looks like. I get it's a double bladed sword that somehow detaches to two blades and can be reconfigured to be a bow...but I really was at a loss so let me know if I'm close. Thanks.  

If you like it, I would be happy to ink and possibly color it for you guys...and hopefully get a real scan of it when I get a scanner. haha. These are uploaded photos of it, hence the not so great quality.

Anyway, thanks again. Keep up the great writing work and enjoy.
--SteelDragons

Ok...don't get what's wrong. Sorry. You can see them here,  Steel Dragons' Art


----------



## Sanzuo

steeldragons said:


> Iron Sky-
> 
> Thank you for the very enjoyable narrative.
> 
> I've done a sketch of, what I think, is the whole motley crew from the beginning (plus a few NPCs: No Tongue, Keeper and the Silver Guardian).
> 
> Not done, obviously, but I hope you and your players will enjoy it and I got, somewhat, close to their vision. My biggest thing is...I have absolutely no clue what the "quor'rel" looks like. I get it's a double bladed sword that somehow detaches to two blades and can be reconfigured to be a bow...but I really was at a loss so let me know if I'm close. Thanks.
> 
> If you like it, I would be happy to ink and possibly color it for you guys...and hopefully get a real scan of it when I get a scanner. haha. These are uploaded photos of it, hence the not so great quality.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again. Keep up the great writing work and enjoy.
> --SteelDragons
> 
> Ok...don't get what's wrong. Sorry. You can see them here,  Steel Dragons' Art




Holy poop!  I need these in super high-res, stat!


----------



## steeldragons

Soon as I get a scanner (or access to a scanner) I'll be happy to get you those Sanzuo. Glad you like it.

Good job (both of you) on the Iron DM, btw. They were also entertaining reads and I got a good chuckle out of your titles in the head-to-head round. haha.

--SD


----------



## Sanzuo

Yea, the quor'rel looks perfect.  It's basically a crescent-shaped double sword.


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## steeldragons

Great! Thanks Sanzuo.

I'd really like to include "Dog" in there...don't suppose you have any idea what kind she is. haha. Since he keeps "saddles bags" on her, I'm picturing something like a russian wolf hound or deer hound...which would basically be as big as Kormak, himself, is. Is that right? Or, I suppose, a shepherd or rotweiller would do as well...Thoughts?


----------



## Sanzuo

It was a dog.  I don't think it's in the story, but Bail suggested multiple times that if Kormak died they should eat it.  You've nailed everyone else so far, so I say go for it.


----------



## steeldragons

LOLOL. Ok...Thanks.


----------



## steeldragons

And just so you know, Sanzuo/Bail...I am looking for a way to include Meepo too.  Some of the NPC/periphery beings (like the Guardian, Suniel's goblins, Meepo and even Dog) add so much to the style and flavor of the group, I feel they deserve to be a part of the image. 

If there were a way to include the silver turtle (need a MUCH bigger picture. hahaha) I would.

Just my opinion of one of the things I really enjoy about/gives depth to the narrative.

--SD


----------



## Iron Sky

Glad you've enjoyed it steeldragons.   Your drawings of the cast are awesome.  Only thing that didn't make me go "yeah, that's  exactly what they'd look like" was Keeper. He looks a bit too...  droid-like?  Frail? I picture him looking more like your sweet conception of the guardian...

 Tiny quibble though, we were all blown away looking at what you have so far, can't wait to see what it's like  when it's done.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 7

 Harold awoke, sneezed, and froze, listening for the slightest sound that might tell him one of Hadral's assassins had found Harold's hiding place in a dusty, abandoned wing in the massive estate.  After several minutes, he nodded and climbed out from under the bed, then looked out the window.  It was about time.

 He _stepped_ into the room where he'd first encountered Sarah.  His timing was perfect.  He'd just sat down on the bed when she opened the door.  Her face lit up as she saw him and she quickly stepped inside.

“I brought you food,” she said, pulling a small lumpy cloth bundle from under her apron.  “I figured you haven't probably eaten much lately.”

 Harold gave her an almost-genuine smile as he reached for the bundle, rubbing his stomach at the now familiar ache of hunger.  “What did you find out for me?” he said as he wolfed down the biscuits and fruit she handed him.

 “Well, she's definitely here.  They've hung a dozen conspirators involved the attack on the barracks the other night and one of the cooks died suddenly in mid-sentence after saying something unpleasant about Hadral.”

 “Are there any rumors of new relics she might have?  A flying island or a giant elemental gem?”

 She shook her head and sat down next to him on the bed, immediately sliding closer to him.  “I haven't heard anything about anything like that but everyone knows about the key.”

 “The key?”

 “Yeah, there's a magical gold key that she wears on a necklace at all times.  If she opens any door in the palace with the key, it'll lead her to the her Armory.  If she took those wonderful things from the Crystal Towns-”

 “Crystal Towers.”

 “Right, those stolen relics that will let you save your homeland,” she said, moving a little closer and sighing.  “It's so heroic...”

 He slid to the end of the bed.  “So the relics would be in the Armory?  Is there anywhere else they might be?”

 She followed him.  “That's it, she keeps them under lock and key.  She controls all of the magic in the Charst and her family regulates all the magic in the Black City as a whole.  If we want to get to the holy relics, we'll have to come up with some plan to get past Hadral's assassins, get the key, and get to her Armory without getting caught-”

 She stood suddenly her head cocked to one side.  “Damn, that's Resa calling me, I have to go.  I'll be back as soon as possible.”

_Great, so in order to get my weapons so I can kill Hadral I have to kill Hadral,_ he thought as Sarah slipped out of the room.  _Now what the hell am I-_

 –_What have you gotten into, are you safe–_

 The question was in Harold's head, but they weren't his thoughts.

_-Suniel.  I'm safe but the True Stone isn't–_

 He waited several minutes, waiting for another word, another thought from Suniel.

 Suddenly there was a shimmer all around him and he wasn't alone.


----------



## steeldragons

Iron Sky said:


> Glad you've enjoyed it steeldragons.   Your drawings of the cast are awesome.  Only thing that didn't make me go "yeah, that's  exactly what they'd look like" was Keeper. He looks a bit too...  droid-like?  Frail? I picture him looking more like your sweet conception of the guardian...
> 
> Tiny quibble though, we were all blown away looking at what you have so far, can't wait to see what it's like  when it's done.




Good call Iron Sky...I had, always thought of Keeper specifically as droid-like. haha. I can easily adjust him to a more...guardian-like.

Really glad you like it. Will post it again as the piece progresses.

...and thanks for the XP. 

--SD


----------



## steeldragons

*How's this?*

Fiddled with Keeper and threw Meepo in. Doesn't look like Dog's gonna make the cut. Sorry Kormak. But Meepo fills the space well and works composition-wise with Not Tongue.


----------



## Iron Sky

steeldragons said:


> Fiddled with Keeper and threw Meepo in. Doesn't look like Dog's gonna make the cut. Sorry Kormak. But Meepo fills the space well and works composition-wise with Not Tongue.




Looks great.  I especially dig No-Tongue, his expression and the way he's peeking out is perfect.


----------



## Volabit

Nice! That's pretty sweet Steel. Impressive work you have come up with, and looks great with pencil sketching. It is greatly appreciated that you take such time to do this work. I feel likes it's not my place to give suggestions to an artist, for you have created something wonderful indeed, but the one thing I could humbly suggest is with Suniel.

This is a person that had to scramble the brains of his own lost son, only later to have him be murdered. A person that has lived far too long and seen far too much death. Correct me if I am wrong IronSky but on the character sheet we didn't even list his age as a number, just something far beyond what is normal. He is old and weathered, his face is sad and lost in a distant time. Joys come from minor things, for anything more is pushed back by memories of the past. I guess in a nutshell, hairless, aged, and scarred, most of his body was scarred up/etched anyways. But to be fair, what you have made is great, and I feel your interpretations are your right as an artist, just happy to see someone take so much interest. Thankyou for your work SteelDragons


----------



## Sanzuo

Also, I think elves are supposed to be sort of "ageless."  They don't get old and wrinkly.


----------



## steeldragons

Volabit said:


> Nice! That's pretty sweet Steel. Impressive work you have come up with, and looks great with pencil sketching. It is greatly appreciated that you take such time to do this work. I feel likes it's not my place to give suggestions to an artist, for you have created something wonderful indeed, but the one thing I could humbly suggest is with Suniel.
> 
> This is a person that had to scramble the brains of his own lost son, only later to have him be murdered. A person that has lived far too long and seen far too much death. Correct me if I am wrong IronSky but on the character sheet we didn't even list his age as a number, just something far beyond what is normal. He is old and weathered, his face is sad and lost in a distant time. Joys come from minor things, for anything more is pushed back by memories of the past. I guess in a nutshell, hairless, aged, and scarred, most of his body was scarred up/etched anyways. But to be fair, what you have made is great, and I feel your interpretations are your right as an artist, just happy to see someone take so much interest. Thankyou for your work SteelDragons




Thank you Vol for your input. I am glad you like the work. But I'm still working under the understanding that elves are, practically, immortal.

As for the "etchings"... according to Iron Sky's descriptions in the narrative, from the beginning to now, they flare or 'glow" during his working of magic...and "out of the corner of the eye" to the average observer. Not noticeable in the normal "day to day". Again, he's an elf...the wear and, emotional, tear on him...is internal, as far as I understand for elves (of any world) in general or have read in the narrative. Sucks to be sure...and I could certainly make him LOOK more "world worn" but he is supposed to be an elf = Ageless beauty personified. 

If you are Suniel's player, I will certainly try to make him as close to your mind's image as possible. These sketches were working off of my understanding of the descriptions of the narrative and the character.   

Thanks.
--SD


----------



## steeldragons

Comments 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



 Volabit: 
  Thanks for the Art


You are certainly welcome.


----------



## Volabit

I was Suniel's player, but no worries, do what you feel is best because that is what is important. I would describe more about Suniel's past but probably not all that important, better to keep an air of mystery. Just lots of horrific things done by and done to him, we did leave a lot ambigous with him.

I think this next paragraph I typed like 4 times, and just decided to write this run on sentence instead, never sure on how much info to give about our characters and this is a story by Iron Sky not me.


----------



## steeldragons

Well, thanks again, Vol. Will do. And thanks for creating a pretty sweet character...ambiguity and all.


----------



## Iron Sky

I'm with steeldragons on this, elves don't appear to age in general D&D mythos, more internal changes than external - his Suniel is pretty much exactly as I envisioned him.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 8

 “So, wait, these locath seem to be saying that we're _their_ rulers too,” Kormak said, turning to Bail.

 Bail motioned for the workers to get back to rebuilding the dock they were working on.  “So, we own Port _and _Landspear Lake now?”

 “I guess, I don't speak fish that well or they don't speak Common that well, one of the two.  Why don't you talk to them?”

 Bail sighed and glanced over at the Turtle.  “I wish Suniel would finish rebuilding Keeper already.  He's much better at this diplomating stuff than I am.”

 “Or maybe if Harold was here...” Kormak said with a grin.

 Bail gave him a long, flat look then dusted off his hands and went to speak with the locath bobbing in the bay.

 “So, the dwarf says that we're your kings now... or something.”

 The locath nodded furiously.  “Underdakul rule Locath.  Underkakul die.  Nakral rule Locath.  Nakral die.  You rule Locath.”

 “Well, let's hope we don't continue on in that particular legacy,” Kormak said.  “There's a definite pattern there.”

 “What do our new rulers ask of us?”

 Kormak and Bail stared at each other for a few seconds, then turned back to the locath at the same time.

 “I want a pony and a toy ship and-”

 “Trade with Port, open up shipping.  If there's any of the Freehold settlements out there in the Steamport area, don't harass them.  Guide them through storms, help them find their way.  Port needs all the help it can get right now.”

 The locath nodded rapidly and disappeared under the water.

 “I liked my list better, but yours had a certain lordly ring to it.  Maybe you're getting the hang of this.”

 Bail grunted and turned to see Suniel and Keeper standing behind them.

“I see Keeper is back in one piece,” Bail said with a nod to Suniel.

 “Any word from Harold while I was... indisposed?” Suniel said, returning Bail's nod.

 “No, he's probably gone back to the Crystal Towers,” Kormak said.  “See if he can't let the Ashen Towers steal back what's left of the Skyland.”

 “I'll check. Let's head back where there's less distractions,” Suniel said.  He pulled out the doorknob, planted it firmly in the air, turned it, pulled, and stepped through the doorway into the near pandemonium of the Black Coach House.

 They followed him through the courtyard, through the main doors, and into the Library.  Suniel pulled out several books and a handful of strange crystals. A few minutes later, the crystals were laid out in an array on a table, the books sitting open nearby for easy reference.

 Suniel waved his hands over the crystals, murmured under his breath for a minute, then stared intently at the table in silence for several seconds.  When he spoke again, his lips barely moved and Bail could only barely hear what the wizard was saying.

 “What have you gotten into, are you safe?”

 Bail and Kormak looked around, as though expecting someone to appear and reply.  Keeper just shook his head.  “Sending.”

 “Oh, sending.” Kormak said with a nod.  “That makes total sense then... what?”

 Suniel sighed.  “Harold hasn't been able to retrieve the True Stone, I think we need to go there to help.”

 Bail snorted.  “Need to?  Aren't there more of them around here that Keeper can find?”

 Surprisingly, Keeper nodded in agreement.  “With the Omni-Seeking Stone that you brought back from the Fae Wood, I can detect all the True Stones on Felskein.”

 “Harold might know where this one is though,” Suniel said.  “And, more importantly, he probably knows who or what has it.  We go there first.”

 There was quiet authority in Suniel's words as he glanced between them.

 Bail grumbled, Keeper nodded, and Kormak threw in his own vote of “what the hell.”

 “Hold hands with the person next to you,” Suniel said.

 “What if I don't have a person, I just have a metal man that thinks he's a-” Kormak was only partially through whatever he was going to say when Suniel closed his eyes, said a word, and they were no longer in the Coach House.


----------



## Iron Sky

Not an update, at least not yet.  I'm aiming for a minimum of 1 a week and I'll see if I can get a few more than that in over the next couple weeks.

I do however, have a mini-story hour I'm posting here that you can read in the meantime.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 9

Kormak blinked rapidly, sniffed repeatedly, and sneezed.  He wiped his eyes and looked around the small, dusty room they stood in.  It looked like the nicest room in an upscale inn but with a couple years of dust on everything.  

And Harold in the corner with a bow aimed at them.

 “Hi Harold, I see not much has changed,” Kormak said.

 Bail growled, reaching for his weapon.

 “Stop it everyone,” Suniel said, stepping between them.  “Harold, it's us, put your bow away.”

 Harold stared at them with wild eyes for several seconds then lowered the bow slowly.

 “What's going on here?” Suniel said.  “What happened to the Stone, the Skyland?”

 “Why are you dressed like some sort of rich man's guard.  I remember you with more stuff too,” Kormak added.

 “I'm working on recovering everything right now,” Harold growled.  “And keep your voices down.  There's invisible assassins everywhere, they could be listening right now!”

Kormak blinked at that and looked around.  “Invisible assassins stole the Stone, the Skyland, and your stuff?”

 “Yes!” Harold hissed.  “I've burned down the officer's barracks and have a maid in my pocket that's going to help me bring Hadral down.  With you here, I can speed up my plan.”

 Bail raised his hands.  “Stop.  Do we know where the Stone and the Skyland are?”

 “I know where my things are, we just have to get the key Hadral has on a necklace around her neck, then use it in a door to go to the extra-dimensional place where she's hidden my weapons and armor.”

 Kormak exchanged a worried look with Bail.  “Did you get hit in the head at some point?”

 “Yes!  That's why I need my things, so I can avenge myself on these Black City savages and show them why you don't betray the Crystal Towers!”

“So, we're supposed to help you kill some lady, defeat her army of invisible assassins – with the help of a maid, of course – so that you can get vengeance?  Will this help us find the True Stone?” Kormak said.

 “Once we've taken out Hadral, we can track down the Skyland and the True Stone.  Then we can head to the Red City – they say it's further west and they're at war with the Black City.  Maybe they are the allies I need for the Crystal Towers.”  Harolds eyes had a mad, fanatical gleam to them that Kormak found disturbing and, by the looks on Bail and Suniel's faces, he wasn't alone in the sentiment.

 “Harold, I know the Crystal Towers is important to you, but we're almost out of time.  There's reports of Iron Sky attacking all across Felskein and-” Suniel began.

“I don't care about Iron Sky!” Harold shouted.  “Without the Crystal Towers, this continent isn't worth saving!  Don't you see that?  If the Crystal Towers falls, let Iron Sky have it for all I care!”

 There was a strained moment of silence.

 “Let's at least get out of here where we can plan something out without fear of anyone overhearing us,” Suniel said.  “I have a plan to get the True Stones we need, an ancient spell that will help us track down all the others on Felskein.  Let's go back to Port, we can always come back here later.”

He nodded to Bail and Kormak as he held his hand out to Bail.  Bail took it and Kormak's hand as Suniel reached out and put a hand on Harold's shoulder.  Suniel murmured the words to a familiar spell as Harold shouted, “no, my plans here!”  

 A second later they were back in the Coach House, Suniel's hand outstretched into the open space where Harold should have been.

 Suniel shook his head.  “Harold slapped my hand off his shoulder at the last second.  Looks like we'll have to implement my plan on our own.  I just need a day to rest and finish researching the spell.”

 “Good riddance,” Bail grumbled.

 Kormak realized with a start that he had something appropriate to the situation in his pocket.  He pulled out a carving No Tongue had given him a couple days ago that he'd forgotten about since, setting it on the table between them.

 The carving was of the three of them standing around a table, holding hands, Suniel's hand outstretched as though reaching for someone that wasn't there.

 Just then No Tongue himself walked in and the three of them turned to stare at the goblin.

 No Tongue's eyes widened as they looked at him and he grinned as he looked back.  “Maaaaasssteeer,” he said in a long sing-song note.  He did a little spastic dance, bowed, then turned and walked out of the room.

“We live in interesting times,” Bail said.

 Kormak and Suniel nodded their agreement then dispersed to make their preparations.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 10

 Harold paced back and forth, waiting for Sarah to return.  Suniel and the others had made enough noise that he'd been worried that they'd blown his plans.  It had been hours since they had gone and no invisible assassins had attacked, so he figured he probably hadn't been compromised.

 It was getting dark outside and Harold was about to go looking for Sarah when the door opened.  Harold reached for his weapons but relaxed when he saw it was just Sarah.  She smiled at him almost shyly and set a basket full of food on the table, then turned to him, her eyes bright.  

“I brought you some food, it was the least I could do.  I know you have an important mission here, but... do you think you could take me with you when you leave?”

 Harold summoned up a smile.  “Of course, of course.  First I just need you to- damn!”

 Sarah's chest exploded in a fountain of blood as two blades passed through it from behind.  A split-second later, Harold _stepped_ up a level, appearing in another suite, but this one containing three surprised palace guards.  They leveled their weapons and fired on reflex and Harold just barely dived to the side in time.  He scrambled to his feet, pulled the nearest door open and ran out into a long hallway.  Shouted orders and heavy footsteps came from all directions.

 Three steps further down the hall and a guardsman appeared in the hallway just in front of him.  Harold shoved the barrel of the man's rifle aside just as it fired and ran the man through with his stolen blade.  As the man crumpled to the floor shouts rang out from down the hall in each direction.  

Harold _stepped _away, ending up standing in a familiar porcelain tub.  He shuddered and moved to the door.  From the sound of it, several more guards were moving quickly down the hallway outside, doors slamming open as they searched other rooms.

 Harold cursed and _stepped _again, dropping to a knee and reaching out his free hand to stabilize himself on the roof of the factory.  Even from the distance, he could see the Palace was swarming with soldiers, but it was guards he _couldn't_ see that really worried him.

_I'll have to wait until that dies down to try again,_ Harold thought.  He watched the palace for a few more minutes in disgust, then _stepped_ deeper into the building he was in.  Minutes later he was curled up in a dingy closet, squeezed into a corner amidst mops, brooms, toolboxes, and stacks of buckets.  From the look of it, it had been a while since anyone else had been there and no one would expect to find Harold there.

 He huddled in the dark and brooded, planning vengeance and murder on Hadral and everyone in her employ...


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 11

_High Druid Anderlan, we have not spoken in many years, but I must know how the homeland fares.

_ _Suniel Au, is that you after all these years?  The One Tree fares not well.  Two flying islands full of mechanical beings have reached the edge of the forest and are destroying every living thing they find.  We do battle, but they are closing on the One Tree. What they plan to do once they reach the tree is unknown, but I fear the worst._

_Which is?

_ _That they will destroy the Tree._

_Unthinkable._

_It is worse than you know.  The roots of the One Tree run beneath Endless Sands around the entire world.  If it is destroyed, the Grimwythe will be free again..._

_Hold them as long as you can Anderlan, I have recovered much of my old magic and I may have the strength save Felskein.  I trust you still have the Nature Stone?_

_I do, we will use it tomorrow against the constructs, see if we can slow them.

_ _Whatever you do, keep it safe.  And keep Iron Sky from the Wood Henge whatever the cost._

_We will do what we can Suniel._

_Farewell old friend._

 Suniel's eyes opened.

 “So, did you take a nap or were you talking to the earth tree?” Kormak said.

 “I got through to Anderlan.  We don't have much time.”

 Bail nodded.  “So, you say we can find the rest of the True Stones of Felskein.  How?”

 "I have relearned an ancient spell of seeking and recovered enough of the power I had before Thessalock stripped it from me to cast it.  With the help of Keeper and his Omni Seeking Stone, I have located them all.  We have three, the Silver Shard we retrieved from beneath the Crystal Towers, the Purity Stone that Harold took from the Beholder in the Endemore Ruins, and the Waterstone we took from Nakral.  High Druid Anderlan has the Nature Stone at the One Tree.  If what Velea told us is correct, we need only one more to activate the Crystal Tower's Defenses.”

 “And you know where the last one is?”

 Suniel nodded.

 “Deep within the Ravak Glacier far to the west is the Frozen Diamond.  I have located an ice cave within a mile of the Frozen Diamond, we can use the powers of our other Stones to blast our way to it.”

 “That makes sense,” Kormak said.  “So what do we do with them after that?”

 “Then we take them to the henges and activate the Crystal Towers Defenses... and hope that they are everything we pray they are or Iron Sky will overrun Felskein... or even worse.”

 “What's worse than Iron Sky overrunning the continent?” Kormak said.

 “Remember the reflecting pool on the Skyland?”  The others nodded gravely.  “Grimwythe is worse – and if what High Druid Anderlan is afraid of comes to pass, Iron Sky will be the lesser of our worries...”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 12

 “We'll have to do this quick, I have the feeling that the Undercouncil would try to stop us if they knew what we were about to do.  Knowing dragons, they likely still cling to the idea that they can keep Felskein hidden away for themselves,” Bail said.

 Kormak stared at him.  “Not to sound like Harold or anything, but I thought you were from the Undercouncil.  Isn't your mother Gilderalin?”

 “She is, but I never said I was a member of the Undercouncil,” Bail said, returning Kormak's gaze flatly.

 “You just never bothered to correct us when we assumed you were,” Suniel said, a hint of a smile playing about his lips.  “Who exactly _do_ you serve?”

 Bail paused for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell them.  After several long moments, he sighed.  “You might call it the Overcouncil.  I serve the Great Silver, the lord of those in exile from the Undercouncil.”

 There was a pause as that sank in.  “And what is your purpose?” Suniel said, watching Bail intently.

 “As I said when I first met you, my goal is to keep an eye on you, to be sure that your succeeded in your mission.”

 “We have a mission?” Kormak said, his eyes wide.  “Why did no one ever tell me?”

 Bail ignored him.  “Suniel, when do we go to this Ravak Glacier to retrieve the Frozen Diamond.”

 “As soon as you all are ready,” Suniel said softly.  “We near the end of things, one way or another, so prepare yourselves.”

 “Got everything I need right here,” Kormak said, pulling back his sleeves and flexing the corded muscles of his arms.

 “I too carry everything that I require,” Bail said.  “Probably best not to tell Meepo I'm leaving lest he worry himself to death.”

 “I carry all that I need within,” Keeper said.  Bail looked up as the construct stepped to join them at the table.  Bail had forgotten he was even there.

 Suniel nodded and extended his hand to Keeper.  Once they were all touching, he intoned a short burst of spell words and the Couch House Library was gone...


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Just wanted to add my voice to the chorus of praise for this story. I found it a couple of weeks ago and have been gradually reading through. I've really enjoyed it - geat story and great characters. 

Keep up the good work!


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 13

<Thanks for the comments HalfOrc, glad to hear people are still enjoying it!>

 “Whew,” Kormak said, wiping his brow and grinning at Suniel and Bail.  “Never knew blasting ice with magic could be so much fun.”

 Suniel nodded, lowering the Silver Shard, its surface still rippling with energy.  “It can be... addictive.”

 Bail grunted and squinted into the jagged hole they had just blasted through the glacier.  “Do you suppose we've reached the Frozen Stone yet?”

 Suniel murmured and made a quick series of gestures, then stared ahead of them for several minutes.  “The way is clear, though we'll have to climb through that first.”  He pointed to the broken jumble of sharp-edge, wet-slick, shattered ice that stretched before them for a mile or more.

“Best get started then,” Kormak said, handing the Purity Stone back to Suniel.  “Let's get this whole thing over with.”

 ***

 Bail yawned and stretched, raking up his coin-bed and stuffing the coins in his bag.  Suniel was shivering in his blankets and Kormak was rubbing his arms and jumping around to get warm.  Keeper sat against the wall, frost riming his features.

 “Finally awake I see,” the dwarf said, glaring at Bail.  “Have a good night's sleep?”

 Bail shrugged.  “As good as any.”

 Suniel's eyes slowly opened and he sat up, blankets still pulled close.  He smiled wryly.  “Next time I suggest we rest for the night in the center of a glacier...”

 “Well, at least you're all rested and ready for our big day,” Kormak said.  Bail tossed the dwarf the Lightning Stone and took the Frozen Stone for himself.

 Suniel put his things away and produced the Waterstone from his robes with his good hand, coughing as he did so.

 “How do you hide that big thing in those little robes,” Kormak said.  “Wait, let me guess, some wizard's tricks?”

 “Same way Harold kept all those weapons in his quiver,” Bail said.

 Suniel nodded.  “The enchantments are similar.  Anyway, at each of the places you end up, stay inside the henge, it'll be safe there even if it isn't around you, at least once you place your Stone in the henge, so put it there as soon as possible.  I'll be back to get you as soon as I can.”

 “Which will be what? Minutes? Hours? Days?” Kormak said, watching the sparks fall from the Lightning Stone every time he tapped it.

 “Probably tomorrow before I'll be able to cast the spells to return.  Be patient, I will be back.”  The elf took a deep breath.  “Brace yourselves, we're about to activate the Machinery of the Continent and activate the Crystal Towers Defenses.  From there, I doubt there is anyone living who knows what will happen next.”

 “There are several,” Keeper said quietly as he stood, the frost that covered him snapping and crunching as he moved.  “Though technically one of them is not living.”

 They all turned to Keeper, waiting for more.  There was none.

“And?” Kormak said.

 The construct shook his head.  “Now is not the time.  Soon.”

 “You have any idea what it's talking about Suniel?” Kormak said.

The elf shook his head. “No.  I'm sure he'll tell us when the time is right.”

 Suniel walked over to Bail and looked the half-dragon in the eye.  “Ready?”

 Bail nodded, holding the Frozen Stone close.  Suniel murmured and brushed a hand across Bail's shoulder and in an instant the half-dragon was gone.


----------



## Sanzuo

Iron Sky said:


> “How do you hide that big thing in those little robes,”


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 14

 Kormak vanished, as Bail had a moment before, and Suniel turned to Keeper.  The construct regarded him with flickering eyes.

 “I'm going to hold onto you tightly because we're going to be sinking.”

 “Placing the Waterstone in the Azure Henge?”

 Suniel nodded, not bothering to ask Keeper how he knew.  “Give me a moment, I'll need some wardings to protect me from the environment we'll be in.”

A few minutes later, he took a deep breath, grabbed onto Keeper's arm, and took them to the depths.

 He hadn't anticipated the absolute darkness.  The pressure of the crushing depths, the lack of air, yes.  He created a glowing sphere of light in his palm and saw that he and Keeper were sinking at a decent pace, judging by the tiny particulates drifting up around them.

 “Keep your eye out for the – there it is!”

 The henge was right below them, rising from a jutting spur of rock arcing over a watery abyss.  He pulled out the Waterstone and used its power to guide them to the henge.  The Stone fit exactly into the pedestal and the standing crystalline stones of the henge began to pulse with radiant, pale blue light.  Suniel almost fell as a protective bubble formed around the henge, pushing the water back and leaving him standing on the damp bedrock.  Around the henge the water was swirling more and more violently, a churning maelstrom of surging waters.

 Above them the waters began to swirl into a whirlpool whose walls were so fast and massive that he saw a circle of daylight high above, surrounded by what must have been thousands of feet of water.

 There was no to marvel, however.  He touched Keeper's shoulder.

 Dark clouds scudded across a plain studded with massive, nearly-transparent crystals jutting into the sky.  Moonlight caught in the crystals and made them shine like liquid silver.  Keeper pointed behind Suniel.

 He turned to look and saw the Crystal Henge, each crystal in it perfectly formed and exactly the same height as all the others.  As the Truestone of Light settled into its creche, the crystals began to glow, first just the henge then spreading to the immense crystals that surrounded them, each glowing with an ever-brighter golden light.  It was almost blinding and growing more intense by the second.  Suniel covered his eyes and touched Keeper's arm.

 The tumult of battle flashed over the trees, distant shouts and screams and echoing booms shaking the very ground. Two brown specks floated in the skies, miles away but drawing closer even as they watched, flashing against the blue skies and sending dozens of piercing beams of energy cutting down into the burning forest.

 Behind them was the mile-wide trunk of the One Tree, its branches high above stretching towards the horizons. Before them stood a familiar figure, his long hair and beard flecked with moss and twigs, behind him the dark petrified trunks of the Woodhenge, sparkling and gleaming.  Suniel took High Druid Anderlan's hand in his good one, the delight at seeing his old friend again far overshadowed by the doom that drew close.

 “You are ready?”

 Anderlan nodded.  “The Woodstone was placed just before you arrived.”

 “Then that is five.  I do not know how I can collect both of my companions, however.  They are at two of the Henges and I am too worn to retrieve them.”

 The druid gestured towards the Woodhenge.  “Use it then.  If five of them are active, then you can use them to travel to any of the other active Henges.  That is how you can retrieve your companions.”

 Suniel embraced Anderlan and stepped towards the Henge.  “Hold them Anderlan, whatever it takes.  Now that the Crystal Towers Defenses are active, we just need to figure out how to use them and we'll drive Iron Sky away.”

 “We'll do what we can then.  Just hurry, we cannot hold them for much longer.”

 Suniel was almost to the Woodhenge when Anderlan called to him.  Suniel stopped and turned.

 “The Silver spoke to me,  He will meet you at your last destination.”

 “The Silver?  Where is our last destination?”

 Suniel was too late.  Anderlan had already transformed into a massive eagle and launched into the skies with a piercing shriek, flying hard towards the smoke and rumble of the distant battle.

 “We head to the Spire of Direction that sits in the center of the Radianus Sink.  The Silver, the last Elarim.  They are the same.  He will meet us there.”

 Suniel turned to Keeper and stared, wishing for the hundredth time that the construct had expressions that he could read.

 “How do you know all this?  The Nexus?”

 Keeper shook his head.  “It was He who arranged that you might find me, that we might stand at this very point after millennium of waiting and planning, that you might undo the sins of your fathers and make the world right.  It was no accident that it was you who activated me and you that I serve."

Keeper glanced at the distant battle then turned back to Suniel.  "Let us get the others quickly and head to the Spire, for time is short and Bahamut awaits us there.”


----------



## steeldragons

Wanted to throw you guys a "head's up." Just posted the inked version of the Rise of Felskein cast picture. Yes, finally had a chance to get some ink on it.

So it's on my art thread ( http://www.enworld.org/forum/art-ga...ures-painting/283445-steel-dragons-art-3.html ).

If you want color added to it...well, that'll take a while. lol. But certainly doable.

Enjoy, and thanks again for a great Story Hour.
--SD


----------



## Dragonwriter

I'm going to finally chime in here. 

I've really enjoyed reading through this, and both eagerly anticipate the end and dread it, for I know I won't be reading any new happenings.

Thanks for posting this, IronSky!

And Steeldragons, awesome stuff!


----------



## Iron Sky

Thanks for the art and the comments.  I'm hoping to get another post or two up in the next week or so.  I'm guessing we're within 10 posts of completion, most likely less than that, but I'm hedging my bets.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 15

The Spire of Direction was a silversteel tower about twenty feet in diameter and three stories tall, sitting on a tiny grassy island in the middle of the Radianus Sink.  The others had gone up the ramp inside to look around the upper level while Kormak relaxed a bit before who-knew-what was coming.

 In the distance to the north, the Fae Wood was just barely visible, the occasional glint of sunlight reflecting off of something nestled within the black fringe of the forest.  The other horizons were pure, sparkling blue as far as the eye could see.

 Kormak leaned back against the warm silversteel of the Spire, the soft grass waving slightly in a cool breeze coming in of the Sink.  It was hard to believe that elsewhere in Felskein, dozens of battles, large and small, were being fought against an implacable foe that might not stop until it had killed everything that stood between it and... what?  Its endless quest to destroy the dormant Grimwythe?  Had the Keeper that ran Iron Sky decided on some other plan?  Conquest of Felskein and the Thousand Skylands? Something else more inscrutable?

 A shadow passed overhead and he glanced up, then reflexively leapt away as something _massive_ landed on the island with enough force that the ground shook.  The biggest dragon he had ever seen was wrapped around the tower, one massive forearm resting on the top of the Spire, its tail following the curve of the island like a sea wall.  Its scales shone like silversteel... Kormak looked closer.  _Exactly_ like silversteel.  It's luminous white eyes shone as it stared down at him, somehow radiating immense power, sadness, and gentleness all at once.

 Suniel and Bail walked out of the tower, Keeper close behind.  Bail and Keeper dropped to a knee instantly and Suniel followed a moment later.

“You have done well, all of you,” Bahamut said, his voice echoing in spite of the softness of the dragon's voice.  “Keeper, all is in readiness?”

 Keeper nodded.  “Five Stones have been set and I activated the Crystal Towers defenses.  Soon the Interface will be active.”

 “Excellent.  I will be brief then, for we have little time.”  The dragon shifted slightly, his massive tail wrapping protectively around them.  “The Undercouncil is gathering to the East, on the edge of the Radianus Sink.  They will be coming here to try to stop you for they still believe that they somehow will retain Felskein for themselves.  Draconic arrogance knows no bounds, though in a way that could be said to be my fault since I was among those who created them.  They were our first Child Race and we made them too much like ourselves.  I will do what I can to stop them, but there are dozens of them and I have forbidden any others of the Overcouncil to aid me.”

 Bail started to speak, but Bahamut raised a clawed finger to silence him.  “All of the Overcouncil.  When your work is done here, the Overcouncil will be needed to help rebuild.  Listen closely, for here is what you must do...”


----------



## Iron Sky

<Took a month to notice I double posted...>


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 16

 “All the True Stones?  What do you mean _all_?”

 “There are around a thousand,” Bahamut said.  “The Grimwythe will not rest – especially if the Tree that keeps them locked away is destroyed by Iron Sky - until all of them are returned to the land.”

 “How will we do that?  Don't the Skylands need them to keep flying?” Kormak said.  “Won't the people on those Skylands want to keep theirs?”

 Bahamut nodded and tapped the top of the Spire of Direction.  “You have this, Keeper, and the Crystal Towers Defenses to convince them.”

 “I'm not sure they'll be convinced.  After all, Harold's people have lived on and around the Crystal Towers for centuries and they don't seem to know anything about them.”

 “They'll learn soon enough, but that doesn't matter at the moment.  You must Raise Felskein to join them, merge the Skylands to the continent, and land them together in the Endless Sands.  You must do this quickly, for when the One Tree dies, the Grimwythe will come quickly for the Stones and you must return the Stones before they do or many will die in the process.”

 “So, what _is_ the Grimwythe?” Kormak said.  “We've heard how bad it is, even saw... well... _something_ in the pool on Velea's Skyland when we first visited it, but what is it?”

 Bahamut glanced up at the sky and was still for a long moment.  “Long ago, we found ourselves the lonely rulers of this world, a world verdant and green with vast oceans of crystal-blue waters.  But we were alone.  We made the first of the races to share our world, but in our ignorance made them as slaves rather than children and to make them we stole the essence of the world itself, siphoned it away into Stones of vast power.  But the world was made by something older even than we, grown around an immense Seed of silversteel that our distant, primitive ancestors stared at in wonder as we roamed the land with stone clubs, wondering at our own origins.  The Seed created the force we named the Grimwythe, to reclaim the power that we stole from the Seed of the World.

 “We fled our problem, used the power of the Stones to lift Felskien into the skies.  The other continents weren't so lucky, shattering into a thousand pieces as our stolen elemental magics ripped them from the bosom of the world.  Still the Grimwythe reached for us, to the very skies. We created Iron Sky in an attempt to battle the guardians of the Seed that would take our precious True Stones from us and doom us to slavery or destruction at our slave-children's hands.  Iron Sky failed us.  Our children overthrew us, starting with the most powerful, the ones we made in our own image – the dragons.  One by one we were hunted down despite our power, until only I remained and survived, to go into hiding and plan for a day... this day... when the world would be set to right."

 Bahamut looked to the horizon.  “And now they gather to finish what they started.”

 Enormous silver wings unfurled, blotting out the sun like the sails on a massive ship.  “I trust in you know as I have trusted in you this whole time. Let Felskein Rise from the Endless Sands, unite the Skylands, and return the True Stones to the Grimwythe.  Only then will our children find the peace they deserved.”

 Bail knelt at Bahamut's feet and the Elarim patted the half-dragon on the head.  “You have served me well.  Serve my children once I am gone.”

 The gust of wind as Bahamut launched into the air nearly knocked all of them down.  They stood and watched for a moment as the last Elarim flew into the west, where dragons circled like a flock of hungry crows.  They did not wait for the battle between the last of the creators and the first of the created to begin, but instead turned to follow Keeper into the tower, to finish what they had started and begin the end.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 17

The others stood along the wall as Keeper walked to what looked like an unadorned silversteel column that rose to mid-chest height and ended in a domed top.  Keeper placed his hands upon it and his eyes sparked and flashed.  Kormak kept waiting for a splash of pyrotechnical magics to explode in the room, but instead, a small dot of white light appeared.  Again, there was a sense of anticlimax as the dot expanded with painful slowness, taking several minutes for Kormak to even recognize it as Felskein – and he never would have recognized it if he hadn't seen the stone model on Velea's Skyland.

 This model, however, was made of light, somehow acquiring the illusion of depth as it expanded.  Minutes later, the room was filled with the spread of Felskein and the spray of thousands of tiny Skylands spread out through the space above their heads.  Two Skylands were visible by the One Tree and dozens of others were closing in all around the continent.

 “Those would be Iron Sky I'm assuming,” Bail said, pointing at the closest ones.

 Keeper released the column and nodded.  “Most of them are, but where you want your attention is here.”

 The construct pointed at the Crystal Towers, held off the side of the continent on their fragment of land by the seemingly-tiny Span.  As Keeper pointed, the Crystal Towers seemed to enlarge for closer viewing, until the individual facets of the massive crystals atop each of the towers could be seen.  The crystals were spinning faster and faster and glowing with their own inner light.

“So the Crystal Tower Defenses are the towers themselves?” Bail said, rubbing his chin.  “I suppose you'd need something that big to protect a continent.”

 Keeper nodded again.  “They are nearly active, shall I begin removing the Iron Sky threat?”

 “Remove the what?” Kormak said.

 “You can control it from here?” Suniel said softly, squinting at the Skylands near the One Tree.

 “Like this,” Keeper said.  He stuck the tip of his finger in the glowing light atop the largest of the Crystal Towers and traced a line from it to one of the two Skylands Suniel was looking at.  The room flared, nearly blinding Kormak.  When his vision returned, only one Skyland remained.  “Shall I continue?”

 Suniel, Bail, and Kormak could only stare at each other in wonder at the immense display of power Keeper has so casually demonstrated.  _He just destroyed a flying island with a motion of his arm.  How many of those Iron Sky constructs were just destroyed?  He could destroy a kingdom with a flick of his wrist, _Kormak thought.  He could see similar thoughts moving behind Bail and Suniel's eyes.

 Finally, Suniel cleared his throat.  “If they must be destroyed, then there is no time to waste.  Continue Keeper.”

 Another line traced from the Crystal Towers destroyed the second and the construct turned to the other Skylands that formed a loose slowly-constricting ring around the continent.  After being half-blinded by the destruction of a several more, Kormak covered his eyes and found the ramp that led down by feel.  “Carry on with the colossal destruction, I'm going to smell some flowers and get some fresh air."

 Suniel stayed behind, but when Kormak stepped out onto the grass and the cool breeze coming in off the Radianus Sink, Bail was a step behind him.  They stared out across the water for several seconds in silence before Bail spoke.

 “It's hard to believe, hard to imagine what's going on in there,” the half-dragon said.  “Well, I guess it's actually going on out... there...”

 He was gesturing in the rough direction of the Crystal Towers when the sky flashed white.  A minute later, a rumbling boom rolled past them, setting the ground beneath their feet trembling.  “What was that?” Kormak said, dumbfounded.

 “I think that was Keeper destroying another Skyland,” Bail said.  A few minutes later, his theory was confirmed by another flash and long-delayed rumble.

 “I wonder where all that power comes from?” Kormak wondered aloud.  “It would take a hundred True Stones, maybe a thousand to generate enough power for one of those blasts.”

 “Must be the Machinery of the Continent that Keeper mentioned before - remember feeling it in the walls and the floor below the Crystal Tower when we were going after the Lightning Stone?  It was almost as if the continent was alive.”

 “Um... does the tower here look a bit... reddish?” Kormak said, pointing at the outside wall of the Spire.  Bail tilted his head from side to side as if trying to guage.  Kormak placed his hand on the silversteel. The metal was hot, almost uncomfortably so.  “Guess whatever's making it happen, it's producing a lot of heat.  Hope Suniel isn't getting cooked.”

 He stepped inside to check, but the silversteel inside seemed fine, maybe even a bit chilly.  There was another flash outside and Bail came in blinking and almost walked into the wall.  “I think Keeper just shot one on the other side of Felskien. A beam of light just flashed through the sky... at least, that's all I can see right now, just red with a glowing strip of white in it.”

“Might be safer inside,” Kormak said, leading the half-blind Bail back up the ramp to the control room.  “Any hopefully they're just about out of Skylands to destroy by now.”


----------



## steeldragons

If this isn't a big heaping batch of "awesome", I don't know what is!

Can Keeper annihilate that bitch that Harold's trying to get with those towers? lol.

Sorry if that's spoiling or foreshadowing or whatever. But WOW this is friggin' awesome.

Burn baby burn, Keeper infernooooo. Burn baby burn. Burn that muthuh down...

Love the update. Thanks!
--SD


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 18

“That's the last of them,” Keeper said as the room dimmed again.

 “He makes the extinction of a race of robots it sound like he's just found a pretty rock,” Kormak said.

 Bail walked over to the light-image of Felskein and squinted at a little pillar of rock with a tower on it to the “north” of the Crystal Towers.  “Is this the Ashen Tower?”

 Suniel nodded.  "That's it, from there Thessalock terrorizes the whole-”

They watched as Keeper traced his finger from the Crystal Towers the the Ashen Tower and a second later, what had been a towering pinnacle of rock with a black tower atop it was no more than a little nub of stone jutting from the Endless Sands.

 Bail, Kormak, and Suniel stared and blinked at the spot for half a minute.  “I guess that solves that,” Kormak said.  “Harold will be thrilled – wherever he is right now...”

 ***

 Harold _stepped_ to the rooftop, wondering what the tumult outside was about.  He appeared just as the sky flashed and he was nearly blinded.  _What in the hells was that?_ he thought.  He looked around, seeing if lightning had struck somewhere nearby.

_Not lightning, far too powerful and nothing nearby seems to be ruined..._ His thoughts were interrupted by a rumbling boom from the east that shook the roof tiles of the building he stood on.  Down in the streets, the commoners were rioting and there were muffled cracks, booms, and rumbles echoing through the dense smog that filled the streets of Gleam.  _Maybe Hadral is out fighting an uprising or something, that might explain..._ It wouldn't explain what Harold saw next.

 The largest dragon Harold had ever seen passed overhead, a silver that seemed to blot out half the sky as it swooped past and nearly blew him off the roof with the blast of wind generated by a single wing-beat.  It was pursued by two-dozen dragons of various shapes and sizes, hurling spells and unleashing torrents of lightning, clouds of acidic vapor, and detonating blasts of fire all around it.

The immense dragon landed heavily on the roof of Hadral's palace, collapsing a several floors with its weight, then tearing up a whole wing of the place as it launched back into the air, roaring and blasting a small white dragon into a rapidly-dissolving swirl of dust.

 Minutes later, the dragons had disappeared into the skies, leaving several sections of Gleam afire, not the least of which was Hadral's estate.  _It's time to get out of here, _he thought and _stepped _rapidly across Gleam, not stopping until he stood packed onto a fleeing ship with a tall soot-covered pipe coming out of the center that belched smoke as the boat churned through the water.

 As he struggled to get comfortable amidst the stifling-hot press of refugees crammed on the boat, fleeing the total anarchy that had engulfed Gleam, he stared over the gunwales at what seemed to be a small island in the center of the lake.  In the center of the island was a tower that glowed red like a hot poker, barely visible through the clouds of steam that swirled around it from where the waters touched the island's shore.

_Steam?_ He thought.  He looked out across the rest of the Radianus Sink and saw steam swirling from its surface in every direction.  Someone in the ship screamed and jerked their finger from the lake.  The whole _lake_ was boiling hot...


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 19

 The plain-robed elf stared levelly at Pirate Lord Derkaran Pyresail.  The half-orc was slouched in his metal throne, his cronies cowering at the edges of the rusted metal platform upon which they stood, overlooking the rusting metal sprawl of Gantry.  Even this high up, the wind was hot, blasting in howling gusts from the Endless Sands far below.

 Derkaran placed his hand on the True Stone of Fire and looked at Suniel evenly.  “So you came here alone, elf, scared some of the cutthroats down in the Rust with a bit of magic, and thought you could just walk up here and take the Charstone from me?  Think you're some kind of wizard, think you can stand against a True Stone?  Others have tried, dozens have died.  I've been the Lord of Gantry for six years, I've killed better than you for less than that.  What makes you think _I'll just turn it over to you_?”

 The elf looked off to the side as Derkaran shouted the last sentence, closed his eyes, and mouthed something Derkaran couldn't hear.  Something about a _Keeper_?

 “What was that, elfling?  Saying your prayers?  Courage failed you and expecting some divine being to keep you safe? What do you think you're going to do-”

 The elf pointed at a massive gantry tower jutting out of the cliffs on the far side of Gantry, a huge, iron-latticed monstrosity towering over even the one upon which Pyresail kept his court.  There was a blinding flash of light and a wash of heat and the gantry tower exploded in a deafening _boom _followed immediately by the shriek of tortured metal and a rain of rusty iron amidst which girders the size of trees fell from hundreds of feet in the air.

 Debris was still falling, a near-deafening chain of scrapes and thundering _clangs_ as metal collapsed on metal echoing across Gantry, yet somehow everyone on the platform could hear the elf's whisper.

“That.”

 ***

 “Suniel is back,” Bail shouted out to Kormak.  The dwarf cast a worried look at the steaming waters of the Radianus Sink and a glance at the red-hot exterior walls of the Spire of Direction as he entered.

 The elf tossed a smoking ruby the size of his head to Bail.  “Take it to the last Henge, you know how to do it on your own now?”

 Bail nodded and walked to the barely visible glyph in the center of the lower floor of the Spire.  The half-dragon closed his eyes and vanished.  “Can travel from here to the Henges?” Kormak said.  “That's good to know.”

 Suniel nodded as they walked up the ramp to the room where Keeper still stood at the pedestal, overlooking the light-image of Felskein and the Thousand Skylands.

 “He's there and he's placed it... now,” Keeper said, gesturing towards the volcano at the northeastern tip of Felskein, not too far from Northmand.  “Felskein now coming to full power.  I've already announced that the other Skylands are to meet us at full speed – speed that we can augment now that all nine True Stones are placed.  They should all be at the rendezvous point within two days.  Except that there are a few that are refusing.”

 Keeper looked to Suniel.  “We need almost all of them together if we want any hope of stopping the Grimwythe and restoring the world as Bahamut asked; there are too many dissenting for us to get anywhere close to that number and we need to make haste before those dragons finish off Bahamut.”

 Bail glared at Keeper and Kormak said, “how do you know he is still alive?”

“Because Gileralin isn't here doing this instead of us,” Suniel said softly. “The Undercouncil wants Felskein for themselves and right now Bahamut is all that's keeping them from us.”

 “_All_ that's keeping them from us?  What about that?” Kormak pointed at the light-image of the Crystal Towers.

 Suniel turned to Keeper.  “Could you hit a dragon with that?  Say, if it was flying towards us over the Radianus Sink?”

 Keeper shrugged, a motion Kormak never knew he could perform.  “I could, but I doubt we would survive it.  It would be unfortunate to miss as well, a slight misdirection of the beam from the Crystal Towers and-”

 Kormak raised his hands.  “All right, I get it, I get it. Fine, so how do we get all of the Skylands to comply?”

 “They saw us use the Crystal Towers Defenses on Iron Sky, shouldn't that be enough?” Bail said.

 Suniel shook his head.  “It seems not.  I think we have little choice.”

 “Wait, what?” Kormak said.  It slowly dawned on him.  “You're not going to do what-”

“Keeper, which ones of these are refusing?” Suniel said.  The construct did something on the pedestal and several dozen of the Skylands seemed to grow appreciably in size.

“You're just going to-”

 “Destroy three of them and send the rest a message.  Tell them: 'Felskein has Risen and you are to join us at the location specified.  There will be no more equivocation.  Comply or be destroyed.'”

 Kormak stared at Suniel with his mouth agape.  He turned to Bail, but the half-dragon was nodding his head grimly.

 “Keeper, to the skies.”

 They all turned and looked at the light image.  There was a slight shifting feeling and a faint vibration in the Spire that slowly faded.  On the light image, the continent of Felskein lifted slowly from the Endless Sands and, for the first time in Millennium, rose into the Skies.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 20

Kormak awoke and rubbed his eyes, glancing over at the light-image in the center of the room.  Bail was curled up in a pile of coins against the opposite wall.  Suniel was nowhere to be seen.

 With a yawn and a long series of stretches he walked over to Keeper, the construct still as a statue at the pedestal where he'd stood for the last couple days as the wayward Skylands obediently merged with the mainland.  The many and varied people of the Skylands hadn't needed additional examples after Keeper had vaporized three of them.

 “How's it going Keeper?”

Keeper nodded to him.  “We are almost complete.  I have also completed my analysis of the True Stone energies required to fly the new, Risen Felskein.”

“Risen Felskein?”

 “An arbitrary moniker I devised to refer to the united landmass that will be formed when all the Skylands have finished merging with Felskein itself.”

“Gotcha, so what's your analysis?”

“Once merged, we should only require one-hundred of the nearly one-thousand True Stones to stay aerial.  Once we set down again, we can reduce that to the nine that power Felskein itself to keep the Grimwythe at bay for a while longer, then the last nine may be quickly collected and... disposed of.”

 “How do you dispose of one-thousand artifacts?” Kormak said, trying to wrap his brain around the scale of events that had been going on for the last couple days.  “Get really big rock hammers and-”

 “Don't worry about that,” Suniel said softly, seeming to appear out of nowhere.  The elf's eyes were black and distant.

 “And... complete,” Keeper said, gesturing to the light-image.  “We are now ready to begin collecting the True Stones.”

 “Isn't there the risk of being ambushed when we go for the Stones?  There's plenty of people that didn't want to go along with us.”

 Suniel shook his head.  “As soon as they merged, Keeper put up the Wards around the Henges.  No one can get to them but us.”

Kormak nudged Bail awake and dodged back as the half-dragon instinctively clawed at the dwarf as he awakened.  “C'mon lizard, time to go round up a pile of artifacts.”

 Bail growled as he scooped up his coins.

A few minutes later they were at the base of the Spire and one-by-one winking out, off to claim a thousand True Stones from a thousand henges...


----------



## Neurotic

Now I need to wait like everybody else 

Just so you know, you slowed my posting rate on the Worlds and my work is suffering.

Now to get back to it...


----------



## Iron Sky

Glad you enjoyed it Neurotic.  I seem to have settled into a 1/week Monday night posting schedule somehow.  A few more weeks to go.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 21

 Time became a blur, an endless sequence of _stepping_ into a henge surrounded by a nearly-opaque shimmering gray bubble, grabbing the artifact sitting in the center, then stepping back, handing the True Stone to Keeper so he could stow it in the Black Carriage, and _stepping_ back again.

It might have been hours or days later that they had the last of them, so many that they were in loosely organized piles in the lower floor of the Spire, the Carriage's interior literally packed to the roof.

 Kormak wiped his brow and glanced outside.  The island was scorched and blackened, all the plants burned away by the immense heat radiating off the outside of the Spire.  Through the heat-shimmer, he could see the Radianus Sink bubbling and boiling.  It seemed strange that it could be so cool inside the Spire while it looked like that outside.

 “The Machinery of the Continent is extremely efficient, but the power required to fly a continent is... almost inexpressible,” Keeper said, following Kormak's glance.  “If we take too long, the Sink – which was created just for this purpose – could boil away entirely.”

 Kormak shook his head and looked at the Carriage.  “So what are we going to do with the rest of these?”

 Just then, Suniel and Bail _stepped _back from somewhere, carrying heaping armloads of fishing nets.  “Never mind,” Keeper said.

 An hour later, the Carriage was the most powerful, ridiculous looking thing Kormak had ever seen, the outside completely covered with nets absolutely bulging with artifacts, hanging off the side like so many potatoes in a sack.

“Now what?”

 Keeper walked down the ramp from the upper level.  “The Risen Felskein should be settling back in the Sands soon.  The Grimwythe is loose – there's a wall of black energy nearly miles tall closing in on us from all directions.  The moment we land, we need to get the last nine True Stones and get them away from Felskein as soon as possible.”

 “Away from Felskein?” Bail said. “Now that the last of the Skylands have merged with the continent, there's nothing else out there.”

 “Keeper and I will take them to the far side of the world and wait for the Grimwythe to take them,” Suniel said softly.  “That way we can be sure that the job is done correctly.”

 Kormak and Bail stared at the elf for a moment.  “And what happens when the Grimwythe reaches you?”

 The floor shook and they reached for wall or nets to steady themselves. As the shaking subsided, Keeper nodded. “It is done.”

 Suniel smiled.  “Time to go.”

 Kormak glanced outside and saw, through the rippling heat and haze of the water, a distant shimmering black wall that seemed to grow even as he watched. A momentary flashback to the vision pool on Velea's Skyland left him shaken. He shook his head and began to turn, but something in the distance caught his attention.  He turned back and squinted, making out two massive dragons, one silver, one gold, locked together in mortal combat in the distant sky.  As he watched, the silver's wing was torn from its body and it plummeted, but not before grabbing onto to gold's tail.  Together they plummeted for several seconds before the advancing energy of the Grimwythe consumed them.

“That's that I guess,” Kormak said.

 “What?” Bail said, glancing over from where he and Suniel were discussing the collection of the last True Stones.

“Nothing, I'll tell you later.” Kormak joined them and together they _stepped _to their designated henges.


----------



## Wilhem

Awesome, loving it all having just read the whole thing through from start to finish.


----------



## Iron Sky

Wilhem said:


> Awesome, loving it all having just read the whole thing through from start to finish.




I'm honored that your first post on ENWorld was here.  I'm glad you've enjoyed it.


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 22

 Felskein landed heavily, violent tremors shaking the Spire of Direction and sending boiling hot-waves crashing against it.  Fortunately, a shimmering field similar to the ones that protected the Henges still shielded the tower door and they watched the water boiling away against the invisible barrier as they reloaded the Black Carriage's nets with the artifacts that had fallen out during the quake.

 “Quickly now,” Suniel said.  They all glanced at Keeper as the construct slumped against the carriage suddenly.  “Keeper?”

 The construct shook his head.  “The Nexus is... it is nothing, go.”

 Suniel hesitated, then turned to the others.  “Everyone know where they are going?”

 Everyone nodded and _stepped _out.  A few minutes later, they were back, loading the last nine True Stones into the carriage.  With the Stones removed, the shield on the door had vanished and scalding waves from the aftershocks came within feet of spilling through the doorway.  The temperature began to increase rapidly, the walls already glowing shades of pink.

 With everything in readiness, Suniel looked at his companions.  The taciturn half-dragon stood with his feet braced, his expression grim.  Kormak was shaking his head. “Why don't you just go to the other side and leave the carriage there?”

 “I have a feeling... this is what I must do. To be sure.”

 “And I as well,” Keeper said.  His eyes no longer sparked, only the barest flickers visible in their depths.

 Suniel looked like he was going to deny the construct, but he looked at Keeper for a long moment and nodded.  “I would appreciate the company.”

 Bail stepped up and gripped Suniel's forearm and gave it a single strong shake.  Kormak surprised Suniel by giving him a hug, then stepped away, wiping his eyes.  “Getting hot in here, have sweat in my eyes.”

 Suniel looked out the door and saw the churning black energy of the Grimwythe in the distance.  It had to be close to the edge of the continent by now.

 He turned back to his companions a final time.  “Perhaps we will meet again.”

One hand on one of the nets, one on Keepers arm, he spoke the words to a spell and seconds later they stood atop a massive, forbidding sand dune, looking over a seemingly endless waste of blowing sand.  The weight of the carriage sank it up to its axles and Keeper pitched forward into the sand.  Suniel grabbed him to try and keep him up, but the construct was too heavy and they both fell, sliding several feet down the side of the dune.

 Suniel knelt over the construct when they came to a stop, glancing up as what had been an almost-imperceptible rumble became a distant roar.  The Grimwythe was visible on every horizon, rapidly growing louder and taller.

 He looked down at Keeper.  The last spark in the construct's eyes was almost gone.  “Keeper.”

 Keeper reached up for Suniel and Suniel took the construct's rough hand in his own.  “Master...  it has been an honor... an honor to know and serve you...”

 Suniel nodded, blinking back tears.  “You as well Keeper.  Who would have thought when we found you that I would ever have a companion more loyal.”

 Keeper struggled for a moment and the faintest hint of a smile formed on his lips.  He squeezed Suniel's hand gently then released, his eyes flickering a final time and going dark.  Suniel lowered the construct's hand to the sand. “It was an honor for me as well, Keeper.”

 Suniel stood and turned to face the Grimwythe, now towering into the heavens in all directions, walls rushing in like waves into a hole in the ocean's waters.

He spread his arms and closed his eyes, unafraid as the hurricane roar of the Grimwythe flooded over him.


----------



## Ryltar

Just discovered this gem of a story hour. This far, I've only managed to read up to Session 4, but it is a captivating read! I especially like the little behind the screen insights you give, especially as your DM'ing style has some parallels to my own. Please keep up the good work!

[edit]Finished with Session 7 a few minutes ago. Great work! I was sad to see that 



Spoiler



Ming died off so early - she had the makings of a great character.


 On this note - you said in one of the first posts in this thread that you required each player to come up with a list of flaws and secrets. Would you mind sharing these 



Spoiler



for the characters that have already fallen, especially for Ming


? I'm sure this would make for insightful reading.


----------



## Iron Sky

Glad you're enjoying it Ryltar.  When I finish up the story hour (another post or two), I'll start putting up the characters.  I still have most of their sheets around somewhere and Xyque has Harold's.


----------



## Ryltar

And I'm up to speed. Looking forward to those final posts.

One thing I have wondered about - is there any specific reason you chose to convert to 4e in mid-campaign? E.g., did you feel that 4e mechanics would suit your playing style / the story better, or did the change happen for another reason?


----------



## Sanzuo

We played the whole campaign in 3.5.  We switched to 4th edition after it was over.


----------



## Ryltar

Ah, then I was mistaken - I took your post saying 'Bumping to say our first 4e session ever kicked ass' as an indicator for a mid-campaign switch. My bad .


----------



## Iron Sky

Session 31, Part 23

The world turned upside down and inside out.  At least, that was what it felt like to Bail.  One second he and Kormak were standing on the upper level of the Spire of Direction watching the walls melt and run down into the water around them, the next, the whole world seemed to turn white, then black, then colors beyond his capability to describe or understand.

 He was sure he was roaring with rage, shouting with joy, and weeping, all at the same time.  Gravity reversed and he clung to the floor to avoid plummeting up into the sky and then suddenly it was over, and he found himself sprawled on the floor next to Kormak, the world slowly reorienting and returning to its natural state.

 Except, it seemed almost _more_ natural than it had before.  He felt more alive, the sky seemed more blue and the clouds drifting through it more white, the touch of the silversteel on his palms more vibrant.  It had felt like an instant and an eternity that the world had been ending, but it must have been closer to the instant than the infinite. The walls of the Spire had finished running down and had cooled, while beyond, the Radianus Sink was no longer boiling.

 Silently, he and Kormak walked and slide down the slagged sides of the Spire until they were standing on the scorched earth of the island.

 “Now what?” Kormak said.  “We swim back to... where are we going next anyway?”

 Bail squinted at a faint plume of black smoke to the north.  “I guess we ride on that boat over there.”

 They stood and watched it approach until figures were visible packed in on its deck.

 “Of all the... is that _Harold_ on that ship?” Kormak said.

 Bail growled then shook his head.  “Doesn't matter.”

 Kormak glanced at him with a quizzical expression but Bail ignored him.  “We'll just have to boat take us to the eastern edge of the Sink, drop us off at the southern end of the Freeholds.”

 “And then what?”

  “And then we see what sort of world we've remade.”

***

_Epilogue
_ 
 The Endless Sands were replaced by an endless sea, waters rushing in against the towering walls of the new Greater Felskein.  There was tension and war as the peoples of the Skylands, hither-to separated by vast stretches of sky, found themselves immediate neighbors – but there were also new alliances and friendships, instant trade networks springing up and fortunes made and lost in weeks.
 Harold returned to the Crystal Towers to find that the dead had turned   on each other, the liches once under Thessalock's heel withdrawing with   as many of the dead as they could to underground, dark kingdoms where   they battled each other, the peoples of the Freeholds, and the   rapidly rebuilding Crystal Towers.  Harold was soon a Magister – most of   the others having fallen to the onslaught of the Rerisen Tower.  He  was  not the same Harold that had left the Crystal Towers so many months   before, but no one could doubt his dedication to the Crystal Towers.

  He became the Magister of the Navy, bringing in gnomish shipwrights   from the slowly rebuilding Steamport and constructing a navy to dominate   the vast sea that now surrounded the Crystal Towers on all sides.

Bail, joined by Hundred-scales the Shining and the handful of dragons that remained of the fallen Bahamut's Overcouncil, united the squabbling peoples of the Freeholds, creating a powerful empire that formed the beating heart of Greater Felskien, a locus of trade and learning, ruled with a fair though sometimes draconian government.  Kormak and his order kept the peace, removing dissenters and rebels who would threaten Bail's rule and battling the dead of the Lich Barons that lurked beneath the Freeholds.

 Two True Stones were never reclaimed – those held by Thessalock and Lady Hadral.  They found massive craters not far from the Span and just north of Gleam as Thessalock fled the Crystal Towers upon the destruction of the Ashen Tower and as Hadral fled the uprisings in Gleam.  The Grimwythe had not allowed any of the True Stones to survive beyond their reach.

 Suniel and Keeper were never seen or heard from again, though Bail and Kormak always wondered.   

 Near the end of their long years of governance and feeling their age, Bail and Kormak gave up their positions and sought out Harold.  Though half-mad and gnarled with age, Harold agreed to their plan. Together, the three of them gathered together in a steamship to sail to the far side of the world, a final adventure to find their long-lost companions.

 That was the world's final sight of them, sailing out into unknown waters, the ancient human at the helm, bow leaning against the gunwale, his thoughts still on the beloved Crystal Towers he left behind, the grizzled dwarf leaning against the railing and complaining about this and that while patting Dog's great-great grandson on the head, and the half-dragon, massive adamantine sword slung across his back, standing at the prow, gazing into the horizon.

_Here ends:
The Rise of Felskein_.


----------



## Iron Sky

Author's note:

I started writing this story hour two-and-a-half years ago, about a game we started a year before that.  Though my inspiration varied, sometimes sitting down to type with an air of resignation, other times my hands literally shaking as I typed, so excited was I to tell the next piece of the story, it is done.

It's happy and sad both to see my time working on it coming to a close - until this point it was still a living, breathing thing, the energy of the story drifting around in my head waiting to be engraved in digital stone.  It has been a constant, fulfilling part of my life for these years I've been working on it, a stable source of quiet contentment amidst the ups-and-downs of daily life.

I'm grateful to everyone who commented as I was writing - there were times when I might have stopped if it weren't for someone dropping in for a moment.  I wrote this for me, but I also wrote it for all of you and so knowing that others were out there sharing in on my brief view into the lives and adventures of Ming, Ilsa, Suniel and his rag-tag band of followers, Harold, Grok'nar, Kezzek, Bail, Kormak, and all the others that make up this tale - it's been an honor.

My time working on it isn't over yet, there's still the rogue's gallery  to post and I'll probably go back through, edit, and compile the whole  thing into a .pdf over the upcoming months, but the main work is done.  I'll work on it a bit every week until it is entirely completed to my satisfaction and before relegating it to the dusty ENWorld archives, drifting slowly through the back pages into a quiet oblivion.

This too shall pass.

And such is life.


----------



## steeldragons

Bravo, Iron Sky.

I am truly honored, pleased and lucky to have been able to find your Story Hour and catch up on it all soon close to the end.

Reading the campaign as a whole has been quite an inspiration. Not only helping to spark my drawing in recent months but for campaigns and plots of my own toiling around in my brain.

You and your players have much to be proud of and we readers/ENworlders have much to be grateful for.

I'll look forward to the "official" edits/rewrites/pdf and the rogue's gallery will be awesome! (...and can't wait til you guys start up a new game & Story Hour. hint. hint. )

I raise my goblet to you. 
Well done.
--Steel Dragons


----------



## Ryltar

Pardon me for just echoing what has already been said multiple times . This was a great read, and I'm very thankful that you actually saw writing this story hour through to the end. I can't tell you how often I started reading a promising SH, only to find that it petered out in the middle of the campaign due to lack of time or interest or whatever. I've even been guilty of that myself. So: 'mad props' to you .

That being said, some rambling thoughts, in no particular order:

I must say that I liked the beginning of the story hour the most (which, no doubt, is as much a product of your writing as it is of me favoring low to mid-level play). I thought that the characters there had a more ... how shall I put it ... more of a connection, good chemistry, and mixed really well. The atmosphere appeared, for lack of a better word, friendlier.

In the latter stages, the relationships were quite often strained (and if this had been my party, knowing my players, Harold would not have survived his turning on Bail. Heck, they might have killed him just for constantly nagging them with his Crystal Towers ). Aside from Kormak's bickering, I kind of missed Ming's sarcastic remarks (and butt-grabbing ).

I must admit that I sometimes got lost once the story became truly 'epic' (I think this started after they reached Port), and had to go back and reread earlier parts several times. For some reason, I also kept mixing up Kezzek and Kormak . Still, what I liked very much is how you continued to slowly open up the vista to encompass the wider world, from the humble beginnings to the party travelling downriver. The thing that took me by surprise was the Fae forest episode - I hadn't expected them to be in any way relevant to the resolution of the story.

Also, I would have liked to see a resolution (read: big fight ) between Suniel and Thessalock. Pity, that.

For me, the standout moments from the story were:
- The beginning. From the party meeting up to them leaving town, every word was pure brilliance. But I have to single out the first Iron Sky confrontation, the devious Hobgoblin trap, and the 'Suniel'/Altar revelation cliffhanger. 
- The downriver trip and fight versus the Treant.
- Suniel's confrontation with his son and the accompanying roleplay. Heartbreaking.
- The Corpse Ramp! Devious stuff.
- The Grimwythe - the way you foreshadowed the threat was excellent.
- Harold's rampage through the castle when he tried to retrieve his bow.

In closing, let me say that I am really looking forward to the PDF compilation (which I'd definitely print, bind and put into my Story Hour Shelf of Really Excellent Reading (tm) ). Also, I'm hoping that once your current campaign wraps up, you'll DM another (and grace us with another great story).

I know I'll be reading it.

Cheers,
Ryltar


----------



## Iron Sky

Thanks for the comments Ryltar.  To address some of them:

The beginning of the story hour(the first page at least) has the advantage of me going back through and editing it last summer.  Most of the rest of the posts I've given them a quick look over for basic grammatical stuff but haven't done an actual novel-style edit.

As for atmosphere, it was friendlier, part due to the mood I was trying to create and part because of PC chemistry.  It took everything the party had to keep Harold from killing Bail (and visa-versa) and the atmosphere within the party was strained in-and-out of game far more than I let on in the narrative.

I hadn't ruled out an epic final confrontation between the party and Thessalock early in the campaign, but things quickly escalated beyond the scale where Thessalock was really relevant.  I really had no idea exactly where or how this campaign was going to end, it just progressed organically as I presented what was going on in the world and they (mostly) picked what seemed to be the most important stuff to get involved in.

The session where Suniel has the "big reveal" about him and Thessalock and his son was one of the best roleplaying sessions I've had in a decade-and-a-half of roleplaying.  I was shaking with excitement and nervousness for most of it.

Since this game occurred, I ran a 4e game from level 3 to 16.  I had only a fraction of the inspiration this one had and far less developed characters.  I recorded all of them when we were playing in case I was going to turn them into a story hour, but I'm not sure.  It had some (IMO) awesomely cool world elements, neat encounters and some sweet combats, but it wasn't nearly as inspired(especially paragon tier which was mostly combat-after-combat).

I'm not sure if we'll return to that game or if I'll start up a new one with a bit more time spent on world and character development before the game starts.

We'll probably be playing Sanzuo's Dark Sun game for a while yet, so it'll be a while before I produce another story hour... unless I get _really_ inspired to write up the awesome d20 campaign that I ran that is mentioned in the first thread.  That was like 5 years ago though and lots of the details are fuzzy, but we still talk about some of the coolest parts of it.


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## Iron Sky

Brief update: I'm about 2/3 of the way done editing the story hour.  Once that's done, I'll be compiling it into a .pdf and probably putting it into novel format (chapter x instead of session x, part y, novel paragraph structure, etc).

Once that's done I'll upload it and the scanned character sheets for all the characters, the affiliation information, and call it a wrap.

I've got a week-and-a-half off starting next week, so I'm aiming to have it all done before 2011.

Here's the Felskein map with the following overlays:

Map 1: Blank Map
Map 2: Labeled Map
Map 3: MMO-style "Zoned" Map
Map 4: Party travel path (Xs mark locations teleported to)

Enjoy!


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## Ryltar

Nice stuff. I guess I'll have to re-read it from the beginning now . Definitely makes it easier to picture the distances, political relations and such.


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## Iron Sky

I finished the majority of the editing yesterday and am going to start working on the .pdf compilation now.  If you want to wait, I'll have a shiny novelized .pdf out in the next week or two.


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## steeldragons

Just want to go on record as saying...YAY!

I will say, that apparently, as much attention as I pay to character description, my directions/distance imagination was...ooo...yeah, WAY off to the actual map. hahaha.

But can't wait to see the final fully edited version.

Again, great work Iron Sky. My proverbial hat is off to you and your players on a really great story.

--SD


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## Ryltar

Not only your imagination, steeldragons  same thing happened to me. But I guess having an actual map will be invaluable to better picture the story on the second read-through.

Iron Sky: Thanks for 'going all the way' with this - having a compiled PDF would be incredible, and I'll gladly wait for that.

(I'll see about getting my own campaign story hour posted early next year, so maybe I can give a little something back.)


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## Iron Sky

I figure as long as I've come this far, I might as well complete it so I never look back at it and think, "gosh, would have been nice if I'd..." whatever.

I've been working on the .pdf and it's at 189 pages and I'm at page 9 of this thread.  The final result is going to be pretty exactly novel length; 350-400 pages I'd estimate.


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## Iron Sky

Novelized version is done.  Ended up being a bit shorter than I thought: 328 pages.  It's done though.  Next is getting my scanner working and getting the Rogue's Gallery up.  And... that should be it.


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## steeldragons

"You must spread some experience around..." grrrr.

Well, congrats anyway on the finished pdf.

--SD


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## Iron Sky

Bummer.  So, I was going to scan the character sheets for everyone, but unfortunately the scanner I've had sitting in is antiquated and won't plug into my laptop.

So, here's the rough overviews of the characters at game's end (or when they died).  I don't have all their quirks and secrets written down (the dead ones at least), but I'll put what I remember.

Unless anyone has any last questions about anything or I find one of the missing sheets, my work here is done.

[sblock=Sky Monk]Tharoes, Githzerai/Half-dragon, Monk 1
 Str 23, Dex 24, Con 9, Int 7, Wis 18, Cha 9
 Hp 29, AC 21, Initiative +7, Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4
 BaB +0, Claw/Flurry/Claw/Bite: +4/+4/+2/+2 1d6+6/1d6+3/1d6+3
 Feats: Improved Unarmed Strike, Stunning Fist, Multiattack

Darkvision, 3/day daze, featherfall or shatter, fluurry, unarmed strike, firebreath 1/day(30', 6d8-1, DC9 Ref), immune fire, sleep, paralysis

 Quirks: Wacky
 Secrets: Sky Monk![/sblock]

[sblock=Kendrin]Kendrin Moonfire, Cleric 3
Str 12, Dex 11, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 11
Hp 23, AC 15, Initiative +4, Fort +6, Ref +1, Wil +6
BaB +2, Morning Star: +3, 1d6+1
Feats: Improved Initiative, Improved Turning

Spontaneous Spellcasting: Healing, Strength and Healing domains, 4 Lvl 0, 4 Level 1, 3 Level 2 Cleric spells

Quirks: Hates Pain(Must always be at full health), serves Gilderalin
Secrets: ???[/sblock]

[sblock=Ming]Ming, Human, Fighter 2/Cleric 2
Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 16, Cha 13
Hp 30, AC 18, Initiative +7, Fort +9, Ref +3, Wil +6
BaB +3, +1 Greatsword +8, 2d6+4
Feats: Weapon Focus, Power Attack, Cleave, Great Cleave, Improved Initiative

Quirks: Silver Hair, Brusque
Secrets: Wanted, Family Amulet, Fear of Undead[/sblock]

[sblock=Ilsa]Ilsa Goldhammer, Dwarf, Fighter 1/Dragon Shaman 3
Str 15, Dex 15, Con 20, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 14
Hp 57, AC 21, Initiative +2, Fort +6, Ref +3, Wil +3
BaB +3, +1 Longsword: +5, 1d8+2, 19-20/x2
Feats: Power Attack, Cleave

Darkvision, Dwarf stuff, Totem Dragon(Gold), Dragon Auras(Senses, Toughness, Vigor, Energy Shield), Skill Focus: Disguise, Draconic Adaptation - Water Breathing

Quirks: Serves Gilderalin
Secrets: ???[/sblock]

[sblock=Grok'nar]Grok'nar's sheet is nowhere to be found.  He was a Dragon Shaman 1 / Fighter 4 when he died though.

Quirks: Intensely Curious, Arrow in the Head
Secret: Serves a black dragon(I forget which)[/sblock]

[sblock=Angelo]Angelo Marcello, Human, Duskblade 6
 Str 16, Dex 18, Con 16, Int 16, Wis 15, Cha 15
 Hp 59, AC 20, Initiative +4, Fort +8, Ref +6, Wil +7
 BaB +6/1, +1 Rapier/Shortsword +8/+3/+8/+3, 1d6+4/1d6+1, 18/19-20/x2
Brace of +1 Pistols: 50', +9/+4/+9/+4, 1d10+1 20/x3
 Feats: Combat Casting, Rapid Reload(Pistol), Quickdraw, Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Two-Weapon Fighting

Arcane Attunement, Armored Mage, Spell Power +2, Quick Cast 1/day, Arcane Channeling, 6 level 0, 7 level 1, 4 level 2 Duskblade Spells

 Quirks: Black City Fae Hunter
 Secrets: ???[/sblock]

[sblock=Kezzek]Kezzek Stone, Half-orc, Rogue 4/Ranger 5
Str 20, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 8
Hp 68, AC 20, Initiative +3, Fort +7, Ref +11, Wil +5
BaB +8, +2 Quor'rel +15/15/10, 1d8+7/1d8+4, 17-20/x2
Quor'rel bow 110', +15/10, 1d8+7, 19-20/x3
Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency, Weapon Focus, Two-Weapon Defense, Improved Crit

Favored Enemy(Human +2), Track, 2-Hand Combat Style, Sneak Attack +2d6, Evasion, Darkvision, Endurance, Trap Sense +1, Uncanny Dodge, Favored Enemy(Undead +4)

Quirks: Disfigured, Quor'rel, Greywarden, Growls when thinking, Nightmares
Secrets: Birthmark, Raised by Greywardens, Hates deep water, confused by heritage, Destiny[/sblock]

[sblock=Velea]Velea the Skyseer, Gray Elf, Bard 7/Shadowdancer 3
 Str 10, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 15, Wis 8, Cha 16
 Hp 42, AC 23, Initiative +3, Fort +3, Ref +12, Wil +5
 BaB +7, +1 Longsword +8/+3, 1d8+1, 19-20/x2
 Feats: Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Mobility, Shadow Striker

Bardic Music, Bardic Knowledge, Other barde stuff, Hide in Plain Sight, Evasion, Darkvision, Uncanny Dodge, Shadow Illusion, Summon Shadow[/sblock]

[sblock=Bail]Sadly Bail is also missing, though I have some partial information on my "player reference sheet"

Bail, Half-Dragon, Dragon Shaman 1/Fighter 6?
 Str 28?, Dex ?, Con ?, Int ?, Wis ?, Cha ?
 Hp ?, AC ?, Initiative ?, Fort +10, Ref +4, Will +5
 BaB ?, +2 Adamantine Greatsword...
 Feats: ?

 Quirks: Meepo companion, pretends to be cart animal, sleeps in horde, draconic draw to treasure, doesn't use full name(names have power!)
 Secrets: Memeber of overcouncil, child of Gilderalin, leaves everything to Meepo in his Will, Raised by Kobalds, can fly into berserk rage when angered

If we can find his sheet (not especially likely) I'll put up his full stats.[/sblock]

[sblock=Kormak]Kormak Skaligrimson, Dwarf, Monk 12
 Str 16, Dex 16, Con 15, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 5
 Hp 86, AC 25, Initiative +4, Fort +10, Ref +12, Wil +14
 BaB +9/4, Unarmed +12/+12/+12/+7, 2d6+3, 20/x2
 Feats: Improved Unarmed Strike, Improved Grapple, Deflect Arrows, Combat Focus, Combat Stability, Improved Trip, Dodge, Combat Defense, Versatile Unarmed Strike, Combat Vigor, Stunning Fist, Fiery Fists, Ki Blast

Dwarf stuff, Improved evasion, still mind, ki strike, slow fall 60', purity of body, wholeness of body, mark of the pen, mark of the hand, diamond body, greater flurry, abundant step

 Quirks: Dislikes horses, never undresses around others, abrasive personality, attached to Dog, thing for poison
 Secrets: Member of Black Dawn, assassinated Elorn Stoneprow, Ranged Weapons mean you're weak, phobia of helplessness, supports Greywardens, assassinated Danovin Au[/sblock]

[sblock=Suniel]Suniel Au, Gray Elf, Wizard 11/Archmage 2
  Str 12, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 28, Wis 11, Cha 10
  Hp 72, AC 13, Initiative +3, Fort +7, Ref +8, Wil +12
  BaB: who cares?
  Feats: Combat Casting, Craft Wonderous Items, Craft Arms/Armor, Leadership, Craft Constructs, Craft Wand, Craft Rod, Forge Ring, Spell Focus - Evocation

Familiar(Toad), Scribe Scroll, elf stuff, shape spell, master of elements, Fae Warden, 4 level 0, 7 level 1, 6 level 2, 6 level 3, 6 level 4, 5 level 5, 4 level 6, 3 level 7, 2 level 8 Wizard Spell

Quirks: Doesn't eat meat, black carriage, curious, meditates nude, collects odds and ends
Secrets: Was married to a human, has a son, was once evil and drained of power, body covered in arcane scars, worships the One Tree[/sblock]

[sblock=Keeper]Keeper, Keeper, Keeper 2
  Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 16, Wis 16, Cha 16
  Hp 40, AC 22, Initiative +3, Fort -, Ref +11, Wil +9
  BaB +6/1, Eyes: 60', +9, 1d8
Energy Blade: +9/+4, 1d8+6, 19-20/x2
  Feats: Endurance, Die Hard, Dodge, Lightning Reflexes, Run, Skill Focus: Concentration

Darkvision, Immune Mind-effecting, poison, sleep, paralysis, stun, disease, death, necromancy, critical, non-leathal, fatigue, exhaustion, energy drain, fast healing 6, Hardness 6

4 level 0, 4 level 1, 3 level 2, 2 level 3 of any classes of spell[/sblock]

[sblock=Harold]I don't have Harold's sheet, but Xyque might see this and put it up since he has the sheet.[/sblock]


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## Ryltar

steeldragons said:


> "You must spread some experience around..." grrrr.




This.

Still, a final thank you is in order - great work on the PDF.

Rock on, man.


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## wolff96

A friend of mine recently pointed this story hour out to me and I've spent the last few days burning through it.  All I have to say is:  Wow.

I really enjoyed it, Iron Sky, and thought you did a great job of ramping things up from the basic, against-the-goblins origins to saving the world from destruction.  There was a lot of foreshadowing and glimpses of higher level threats even near the beginning, which was just really well done.

I will have to say that Harold would not have survived in pretty much any group I've ever played in.  Yikes.  He started as a fanatic and just went further and further off the deep end as the story continued...  That's a great arc and some good RP, but wow...

Anyway, just wanted to drop in and add my two cents to all the others congratulating you on finishing this amazing story hour!


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## Iron Sky

Hey wolff96, glad that you enjoyed it!

I'm actually in the midst of analyzing this and other campaigns I've run that turned out exceptional to determine what made them different from the others I've run that were not (like the 4e game I ran after this).

I've come to the conclusion the Quirks and Secrets makes a huge difference even if the players only spend 10 minutes coming up with them. I read somewhere that one of the reasons why D&D games tend to be so combat-intensive is that players are required by the system to spend an hour or more working on the combat-relevant parts of their characters and only a few minutes on non-combat stuff.

People want payoff on their investment, so if they've put an hour into their combat mechanics and 5 minutes on their backstory, they'll want combat to justify their investment.  If they've spent 30 minutes coming up with quirks, secrets, flaws - in general a past and a personality, even if it's basic, they'll have more interest in the non-combat parts of the game.

There was a GURPs scifi game I ran that was one of the best campaigns I've ever run even if didn't like the system, mainly due to the fact that I had a separate character-creation session with each player where we spent _hours_ creating back-story and their character at the same time.

Unfortunately, my players were so into the game that we played every other day for two weeks (everyone was on X-mas break) and I burned out hard (unfamiliarity with GURPs didn't help) causing the campaign and the subsequent novel I was writing along with it to die in the middle.

I've gone back several times in an attempt to finish said novel, but my years of GMing have robbed me of the ability to just decide what happens in a novel - I'd rather write about the interesting things that came about instead of "forcing" them to happen in my imagination.

That said, I'm creating a rules-light RPG that I figure I can also use to write a novel since the character creation is fast and weaving together the character elements has been making characters with established, interesting backgrounds and motivations in a paragraph!

If I start another story hour or other writing project, I'll link to it from here.


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## Theo R Cwithin

Interesting insights on traits, backstory, etc.  I hadn't really thought of it in those terms.  Seems a good way to kind of ensure all the players on the same page about what's in store with the campaign.  Philosophy yoinked. 

Anyway, congrats on finishing this up, and many thanks for seeing it through!  It's really engaging stuff, and I look forward to accidentally stumbling upon your next awesome story.   

.


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## Neurotic

I can confirm that part about GURPS.

Flaws and traits are supported (in fact expected) part of the character creation and there are even quirks, little disadvantages with minor or no mechanical penalty, there just to give your characters some color.

Skills play much greater part which of course means there needs to be RP parts where those skills can be used.


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## Iron Sky

This isn't a Rise of Felskein update and it isn't another story hour, but I have been doing a commentary on the Dark Sun game we're playing now here.


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## Iron Sky

It took me almost a year, but the novelized version of this Story Hour is available at Smashwords here in all eBook formats for major eBook readers (PDF, Kindle, iPad, etc).

The cover is done by our own  @steeldragons  here on ENWorld! Many thanks to him; it turned out far better than I could have hoped!

If you get the book in the next three days (until September 15th) you can enter the following code to get it free as thanks to everyone at ENWorld whose encouragement helped me make it happen!

*Code*: AB49K

Enjoy! (and tell your friends )

Edit: Unrelated side note, if you hadn't noticed already, I've started another story hour. If you want to check it out, it's in my sig.


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## Blackbrrd

Downloaded the book and going to check it out on my two week vacation to Rhodos. I will give you a review when I come back.


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## Blackbrrd

I just finished all 543 pages of it. I am quite impressed. It's very easy to get into and quite entertaining.

The group angle is unusual and would have worked better if more characters than the elf wizard were interesting. 

The casual way party members are left to die felt a bit weird. Maybe they were henchmen or their players were busy creating a new character?

The story was quite original, better than quite a lot of published fantasy novels.

Thanks for the free book


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## doghead

Just finished reading this SH again.

Because it is the awesome.

thotd


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## Iron Sky

Blackbrrd said:


> I just finished all 543 pages of it. I am quite impressed. It's very easy to get into and quite entertaining.
> 
> The group angle is unusual and would have worked better if more characters than the elf wizard were interesting.
> 
> The casual way party members are left to die felt a bit weird. Maybe they were henchmen or their players were busy creating a new character?
> 
> The story was quite original, better than quite a lot of published fantasy novels.
> 
> Thanks for the free book




Only noticed this 7 years later, but glad you enjoyed it! 

I ran pretty brutal games back then and we definitely suffered from "player churn" as the PCs died in combat. Also, the archer player really wanted to play a solo game and often made choices that seemed optimal for him even if it meant other players died.


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