# The 6 Elements // Trials On The Isle Of Dread



## DrNilesCrane (Jun 22, 2006)

Zahkura tended the fire on the first day after the receding of the storms—common enough during _The Month of Arrival _ and inconvenient for those who traveled to Mivilious to seek guidance from the Oracle. For the entire month, at least when the weather allowed, the Mious tended a fire on the south shore, creating a red and black smoke to serve as a guide for the new arrivals. Zahkura waited patiently for the first half of the day, drinking water and occasionally walking to the shade of the nearby tropical jungle for momentary relief from the heat while keeping her cold iron spear handy and enjoying the slight relief the cool touch of the metal provided. She was of the Mious tribe and looked young, perhaps in her early twenties, with skin bronzed by a lifetime of exposure to the sun. She wore little other than a simple cloth skirt and simple jewelry, and carried the ornate blue metallic spear as her only weapon.

Around the middle of the afternoon, when _Solaris_ was at his peak in the sky and the tide the lowest, she spotted ships sailing into the bay. Six skiffers, a catch-all name for the relatively small, typically flat-bottom boats that travel _The Starfall Isles_, each of a different size and construction, slowed then stopped, each unsure about navigating the bay during the low tide. The water level was low enough to walk across much of the bay along the tops of sandbars, and the barely covered rocks could tear out the bottom of a boat, making the journey to Mivilious a one-way trip. Yet, these conditions were not the only ones that gave the six ship captains, their crew, and their passengers pause: several miles to the northwest, from the western side of Mivilious, a column of boiling clouds rose into the sky. They only ascended a few hundred feet, but the area they covered was growing and the outer edge of the swirling mass would eventually reach the ships and the bay in as little as ten minutes by the best estimation.

Zahkura noticed the clouds as well.

“Soulivum,” she whispered, suddenly alarmed.

Zahkura watched the clouds briefly, then turned back to the bay and newly arrived ships. Each ship was readying a small rowboat with a single occupant: as soon as they hit the water, each occupant dipped the oars into the water and began pushing hard toward the island. Within a minute, all six were away from their respective ships and rowing quickly toward the beach, trying to beat the approach of the storm. The skiffers moved off, not wanting to risk being buffeted by the growing squall, leaving the six passengers on their own.

_The new arrivals._


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## DrNilesCrane (Jun 22, 2006)

Author's Note:  This story hour is written through an online blog our gaming group creates after each adventure to summarize the adventure.  We use a digital projector for maps and visual aids as well.


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## DrNilesCrane (Jun 22, 2006)

Act I

Six rowboats moved closer to shore. 

A slender elven woman in flowing blue robes sat in one of the rowboats, taking a precious moment to watch as Kinipela's Flight quickly started moving away from her. For a brief moment, she felt as if her last connection to home was leaving her, and the urge to signal the ship back was almost overwhelming. _You will not be derelict in Vaz'Cleg the very first moment you are alone!_, Jazira scolded herself mentally. A quick glance back at the island showed the storm growing worse, so she started rowing harder for the shore. Rowing was more difficult than she had anticipated, even with the surge of the waves helping her along. _Perhaps ... I should have ... included this ... in my training ... Regimen_, she panted to herself, as her best efforts seemed to demonstrate very little progress.

"The people of Andira thank you for your hospitality, Wayland!" a small Halfling woman shouted up to the man piloting the Laros. Seeing the others rowing toward the shore, Lyra laughed as she said to herself "No sense in squashing all their hopes by beating them to the shore." She grabbed hold of the oars and started pulling, in spite of herself. The change in the weather worried her, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she would focus on finding her rhythm and closing the distance between herself and the beach. 

Climbing into his rowboat and steadying his large form carefully against the rocking of the small craft, Stormbringer attended to his belongings. At eight feet of height and over 300 pounds, the goliath dwarfed the rowboat. He wore a large pack that was stuffed almost to overflowing. Careful not to pin his large flail beneath him, he secured the great hammer he carried before taking up the oars. Once settled, Stormbringer scanned the surroundings, taking careful note of the others approaching the shore. The human he eyed warily, though the man did not appear as savage as the large furry creature with the horns some distance further away. The two small figures of halflings made him smile. He was still not accustomed to such slight figures in the outer world. Just past the hairy creature rowed the more familiar form of a female elf. He took some comfort in knowing that one of the strangers approaching would not be quite so unusual to him.

As he began to row toward the shore, he saw that the woman tending the smoke fires seemed to be concerned about the approaching clouds. Glancing up at them himself, he realized that they were even much closer than they had been when he left The Sable Drake. He decided to row harder; sudden storms were a danger he knew well, and he had no desire to be caught at sea when this one hit.

In the midst of the diverse group of new arrivals desperately plying their oars, the Tsarukai warrior, known as a "minotaur" in Tradespeak, did not feel himself out of place. With a wave of thanks to Preston, his skiffer's captain, he set about making time to the island, putting his prodigious strength to good use. The warrior, who called himself Hawk, offered a silent prayer to Tsaruk and, not for the first time, wondered just exactly why he had been chosen to bear the honor, and the burden, of the Starfall Mark.

Bidding his farewell to Captain Baris and the crew of The Windrunner, Vargas lowered himself into his rowboat and began the final leg of his journey to the island of Mivilious. He noticed as he did so that several other ships were releasing rowboats as well; of particular notice was a boat manned by elves that flew the markings of the island of Suel. He had little time to take note of the other boats as he noticed that a storm seemed to be brewing over the coast of the island. Vargas put his lean muscle to the test as he pulled the oars through the water in an attempt to reach the shore before the growing storm broke.

Captain Kezem pointed the menacing clouds out to him as he started to row away from The Aquazure. Elin had a good look before pulling hard on the oars to clear himself from the skiffer. Once he was clear he gave a wave to the captain, who was still watching him as the crew made ready to move away from the storm. He would miss that old man.

Zahkura watched them row, admiring their bravery, and kept one eye on the storm.

Behind her, she heard movement in the jungle.

Three grey-skinned men ran onto the beach, yelling angrily. They wore little and carried only javelins, with satchels of extra ammunition on their back. The grey coloration, whether natural or some kind of pigmentation, uniformly covered their bodies and was only broken by a thick black streak across their faces. These men (of the Burowao tribe) emerged from the jungle while yelling angrily: Zahkura replied, although the language was foreign to all of the six arrivals on the beach that could hear it carried by the slight breeze.

Two of the Burowao warriors stepped to the shore and threw their javelins at the occupant of the nearest boat.

Turning her head at the sound of angry shouts, Jazira was shocked to see the gray-skinned men actually attacking. _Are we not expected, or welcome? Dracos Vitellia told me the island was dangerous, but nothing about receiving this kind of welcome_! She noticed five other row boats from the other ships, all headed towards the shoreline. The one closest to her held a small Halfling female who seemed to chatter nonstop as she struggled with her oars. There was a very large creature with horns in another one, _A minotaur_? she wondered to herself, who simply stepped out of his boat and picked it up, using it as a shield against the javelins. Looking back at the beach to see how much farther she had to go, she was just in time to dodge a javelin that was thrown at her. Shock was quickly replaced by anger, lending energy to her efforts. She spared no more time looking at the others in the rowboats, but focused on simply reaching the shore alive.

Stormbringer paused in his rowing for a moment as the grey skinned figures began to throw their javelins at the others. They were far enough away from him that he did not think they would pay him much mind as yet, but he still felt wary of rowing straight into battle. _One would not wish to begin one's visit to Mivilious with bloodshed_, he thought worried as he renewed his efforts to get to shore. Arruv had warned him of these grey skinned people, but he had not expected to encounter their prejudice so quickly.

_Good thing I'm way back here_, Lyra thought. To her, it sounded as if the grey-skins were shouting "Kill the Starfallen! Rip their guts out through their noses!" But, she must have been mistaken (and she could not understand their language)... it could only be a trick of the wind. She recognized the Burowao, but was confused by all their shouting. All her reading and questioning of those who knew such things said that these people were mute.

“Dat storm is dangerous! Seek cover!” Hawk yelled. He recalled well the warning of the Hrunthar-Dhar Starfallen monk Marat regarding the storms. _The Old Gods waste no time in testing us_, he thought. Deciding that the storm was a far more dangerous adversary than the grey-skinned humans, Hawk put all of his might into getting to solid land. For his efforts, he was rewarded with relentless attacks from the natives javelins. Luckily, none found their mark.

_Hawk_, thought Vargas. _I feared for your survival after our encounter on Zuloc. What a relief it is to see that you yet live and are free_. Vargas had little time for additional thought as he observed the odd gray-skinned savages attack the lone female. Although he didn't know the specifics of the battle, he was loath to leave a single person to fight against such odds. In an instant he made his choice to side with the woman, and he could only hope that she wasn't some sort of evil doer who had rightfully earned the wrath of those who attacked her.

Elin heard the natives as well as the others in the boats. He was not worried for them yet, as a moving boat was a hard target to hit from the shore. But the woman on the beach he was worried about, for it looked like she was there to greet them. All he could do though was mumble curses about the crazy natives and pull harder, hoping to get to shore before anyone was hurt.

The minotaur was the first to gain the shore, trudging up the beach and loosing the gigantic spiked chain from around his arms. _So, little grey men, you wish to test us? Let me know how I do_. The massive spikes at the end of the chain wrapped fully around the closest man's head, cleanly severing it from the neck in a violent whipping motion. Hawk, as always, couldn't help the slight feeling of regret at the sight of death. But, as the javelin of the dead man's companion nicked his ribs, Hawk decided he'd best use his time to plan his next move. A nod and an unrecognized word from Zahkura was clear enough: Hawk went to stand with her against the grey-skins.

Vargas rowed his boat with all his strength, determined to join the battle before the lone woman was cut down. He reached the shore only a little behind Hawk, and leapt into battle against the gray-skinned warriors, his twin broadblade swords flashing in the sunlight.

Zahkura suffered a wound from one of the Burowao warriors and replied with a lethal jab from her spear, dropping him. More appeared from the jungle and ran past her, looking to attack the new arrivals, but she gave chase. Between Vargas and the native woman, another of the Burowao attackers fell. Vargas then charged to the aid of one of the other warriors who had just made it to shore. A quick cut from one of his blades ended the threat from the Burowao who menaced her.

As soon as her boat reached the shore, Jazira jumped out, ready to attack the gray man closest to her. Before she could do anything, however, a human man came up and quickly dispatched him. He greeted her, obviously recognizing she came from Suel, and Jazira responded with a wry comment, "Not exactly the welcoming committee I had expected," which drew a laugh from the man before they both moved towards other gray men on the beach. Hawk, meanwhile, stood with Zahkura, fully expecting her to signal that they run to some sort of shelter as the clouds grew menacingly dark and close. He gestured up, toward them, and she seemed to signal that shelter was not far, into the jungle. At least, he hoped that's what she'd meant. At that moment, a javelin found its mark in his back, and he turned his thoughts again to the battle.

"One... more... pull!" Lyra shouted. As her boat finally reached the shore, she focused on the two Burowao ahead of her. She hopped out and reached for her rapier, sizing up the enemy and formulating her plan. Flying up the beach, she headed for the weaker looking of the two, but, before she could engage, a javelin ripped through her shirt, narrowly missing her spleen. She looked at her attacker and shouted "This is the warmest welcome I've had in a year!" Her thrust with the rapier missed, so, instead, she ran toward the mysterious Elven woman a short way down the beach. "So, now what do we do?" she asked, with a woozy smile.

The sight of all the bodies on the beach, in particular the ones the minotaur had killed, was the most gruesome sight Jazira had ever seen before. She could feel her gorge rising in her throat as the reality of the scene hit her. Gritting her teeth in determination, she turned her face away, taking slow, deep breaths until her stomach started to settle. _I will not shame myself before these people_, she thought fiercely, directing her gaze instead to the thick jungle growth. The question from the vocal Halfling woman, now smiling cheerfully up at her, also helped distract her from her nausea. "I believe we need to get off this beach and find protection from the storm, once all of these ... gray men have been dealt with." She swallowed carefully, and looked around the beach, avoiding another close look at the bodies.

Elin jumped from his boat as soon as he felt it hit ground. He immediately drew his sling and went to work casting stones at the grey natives threatening the woman by the fire and the elf and halfling, but his aim was off. He did not worry about the great men, especially the one with horns. If the natives had had any brains they would have turned and ran before he got to shore.

As Stormbringer stepped from the boat and straightened, grateful to be on land once again, he saw that most of the savage natives had already been defeated. There was one, however, who was as yet unoccupied and making his way closer, waving a javelin fiercely.

"One is of the Starfallen Mark," Stormbringer shouted in protest. "One does not mean harm!"

It was evident, however, that the native either did not understand or did not care. Reluctantly, Stormbringer unhooked his large great hammer from his belt where he'd secured it to row and stepped closer, hoping that his greater size and mighty weapon might dissuade the man. Even though Stormbringer towered over the man by a good two or three feet, however, the native was not to be frightened off. He stabbed his javelin into Stormbringer's thigh. Though the goliath's thick skin and leather armor combined to reduce the force of the blow, a small puncture wound was opened.

Sighing regretfully, Stormbringer swung his hammer once, and then again when the native refused to give up the attack. The final blow drove the man to the ground in a bloody heap, and Stormbringer stepped sadly past to make his way into the forest where the others were already coming together.

With all nine of the grey-skinned warriors slain, the six strangers (seven including their host) quickly gathered together. Hawk quickly related that the storm was very dangerous; others agreed. Zahkura seemed to be indicating the same through gestures and the tone of her words, which were clear enough despite being largely incomprehensible other than “Soulivim” (to which she pointed at the storm).

"Soulivim! I know that word!" Lyra shouted. "It's bad! We have to get to safety, perhaps in a cave." 

The group agreed and quickly followed Zahkura into the jungle, running through the dense foliage while conversing as best they could, quickly confirming they were all Starfall Marked and had traveled to Mivilious to seek out the mysterious Oracle for guidance. 

Stormbringer did not question the native woman's urgency. Not taking time for introductions, though he admitted that he too had the Starfall Mark when the large horned man asked, he hurried to keep close behind the native. At least she wasn't trying to kill him. Even though they all hurried to keep together, there was some small discussion as they walked. The elf, Stormbringer noted, kept quiet though she eyed everyone with the same measure of wariness. One of the halflings (Lyra), a female he could tell now, kept up a constant chatter about islands and the natives that he could not quite keep up with. The elf looked down at her every now and then with a rather bemused expression on her face, but she mainly concentrated on moving as quickly as possible through the thick jungle. Every now and then the furry one called Hawk, who was not much smaller than Stormbringer himself, would interject with a comment about the natives.

"One was told that some of the natives to this island are unable to distinguish between outsiders," Stormbringer told them. "An offense made by any outsider is an offense shared by all."

Jazira didn't recall hearing that fact from either Inar or Dymass, but the thought it might be truth was worrying. _I wouldn't think the Mious would be like that, surely, as they are the ones who host those blessed by the Old Gods_. She mentally raised her hands at the mention of the Old Gods, in affectionate imitation of Dymass. _But if we are all to be held responsible by one person's mistake, I think we must tread very carefully while here_. She hoped that the others would feel the same responsibility. 

Vargas knew next to nothing about this island, but he was willing to follow the lead of his new companions if it meant avoiding the obviously ominous signs of the growing storm.

Elin wondered why the storm was so worrisome to their guide, but he had learned to follow the wisdom of others. And after the display the woman had put on at the beach he was more than willing to follow her lead, especially if there were more of the grey natives lurking in the woods.

Zahkura led the party to a shallow stream, which was much easier to follow than the narrow, vine layered paths in the jungle. It had the additional benefit of being slightly cooler, a welcome relief to the newcomers. The storm clouds continued their growth: they extended nearly over the group and shed a dark, angry purple light over the air. The wind was still and the jungle nearly silent in anticipation as the group rushed down the river, rounding a corner and spotting a small patch of beach with an obvious cave opening from a nearby hillside.


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## DrNilesCrane (Jun 24, 2006)

Act 2

Zahkura borrowed the candle from Lyra and lit small fires in six pots: each burned a flame of a different color (dark charcoal, reddish, blue, a silvery flame, gray, and a pure white flame). They were arranged in a circle at one end of the cave in front of a rough sketching on the cave wall: Zahkura sat in the middle of the circle with the spear on her lap and seemed to meditate or pray, leaving the party to wait and talk amongst themselves.

The flames from the pots illuminated the carving on the wall, revealing an image of a dragon. Jazira walked over to examine it briefly, being careful not to disturb Zahkura's quiet meditation. Seeing the picture recalled her interview with Wyst to mind, and she thought back on the slightly awkward hour spent in his company. _We might have only spoken about generalities, but he did seem sincere in his well wishes for me. I have a feeling that my experience on this island will produce questions that I wish I had known in time to ask him_. Sighing briefly, she quelled the urge to continue pacing - _Ladies do not fidget, Jazira_! - and found a seat on the sandy floor next to Lyra.

With nothing to do but wait out the storm, a ragged conversation started up. When the conversation turned inevitably to the Starfall Marks they all had, Jazira was interested to learn that Dracos Vitellia herself had discovered Hawk's Mark. It made her feel better to have even this slight connection to what was otherwise a group of strangers, and she asked Hawk how he had met her. Hawk detailed for Jazira how Vitellia managed to kill a Hrunthar-Dhar warrior in one blow, but was somewhat surprised that she didn't wish to hear more detail. After a moment, he looked down at himself, bloody and covered in seeping wounds, then looked at the boulder in the cave mouth. _Got time. Perhaps the Old Gods will hear me_. Without fanfare, he sat down and began to meditate.

Vargas turned to Jazira and said, "You are from Suel, aren't you?" Nodding, Jazira briefly described her island. "We trade, mostly. Jewelry, textiles - including sea silk, and household goods comprise most of it. We have gemstone mines as well." She shrugged slightly, unaccustomed to talking to strangers who knew nothing of Suel. "Our city covers the entire island, which is fairly small." She thought briefly about describing more of the culture, but decided against it for the moment.

Listening to the other's rather wondrous tales of pleasant islands and vile swamps, Stormbringer shook his head in wonder. "Life on Gilarthan is harsh and short. There are swamps there as well, but none go into them if they wish to come back out again." He looked over to Vargas. "Your race lives in the swamp, and they are feared and reviled. Fortunately, one has met other humans since leaving Gilarthan, and one has learned that you are not all so cruel and vile."

"I have never met one such as yourself, "Vargas replied. "But my home too is a place that is often dangerous. I lived in a vast forest that was populated by a variety of dangerous beasts. There is also a swamp on Toragon, but far worse than cruel humans dwell there."

Stormbringer nodded. "The goliaths are rare outside of Gilarthan. One has not met any since one left, though one heard of others, once. They are said to be from far up north."

As Lyra listened to everyone tell of the harshness of their homelands and journeys, she stared at them with a look of total admiration. "It is nothing like that where I come from." Lyra went on to explain that Andira, her homeland, was an island of simplicity and quiet. She talked of her life as a Grover, responsible for harvesting and cleaning the roots of the 'Great and Glorious Malagorian Trees.' As an Andiran, the scariest thing she had encountered was getting tangled on tree roots while swimming through the swamps. "But, someone only dies from that every three or four years," she added.

At that moment, the cave was suddenly bathed in a blue light from the back of Hawk's hand. Still seated, Hawk ran his now brightly glowing Starfall Mark over his wounds. To the amazement of all, the wounds simply disappeared, leaving him completely healed and without adverse effects. This left no doubt as to the purpose of his Mark. "Don't remember name, but is sacred to Luna. Good Mark for warrior to have, eh?" Hawk grinned sheepishly.

The group watched the healing with amazement: while healing by manipulating the third element, lithos, was possible, it was always intensely painful. A curative spell or magic simply accelerated the body's own natural healing: it was as if days or weeks of healing occurred in a few seconds. The process caused even the most hardened warriors to scream in pain: in many cases, the pain was such that it would leave those healed knocked unconcious for hours. 

Stormbringer was reluctant to speak of his mark at first. Stellatus Muandro had been certain that the Venoc wished to kill him because of it; in the months since, he had been sparing in trusting others with the information. But as the others spoke of their mark and the blessings that it provided, he felt for the first time as though he were not the outsider. He decided if there was any time to speak of the mark before meeting the oracle, it was now.

"One's sign is called a 'Patrocinor'," he said, touching his right arm. "It's red..."

"A Sardra mark," Vargas interrupted.

Stormbringer nodded. "So one has been told. 'Patrocinor' means invincible...er, invulnerable, one means. When it is activated, one cannot be burned or hurt." He smiled. "One has been able to activate it twice already."

Taking advantage of a pause in the conversation, Jazira spoke up. "My mark is called Invalesco, and is of lithos. Dracos Vitellia told me that it means strength. I have only activated it once, but it makes me much larger and stronger for a brief moment. It tends to wreak havoc on my clothing, however, which is why I am now wearing such loose clothing." A graceful gesture indicated her robes; while made of sea silk and obviously high quality, the loose fit made to accommodate the changes brought on by her Mark emphasized her slender build, lending her an air of deceptive fragility.

Hawk's eyes narrowed: "You wear nice clothing," he said without preamble. 

Jazira stiffened noticeably. "Yes. My family has a mercantile concern in textiles." 

Hawk's brow furrowed at this. "Text-tiles? Dat books?" he asked. 

Jazira corrected him, and replied, "Why do you ask?"

"You got money, den. See, I can heal if I get medicines and such, a kit for healing, but I got nothing but what you see on my back." At this point, a discussion as to how and where to purchase a healer's kit revealed the difficulty they were in: the island was not exactly urbane. However, Jazira's eyes had flashed with rage, and her first impulse at the minotaur's uncouth comment was to deliver him a blistering set down. Restraining that urge, however, she thought about what he had said and realized he was correct. _Not that I have much money on me_, she thought wryly. _Which is quite a change from what I am accustomed to, but no matter. My family's riches do not constitute who I am_. The last comment was thought in an effort to convince herself of that truth. Her entire trip, ending on this island, was very different from the life she had known thus far. "Perhaps it is something we might all join in on and purchase, when we have the opportunity." she suggested mildly. "It is something we would all benefit from, after all."

Lyra hesitated for a moment before taking her turn. In her ears, she could hear all the things people associated with the element of her Mark. _Thief. Pickpocket. Deceiver_. But those nagging voices were quickly pushed aside when she thought of what Magister Ilrion had shared with her. "My mark," she said, "is called Prestgigszhea....Prestiglea...Forgive me... It is a hard word to say when I'm excited." Slowly, almost phonetically, she pronounced the name of her mark. "Praestigiae. It means illusion in Draconic..."

Before Lyra could continue, she heard what sounded like everyone gasp (in fear, or amazement, she couldn't be sure). Then, someone said "The mark of Umbra?"

"Yes," Lyra replied, somewhat uneasily. "Unfortunately, it isn't as useful as being able to heal your wounds, like some people's mark. But I bet it could be a lot of fun. When I use it, 6 of me appear. And they run around and talk and do other things. But it doesn't last long."

When it came time for Vargas to reveal his mark, he shrugged rather indifferently. "It is called Quondam and is a mark of Animus. With it I can see briefly into the past, although I have only ever been able to make it work once." There was a little more to Vargas' mark than merely perceiving Animus, but seeing as it hadn't been of any use to him while he was enslaved, he didn't really consider it worth mentioning.

Elin did not have much to tell them about his mark as it was so recently discovered. "It is called Accelero, a Menta mark. It allows me to move really fast. So fast that other people only see me as a blur." He hoped it would be useful mark, but the only things that had come to mind were ways to avoid problems. He also worried that it might not be useful when he needed it most. It wasn't a mark like Hawk's, that he could concentrate on using out of the thick of things. It would be most useful when things were in a bad way already.

"It could be good to be fast," Stormbringer said with admiration. "One has often noticed that those alike your kind are much more difficult to hit because they are so quick."

After about an hour, the air in the small cave had grown stale. Zahkura rejoined the group and conveyed that it was time to move the boulder: she stood at the ready with her spear while the group pushed the boulder back into place. Outside of the cave, the sky was again clear and the storm was gone, having given way to only a slight breeze. However, the river was now completely frozen for at least fifty feet in all directions, with the entrance of the cave serving as an obvious center point. The bodies of the Burowao attackers were covered as well, their last desperate attempt to reach the cave petrified within the ice, which was just starting to melt in the heat.

For a moment, the group was silent as they slowly looked over the bizarre scene.

The Burowao watched them with lifeless eyes, encased in the ice.

Jazira mumbled, "We have served ice at parties before." As soon as the words were uttered, she wished she could take them back. _Jazira, you are an idiot of immense proportions_! she told herself. _What does that fact have to do with our situation here on this island? Nothing! Remember to think before you speak from now on_. Hoping that the slight blush on her cheeks wouldn't be noticed, she fell silent.

"Ice?" Lyra said, overwhelmed by the scene of carnage. "I had ice once, not too long ago. Only my last day at the Academy. Magister Ilrion had some with our drinks when we finished combat practice that morning. It was the most delicious feeling, drinking cold Malagorian tea under the hot morning sun." She looked around and noticed the others had left her behind with her thoughts, so she stopped talking and skittered, as quickly as the ice would allow, up to the rest of the group.

Looking around with surprise, Vargas said, "Sometimes in the winter months cold winds will blow off the mountains of Toragon and bring with them frost and snow, but I have never seen the likes of this."  He tried to put on a brave face in front of the destruction.

Elin had never seen ice in such great quantities. He had barely believed it existed until Captain Kezem had surprised the crew with a bonus, that some Southerner had produced for them for a job well done. He didn't think things could get that cold, at least not any where near the Tempest Isles.

Stormbringer looked at the bodies with astonishment. He had seen people slain in such a way before, but never so quickly or by such a sudden storm that came and went in such a brief time. "It can be cold in the mountains of Gilarthan," he said, "but one has never seen a thing like this."

No one wanted to speak of the many dead layered under the ice: the entire group carefully ignored the horror before them.

None had an explanation.

“Soulivum,” Zahkura whispered, glancing to the sky. She did not seem afraid of its return--whatever it was that wrought such devastation--and the group followed her lead and carefully crossed the ice.  The group followed their guide further down the river in silence for a few minutes before turning to the northeast and back into the jungle.

The journey through the jungle required about two hours of walking through the dense foliage along winding paths that were little more than slightly less obstructed areas of the jungle. The heat was also intense (typical for the environment), causing Lyra to become overwhelmed by heatstroke and pass out. Stormbringer carried her the remaining distance to the village of the Mious. Jazira was finally succumbing to the intense heat as well, and her face was pale beneath the flush of exertion. The sight of the village was a welcome one; even more so was the sight of the river with its promise of cool water.

The village consisted of several dozen huts built elevated about five or six feet off the ground by poles in a sandy clearing next to a shallow, gently flowing river. The huts were of simple wood and vine construction: walking through the village, the group saw little evidence of any civilization or trade (such as forged tools). The dwellings reminded Elin of home, as the swamp required that the living areas be built high above the water. The villagers were human and similarly dressed (and without much concern for modesty) as Zahkura and looked to the party with both curiosity and excitement, talking elatedly among themselves while bowing to the new arrivals. The party quickly went to the stream to recover from the heat for several minutes; Lyra awoke but was feeling drained and tired. Though the natives hadn't experienced her need to talk, the others in the group could tell by her silence that she was not feeling at all well. Hawk was more direct: "You look like , " he said. Lyra offered a feeble laugh for the minotaur's candor. 

Jazira splashed water over herself eagerly, unconcerned by the fact that her robes were soon soaked. She felt much cleaner, although only marginally cooler, and her skin welcomed the moisture. Supremely grateful for the water, she was nonetheless regretful of the fact that it was too shallow for swimming. _If I can only figure out how to ask her, perhaps Zahkura knows of a deeper area of the river_, she thought longingly.

Zahkura led the group to a somewhat more ornate hut at one end of a central open area in the middle of the village. Six mats were placed on the ground and the villagers cautiously moved to disarm the party of their weapons, to which they nervously agreed. Vargas almost refused to surrender his swords. He was a Sol'velar warrior, his blades were almost a living extension of himself. He hesitated briefly, but finally surrendered his weapons. Taking a deep breath, he decided to put his faith in these strange people and hope it wasn't some sort of trick. 

Though Stormbringer noted the reluctance of some of the others to relinquish their weapons, he did so without hesitation, and watched with amusement as the tribe members staggered under the weight of them. Jazira had no reservations; she only carried a dagger at her waist, which the villagers ignored, and moved gratefully in the direction of the waiting mats. Lyra looked at the Mious with their baskets and panted. Obviously not considering her a threat, they shrugged their shoulders and moved on, leaving Lyra fully armed. She felt ashamed at this and was glad her teachers weren't here to witness this moment. 

When the baskets came to Hawk, he gave up his weapons with some difficulty, not because he feared for his safety, but because he valued them greatly. No, if the natives wished them harm, he was confident they'd have made their intentions clear long before. Elin was glad to be rid of some of the weight, and hoped they would be able to rest more soon. The swamp of his home was much cooler and darker place, and The Aquazure always caught a good breeze. They then knelt on the mats as a middle-aged member of the tribe (later they learned was named Malama) emerged from the hut and spoke briefly before descending the steps to stand near the group.

A much older man, wearing an elaborate, perhaps more ceremonial garb, emerged from the hut and spoke to the villagers assembled around the party for several minutes. A small drake was perched on his shoulder, and seemed as interested in the party as the villagers. Afterwards, he picked up a box with carvings on it, opened it, and picked up a blue stone wrapped in cloth: the Starfall Marked recognized the stone as a Quiezat’el (pronounced “kay-zat-elle”), a kind of rock that fell to the world with the Starfall Dragons three hundred and sixty years earlier that the priests of the faith use to find and identify the mysterious marks. The man, evidently the leader of the village, climbed down the steps to the party and used the small blue stone to find and confirm each was marked: upon doing so, he called out “Fulahan!” (indicating that they were blessed with a mark), to which the villagers cheered “Hwotah!”

Vargas recognized the blue stone immediately, it was the same type of device that Dracos Kettius had used to identify both he and his sister's starfall marks back on Toragon. Eager to get this over with, Vargas presented his right shoulder to man so that it shone a bright gray in the stones light.

Stormbringer noted with interest the location of each of the other's mark. He rather envied Hawk for the placement of the mark on his right hand, easy to be re-infused by Luna, while being grateful that it did not mar his facial features as it did some others.

When Jazira was approached, she held out her left hand, looking forward to seeing the proof of her Mark once again. With the proximity of the Quiezat'el, a bright blue glow emanated from the back of her left hand, and she looked at the Mark with an awe that had yet to dissipate, despite the familiarity of it from the past six months.

_Why I was so honored, I do not know, but I will work as hard as necessary to learn all I can here. I will bring only honor to my family, my clan, Rolan, and to Suel_. As if affirming a vow, her face settled into a look of determination, and she nodded as the man moved away from her and on to Lyra.

Lyra grinned at the assembled mass as she pointed to her cheek and shouted out, far too loudly "FULAHAN!" as she pointed to her left cheek. The stone caused her cheek to emit a brilliant white light. With as much enthusiasm as the Mious, she shouted out "Hwotah!" right along with them and continued this with each subsequent Blessed One.

With the ceremony completed, the drake flew off to the north, in the direction of the large mountain. The group speculated that it was flying off to inform the Oracle of their arrival as they were brought to the largest hut in the village, located on the opposite side of the central clearing. Each villager approached with a plate or basket of food, or a container of water: soon the hut was filled with provisions ranging from native fruits to freshly cooked wild boar. The procession took the better part of an hour, concluding with the village leader (whom the party learned was named Akolo) conveying that they could rest until dusk. He did not speak Tradespeak and the party could not talk directly to him or the other villagers any more effectively than with Zahkura.

The group rested and waited through the afternoon. Concerned about Lyra's condition, Jazira made sure the Halfling had plenty of water and food. Lyra was proving to be an amusing companion due to her sheer enthusiasm, and Jazira felt some guilt at having ignored her wounds earlier. We must look after each other if we are to succeed here, she reminded herself. When she was sure Lyra was content, she sat down and refreshed herself with the food and drink provided. Despite her own considerable hunger, her manners were more suited for an elegant dinner party than her current rough surroundings.

Once Lyra had rested sufficiently, she scurried out of the hut and looked for Zahkura. She found the Mious woman standing with others at the end of the village. Never one to allow language to serve as a barrier when she wanted to communicate, Lyra attempted to ask Zahkura why the Burowao had attacked. She wasn't able to get an answer to her question, but she did learn the Mious symbol for Burowao (a gesture across the face, following the path of the Burowao's black mark) - and also that the Mious did not speak of the Burowao. Or, at least that is what the combination of Zahkura's rambling sentences and gestures seemed to try to mean. Lyra wandered back to the hut thinking that _was really intelligent of me to not find someone on the island who spoke Mious. Then again, who, exactly, would that person be? We aren't exactly crawling with Blessed Ones..._

Elin watched as Lyra tried to speak with Zahkura and the villagers. He knew he could try to learn the language as well, but he had spent many of the past few years cramming in the six he already knew. It was useful to a skiffer crew to know as many languages as possible. To speak and write in another language, meant it was not a barrier to any trade that might go on. Although, he still wondered why he knew Gnomish, other than to read the directions provided with some of their infernal contraptions.

Hungry, Stormbringer ate of the food eagerly, especially the wild boar meats as the others talked. He only offered a few comments or answered questions when asked. He did not know much more of what to expect than they, and though the language the natives spoke was utterly foreign, at least they didn't seem to mean them any harm. He had been able to establish some common references, particularly in regards to Solaris and Luna's passage in the sky. He agreed with Hawk that they were in this together, and he said he would do what he could to aid the group. The human, Vargas, still made him a little uneasy and the elf, Jazira was much more quiet and reserved than those he had known in the past, but as a group they seemed to be trustworthy enough.

Curiosity prompted Jazira to comment on Hawk's and Varga's familiarity with each other. "How did the two of you meet, if you do not mind the question?" She looked inquiringly at the two men.

"We were both enslaved and forced to fight each other in an arena," Vargas responded. "I commented on what a bad situation this was, and to my surprise, Hawk agreed. I quickly formulated a plan, and asked Hawk if he could throw me far enough to reach the ledge of the arena. He managed to do so, but before I could find some rope or anything else to aid him in his escape, I was struck by a crossbow bolt and faced with several guards all with still loaded crossbows. Although it pained me to flee, I saw no honor in dying when I could escape and hopefully one day return to repay Hawk for his assistance." 

As the discussion continued, it became clear Vargas had assumed Hawk was a slave at the time, which Hawk denied, saying, "Was earning passage on ship, had to fight. Did pretty well, too, with silly ropes and sticks, until da night at da Boss' house, where we had real weapons. Heh, after Vargas went over wall, Boss was pretty ******. Had to leave town before trouble started." All told, Hawk decided, the whole adventure made a pretty good story. At that point, Hawk began to speak of his homeland, and of his beliefs about Tsaruk, the saviour-god of the Tsarukai. A comment from Hawk reminded Jazira of the information she had learned while in Allul. She recounted the description of the corpse of the monstrous creature that had been found by a trading vessel of Suel. "There were creatures attempting to feed on it," she said, "but they were acting rather dazed, and apparently just swam off."

Hawk launched into a description of his peoples' belief that the demons were never destroyed, that they were forced under the Ocean, but they allied with the monstrous sea-serpents of the Abyss (the Deep Ocean) to crack the Wall that kept them from the world. Tsaruk and his Minions fight a continuous battle, he said, to keep the demons at bay and so protect the world. Jazira mentioned having heard of the remains of a massive, strange creature in the sea while on her trip to the island and wondered if the monstrous creature well have been one of the sea-serpents or demons.

Lyra was fascinated by Hawk's description of the beliefs of the people from his homeland. She pulled out a well-made brown leather notebook and began scribbling in it frantically. Every now and then she would attempt to sound out a place name or interrupt Hawk to probe deeper.

Vargas couldn't help but smile at the halfling. In many ways she reminded him of his sister, even their names were similar: Lyla, Lyra. The biggest differences between the two were that Lyla was quite a bit taller, but only a little less talkative than Lyra.

The conversation then turned to skills when Hawk asked "Are any of you skilled with working the elements?" Around the hut, each of the Blessed Ones indicated that, aside from their Marks, they were not casters and shared their experiences with those elementalists they did know. When it came Lyra's turn to respond, her excitement bubbled over and all she could do was giggle. The others pressed to understand the meaning of her laughter.

"I can work Umbra," she smiled. "butonlyalittle," she mumbled quickly.


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