Year Of Steel: The Summary List

[Lirandel]

Summary List for the ongoing RP campaign.

Lirandel (Gates of Terror)
Lomea (Dreams)
Sayvara (From The Lowest Dirthole To The Highest Peak)
Volgh (Sorrow)
Adjanah (A Turn For the Worse)
Brannigan
Evelene
Cromes
Anaya
Rojan
Marcvs
Maghiras

[Volgh]

The Captain had required everyone’s presence at the Temple of the Sovereign Host, in the Deneith district of the jewel of Xen’Drik, Stormreach, however this order surprised Volgh, since he –above everyone else- knew all too well that their Carptain did not rely on divine guidance for the missions and choices taken for the Company. He also knew that defying the captain’s orders could lead to unwanted eruptions of anger and unending strings of loud and fat talking. As long as it could be avoided, Volgh was satisfied. He did not feel like apologizing or excusing himself for his deeds each and every time or getting punched in the nose for not having behaved accordingly. However, he knew that if something happened he would be able to gain control over Lirandel, manipulate him in a way, not with evil intentions of course; he knew about his captain. He had lingered into his memories for several seconds and knew what the old elf had been through in his long and complicated life.

Before leaving the tower, Volgh checked he had the plans regarding the Wards their Captain had required to be set around and inside the complex and as the only arcane magic wielder, Volgh had no choice but to take up the task. It only took a “bumpy ride” through a dwarf’s manufacturing complex, where the slightly insane individual known as Haywire shared the secrets regarding Magical Mouths and passwords with him, in return for a prosperous reading. The dwarf was easy to be deceived, and Volgh was able to obtain information he lacked. Ironic was it that he was the only mage active in the Tower, and still considered a clerk and apprentice in the arcane arts. But he felt it coming! He had gained knowledge.

Volgh stepped into the main hall of the Temple, several figures standing into the poorly illuminated chamber, Lomea and Lirandel among them, while their allies, those known as “Legends” were assembled as well. Volgh smirked as the corner of his eye caught the silhouette of the human known as Cerodin, a “holy knight” of the Silver Flame. He knew few about that religion and he was certain that they were not worse than the Cult of the Dark Six or the Blood of Vol, but at least those did not claim to wish to cure the world!

Volgh saluted and blinked, eyeing Lirandel with curiosity. What could their Captain wish in this place? The answers came soon. It appeared that a friend of Lirandel’s under the name of Eraleas, Volgh barely knew, was turning into a threat in their campaign to defeat the Black Abbot and his “Unknown Master”. Volgh was wondering…. He had never seen Lirandel be real close friends with the cleric but it appeared that not only himself, but Lomea, Sayvara, Adjanah, Willau and Evelene were greatly concerned about that elf’s behavior.

The Captain mentioned the possibility for Eraleas to have become a spy for the enemy, something which could utterly destroy their plans. Why and how could that have happened, Volgh did not know the answers, and Lirandel remained cryptic as he had always been. A Dragonshard was mentioned, a Dragonshard that took control over the elven cleric which seemed odd to Volgh, since he knew all too well Lomea’s mental resistances. Whatever was going on, he knew powerful magic was involved.

Volgh sighed as he heard the two choices their Captain presented. Either focusing on thwarting the rest of the “Unknown Master’s” lieutenants, or finding a way to restore Eraleas to what he used to be. It appeared that everyone chose to do both, which was quite expected as Lirandel believed that Eraleas was the key to win this War. Soon after, he mentioned that it is possible for Eraleas to be cured with the aid of a powerful Relic, an item blessed by the gods of the Sovereign Host, a blade called Tesyus. It appeared that the blade had been shattered into three pieces, one being kept at the temple while the other two lost.

According to Lirandel, a part of the blade was in the possession of powerful ogre mages on the Restless Isles, revered as a part of an ancient prophecy of their own. Whatever the case, that piece had to be taken back by either force or negotiation. Lirandel himself, his wife Sayvara, Lomea, the sturdy dwarven fighter Brannigan, and the sorcerer Maghiras. Bidding them farewell and good luck, Volgh awaited his own assignment.

The other piece was rumored to be lingering in a temple dedicated to the fallen elven warriors of the past, now taken over and desecrated by the Cult of Madness. Volgh shuddered as the Cult’s name was mentioned, his own tribe having defied the will of the nobler Vulkoor in favor of the might of the creatures of Madness, the Daelkyr. As expected, he, along with his sister Adjanah, lady Willau and lady Evelene, as well as the tower human warrior, Marcvs and the “Flamer” Cerodin, were assigned to investigate the rumors.

Little did he know that bards such as the astonishing by all standards, lady Evelene were able to pick such stray knowledge as to have the contacts for every and each need that might occur. Soon, they had come in touch with a representative of the ancient druidic sect known as the Gatekeepers, responsible for the thwart of the Cult of Madness on the plane of Eberron and the halting of the Xorian Invasion. The hobgoblin agreed to arrange a trip towards the aforementioned temple.

The caravan took several hours to reach its destination, crossing the misty vales during the dusk. Everyone was silent in the caravan, some scanning the sumptuous surroundings for possible drow ambushes, while others minded their flasks, parchments or apples. Little did they know that it would not be drow that would ambush them, but the reanimated skeletal remains of mages, archers and warriors of the long-forgotten past. They had no choice but to stand their ground and fight, however, the caravan could not go further on, having been severely damaged by the encounter. They would have to walk towards what appeared a massive building, shrouded in the darkness of the night and the alien echoes of the mystifying sounds within.

The “temple” or tomb they were asked to investigate little resembled to its original description, the plane of Xoriat already having taken over the place, colors of insanity having tainted the place with crimson shades and eerie illumination. Volgh blinked as Xoriat’s “vegetation” had already made its appearance in the unhallowed halls, those “teeth” that had sprouted, on all surfaces marking the Xorian influence over the place.

It wasn’t long before they came up against the mad eyes of those that had committed those acts, the drow that fell under the ranks of the Cult. However, the drow were not the greatest of threats... People nowadays call them “blobs” but he knew better, The Spheres of Entropy, filled with the insanity of Xoriat, spawned by the gates that several sorcerer, wizards and clerics of the Cult of Madness had opened towards the Plane they so much worshipped, were roaming through the halls and were able to not simply damage someone upon their touch, but utterly kill him as well! However, Volgh knew that if there was a way to open those gates, there was also a way to shut them, and denying entrance to the spawn of Xoriat.

Runes… Runes that were easily figured out by himself, lady Willau and the minstrel Evelene, were able to shut the gates and with each gate shutting it appeared as if the influence over this place started weakening, as if an invisible guardian was losing its defenses little by little.

Volgh took the time to keep notes of the teeth, of the runes, of the gates. Perhaps this knowledge could prove useful no only against the foes they were fighting against, but also the ward their captain had asked him to set up. After all he had always heard that great insight lingers in lunacy.

Another rune was used and another gate was shut. The presence floating within the halls struggled to maintain its power and in a final attempt attacked the human, “Flamer” Cerodin. The man, held his throat, as his face turned blue. Soon he was lifted in the air by some unknown force with tremendous strength, attempting to end him for daring to limit it in its own home. Thankfully, the other man, Marcvs was able to somehow free the knight. Volgh blinked. What had just happened? Was it an illusion, or had madness taken over even the very air of that monument?

And they pressed on, undead skeletons halting their path, as well as drow and scrorrows, which appeared to have mastered the very essence of insanity. But as Volgh knew, with each gate shutting, the power of the Cult was diminishing.

Several hours already had passed and they had no luck in finding the hilt that belonged to the blade known as Tesyus yet… And only one room was left and with it, their last chance to obtain the item they were ordered to recover.

Into that cradle of sorts, the legions of Xoriat had gathered their last of reinforcements, and best of individuals who despite their efforts, could not halt the fellowship’s advancement. With one final roar, the Tharaak Hound worshipped as a representative of its plane, fell on the floor, bloody and scarred and there, on a podium lied the tome known as the Xorian Cipher… Along with something else.

The “Guardian” of the Runes appeared to have been thwarted with the Hound dying, but another entity was obviously still lingering in that final room, focusing on each and one of them, examining them closely. If it was someone that would know where the hilt was that would be the one, Volgh thought and without much contemplation Volgh flipped open the Xorian Cipher, seeking words of madness to communicate with the Entity.

“We require the hilt of Tesyus” Volgh clearly stated. At the sound of the language spoken by the lips of Volgh, the entity shifted its attention towards the mage, drawing closer and closer with each second until it finally rushed into the drow.

Volgh fell on his back, feeling his skin slightly itch as the being came into contact with him. He blinked… However he felt no hostility from it, rather familiarity. He felt too big for his own shape, somehow misplaced and unfitting. Had the being escaped through him? Had the being found a new place within him? Whatever had happened, Volgh felt “enlightened” a sublime euphoria taking him over and he knew….

There under the stone steps near the final gate, the hilt was lingering, unharmed and untouched by this place’s corruption. Everyone eyed the wizard surprised, but Volgh did not care. The mission was a success, and something absolutely amazing was happening to him. He beamed! They made it through the nightmarish hallways and survived to combat the hordes of madness.

Soon, the caravan, now repaired departed for the city of Stormreach under the cover of the night, the hilt of Tesyus in the possession of the Company. Volgh only hoped the other party had been as successful as they were…

[Adjanah]

Chapter 5: A Turn for the Worse
Dramatis Personae: Sayvara, Chromes, Volgh, Maghiras, Evelyne, Lomea, Marcvs, Brannigan, Adjanah

”The Captain of the Black Thorn, Lirandel Quil Valari, my father, is dead.”
The hardest words Adjanah had ever had to say spilled from her lips mechanically.

A hushed silence broke over the assembly as she, Sayvara and Lomea told the story of how some unknown force had penetrated the walls and wards of Blackthorn Tower in the night, and brutally slain the captain. A vile darkness had caught Adjanah, Sayvara and Lomea in the captain’s quarters, where they found his mangled body in a spreading pool of his own blood. As the cackling entity finally left them, a series of desperate attempts to revive the captain revealed that nothing in their power would help...his very soul torn from him, as the mocking letter at his side described. A character calling himself no more than “O” told of his boldest experiment yet, a summoning spell from Dolurhh, the plane of Death, called upon to steal the life of Lirandel, and ending the threat that the Thorns and their allies posed to whatever dark schemes O and his adjudant, the Black Abbot, were concocting.

Grief, thick and heavy as the beard of Brannigan, settled over the assembly. Mangled cries of “NO!” and “WHY?” occasionally broke the sobs, but no matter the question asked, no answer was forthcoming. Nothing apart from the devastating fact that the captain was indeed dead, his body cold and pale, lying there on the table set up in the middle of the room.

It was agreed with some hesitation that Volgh should look inside the head of the captain, and attempt to revive his last moments. A technique of Volgh’s would allow the vision to become projected, making the assembly feel as if they had been there at that very moment. With some trepidation, the young drow removed his glove and placed his hand on the cold forehead of the captain.

What happened next almost defied common words. As the vision spilled from Volgh to engulf the party, the walls of the room fell away, twisted in on themselves and reformed grotesquely, placing them all in the captain’s chamber, the night before, the captain pacing the room. As in a dream, the party found themselves in Lirandel’s head...no they WERE Lirandel, seeing the world through his eyes. The room had gone dark around him and he was lying on the floor, something tearing at him, sending bright lances of pain through his very being. A cackling monstrosity, one with the darkness around him, tore into him and tore out his soul, devouring it. And then he fell...

He fell, backwards, out of his own head, the darkness seen through his eyes as nothing compared to that infinite darkness that now surrounded him. With no sense of up or down, the feeling of falling increased, growing from the mere pull of gravity, to a pull, incessantly pulling him down, down, further down into an evermore oppresive darkness. As it swirled around him, enclosing him tighter in its’ infinity, the part of his mind that was Volgh felt the fear of the others and moved to stop the descent...with the result that the party left Lirandel’s head, the captain continuing his drop as a speck of light beneath them, and fell away. A burst of effort, and they raced after him, their speed seeming limitless, yet not enough. The presence of the darkness became tangible as they realised that it was observing them, seeing them for the intruders they were, and not just a single lost soul. A maw of seemingly limitless proportions opened beneath them, invisble but for a dull, vibrating thrum that spilled over them with such force, such resonance, that their ear-drums ruptured. It closed around the captain, stealing him away, and then turned its’ attention to the spectral form of the party, a single point of shimmering, glistening energy caught in the void. As it opened to swallow them as well, they mustered their strength and raced into the gaping maw, after the captain, searching for that single pin-prick of light that was his trapped soul.

As the speed increased again and they raced into the maw, the darkness shifted around them, becoming a living entity that began to pull them apart, ever so slowly. Still more speed, and the pin-prick of the captain became visible, slowly growing bigger as they neared him. Closer, closer, until his light spilled off their shimmering form and Volgh extended a hand to catch him, bring him back, save him. Yet as they touched him, they tumbled out on the floor, back in the tower, retching and sick, dizzy with disorientation and the notion of having gazed into infinity. And Lirandel lost, somewhere, in that spiralling darkness.

As the motion sickness subsided, pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place even as other pieces became apparent. Branded on Lirandel’s arm was the mark of the Dark Six, similar in shape to that on Lomea’s arm. Was what they had seen truly a gaze into the nightmare realm of Dolurrh, or had they looked on the face of a god, that of the Devourer itself? And did this in any case mean that the captain was still alive, in some form, somewhere?

Common for all these latest happenings was the ever-persistent element of the darkness though, and as such they needed more information. And who more knowledgable on the topic of darkness, than that of the disciples of darkness themselves, otherwise known as the Shadow Council. The decicated husk of the Venerable had told them as much weeks ago. “Follow the path of Swiftmare. Follow the Shadow Council.” It seemed that the aid of the Shadow Council was needed in order to get to O and the Abbot, either given willingly or unwillingly, and almost certainly at a high price no matter how a deal was struck.

Only one destination would suffice.

The great library of Sorrowdusk Isle.