Seeds of Chaos

Paths and Ways
Path and Ways

“I shall take the child where she belongs”, Shava says to the group. “My belief is that she will be safer amongst her own kind and while I am there, I will see if the Elves or Eladrin have any information on the stone that was flung from the heavens. I will see you in the days ahead. I will travel fast.” Shava taking his leave with a sketch of the shard, a potion of healing and some gold from the party, strides into the Elfwood with the female elf not far behind. She has since healed from her physical wounds but still with thoughts of the foul druid lingering in her mind….

The Elfwoods do provide comfort to most, especially the Elves. Shava was not to have any rest the first darkening hours. For he saw a great moon, strewn with tendrils with eyes looking down upon his soul… Nightmare…. Surely not in the protection of this ancient place..

After a few days travel the welcome site of a old watchtower spreads its branches in warmth. An Eladrin Ranger Captain granted Shava an audience where a female Deva was in the room with. Was brought up to speed about the close trading town of Arandale and the happenings of this elven child. Tasked now with an exchange of infomation that his father has been captured by gnolls 2 nights back, Shava was also told that the gnolls took others and fought like they had a purpose along the North Road. The Ranger Captain could not spare any men. This is due to “dark” things happening that he would not discuss with them.

“Glad to see you again, Shava” said the Deva.

“Have we met?” asks Shava very perplexed..

“I remember you. Dont you remember me? I am Kayah.” The Deva seemingly friendly with the Elves and Eladrin, walked with Shava to the child’s family area talking with them both about past exploits. Kayah also told them that she is a seer and has met them before, “or maybe watched them from afar…cant remember which. Regardless, I am here to help. The Ranger Captain was telling me also about the gnolls. Horrible creatures..”

After reuiniting the child with her family and being welcomed home, Shava and Kayah asked the stablemaster precise directions where the ambush happened. Not wanting to let any light pass, they headed out traveling lightly.

At dusk, Shava and Kayah found the area. Crockery was broken, fires long out marked the area. Both scoured the area when the woods opened up pointing them in, what they think is the direction that the gnolls headed.

Shava told Kayah, “If the Elfwood wants us to go that way, we travel there.”

Lighting a torch, “Lets go.” Kayah relpied.

Staying just out of the torchlight, Shava moved ahead. Both of the adventures kept hearing…laughing?? twigs snapping?? leaves rustling?? Maybe the woods were playing tricks on us, they thought. If things can affect a druid, maybe they can affect the woods..

Kayah and Shava stopped upon a hillock, looking down, noticing that the land has been altered. Large timbers set up agains the side of the hill. Two gnolls, large, standing gaurd at what appears to be the entrance to a mine…

Settling for going around the side and not taking on the whole tribe at once, Kayah and Shava headed down finding a grate. Using a rope and tree to pull it off, they crawled through ending in a food storage area. Peering through the key hole, a gnoll was standing gaurd. Kayah kicking the door in while Shava slams his shoulder into the threashold, hits the gnoll and it goes screaming in common down the hall “we are under attack!”

Attempting to follow the gnoll, they came across a few locked doors. After unlocking one, peering down the hall, a coulple of hyneas and gnolls were waiting. Unseen, snuck back down the hall unaware. Shava and Kayah relocked the door. Headed down the other hallway and had no choice but to break down the door. In this room, an Eladrin on a rack, obviously tortured to death, an Elf dead in a cell, two other Elves secured to the wall and “Father!!!” Shava screams..

After a moment, they both hear the laughing of what was in the woods coming closer to the doors. Kayah, quick witted sealed the chamber as Shava released his father. The doors burst open and the gnolls attacked with their dogs… Kayah, a mighty opponet, took the gnolls and the dogs on head to head. Shava, running around unlocking the cages, turns to see that his new (?) found ally without a scratch. The gnolls break around Kayah and attack Shava, defending himself takes one out. Kayah, the rest of them.

While attempting to free an Elf, acid releases upon the wrists where the binders are located searing his flesh. Picking up some swords to give to the Elves, Shava returns to his father, Alaran. “Drink this” putting a potion to his lips. Immediatly, the wrist marks and some of his wounds dissapear.

An Elf tells both Shava and Kayah, “watch out for the shadows.”

Kayah, seeming wise beyond her youthful appearance, hearing more noise, “we must leave now, while we can.”

Trailing back to the hole, Kayah hears the sounds of dogs and gnolls. “They have found how we got in… No way but the front now.”

Unlocking the door again, peering through, Shava motioning for all to follow, steps first into the main chamber. His father catching an arrow through the shoulder. The Elves, not as fortunate catching them both in their thoats dropping them immediatly.

Stepping from the darkend hallway, four drow soldiers with bows and wicked dripping knives. A fifth one with a nicely made hat with a large feather speaks, “See, give proper bait to get your prey”, looking around the room at his company. “You will now give me the shard.”

Making certain that Alaran is not dead, Shava sets him down on the floor, stands up. “I do not have it. I dont think that I would give it to you even if I did.”

“One way or the other”, the hatted drow says, “We will get it.” The drow advanced to attack Shava and Kayah.

Kayah, proving that she is not to be triffled with, slaughters the drow with the hat first and systematically whittles the others down. One by one. Shava, struggling with the one drow that put an arrow through Alaran, struggles. The adversary, seeing his cohorts being killed by Kayah, surrenders to Shava.

“I will tell you what you want!”, dropping his sword, “I will tell you our employer if you let me live!”

“We have no room for cowards!!”, the other drow yells as he hurtles a poisoned knive at his surrendered comrade hitting him right through the neck. Kayah, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in his defense, takes him down.

After searching really fast around and making sure that the drow were dead, Shava holding Alaran and Kayah head out. They do notice a strange mark on the drow that was captain as Kayah takes his hat and puts it on. “We must ask my companion Malaggar when next I see him”, states Shava.

Exiting the mine, all three were taken back as a strange figure comes into view. With a wave of his arm, all were immobilized. A male, pale skin, red eyes, Eladrin, are those fangs?? “I will have the gem” he says in a cool voice.

Shava, not being able to move, mumbles, “Ive told your companions, I dont have the gem!”

Not satisified, another wave of his hand and Kayah’s lives, Alaran’s life and Shava’s life flashs……….

“You dont have the gem…” He dissapears in a poof of dark energy.

The Elfwood opened up for the crew as they traveled back to watchtower. The Ranger Captain welcomed them back. Taking care of some of the gnolls, Shava was given a light suit of armor that the watch did not need at this time. The Captain told Shava and Kayah that they needed to go to the capital to find anything out about the sketch of the shard. Alaran, reunited with the Elves of his tribe will have his wounds taken care of.

The Elven court does not allow spur of the moment meetings. Somehow, Shava and Kayah were allowed to see them briefly. As they enter, The Autumn King has a look on his face of familiarity. Kayah and Shava tell the court of what has transpired and show the sketch of the shard.

“Find the twins and destroy them” are the words the Archmage tell Shava and Kayah. “Find those who have a link to the stars.”

The court silences and The Summer Queen seemingly wakes from meditation and walks up to Shava and Kayah whispering to them, “Do not trust the tiefling.” Walks back to her throne and sits falling back into her meditative state.

Shava and Kayah were both given a leather “badge” charging them with finding these evils. The badges offer recognition anywhere in the Fey Court.

As Shava has his back turned leaving the court, Kayah spies a mouthing of “My son” coming from The Autumn King…

103 - Ports, Paths, and Profits


When we last left our heroes, they were in the city of Arandale. They slept after the people recovered, and helped the injured before departing the city via a riverboat. Where were they headed, you ask? Why, to a small port city near the great mountainous barrier that separates the lands of the tieflings from the lands of the elves, humans, and other races. There were some preparations that were at hand, however.

Shava, convinced that the Eladrin had the answers that the party sought, offered to go deeper into the Elfwood to seek the answers from his kin or from the elusive Eladrin of the Feywild.After exchanging farewells and supplies, Shava left the company of his companions through two struggles now, set about on his quest to discover the answers that the group needed.

Tom Oakenshaft, in need of release from his duties, retried from the local sheriff’s office and received a token of service from his master, the sheriff, himself. While the parting was, perhaps, a little sad — Tom did serve as a deputy for a good number of years after all — it was what Tom felt that he needed to do. The quest, after all, was critical.

Tom, wise to the wiles of the gem, also had the blacksmith forge a special box for carrying the gem and its new blessed salt container. The box was sealed tightly with bands of metal and a small locking latch. It also conveniently hung from the belt with ease.

And so the adventurers set off to Belmarsh from Arandale via the river Aran. There was enough coin between them to pay for passage and rooms on a river boat — a faster choice for traveling to Belmarsh.

While this might seem like a fine respite for you and me, it was not for the adventurers. As they slept, they suffered from horrible nightmares of things saner and mightier men than you and I have seen and gone mad over. Massive tentacled gods, shadows of death and despair, and horrible memories from lives lived. The nights were sleepless for some of them until a spell to protect them from the probes of the crystal was found. For four days they were tormented, and suffered from a lack of sleep — and on the last day, they enjoyed something akin to a peaceful sleep.

Needless to say, the party was relieved to arrive in Belmarsh after such a long, trying ordeal. The party all disembarked, and none was more eager after being cooped up on a boat, than Idrin.

As the party meandered through the marketplace, Akta’s keep perception picked out someone they were to meet with to continue guiding them towards the Tiefling city in the desert. After a short conversation in which both authenticated themselves, Akta returned to the party and they headed for the nearest inn for a meal and a good-night’s rest. The next morning, Akta and the rest of the party met up with the secretive Tiefling contact and entered the underground city of Maelbrathir.

The sprawling underground metropolis of Maelbrathir was a most wretched hive of scum and villainy — and of opportunity if you were willing to sink so far as to slit someone’s throat. With buildings haphazardly built into the sides of the walls and streets lined in shadow, Maelbrathir was the perfect place to disappear — of your own will or otherwise.

If there was one thing Maelbrathir was known for, it was its marketplace. In the Grand Market of Maelbrathir a person could find anything they were looking for: slaves, concubines, love, assassins, exotic and forbidden materials were all there for the right price.

The heroes, however, were not interested in the Market as much more than a conduit to get past the barrier above.

As the heroes continued through the market, they were eventually accosted by a strange raven-like humanoid interested in the small iron strongbox hanging from Tom’s belt. While the party and the raven-like continued to haggle — mostly, the party just continued to refuse — Tom was being relieved of the strongbox by a small Drow child.

102 - Back to Arandale

Greetings, patrons, and welcome to The Mended Yoke, where the ale is chilled, the bar maidens friendly, and the Spicy Cornbread Mash will cater to the most distinguished traveler’s palate. Don’t forget to sample some of their Cat’s Pumpkin Cider if you are in the mood for a slightly honey-sweetened beverage with a hint of a spiced bite. I recommend it with the rhubarb pie.

For those of you who were here yesterday, I bid you welcome again! I hope that you can stay with us for a few more nights as I continue to weave the story of The Heroes of Arandale. So, order a bowl of Autumn’s Crisp Mutton Stew and an ale, wine, or mead, and join me as I tell a tale of heroes from this very city whose actions and renown — or infamy — spread well past this little trading town.

When we last left our heroes, the Rogue Prince Shava had just disabled the druid, Nadir. As he lay on the ground, stunned, the heroes beheld a brilliant, gently glowing pool of water amidst the ancient Circle of Stones far to the north and east of this town in the the Elfwood.

And then, our of nowhere, a small hawk dropped a tiny object in front of Akta, the Warlock. Upon reaching down to touch it, she mysteriously disappeared before her companion’s eyes! Bewildered, the heroes thought the incident strange, but perhaps her method of answering a summons.

As the remaining heroes discovered, the pool was ancient; its gentle bubbling, though strange at first, was a boon from the ancient spirits of the world to those pure of spirit and noble of heart. As the heroes studied it, they thought that perhaps Nadir might benefit from the healing waters of the pool.

They were wrong.

As Nadir was gently dipped into the pool he jerked, thrashed and spat blood as the water sizzled around him. The bark that was entwined with his skin began to flake off. The water wasn’t healing this once pure druid, but punishing him for his corrupt actions against the spirits! Quickly, the heroes gathered him up and pulled him out of the pool. He was nearly dead at the hands of the angry earth. This would not be the last time the Land tried to punish him for his crimes.

There was also the matter of the strange crystal that the druid had in his possession. The amethyst crystal was half the length and width of a halfling’s hand and gently glowed with a strange light. Sheriff Tom, with the help of his companions, managed to gather the strange crystal into a small beltpouch for safekeeping. The crystal was something that would hopefully shed some answers on why Nadir turned.

With the day behind them, with the druid bound and secured, and with night fast approaching, the heroes made camp near the gentle glow of the bubbling pool. While sleep was peaceful for many that night, the heroes had no real rest.

During the middle of the night, the spirits of the Land decided that the druid, while once good, deserved to be punished for his crimes against the spirits. As they took their shifts, Idrin, and then Tom, noticed that the druid seemed to be sliding across the ground towards the pool. During Idrin’s watch, he was able to simply return the druid to his previous resting place. During Tom’s watch, however, was when the difficulties started.

After waking his friends out of a sense of alarm, Tom and the rest of the party tried their hardest to shop the druid’s descent into the pool; while the heroes knew they would be unharmed, they knew the pool had no such effect on the druid. They tugged and fought with the spirits made real as vines and plant growth, but ultimately the druid fell with a great splash into the pool along with Idrin. As Idrin rose to the surface, the druid, already weak and injured, was shoved towards Death’s door.

It was an uneasy sleep that met the heroes after they closed their eyes.

In the morning as they prepared to leave, Tom discovered that in their struggle, the crystal had managed to worm its way out of the pouches he’d placed it in. Perplexed, but not unwise, Tom once again bound the crystal tightly within the remains of the pouches and in several thongs of leather, convinced that this seemingly malevolent crystal would do nothing but cause trouble from he and his companions.

And he was right, too.

The heroes return to the Crone’s hut was uneventful; the elves had vacated their camp with their dead; the strange maze of trees no longer seemed present; the river they’d struggled against had disappeared without a trace. By the time the afternoon had rolled about, the heroes and one scarred and mutilated corpse arrived at the outskirts of Arandale, and the old Crone’s cottage. The heroes and the Crone spoke of Nadir and the little girl whom the Crone had given refuge and care to briefly.

Then, there was the crystal.

The Crone, alarmed, understood the crystal before it was so much as placed on the table. After release, it circled around the table of its own volition until the Crone, at some injury to herself, managed to wrestle the thing into a Medicine Jar — an old device of folk magic filled with salt from the shores of seldom-disturbed beaches. While the jar glowed, the Crone explained the dangers and perils of the gem and its temptations.

“You must take it forth from this place,” the Crone implored, “and ensure its destruction once and for all lest the world become a visage of shadow and flame.” Heroes being heroes, gladly accepted their quest to destroy such a foul artifact.

With the druid’s toll into the spirit world paid, thanks to Idrin, with the little girl visited and comforted, thanks to Shava, and with the gen safe and sound, thanks to Tom, and with the shadows looking the other way as the heroes passed, thanks to Malagar, the heroes said their goodbyes and headed back into Arandale to conduct their business.
Tom, ever the dutiful sheriff-in-training-but-effectively-sheriff, returned to his fellows in the watch to chew the fat and learn about any new goings-on in town. His Fellows-In-Arms clued him in to some unusual behavior of the local hounds and some tremblings of the earth but noted that everything else was otherwise undisturbed.

Shava, an enterprising Man of the Road, proceeded to the market to obtain supplies and various sundries for a potential trip ahead — and he was quite successful in his acquisitions.

Malagar headed for The Tempered Blade, a fine inn and establishment if I do say so myself, and was fortunate enough to find out that the party’s lodgings were paid for, courtesy of the townspeople.

Idrin proceeded to the local blacksmith’s shop with the elven chest in tow. WIth the help of the artisan’s expertise and a set of skeleton keys, the smith revealed a lovely war pick which Idrin, with the party’s consent, took as his own.

Akta was still nowhere to be found, though the group figured that as a powerful warlock she had to have left of her own volition.

After the party regrouped, they wandered back towards the Crone’s hut only to see that there were dogs staring at the house with some strange intent. The heroes managed to shoo them off without any conflict, but there was still something strange, the party felt it.

After a long day of preparation and return to the city, the heroes took respite in The Tempered Blade. After an evening of merriment, food, and drink, the heroes broke for the night to sleep until morning.

Unfortunately for them, there was no bright and early morning, for in the darkest hour of the night the smell of smoke woke the heroes! One by one, they woke to find their rooms filled with smoke. With stinging eyes and breaths choked by smoke, the heroes did what they could to escape the burning inn: they crashed through windows; they broke down doors; they jumped and tumbled, and sometimes simple fell to the safety of the cool ground below them. In all, the heroes managed to save the innkeeper and his wife, the little girl they rescued earlier, and a dwarven merchant before the building crumbled to the ground in a burning pile of rubble. And who, you might ask, started this fire? Who was responsible for this mayhem?

After the heroes gathered their wits, the reality of the situation dawned on them. The town was not what it was just a few hours before. A thick fog rolled into the city from the edge of town where the graveyard lay.

In the fog-choked streets were the bodies of men and women, unconscious or dead. Several other buildings were damaged. And as the heroes discovered, the Crone was missing! As the heroes sought out the source of the mysterious fog and wondered what was afoot,

Eventually the fog started to clear and revealed the now desecrated graveyard, the amethyst-colored crystal’s eerie light, the Crone, subdued and weak, and Nadir, risen from the dead.

Alarmed, the heroes sprang in to action. On realizing the townspeople weren’t dead, but simply possessed, the heroes battled with the commandeered bodies, but didn’t kill them. The Possessed, embued by the power of the crystal, battered the heroes until they suddenly dropped. After this discovery, the possesed, despite their supernatural resilience, were eventually subdued, but not before Nadir, with a horrible look in his eye, began to torment and drain the life force from the Crone. Spurred on, the heroes risked blade and arrow to approach the corrupt druid, Nadir.

With unerring precision, the heroes stabbed, cut, nicked, and impaled their way towards Nadir. Malagar, with precise action, whipped out a garrote wire and began to strangle the risen-again druid. Shava, ever the opportunistic tactician, and despite the druid’s most horrible powers and frightening tactics, drew his blade and with one fell swoop cut into Nadir’s half-rotted flesh,

The druid, injured beyond any hope of restoration, crumbled into a pile of acrid, corrupted ash as the crystal fell to the ground at the base of a crypt. The crone, weakened but safe, climbed down from the crypt with some help and the townspeople began to come to.

The heroes once again saved the town of Arandale from the druid Nadir once again — twice in two days! And the townspeople, after recovering from the shock of the destroyed inn and the damaged graveyard, provided lodging for the heroes. Morning was a few hours off yet and the heroes’ journey was still on.

But that is a tale for another time.

(( Shava and Malagar: I don’t actually recall what you guys did in town. I believe Malagar went to the Inn straight away and if I’m not mistaken, Shava went to the market or mayor’s office. Please correct me if I’m wrong and I’ll fix it. :) It’s what I get for not finishing up until much later. ))

101 - In the Beginning

Our tale brings us to this place, the quaint town of Arandale. While Arandale is usually a peaceful and prosperous hub of trade often filled with wonders, tastes and smells from all the major nations in the four cardinal directions, this is not one of those days. Today we find ourselves in the midst of a dilemma. Not but three nights before, a star descended from the heavens and crashed down into the heart of The Elfwood, home of druids and, obviously, the local elves. Towns being towns, the rumors started almost immediately: great monsters in the woods; a sign from the Gods and Spirits of certain doom; an omen of dreaded times; a call to arms against a foe soon to arrive!

Not but two days and two nights later, a summons came for our first hero of the story, a wizened Sheriff Oakenshaft of Arundale. Empowered by writ from the City Council and serving this town despite aching joints on rainy days, ol’ Thom Oakenshaft was tasked with plowing forth into the forests of the Elfwood and discovering what, if anything, had changed within the forest. After all, sometimes rumors are true!

So, The Sheriff searched the town and found four adventurous (or perhaps simply opportunistic) individuals hungering for a quest and an adventure: Akta, a Tiefling warlock of great power from the deserts to the east and south; Idrin, a young Shifter warden who grew up with nature as his playground, the spirits as his playmates, but conscious of civilization; Malagar, a Drow whose arts and specialties are as old as time, as dangerous as doubt, and as steady as the beat of a man’s heart; and Shava, an Elven prince of roads and tolls and master of his own fate.

And so with his posse behind him, Sheriff Oakenshaft ventured into the fringes of the Elfwood towards the homestead of an old friend or Arundale, a wizened crone of good nature and kind heart.

It wasn’t long after visiting the crone and just before preparing to enter the forest that a small Elven child ran from the forest. Bloodied and clothes in tatters, the child begged the heroes for help. “Please help us,” she cried. “Please save them,” she spoke before falling to the ground, exhausted and unconscious. The heroes, shocked, left the girl in the crone’s care as a foul wind blew towards them. Pregnant with dread, the leaf-filled wind blew over the heroes and draped the forest before them in silence.

Enter our villain, the once-great and kind druid Nadir. With yellowed, tired eyes and a foul stench upon him, he condemned the heroes and summoned allies from nature to attack them. But something was amiss! How could a noble druid such as Nadir attack those friendly to him? Why would he?

The large purple stone at his neck, perhaps, had something to do with it.

The heroes fought valiantly against Nadir’s minions and landed several blows against the druid and his corrupted forces of nature. Shava defended the helpless girl with his very life against all foes while Idrin moved against Nadir. Akta, Malagar, and Thom Oakenshaft battered the main block of forces as Shava remained steadfast against all odds. Soon, Thom Oakenshaft and Shava defeated the minions attacking the little girl, Akta incinerated the last of the minions, and Malagar and Idrin were standing toe-to-toe with Nadir.

And then Nadir, in a sphere of swirling leaves, vanished into the depths of his forest lair.

Battered from their first battle together, the heroes rested and spoke with the crone, and planned on how to proceed further. After a brief offering to the spirts and some of the Ma Evanson’s Spiced Honey Tea, the group was off into the forests to track down the foul corrupted druid: they faced the might of a uncharted river and dared to cross it’s dangerous currents; they escaped the shifting forest maze that would have made others go mad; they calmed the angered survivors of the Elfwood camp through sheer guile, and even earned a reward.

And then the heroes’ search for Nadir, the murderer of a thousand elves, the corrupter of the forest, came to an end.

The druid, oblivious to anything but his own power, ignored the newcomers to his lair. The heroes, aware of the justice yet to be served, formed up and charged into battle. With a mighty spell of nightmares, Akta struck Nadir; with a clever flick of his wrist, Malagar flung poison at the druid. And as the druid groped through the shadows of fright in his mind, something terrible happened. Nadir grinned as a gleeful madman does when slitting an innocents throat, yanked the gem off its chain and stabbed himself in the heart…

And he began to change.

His bones snapped as they reformed into wings; sinew and muscle bulged along his arms and body as he grew. His face and some of his body was armored with bark; his wings were the tops of great oak and poplar trees, now charred and stamped underfoot. The druid wasn’t human anymore, but a dragon — and an angry one at that!

It snapped out at the nearest target it could find and brought Malagar to within an inch of seeing The Spider Queen. The Sheriff sprang into action and took command of the battlefield with cries for valor and action against a massive and powerful foe. Akta continued her arcane assault as Shava moved into position against the last of Nadir’s minions. Idrin brought up the rear and charged into battle as Thom Oakenshaft shouted out the dragon-druid’s fatal weakpoint: just under the wing up by his shoulder.

Malagar struck with his sharpened knives; Thom Oakenshaft stabbed at the weak spot with his spear; Shava trounced the minions, Idrin readied an attack, and then with a flick of the wrist, Nadir’s disguise melted away until all that was left was a weakened, dying, corrupted master of the wilds.

And so our heroes were victorious against the threat to Arandale and to the elves of the Elfwood. But now, our heroes needed to discover what the well at the center of the grove was for, what Nadir was after, and how all of this impacted Arandale and, perhaps, the world.

But that story, my friends, is for next time.

(( Sorry if any names are misspelled. If you don’t have a character sheet up (or I didn’t quite get your name), I’ve got nothing to go on. :) ))

100 - The Minstrel

Because every story has to begin somewhere at some time; otherwise, there would be no stories, now would there? And if there were no stories, then where would a traveling storyteller, songsmith and slayer of downtrodden moods such as myself be?

But how rude of me not to introduce myself to such well-traveled traders, merchants, hunters, and other kind folk such as yourselves! My captive audience deserves to know the name of their entertainment this evening!

I am speaking, of course, of myself — Mord of the High Tower, half-orc minstrel at your service. Some of you may know me as Mord the Chanter or perhaps Mord of the City of Tolls. I am all these people for don’t we all wear many hats and masks as we play our roles throughout out time on the stage?

But enough about me. There are stories to be told this evening while the sun descends those final steps into the Underworld below and the Kind Sire of the Night steps into the sky to call the spirits and fey forth from their world of dreams.

Tonight I begin a very special story — a long story about a group of adventurers from this very town, or at least from this lovely town in spirit. It is my sincerest hope that all of your be able to stay these few nights. If you are, then you know where to find me, courtesy of my kind benefactors here at The Mended Yoke.

And without further delay…


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