MAIN PAGE     FULL STORY (Word Doc)

Meeting     Into the Crypt     Umber Hulks    Stone Heart    Vampire    Beryn     Keep     Sand Giant
City-Between-Places     Beryn's Farm     Bog Serpent     Stronghold     2 Parties     Dog & Horn     The Cells
Escape!     Calrhuvianne     Souls     Hawker Bag     Kin's Tale     Mayor & Shopping     Dhunok Grael
Karubiat Elesis     Underground Sun     Lizardmen     The Boat     Akkenophon     Shurudien!     Ghurzak!
To Karnak     Dice     Oracle     Mogradjinn     Battle     The Hilt     Exit     Strange Allies     Ghorak Lan
Farigon     Calrhuvianne2     Wraithking     Columns     Last Column     Galent     Zeres-kai     Eyrie
Elementals!     Golem

Suva reacts quickly and turns to the rest of the party.

"Surely we must ask that the dreadnought is destroyed?"

Jiriki agrees and Morin adds that the disease its destruction would carry should be removed - whilst also attempting to ascertain the being’s name.

"Your own actions have destroyed the construct - but I will remove the disease it would leave. You choose with honour, when you could have taken more. Fare well, and good luck."

Noticeably failing to leave its name, the shape fades to nothing and then the rumbling increase in magnitude all about.

Suddenly, the column explodes but in a fraction of a second the fragments slow to almost zero velocity and transmute to powder before speeding out again in harmless cloud.

But this not the end of matters: the stronghold seems to be collapsing about the party.

Suva casts a prayer spell, hoping it may give some aid as some of the party begin to head towards the temple. Darius shouts out to the party, “Weve just come from another exit, lets head to that as its much closer......”

Darius leads the way and Balin, much as it pains him, realises that retrieving the cloak and dagger will take him in the opposite
direction from the rest of the party. Impetuous he can be - but not suicidal.

Swiftly, checking Jarek is alright (and remarkably, but for a very, very sore arm, he is) the party exit under Suva's blessings. The whole place seems to be falling apart so there is no time for anything but a hasty exit down the shuddering passage, slowed momentarily as the passage narrows, then onwards hastily into a newer portion, past the corpse of an umber hulk and finally to an exit point. All the way, the grand symphony of destruction fills the air with a cacophony of booms.

As the party clamber out of the rising passage and back into daylight and onto solid ground, dust and splinters of rock billow out of their exit point, the final death-cough of Ghorak Lan.

The valley remains empty and the thunderous noise starts to subside as dust rises into the air from over the hill. Getting their bearings, the party realise they are only yards across the valley from the waterfall that marked their own secret entrance.

The way to Galent lies out of the valley.

It's a difficult wrench but the party decide to leave the missing Illuminatus, the vanished Hawker bags, cloak, dagger, dimensional rift, unchecked olog-hai guard bodies, "dragon" and other small and unexplained details to the ruins of Ghorak Lan and the tomb of the wraithking. The minutes of discussion have produced no dragon climbing to freedom and there is only trust and hearsay that the Dreadnought is destroyed.

Setting an even pace and staying alert (although if any reinforcements had arrived to protect the stronghold, they would surely have shown themselves by now?) the party head back towards Galent, following the river initially as the large tracts of cut up and smashed landscape indicate in no uncertain terms which way the Dreadnought went.

Ranedil 6th

Thankfully, the journey, whilst tiring, is uneventful and is halted about 15 miles from Galent. The party have travelled through the night and made excellent time, keeping hurrying on as more distance was passed without finding the Dreadnought. It's after dawn on 6th Ranedil and fatigue is fairly high but victory is clear: a vast area is covered in hundreds and hundreds of bodies of ogrish zombies. The Dreadnought seems to have utterly dismantled itself mid-step and many of the unmoving zombies are torn to pieces where that have landed harshly.

And then it strikes the senses that there is no smell other than that of the hills and grass. Whatever the spirit freed was, it has cleansed this area, good to its word and no disease will sprout from this congregation of death.

The Dreadnought is gone, the stronghold is in ruins: certainly a victory!

And then the party see Beryn: he's crouched, tired-looking, at the other side of the field of zombies, contemplating, it seems. Calrhuvianne is with him and waves the party to join them through the carnage.

Close up, Calrhuvianne doesn't look too well but he explains before any question can be brought:

"This...thing," he waves his hand over the vast area of scattered zombies, "It overtook me on my way back here - I heard it coming from miles. I was bowled to one side by it and have contracted something but I think I'll be OK; it's easing off already.

"Although Galent isn't really saved............Beryn?"

Beryn stands and straightens, stretching his back, and sighing.

"It's been a tiring few days!" he begins with a slow smile. "It's good to see you all looking well. I received Suva's message, of course, and I've been looking at the note Calrhuvianne had and it leaves me worried."

"I should tell you first of all that we have given up on Galent; it is abandoned. Most of the townsfolk have left as the mystical malaise got worse and rumours and gossip abounded. Moebius is in hiding, as a cleric in town knew of his presence at my farmstead and would not stay quiet about it as he began to panic.

"Dhurghumlund is effectively at war. Hawksmoor's plans were much more advanced than any intelligence the mayor had gathered suggested. The Dreadnought was a declaration of it - he did not need it to finish Galent; it is merely a show of strength. The pyres and obelisks marking out the symbol of the Unnamed were enough to finish the city and the river link from sea to mountains is broken. Even now, boats leave Pen Duras for Karubai carrying those who fear the catastrophe of war. The great stone halls of Rin Duras are closing and the dwarves are gathering their men from the mines. These are dark days, indeed. And we have no idea what Hawksmoor will do next.

"But that is not my worst fear."

He waves the notes from the cylinder that Calrhuvianne had been carrying, "Hawksmoor's plan came to him from a dream dragon, a dark beast that breathed sinister plots," he reads. "It is my feeling that this is the Mogradjinn's claws at work - it has set the country to war by planting a scheme with Hawksmoor. But it's motive, I am sure, is to keep him away from the Sword of Names by occupying his other ambitions. The Mogradjinn must have somebody who has infiltrated Hawksmoor's inner circle."

"The Sword should remain our main thought, though I am unsure where to pursue it next."

Easing away from his doom-laden comments, he adds, "By the way, I assume that the stunning destruction of this Dreadnought is down to you? If the situation was different, I am sure the mayor would hold another feast in your honour!"

Morin replies as Suva rests and prays.

"With hammers and light through the hawker bags. There were two columns for it's creation, and one to maintain it. The final column held within it some spirit, which granted us a wish once it was freed. We chose to dispel the disease from the dreadnought, which probably explains why you are getting better Calrhuvianne."

He pauses a while to take in everything that has occurred.

"Do you know where Moebius is hiding?"

“Hmm, that was very good of you all. I wonder who that spirit was.......?,” muses beryn, “And what else you might have chosen........”. He seems lost in the possibilities for a moment and then recovers his concentration.

"No matter. Moebius is in the City-Between-Places. He can walk safely there, although it means that communication and organisation is a little strained, to say the least. But you need rest - there is camp a couple of miles from here where some of Galent's folk have gathered, deciding on their own fates. There are enough there for us all to be safe for now and rest easily, I think."

It's not too far, even for tired legs and the warmth of a campfire is welcome. Dozens of carts are gathered, crammed with belongings and there must be 200 people there. It's about lunchtime and a rough and hearty stew is prepared and the party are welcome to partake - there is a communal atmosphere born in friendship but stretched to its limits by suffering, loss and argument.
Many of the predominantly dwarven folk greet their heroes with the best smiles they can muster, recognising them well, but there is a serious discussion at every cart. Many want to head to their brothers in Rin Duras, others argue that the way is too dangerous now and that Pen Duras would be a better option. Still others that whilst they have been forced out of Galent, they have not abandoned it and should seek out and destroy the magic that has attacked them.

The party settle and discuss what they should – there is a strong feeling that battle should be taken to Hawksmoor and Galent returned to normal.

A couple of younger dwarves rather meekly - clearly impressed with the elven sorceress' stature and looks, mildly dishevelled as they are - bring over some strong brandy in a hard leather bag and then scuttle off, whispering. Bowls of hot food and bread are easily had - for now, whilst rations are plentiful - and welcome. Soon the party has naturally found its own space in the caravan and are gathered to discuss what to do next.

Beryn answers Morin’s questions about Hawksmoor as the rogue opens his backpack to fish out the amulet from the olog-hai guard he placed some time ago..

"I think Hawksmoor will be annoyed but no more than that; the stronghold was already abandoned by the Ghull, which suggests it had achieved its purpose to me. Hawksmoor's larger plans are already in motion, whatever they might be.

"But my concern is still the Mogradjinn: whilst you are right to have concern about the people of Galent and war that looms, that is entirely playing into the Mogradjinn's plans. Even Hawksmoor has been manipulated, I am sure of it; if we push our energies towards defeating the High Dwarf's plans, then how far will the beast's plans have come by then? What problems might the werewolf have caused in that time? How much closer might the Sword of Names be to being made whole?"

Beryn pauses as Morin passes over the amulet, checking the inside of the pouch it was with interest as he does – it is singed, presumably by the amulet.

"Hmm. Some sort of scrying device? I'll have to look at this later........," Beryn says and slips the amulet inside his robe.

"And do not think your actions have been in vain; whilst Galent is still uninhabitable, you have avoided its destruction and the unleashing of a plague upon the ruins. Many of these people and many more besides would be dead if the Dreadnought had reached its target.

"And do not also think that the search for the Sword is paused: we have the hilt and elemental gems. The Mogradjinn has only the scabbard. And we know where the lightning gem is. And I am also very sure where the blade is, the trickiest of the items to retrieve. I will not say where out in the open, however.”

Beryn’s previous comment about being ‘unsure where to pursue it next’ would seem to have been about which option to choose, rather than a lack of options!

"As ever, your fate is bound up in the Sword and you must decide: hope that having some part of the Sword creates a stalemate as far as its reunion is concerned, be a hero to the people of Galent and risk the Mogradjinn closing in on the Sword.

"Or , leave Dhurghumlund to fight its own wars and protect them from an ongoing and greater threat.

"You all must decide. I will take this amulet over to my cart for study....", he rises to his feet and heads in the direction of one of two large covered wagons he has indicated as his.

Discussion, laced with quantities of dwarven brandy, ensues again, this time with the party thinking more that they should go after the blade – the blade and hilt reunited is a powerful weapon in its own right, to those with Heredwaith blood inn them. As all the party have such a lineage, its acquistion would be of great benefit in combating both the Mogradjinn and the Hawksmoor.

The afternoon passes into the evening as the party get in to full swing, drinking, relaxing and throwing off the tension and difficulties of the last few days. It's a whirlwind of motion with dancing and singing.....most if it not very good...but appreciated nonetheless by the dwarves, as the entire camp momentarily forgets the brink that it stands at.

It's a good feeling.

And then dawn approaches and reality with it.

It seems that most of the party have ended up crammed in or around Beryn's wagons. There are also a couple of the hardier dwarfs that had lasted well and as sunlight wreaks its painful havok, they stumble off to find their families with a vague grumble and muttered salutation.

Beryn has some water and a strong-tasting, warm, watery, savoury concoction which gives life back to tongues and deadens the pain behind daylight-stricken eyes. A little.

Taking advantage of the situation, he presses for a decision by the party:

"The lightning gem or the blade? Moebius is elsewhere for now and you all seemed quite keen to get the blade last night. It involves a trek to the mountains of Lhandroth-Yar and likely the most difficult of the three tests; Serestius' hiding place. And it's barbarian country.

"So," he says, matter-of-factly and in an irritatingly good mood, "we ride in an hour?"