On Hermea and Mengkare

Seeing Tala depart (before she returns or Kulman speaks of his past), Thomas looks back at Chad to respond to his query about Hermea...

"As it turns out, there was a tome in the Library of Oppara where I would often go while on duty.  What I found out about Mengkare was fanscinating... so I committed most of it to memory.  Let me see if I can find it..."  Taking a moment to stare into the near distance, Thomas begins as if reading straight from the page of a book...

"More than 150 years ago, the gold dragon Mengkare grew fed up with humanity. For generations, he had watched members of squabbling nations and religions swarm over each other like ants, fighting and loving and dying in an endless series of poor decisions, always refusing to realize their natural potential. Yet even as he deplored their lack of foresight, he was fascinated by their dogged resilience—he saw how easily, with a little guidance, they could be prodded and shaped into something truly worthwhile. A magnanimous, high- minded creature by nature, he decided to make the perfection of the human race his personal mission. Mengkare immediately relocated to an uninhabited island in the southern Steaming Sea, where his experiment could go forward without fear of contamination. He then began soliciting volunteers from among humanity’s best and brightest to participate in what he dubbed “the Glorious Endeavor,” a utopian dream that began with the founding of the island’s only city, Promise. Here, safe from warfare and ideological struggle, these paragons of the human race could perfect their arts and bodies, making each successive generation healthier, smarter, and more talented than the one before it. Under the dragon’s careful (and unchallenged) guidance, the small population has grown and thrived. Life is easy and fulfilling in Hermea— or so its ambassadors claim.

On Hermea, the government is a massive, sprawling meritocracy, with practically every citizen wielding some sort of official power depending on her area of expertise. While Mengkare alone has final say over every decision made within his nation’s borders, the dragon is wise enough to allow his subjects to govern themselves in all but the most crucial matters, and to this end he formed the Council of Enlightenment. The 13 elected members of the Council handle most of the daily duties of governance, gathering information and advising the dragon on important matters. The shores and skies of Hermea are heavily defended by strong magics, and outsiders are only rarely allowed access beyond the carefully regulated trading docks in Promise.  Immigration is strictly controlled by Mengkare himself, and the only way for an outsider to become a citizen is to be recruited by one of the nation’s traveling undercover scouts, who follow the exploits of every nation’s heroes and report back to the Council of Enlightenment, delivering invitations to those foreign notables deemed worthy. These invitees are granted a one-time offer to join the nation’s slow march toward perfection and live a life of comfort and security. All that’s required in return is for the applicant to cede all personal authority to Mengkare, agreeing to abide by the dragon’s considerable wisdom in all matters. Children born in Hermea are given every advantage—educated in magic, art, science, and the martial disciplines according to their interests—until they are 16 years of age. At that point, they are tested by the Council and frequently offered the chance to become citizens. Children who refuse or are deemed unworthy are sent away and never permitted to make contact with Hermea again. Mating and partnering among citizens is encouraged, but the courtship process is long and frequently guided by government officials in charge of helping to naturally breed beneficial traits. While the island is primarily populated by humans, Mengkare occasionally allows in members of other humanoid races if they distinguish themselves adequately in a given field, or if he feels they could be an asset to the community’s genetic pool. Adding the occasional elf, for instance, tends to ensure a long-lived and physically attractive population. While Hermea’s few dealings with the outside world are always fair and polite, if standoffish, not everyone agrees with the country’s goals. To many, the idea of breeding humans like horses or dogs is inherently distasteful, and several major religions have condemned the nation’s mission, though their ire may be more inflamed by Mengkare’s staunch refusal to allow any form of organized religion on the island. Yet for Hermea’s residents, the nation remains a shining bastion of virtue, humanity’s best hope of transcending its petty conflicts and achieving lasting greatness. Every decision in the country is made for the greater good, as determined by Mengkare, who genuinely believes in his goal and therefore remains righteous and pure, even when forced to order distasteful actions such as the termination of citizens who prove disappointing or threaten to disrupt the system. The dragon strives to give his subjects as much free will as he feels they can handle— after all, he’s picked the best and brightest, and believes they ought to be allowed to follow their passions toward greatness—but he has no problem enforcing absolute law when the need arises. What’s more, since all who accept an invitation to join Hermea are required to sign a contract ceding all free will to him before they’re allowed to enter, Mengkare knows his authority is just and legal, and any subjects unwilling to lay down their lives for the cause should have read the invitation more closely. With its lofty goals and comfortable, progressive society, Hermean citizenship is coveted the world over, and many are the disappointed applicants who sail far across the ocean only to be politely but firmly turned away at Promise’s sandstone walls. Invitations to join the community are not issued lightly, and each year only a few men and women from across Golarion are welcomed to Hermea’s shores. Each of these is the result of careful study by agents of the Council of Enlightenment, who sometimes follow a prospective citizen for years before finally revealing themselves, often posing as cohorts, advisors, or bards seeking to chronicle a hero’s deeds. Once an invitation is issued, the recipient has as long as he or she desires to respond, but all decisions are final once made. Once an invitation is accepted, the new citizen is showered with gifts and transported at the nation’s expense to her new home, where she signs the infamous Contract of Citizenship in the presence of Mengkare himself, and is then set up in the city with everything she needs to begin her new life of enlightenment. Occasionally, for whatever reason, a citizen falls from grace or a child born on Hermea fails to pass the tests required to prove his exemplary status. When this happens, the Council does its best to work with the citizen to resolve any problems that might be leading to disenfranchisement or sub-par performance. If its efforts are not successful, the offending party is quietly sent away in disgrace, and the community does its best to move forward. Hermean society’s understanding in these cases is that the undesirables are returned to mainland Avistan with enough supplies to make their way in the world, and any charred corpses that wash up on the island’s shores are generally believed to be the work of pirates. Life in Hermea, whether in Promise proper or on one of the farms that support it (for agriculture has its innovators as well), is just as wonderful as the stories tell. And if those few sailors allowed to trade there whisper of an undercurrent of fear, of rebels hiding in the forests on the far side of the island or infiltrating the Council of Enlightenment itself, then they must surely be mistaken."

Kulman's past, our future....

Kulman closes his eyes, places his hands on his chest plate while the group begins to debate the next move.  You each can hear Kulman whispering to himself, asking questions, seemingly to a friend of swords and he keeps using the name Azusu.. "Do you know of this Hermia, what of the Gold Dragon, what of the Orbs.... Does any of this ring true to your memory?"

Kulman's frustration is evident in his demanor when he returns from this seemingly silent conversation, and you can see the Luck Dragon emblem upon his chest piece moving as if communicating with him.  In his frustration Kulman takes off his pack and tosses it to the ground.  His gear seemingly spills out onto the cave floor... A waterskin, some rations, a small bed pack. A holy symbol of Iommede. A coin.  Seemingly plain, and yet not of a currency that you recognize.  Kulman picks it up and holds it in in his closed hands...

“Friends, I can call you that, because I feel that we have all found a common bond.. Whether it be glory, he looks to Thornborn, Salvation, he looks to Tala, Knowledge, he looks to Wong, Redemption, he looks to Chad, or Honor, he looks to Mal and Thomas, we have found friendship.  All of these traits of yours I admire, I even stive to copy.  There was once another.  To understand what I am about to tell you, you must know me.  I have kept myself guarded, protected, for reasons that possibly my history will explain.  But only then will you understand the terror and reverence I give to this coin.

When I was young, even by human years, no more than 10 my Mother passed.  She was taken by the bleaching.  My Father told me her travels back to the first world were quicker than normal, and out of fear he uprooted us and began our travels.  My Father was a great alchemist.  He could turn dung into mana if it were required of him.  From our homeland, of which I know nothing, we traveled through Golarian.  From town to town, and city to city he found work but never kept us in a single location for more than a year.  By the time I reached my 33rd birthday we found ourselves on a Horse farm in Lastwall.  It seemed it would be another stop in our endless journey but my Father found a peace there that he could not find anywhere else.  There in Lastwall I found my first true home.  With the marvelous steeds of the farm I found my calling.  The owner of the farm was a kind and gentle human who not only marveled at my Father's ability to treat the horses but also granted me access to his vast array of books.  It is there that I read of the famed Knights of old.  The valiant heroes of years past.  As a young Gnome I saw in those knights a greatness that I never thought I could match.  A grandness that was all inspiring.  In all of the tales Knights rode upon mighty steeds and vanquished the terrible denizens of darkness.  I saw it as a simple task.  Learn to ride a horse.  Learn to carry a lance.  Ride fast.  Aim true.  Strike.  And Evil would fall.  How little I knew as a child.

 Over 35 years I trained, I honed my skills upon smaller breeds, ponies mostly, and discovered that I had the fortitude not only to strike true, but also to stay in the saddle and take a strike in return.  Upon my 70th birthday my Father bid me farewell.  With tears in his eyes he told me that I was no longer welcome in his home.  That if I were not to travel I would be overcome with the bleaching and would leave this world.  He had found his secret, normalcy that was tempered with an ever changing conundrum.. whether it was a sick mare needing to give birth, a wild stallion needing taming, he had found an everlasting pursuit of knowledge and new adventure that seemed to stave off the bleaching.  His worry of my complacency created a situation where he bid me farewell, for my own well being....

And so I traveled..  From town to town, city to city, in an attempt to find my way.  The story of Knights and their grand adventures spurring me to believe in myself.  Commonly looked down upon, literally and figuratively, I never found my place until I met them.  I had no idea what they were when I met them, only that they gave me an offer.  They talked down to me surely, all creatures of grander stature did, but they offered me an opportunity.  I had no idea what horror and wonder lay beyond me.  It started with the Dwarf, Derrak Stoneskull.  He was consuming libations in the local bar and somehow he and I struck up a conversation, I do not recall how.  He was exceptionally well armored, based on my knowledge now of these things, likely a highly magical full plate made of Adamantine.  I called him Ser, which seemed to make him chuckle, but I saw no reason why any warrior with such fine armor and weapons would be anything less than a Knight.  He seemed to appreciate the title I had granted him, and bought me a drink introducing me to one of his companions, Inaris Jerveel a human woman with equally impressive armor and weaponry.  As I bowed and addressed her as Lady the Dwarf spit out his mead and made it a point to call her lady from that moment forward.  I felt I was in the presence of greatness.... I was, just not as I had imagined.  The Dwarf corrected me and told me that he was no Knight, but that Inarris was a Lady and insisted I continue to refer to her as such.  And so they introduced me to their leader of sorts, Wotywina Turncoat, a hafling who had only a fine blade upon her waist.  Wotywina along with Derrak offered me the opportunity to be their squire.  I was so excited I could barely contain myself.  The placed a contract in front of me and bid me to read it and sign it placing myself in their care.  It was for a single task, which was not listed in the contract but that Wotwina told me I was more than capable of handling and so I signed it on the spot.  That is when I met him, my greatest friend, and the man who helped me understand myself, Echean.  Echean was neither impressively built, nor well armored.  He was an elf, very common looking and quite unremarkable.  Yet he seemed to give both Inarris and Derrak pause.  

  And so I was under contract.  Lady Inarris as I knew her then, and the others.  On an adventure.  They gave me coin, with which I purchased Almer my pony, and we went about our way.  We traveled for a few weeks together.  Conversing at times, and laughing when we were able.  I took care of the horses.  I oiled the armor.  I listened.  The job for which we were contracted had to do with an item.  One that we had not yet found, but were tasked to find, and once found we were to deliver it to a man.  Sounded simple, but simple can take many turns.  

Echean and I began having evening discussions, about life, about purpose, about self.  I would tell him about my dreams to become a Knight.  To help others.  To ride valiantly into combat.  His words still haunt me to this day.  “What is it that makes a man a Knight?”, “When riding valiantly toward your foe, what does that make him and what does that make you?”, “What becomes of you once you have slain your foe, and what are you to his family who loved him dearly?”.  These questions made me question the simplicity of the world I had thought I lived in, and then my world finally became grey.  We had received a lead.  The item we were searching for had recently been in the ownership of a man in a village not far from our location.  We went to go see if he would disclose to us the location of the item.  Derrak and Inarris went into his shop while I waited outside.  I heard them asking him questions, and what sounded like strikes.  I turned to Echean and asked him what it was that was happening within the shop and he told me they were simply asking questions.  Sometimes they would get pushy, but that as long as he disclosed the information, Derrak and Inarris would not harm him.. After only a few minutes Wotywina entered the shop and although I did not hear what she said I did hear the splash of liquid and the smell of iron hit my nose.  I knew instinctually what had happened and I found myself vomiting by the side of that shop.

Echean tried to comfort me, he told me that the world is not always black and white and sometimes decisions would be made that are not ideal, but necessary.  I seemed to swallow those words, but they never took root in my soul.  We left that man in the shop and traveled for a number of days, I stayed almost completely silent.  Not sure what to do, I was under contract, and I could not break my vow, and yet I had seen these people just kill another.

Finally I struck up the courage to ask Echean what has occurred.  He told me the man worked for a dark group, and that the book we were searching for held dark secrets that could not be let into the wrong hands.  That at times we are called to do terrible things, in hopes that we can prevent even worse atrocities from falling.  It was then that he told me what they were, a mercenary group.  One of great fame, that had been tasked to retrieve this tome, this ancient book, and to have it delivered to a man named Silas Glibb.  That my task was simply to transport the book to this man once it was in our possession.  All of the members of the mercenary group are well known, he told me that they are also wanted in many locations, he explained that many times the truth of what happened is not always what is reported to the authorities.  Sometimes good deeds do become ones other attempt to punish you for.  As such he and his companions, now my companions were not welcome in as many locations as a traveling Gnome might be welcome….. I told him that when this was all over I wanted nothing to do with them, and yet I felt that I owed them this task as I had a contractual obligation….. He understood and hoped that I would find peace, and not look down upon he and his companions for making a little coin while doing what they thought was right….. I thought on that for many days, until it was found.  We did not expect the book to be found so unexpectedly.  We had reason to believe it was being transported and knew of the most likely route of transportation.  I was to ride up past a clearing and signal whether it was the caravan we sought, then they could sneak in and retrieve the book.  What I rode upon was far from peaceful, and in no way expected.  An intense battle between two groups was under way. Fire, and beasts of all kind were being thrown about with magical means.  Swords of great brilliance and dark design were slashing flesh and chopping limb from bodies.  There I was, a Gnome, no taller than a desk, caught in chaos. And I froze.  My friends, my companions swept in and defended me.  Echean threw out bolts of arcane energy the likes of which I had never seen, and in truth have not seen since.  Wotywina moved with grace and speed that I had not even read of cutting through armor as if it were parchment.  Derrak and Inarris stood and swung down hacking through multiple bodies at a time, all the while Inarris was chanting an ancient prayer.  They were awe inspiring, and absolutely fear inducing.

In that caravan was the book.  Something about Dragons, I could not read it, nor did I attempt to do so.  I transported it to a town, meeting its owner Silas Glibb, and turning the book over into his possession.  That is where I met all of you, he asked me to stay on and make some extra coin to help him move the book to another location. 

Before I left my companions Echean and I had one final talk.  He told me many things about himself.  His past.  His truth.  That it was not the life he had wished for himself, but that choices have to be made in life and we cannot always see the whole picture when the choice is being made.  The choice to protect me instead of letting me perish led to the battle at the intersection. He said he would not change that choice for anything, and yet he knew it could cause trouble for he and his friends in the future.  He chose to protect me, over the mission, and over the ease of simple thievery.  Our choices define us, I learned that on that day.  And because of that bond, that friendship, that trust he gave me this.”  Kulman holds out a simple coin, likely made of a steel or iron.  “Echean told me that if I ever needed him, that this coin would allow me to call them forth, and that they would help me in any way that they could. He did say it may take some time for them to reach me, as I do not know what this coin does, but it may be the time where his, their assistance is warranted…. 

“Yet, I must warn all of you although only four, I have seen them in combat and I am quite confident and proud of our skills, and we would not last 6 seconds if they brought their force down upon us.  I do not wish to crush anyone’s sense of themselves I simply need to you all understand that these are my friends and they are terrifying.  If years from now, one of you were to call upon me in a time of deep need I would hope that no matter who you were with they would welcome me as a friend and not with aggression or distrust.  I trust Echean.  I trust that if he can help us, he will.  But I also know that as a group we have come to be untrusting, for good reason, and so I wanted to first tell you everything so that I can answer any questions you may have, and secondly I would like Thomas to look at the coin itself to see if he can tell what if any magics may be cast upon it….. I tell you all of this because this coin did return to my memory based on something Tala had said… I do not think there is a connection, but I do know that if you did not hear it from me you would desire combat, which is not what we should wish for, I have traveled with these people well before the new diseases, the dragons, and know all of them well.  They are not tattoo’d, they are not dragon worshipers, and none of them have any desire to hurt us, if they did they would have done so in Oppara as they had arrived to watch me be Knighted…. With that you should know, they are called, the Children of Steel….. 

The Bitch is Back

As Chad waits outside in the cold night, a keen eye towards guarding the cave entrance, he is taken by surprise as Tala seemingly just materializes from the darkness of the night itself, brushes past him, and commands him to come.

She enters the cave and immediately the group notices something different about her.  Well, not quite different...more like familiar.  Thorbjorn recognizes her gait and stance and the commanding way she holds herself.  The look in her eye that reflects the "old Tala", the stone cold killer he admired before she took a turn for the more mild and diplomatic Tala.

The bitch is back.

"I would tell you that our worst fears are coming true, but I have no more fears.  From this moment on, I harbor only hate and vengeance in my heart."  Hesitating, she says, "Strike that.  I have no heart - now it is just a burning coal of hate.  Thorbojn, I know you are going to be very reluctant to help, but there are people we need to kill."  Her sarcasm is not lost on the giant.  "Well, not just kill.  Slaughter.  Let me explain.

"Though it has only been an hour since I stepped from this caver, much has transpired.  You asked me to attempt to commune with the Mother of the Night and so I did.  Unfortunately, I was met by another on the road thereon."  Long pause.  "It was an Abomination.  A thing that at one time called itself Drow but now an object that I would not claim to have ever belonged to my race.  She will be the first to die - by my hand.  When we have her, the deathblow is mine.  Any other way and I shall be...put out.  Ulu z'hin maglust dal qu'ellar valsharess zhah ulu z'hin wund lil phalar."

Tala pauses, seemingly caught up in some vision which pleases her, but perhaps not in a way that makes the rest of the group comfortable.  Those acquainted with legends of the Drow have heard that they are ruthless, cruel and would not hesitate to slit a throat, asking questions later.  They say it is a frightful thing to witness, though not many have lived to tell the story as the Drow are well-known for taking no prisoners.  You feel as if you might be seeing but a fraction of this wicked and unrestrained nature here, which gives a cause to step back.  In a moment, she focuses back on what is happening in the here and now.

"This thing, she spoke to me.  As I have said, she was at one time Drow, but now is an Abomination.  Her skin is entirely bleached and she has no mind as would befit a Drow.  On her face is tattooed the mark of a black dragon, much like we have seen before.  She spoke with me, or rather talked down to me, and I will not go into some of the details, as it is difficult to speak of and does not involve any of you, but the gist of it is that she demanded the orb which is in our possession.  For the orb she offered us the possibility to live.  This is how I know she is no longer Drow - Drow do not bargain - we take and then kill.  Or kill and then take.  In any case, she stated she is now one of the Children.  She would not elaborate on this, but I do have more information that I will share.  She talked about this "bleaching" effect and bragged that it was 'a disease from another plane which has no cure as there is no immunity to this disease in this plane.'  Of course she might have been speaking metaphorically.  But I am very clear in the fact that it is SHE that is the disease...and I am the cure.  I refused and she left me into the darkness."

Tala hesitates for a moment before continuing and even Mal can see there is a sadness that comes over her.  But it is a sadness that seems to be tempered with rage and hatred. She continues, in a voice that is much more soft and somber.

"It is then that I was able to contact the Dark Maiden, I cannot tell you all that we spoke about - some was for the ears of her servant alone - but I will say that I have never been more saddened as to what I observed.  She is in need of help, which I am of course sworn to give her.  She is not in need of diplomacy - she is in need of steel.  But more on that in a moment.  I will boil it down for you.  In the old lands of the east, a cult has arisen.  It is a cult of dragon worshipers - "The Children".  This cult is dedicated to hunting down dragons, either through their own hand or that of others...such as we.  That would, of course, explain the comment made by the White before we killed her.  The Children's rise to power is not coincidental with the waking of the dragons.  As we have seen, there are portals, and apparently one of these portals has leaked something into our realm - this 'disease'.  The result has been devastating - just look at the effects upon first world beings such as the Drow.  In addition, whatever has leaked into our world has awoken, not created or brought about, the dragons, whom the Children have sworn to slaughter.  But there is a greater plot to this.  Somehow the elimination of the dragons translates into the transference of magic into these orbs."  Tala gestures over to the orb the group obtained.  "This one, for instance, contains all of the divination magic in our land.  That is why we are not able to use those spells."

Tala glances at Wong to try and determine if he comprehends the magnitude what is going on here.  They hold, in their hand, all of the divine magic that exists in this plane in one concentrated orb.  She continues.

"I do not need to spell it out for you, but I will.  As these orbs fill, more and more magic will leave the land.  Soon, no magic will exist, the Children will have conquered all, and the First Worlders will be no more.  How do we cure this?  I was able to glean a bit of information.  Apparently the orbs need to be brought together and something has to happen to release the magic contained in them.  Our task is to gather information about the orbs, gather the orbs themselves, and do what needs to be done to release the magic.  Additionally, we mist find this portal and seal it to prevent further damage."

Tala stops as if trying to recall an additional obligation.  "Oh, and slaughter the Children.  Slaughter."

Tala is silent for a moment and studies the eyes of each person in the group, evaluating them as to whether they can be trusted to carry out this final task.  The group realizes that they are in the presence of something greater than the Tala they once knew and greater than the Tala she had become later.  She is no longer a fighter for her cause, capable of carrying out the tasks that were needed to advance her agenda.  She has BECOME her cause - an embodiment of the Drow.  She is not a Drow wielding a weapon, she is a weapon.

"So, what do we do next?  I have already scouted the town below and the dwarves have left via magic.   The Maiden tells me at least one among our group has the means to make contact with resources...and it is not Mal, who might or might not be listening right now.  Perhaps this person has been holding back this information."  Tala puts her hand on her holy symbol as if she is going to draw.  "It is time to stop with holding what is needed to be used.  It is time to set us on the trail.  The trail of blood.

"If you are not up to this, stay here in this town.  Make it your home.  You will be safe, I am sure.  But if you wish to continue, now is the time for action and not mere words.  There is no more bargaining with these Children.  There is only death to them.  They will be meeting the Weaver in another realm.  One in which they will suffer agonies that cannot be imagined."

She waits to see if any walk out from the cave.  Assuming none leave (or if they do she casts deeper darkness and attempts to slice their throat from behind), she addresses them all.  "Eilistraee kyorl d'jal."

Memory Palace

Once inside the familiar cave, Thomas gathers the group around him.  "Something that Wong pointed out jogged my memory while we were talking to the dwarves."  Thomas looks at Wong... "you mentioned that the White said right before he took the final lance blow to the chest that we were 'mistaken'.  That word seemed to echo in my head."  Thomas stares off toward the far wall of the cave.  His eyes seem to haze over then close slowly.  Then he begins to speak, as if distant.

"So I searched my memory vaults for the events of the past few months.  I have a room in my mind where I go to think... my memory palace, I call it.  There I walked along the rows of shelves, glancing at small boxes filled with objects and papers.  Looking...looking...ah, there it is, the globe we saw in Stavian’s vault.  Next to it is a box with the green globe found in the White Dragon’s lair.  Finally, in another box, the globe that the Mantis took from the lodge.  Moving them to a table, I laid them out.  All similar.  Two of them, the one from Stavian, and the one from the Lodge, are cloudy, but colorless.  The third pulses green.  Its color seems not to be the only thing that is different.  The green one has some power in it.  Life?  No.  Something else.  It reminds me of something.  I closed my eyes, tightly.  Something, something about this.  Energy.  So then I ran down the stacks of boxes and grabbed a small box.  Then to another shelf.  I grabbed a scroll case.  Then I stopped...  Where is the other….there it is, top shelf, center.  I climbed, pulling a heavy crate down.  I took all of the items back to the table.  With caution I opened the first box, not knowing what exactly I would find, but trusting my mind.  A small white ball sits in the corner of the box.  No, not a ball, a pearl.  A pearl of power.  I set it upon the desk.  Next, I opened the scroll case.  A scroll, no two scrolls... spells.  Magic Jar and Soul Bind.  But they seem altered, not binding souls or life…but some other type of essence.  Then to the last container.  With reservation, I slowly open the last container, a crate with protections on it.  (You see Thomas physically recoil for a moment)  Evil emanate from this... a lich’s phylactery.  But how do these things relate.  It’s all a puzzle, I thought.  Properties of all of them?  The Dragons’ soul in the orbs?  No…that’s not it.  I looked back at the box with the Green orb.  I picked it up.  I  felt like it is looking at me, like IT is examining ME???  Looking at my person, my items... MY MIND.  I put it down carefully.  Then I picked up the orb from the Lodge.  It is clouded, empty.  Perhaps waiting to be filled with light or color.  Context, I think, might be relevant.  I remember the scene where it was found.  Dreng dead, his stunned eyes wide open.  His body lying in a pool of blood. Heschen dead, the look on his face one of melting despair.  The joy on that Bitch Robyn’s face as she holds her prize in her hand.  She notably disregarded the whole party’s disappearance through the tapestry.  She disregarded the incredible death and destruction around her.  Her face with the red tattoo, almost glowing, her eyes focused on the orb.  It’s what she came for; all of the murder... the blood... the deception... the lengths she went to fool all of is. And what shows most of all... her Happiness.  It was all clearly a small price to pay for the orb.  Finally I picked up Stavian’s orb.  It is the same as the one in the lodge, empty, perhaps waiting to be filled.  BUT WAIT... there was more in Stavian's vault... how did I not see this before.  Papers... underneath the orb; notes, scribbled and blurry.  (Thomas' eyes squint hard as if looking directly at the sun)  I forced myself to concentrate on the writings, and then a few words of it came into focus.  'Vault, dragon artifacts.  Story of dragons.  Red, Black, Green, White, and Blue.  Gray.  A battle, a war.  Metal and Chromatic.'  But what does that mean.  Then I remember Lashonna, the expert on dragon lore, said that the orb came to Stavian’s father from Mengkare.  And then one word last word from the note comes through, underlined.  Hermea."

Thomas shakes his head as if coming from a dream and begins to rub at his temples.  It seems that we might need to pay a visit to Mengkare himself.  But how we get there and how we get an audience IF we can get there, I'm not sure.  

Left unattended, what do we do?

As ThorBjorn steps from the stone doorway back into the snow covered streets, the door seemingly closes behind him on its own, leaving the dwarves, and their human companion, inside.  Snow starts to gently fall around all of you as the silence in the town is deafening.

If your memory serves you well, we'll meet again and wait...

“We need to talk….” says the female Dwarf, looking at all of you as she puts her mug of ale on the table in front of the blue dragon head.

A different voice comes from the corner of the room, another female dwarf, wearing some sort of odd hide armor, by the fireplace.  She waives her hand about the room, out the door.  “Looks like we got here just in time.”  She smiles, almost quizzical, “The Dragonknights of Belhaim, right?  Where have you lot been?”  Then glancing at her seated companion, pausing.  “Holy crap, Marnay, these guys, the last we heard of them….when, months ago?   They helped take down the Pathfinder Lodge right?”  She looks at Mal.  “You’re wanted by a lot of people…and with a heavy price on your heads.” 

A thin human walks out of a doorway, nervously, he his biting his nails.

The sitting Dwarf, Marnay, speaks again.  “Phethean, how much?”

“100,000 gold….each”, the human sneers.

Marnay adjusts herself in her chair.  “By the looks of you, and this place, you’ve been busy….what have you been up to all this time?  More murder and chaos?”

The Path Less Travelled . . .

Wong’s journal, entries being made as he travels down the mountain.

Apparently that path is less traveled for many reasons.  After meeting with the village elders, we determined that the village was being plagued by Pixies and Satyrs and Dragons.  Oh my!  

The group followed the directions of the village elders:  a bridge, and cavern . . . wait, there was something else.  A citadel?  Some dwarven stronghold?  Perhaps we can go back that way later. 

At the old wooden bridge over the deep, icy canyon the group met and dealt with a Satyr and many flying pixies with tiny bows.  The Satyr, whose name escapes me, was apparently the same one we had heard of from the village elders, and was involved in the terrible disaster that cost the villagers their children.  He will not be troubling any other villages.  We were not able to engage in any conversation or get any information from it before Thorbjorn started a bloody fight with it.

Further up the mountainside, we fought a pack of harpies.  They were able to work strong enchantment magicks against several members of our group.  One of them filled my very bones with poison.  Fortunately, I survived. 

After attempting to camp in a cave on the hillside, we were attacked with a storm of ice in the middle of the night inside the cave.  The source was apparently a druid who was able to assume the form of some terrible ice elemental and conjure ice and snow to block our vision.  Fortunately, we were able to handle it without losing any Dragonknights.  For we would need them shortly thereafter. 

After finishing the night of interrupted sleep, we pushed through the Druid’s lair and entered a giant cavern.  A pack of ferocious Adlets surrounded brave Thorbjorn, who was slashed almost unto death.  Fortunately, the Dragonknights were able to destroy their pack master.  Unfortunately, that appeared to wake the great white dragon, Sjohvor.

Sjohvor came from the west end of the mammoth cavern with an army of Ice Golems.  While I summoned the Black Tentacles of Evard to bind the limbs of the minions, tiny Kulman Broadtoe made short work of Sjohvor himself.  Tiny, but fierce!

We now ride down the side of the mountain, seeking nothing more than a warm bed and a hot soup.  What could go wrong?

- Master Wong