The Council at the Forge

by Jarl Skalder

Finally we land at the Forge. Even though the heat is horrifying, its not even close to the Horrors we encountered, defeated and escaped from back at the Mist Swamp. My death in the swamp still vivid to me, my heart burns and feel weakened when the weather turns foul - sadly I will have to carry this curse from Silas to my grave.

After a day and a night of sleep and cleaning up, the Flames are summoned for a Council meeting of The Watchers. Also attending Oaki, Olki, Kerrigan, Wolf and Vin-Namek. The meeting, chaired by Wolf as Merrox's second in command began with us relating the last month of adventure. Once that was done, the bad news started.

In our month of 'absence' 3 very worrying happenings (amongst other less serious worrying happenings) had caught the attention of the Watchers namely;

1. The Bloodlores. We are briefed that they upped the ante on the StoneClaws. The Hand is definitely helping them. Chorak is now dead presumably killed; and the new leader is now Mikil - the violent Troll who gave us the books in exchange for the discs. There sudden ascent to power, and the defensive stance taken by the StoneClaws and the Ironmongers, mean that the Bloodlores are more powerful then ever before, could it be the discs helped them out somehow as well?

2. In the thief city of Kratas a coup was made on the de-facto 'chief' of Kratas; Garthik one-Eye Leader of the Order of the Eye. Vistrox and Brochers Brood rule Kratas now. The Hand, controlling the Brochers Brood, now has enough confidence now to open shop in public in Kratas, actively calling out and hiring anyone to their evil cause with promises of gold and power. The city is pretty much lost to Martial Law and Tyranny just what the Hand wants.

3. Increased Theran movement in the South West. More Theran spies where spotted in the cities. The threat though is too far away and the Watchers have no envoys in nearby cities.

Once briefed, the main meeting points where discussed mainly -

a. recruitment. We are 80 members in total, on the field there are usually just about around 50 members. This is definitely too low, even though one of us is worth a dozen of the Hand, the Hand still outnumbers by scores to one, and for every person that joins us - the Hand would have recruited a lot more in the meantime. Vin-Namek, still affected by the death of 10 of his crew during the last attack on the Bloodlores proposes with going all out - show the aspiring heroes out there that The Watchers exist, with legendary heroes accomplishing incredible deeds as its members. I agree, though the same cannot be said about the majority of the Council and this recruitment plan was discarded. Instead it was decided to talk covertly to community leaders, Questors and forge leaders and they recruit the next generation.

b. expanding the Order by creating a specialised group of Horror Hunters. This point created heated debate - Olki said yes, Wolf said no as it would divert important resources from our main quest of hunting The Hand. The Flames are undecided, in the end the idea did not go through.

c. helping the Hand-affected community in general. Again the plan was discussed whether we are going to do this overtly or undercover, and what resources to use. The idea of repopulating Lybaden was discussed as well. In the end it was decided to steal from the Hand and give to community leaders to rebuild affected areas. The Watchers will send a handful of our best rogues for a test of two months.

At this point a bored Vin-Namek took over and declared that the Watchers are being too complacent and that his crew and himself are reduced to chauffeurs. He declares he wants to go charge and turn the tables on Kratas and the Bloodlores. The discussion was quickly picked up by the Flames, always itching for action, and we were recruited to take care of one of the missions. We were briefed for what needs to be done to bring down the Bloodlores and Kratas. We opted on the Bloodlores mission - mainly after the Air Whisper point discussed later on.

d. Rank and Grade Structure. Everyone agreed the Watchers should have a proper rank and grade structure. We will be briefed again once this is finalised

e. Splitting loot and the Air Whisper. In another heated point of debate, Vin-Namek complained that the people left behind at the Forge doing research, while invaluable, are not getting any loot. Previously any loot captured in a mission is totally at the disposal of the adventurers who found it. We all agreed this is unfair and now 40% of all gold and valuables goes back to The Watchers, 10% community pool and 30% to non questing members. Regarding Magic items, Oaki will be ultimate judge of the magic items 'pool' at the Forge and debate better use if need be between other adventuring groups, depending on mission at hand etc.

f. Air Whisper. After much deliberation and loud and clear indications from Vin Namek to Captain her, the beauty of having a great ship ourselves is too great and we refuse to give the Air Whisper up. Lately, we all agreed, the Flames were getting the short end of the stick and it was about time to have something great to show for our great deeds. We all do a promise to invest our time and resources into becoming able to man the ship and maintaining her. To my great delight I am allowed to Captain the ship, and I am thrilled by the prospect.

g. the Skalder curse case. This was quickly sorted out that the Flames will work on it since we are heading up North; but not as a primary objective.

h. Improving the Library - After some debate it was agreed that all magic users should spend some time to make communal copies of their spellbooks. Also any books found will now be added to the common Forge Library. Lack of resources prevents us from actively purchasing books of Lore unfortunately. We cringe remembering the thousands upon thousands of tomes in Ferros' citadel now lost eternally to the Horror realm.

i. the apparition of the Dragon in the swamp. Elessar raised a point as to whether the Dragon is a threat to Barsaive and whether anything should be done about it. The huge power of the Dragons though makes it impossible to predict, we are all at its mercy and no use debating about.

j. the allying with the Ironmongers. It is agreeable they should become our allies, but not revealing ourselves as the Watchers. We (as the Flames) agree to make contact with them when we are in the North, and with our promise to hunt the Bloodlores together, make valuable allies.

As the meeting finished off, and everyone headed back to his own worries, we strode out and the silhouette of the Air Whisper gleaming in the sea of sand brought a smile to our faces. We look at each other for a second and the feeling of great adventure to come washes over us, we laugh long and heartily.

The Five Flames; an epilogue

Silas stood grinning in front of us. His Hand bodyguards in full plate armour and another four warriors ready to pounce us at a word's notice. Ivor gripped the straps holding the Eighth Book of Harrow.

We retreated.

Back in the darkness of the library we quickly retraced our steps to one of the doorways. Since we knew the layout of the citadel and the way the portals worked, our plan was to split their numbers chasing us and confuse them. The Citadel was collapsing around us so we had to get out as soon as possible, with the Eighth Book, at all costs.

Running through a doorway our Spellcasters buffed our defences in preparation for the fight ahead. We leapt from portal to portal, until the angelic doorway leading to the foyer stood before us again. We drew our weapons, adjusted my quiver , twanged my bow in preparation, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The angel doors opened and we stepped through.

Silas and the others still stood there. Waiting for us. Great.

"Give us the Book and the four of you will be allowed to leave," Silas declared. Either he couldn't count, or one of us wasn't part of his bargain.

"Eat dirt and die!"

"Come get it yourself!"

"Over our dead bodies!"

"Charge!!!"

The four warriors, garbed in loose cloth wrapped around their faces leapt forward, fanning out to circle us. The bodyguards went through an elaborate kata while Silas started to chant.

Our escape route was blocked and the citadel was crumbling around us, but we were in the moment. Until Silas was dead we weren't going anywhere.

Jarl froze the floor in front of them to keep our enemies at bay, Ivor's hammer lit with a flaming roar, metal on metal unsheathing of Ahmok's deadly blades and Elessar's chanting put a grin on my face.

I took deadly aim on one of the Slayers. We were outnumbered, and by the looks of it in deep shit. Yet the creaking of my bow and the point of my arrow in line with my target completely blocked this out. To an onlooker a wooden shaft suddenly sprouted from the slayer's chest who went down like a brick.

First blood.

The battle that followed was furious. The lights suddenly blinked out, pitching us in absolute darkness. Elessar screamed and writhed in agony behind me. Our enemies weren't wielding any bows.... magic! One of them was a spellcaster – I made a mental note to ask my fellows to tell me if they knew about our enemies before going into battle!

I followed Elessar's screams in the darkness until his spasming hit my leg. Not knowing what to do against this kind of magic, I pulled out a healing flask and forced it down his throat, if anything to buy him some more time.

Amok cursed in the darkness, almost stumbling over Jarl's icy floor, who finally lit our immediate area with a cantrip. Elessar's face was whiter than usual, he clutched his chest and squirmed in agony, then slumped unconscious – better that way for now. I hoisted him on my back and followed the wall to what I hoped was the direction of our exit.

Looking to the right I saw Ahmok's blades dance across one of the Slayer's chest. Blood gushed from the his chest and he fell backwards and with a snarl Ivor lunged forward, his roaring hammer crushing the life out of him.

The battle was getting desperate now. Silas was preparing to cast another spell, and from what I had seen already I knew that we weren't going to survive another one of his attacks. Ahmok must have sensed this too because he jumped over the ice brandishing his blades with expertise.

Just then the lights went out again... Jarl. I bumped head-first into the wall and stopped mid-step. Elessar must have been shaken awake by his muttering.

I gratefully put Elessar down and tried to peer into the darkness. He told me that Silas used a spell that physically crushed his heart. Another second and he would have surely died. Something must have broken Silas's concentration, otherwise he wouldn't have woken up again.

The Nethermancer could see through Silas's spell of darkness, so I followed his light step towards the exit.

The light finally came back on and I groaned. Ahmok was surrounded on all sides by the bodyguards and slayers. With every blade he blocked another two sliced in. One guard kicked Amok in the chin, snapping his head back. His heavy sword followed the kick almost instantly, giving an opening to the other bodyguard who stabbed him from the back. They were butchering him!

Looking at the bodyguards I knew that finding a chink in their armour would be difficult, but as I concentrated I felt an old magic stirring within me. His armour became clearer, more obvious. My Family's crest, no more than a hand's breadth wide blinked into existence on a fold of his armour. I held focus and drew my bow. The crest – Three arrows pointing inwards to a jewel sharpened in clarity. I loosed and the bodyguard jerked and went down.

Elessar and Jarl threw everything they had at the rest of time, clearing a space for Ahmok to bolt free.

Silas saw this and reached out to Jarl who's grin disappeared in a cry of pain, clutching his chest and fell back. Elessar somehow managed to come out of it alive, but Jarl didn't seem so lucky. The last thing Jarl screamed was for us to get out with the book.

Ivor ran through the giant doors towards the dock. The sound of storm outside was legion. In that storm was Madness, and it knew that the Citadel and it's protective shield was shattering.

Time was running out.

Jarl gave a final kick and his heart gave in.

Out in the raging storm I turned around to see the slayers chasing Amok and the bodyguards attacking Elessar. A deep rumbling from the Citadel's foundation cut through the storm's wrath – if we didn't stop this now we were all going to die.

Silas strode forward as he was preparing another spell. I could barely make him out through the wind and rain. Reaching in my quiver I fingered my last arrow, slightly longer than the others, it seemed to absorb the light around it. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I pulled it free. The Arrow of Death. It was now or never. I took a deep breath, judged the distance and the roaring wind, nocked the arrow, drew and released.

The deadly shaft arced high through the air, cutting through the storm like the Reaper.

I like to think that Silas felt Death streaking towards him. His form crumpled to the floor, his life blinking out instantly. Silas was no more.

Elessar dodged and ducked the great sword that tried to smite him down. He leapt up from a crouch, reaching for his face as if pulling off a mask. His grotesque face hissed at the bodyguard who dropped his sword and stumbled backwards in terror.

Ahmok turned on the Slayers and stated the obvious – if we didn't all leave now all of us would die. The slayers looked at each other and nodded to Ahmok. A temporary truce.

Ahmok ran back and picked up Jarl's lifeless form.

Ivor struck the gong. We peered into the waiting storm, hoping that the barge would have heard the summons. When it finally did we leapt on board and rowed for what our life was worth.

Never have I seen such demonic creatures. They were all around us, swimming through the waters, clawing at us from above and raping our minds with their insanity. A mother devouring her deformed child hovered over the water. Maniacal creatures tore at each other to get to us. We held on for dear life as the storm whipped the flat barge about. Finally we shot through the rift and into the Mist Swamps.

All around us life burned and was flailed by the horrors that boiled out of the rift behind us. Barely able to hear each other Elessar ripped a portal open and leapt through with Ahmok right behind him.

Meanwhile Jarl was jarred back to life by the liquid from the Last Chance Potion Ivor shoved down his throat.

I would have preferred to remain dead. The expression of Jarl's face confirmed it.

The Air Whisper was so close. Around us the countless dead were stirring awake, blocking our route. Ivor landed blow after blow, keeping them at bay.

In the meantime Elessar and Ahmok emerged in the bottom-most chamber where we had fought the horror. With a twist of the mechanism they shut down the beam of light and sealed the rift.

The wind stopped howling, yet the damage was done. Hundreds of horrors raced across the Mist Swamps, destroying everything in their path. I could feel the land around being leached from life.

From the Air Whisper a voice called out to us. It was Raan, the spirit soldier. They had loyally remained behind fending off enemies off the magnificent ship. We were hauled up to the deck where Elessar and Ahmok appeared before us.

We had to get away, and fast!

We told Jarl, who looked like he was sat on by a dragon, to try to fly the ship. He just looked at us weakly and coughed blood.

"We will remain here to fight with you, but we don't have much time. What little powers we have left we'll transfer to you. May the Gods hear your prayers".

And with that the remaining spirit soldiers seemed to meld with us. All my weariness fled out of us. Never before have I felt such power coursing through me.

Jarl bound up from the deck, eyes clear as day and a grin on his face. He quickly ran up to the navigation platform and grasped the wheel.

"Everyone to their posts, you land-lubbers, let's get this girl in the air!".

Somehow we all knew what to do. We unfurled the sails and each of us took an oar. With straining backs we heaved with all our might. It was impossible, but somehow, with a loud , tired groan the Air Whisper righted itself and started to wobble to the air.

We rose high. The destruction that the horrors wreaked was unbelievable. Entire areas were blacked, a sea of creatures writhed and tore at the Earth, probably poisoning it for centuries. In the distance a huge black form hovered over the complex, spewing gouts of flame and turning the whole place into rubble, melting it down and utterly destroying it; it was a dragon.

We rowed and rowed, increasing our distance towards safety.

Panic hit us when in the distance we saw another spec on the horizon. Our heightened senses clearly made it out to be an enemy air ship. The way it was gaining on us there was no chance of escaping the air pirates. Elessar whipped out the summoning stone and called Wolf. Words were exchanged and from the relieved sigh we knew that we were safe. The ship coming towards us was our friend Wolf!

We slowed until the other ship caught up and were quickly boarded by the Trolls, who manned our places and quickly brought the sagging ship back into the air.

Although the Mist Swamps were now plagued by horrors and much work lay ahead, we bested the pirates and slavers, fought the undead, defeated a Horror and it's Constructs, found the Lost Citadel albeit destroying it in the process, and succeeded in thwarting the Hand from finding the Lost Citadel and claiming the 8^th Book of Harrow.

Not for a long time have I felt such pride to fight beside Heroes like Jarl Skålder, Ahmok Silanaas, Ivor son of Gunthar and Elessar Silfalas. Now amongst them the name Cyrellion D'Aesh B'Aernon may be sung loud and clear in the Ballads of Barsaive.

The Trolls whipped the ship around, down the road to our next adventure.

THE END

Into the Origins of Madness

The rift torn from the fabric of time and space draws closer. The barge, silent, sinks into it, and just for a moment your breath is stolen away from you as you cross into another plane.

You emerge in the middle of a tempest, upon a violent sea and a bitter angry storm. The waves are purest black, the sky only dark clouds, light only emerging with each whip of lightning that bolt out like constant explosions. The sea is maelstrom. But it does not touch the barge.

The waters attack the invisible shield with fury, the spray cuts like razors, and the storm lashes against you but you are protected. You stand still, alone on a small vessel, untouched, but staring out at the infinity, at what lies within the waters.

The water is nightmare, the sea is purest evil. In each drop of water rests a terror, in each flash of lightning you see the scourge. This is the realm of the Horrors, and the entire host knows you are here and you are not welcome.
And then ahead of you, in the eye of the infinite storm, lies your destination. A citadel, sooted in black, weathered by the constant siege of the unforgiving maelstrom. The island houses an imposing structure, several storeys high, dwarfing the walls of Urupa.

The Barge moves closer, sliding into the bay where 'things' have leeched themselves against the rocky outcropping, watching, waiting. The barge softy slides through a collapsed gateway, there a collective chill runs through your bodies as the shield meshes with that of the citadel.

You step onto the dock, a short rock platform paved with flagstones. There is a bell hanging dutifully by it and while you contemplate its presence the boat slips away and disappears back into the storm.

You are alone.

We disembarked on a flagstoned wharf; the wind whipped around us like there was no tomorrow but the maelstrom never touched us. The barrier around us was our only protection from certain madness. We were greeted by a large basin with runic inscriptions in which was a sulphur like yellow dust. Elessar and Jarl could not decipher the runes and we kept going knowing that time was of the essence as the spirits we left behind could already be fighting against the accursed Black Hand mercenaries and pirates. The island castle itself was a sight to behold;

The imposing citadel door can perhaps fit a small airship through it. The door, has a colossal impression of a warrior woman, an amazon fury. She looks like she was trapped in passing – she emerges from the gate waist deep, one arm raised high into the air, and another low to the ground. Her nails are dragon like talons, ready to ward off intruders.

On its hand was a square where the previous door puzzle we had fit snugly (after an hour or so of contemplating the solution). The door opened to a great spherical foyer chock full of statues and intricate architectural design. Three doors, each different, were the only means of exit from the room. One door was plain looking with a lever on its side, the other had two angelic statues on either side holding a trumpet and a scroll and the other was a circular bronze door, with a constellation diagram depicting passions engraved upon it. We took the latter having the feeling that rather than stepping through a door we had stepped through a portal of some sort, very much like Elessar's rift. We ended up in a circular room that looked like a shrine to the gods, all twelve of them, including the dark gods before they turned. Rashemon's statue is visibly damaged.
Two more doors are in this room. There is still the door with angelic statues and another one. It is made of cured iron wood with fastidious triangular shapes on that leads to a square shaped space with a circular elevated platform with runes on it. Next to this is a large forge that is still lit, obviously by true fire. On the floor we also notice recesses that contain different kinds of metal with racks of blacksmithing tools next to them. We surmise that this was some kind of enchanting chamber. Again three doors mark our choice of exits. The same old door with angelic statues is there as well as another one with a mirror that reflects anything that is not living. This door led to a zen garden that had stairs to an elevated platform that housed a recreational area. What is peculiar in this place is that there is no noise and even our voices are inaudible as we speak. The angelic adorned door is always there and we also see another large heavy wooden door with a jewel encrusted lock.
The latter door leads to a great prison tower riddled with cages on the sides and with large vats containing deformed creatures. There are several bones of all types in the cells even human. Apart from the now recurring door with angelic icons there is a cold iron portcullis opened by a chain hanging from the ceiling. the portcullis leads to a shelf ridden circular room with lots of lock boxes on. These contain a myriad of items. There is also lots of rotten food and hung meat in this room. It looks like a huge pantry. Another two doors welcome us, there is the usual door and another that is made of a thick series of hanging chains. This leads to a triangular chamber which is clearly a summoning chamber. The doors that are in front of us now are all familiar the third one being similar to the slab door with the lever we saw in the foyer. We take that and as expected we end up in the foyer again. We also realised that the angelic adorned door also leads to somewhere in particular since it is present in all the rooms we've been through.
These doors had one thing in common, there was no way to open them. We tried pushing and looking for hidden buttons but to no avail. Then a simple knock from Jarl solved our problem as the door slowly slid ajar. We entered an area so large that our light didn't even hit a wall. We were in a reception area with a desk and a bookshelf. The book shelves extend to each side and seem endless. It takes us a few minutes walk to finally reach a wall. We find spiral staircase leading both up and down leading to more shelves. To put it mildly, this library is of gargantuan proportions.
We then come by a door with a star symbol on it. Elessar is confronted all of a sudden by a ghostly figure who claimed to be the custodian and asked him if he wanted to return a book. We ask her to take us to Ferros' study and she agrees. After a very long journey up and down stairs, through shelves upon shelves of books we arrive at a small bridge leading to an open plateau seemingly in the midst of nothing. There is a big door, covered in mosaics of different elements. Two colossal statues stand beside it, a man holding a trident, and another with a sabre. After some time we fit the elemental pieces we had found on the other plane in place and the door opens. We are confronted with a triangular room with two doors. Taking the left door we end up in a planetarium with a pod in the centre showing a world and a control panel on the side next to a large hourglass with the sands of time inexorably falling down. Some quick research and fiddling with the controls of the incredible machine later we discover that this 'toy' is actually a sort of time control machine that can manipulate past, present and future. Eventually we learn the easy controls of the machine and Ivor uses it to check his family's past.

We decide to check the other door and find the long awaited study of Ferros himself at last.

Polished wooden furnishing adorn this room. Dark varnishes make the cloistered space feel warmer and more cozy, as if this space was a beloved one. Pigeon hole shelves rise to the ceiling, housing various types of scrolls, mostly empty, but each of a different composition and texture – some are reed parchment others are leather skins. There is a small cove with a comfortable chair and table, clearly a niche for Ferros to study at, where a small stack of books rests for perusal.

The first is a lecturn, a place clearly made for the writing of books, it is surrounded with a neat set of ink jars and geometric instruments, quills and pens. The second is a book binding station, where presses hold pages down and large needles stitch binding. Pots of glue and coloured wax are set aside strengthen the tomes once completed. The third desk is a simple podium, where the finished product would await until moved to the library. But most interestingly of all is the fact that it is not unused for a book lies resting on it. A large imposing tome, with dark stretch skin on its cover and the oh so familiar symbols upon it. A book of Harrow. The book is revealed to be the 8th book of Harrow, clearly the last in the series and also not supposed to exist. Before Ferros' transcribed the books, adding his notes and thoughts, but now he has gone beyond. This book would contain spells to master horrors, and higher magic beyond belief – such as the spells to maintain the citadel they are in right now.

A good look around reveals another door that leads to a very small, one man chamber made entirely of gold with walls covered in small runes. Elessar tells us that this chamber is for the disassembly of the citadel we are in. After a brief glimpse into the future through the time manipulating machine we see that a giant tsunami is headed towards the citadel and that a few hours later the citadel is no more. We also see members of the hand including Silas running through the place and decide that the best course of action is to start the disassembly of the city, take the book of Harrow and what we can salvage and leave this place before we too are disassembled.

We make our way to the exit through the vast library led by the custodian. When we reach the door with the angelic figures we prepare for the fight and open the door. Unfortunately what we expected was four guards but as a matter of fact we forgot that we were glimpsing the future and there we were the Five Flames on one side and the Hand, led by Silas, on the other. The stand off was short lived as men rushed into combat and spells were chanted...