We have a CUNNING plan!

From the Journal of Ahmok Silanaas

After much deliberation we decide to actually tell the other warlords in Lantern Wharf (Rasmussen's rivals that is) about the Mescal auction to be held that same evening. We figured that most of them didn't know about it and the prospect of Rasmussen losing face with his suppliers after losing the shipment would make him also lose his grip on power in this Passion forsaken, sorry excuse of a settlement of cutthroats.
We had to visit all warlords namely, T'Pan, a T'Skrang pirate who had one of the largest ships in Lantern Wharf, his inn was the 'Father and Robber'; Maildance, a dwarf whose inn was the 'Mercenaries Club'; K'Aninar, another T'Skrang residing in the 'Foul Flask' inn and finally Wothin, a troll from the 'Swaggering Giant' inn. It turned out that T'Pan was out at sea and therefore was out of the picture. Maildance was a rich trader and follower of Chorollis. Wothin was old and probably the weakest of them all while K'Aninar was an up and coming T'Skrang pirate who was making a name for himself here in Lantern Wharf.
The plan was a group combined effort pushed by Wolf's insistence to destroy the Mescal after contacting him through the magical stone Merrox had given us. It consisted in telling every warlord about the Mescal auction and how would Rasmussen lose face if he lost that shipment and also that our employer wanted the shipment destroyed as a revenge against Rasmussen crossing him one too many times. The warlords only had to gain from this situation as they would gain power as soon as Rasmussen is ridiculed in front of everyone. His suppliers would definitely contact one of them to continue shipping the drug. All they had to do for us was to indicate where the shipment was held, destroy the Mescal and create a diversion. At mission complete we are to contact Merrox or Wolf again to confirm success. Failure to do so would mean that they would assume us dead.
It was decided that only Elessar and me would go speak with the warlords. First off was Maildance. The dwarf proved to be a harder nut to crack than we thought. After hearing our demands he gave us an appointment an hour later to discuss his answer.
K'Aninar wouldn't trust us at all. He was very sceptic of our story. Although he had much to gain he also had much to lose. He was out of the picture as we couldn't give him more evidence regarding the shipment.
Wothin would have none of it. He claimed that he is content with what he has and wasn't seeking further power or wealth and also that he was old now, too old for this kind of thing. Leaving the Foul Flask Inn we saw a huge Theran ship moored at the south east quay. Disembarking from it was Vistrosh with his retinue of bodyguards. Vistrosh the hated jailer. In a manner of speaking though the five flames wouldn't exist without him. His presence here would have to be taken into account. Was he here just as an observer or for the Mescal? We still don't know if he is part of 'The Hand'.
After that brief lull we then went back to Maildance who invited us in a lavish room permeated with unimaginable riches. Expensive gold inlaid tapestries, golden decanters, pictures framed in mother of pearl, jewel encrusted weapons and armor, fine silver shields, silk curtains in gold thread and much more the eye could not take in.
Maildance had a counter offer. He told us to steal the shipment and hide it for him. For that he would give us two Orichalcum coins after the job is done and to be collected wherever we like. His offers were very tempting indeed.
After a surprisingly brief and private debate it was decided unanimously to accept the mission and destroy the Mescal rather than give it to Maildance. This would certainly not endear him to us but it was the right thing to do. We knew we would be hunted down eventually but that was a risk we were willing to take. After that the dwarf took us out on the walkways of Lantern Wharf where he indicated the location of the Mescal shipment; it was underwater behind the 'Wealthy Thief Inn'. It turned out that Maildance wasn't just a worshipper of Chorrolis but also a questor of the passion.
We parted and decided to investigate the shipment before acting. Meanwhile Cyrellion took some money off Maildance to hire an assassin to try and kill an ork merchant who was at the auction. This was to be our diversion.
Elessar geared up, stripped naked actually, to investigate the shipment. We used our newly acquired boat 'The Swamp Widow', to go down the river where we would part with Elessar. The swim to the underbelly of 'The Wealthy Thief' was quite uneventful except for the obscene amount of sewage and corpses littering the lagoon. holding back the gagging, Elessar made it to the hull of the aforementioned inn and dived under the layer of muck to find a huge Tundrabeast shell guarded by two chained, very hungry and aggressive lagoon serpents. Apparently the Mescal was held in the skin of the Tundrabeast. Elessar made it back to the boat and reported also guards holding crossbows on the ship's deck itself.
We had to act that same night so it Cyrellion and Elessar, who knew the location, prepped themselves for the important and perilous mission. We know the auction would take place some two hours after dusk. We bought two hunks of meat which we marinated in poison for a few hours to feed to the sea serpents; nightshade ought to do the trick. We then went back to the lagoon after sunset and Cyrellion and Elessar entered the mucky waters of Lantern Wharf once again. If we pulled this off, 'The Hand' would have been dealt a great blow. The idea was that after dispatching the serpents, Elessar would open a rift using his new talents acquired from his years with 'The Hand', to throw the Mescal in and lose it forever in the void.
Jarl!!!! cast the gills spell on the group so they could breathe underwater. The elven duo and the dwarf made it safely, with a few mishaps to the hull of the 'Wealthy Thief'. No sooner than they had arrived, the assassin Cyrellion had hired started his work. The commotion was audible enough and the two sprung in action.
Cyrellion swam towards the nearest serpent and coaxed him to eat the poisoned meat. It thrashed wildly for a while but went limp soon after. The other serpent needed a bigger push to eat the meat. Infact, at first, it ignored the meat completely and attacked Cyrellion who kept his distance. The furious beast then lost interest in its unreachable target and tore into the tainted meat. It died soon after. Elessar and Jarl!!!! acted at that moment diving for the defunct gargantuan beast. They used the kaetta to open its stitched belly up and found the mescal encased as a whole inside a sort of membranous sac. Cyrellion helped Jarl!!!! pull it out while Elessar opened the rift behind him and with a group effort they managed to tuck it in, close it and swim back to the hull of the 'Wealthy Thief'. Here they were almost discovered as Elessar and Jarl!!!! gulped a lot of mucky water and panicked but Cyrellion was there and helped them to safety before the guards could be alarmed. No sooner had they reached the hull when they saw a crane being lowered into the water. They swam across the lagoon to the attending boat where we were waiting for them. I steered the boat towards the strip mine on our map, our next destination.
The Mescal was destroyed, our mission accomplished; we also had made a new and powerful enemy, Maildance. The dwarf would use every resource he can muster to find us I'm sure of it, but we already have our share of enemies and I am confident that the passions are on our side in this grand scheme of things. My first concern though was to get my companions and myself out of this wretched swamp alive; our main mission has just begun.

(Damn) Windlings Ambush

Their first swooping strike caught us by surprise. When we regrouped we saw there were only three - we could take them. Then the bad news started: one of them had two doubles of himself flying around him, effectively increasing their numbers to five. One of the standers-by at the Deck turned out to be an ally of the windlings and started casting spells on our fighters. After Ahmok engaged this spellcaster (who we later found out was a female dwarf illusionist named Nayra), three heavily-armored dwarf warriors turned up at the other end of the Deck.

It seemed that the cards were all dealt, nothing else was forthcoming. Not that we could breathe any sigh of relief. Ahmok was momentarily paralysed by the caster and at first could only throw daggers at her, before being engaged by one of the fighter dwarves. Cyrellion was doing his best to take them out of the sky, but the windlings were deft and agile. Ivor and Jarl took on the other two dwarves, while I shifted my attention between the windling that was targeting me and Jarl's dwarf adversary - to assist as necessary.

The fight was drawing on, with all sides using talents to avoid blows or strike back unexpectedly. The dwarf fighters' heavy armor repelled all but the heaviest of blows, but Ivor managed to hurt them. At one point I blindsided one of the fighters and dealt him some serious armor-defeating damage. This got me noticed, and his one answering blow left me unconscious. When I was brought to by Cyrellion I saw that the fighters had been reduced to one, Ahmok had disposed of his dwarf opponent, the illusionist and Ahmok were nowhere to be seen, and the remaining windling was frantically fiddling with the lock of the bear's cage. Jarl took care of the windling with judicious use of Icy Ball and Chains, which wrapped around the winged pest and knocked him senseless to the ground. The fighter countered by sending our elementalist to the brink of death. Immobilising the fighter with my Pain spell allowed Ivor to finish him off without further trouble. Turning round I saw a windling felled with an arrow through his throat, still clutching a vial. Nice.

When the dust settled and Jarl was given a healing potion, we heard strange, louder than usual gurgling noises coming from the muck of the lake. We went to the side and glimpsed a familiar T'skrang hand thrashing for the surface. We lowered a rope and out came Ahmok, stinking and gagging. We retreated to our rooms (Ahmok to a bath house first) to lick our wounds and decide on our strategy for the auction, to be held at dusk that evening.

of poisened drinks and glory

by Jarl Skalder

We woke up at the Foul Flask Inn, everything was decidedly a lot quieter than yesterday night's rowdiness. Seems like the denizens of the Lantern Wharf sleep their way through the day. After shaking off the fog in our heads we head out of the stinking inn and into the stinking mist outside. At this point a simple plan was made - Ahmok and Cyrellion where to try and procure a boat, the rest of us try to find out about Rasmussen and the Mescal shipment. Once we get the boat we can go find the lost city or beat a hasty retreat after we do a raid on the Mescal.

As expected its very difficult to get any sort of straight deal here, everything is either taken by brute force, stolen or bet - even simple information. At the wharf the T'skrang and elven companion had a look around an area called 'The Deck' a designated challenge arena, where a bear fight was being organised. Two large ships named the Maildance and the Tarien are berthed here along with dozens of different sized sea craft -most of which are either not sturdy enough for the Swamps or too expensive.

In the meantime asking around for Rasmussen was harder than expected as the foul folk here wanted that information themselves. After much moving around the different Inns, I had a close shave with a rough dwarf by the nickname of 'Leasher' who wanted the crystal armor and shield off my skin. He proposed an odd bet - a poison drinking competition - I put in the armor and shield and he puts in his finely crafted axes. Clearly the guy had hell of a lot more toughness than my puny spellcasting ass, and I backed off - only to meet him pretty soon again. As fate would have it Ahmok and Cyrellion had found a sloop that fitted our requirements but who's captain was not around - asking where he might be it was none other than Leasher. Once the whole group was in the Inn we challenged Leasher again - Ahmok courageously took the bet - and a bet was struck. The stakes were heavy indeed; my crystal armor and shield and the Cockerel sword and anything on Ahmok's person against Leasher's ship and whatever was on his person including the axes.

With much pomp Leasher declared the time of the bet on The Deck and kept drinking. We learnt that the poison involved was four Hemlock and one Padendra drink - both lethal. For the first time Leasher's lack of fear and nonchalance was making us quite nervous - especially Ahmok - who had the most to loose. Wisely Ahmok bought a potion to annul the effects of one poisoned drink and fortitude against any others for a few hours. Obviously this was cheating but we had good reason to suspect that Leasher's magical tattoos would somehow grant him a lot of defence and possibly immunity to poisons. We also learnt he had played this quite a few times before against gullible first timers.

The Drinking hour arrived and the 2 contestants faced off - the deadly game began - The Deck was packed with hollering pirates and ruffians placing 3:1 bets against our lizard companion. After the first drink - to which he was immune - was gulped down; Ahmok immediately realised how tough this was going to be as the second drink sent him to the floor. Already crying victory Leasher was taken back when a visibly distraught Ahmok clawed his way up the chair and sat down again. The crowd was wild; the only impassive figure was Rasmussen himself - sitting on a makeshift 'throne'. The third drink was lifted and gulped, cracks where appearing in Leasher's mental strength and the drink had the better of him and floored him... but there was still fight in him and he came back up. Ahmok soon joined him on the ground; but probably calling upon the Divines for strength he came up again. Fourth drink, and this time Leasher was facing the prospect of a defeat as Ahmok drank the poison without batting an eye; belching out a toxic nauseating belch in Leasher's face. Drinking his fourth cup Leasher eats the floor again - and after quite some time regains his composure, one eye bloodshot. Fifth drink, and this time both contestants had obviously bitten more than they could chew and both hit the deck; Ahmok in paralyses and Leasher convulsing. With his last reserves of strength Ahmok crawls back up, hovering close to unconsciousness; Leasher fights strongly for quite some time but doesn't rise.... Ahmok had won!!! The crowd goes wild, we quickly pick up Leasher's possessions before others get it in the commotion and we head away from The Deck and back to the Foul Flask to put the visible very sick Ahmok into a bed.

After checking on out newly acquired skiff, divvied up the silvers Leasher had on him, and made sure Ahmok had recovered (which he certainly had judging from the sounds from his bunk, seems like some guy named Chani had bet on Ahmok to win and tripled a sizeable amount of money and paid Ahmok a personal massage from a sultry T'Skrang female) we where discussing our next move - Ivor took matters in his own hand and left off to talk to Rasmussen on his own. He managed to get an audience and learnt the auction time was the following night at the Wealthy Thief Inn (Rasmussen's own Inn).

We were making plans on how we should act - mostly we were thinking of burning the Wealthy Thief Inn down and hope the Mescal was being kept there, we even rented a room at the Wealthy Thief to have a good place to start the fire from. In the meantime a paper was slid under our door - by the time we opened no one was around. The paper just said 'The Deck at Dawn'. Thinking our cover was blown, or maybe a tipster was going to meet us with some clue, we all went to the meeting point - only to be ambushed by windlings led by the windling thief we had scorned a few days before. Damn good for nothing windlings.

Lantern Wharf, Windlings &Pirates

The day of our departure comes and we opt to head west towards a place called Lantern Wharf. Cyrellion our new friend and companion tell us that Lantern Wharf is basically a hiding & trading place for pirates. There we were to face whores, fighting, smugglers and what have you. I did not picture it nice however I have gone through worse.

Later in the evening we arrive about a mile off from Lantern Wharf and that is where our escort leaves us. We kept close to the river and with the directions given to us together with the aid of Cyrellion we see lights at the horizon. We approach closer and closer still until a vision of the now closer city can be seen. A number of large vessels are seen crashed on the shoreline; some of the wrecks are converted into housing, whilst others lay abandoned. From the distance it just seems a shimmering light as the thick mist hides the city.

The city is a lively one. Almost immediately we started looking for an inn. Cyrellion having already been here names five taverns out of which we pick the one with the most “lively” name the ‘Foul Flask Inn’. A sign with the name carved on it dangled at the front door. Laughing, singing, cursing and shouting is hared easily from a couple of meters outside the door. The place is packed full with people of all races from Windlings to Obsidiman. As soon I went in immediately I recognized that the place was once a hold now converted in an inn. An Obsidiman in one corner hit hard on a rock drum, whilst some windings stood flying playing some tunes on their flutes. Wenches are heavily groped. A large troll stood behind the bar what we came to know as the inn keeper.

Cyrellion headed straight to the bar and ordered some ale however he was served milk, Ahmok and Jarl both downed it immediately whilst Cyrellion after giving it a funny look sipped it quietly.

I went over to a fairly big ork and told him that Ahmok could have beaten him at arm wrestling with one arm against his back. Hearing so he pushed me aside and headed straight towards him. Ahmok accepted to wrestle not knowing what I had done. Immediately a table cleared out for the wrestle. The ork downed the ale he was drinking in one breath and smashed the mug on his head, roaring loudly for intimidation. The ork was way to powerful in arm wrestling and immediately brought down Ahmok’s hand on the table. Ahmok Had just offended his grand mother and immediately the ork lunged at Ahmok. A brawl between the two started off. People were inciting the ork whilst I on top of a table was inciting the crowd.

Elessar’s keen sight was scouring the place, when he saw a windling cutting loose a pouch from a pirate without noticing. Seeing so Elessar moved over to the windling and tried to hold him. The windling with one swift movement swung his sword and gashed Elessar’s hand causing him to loosen the grasp, thus allowing the windling to fly off. Cyrellion seeing the commotion and the windling flying away promptly got hold of a dagger and threw it at the windling hitting it bluntly and causing the windling to crash down on the pavement, behind the crowd watching the brawl.

Cyrellion catches the windling and starts questioning him in order t get some answers or maybe some clues. But soon enough noticed that surely the windling wasn’t who we were after.

Meanwhile the brawl ended with Ahmok knocking the ork with a stool leg. As soon as the brawl had finished, Cyrellion entered the inn again and went up to the pirae who had his purse stolen and handed him his pouch back. The man was very happy to recover his pouch and so to thank us offered us a drink. I downed the dark intruil which sent me also KO immediately it burnt al the way to the stomach leaving just a trail of fire burning in my throat.

This pirate went by the name of Karim. We sat there around a table talking and asking questions whilst drinking the dark intruil named Byle. Jarl overheard that a certain guy named Rasmussen had a big load of Mescal that was going to be auctioned soon, whilst Elessar heard of a bounty hunter looking for a one eyed elf, possibly carrying a large book.

We ask about what we had taught was a large sinkhole on the map and Karim tells us that once a friend of his had seen one, with that he stands up and goes call him. An elf approached the table and presented himself as Nami. After some chatting we arrive at the conclusion that he will give us information in return for other information or else for money. We agree to meet up in a near by wreck within two hours and so we do.

The now famous for haggle Jarl tried to get a special price for a room but fortunately enough the price did not increase other than it was first asked. The two hours pass quickly and we head towards the meeting place. We get to know that we needed to head north of were we where and that the spiral sign might be a true earth mine, also the lines next to the symbol of the mine are possibly rivers. The possible ways to arrive there are either a slaves heading to the mines or on board of the ship or else steal a boat or ask a ship to give us a lift in return for payment.

The Reunion at the Forge

My name is Cyrellion D'Aesh B'Aernon.

Two months ago I was approached by a dwarf by the name of Belwindier. I was somewhat surprised when he told me that he had heard of my previous deeds fighting against slavers, and on occasion the Hand. For many years I wondered why I was actually doing this. A lone elf with a rag-tag band of like-minded adventurers fighting the dissent that is sweeping through our land?

My last encounter with the slavers did not go so well. Everything was going according to plan - for two months we tracked the slavers, made contact with the slaves and convinced them that this wasn't right for them. Little did we know that some of them were agents. It seems our reputation preceeded us and a trap lay in wait. On our escape, they turned on us, stabbing my comrades in their back, and chasing the rest of us through the dense marshes. I have not heard from my comrades, but I fear the worst. I barely managed to escape, hounded for days, travelling by night and hiding by day. At last I came to a settlement on the borders of the marshes.

I was approached by the dwarf that same evening. Belwindier revealed little about how he found me, only chuckling heartily. A strange race they are.

I was told about the Wardens of Barsaive. How a handful of adventurers secretly grouped together, forming a spy network to fight the scourge of the Hand, and are now gathering at the Forge. I thought I was alone in all this, and now, here was a chance for me to drive an arrow through the heart of this dissent!

-----

Wanting to remain anonymous as long as possible, I took my horse that same night and rode out hard toward the south, to the Forge. I had heard about the desert, but could never imagine how hot and dry it could become. Using all my knowledge I managed to survive those months under the searing sun. A few airships flew overhead, but I made no move to hail them.

One morning I arrived at the Forge. A forge they call it! The immense complex is staggering. I remember the underground havens of the mountains, but this, in the middle of the desert was more than i imagined. Training halls, sleeping quarters, chambers with skilled workers crafting weapons, and then the forge itself!

I rested for a couple of days to recover my strength. Still wounded from my encounter with the slavers, and dehydrated from the desert I was given potions to recover. When I was fit enough I was taken to a large amphitheatre where others gathered for the initiation. We were all presented with the Wardens Keatta, a beautifully crafted knife which we each named in turn to bind it to us. After the initiation the others in the chamber mingled to talk, but still a little overwhelmed by the whole experience and still weak, I retreated back to my room to rest.

In the morning, feeling much better, Merrox - the head of the Wardens took me to meet with a a select group of adventurers reknown for their deeds whom I saw . First there was Jarl Skålder , an Dwarf Elementalist, a T'Skrang Swordmaster by the name of Ahmok Silanaas, a human weaponsmith called Ivor son of Gunthar, and also an fellow elf called Elessar Sirfalas - a Nethermancer he claimed to be - I have never heard of a Nethermancer before, but when I had time to look this up I was a little disturbed. Still, if the Wardens trusted and accepted him, then he must be just as worthy as the rest of these heroes.

Merrox informed us of rumours of a city that might have reappeared within the marshes. From the little information that they deciphered from the Books. We were to go into the marshes in search of this city before the Hand got there. The Wardens would provide us with transport close to the marshes - which came as a relief to me after my journey through the desert - and from there we would be on our own.

We palavered for a while, discussion the best way to get ourselves a boat to travel through the dangerous waters - infested with deadly creatures other things rather not named. From my experience these waters, meeting with lava undercurrents could reach boiling points. The mists themselves are sometimes steam rising from the waters, creating a dense wall that blocks visibility completely and distorts sound so utterly that an unwary traveller could get lost within minutes. Not to mention the slavers that abound there. This would also be my chance to get back at them!!

I was greatly and pleasantly surprised with the Forge's training facilities. Using illusions and magic, an ambush scenario was created for us, where we got the chance to fight against an illusionary foe - though the pain was very real at the time!!! My new companions know well their skills, and I have confidence that together we'll be able to accomplish great deeds.

Perhaps we'll be able to create our own dissent within the ranks of the Hand!!

The Hand of Corruption

I still remember Merrox’s words from that night as if they were spoken now: “I have sent your friends into harm’s way, on great searches, on great perils. Each one of them with a task that would burden a giant. But all of them together still will have a lighter load than the one I am going to place on you. For your mission Elessar is to truly look into what our enemy is capable of. You will see its face, learn what it is, what it craves, it’s innermost secret desire. Elessar, you are going to join the Hand of Corruption.”

Throalic agents had intercepted a would-be recruit nethermancer and I was to take his place and become initiated in the dark cult. The meeting would be in a north-eastern border town called Marrek. I was given what signs and symbols to look for, and what to say at what moment.

On the way to Marrek I bought training from a dwarf in Horst, thus reaching the third circle. All along I took my time going up the trek, I did not want to arrive there early and idle for the remaining time. Besides I kept off the beaten path as much as possible, not wanting to be recognized – one way or another. To pass the days I tried to condition my mind to the fact that I would have to do horrible things. I figured that at times I’d have to do them without being told, just to show that I’m loyal to the Hand. Looking back it’s a wonder I’ve retained a shred of sanity – I was so unprepared for what was in store.

Marrek was a typical border town – lawless and with two main institutions: inns and mining. Walking through its streets I spotted a familiar face from the past which I was not too pleased to see – Vistum, the dwarf disgraced trader. I couldn’t risk him recognizing me as anybody other than Nafzel, the up and coming nethermancer, but before I could do anything about it he walked into the same inn as I was headed, where the meeting was going to take place.

Inside I ordered a drink, exchanged the code words with the barkeep, who told me the missing details. The meeting was to be held in the cellar of this same inn at dusk. I left and when I returned Vistum was still seated at the bar nursing a drink. I waited at a corner table, then to my horror saw him walk down towards the cellar. Other people were going down, one at a time, non-chalantly. I waited for some more then went down the stairs.

It was pitch black at the bottom, but a man’s voice greeted me and asked for credentials. Satisfied with my answer he guided me through stacks of miscellaneous supplies to a fairly large, dimly lit room. At the far end there was a small makeshift stage, and the room was already almost full. All sorts of people were present, seated on upturned boxes, crates or barrels. I located Vistum and found a seat opposite and as far away from him as possible.

After a short while a young blonde-haired human came on the stage. She introduced herself as Laira, and thanked us all for coming. She started talking about the future, children, about how a clean world will be waiting. I thought she was quite the rambling speaker, but tried to glean anything useful from it. She was going on about how the world was not ready to be reborn, how the kaers were opened too early and the settlements were an infection on the land. This was the general gist and it dragged on for a while. The meeting then came to a stop and people started milling out slowly. I positioned myself to exit before Vistum, but as I went through the door I was intercepted by the same man who greeted me at the bottom of the stairs. He took me aside and told me that this was just the prelude for things to come. In order to join the ranks of the Hand I had to prove myself, prove that my loyalties and capabilities matched the requirements of the cult. Without further ado he turned round and, with a high to low motion he tore open the fabric of reality that was the wall, took my hand and stepped through the crack that he made. We were clearly walking, but apart from my guide I everything else was shadows of grey and indiscernible. After a few minutes we stepped out into a countryside scene. It was still night and we were on the side of a hill, next to a tree.

He turned to me and said, “On the other side of this hill, down the valley, is the small town of Greenfields. It is populated by elves, led by the Thorali family, and dwarves, led by the Honormail clan. They’ve been living there peacefully for quite some time now, and have forged a very good relationship with each other. Your task is to pit the two races against each other in violent, murderous intent. You have two days. Meet me here when the job is done, or don’t come at all.”

It had started.

I will not go into the finer details of what I did during those two days. I was ashamed of my actions then, and I’m still ashamed now. I found out that there was a prohibited love between two members of the respective families. I took the life of one, pointed the blame on the father of the other. From there I followed events and stoked the fire, always hidden, unseen, until by the end of the second day the main thoroughfare of the town was bloodied by elven and dwarven blood.

I met my “guide” as planned. He must have been watching the proceedings in some way, because he seemed impressed with the outcome. Without further ado, he said, “Welcome to the Hand.”

Inside the folds of the Hand I was assigned to be mentored by a human nethermancer called Gareth, who was also a Questor of Raggok. During the first few weeks I learned of the internal structure of the hand. There are the:

Nihilists, who plan, think, philosophise and guide the Hand. Traditionally the leader of the Hand was a nihilist.

Brokers, to whom I was assigned, were the do-ers of the Hand. Lately they gained a lot of power internally because they advocated less philosophizing and more action. The current leader of the Hand is a Broker. I later found out that Aubrin was killed by the leader of the Brokers, a woman called Postrich.

Then there are the Assassins, when more direct action was required.

After two months I was formally inducted by means of a ritual. I was among a dozen others. During the ritual we poured our blood collectively into a cup and drank in turn. As I drank a brief and intense vision came to me: all of Barsaive spread out in front of me, as if I was watching it from a huge clifftop. The blood I was drinking reached out in a flash to form a jagged web, like interwoven lightning bolts, across all the land. That was when I saw first hand the extent of the Hand’s infiltration in all of society.

Following another month of learning the ropes I was assigned to a cluster working along the Serpent River. There was tension rising among t’skrang houses, and our job was to help it rise further. During this time we learnt that there was an old t’skrang swordmaster hiding in ruins somewhere, who some were calling the greatest swordmaster that ever lived. We (the Hand) tried to find him and kill him, but never succeeded. One of my suggestions was to try and mislead others who were looking for him, but I never got any feedback as to this endeavour’s success or failure.

Six more months passed. I was responsible for and party to many deeds of which I am not proud. Parents disowned their children, honest officials turned corrupt, violence was incited, famine was brought about through sabotage of trade. I also learned many things: the Hand is very old. The Therans do not seem to take it seriously, as they consider it a small cult. Throal, as we know, does not make this mistake. They are still years from reaching their ultimate goal (what this was I did not know at the time). Not all members of the Hand share the same goal, indeed, not all are aware of it. Some just enjoy the power. As we suspected, the Hand is responsible for the production of Mescal. What we did not know is that this process has something to do with horrors. I did not manage to find out more details, or the location of the production camp. The missing caravans of Daiche are the Hand’s doing too. The cult has allied itself with different heirs of the Bloodlores trolls – helping them continue fight each other so that the raids never stop.

I also found out that the head of the questors of Jaspree in Trosk is an infiltrator of the Hand. They were not privy as to his modus operandi, just that crops were failing, and that furthered the Hand’s cause. This was a particularly strategic situation because Trosk is the grain provider for much of the surrounding areas. Later news reached me that this agent died as a result of his ego, but I never managed to learn more.

It is at this time that I learn that the Hand’s main priority is to find and retrieve all the Books of Harrow. The seven books were written by a very powerful mage, who, in foreseeing the first Scourge, created pocket dimensions where he could experiment with Horrors – thus returning with information on how to defend ourselves from them. What the Hand want is to create such a pocket dimension, step into it while bringing another Scourge down on Barsaive, to then reclaim the world as their own.

The Hand have managed to find three Books of Harrow so far. When Aubrin mentioned that they were looking for a lost kaer he was a bit wrong – they were actually looking for the said mage’s lab where they hoped to find clues to help them decode the books (apart from whatever interesting items it may contain). In their search the Hand came across a term: Quellank, which they think is a reference to some place, person or landmark in the Misty Swamps, which may lead to another Book.

After a year and a half the t’skrang houses K’tenghin and Vistrimon are now at war. Internal shuffles see me promoted and reassigned to the Nihilists to work with Ianthe, a female wizard studying one of the books in the Hand’s possession.

Writing it, now, makes it look like a stroll in the park. Internal shuffle, indeed. All the time I spent in the Hand I was watching my back, constantly. At one point I discovered that my right hand agent was scheming to usurp me, thus taking my position. She was never seen again. Likewise I had to resort to less orthodox methods to rise in the ranks. It was the accepted way, best your elder and you deserve his position. The whole ordeal was doubly difficult in that I had a real secret to hide, and once a month I had to find a time and place to report back to Merrox.

Meanwhile I have been taught dark talents to carry out the Hand’s mission, among them the ability to create a rift in shadows to bridge to another place of my knowledge – as was done to me in Marrek. My spellbook has grown during this period too, the only tangible good thing to have happened. I also learn that the magical brand we share is some sort of thread, but nothing more. Information was distributed on a very need to know basis, and I did not. I did find out that Vistum is dead, caught in some treacherous act and summarily executed.

It was at this time that news reached me that the Hand were tracking some member of the Five Flames, as the Flames knew where one of the Books was. Two separate attempts to intercept were made, but the trail went cold. The Hand just found out that he was looking for someone, but not who this someone was. All I know is that in anger and retaliation Silas sent Absolution, an Assassin, to Laibayden to make an example. All are slain, their hands severed and tied to a pole in the centre of town.

During one of my monthly conversations with Merrox, he is agitated and orders me to flee as soon as possible. He wants me to steal the Book of Harrow that Ianthe was studying and take it to an address in Travar. The timing was right, as Ianthe and other high ranking Hand members had gone away for some business, leaving me practically alone with the Book.

I didn’t want to lose time. Without going to my chambers to collect any belongings, I created a rift in the lab’s shadows. Before stepping in I set fire to the room, making sure to douse the shelves and notes well. Grabbing the heavy tome, I stepped in the rift. Minutes later I emerged at a crossroads near Scavia. I headed towards town, seeking a mount.

A group of orc scorcher horses was tied outside an inn, with a lonely, seemingly junior, orc guarding them. I hid the book at the back of the inn and went inside. Quickly assessing the scene I found material for a fight, and using newly acquired talents pitched the scorchers and locals against each other. I stepped outside and told the guard that he was missing out. Not wanting to be left out he rushed in, weapon in hand. Not losing any more time I retrieved the book, hamstrung all horses but one and took off on it as fast as the beast would take me. Ever conscious of my (lack of) riding skills, I secured my body tightly around the horse and possessed it. With full control I could ride even faster, my only challenge being not to drop my body. I was sure that the scorchers would try and follow me, so I crossed a river, left the horse to graze and created another rift to a relatively short distance away, thus losing my trail. It was dangerous business stepping into shadows like that, and the more distance sought the higher the chance of getting lost in them.

After pushing on through night and day, begging or paying for passage on barges, avoiding main towns and almost starving, I arrived at the gates of Travar at nght. I took a circuitous route to the address given, feeling paranoid that I’d be caught at this penultimate stage of my mission. Finding the door, I knock, not too hard. As it swings open a mighty blow catches the back of my head, and I pass out.

When I come too I’m tied to a chair in the middle of a large room. Bright lights are arranged in a circular fashion all around me, pointing towards me. Arranged so they eliminated all chances of there being a shadow.

A hooded dwarf steps in the circle of light. Looking up, I see it’s Wolf. I ask him to untie him, I brought the book as instructed. He doesn’t budge. He starts questioning me. He says Merrox was an agent of the Hand, seeking to get more power internally by grabbing hold of a Book of Harrow. Was I working for him? I refute all his hypotheses, my intentions were always good. Evidently he doubts me, as he starts beating me and kicking me to the ground still tied to the chair, telling me I’m lying. He’s not satisfied until he’s cut off a finger, and, screaming in agony, I tell him to kill me there and then if he does not believe that I work for Throal. More must have been said and done, but the mind often chooses not to keep note of all that goes on when in such pain. What I do remember though, is that at one point he stopped, stood up straight with a grunt, and said, alright, it seems you are not working for the Hand.

He walks off and returns with a miniature chest. It looks like a remnant of a bygone age, beautifully crafted and ancient. It opens without a creak, and from it he produces a stained, dusty vial. The liquid inside seems to glow and swirl of its own accord. Here, he says, drink this. He helps it to my lips and I swallow without second thoughts. A burning sensation formed in my throat as I sent it down, settled in my stomach and grew. When it became almost unbearable it immediately stopped, replaced by an overwhelming sense of healing and well being. I looked at myself and could see that feeling go out to every limb, renewing my body as it went. My finger grew back, my scars disappeared, my skin looked fresh. Given a mirror I would have seen myself as the young man I was, rather than a travel-weary hardened adventurer. Given a mirror I would have seen myself with two eyes, instead of the solitary one I had grown accustomed to. I was a cauldron of emotions at that moment – joy, annoyance, anger, relief. At least he apologized, he had to make sure that I was not playing the two sides.

From the darkness Lau Ben stepped out. He must have witnessed the whole show. He greeted me warmly, and said that the forces of Throal are gathering strength in a secret location, we would be going to meet them. We left Travar and met up with Vin Namek, freelance troll pirate. His crystal raider ship took us with great haste back into the Blasted Lands, and stopped outside Black Rock Forge. I should have known.

And so it ended. I made myself some very powerful enemies, and I will not rest easy until the Hand is destroyed. It could have been easy for me to back out before any of this happened, but in doing so I would have turned away from the one chance we had to save all of Barsaive, and beyond, from the second Scourge being planned by the Hand.

To Vivaine & Back an Ivor adventure

That same night I grabbed my horse and rode off to the harbor hoping to find someone heading to Scavia and willing to take a passenger on board. Luckily, asking some bar owners and inn keepers, they direct me to “The Avatar”, a ship who will be passing from Scavia. I bargain for a safe passage both for me and the steed.

Once there I went around trying to acquaint myself and try to figure out how to reach Vivaine. Whilst asking around a merchant by the name of Sibaris offered me a map of how to reach a guard post situated close to Vivaine. I accepted and bought the map, however I had difficulty in orienting my self and so opted to search for a guide so as to lead me there.

I quickly understood that it was a dangerous road I was after, as everyone refused to lead me there, not even for a hefty some of money. I thought about who could be brave enough to lead me there, and thought that maybe hunters would! Being a nomadic village there were many hunters. I asked the first two that I found, but they did not know my language. Using the map and some money, as well as gestures we managed to agree for them to take me almost all the way to the borders of Vivaine, where there was a guard post. These two went by the name of Hack and Slash.

After two solid days of marching I slept heavily, totally exhausted by the travel. During the night Hack & Slash stole 100 Silver pieces from my pouch and vanished in the night. I woke up as the first rays of sun struck upon me like a spear piercing through the thick forestation. I promptly knew what had happened was furious with my self for being so negligent. Luckily I had hidden half my money in my boots.

The fact that they had stolen my money was not the major problem though; it was way much worse the fact that I was lost somewhere between Scavia and Vivaine. I picked up my stuff packed them on my steed and headed the possible way I was heading. After five days of roaming maybe in circles I finally see peaks. I open the map I had bought and on it I see the name Twilight Peaks written close to Vivaine. Fortunately I had been going in the right direction.

On the way there I meet a tribe of ork scorchers all painted blue. I stop by and ask for rations and directions. I am greeted and asked what I could give in return as payment, so I offer to use my forging skills as a weaponsmith and they accepted. They ask me to forge the blade of a large pole arm. I astonished by the appearance of such a large weapon step back but they reassure me and I get promptly on to my job. In the week I pass there I understand that not all ork scorchers are all out for violence killing and pillaging. This tribe named Naqut’taer is just a nomadic tribe that is mainly concerned towards surviving although they still are combat oriented their way of living displaced totally what had I thought of the orks.

For the service of forging and embellishing the pole arm Thul Nar a charmed adept offered to lead me as far as a river situated near Vivaine. Whilst with the tribe of the orks they also made me understand the art of riding and the handling of animals. They ride their steeds extraordinarily well some even without saddles. They see it as imperative for a being to learn how to ride, and so I opt to learn.

Thul Nar guides me to the river and shows me how to reach Vivaine. Four days pass and finally I reach Vivaine. This was where Oaki was last seen, with some luck he was still there and would welcome my arrival. Whilst going in to Vivaine I am stopped and questioned not knowing Theran I could understand nothing of what they wanted. The Theran guards called out for a guy waiting behind me to translate and so he does. They order for almost all my possessions to be confiscated. I try to offer money as compensation and instead leave me my hammer and the cockerel sword. All was futile as they took both the weapons and the money. Learning from the past I did not complain and handed over my possessions. Two nights in jail were more than enough for my likes.

I started roaming through the streets of Vivaine in search for this dwarf going with the name of Oaki. But since my mission had to remain secret I did not voice that name I opted to observe first to see who can and who cannot be trusted. Whilst roaming I stop at a smith and offer my skills in return for a meal and bedding. He accepts as it is what he can give me nothing else. He goes by the name of Thera-Thur but the people call him Thur. The Therans had forced his mother to call him that way. I spend a month doing odd jobs and acquainting myself with the surroundings as well as with the Barsavian people.

On one fine day I ask Thur about the dwarf named Oaki. He avoided the argument and quickly changed the subject. After some further two weeks I tried again but again he avoided the argument. I also did notice that Thur and the other “elders” did not go to the bar we on certain days. Clearly there was something odd about this. The day after I pressed Thur to tell me what was happening, but again it was all futile I had no success. That same night there was a knock on the door.

I opened to see who might he be and found Durustili a textile merchant there. He entered and asked me if I wanted to regain the stuff the Therans had confiscated me at the gates. I promptly nod in acceptance as revenge is best served cold. Durustili and I walk out in the shadow making as little noise as possible and avoiding the guards so as not to be spotted as we were clearly out after the curfew We arrive close to were the bastard Theran was staying. Durustili makes a gesture for me to stop and wait for his sign. I do as said and after a short while a small whistle is heard I run to him and arrive next to the door were the Theran guard was staying. Durustili dampened a piece of cloth in oil and brushed the pivots with it so as to avoid squeaking. He then took out some lock picks and opened the door.

He instructs me to walk up to the guard and kill him. So I do, with one decisive strike I bring the hammer down on his head cracking it open. We search in a chest for my stuff and find it there together with other pilfered stuff. I take my possessions and Durustili takes the rest of what is left.

We head out and go back to forge. A couple of days pass and I hear nothing about that night. So one day I opt to ask Thur, he bursts out when he hears me talk about the fact, he tells me to leave Vivaine and forget all about it. I insist and looking in my eyes he notices that he would not let this pass with out me getting on top of the matter.

Later that same day I am invited for dinner at Durustili’s home. I go and when there they take me through a tunnel that leads to what may be named as the resistance. I come to know that Oaki is held prisoner and he was the one to start this resistance.

We start off devising a plan so as to liberate him. The idea was to dress up as Theran enter the cells and liberate him whilst some kind of distraction is made on the outside so as to give us enough time to escape. We opt for a day which is a holiday for all Therans.

I start training their posture and attitude and go to the taverns they attended dressed as one of them so as to learn their accent and to make my face known. Some weeks pass by and the day comes. A fire was to be started about 15 minutes after we went in. I held Durustili as a prisoner, and started heading down towards were Oaki might have been. I went down with no problems at first until they asked me for the papers. There I was stunned I did not know what to do. But then I had an idea, I told him that I was new and that I would have gotten him the papers after I head thrown the prisoner to jail and questioned him.

Fortunately he gave me the keys and told me to go and be quick. I continued to move downwards whilst searching for Oaki. Going down to the last floor I come up to a door at the end of a corridor. I knock and ask to see Oaki. An ork guarding the door flinches when I mention the name. He asked me what business I had with Oaki, and I told him that I needed to question him. He didn’t want to let me in unless I had the papers. Then I told him that I had gotten them some good alcohol to celebrate such a great feast. As soon as he just opened the door Durustili slid in and gave me way to enter. We fought fiercely three orks and I got nearly killed. Durustili took out some potions from his vests and handed me some so as to recover some of my wounds, whilst others were held for Oaki. We rushed in, searching for him. We found him immediately he was badly ridden but with a potion he regained some footing and we started rushing back up. Whilst going up we heard some commotion denoting that the fire had started. We ran as fast as we could towards the roof. When finally there I created a bridge towards a nearby building and we crossed through. Allies were in the building adjacent waiting for us, ready to rumble.

We headed back to the sewers where the meeting place of the resistance was. When there Oaki questioned me to tell him who had asked for him to be released and why was he released. After trying to avoid it as much as possible I had to reveal both the name of Merrox and the purpose why he was freed. He chose to come with m. That same night we left the town of Vivaine and headed towards the forge he had to man.