SESSION 46B: INTO THE ASYLUM

December 22nd, 2009
The 25th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Elestra reached out to the memories of Zairic’s corpse through the Spirit of the City. In a horrible, gurgling voice Zairic’s head spoke from his own back.

“Where is Mahdoth?”

“In his chamber by the western cells.”

“Where are all the exits from the asylum?”

“Through the doors onto Childeyes Street. Down through the caverns. And through the walls.”

“Who is bringing the shipment?”

“The Children of Mrathrach.”

They looked at each other. “Math rack?” Elestra asked.

The question of who the Children of Mrathrach were ate away at them, but they needed to keep moving. Speaking with the corpse had taken ten minutes, and although that had afforded them the time to search the room and strip Zairic’s body (and, afterwards, stuff it into a bag of holding), they were now in enemy territory and the clock was ticking.

They proceeded cautiously through the rooms of the upper level to the staircase and then headed down. Convinced that dangers could lurk behind any door, Ranthir filled the air with arcane enhancements… only to find nothing but a storage closet behind the first door they tried.

When Ranthir tried casting another spell at the bottom of the stairs, he discovered that some active force was dampening his connection to the forces of magick. The spell was completely disrupted and lost. Experimenting, they discovered that effects that were conjured upstairs and then brought down into the field were fine, but any actual spellcasting on the lower levels seemed virtually impossible.

Faced with the decision of retracing the path they had taken with Danneth on their previous visit (which led east) and heading into unexplored territory through a southern door, their decision was informed by Zairic’s words: Mahdoth’s chambers lay near the western cells. They weren’t sure where those might be exactly, but they certainly weren’t to be found by going to the east.

So they headed south down a short hallway and into a comfortable, well-organized office with a pair of desks facing each other in the middle of the room and various filing shelves and the like arranged around the walls.

Tee quickly grabbed a stack of paper off one of the desks and quickly scanned it before handing it off to Elestra for further study.

SITUATIONAL REPORT ON DEREGALIS FINORIN

A series of correspondence, all attached under the title of A Situational Report on Deregalis Finorin.

Mahdoth—

The exacerbated excitations of Rinner Silverfind’s condition appear to be worsening rapidly. This in marked contrast to Tabaen and the other victims of the Oldtown event. I would urge you to prioritize his examination before the situation exceeds the limits of our control.

Danneth

Zairic—

Danneth brought this situation to my attention before his recent unpleasantness. Please conduct the appropriate observations to confirm his “urgings”.

Mahdoth

Master—

Although you are quite right not to trust anything to the word of that fool – and I am loath to do the same – in this matter I have found his suspicions to be quite correct, and beyond my personal measure of examination.

Zairic

Zairic—

My findings regarding the Silverfind case are quite alarming. There appears to be a sympathetic resonance between Silverfind’s excitations and the similar excitation of Deregalis.

Relocate Silverfind immediately to the antimagic containment cells. Increase the levels of sedation for Deregalis and immediately institute identical regimes for Silverfind.

Mahdoth

As Elestra read the situation report, Tee continued rifling the desks. Jimmying the lock on one of the drawers, she found detailed financial records. She thumbed through them long enough to notice that they went back about seven years. The first five years were all recorded in a single hand, but that changed about two years earlier. Then the handwriting changed again roughly a week ago (most likely because Zairic had replaced Danneth).

In the other desk, Tee found a hidden compartment. And inside that compartment she found Zairic’s spellbook. She took it over to Ranthir, who had been pouting over losing the spell he’d attempted to cast on Tor. “Does that make everything better?” she asked.

“It does!” he said, immediately looking immensely chipper.

The files lining the walls proved to be patient records. Following the paper trail from the situational report they had found on the desk, they pulled the patient records for Tabaen, Rinner, and Deregalis…

PATIENT RECORD FOR TABAEN FARSONG

This slim file contains the patient record for an elf named Tabaen Farsong. Tabaen was admitted on 9/15/790 and his record has been flagged as being “part of the Oldtown Incident”.

His condition is listed as “excitation of latent sorcery with a divinatory flavoring”. He is described as “non-dangerous”, but his condition is resulting in “psychological harm”.

On 09/19/790 there is an additional note: “Entered a comatose state.”

There has been no improvement in his condition since that date.

PATIENT RECORD FOR RINNER SILVERFIND

This slim file contains the patient record for a dwarf named Rinner Silverfind. Rinner was admitted on 09/15/790 and his record has been flagged as being “part of the Oldtown Incident”.

His condition is listed as “dangerous, uncontrollable excitation of latent sorcery with full-blown manifestation of arcane summonry”.

“The patient reportedly summoned a non-sortable variety of creatures at increasing rates of acclimation, but upon placement in the suppressive fields of the asylum the manifestations were brought under control. Unfortunately, the psychological trauma of the event has left the patient near-raving at all times – reporting voices, conspirators, and demons to be ‘locked in his cell’ with him.”

PATIENT RECORD FOR DEREGALIS FINORIN

This thick file contains the patient record for a human wizard named Deregalis Finorin. The file dates back almost twenty years, with an admission date of 04/28/771.

According to the records, Finorin suffers from an acute madness leading to the “perpetual casting and manifestation of powerful spells of arcane summoning”. The creatures resulting were both powerful and dangerous. Apparently the public believed him to have been executed years ago, but he was instead confined to Mahdoth’s.

Unfortunately, the “suppressive fields” of Mahdoth gradually “lost their effectiveness against this tumorous eruption of primal sorcery”, in ways that the asylum’s experts could not explain. Even moving Deregalis into an antimagic field had little effect: He continued to summon monsters.

Deregalis is now kept heavily sedated in a near-comatose state in a Special Isolation Spell to keep his powers from continually manifesting.

… and reading those gave them great cause for concern.

“The suppressive fields of Mahdoth?” Tee quoted.

“Does that mean that the suppressive fields down here emanate from him?”

“It’s possible,” Ranthir said.

Beyond the immediate danger of lowering those suppressive fields by killing Mahdoth, it served as a greater reminder that they were planning to wipe out the supervisory staff of an asylum full of mad arcanists.

“Who’s going to take over keeping them in line?” Tee asked. “Us? I don’t want that responsibility.”

Amidst much consternation they decided to pull back out of the complex. Instead of a scorched earth approach, they would severely limit the scope of their operation and content themselves with capturing the shipment before it could reach Wuntad’s hands.

“And kill Wuntad,” Elestra said.

“I don’t think he’ll be here,” Tee said.

“When you’re in charge of all the chaos cultists in Ptolus,” Tor said, “I think you can afford a few minions to pick up your mail.”

“Yeah,” Elestra said. “But he might be.”

“And then we kill him.” Tee agreed.

They briefly discussed the possibility of cleaning up the salon on the upper level so that Mahdoth would have no idea what happened to Zairic. But Ranthir didn’t have the proper spells prepared to make a quick magical job of it, so they decided it would cost them too much time to try to get the bloodstains out of the floor… and chair… and… well, everywhere.

They retreated through the windows, closed them behind them, and moved to the end of the Childseye Street dead-end loop to discuss their new plan of attack.

Running the Campaign: Speak with Dead SFX – Campaign Journal: Session 47A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 46A: AMONG MADMEN

December 22nd, 2009
The 25th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

It was mid-afternoon when they left the Necropolis.

“Should we head back to the Ghostly Minstrel or go straight to Mahdoth’s?” Elestra asked.

“Ghostly Minstrel,” Ranthir said. “We need to clean up. Besides, we still have several hours. And the Minstrel is on the way in any case.”

Agnarr grunted. “You need to clean up?”

Ranthir rolled his eyes. “Yes. I seem to be covered in some sort of black ooze. I wonder where it came from? Oh, right! My eyes and my mouth!”

THE BIG PLAN

Once they reached the Ghostly Minstrel they spent a few minutes cleaning up and then gathered back up for a planning session.

Their biggest concern was Mahdoth himself. They knew he was connected with both Wuntad and the Pactlords, which made him an obvious threat. And Ranthir knew enough about beholders from his studies in Isiltur to make them all worried: Eyestalks causing paralysis, searing pain, and even death, combined with a massive antimagic field emanating from its central eye that could unknit their strongest offensive weapons.

They laid out extensive contingency plans for dealing with the various eyestalks – restorative magicks, scrolls to re-enervate their flesh, various potions and enchantments to boost their natural resistances against its powers, and much more of the like. It would be expensive, but it was obviously a necessary expense.

“The ultimate problem, though,” Tor said, “Is that all of these precautions are magical. As soon as he puts the big eye on us, it all becomes useless.”

“We do have some non-magical solutions,” Ranthir said, pulling out the alchemical potions of questionable provenance they’d recovered from Ghul’s Labyrinth. “Who wants to go blind?”

“Do we know if his eyestalks will work in his own antimagic field?” Nasira asked.

“I don’t know,” Ranthir confessed.

“Then we should assume they do.” Tee grimaced.

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Elestra said.

From memory they sketched out a small map of the areas they had seen last time they had been at Mahdoth’s. But the truth was they had no idea how extensive the asylum complex was or how deep it might go beneath the streets of Ptolus.

To supplement their limited knowledge they considered using clairvoyance spells again, but they were concerned that defensive measures at the asylum might be triggered by their use.

Elestra tried to figure out how they could use her homunculi’s ability to pass seamlessly through earth and stone to scout out the complex, but since it was incapable of communicating anything of detail back to her that seemed for naught. Nasira, on the other hand, mentioned the possibility of scrying, but the limitations of the techniques available to her made it seem of little use, as well, until Ranthir combined the two plans: By affixing the scrying sensor to Elestra’s homunculi, Nasira would be able to watch the homunculi’s progress.

INFILTRATION BY FIRE

Eventually, feeling as prepared as they could perhaps hope for, they headed for Mahdoth’s around 9 pm.

On the way, however, they had time for further debate: Did they want to wait for the shipment to arrive and then ambush it? Or should they assault the compound immediately so that they wouldn’t have to fight both the asylum personnel and whoever came for the shipment at the same time?

“I think it’s six of one or half a dozen of the other,” Elestra said.

“I’ll take the six to one,” Agnarr said. “I like those odds.”

They all stared at him for a long moment.

“What?”

They settled on the immediate attack, which naturally opened the question of what their specific approach should be. They considered drilling down from street level into the staircase they knew led to the lower level (and which passed beneath the street). They also reopened the practicality of sending Elestra’s homunculi to scout (and, if so, where and when and how he should carry out the scouting).

Keeping the homunculi as an option, Elestra wrapped them in the camouflage of the city’s spirit. Keeping this camouflage-connection through physical proximity, they strung themselves out in a daisy-chain to allow Tee to get close enough to the building to scout the perimeter.

Through the simple expedient of looking through the windows, Tee confirmed that the street-level portion of the asylum (like the tip of the iceberg above its lower levels) was largely abandoned: Only Zairic – the halfling who had ratted them out to Mahdoth when they had come here at Danneth’s invitation – was to be found there, reading a book in a salon-like area towards the rear of the building.

Zairic looked like an easy target. Tee eased open a window at the opposite end of the room, carefully lowered her longbow into place, and… FIRED!

At the last possible moment, Zairic twisted aside so that the arrow lodged in his shoulder instead of his heart. Letting his book drop to the floor, Zairic vaulted over the high arm of his chair and jumped for cover. In mid-leap, he released a fireball through the window. Tee ducked down as the fiery inciting pellet passed over her head and avoided the brunt of it almost completely, but Elestra (standing in the open further down the alley) was caught by the edge of it.

Most of the others – clumped together across the street and still debating how they could (or would or should) use Elestra’s homunculi – missed the flash of the fireball. Fortunately, Ranthir – who was providing the daisy-chained camouflage near the mouth of the alley – recognized it for what it was. “Fireball!” he shouted, hurrying into the alley.

Zairic called out from behind the chair. “Who are you? Do you know who you anger tonight?!”

Tee didn’t bother to answer him. She vaulted herself through the window and skipped across the room, loosing another arrow that thumped into the high back of the chair.

Zairic wrenched her first arrow out of his shoulder, gulped down a healing potion, and made a break for the door. Elestra, cursing the burns from the fireball, threw open another window to the room and fired her dragon rifle at him. The blast missed narrowly, scorching the wall.

Zairic, in mid-stride, ripped a scroll from an inside pocket of his cloak and gestured through the window towards Elestra. The others were just arriving at her side, and they were all caught in a pounding, painful hail of dagger-like ice that plunged down from the sky.

Tee, deciding to fight ice with fire, dipped her hand into her bag of flames and hurled a fire elemental at the Halfling. Distracted by the fiery sprite, Zairic made an easy target for her as she plunged her dagger into his shoulder and re-opened the magically healed wound from her arrow.

Zairic cursed loudly. Wrenching himself free from her blade he cast another spell, sending his body into a rapid, cascading shift between reality and the Ethereal Plane. “You’ll die tonight!”

“You’re the only one dying tonight!” Tee shouted. “We’re happy to speak with the dead!” Her expert eyes were tracking his skittering, shifting, flickering form.

“I’ll speak with your corp—“

The halfling gurgled and collapsed. Tee’s arcing blade had ripped through half his neck. As his body fell forward, his head fell back upon a flap of flesh and landed upright on his back.

“That’s disgusting,” Elestra said, climbing through the window.

Running the Campaign: Ex Post Facto Roleplaying – Campaign Journal: Session 46B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 45C: LONG REIGN OF THE SUN

October 31st, 2009
The 25th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

After several long minutes, the homunculus emerged from the cloud of black pollen that blotted out much of the hill. They waited the better part of half an hour for the last of the poisonous vapor to blow away.

Mounting the hill again, they easily reached its apex. Set into the ground at the center of the stone circle they found a large iron plug etched with bronze and set into the earth. The bronze etching detailed Alchestrin’s sigil. Around the perimeter of the plug was an inscription written in characters Ranthir identified as ancient Arathian. With the aid of a spell he was able to translate the passage:

Forevermore shall the sun be my foe.

From its light I pass forever.

The doors of my realm shall not open as long as its reign lasts.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Tor asked.

“That we can’t get in unless it’s night?” Tee said. “Yeah. I think so.”

Indeed, the plug wouldn’t move. Ranthir tried bathing the area in a magical darkness and they experimented with other coverings to block the sunlight, but none of it worked. Elestra then tried to send her homonculus down into the ground, in an effort to circumvent the plug, but they weren’t able to clearly communicate with it or determine if it had found anything.

Eventually they hunted down a shovel from a gravekeeper a fair distance away. Returning to the hill they dug down around the edges of the iron plug, only to find that it was set into a smooth-faced iron shaft that also resisted their efforts to penetrate it.

Meanwhile, Ranthir was examining the magical guards laid upon the plug. Eventually he concluded that their initial suspicions had been correct: Only at night could the plug be opened. The spell was ancient, but still potent – only a powerful wish would remove the plug.

“So when we get the wish spell from Rehobath do we use it on the sealed door at the Banewarrens?” Elestra asked. “Or do we use it here?”

“I think we need to use it at the Banewarrens,” Tor said. “We know how to get through this plug. We just have to wait for dark. But there may not be any other way through the sealed door.”

“Except the key,” Tee said.

“A key that may not exist any more. Or that we may never find.”

They debated staying until nightfall and then going into the tomb. But there was trepidation about staying in the Necropolis after dark without proper preparations.

And then Tee realized that they couldn’t stay: The note they had discovered in the Temple of the Rat God describing some sort of shipment at Mahdoth’s Asylum was dated for midnight. They couldn’t afford to be trapped inside the Necropolis while that kind of known activity was happening.

“We were just deputized, after all.”

Running the Campaign: Agenda Pressure – Campaign Journal: Session 46A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 45B: UPON A HILL OF CORPSE FLOWERS

October 31st, 2009
The 25th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

HOMUNCULI OF THE CITY

They wanted to get an early start the next day, but Elestra was still immersed in her meditations. And Tor had his training at the Godskeep. On the way there, Tor spontaneously decided to stop and purchase a bull whip. He had a few ideas for how it might come in useful.

While they waited for Tor to return, Tee grabbed the morning newssheets. The Columned Row Killer had struck again, but this time it had been seen in the act: A “tall, muscular creature with blue-black skin, glowing yellow eyes, and lanky black hair” had attacked a merchant passing through the Old City Gate. The creature had been driven off by the city guard, but not before leaving its victim in paralytic coma.

With a sinking feeling in their hearts, they recognized the description: It was the troll-spawn that had been freed from the Banewarrens. An evil that had been locked away for centuries now walked the streets of Ptolus.

Agnarr was also able to pick up the mage-touched chain that Hirus had been working on for Seeaeti. While the others discussed the troll-spawn, he took Seeaeti out near the Minstel’s stables and spent some time training him in the wearing of the mail.

Around noon, Tor returned to the Ghostly Minstrel and they went upstairs to check on Elestra. They found her missing: Her communion with the Spirit of the City had taken her on a walk-about through the streets of Ptolus, collecting bits of brick and rough cast which she eventually took to the heart of Midtown and there assembled into a geometrically fractal cairn. This final act of symbolic linkage complete, the cairn had risen up as the animated extrusion of the Spirit itself: A homunculus of the city.

Elestra returned to the Ghostly Minstrel and introduced the others to her new companion. They gathered in the common room for lunch and then left for the Necropolis.

POLLEN PLAGUE

With the information Ranthir had retrieved from the Administration Building on the 22^nd they found the tomb easily enough. Near the apex of a gently sloping hill (which Ranthir’s papers named Darklock Hill) they spotted several stone sarsens jutting up from the ground, forming a rough and imperfect circle. Each of the sarsens bore the sigil of Alchestrin and were worn with age and crept-over with moss. The grass had grown tall around them, and here and there even taller plants had sprung up with broad, shiny leaves and brightly-colored flowers. More disturbingly, they could see the corpses of small animals scattered here and there around the sarsens.

A faint whiff of pungent decay wafted down the hill towards them, but they decided to brazenly ignore the animal carcasses and head straight up the hill towards the sarsens. As they drew near the circle, they could see in its center a large iron plug etched with bronze and set into the earth.

Before they could actually enter the circle, however, Agnarr spotted dark scales slithering through the grass – marking the passage of a massive, coal-black serpent with scales that glimmered like black ice beneath the stars. In its wake, it left a thin veil of frost upon the grass. At nearly twenty feet in muscle-rippled length, it must have been wrapped around one of the sarsens to escape their notice. Now it reared up, gaping a mouth from which issued faint plumes of glittering, icy mist.

Tor and Agnarr moved forward to meet the serpent, but as they did so a sudden nausea settled over the group. The serpent must have been exuding some sort of disquieting aura or perhaps noxious fumes. The effect only seemed to intensify as it focused the gaze of its coal-black eyes upon Nasira, locking her in a paralytic gaze that stopped her stone cold.

The nausea, which sent Tor reeling, disrupted their concerted attack and Agnarr – although largely unaffected – found himself getting bound in its icy, limb-numbing coils. Before the serpents’ tightening curves could draw tight, however, Agnarr was able to stretch his mighty thews and break free, sending the serpent spasming away.

But then the real panic set in as Tor started coughing up black blood and oozing black blood from his eyes. The symptoms of the others were beginning to worsen as well, and with only Agnarr fit to face the serpent, it seemed unlikely that its threat would be ended before they were all unconscious or dead or worse.

Fortunately, Tee – trying to suppress a cough that seemed as if it would rip out her lungs – spotted one of the tall, brightly-colored flowers turning towards them with an almost sadistic purpose. Making an intuitive leap she realized that the flowers – not the serpent – were the true source of the noisome plague. She shouted out a warning to the others while lurching towards the nearest flower, but her weakly-swung sword failed to produce any effect on its thick, armored stalk as she collapsed.

Ranthir and Elestra, meanwhile, managed to retreat to a safe distance. Near the foot of the hill they discovered that they were beyond the plague-pollen of the flowers. With her lungs almost immediately alleviated, Elestra sent her homunculus to start hauling people to a safe distance.

Then Agnarr managed to finally plunge his flaming sword down the icy throat of the ebon snake. Wrenching his blade free he swung it towards the nearest corpse flower, but as he hacked it apart the flower exploded in a massive cloud of poisonous vapor and pollen – a visible blackening of the air that seemed to cling to skin and eyes, clawing its way through mouth and nose and down into the lungs.

Agnarr (at the heart of the explosion) and Ranthir (caught unexpectedly in its edge) collapsed. Elestra, in a panic, rushed in to heal the badly wounded Agnarr… and promptly collapsed from the pervasive pollen of the remaining flowers.

Thus all of them were unconscious upon the flanks of the hill, their bodies being slowly consumed by the plague pollen.

Fortunately, the homunculus continued carrying out its last orders: To carry the unconscious to the base of the hill and out of the pollen cloud. Several of those who were hopelessly ill before managed to recover once they were taken far enough away from the flowers and they were able to tend to the rest.

Once everyone had been restored to at least a semblance of health, they backed off to an even safer distance and then sent the homunculus to kill the rest of the flowers.

Running the Campaign: Monster + Environment – Campaign Journal: Session 45C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 45A: BY COMMISSAR’S DECREE

October 31st, 2009
The 24th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

They emerged from the incense-drenched depths of Porphyry House into the surreal, sunlit streets of Ptolus.

Still gasping for breath, they decided to return to the Ghostly Minstrel, regroup, and recoup.

But when they arrived, the watchman from the Delvers’ Guild station who had been intermittently harassing them since Ranthir’s encounter with a shivvel addict was waiting for them in the lobby. For the first time, they learned his name – Marco – and he asked them to come to the watch station with him.

It seemed like an innocent enough request, so they readily agreed. Marco escorted them to the station and then to a small room near the back of the building. Then he left them alone.

“What’s going on?” Nasira asked.

“Are we being arrested?”

“Should we try to escape?” Tor said.

“We haven’t done anything wrong!” Elestra said.

“Well… we have killed some people,” Nasira pointed out.

“And Tee has all of that illegal shivvel in her bag of holding.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be discussing it here,” Tee said, gritting her teeth.

THE COMMISSAR’S DEPUTIES

A young woman with short-cropped red hair and wearing a signet with the Commissar’s seal stepped into the room. She introduced herself as Carrina.

“I’m glad you could come here today,” she said. “The Commissar appreciates all of the work and sacrifices you have made for this city.”

“Happy to oblige,” Tor said.

“As your recent actions in the Temple District suggest, you’re already familiar with the recent surge in cultist activities within the city,” Carinna continued.

“Intimately so,” Tee said.

“Just so,” Carrina smiled thinly. “That’s why the Commissar has chosen to deputize you to investigate the cultist activity.”

“We’re already doing that,” Elestra blurted.

“Then it should be no great hardship to do it in the Commissar’s name,” Carrina said. “You will each be paid 75 gold pieces a month, with additional bonuses to be paid at my discretion for tangible results.”

“What sort of results?” Tee said.

“I leave it to your imagination,” Carrina said. “I expect regular reports.”

“How do we contact you?”

“Through Marco here at the watch station.” Carrina pulled out an official-looking piece of parchment and handed it to them: It was an official decree by the Commissar enforcing their deputization and empowering them to act as such.

They didn’t really seem to have much choice in the matter. And although the government pay was clearly meager, it was money for doing something they were already committed to. So they started briefing her; rapidly filling her in on all of the major cult hotspots they were aware of around the city.

“Excellent,” Carrina said. “When can you start dealing with them?”

After some soul-searching, they decided to also brief her on the Banewarrens. If nothing else, they suspected that the Pactlords were another cult and, thus, under the purview of their commission.

Carrina had known nothing about the Banewarrens, but she listened carefully to their report. (Which, truth to be told, was not entirely complete. They edited carefully around the involvement of Rehobath and the Inverted Pyramid.) When they were finished, she promised to report the matter back to the Commissar. “Certainly if you think it to be a cult-related threat, you should act on it as quickly as possible.” But beyond that she saw little reason for panic: It was hardly the first vault of powerful artifacts to be found beneath the streets of Ptolus. Nor was it likely to be the last.

SOMETHING STIRS…

After the shellacking they had received in Porphyry House, they decided that they would spend the next day resting and recuperating. Their stores had been badly depleted and they had some deep bruises to heal.

They also agreed that a return to Porphyry House – particularly a Porphyry House likely to be armed and alerted – was beyond their present resources. So they decided to turn their attention back to the Banewarrens: They would pursue their leads to Alchestrin’s Tomb.

Ranthir, delighted at the down time, retreated to his room and his tomes.

Elestra, still mourning the loss of her python viper, retreated to her own room to begin a long communion with the Spirit of the City in the hope that she might be granted a new companion through whom the city’s voice could be heard and its will made manifest.

Tee spent the afternoon hocking their loot. Nasira tagged along with her and they spent the next few hours chatting amiably. In the evening they retired to the Ghostly Minstrel and Tee offered to teach her the game of Dragonscales. (Tee’s thoughts turned for a moment to Dominic with a sad sense of loss: She missed playing the game with him.)

Midway through their series of training games, however, they abruptly realized that the tiles had spelled out the words SOMETHING STIRS. This was not entirely unusual, but as the game continued the phrase appeared again… and again…

Tee cleared the board and they began a new game… SOMETHING STIRS.

They paused and considered their options. Tee tried manipulating the other tiles in various ways to explicate the message (“What stirs?” and so forth)… but then the message stopped occurring altogether.

Running the Campaign: Recognition as Reward – Campaign Journal: Session 45B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index