The Dream Quest - Epilogue, Part I

Exhausted, the not-Forgotten stepped through the archway into the light. They and their incarnations were unprepared for the sight that awaited them on the other side. The large black iron artifact floating above a dais was only one of the odd aspects of the room. The eight dwarves, also floating, sitting in a rough circle around the artifact, their beards reaching the floor, nails following close behind, were also not “business as usual”. Thanks to years of dungeoneering however, the walls covered in intricate, metal-inlaid, runes and the crazy Cyricist, bloody dagger in hand and dwarf number nine at her feet with her coterie of summoned devils were more in-line with their expectations. Still, even these staples were somewhat odd. The devils were milling in a pack in a corner of the room seemingly trying to melt into the walls while the dwarves seemed unfazed by their comrade’s death.

The cultist seemed to not have noticed the party’s entrance and was addressing the dwarven swamis, “… even your own people have forgotten you. Face it, you’re relics and the keyshard will be mine. Stop delaying the inevitable and we’ll make your deaths quick. It’s better than what my lord probably has in mind for you.”

The dwarves remained impassive, but a united group of voices filled the room, “Young fool. Moradin provides. Even now, a group of heroes approaches and, with your pets declawed, your failure is at hand.”

Immediately, the heroes sprang forward, the Healer/Rashek and Autumn/Summer charging the cleric. Bound by whatever infernal magic had summoned them, the devils tried to interpose themselves between the adventurers and the Cyricist, but it soon became apparent that something was preventing their attacks from piercing skin.

Out of breath and having somehow disentangled herself from the fight, the Guardian’s mother snapped at her succubus servant, “Get me out of here! Now!” With obvious reluctance, the creature spoke aloud in its infernal tongue and touched the cleric.

“Nooo!” screamed Autumn/Summer as her nemesis faded away and the Fey/Wizard blew the offending creature apart.

“Don’t worry about it love,” said the Guardian/Stavros.

“Yah! With what we told the townspeople…” the Mouth/Siv started.

“… I wouldn’t be surprised if they welcomed her with torches and pitchforks,” Laurelian/Div finished with a smirk.

“Thank you warriors,” intoned the disembodied voices, “but if the madwoman spoke true, this is likely only the beginning and only a matter of time before Cyric’s servants take this keyshard.”

The Fey/Wizard smiled and made appeasing gestures with her hands, “Fear not, revered elder, although the Dragon Coast is nominally out of our jurisdiction, I’m sure I can convince my superiors to set up a permanent guard in the old holds above. We’ll also try to start talks with nearby dwarven clans to see if we could actually just restore the halls to their original purpose.”

Even as the conversation continued, the scene around the Forgotten, including their assumed personas, melted away.

To be continued…

Letters to Sypha, 5th Journal, 2nd Letter

My beloved,

When my father visited me a few days ago I was reminded how eladrins can be cruel in their judgement. As I was catching up with my father, he made a passing comment saying the realm was a «drab plane». It was a innocent remark and I am sure he didn’t mean harm. When I heard him say these words part of me cringed because, even if I will always call Summer my home, I feel contected to this realm. It is part of my heritage. It sometimes feels like the exposure to the magnificience of Summer and the feywild has dulled the senses of Eladrins to a point they only find dispointment outside of the splendors of their homeland. But is the starry night sky worthless but for the handful of its brightest stars?

But you are not like the others, my love… You see beauty in all things. This is what drawn me to you. You see beauty even in the humblest of all, in the commoner, the orphan, the half-breed, the pariah… …in me. Sypha, you found beauty in me at a time I was feeling nothing but contempt for myself. I will forever be thankful for your loving eyes, for it is through them that I came to accept who I am.

I won’t lie, I can still be quite judgemental of myself but also of others. However, I do strive to see the world as you see it. I rarely come accross something so foul, be it a person or a place, that is has not some redeeming quality. Where one would see an unkempt peasant, I also see a good father hard working for its family susbsistance. Where another would see a savage barbarian, I also see a courageous warrior, proud of the glory of his clan. To my eye, a barren tundra is but the perfect canvas for the snow’s immaculate purity.

I have now spent a week with my new companions and I am now confortable enough to share with you my first impression of them. It is always a perilous exercise to form an opinion on someone based on limited information so I will try my best to be even-handed in my appraisal.

Let me begin with the Mouth, the self-styled rapscallion and bard, thought the latter is a bit of a presumptuous statement on his part. He is capable musician to be certain but it takes more than that to be a bard. Can you call anybody who wields a sword a warrior? His dextrous fingers makes up for any flaws with his technique but there is something much more important that is missing. He has yet to find a muse. What’s a bard without a source of inspiration? If one day he finds one, he might be able to transform his pleasing melodies into something that truly touches the soul.

Thought I might sound harsh in my critique, it is because I feel there is so much potential in him. With dedication and under the right tutelage, he could easily become a bard of great reknown. However, he seems fairly content to coast on his natural talent. But maybe I am being unfair, maybe his true calling lies on the battlefield. It takes a special kind of man to launch himself in the thick of battle with blades shorter than the claws of most beasts of the feywild! And it takes an extraordinary one to be able to do it and yet come out of it unscathed! With daggers, the man is truly peerless. Every movement is calculated to minute detail and delivered with implacable precision and celerity. Like the bard needs its muse, the duelist needs a rival to invigorate him. I look forward the opportunity of seeing him in action some more and maybe pick-up a maneuver or two to add to my own repertoir.

Mouth is not like any drow I have ever encountered so far. When I mentioned to the group that my love was waiting for me in my homeland I would have expected a drow to scoff and make some disparaging remark. Mouth beamed at me and gave me a heartfelt congratulation. It was not some mischievous flattery, I got the sense he was genuinely touched by the fact we would remain true to one another despite being separated for so long. I have seen Mouth interact with his companions, he deeply cares for them. They are family to him and he will defend them till his last breath. He is ready to dwell in the shadows to guard them of what lies in the darkness. Behind Mouth’s flamboyant attitude, lies a delicate heart.

Then there is the Fey, which I already mentioned in my first letter to you. Ah… Quite a seductress she is! The woman’s pulchritude is a match for any of Summer’s beauties, but alas, she has not been blessed with any of their grace… Free spririted to a fault, self-centered and haughty in demeanor, she embodies all the foible typicly associated with the Eladrins and takes them to new extremes.

Of all the members of the forgotten, I have spent the most time with Fey so far. Unlike some of her companions, the Fey had no qualms, right from the start, in discoursing with the stanger that I was. She is not of the shy type that is certain! This worked in my favor for I was able to learn a lot on the forgotten through our conversations.

The Fey used this opportunity to size me up and started leering at me. (Now that I think of it, I think caught a hint of apprehension (or was it jalousy?) in Mouth’s eye when he realized that the Fey was looking at me with her flirtatious glare.) While the Fey would have been amongst the fairest that have been guilty of this, it is not entirely uncommon that I draw such attention from the womenfolk. I normally feel unconfortable when this occurs, but when she looked at me like that, I was completely taken aback and overwhelmed by an intense feeling of revulsion. It is the first time I reacted like that and I can’t explain it… It is like my unsubconsious knew something was wrong… I did not know how to react so I instinctively did what I normally do in such situation, I said was flattered but I that I was commited to a woman from my homeland. Luckly that did not seem to endanger the sympathy she had for me and our conversation carried on as if nothing had happened.

We spoke at lenght of the predicament of the Forgotten. In contrast with some of her other companions, the Fey seems quite content with her new life. She says she does not wish her old self interfere to what she has become. I cannot understand her stance on the matter… Does not she care for the friends and family that she might be leaving behind? Does she not think of them and their grief?

The Fey and I do not agree on a lot of things but our discussions have been civil and enjoyable. But for all the exchanges that I had with her, I know precious little on her motivations. If she doesn’t care about her past self, why does she choose to share the destiny of the forgotten instead abandonning them and try to make it out on her own? Staying with them is bound to inexorably draw her closer to her old life. Just recently she learned that she was the Goddaugther of the Lord of the Hunt! Yet, contrary to what she feared, it does not seem learning about her heritage changed her the slightest. She remains the Fey, fickle like a feather in the wind…

The Guardian and the Healer are two special cases. I found them to be rather untalkative. Only the Mouth seems to be able to get a word out of either of them. Hence, I got to know about them throught the words of their comarade rather than from their own.

There is a trichotomy in the Guardian. First there is sullen and brooding guardian, which is probably his prevalent statement of mind. This guardian seems quite content enjoy a moment of solitude a bit away from the group, be it to do his gruelling daily exercise routine or to tend to the maintenance of his weapon and armor. Then there is the merry guardian, which I caught a glimpse of during our stay in Nesmé. This is the guardian that lets himself get dragged in the Mouth’s gambling and drinking escapades. His intimidating presence alone will make anyone think twice about resolving to violence should they find themselves on the losing end of a game of chance with Mouth. And finally there is the ferocious guardian, throwing himself in battle with fierce abandon. Through my years of travel I have forged myself into an adept duelist but even if we were to fight a thousand duel, I doubt I could best the dwarf a single time. There is no worst match-up for my style of combat, which rely heavily on feints, deceptions and finesse. How can you trick someone who completely surrender its mind to bloodlust? He will just walk right into your trap, bare through the pain and make you pay twice as dearly. For as long as the Guardian stands, the Forgotten are safe…

The Healer is austere in manner as you would expect from priest of Kelemvor. Of all the forgotten, I think the Healer has the most normal reaction to his predicament. The drow is consumed by the quest to reclaim his lost identity. I have heard from the others that the group missed an opportunity to learn more about their prior lives during a recent encounter with the Lord of the Hunt because of the stubborness of the Fey. The Healer visibly still bears a grudge towards her and will avert his eyes in her presence. Providence has been unforgiving to the forgotten, but the man of the robe can always find some measure of solace in his piety.

Last but not the least is Autumn. A later addition to the group, the young woman does not suffer from the condition of her comrades in arms. She tied her fate to theirs by her own free will, for better or worst. Althought she has been raised by her father in a city, she can trace back her lineage to the tribes living in the forest in the north of Luruar. She still very much have a primal streak to her, despite being brought up in the confort of civilization. I have been assisting her in her foraging duties and I can tell you that nobody follow tracks or drives games like Autumn. Her skill would put to shame the hunters of her grand-father’s tribe! However, from what I have seen so far, when swords clashes and her life and those of her friends are in danger, she can become nervous and ineffectual. In these moments, I can clearly see in her eyes that she is riddled with self-doubt. She is so young and show such promises! She shouldn’t be tormenting herself so.

Autumn first welcomed my addition to the group with a mix of trepidation and guarded curiosity but she has been quickly warming up to me as the days passed by. The thrill of making a friend seem to have prevailed over the anxiety having a stranger in her midst. We had time to bond during our foraging excursions and she has started to open up more and more around the campfire. She might be getting even a bit… too confortable! Just yesterday, she suggested that we compare battle scars, an offer I respectfully declined, much to her chagrin.

It sometimes feels that, even thought she has known the Forgotten for longer, she is more at ease with me than with them. I can’t be certain why it is so, but I have an hypothesis. I sense that she still feels as an outsider. I can empathize with her since it is a feeling I only know too well from my youth in Summer. It’s easy to see why she would feel as such. The Guardian and the Healer are distant by nature, the Fey will at times openly treat her with disdain and the Mouth will alternate in between being flirtatious toward her and being irritated by her quirks. Even thought they probably care for her more than they are willing to show, it is hardly a vigorous endorsement… This leaves Autumn yearning for the acceptance the Forgotten are unwilling to profess… In contrast, I have readily provided her with mine, totally and unconditionally.

As much as I been enjoying Autumn’s company, her vivaciousness never failing to bring me a smile, this budding frienship comes with its… disadvantage. When I am trying to have some privacy, seeking to sooth my soul playing the hymms of my homeland, Autumn will come see me between two songs and try to cheer me up. It puts me in a difficult position because, even thought I would rather be left alone, I know she means well. I won’t dare show any signs of aggravation for fear to hurt her feelings. So I had an idea, I offered to teach her how to play the flute. She enthusiastically took me on on my offer. She is a bit clumsy but she is a very eager student and she is making steady progress. My hope is that, in time, we will be able to share a moment of tranquility together, craddled only by the soft notes dancing in the wind…

I cannot possibly comprehend what afflicts the Forgotten but I can’t help but feel that their «curse» portend an ill omen. Their purpose may be ominous yet I see beauty in the Forgotten.


A Coincidence... Probably
Laurelian's First Fluffy Bounty

After finishing his letter to Sypha, sitting in a common room in Nesmé, Laurelian thinks of the events of the past few days and wonders again at how quickly his life can be turned upside down. He thinks of his father’s recent visit, of the day he left the only home he had ever known and, finally, of the day he discovered he was adopted. He remembers how he cried that day and how his father tried to console him. He also remembers how he pleaded with his father to be told who his real parents were and what had happened to them. With a sorrowful look, the already-old man had taken Laurelian on his knee and answered softly: “I am sorry my son, but that is beyond my ken.” At Laurelian’s reproachful and disbelieving look, he sighed and added:
“Truly, few and far between are the things which can escape my arcane gaze, but I have looked many times into your lineage and always am I blocked by a sort of veil. I cannot say for certain, but I believe an other power is interfering…”

How had he not thought about this when he had been told of the Forgotten and why had his father not spoken of the similarities or differences?

To Nesmé

After defeating the owlbear, the Forgotten make their way into the giant, hollowed-out beanstalk. Within it, they find a relatively strange scene: around the creatures makeshift nest lay hundreds of eggs in all shapes and sizes petrified by the ages. With their combined knowledge, the party is able to identify some valuable pieces including a pentad of dragon eggs which, in total, should bring roughly 26 000 gold pieces from the right buyer. Also within the stalk, the group finds an archway filled in with a bas-relief of a riverside city. Laurelianexplains that laying one’s hand on the image will transport one to the site of an ancient fallen elven city on the edge of what is now Luruar ‘s Evermoors, a large, giant infested, swamp. Thankfully, the giants seem to avoid the site. Within a couple of hours walk, the party should be able to reach Nesmé, a large fortified town, well-known for the quality of it’s steel.

Some DM stuff:

  • Nesmé doesn’t appear on the map, but it is right near the fork in the Surbin River above the Evermoors.
  • Unless you try to get fancy, with a bit of Mouthy legwork, you should be able to find a travelling merchant willing to take your eggs to Silverymoon for 26K.
  • In light of Nesmé’s specialty, many wizard-enchanters have settled there. You can purchase any common or uncommon metal weapon or armor of up to level 10;
    • You can also get most common items of up to level 9 without any difficulty;
    • Anything else needs to go through me.
  • If you’d like to do something in Nesmé that doesn’t include the group, you need to let me know before Friday.
Letters to Sypha, 5th Journal, 1st Letter

My beloved,

More than eight long years have passed since you last held me in your warm embrace. While this span of time is but a season for an eladrin, for me, this feels like an eternity. As I put my feelings to paper once more, I am conforted to know that, as I write this, my father has handed over to you my first four traveling journals. My truest wish is for this fifth journal to be my last and, Sune willing, that I give you this one myself.

I often dream of Summer when I sleep. I dream of the gentle strolls we used to take through the palace’s gardens, of the serenades I sang to you under the shade of our favorite willow tree… I also dream of my father. I dream of him lecturing us about the ways of magic, experiencing his teachings with the same sense of wonderment as I did back when I was young. A few days ago, I vividly heard his voice beckoning me as I was dreaming. I almost dismissed it as being just a figment of my imagination but I know father’s power are vast and that it was well within his capacity to contact me from such distance. I followed the instructions he gave me and lo! Before I knew it, I was in his presence!

8 long years away from my homeland, away from you and my father… 8 years of blood and sweat and tears… In a bat of an eye, all my sorrow, all my sadness were washed away. I was reunited with father and he was bringing me tidings from home! When he told me that distance and time had not dimmed your love in the sligthest, I could not hold back my tears. In my heart, I always knew but… I must confess that in the past they were time, moments of weakeness when the loneliness was too much to bare, that I let doubts creep about. What if she moved on? What if she forsaken me? I cannot thank father enough from freeing me from these evil thoughts for good. My heart now unburdened from such distractions, my resolve has been embolden to greater heights.

Father had not sat idly during my exile. Our lone ally in this ordeal, he has been actively working to see us reunited. However, he informed me that some sort of powers were obscuring his divinations and he needed my help. From his research, he discovered that a group of adventurers were somehow linked to this problem in a way that was not apparent to him. He tasked me to investigate them on his behalf.

Father had arranged for me to meet the group at a place of his choosing. I found the group was hard battling a foe of which I had never seen but I had heard much about. It was a beholder, the infamous bane of adventurers. Now I know first hand while they they hold this title! It was as close a battle as I been since the beginning of my adventuring career. On an other day, the fiend might have prevailed but your love inspired me in this trying time and we managed to eek out a victory. I had failed my entrance but I held my own and hopefully managed to make a good first impression. I was worried on how the group would react once the fiend was dispatched. Outnumbered and left completely exhausted from the battle, I was in no position to retaliate if the group turned hostile. My fear proved unfounded as one of their member, an eladrin lady going by the name of the Fey, rewarded my intervention on their behalf by surprising me with a kiss on the lips! I nervously laughed off this inappropriateness and proceeded to proprerly introduce my self to the group, which calls itself the Forgotten.

I was figuring my task to be quite straight forward. I would find their employer and report back to father. I was not ready for I was about to hear. Father had told me they were that their minds had been pilfered and left riddled with holes and that none of them had ever heard of us. It appeared that was quite an understatement. Their memories had been stripped bare and were of little help in determining their connection to my father divination problem. If they are the puppet from some higher power, it seems they are playing the part unbeknownst to them. I have a feeling that the power that is the cause of their predicament is the same that troubles father. I will have to try to extand my sejourn in their group longer than I anticipated to find out.

Luckly, father had foresaw the possbility of a extanded stay and had the means to make me a palatable long-term ally. Before he bid me farewell, he left me Trynian Jack’s Wayjournal, which pershaps you have heard of before. This journal is a record of every portal and fey crossroads he encountered on his legendary travels. Most of them have been either damaged or rerouted when the weave fell apart, but I have already started re-cataloguing them during my travels and I am quite familiar with their inner workings. Furthermore, father highlighted or corrected some of the still functioning ones. This knowledge will hopefully will convince the group to let me hang around with them longer.

For the moment, at least, the Forgotten needed me to exit the tomb they were trapped in. I followed the instructions from Tryanian Jack wayjournal and away we were making our escape via a giant bean stalk. We discovered that this fey crossroad’s guardian was a ravenous owlbear. The beast was not interested in barter! We bested it but I got careless as the battle drew to a close and got knocked down cold. My fate was left in the hand of the Forgotten. They could have left me to die right here and there, looted my belongings, leaving my body as food for the stirges. Instead, they helped me up without an afterthought.

I know a lot of trials lies ahead of me but, for the first time since I left Summer, prospects are looking up. I know that, from this moment on, each passing day is bringing me closer to you.


Autumn's Log

By Autumn
Date unknown

After swiftly dodging the giants in the field, Saturly lead our group to his Lord’s abode. When we finally arrived, we were in awe as we looked upon the magnificence of the structure in front of us. The best description I could come up with to describe is to say it looked like some sort of log cabin, but I’ve never seen one so large. The cabin was truly majestic with so many beautiful sculptures worked in the walls and columns… I don’t know about the others, but for me, I won’t soon forget all the beauty and the wonder I’ve seen in our short time in the Feywild.

Once we passed the threshold of the main gates, it appeared like the cabin was at least a few hundred feet long. In what appeared to be the centre of the cabin was a very large stone fire place. There were so many fey and they were all celebrating and very festive. It was as though they were celebrating some great event. Perhaps they were celebrating the Fey`s home coming. The folk sang songs and played musical instruments… There was even a lot of fornication going on… This joyous atmosphere certainly helped us ease our worries, because none knew what exactly we were walking into.

We were urged to continue following Saturly until we finally reached two large wooden thrones located on an elevated platform… On one of them sat a very tall and muscular humanoid with a pair of mighty horns on his forehead, and wore only a loin cloth. On the adjacent throne sat his wife, the Crone. Saturly graciously introduced us to them.

The Lord of the house gave us a very warm welcome and was clearly very happy to set his gaze once more upon the Fey, his god daughter. The Lord explained to us that he did not become the Fey’s god father by traditional means. Instead, she came into the Lord’s life because her father beseeched the Lord to place the Fey under his protection from her mother. In fact, for some reason that remains a mystery to us, the Fey’s mother hated her daughter to the point of wanting to kill her. Given the Lord’s benevolence, he would accept the Fey as his protected ward, but for a price. The price ultimately was a major sacrifice on the Fey’s father’s part, which was to surrender to the Lord all the love he had for his daughter. Fearing for his daughter’s life at the hands of his wife, he accepted the terms.

The Lord upheld his end of the bargain by making the Fey his protected ward through a ritual, thus making the Fey his god child and forever protecting her from her mother. The ritual must have created a mystical link between the two, because as a result, the Fey learned to manifest her powers by tapping into this link, thus using the Lord’s life force to empower her rituals. To make matters worse, as the Fey learned more powerful rituals, she would use the Lord’s life force even more. Obviously this unanticipated side effect was not part of the original deal and the Lord wanted to rectify the situation quickly, which is why Saturly was sent to retrieve the Fey by any means necessary.

Obviously the Lord was certainly not helpless in the matter and if he really wanted to, I’m certain he had the power to cut the link with his god daughter in order to preserve his life force. However, in doing so, I suspect that the Lord would be breaking the deal he made with the Fey’s father, and in doing so, the Fey would no longer be protected from her mother. The Lord clearly takes his role as god father to heart and was certainly open to allowing her to continue tapping into his life force, but like her father, the Lord told the Fey that if she wished to continue using her god father as a conduit for her powers, thus sacrificing a part of himself to the Fey, the Lord would require the same of his god daughter and required her to offer him a sacrifice of her own.

It was clear that the Lord was not interested in a material compensation, such as a magical item or gold. He is immortal, and in particular is also a very powerful and supernatural being. Therefore, objects that are commonly valued by us mortals have little or no value to the Lord. He wanted something special from the Fey… This would require a major personal sacrifice from the Fey.

The Fey struggled long and hard and did not have any clue on what she could possibly sacrifice. The Lord`s wife, the Crone, offered the Fey some guidance and suggested to the Fey to stop thinking like a mortal. This continued on for the better part of 2 hours.

During the Fey`s contemplations, the rest of us continued chatting with the Lord and the Crone. One of our conversations related to the life of the pre-amnesia Fey. Unfortunately for the Healer, who is desperate to find out who he really is, the Fey refused to have any such information divulged to her in fear that whatever she would discover would inadvertently change the person she is now. The Lord respected her wishes and refused to answer any further question that would even hint on the details of her previous life, even questions that would reveal indirect details. The Healer had difficulty in containing his anger and frustrations.

However, that did not sway the Healer’s resolve in obtaining information about his own past… He insistently pressed on with more questions. Seeing the desperateness in the Healer`s questioning, the Crone took pity on him and agreed to answer any one question we each had. The Guardian asked for the city name that seemingly is important to his own past, and the Healer wanted to know what his pre-amnesia name was. Now that he has it, maybe it will give him some respite for now. As for myself, I was hard pressed to come up with a question on the spot.

In order to further lighten the mood, the Lord was gracious and generous enough to present to the Forgotten gifts as tribute and appreciation for providing support, camaraderie and protection to his god daughter. To the Healer, a magical block of ice containing the maps of the underworld was gifted, and to the Guardian, a unique pair of boots capable of invigorating his charge attacks was offered. As for me, seemingly not a member of the Forgotten, was left out in the cold. However, the Lord did proposition me to make love to him…

As a druid, I know a lot about Nature and from what I was able to gather about the Lord is that he is indeed a paragon of Nature in this realm. It is like having a Goddess offering herself to a cleric who worships her… What would the cleric do? It was the same for me. Just the mere words he spoke to me made me tremble… I accepted his offer, and I doubt I shall ever experience anything like that ever again. I know that this world has such horrific atrocities, but then something like this happens, and it becomes clear as day that the opposite is also true… I was given a glimpse of what pure bliss feels like, and I can only hope to experience it again in the afterlife.

Upon recomposing myself, I rejoined the group and I was pleased to find out that the Fey had finally come up with an offering for her god father. She offered her first love… The Fey did not elaborate on her wording and her phrasing certainly lead to different interpretations. In the Fey`s perspective, she meant that she was offering the love she would feel for her first love, much like how her father gave up his love for her, but the Lord interpreted her offering literally. In other words, his perception was that the Fey would have to convince her first love to freely turn himself/herself over to her god father. The Lord smiled and agreed to his interpretation of the Fey`s wording, but with an additional stipulation… She would have only one moon cycle to convince her first love to turn himself/herself over. The Fey agreed to the terms and the bargain was finally struck. The Lord was clearly happy with the agreement and the Fey is now free to continue using her powers, which are channelled through her god father. As a measure to further sweeten the deal they had just struck, the Lord also permanently bestowed his boon on the Fey.

We rested for a short while, and did our share of drinking, laughing, and celebrating. We each had different reasons to celebrate, but one common thing we all shared was that it allowed us to temporarily forget the hardships we had recently lived through. However, reality eventually caught up to us, even in the Feywild, and it was time for us to depart to continue our travels. We do have many things to do and as some would say, there will be plenty of time to rest when we retire, or when we are dead. The Lord and Crone, who had just transformed into the Maiden, wished us luck on our travels and future adventures, and bade us farewell. The surroundings of the log cabin, as well as the surrounding folk quickly blurred into nothingness and was replaced by a seemingly empty, dark and damp throne room completely made of stone. I’m sure the Guardian felt at home! I presume that we were teleported from the Feywild to our own realm.

Before we could gain our bearings, we were startled to hear from the shadows ‘’HOW DARE YOU?!’’ It did not take long to find out whom or what was barking those menacing words to us… It was a Beholder. Even before we could react, four ghost-like figures came out from behind of the thrones and assaulted us.

The Guardian managed to charge the vile Beholder before the ghosts reached our position, and the Healer conjured his most powerful power to provide us with resistive powers… The Fey and I did what we could to take care of the Beholder`s minions. Little did we know what the abomination had in store for us… The Beholder attacked us with a gaze attack that affected everyone except me. It did not do any physical harm, but its effect was devastating nonetheless… In fact, the Guardian, Fey and Healer were all stunned. Their mundane tasks now required intense concentration… For example, all the Healer could do was sustain his divine power. Meanwhile the ghosts continued their assault and landed devastating hits within our ranks.

The Beholder pressed its attack with yet another gaze effect. This one affected me… My mind became fuzzy and I could swear the Fey was a ghost, so I swung at her. I hit the Fey squarely in the forehead, but luckily for her, my melee attacks are not the strongest… The Guardian was also affected, but he had me in his sights and took a swing at my head. I managed to duck out of the way… Surely the gaze must have dulled the dominated dwarf’s aim because all he managed to do was mess up my hair from the wind his hammer produced as it swung over my head. Looking over at the Fey to see if she needed support, and to admittedly gloat to her that the Guardian missed me, I saw the rage in her face as she was targeting me with her own ritual… I caught another taste of the Lord’s essence, but this one was the painful kind! I realized that she too fell victim to the domination effect and her sights landed on me. The Fey’s magical gestures did not fault her, as her bolt found its target…

To add insult to injury, the Beholder pressed its attack against me and managed to land a critical hit… The blow almost knocked the wind out of me… I stood my ground and tried to forget about the pain. I realized that the ghosts provided some enhancement synergy to the Beholder`s attacks, and I assumed that the Guardian could take care of the Beholder for the time being. So I decided to concentrate my efforts in eliminating the ghosts. I conjured a ritual of my own, and managed to kill two of the four spectres. Unfortunately one was unaffected by my ritual, while the fourth was outside the effect of my power. As I stood there panting and relishing the thrill of taking out the ghosts, I made a critical mistake… I forgot to activate an innate healing power that would have imbued regeneration abilities in me… My body was aching, and I could swear that nearly every bone in my body was broken… It was if it was my shear will that was keeping me conscience. My sight was blurry from my own blood dripping from my brow, and as I looked around the battle scene, it was like the cries coming out of my friends were distorted and my eye sight was failing… Everything around me wasmgetting dimmer and dimmer… All I could see were shades of grey. I could feel the life slipping away from me…

As I turned my head towards the Healer, I was horrified to see that he too was in bad shape. He was being assaulted relentlessly from every direction, including from his dominated friends… He couldn’t even counter attack due to being continuously stunned by the Beholder`s gaze attacks… Even his mighty Morning Glory wasn’t enough to keep him standing as the last blow he could bare struck him down. He dropped to his knees… I remember the blank look in his face before he keeled over. I’ll never forget the thud I heard as his skull hit the stone floor…

The next thing I remember is feeling another sharp pain, but in my back this time… I knew it would not be long now… As I fell to my knees, I could no longer hear the battle that was raging around me… All I could hear was a woman softly calling my name… ‘’Autumn’’… ‘’Autumn’’… I looked over and I could swear I saw a shimmering woman standing in the distance, looking upon me and smiling. It seemed like she was waiting for me, perhaps as a guide to the afterlife… Although I did not recognize the woman that was before me, I instinctively called out “mother”… Then everything went dark…

Travelling in the Grass

By the DM
Date unknown

“Honestly, considering how hard you fought, I’m surprised you don’t have anything to add, but all the better. Come on.”

Saturly sniffs the air and sets off in a direction best described as random. He and his cronies seem little concerned with the group. Occasionally, he stops, plays a few notes, listens for an answer you never hear and adjusts his heading. It is difficult to tell the passage of time as the group as kept to the tallest grass and the sun hasn’t moved an inch in the sky. Eventually, as you start to get tired, the satyr offers you some of the same sweet sparkly liquid which woke the Fey from her stupor. He recommends that you take off your boots and walk directly on the ground. Those that do start feeling a certain energy come up through their legs helping them walk for longer periods.

Eventually, Saturly, ahead of the group, drops to the ground and lets out a lilting epithet. He comes back and discusses something with the firbolgs in sylvan.

“Well, it looks like the summer queens know we’re here. The troops here, he says pointing to the giants, will distract her vassals while the rest of us slip by. On my mark, you follow me and, whatever you do, focus on the music.”

The ball is in your court.

A Walk on the (Fey) Wild Side

By the DM
7th Flamerule, 1479

As the group steps through the mirror, the Forgotten are disappointed to find that absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happens. They are in fact on the same rolling green hills where they fought firbolg and satyr. At most, the strange intensity that had fallen upon them as they entered the manifest zone becomes somewhat more pronounced. When the last firbolg steps through, Book walks up to the mirror and breaks it with a few sharp raps of his staff, leaving behind an empty arch and shards of glass. According to Book’s instructions, the Mouth bends down and gingerly picks up one of the larger mirror shards (add this to your equipment Tim: Octogonate Gate Shard).

The satyr turns around and speaks convivially:
“Welcome to Summer, you may call me Saturly. I’m afraid our girl here isn’t exactly welcome in these parts, so, if you’ll allow, we will make our way home like a quickling.”

As he says these things, one of the Firbolg gives the Fey a potion.

I’m trying to move this along, but in the spirit of limiting railroading, I’m opening it up to roleplay. You have until at least tomorrow to have your character react should you so wish. Roleplay thread is here.

Exploring the Feywild manifest zone

7th Flamerule, 1479

It was a lot easier to get into camp this time, the orcs know who we are and don’t mess with us. So they brough us to see King Jark. He when directly to the point. He’ll tell us what he knows about the raven hair girl once we clear the manifest zone. Sure no sweat.

So we approached the zone. The orcs look nervous and they had open there barricade to let us through and we continued on the path like any walk through the woods and where promptly ambushed by some Banshrae. They were tuff, but the worst what the Blood Apes. They grabbed Healer and then Book and flung them far into the jungle. While we finished the Banshrae off, then when exploring to find our friends… They were bloody masses of friends. I was shocked to find them alive. We then bound our wounds and proceeded much more carfully. We found the portal that was leaking the Feywild into our realm and destroyed it. Excellent work done, though it almost cost us too dearly. The Feywild manifest zone disappears … and 30’ away there is a deformed giant of some sort, who promptly thows a hammer at our face!!!

Off to see the King

7th Flamerule, 1479

So our trip to King Jarks camp in the giant ruins when well. On our way here, the second day we saw two giant slugs with wings fly by in the valley and stop at an old ruined guard tower. The forgotten approached and then the Fey and the Mouth tried to slip in and see what these Shadowvar where doing. And they got attached by the giant flying slugs. It was an alright fight, but it was hard to coordinate through the trees as we couldn’t see very far in the deep forest. But we managed to kicked there asses. The leader appears to have gotten away, but the witch and the slugs were dispatched. Once we return to Eaglepeaks, we will have to report this to the Purple Dragons.


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