Pawprints and Broken Wards

533WePaBrWa

The writ from Aleris opened doors that would have otherwise stayed firmly closed for the party as they asked around the Eyeless Spire. However, the resounding information they got from the various mages, scholars, staff and teachers they questioned was that their animal companions or magical beasts had been acting strangely since the morning.

The party’s second stop was the market’s east quarter, where word had spread of a bizarre incident earlier that morning. A team of draybeasts, large four-legged mammals with small trunks and flexible monkey-like tails, had bolted mid-haul, overturning a cart of lacquered crates and chests that spilt their contents over the ground. By the time handlers had regained control and the onlookers had calmed down, several small but valuable items had vanished. Not taken by thieves, but spirited away by a flock of large black birds that had been watching from the rooftops.

Further enquiries led them to a disused courtyard between the spire and the old city wall. Here, they found more signs of disorder; chewed rope bindings, pawprints that stopped abruptly mid-step, and a scattering of broken ward-crystals that should have been all but impossible for an animal to tamper with.

In the midst of the mess sat a small brass charm in the shape of a feather on top of a rock. It hummed faintly with residual magic, the sort used to send a familiar to carry messages without a master’s instruction. Someone, or something, had used it recently.

Judging by the footprints and the other evidence they had seen, they were expecting a small Tabaxi or other creature that shared characteristics of the prints they had followed so far. However, they were surprised when a familiar raven cawed at them from a nearby wall before flying off with a dozen or so other ravens that rose in a strangely ordered flock.

And then there was the case of Yasil still being missing. The city guard’s search had turned up nothing, no sign of forced departure, no witnesses who had seen him leave or any clue of what had happened. One stable hand who mucked out stables at the inn where the party were staying swore he had seen the young apprentice at dawn, walking calmly through the east gate in the company of a pale-furred fox with three tails. The oddest part was that the stable hand was certain Yasil had not been carrying his satchel or anything at all.

Whatever had taken the Charm of Concord was beginning to look less like a lone apprentice’s blunder and more like a coordinated theft, carried out by creatures that should not be working together at all.

---

A Voice from the Water

532WeVoWa

Getting ready to leave to investigate where the lantern was lost at first light the party began by looking for the orphans which Mayor Talia suggested. As the party set out to find Amal and Jessa in the village but try as they may they fail. It isn’t until they leave the village that it becomes evident why.

She stumbles toward the party, eyes wide and barely recognizing them before she collapses at their feet. Her legs are cut and bruised from the sharp reeds and river rocks, her dress streaked with mud. Panting, she tries to speak, but no words come. She only points, downriver toward the lake.

After a few moments of being unable to communicate she beckons for them to follow her and rushes back the way she came, her body obviously tired but her will driving her onwards. Steep slick rocks, wet moss, ancient stones beneath and thick mud line the rivers edge where the current had begun to shift in the endless rapid twists and turns that it took towards the lake. Across the river and around them children and their parents solemnly placed offerings to the river to appease it and let the flowers, fruit and more drift down the river before the current dragged it under.

The party reach the waters edge of the lake after convincing Jessa that she needed to rest when her body began to give into exhaustion. As they followed the directions from the mute Jessa they stumbled across what looked like a small raft that had been dragged ashore. Jessa pointed and indicated that she was on the boat in the middle of the lake when something went wrong.

Amal. Something had gone wrong with her brother.

Searching the rivers edge and even deeper for some time they were unable to find anything of significance except for one of the shoes he wore, sodden and floating near the edge of the lake bank. But as they turned to give the bad news to Jessa she excitedly gestured towards the lake. Amal emerged from the riverbank just before dusk, clothes soaked, one bare foot silent on the stone and gravel of the lakes edge. In his hand, the silver key, still wrapped in a single silver reed that had made the lantern. The Key, a relic made from silver wood, pulsed faintly in time with his breath as he walked forward, his eyes glazed and un focused even when Jessa embraced him. When he finally spoke, it is not with his voice but something else; dark, wet and ancient.

‘It rises with the moon. It will claim its tribute and the debt be settled.’ The words carried something behind them; a second tone, distant and echoing with a soft thunderous roar, as if the river itself were speaking through him. Then muttering the same phrase over and over again he began to walk towards the village once more. Birds did not call as he passed and even a bear appeared and before even considering the young boy a snack it retreated with the rank scent of fear clutching at its fur.

It was like even the wind held still as the boy walked, the rivers current calming before reversing and starting to flow in the direction that he walked. The party remember something that Elder Rinn hesitantly mentioned to them. The key was meant for keeping a lock sealed rather than releasing the Binding.

As Amal entered the village several villagers went quiet and still, Elder Rinn went white as a ghost before collapsing to the ground confirming what the rest of the village dared not say aloud.

The River spirit was free and had broken its banks to walk amongst Riverfall.

Word spreads quickly. Amal, silent since the river wandered the edge of the wheatfields and orchards, the key clutched to his chest as the moonlight glistened of his still soaked clothes.

The townsfolk begin to fracture, some whisper of sacrifices while others speak of fleeing. And through the eyes of a lost boy the river watches it all.

---

Forgiveness through Murder

531WeFoThMu

The room that the party were staying in rang with Brenna Flintshard’s fury as she beat on the thick wooden door. As the door opened she thrust Elaric Fen into the centre of the space with surprising strength from the dwarven rogue. Her grip firm, her eyes glittering with disgust as she stared daggers into Elaric and his priestly robes. A hatred burning within that the party had not seen in an age. Dust rose beneath their boots as the warrior, Tharen Voss followed close behind, and the rest of the party watched, weapons sheathed but nerves drawn tight. ‘You led him to them,’ Brenna growled. ‘To their altar. Their trap.’ The room was silent.

Elaric didn’t resist. He knelt, not out of submission but exhaustion. ‘I serve Imiriel,’ he began quietly. ‘She teaches remembrance. That all endings are sacred from the meek to the mighty. When the High Priests summoned me, they claimed her silence was a condemnation. That Carlo’s dual blessings mocked every god and that she was silent because of him. They told me his sacrifice would preserve balance.’

Tharen stepped forward, his expression carved from iron yet something smouldered as if he hearing this admittance of guilt for the first time. ‘So you chose her silence over his trust?’ the older warrior’s voice cracked like thunder. A bitter gust howled outside, swirling ash against grime covered glass panes.

‘I was bound,’ Elaric murmured. ‘Not just by the temple’s rites, but by grief, guilt and my oath to follow the high priests. They twisted the doctrine until it sounded like duty. Told me Carlo’s soul would scatter if we didn’t act. I begged Imiriel for guidance. But she doesn’t command, she remembers. And remembering means I must bear the shame and the outcome of my actions.’

‘You didn’t just let it happen,’ Brenna snapped after being silent for a while as she grabbed at his tunic and lifted him off the ground a few inches. ‘You walked him into it. You called it faith.’ She shoved him back and the clack-clack-clack of dropping beads punctuated the exchange. Looking in her hand she scowled and hurled a shattered bead of prayer crystal at his robes. ‘This is what your goddess gave you?’

Elaric’s face tightened. ‘She gave me the sorrow of memories of what I have done to preserve balance, that and silence. Along with the the weight of every choice I have made and am yet to come.’ His voice trembled. ‘And when Carlo called out as they clasped cursed irons to him. It was only when I saw the power drain from him, when they drained his light, I felt her weep a single tear. Not from anger, but from love. I broke the promise of endings. And she turned her face away.’

Brenna drew a tattered book with its pages edges frayed and ink fading. ‘I went looking for clues, for answers as to how he could have died. If he had indeed been struck by a blade then he would have felt it. He wrote this the night before he was claimed to be dead.’ she paused before she read from the book. ‘They fear what I carry. If it kills me, forgive them. If it saves me, trust in her.’ She looked up, lips curled. ‘He meant this for you.’ she threw the book, a journal, at Elaric.

Elaric lowered his gaze towards the book and read. ‘Let me honour her now. Let me help undo what I helped bind.’ He looked to Tharen, to Brenna and to the party, ‘I am not worthy of your forgiveness but I can do this. Trust in the man that fought along side you in the Deep halls. I’ll stand beside you once more as we save Carlo -I know where he is kept but they will only let me in. Stand with me with your blades once more, if your swords do not strike me down first.’

Elaric knelt there head bowed low as tears dropped down his cheeks. ‘I didn’t stop them then, but I will end this now.’ and as he knelt there something stirred in the air and a single blue feather floated to rest upon the book at the feet of the cleric.

---

Locked, Sealed, Forgotten

530WeLoSeFo

The party had elected to return to the ruins the following day to explore the cleaner rooms deeper into the ruins below. As they settled into their tents, stored the small relics and treasures in wooden chests the party prepared to get some rest. They hadn’t encountered any thing dangerous in the buildings so far and the treasures they had recovered that the scholars had deemed not significant enough for them to keep for themselves but something was definitely wrong with the rooms they had uncovered.

The party had just started to get ready for bed when the sound of alarms rang out. Pulling on their gear and rushing towards the sound of panic the party found themselves amongst a group of scholars, merchants and a few mercenaries who guarded the sinkhole. At the feet of everyone, once the party pushed through the gathering, lay one of the guards who ensured no one descended the rope ladder closest to the statue.

The man was covered in burns, his clothes had singe marks and even his armour looked damaged in points as if covered in fire. However the scholars and a medic nearby announced his cause of death to be drowning. A pool of liquid had poured from his mouth when he had been found and most of it had been captured in a vial – to be studied later.

There were no witnesses to how this had happened and no evidence of foul play, monsters or acts of random magic. That was until the party examined the rope bridge and saw similar burns covered the extend of the rope. Following their gaze downwards they spotted a pool of liquid near the revealed entrance to the underground structure. Something had either fled to the building when spooked, or had come out of it when no one was looking.

Gathering their supplies and with a small group of scholars the party got ready for what lay ahead.

---

Magic Eater

529WeMaEa

The party waited for the door to open as patiently as they could while listening to someone obviously up to something. With the help of Sal they were able to locate the room that Jake lodged at. He hadn’t shown up to work that day due to the apparent stress that had overwhelmed him after Tamiels murder.

But unfortunately he was the last and only person to know what the tiefling mage was looking for. As they heard a quivering voice from the other side ‘Jussst one moment. Oh why me, be strong Jake. Murderers don’t knock on doors’. The man that answered the door looked a sad mixture of confused and caught mid performance. Glancing around and out the door he straightened up and cleared his throat.

‘Sorry I thought you may have been from the Magus College. What can I do for you?’ he added instantly sounding recovered from what ever had over taken him from before. As the party explained how they found him, why they did and such the realisation of where they looked familiar dawned on him. ‘Look, I will tell you what I know but don’t tell the magus college folk about this. I just needed some time off and thought it was a good chance to take time off with the murderer now in the college itself.’

Inviting the party into his small room he closed the door behind them. ‘Ever since magic using folk started dying across the city they have had a strong focus on stopping what causing it. The first deaths started in ally ways, in a few inns and taverns and such. But then middle of market places where the body was found amongst tents and carts. Now in the middle of a busy library where there were no witnesses. You know it kinda freaks me out.’ he said as he sat and sipped on tea.

After pausing for a bit and listening to the party he added. ‘About the tiefling. He wanted to know where he could find information on the City of Derja. So that’s where he was as we have a book about the ruined city. That’s all I know and unless Sal has more information then that’s all I have sadly.’ he paused before adding. ‘Oh, if you do see Sal. Tell her I’m sorry but let her know I was helpful in your investigations yeah?’

---

The party arrived back inside the Magus College and followed the trail back to where they had found the body of Tamiel. Scanning through the books they eventually found what they were looking for ‘The City of Derja‘. Flicking through the pages where there was more lights they came across what appeared to be a series of journal entries form the scholars that investigated the ruins. Deeper inside the city itself they came across a sealed vault that was mechanically not magically sealed.

After employing dwarves and gnomes to investigate its artifice they were able to open the door and reveal what was inside. The walls were lined with a dark metal and those few people who were mages found themselves unable to conjure spells or connect to the weave itself. The walls to the small chamber were lined with runes and imaged depicting the rise of the city but also the fall, a great whirlwind appearing to rip down building, people and even the earth itself.

Derja was rumoured to be one of the most magically gifted cities, civilisations even, only second to some of the high elven ones during its time but what they had discovered as a place with little to no traces of magic. In the centre of the room was a large vase that was sketched as being made from some kind of dark metal but time had seen it corrode and crumble in sections.

The next few pages described removing it from the room and the strange disappearances, a haunting of the city that preyed upon the members of the scholar team and the mages that guarded them. A curse of the city that targeted those who stole its treasure and flaunted their magic in a place that as now stripped bare from it. The journal entry changed hand writing for the last few pages and explained that any one who had any form of connection to magic had been found dead, still and any of their trinkets, totems, wands, rings, staffs or anything that was enchanted was found near the body of the mage, no longer enchanted and as still as the mage that would have wielded it.

The journal mentions that the artefact was to be taken to the nearest city for study and safe keeping but that the city of Derja was to be treated as a cursed place due to the malevolent spirits that hunted mages for disturbing its treasure.

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