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Pointer-left Investigator__male_2_thumb
Posted by the GM
Per Multiversum
Chapter 1 — Mount Abbalayat
~ 4th of Tarsakh, The Year of Rogue Dragons, Morning
Marching Mountains, Calimshan

"You played your yarting for the queen of Tethyr?" asked Gren.

   "No, no," Jayce replied, "she purchased a magical music box that plays Jimena's and my music whenever she desires it. I am told that it helps her three children fall asleep at night."

   "How much did you make from that deal?" asked Martin.

   "It is not polite to ask a musician how much money he has made from his sales," said the bard.

   Under spelljamming power drained from the young wizardess Oma, they sailed the early morning skies over the northernmost lands of Calimshan. The previous night, the Belvin had received a second message by magic bird — this time caught by Oma's magic cat, Panther. In it, Yashiera described a set of directions to follow to reach the fabled Mount Abbalayat, hidden within a cloud covered secret valley in the Marching Mountains.

   Mythlos had remained behind in Darromar. Belvin and Leokas were at the port railing, gazing down at the Calim River below them. They were speaking in Elvish.

   "The last time we were traveling the opposite direction down this river," said Belvin, "and Vashti was with us." He gave a knowing look toward his friend of nearly a year.

   Leokas ignored the look. "When the gnolls attacked, we thought that that hyena had killed her," said Leokas, "but that was before we learned that she did not need to breathe air. She was so fearless. I recall what she yelled as the animal charged at her: 'Come on, mutt, bring it!' Moments later, they both tumbled over the embankment."

   "I was trancing in the water that night," said Belvin. "My first image was off her falling backward into the current. I then slipped back into the water myself. I never told anyone at the time, but she never even used her jambiya. She told me that she found it easier to drown a hyena than a man."

   "Those details would have been useful to know at the time."

   Belvin shrugged. "We learned what she was eventually."

   Leokas pointed. "The river bends, as Yashiera described. I will notify Ombert."

   The halfling captain called out orders to his sailors and the sails were adjusted to turn the ship to a new heading, north into the mountains. From this point, Yashiera had directed them to "keep the tallest mountain ahead of" them "slightly to the left" while aiming for a saddle point. With Oma at the helm, they would be able to reach the saddle in just over a half hour.

   Snow was still on the mountains ahead of them. Oma kept the sailing vessel at an elevation of about one mile. The saddle seemed to be directly ahead at that elevation, while the tallest mountain that they could see in this region was probably a couple thousand feet taller than that. Until their highest points, the hills and mountains were covered in green trees.

   "The mountains of your homeland are beautiful," Miri, Rinald's daughter, said to Hakam. Her husband was snuggled up beside her at the starboard railing. Hakam, in contrast, stood in the middle of the deck.

   He nodded. "Many of my people summer in these hills during the hotter months," he explained.

   "For my part," said Stedd, Miri's husband, "the cooler air at this elevation is welcome, even though the spring is yet young."

   They could soon make out a second peak, about 1100 feet shorter than the tallest one and north of it Leokas pointed it out to Ombert, and the halfling captain called for a slight course correction. Oma decelerated.

   The saddle point was covered in trees, which made it difficult to find a safe place to hover, so that the party could be lowered in the rowboat to the ground, but eventually, they spotted a flat rock and were lowered safely. They instructed Oma to take the spelljammer as high into the sky as she could, to be safe from any chance encounters with raging dragons. They would contact the ship by sending stone when they were ready to be picked up.

   "Now we have to find this plinth," said Leokas.

   The group — Belvin, Leokas, Jayce, Hakam, Szordrin, Solisar, and Kytharrah — spread out, searching through the thick trees and underbrush, searching for "an ancient plinth" as the druidess's message had described.

   Leokas could not find any tracks, beyond those of small fauna.

   They heard a loud whistle.

   "Jayce has found it," said Hakam.

   The heavy stone base supported an old vase of stone.

   "What now?" asked Szrodrin. "What did your lover say to do next?"

   "She is not my lover," said Belvin. "She is the mother of my daughter, and she said to fill it with water and go hide."

   "Go hide?" said Szordrin.

   "Game?" asked Kytharrah.

   "Yes, a hiding game," said Solisar.

   The minotaur turned to dart off.

   "The game is not started yet, Lunk," said Szordrin.

   "We fill it and then remain out of sight," explained Belvin. "Someone will find us."

   "I see no reason not to just follow the directions that we were given exactly," said Hakam. "I shall create some water with my magic."

   That done, they headed a short distance downhill through the trees. The cover was so thick that they did not need to go very far. They sat on the ground or fallen logs and waited.

   About an hour later, there was no doubt that someone was approaching. Twigs snapped as a bulky man stepped shortly into view. The man looked like an albino Calishite. He was bald, but had a goatee of a strange copper color. He was dressed in a hooded jellaba and wore thick woolen gloves. He was extremely broad-shouldered, and his bare forearms were rippling with muscles.

   "I am Sarak," he said in a monotone voice. "You shall follow me."

   Sarak turned to go before waiting for any verbal reply or further introductions. They got up and followed.

   The guide led them up a hard to follow path between the two peaks, a very strenuous climb. At this new saddle, they could see down into a hidden rock-strewn bowl about six miles across. It was much colder up here, some thousand feet higher than the lower saddle, and they could see ice in the hidden valley below. Rising out of the valley center like a knife was a solitary mountain, what could only by Mount Abbalayat. Its peak was surround by clouds, which were being driven by powerful downdrafts.

   Sarak led them away from this view and their goal, which seemed to be going backwards. He was now leading them clockwise around the peak of the tallest mountain along a precarious ledge. They were shivering from the cold, which made it even more dangerous to follow this trail, but Sarak did not appear cold or in any way unstable in his steps.

   Eventually, a cave opened up in a massive crack in a cliff on the eastern side of the peak. The albino led them inside, where they felt instant warmth away from the winds.

   Here, there were runes carved into the tall stone walls of this passage into the mountain.

   "These are Auran letters," said Solisar, "but the words are not easy for me to decipher. This must be Old Alzhedo, most likely spells of protection. There is powerful magic in this passage."

   Sarak snorted gruffly. "The Tunnel of Uladvir," he said without any further explanation.

   The "tunnel" was clearly leading them under the summit and directly through the mountain. Up ahead, they could see sunlight at the other end.

   When the cave passage ended, they stood at the start of a long and narrow bridge of marble over the valley. Looking down, they perceived that they were now far above the clouds that had earlier shrouded the mountain in the center of the valley. The other side of the bridge joined thus with Mount Abbalyat, and on the other side of the bridge, they spotted a road leading up a gentle slope to that mountain's summit. The bridge either had not been here before or was invisible from their earlier view of Mount Abbalayat from the saddle.

   They no longer felt any wind. Kytharrah had already stepped ahead of Sarak unto the narrow marble path. The minotaur had an innate sense of passageways and could smell that the bridge was not just a bridge; it was a tunnel. He pounded the walls that most of them had not yet noticed. A thick, curved glass — or glass-like — tube surrounded the marble floor of the bridge on all sides.

   "Follow," said Sarak. "Ul'sahab, the City of Seers, awaits you."
Session: 102nd Game Session - Wednesday, Jun 13 2018 from 7:00 PM to 10:00 PM
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Building a better mousetrap.
Macross considered the situation carefully. No one builds a mousetrap with an escape. The entrance to the real tomb had to be on the opening side of the one way doors, NOT on the trap side. That left a lot less area to cover.
Session: Episode 29 - Wednesday, Mar 20 2019 from 9:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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Tags: raiding , tomb
Icy Depths
As we dropped into the lake, the world shifted around us. The depths of the water hung dark and ominous above our heads and sunlight filtered through the thick ice below our feet. In the distance an enormous castle loomed, and figures from it were speeding towards us.

Clad in bluish armor and mounted on strange beasts which seemed to be half lion and half fish, they approached. Pennants snapped briskly from their spears (a feat which seemed normal until one considered that we were still underwater) as they reigned their mounts in a short distance away. Their leader fell to his knee before Padhraig.

Knight Captain Mythras was of the Fae, his features fine and sharp, and though Ser Jarrad looked at him with a great deal of suspicion it seemed as though we had little choice but to follow him. He welcomed us to the Queen’s Realm and began to lead us back. Quietly, our own knight whispered to us that we must be cautious about what we accepted and what we gave. “Not even your thanks!” he emphasized.

The path we took was incredible. As Padhraig approached, the landscape seemed to come alive. Ice and water took the forms of plants, small creatures, even tiny and delicate butterfly-like creatures... all of it fantastic, the sort of things one might read of in tales or see in a particularly memorable dream.

As we reached the walls, musicians sounded a welcome for the Prince, and a grand figure flowed towards us from the entrance. She was beautiful, clad in a gown of water, and (for the moment) wore a pleasant and benign expression. “My dearest child...” she greeted her grandson, “I had despaired of ever seeing you, but here you are.”

She invited us within, and we were forced to accept her hospitality. (I think Ser Jarrad may have injured a tooth from clenching his jaw so tightly). We were scarce inside, though, before she suggested that her kin might make “his escort” more comfortable. In just a few moments we had all been separated, taken by one of the Fae to a private suite.

There, we were given opportunity to bathe, and anything we wished for was provided. We were told we would be given appropriate clothing, and as we passed the time (I suppose to divine what those clothes should be) they asked strange, seemingly random questions. Still, I suppose pondering the answer to “Do you think Purple is hungry?” kept my mind off our predicament. And, it was better than the awkward... proposition... my attendant offered me.

I rather liked the outfit I was eventually given. I wouldn’t have necessarily picked out such a masculine style for myself, but once dressed I adored the look. Comfortable, relatively practical, and remarkably flattering. I spent a great deal of time in front of the looking-glass, feasting my eyes on the image of a strong, fearless woman I hardly recognized as myself. It was, annoyingly, in my family’s colors of midnight blue and silver, but as I looked at it I couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

Finally, we were reunited, and I could see what everyone else had been given. I went from frowning at my buttons, each rather impertinently embossed with the SIlverhill crest, to frowning more deeply at Cabhan’s clothing. He wore a suit of black embroidered with gold ravens, which I realized immediately (and had to explain) were symbols of the Blackbyrnes.

We were brought down to the feast, and introduced with strange titles - I was named “Mayhem’s Handmaid” and Cabhan was called “Master Marionette” - and the evening grew more unsettling from there. Padhraig’s Grandmother at first offered to expunge the warriors of the Light, and seemed put out when we declined her offer. Her Vizier Ebb forced the demon who was bound to Kaela to show himself, and further made it admit that it had used its power to disguise our nature from the Lightbringers. We have, he pointed out, had our own power sourced nearly evenly from good and evil sources, and without his obfuscation their skills would allow them to sense it.

When our hostess invited us to ask questions, I quietly suggested to Cabhan that he might wish to ask about his clothes, why he was clad in the Blackbyrne colors. After giving him a look she answered, telling him simply that he is the last surviving Blackbyrne heir. Over our protestations that he was more than his heritage, she insisted “I’m afraid your Marionette is in every sense a tool. He is the eyes of your nemesis, and while he lives, he cannot be defeated.

Cabhan was angry, his eyes and posture looked stricken. And for a brief moment his anger scared that deep part of me, but I lay a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. I scarce heard a word of our dismissal, but it wasn’t long before we were being escorted back out into the open waters before her castle.

There, finally away from the curious eyes of the Fae, I was able to ask if he was alright. And of course he wasn’t (as he said, what manner of person would be), but he continued “you shouldn’t be talking about anything of import near me - you shouldn’t BE near me at all.”

My heart hurt with worry for him, but all I could do was offer him an embrace. He accepted it, but he held himself much more stifly than he would have normally. It wasn’t the time for it, but I prayed he would talk with me before he did anything foolish - and I was afraid at my core that I had pushed him far enough away that it would be easy for him to go.

Our spells seemed to still be holding, and so we swam down into the depths of the lake. We encountered several nasty creatures, eellike and vicious, but fewer of them bothered us than I would have guessed. A thrumming noise, almost like a heartbeat, grew louder as we went, until we just about reached the bottom.

The sound stopped, and two enormous, green-glowing eyes opened, illuminating the water around them. An exceptionally large creature looked at us, and a line of smaller eyes opened on some ridge of its tentacled body.

“WHAT ARE YOU?” it asked in an impossibly deep and raspy voice, beginning a conversation (which still managed to not be the strangest we had had that day).

The creature had been created from fallout of our actions last winter. It told us of the lake, of the other creatures within it, and the sharp remains of the demon-prisons. It told us that it did not wish to be unmade, and it did not wish to leave its home. It told us of something in the deep water which might be the cause of the “breaking” of some of the other creatures. It could not see it, it said, but could feel it - and it agreed to show us were it was.

Before we began, though, I had the thought to ask it what its name was. It seemed surprised, and wondered what use a name would be to a creature who had no one else to speak to. We all introduced ourselves to it properly, and Padhraig gave it the name Máthair Shúigh.

As it agreed, Máthair led us into deeper waters. As we went, a wretched noise like screams grew louder and louder. As we drew closer still we were shocked to see a jagged crack in the water itself. A bit taller than a man, and just a foot or so wide, the tear was suspended about fifteen feet above the lake bed. It was alarming, to say the least, and I had no idea what we were meant to do about it.
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Winked Out.
Macross stood still in a morose state of mind. Orlen had marched straight to the brazier and put his hand in, and then winked out of his presence. Hmmm. “Not good,” he thought. While it had the potential for an epic rescue, the campaign against the Mega-Bitch had taken a pronounced turn away from the Standing Stone’s return. Things never seem to go to plan.

Macross crushed the fear and sense of loss along with any other stray emotions he was feeling. What are we missing?
Session: Episode 29 - Wednesday, Mar 20 2019 from 9:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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Padhraig's Journal
O Grandfather, what did you do?

No, to be honest, I have heard far to much of what you did and how well and often. I am left to wonder, though, why you thought it at all wise to flee with the child, or to keep your secrets so close, even from those quite clearly impacted by them. But I may not get the chance to ask, and certainly not before many more things come to pass. So I will update this journal, being truthful to any future cycle, if future cycles come to be.

The hole in the ice above vanished, and the pull downward inverted until we walked easily on the frozen underside, toward a castle in the middle-distance, pennants fluttering in the currents and lit from below the ice, all but glowing.

Riders approached on sharks with the faces of lions, lances canted at their backs and their own pennants fluttering. Their leader gracefully leapt from his mount, swimming effortlessly, coming to kneel just in front of me, removing his helm with a sweep of his arm as part of the same gesture.

“Your Highness,” he said, and before I could say anything more, “I am Knight Captain Mithris, Commander of the Queen’s Mounted Forces, sent to welcome you and your escorts. Bringing welcome on this day that has been awaited for decades. We have no due conveyance, and our beasts will bear no mortals.”

That was no bother, though. We all agreed we could walk. Or swim. And as the riders spread out to escort us widely, Sir Jarred quietly warned us they were not elven but Fey, and so the same rules of care from the woodland fey just weeks ago must apply.

Cabhain asked after ‘Highness’ and I could answer only it was something else my Grandfather never quite explained.

We walked amidst a land of ice, but ice that bloomed and stretched from shape to living thing as we approached it. No, I must be honest. It was almost certainly as I approached, giving more weight to the welcome we had been given. This land waited, and it waited specifically for me.

We made our way to the castle, its walls hundreds of feet high, its towers far taller still, rising into the dark and starless depths of water above. A moat of water somehow sinking below the other water circled the wall in which sharks and hippocampi swam. Musicians played us across the drawbridge, coming to attention as I stepped off the bridge, and as another entered the court from the other side.

She was magnificent, a beauty just shy of demanding all attention be given just to her. She wore what seemed nothing more than ice and water woven into a gown of perfect elegance and a diadem crowned with a deep blue stone. The guards all knelt as she passed them.

“My dearest child. I had despaired for your very existance. Yet here you are, before me.” She opens her arms and smiled, an expression too friendly by far for the general set of her features. “You have his look about you.”

“You’ll forgive… He spoke little of his experiences.”

“Unless something has changed, your grandfather is something of a rogue.” Her smile showed an edge and suggested that was nothing she found unpleasant. I will omit, save this note, her regular habit of offering casual asides referencing the very physical ways she had enjoyed that roguishness. All too detailed and specific asides.

She says the courtyard is no place for higher conversation and welcomes us in as being above commoners. Still numbly, I followed at her offer of hospitality with the others behind, a bit more reluctant snd cautious.

The castle is impossible in its structure and light, and its people openly subservient to the Queen and, if their bows and averted eyes said anything, to me as well. Sometimes there were people there, though… Varied in their features and cultures, numbering far fewer than the scores of fae. The humans seem of a glazed and odd aspect. They pursue their own tasks, not oblivious to our pasage, but not really reacting either.

She led us to a domed chamber, colored beams of light with no obvious sources shining down to the cold floor.

“It would be my great honor to throw a feast for you, our guests. With your permission, my kin will see to it that your escort is settled and made comfortable.”

“An’ what they are given is to my account, it is accepted,” I said, remembering Sir Jarad’s warning.

Each is offered their own tall, elegant escort that leads them their own personal path deeper into the palace while I stayed here at the pleasure of the palace’s Lady. My grandmother, which I still have difficulty accepting.

She led me into another chamber, an underwater chamber in the fashion of an aviary, tiny ice crystal fishlike yet also birdlike forms darting from icy tree to column, shadow to deeper shadow. She sat herself in a throne clearly grown from the ice and with the slightest gesture offered me one of my own nearby.

“It took many things to make this meeting possible,” she tells me, and that she is most cross with my “exceptionally naughty” grandfather. That I was told nothin in a score of years, left to so many doubts and uncertainties and unease. “But now creation crumbles, and fortunately that allows us to seek you out. Being forced so far from the home I had created and into the outer dark was so terrible.”

Her manner changed, ever so slightly. The preditor escaped her mask.

“One favor, though, I must ask. One of your companions is an affront, a servant of the power behind that eviction.”

Dama Kaela. She casually asked me to give her her the life of a friend and companion. I must not have schooled my expression well, because she all but instantly re-assumed her kindly show.

“It must come later, then,” she smiled, and proceeded to complement my cleverness and luck in gathering such a clever and chaotic band. She claimed to adore the presence of such chaos in the midst of order his has wrought, indicating the castle. And offered to me whatever aid she might provide, even if, when I asked, their purposes are at odds. “Family being more important than anything else.”

I circled around asking for the mantle directly, but she sussed out my purpose and said I must know already where I had left it. When I clearly did not, she clarified that the cloak lingering over the Bore is the Mantle and I must reclaim it. “You must go to claim the mantle, but something beneath it is not happy to be contained. You left it there for a purpose, after all.”

We talk about the fragmenting nature of time and tides and how, she insists, I am meant to direct the tides not be taken by them. “You’ve only recently been given a chance to release your heritage. This Zolos woman has opened the locks. You couldn’t perhaps half-defeat her?”

It was clear she meant much what the Earl-king had. That they desired the cycles broken, their exile ended.

The others returned the, each garbed in the finest of clothes, befitting their own manner, if sometimes not the manner they commonly presented. Her vizier, Lord Ebb, named each.

Kaela is in a flowing gray gown, darkening as it rises along her body, a sash in her family tartan. “The Ruiner’s Disciple”

Ailie wears men’s ridingwear, a long jacket and tails in a semi-skirt, with leather pouches, all in midnight blue with silver buttons of her family crest and a cravat of white lace, as are her cuffs. “Mayhem’s Handmaiden”

Yvor wears Therean rural lord’s finery, dark and simple and severe, black trimmed with the colors of military service. Only his hide swordbelt and fur color decorate it, and those clearly trophy of a significant hunt. His left arm has a stylized eye in silver tracery on his bracer. “Grim Magnificence” At his entrance, Grandmother looked hungrily and muttered “There is nothing so lovely as a predator.”

Jokhula wears kertle and sideless surcoat in grey and silver fir with pears and diamonds at her throat. “Lady Argent”

Jarrad wears practical forest green with woven leaves as a cape and a branch halo growing up from the neck over his head. “The Ash King”

Cabhain wears a full suit of fine black silk, embroidered in gold with ravens at collar and cuffs. “Mastr Marrionette” Ailie grew stiff first, before any of the others of us recognized that he wore Blackbyrne colors.

I found myself dressed in the manner of a naval officer’s uniform, unfamiliar in its specifics. Black coat, fanning wide in tails behind, with large square gold buttons over a pale purple shirt with a high, stiff collar. Loose sleeves exposed my one bare hand, my one gauntlet all that was left of my armor. My hat had vanished, and I wore a diadem a smaller echo of Her own. I carried no blade, but knew as I often did that it would answer my call at once. My trousers were loose and comfortable, a total opposite to the collar. “Her Darling Boy” is all I was given as an introduction, and she beamed her approval.

She smiled in greeting and spoke. “We would have it known to each of you, in honor of each and joy of our boy’s return, and to give aid in your purpose, we have prepared a service. We apologize for its limits, but as you struggle with the creatures of light… We will do away with them, sweeping them from this isle at the least.”

I protested at once, that those people were our allies, not enemies. At least in the current matter. She did not aggree, and insisted they did not put us to the sword only for the priestess’s thrawl. And in time, when they will see thru our disguises, they will remember their purpose.

Cabhain asks plainly what she meant by these disguises.

At her gesture, Lord Ebb unmasked Dama Kaela’s demon, a male figure of inhumanly perfect appearance, save cloven feet, bat-wings and horns. He is forced to his knees by the next gesture, to the Dama’s obvious displeasure.

The Queen said it has been hiding secrets. “I have withheld nothing,” it insisted, “but my efforts to reveal information have been rebuffed.”

“Educate your mistress, thrawl,” the Fey Queen commanded, and Dama Kaela frowned yet again.

“I took steps to protect the lives of you and your companions. The dark nature each of you carries within you.”

Zolos’s touch. We had taken one mark too many to try to steal our enemy’s strength. Would we now echo as evil to the Paladin’s eyes, were it not for this demon’s aid? I must think so, as the Fey lie with more tact than this, and the sound of it rang far too true.

Grandmother withdrew her gift after our protest, sending her commander to recall her troops. But she will not accept giving us nothing. “Nor would I ask that of you,” I said, lest she decide the nothing was what she would give us. Such a give could not but be a dark one.

There was more of what, for company such as this, might be considered small talk. Of time and its nature, of the walls between people and fey. But not of slaying enemies as a gift.

But in the end, it turned to the reasons for our garb. Or, rather, of Cabhain’s.

“Why, he is the last Blackbyrne heir. Your good Marrionette is in every way a puppet. The eyes of your nemesis and, so long as he lives, your nemesis cannot be destroyed.’

Cabhain was clearly stricken and angry, and the meal dissolved into uncomfortable silence.

She allows us to go with a grand, sweeping gesture, but if we have need, I may stand in water and call on Queen Marrisnus for her aid. Until that moment, none had said her name. It rang cold and clear in the water around us.

The clothes we can also keep and call on as we need. And we can go with her blessing, though most refuse that.

One last message was whispered by Lord Ebb as we leave… that I am to tell my grandfather that the man he tricked into his place is still here.

O Grandfather, what did you do?

Once we’re back in the icy lake, Ailie asked after Cabhain. If he was all right with this. Which he really wasn’t, but we talk him down. He has prove and friend an ally, whatever his birth and others’ tricks. And will do so again, of that I am certain.

The spells seemed to still be holding, so we descended into the lake. A perfect hemisphere, we find.

We seek the absolute center, the place the annihilator spheres met. To try to sniff out a flaw or a leak in the world, or other hint.

The nearby passage of predators became harder and harder to ignore. The largest we spotted was some 20 yrds long. The water bears an odd thrumming as we near the center.

Vast, externally toothed, and multi-eyed eels begin to close as we approach the thrumming heart, but I found being in water, even this frigid and icy water, entirely welcoming. Somehow, I was home in a way I had never been. Under the water. Where no sailor wishes to be.

The eels closed in then, and we fought them back. I let my magic pull me close to one and pulled lightning into it through my blade as the others fought the rest.

The water was thick and sluggish, and it slowed us a bit as we swam to the heartbeat of the chaos… Which is the center bottom of the lake, its very deepest point.

Green glowing eyes open, illuminating the water. The creature was exceptionally large, curled and folded in on itself. A ridge of smaller eyes open as well above.

WHAT ARE YOU? A voice shook the heavy water, somehow audible.

“Here to see you to a place where you’ll be more comfortable.”


Tentacles the thickness of trees rise and twist.


Sir Jarrad said “We are the children on Ankar. We are responsible for your existence.”


“Our actions spread the chaotic energies. And their gathering here have summoned forces that new seek your destruction.”


“I pulled the trigger,” I admited.


Tentacles smashed against the bottom and started to press down in quiet fury.


Ailie pointed up beyond the water.


We agreed. While it would do no good for the Fey to strike at the Lightbringers in defiance of the Arch and the order of things, they had truly earned this creature’s emnity.


Jared offered to let this thing have its world, though it is troubled by needing to kill the eels to defend itself.


It showed us a broken capsule, surviving bits of the demon prison’s cells.


They won’t leave him be because, as Jokhula described it, they are broken things.


I tried to explain, and warned it to stay away from her. He seemed too innocent, and would be too tempting to be made into a toy. Or weapon.

We tred to locate a source of new bad meat, and it said it has thrown out most, but still feels something that breaks the weaker creatures in the middle water.

We tried to describe the issue and it asks if we meant the noise, and directed us toward it.

Before it guided us there, Ailie asked its name, which it could not give. We gave ours and name it “Máthair Shúigh”

Máthair guided us to the noise, which was many voices screaming though a visible disturbance in the water, a jagged crack in the world some five yards height above the lakebed, another three tall and about 18 inches wide. A tear in the world, just as we had feared.
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