Points of Light

After the Dragon

The party spent numerous hours rolling in the dragon’s treasure and playing dress up with all the items they have collected so far.

After they finsihed celebrating the party started the trek back to Crossroads. On the way they were attacked by Hobgoblins on horses.

In Crossroads the party negotiated with Orsic, the leader of the Merchant Guild, to go into the Black Hills and find Rekkan. The pay was set at 300 gp per memeber for proof that the Bandit King is or is not associted with these events.

On the way to Silverton the pary was attacked by Dire Wolves, then the party got hungry and attack a group of peaceful Dire Boars.


Mighty Moradin, I beseech your forgiveness and ask that you turn your wrath from me. Truly it was only by your might that I and my companions survived the dragon, and it was the height of impropriety that I not acknowledge your greatness at your temple in Crossroads. Some mystical Power drove all memory of its existence from my mind until your displeasure was made painfully aware as I was unable to strike a foe in combat, while being driven to my knees in return. I repent of this ill deed and pledge to sacrifice a molten platinum to your greatness when next we return. Restore your favor that I might once more be a bane to your enemies, by hammer and axe. Amen.

~ Borstal’s prayer

After the Dragon

The night sky wheels overhead, stars concealed and revealed by shreds of cloud, as weather changes with the seasons. Seated on a block of stone from the ruined battlement next to him, Soreth gazes up at them, fingers tapping meditatively at the parchment and quill in his hands. Warm breezes stir the air around him, and around the top of the broken-down tower.

At the corner of his eye he catches the flicker of light and shadow again, drifting in and out of sight. He ignores it, letting it move as it will, and bends to his journal.

As my studies progress and my knowledge and power grows, I wonder just what consequences my choices will have upon myself… and the world around me. The fugue states I experience-if that is indeed what they are?-happen more and more often, and each time they do, I wonder if this will be the one that draws me away from this world. Perhaps whatever forces I have reckoned with, want me to stay. Perhaps the stronger I grow, and the more of these forces I channel, the more of them slips into the world.

He stops to ponder over the fight underneath the chapel in Crossroads. The hungering darkness filling the chamber, stealing life and light.

Will a balance be tipped? Is there a scale somewhere, a crucial point?

The flickering light at the corner of his eye shines again, drifting in and out of view. Blue and purple light gleams like a cross between firefly and lightning, moth wings and candle flame. A soft chiming hum can be heard, just barely, and he shakes his head, shifting position a little.

These events are more than hallucinations or visions… of that much I am certain. Other… entities exist in those strange spaces. Acolytes? Servants? Reflections? Echoes of others like myself? Whatever they are, they pursue their own agenda… and they hunger.

He pauses and looks around the top of the ruined tower. Some of the stones are sheared off at odd angles, others curiously ablated, still others rendered into dust streaked with frost or iridescent discolorations.

In my meditations this evening, my being… slid into this place, this echo of the void and its occupants, and as I drifted, and observed, something… waylaid me. Shadowy, cold, animalistic—like the creatures we have lately encountered in the wild, it pursued me across the far night, until I finally turned to face it. The powers at my disposal meant I was evenly matched, before it closed upon me.

Soreth puts down the quill on the page, and raises one hand, opening it slowly. Eldritch violet light blooms in his palm, taking shape, yet never forming solidly. The light curves and writhes, the vaguest semblance of whip, spear, sword…

The tiny flicker of light drifts past his vision and curves around the half-real object rising from his grip, like a moth drawn to a candleflame. Soreth flicks his wrist, and the manifestation of arcane power discorporates. The miniscule light suddenly wreathes itself in shadow, like a wisp of smoke, and disappears from view once more.

He frowns, muttering softly to himself as he takes up the quill again.

I called namelessly upon the powers that I have studied, and one answered-I think, perhaps, the same agency of the violet light that burns within the star, Caiphon. No answer was given in name or speech, only in action, and I found I could shape the power I wielded, into a weapon in hand. I fought my opponent, and drove it off at last. Our confrontation was not without its effects, though: the world around me has been… altered… in unusual ways, and if I concentrate, something seems…. fractured, like the tiniest crack in a mirror-or the skin of ice on a frozen lake.

Something has followed me through that fracture, and it stubbornly refuses to reveal itself in its entirety. I know not yet if it means to harm or aid… or if it is close to harmless in its own way. Time will tell.

Soreth dips his quill in the vial of ink, and holds up the feather, staring at the ablated end. The vanes of the feather are tipped in white and purple still. As he gazes closer at it, thinking, letting the spare ink drip into the pot, the flickering light gleams on the other side of the feather, like a candle in a paper lantern. When he lowers the quill the light has faded again.

He makes a frustrated sound, and returns to his writing.

In the meantime, this side of things has just as much importance… or at least, almost as much. We continue north, seeking information about the Bandit King and his servants. Perhaps I will be able to put to use what I have… learned… in my meditations.

I can only hope that in the end, it will be worth it.

Soreth wipes the quill clean and places it in its slot, corking the bottle of ink as well. The warm wind helps to dry the ink on the page, and he leaves his journal open in his lap. He tilts his head back, watching the stars, waiting patiently as the flicker of light and shadow slips into sight, into being once more, humming and chiming faintly as it drifts around him.

After the Dragon

As he gazed into the vaste wastland that had once been a thriving forest, Wilithrin once again thought of the sheer power that would be required to create such devestation. As his eyes played over the miles of ground that had been converted into such a hard substance, he tried to fathom what could have caused it. Surely a battle between rival wizards he thought, only wizards and the gods could master such energies as would be required.

Yet once again, the magnitude of the destruction caused him to shake his head. Could meer mortals actually achieve such power? Was it some insane experiment gone wrong? Was this a battle between rival archmagi?

As he and his companions walked on, his brow furrowed in thought, he eventually smiled. Perhaps someday he too would wield such power. Not that he ever would do something like this, but having the power, yes, that would be good, very very good.

After the Dragon

Sitting in the warmth of the fire, surrounded by the crumbling ruins of an ancient city, Lyra leaned back and relaxed. The meal had been good and after traveling with these people for a few weeks now they were beginning to settle into a comfortable comradery. Their bickering seemed almost friendly now, whereas before it had grated on her. She realized that she was actually coming to enjoy the company of her ragtag companions. They fought well together, when they could manage to coordinate. And got along… mostly.

When they had returned to town, the stargazer had gone with her to the temple in town. She had asked if anyone wanted to come see her shrine, but the others were busy replacing their supplies and shopping for upgrades to their equipment. The stargazer hadn’t said why he came with her, but their fates aligned that day.

I wonder if for a time the entities he communes with in the stars have aligned themselves with my Queen…They must approve of us traveling this path together for this time…Fate and the Goddess have shown their hands by putting us together that day to fight the growing evil in that town.

When they reached the graveyard and there was no shrine, Lyra felt the hand of the Goddess upon her: She was angry and her anger was cold like the grave. They entered the temple and the acolyte led them to the cleric. He seemed excited, feverish, possessed. He led them down into the basement and Lyra knew that he would attack them. She and the stargazer had shared a glance and she knew that his thoughts were in line with hers.

Despite the warnings, she was still shocked when she finally saw the shrine that the cleric had erected. The eyes of the five-headed dragon were made of cold, shining gems and it seemed to glitter at them with malice. Before she knew what was happening, the stargazer cried to her to leave the room and shut the door. She had paused for half an instant, disbelieving why he would have them flee this fight, but he had never shown any signs of cowardice before, so she did as he asked. She could feel the terror that he had unleashed in that unholy place through the door. She had called upon her Goddess to protect them and they both felt the Lady’s blessing upon them.

Together we were strong. With his fey magic and my blade, we rid the world of one more self-righteous evil man.

She came out of her reverie and glanced up at the stars, just as a streak of light flew across the heavens.

After the Dragon

Kira lay back, easing the pressure on her swollen midsection, and sighed contentedly. She was not accustomed to so much good food on so many nights and wondered if it would be so easy to get used to this priviledge. If she stayed with these people it might, though she felt the lightness of her purse as she played with the hilt of her newly forged dagger.

_The dagger will be effective, I know it, though I have not yet had a chance to prove it in battle. It was worth most of the gold in my purse, no matter the needs for tomorrow; I will surely survive today. It has become so easy to lay waste to such beasts. The giant pigs never knew their demise when it stood right in their path. _

She thought back to her grand idea, to use the crumbling city against the beasts and kill them all in one spectacular blow from the falling building, and the thrill of running past the falling debris, and realized her companions would never be the performers she had been. They have no mind for the theatrical. How dull.

_We are still here, and the food is still good, so I guess I must be the one to carry that mantle for us all. The slaying of the dragon was quite spectacular, though, and it seemed almsot accidentally so. The battle was pitched and difficult, and we were scattered and indecisive in our approach, but then in a moment we forged an alliance that brought down the beast in moments. For that moment I truely saw the finest skill I have ever known. _

She played with the leather thong at the end of her braid, puzzling over the oddity of their party, and looked over at the strange wizard. He had been quite insistent on what magic each person should wield, going so far as to strap the belt on the star gazer and tried to place the insane contraption, supposably a helm, on her head.

Try is the right word for it. He may have a dagger, but his wielding of it is that of a child at play. He should stick to managing his clouds of death. Those cooperate much better for him.

As she played with the crown that now held the powers from the helm she recalled the ungodly piece.

No, not ungodly, maybe it was from a god afterall. A moose god. So someone could stand next to their sacred moose and worship their god. Maybe they would even sound like their god when they wore the thing. And you could hang your lantern from it at night. Perhaps even your keys.

She chuckled as she replaced her braid on her bedroll and pulled out her dagger. She had taken to sleeping with her dagger in hand after she awoke the day after the battle with the dragon to the ghastly tangle horns next to her. The wizard had been quite insistent.

It is good he looks to strengthen the party, as I fear in these ruins and Black Hills there may be magic we have yet to imagine. The dead forest and cities were created by someone afterall, and we are yet only a few days into our 20 day journey to the town of Silverton. We must be prepared for anything that may await us there.

After the Dragon

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