Timeline

A year after their victory over the dragon in the Tower of Lumelel, Dow, Ragana, Drokin, and Maris settled into their roles as lords of fifty acres of stubborn land and twenty-seven subjects. They raised a stout keep on the highest ground, with bedrooms and a hall on the main floor, finer quarters above for themselves, and a hidden armory below the head table. The villagers gathered for a feast to mark their first full cycle in power, sharing food and stories until the fires burned low. The next morning Joss Marsh burst through the doors, mud-streaked and breathless, warning that three hulking figures the size of barns were tearing up the lower fields.

The party armed themselves at once. Drokin led the way down the slope while Dow grumbled about the extra weight he had put on since the dragon fight. Joss guided them through the scrub until they spotted the ogres, one of them the chieftain Grimgor they had crossed before. Grimgor’s roar brought the others charging, and a hurled boulder narrowly missed Drokin. Arrows and pistol fire answered from Ragana and Maris, the elf’s shafts striking true. Then two spider-mounted riders and a handful of goblins spilled from the trees behind them. Dow began backing toward higher ground, muttering about his future, while Drokin argued against retreat.

The fight grew desperate. Ragana dropped two goblins in quick succession, but the press of enemies forced the party to use Dow’s teleport talisman. They reappeared inside the keep walls just as the sun climbed higher. Scouts soon returned with word that two ogres were heading back toward the swamp after raiding a farm, while Grimgor himself was driving a cart westward. The group sent Bram Voss to follow the cart and set out for the swamp themselves.

They found the ogres arguing over tracks and a dead sheep. One complained that tracking had always been the goblins’ task. The party circled ahead on horseback and blocked the cart’s path in an open field. Grimgor recognized them at once and spat curses, declaring they had ruined his plans for years. Drokin offered to let him leave in exchange for a share of the cart’s contents, but the chieftain only gripped his axe tighter. Combat erupted when Grimgor struck first, his blade biting deep into Dow. Drokin answered with a heavy blow, and Ragana finished the ogre with a final strike that left him sprawled across the cart.

Inside they found coins, potions, weapons, and a magic shield. On the ride back to the keep every rider grew ill and vomited. Mother Prue confessed she had served the drinks but feared they had been poisoned by the newest resident. The party searched the man’s quarters and discovered vials of poison along with a shard of glass. When Drokin lifted it he saw Ulric the vampire staring back before the shard went dark. They took the poisoner into custody, but before they could question him further a runner from Swamptown staggered in and gasped that the town was under siege.

Ragana slipped into the cave mouth, her steps light on the stone, but the dragon's eyes snapped open the moment she drew near. It raised its head and stared straight at her, freezing the elf in place with a terror that locked her limbs. She held her tongue as the beast lunged forward and lashed out with its tail, sending her sprawling across the floor.

The others charged in at once. Dow shouted that they would settle matters with the guild another day, that this fight was all or nothing. Maris loosed her bird familiar into the air to harry the dragon while she drew her obsidian blade. Drokin and Maris both struck at the creature and came up short. The dragon answered with a blast of flame that scorched Drokin and Dow alike.

Dow poured healing into his companions, mending what he could while Maris pressed her attack and found a vital spot with her blade. Ragana drew the mastercrafted longbow she had claimed earlier and loosed an arrow that sank deep, calling out for the others to find the dragon's weakness. Dow followed with a blow that ignored the dragon's thick hide.

The beast clawed at Dow and breathed fire once more, driving the party back. Maris tried a spell from one of her consumables, yet it scattered harmlessly. The fight ground on with claws, fire, and steel trading blows until Drokin landed a heavy strike that drew cheers from his friends. The dragon turned its fury on Maris, Dow, and Drokin, leaving them battered.

Dow spent the last of his strength to restore Drokin before the fighter could fall. Ragana nocked another arrow, drew, and released. The shaft flew true and struck the dragon in its exposed flank. The great beast shuddered, then collapsed to the cavern floor with a final crash.

The party stood amid the smoke and silence, then broke into shouts of triumph. Dow leaned on his weapon, breathing hard, while Maris sheathed her blade and called her bird back to her shoulder. Ragana lowered the bow, and Drokin managed a grin despite his wounds. They had survived the dragon's lair, and the weight of the victory settled over them like the cool air of the cave.

In the common room of the inn in an unknown town in the outlands of Silvereth, Lirael leaned across the counter and told the three companions what she had seen. Two pale strangers had taken keys more than a week earlier, yet their beds stayed untouched and they never returned for meals. She slid a single gold coin across the wood, its surface worn perfectly smooth as though it had passed through countless hands over centuries. A townsman pulled Drokin aside, accepted the offered coins, and muttered that the troubles were tied to something called the Veil before he fell silent again.

Ragana pressed her ear to the cellar door just as a heavy fist struck the front entrance. Drokin moved to the window and saw shapes gathering outside, one gripping a hammer. An orange spark flared beyond the glass. A robed figure stepped into view, hurled fire into the room, and sent Drokin staggering from the blast. Shattered panes followed. Revenants and skeletons clambered through every opening while smoke began to climb the stairs.

Dow lifted the amulet at his throat. Light burst outward and struck several of the intruders, driving them back. Ragana shouted for the others to draw together and asked what they should do. Dow answered that they would stay close and hold the line. Above them the vampire wizard appeared on the roof, flames licking the shingles. The party marked the most wounded revenant and turned their efforts against the spellcaster. Ragana raised the lantern she carried, and its sudden flare washed over the rooftop, searing the vampire and several of his minions.

The wizard gave ground, but Drokin pressed after him. Two more vampires closed in, forcing the fighter into a narrow space near the chimney. One blade came down hard; Drokin caught it on his shield at the last instant. Dow spent the last of his strength to mend the worst of the wounds, pulling Drokin back from the edge. Ragana called that it was time to leave. After a quick exchange the three agreed on the Crown of Heroism. The artifact flared, the burning inn vanished around them, and the companions found themselves on open ground beyond the walls of the unknown town in the outlands of Silvereth.

The night air was cold and quiet. Behind them the inn roof collapsed in a shower of sparks. Drokin wiped soot from his face and looked at his companions. They had survived the sudden assault and carried away the first clear hint that the pale visitors and the Veil were connected. The road ahead would require answers, but for the moment they were together and free of the flames.

The party pressed onward through the twisting corridors of the mental prison, their minds still bound within the vampire’s domain while their bodies were carried ever closer to some hidden courtyard in the waking world. Ragana scanned the walls for any forgotten stair or ladder that might lead them upward, but the passages offered only more doors and lengthening gloom. Drokin heaved open the nearest door, and Harlina slipped ahead to check what lay beyond. A long hall stretched into blackness, lined with additional doors on the right. After a brief debate the group committed to the corridor, weapons ready.

Animated suits of armor lurched from the walls without warning. Dow met the first with a crushing blow that scattered its plates across the stone. Drokin’s blade followed through on the second, cleaving deep and leaving the construct in ruin. The survivors of that clash moved into a chamber whose mirrored walls reflected distorted versions of their own lives. One showed Drokin with fangs and crimson eyes, another placed Harlina at court beside the vampire himself. Those false images stepped free of the glass and attacked at once.

The fight turned savage in the confined space. Harlina struck her reflection twice, the second blow sending the duplicate vanishing into shards. Ragana drove her blades into her own double until it dissolved. Drokin’s counterpart landed a telling strike that left him bloodied, yet the real fighter refused to yield. Evil reflections continued their assault until Dow shattered his own duplicate and the last of the mirror-spawn faded. In the aftermath Ragana suddenly found herself outside the kitchen in the true world. She saw Ulrin clearly for what he was and cried out before the vision yanked her back.

They had little time to recover. Drokin stepped on a hidden trigger and plunged into a spiked pit. Ragana flung a rope down, yet his second attempt to climb sent him crashing once more. When he finally stood again, the group tore at the fiery tapestries that lined the next hall. Each rip birthed a fire elemental, and soon the air burned with their presence. Ragana and Dow ripped down several hangings while Harlina struck at the creatures that had already formed. One by one the elementals fell until Dow delivered the final blow that extinguished the last of them.

Harlina pressed a healing draught into Drokin’s hands. The potion steadied him enough for the party to catch their breath. Yet the respite proved brief. Harlina’s awareness slipped once more into the waking castle. She found herself in a long room with glass doors and saw Auren ordering servants about. She struck the man with a bare-knuckled blow that rocked him, but his dagger answered and pain dragged her back into the dungeon. The others gathered around her as she returned, their wounds tended and their resolve hardening. Above them the real castle still waited, and the vampire’s plans continued to unfold.

In the flickering torchlight of the mental prison, Drokin’s grandmother appeared once more with urgent words, urging the companions to climb free of the vampire’s trap and seek stairs or any path upward before Ulrin could drag them to the hidden glade. The group paused to trace their earlier steps through the twisting passages, weighing whether the secret door or the unexplored double doors offered the quickest route out. Harlina pressed her ear to one door and declared it safe, so Drokin drove his boot against the lock. The bolt shattered inward, revealing a chamber that felt older than the rest, its cracked stones piled with gleaming coins around a lone chest in an alcove. Dow stepped forward to examine the chest while Drokin shouted that none of it was real, yet the warning came too late. Ragana reached for the mechanism and the explosion hurled her into the coins, which began to churn and swallow her like quicksand. Tally and Drokin lunged to pull her free, but the shifting gold dragged her under until only her hand remained above the surface. Dow pried open the chest anyway and found a flask inside; he drank, and the burning liquid tore through him until a trap door cracked open beneath the coins and poisonous vapors began to rise. Tally hauled Ragana back through the prior rooms while Dow and Drokin dove into the bubbling pile to escape the fumes.

The two rogues soon reached a final chamber where circular stairs rose toward freedom, yet animated suits of armor stood guard at the base. Harlina and Tally flung open doors from opposite sides to split the guardians’ attention. Ragana struck one suit with a fierce blow, and Tally drove another back a step, but the armored figures answered with heavy strikes that left Ragana crumpled and still. Tally fought on alone, inching toward the stairs until an attack sent her stumbling upward. In that moment the illusion shattered.

Harlina awoke screaming in the real tower as Ulrin drove a dagger into her chest. The others found themselves chained in the same courtyard, the vampire already advancing. Ragana’s fingers flew over the locks until the chains fell free. Dow pressed his sunburst amulet to his chest and the party vanished in a flash of light, reappearing at the foot of another stair. Ulrin’s final strike caught them as they fled, yet they climbed anyway, Ragana half-carrying the unconscious half-orc while Drokin bore Harlina’s body. At the top they burst into a crowded hall where Avalryn stood with his guards. Dow’s shout that Ulrin was a vampire sent the soldiers into motion. A cleric bent over Harlina and confirmed what the others already feared. Dow sang the old dwarven lament while the rest offered Avalryn a terse account of the night’s betrayals. The lord promised coin for Ulrin’s capture or proof of his ties to the Krimkar, but offered no lodging or healing. The companions returned instead to their ship.

Two days later they laid Harlina to rest beneath silver-barked trees outside the city walls. They bought fresh potions and cloaks of deep green, then gathered on deck to decide whether to sail north after the vampire or seek safer waters. Dow had reached a new threshold of strength, Drokin carried the mark of survival that let him stand longer in battle, and Tally felt the first stirrings of greater endurance. The ship rocked gently beneath them as the sun climbed, and the choice of pursuit waited like an open horizon.

The companions gathered in Silvereth to plot their approach to Avalryn's grand affair, settling on the ruse of servants to gain entry without drawing notice.

Dow insisted on proper attire for the occasion and spent time selecting fine garments that suited a dwarf of his standing. Harlina concealed throwing axes beneath the folds of her clothes while Dow acquired a sturdy horse and prepared to arrive as a mounted guest rather than slip inside with the others.

Once within the ballroom, Dow mingled among the guests, sharing words and sampling the food and drink laid out on long tables. A sudden dizziness overtook him, warping the chamber into a twisted mockery of itself where suits of armor stirred and closed in with heavy steps. Harlina and Ragana hurried forward to steady him, only to feel the same disorientation pull at their senses, thrusting all three into a frantic struggle against the animated metal forms.

The last helm struck the floor with a ringing clang, and in that moment Drokin blinked back to the ballroom, the broken helmet clutched in his hands and a well-dressed man at his side murmuring reassurances that it had been nothing more than a jest. The stranger invited him to sit, yet Drokin replaced the helm and felt a guiding hand on his shoulder instead. The vampire, cloaked now as a guest calling himself Ulrin, urged him toward the back door for fresh air, and though Drokin resisted, his steps carried him onward until the vision shattered and he recounted the encounter to the others.

They debated the nature of the deceptions before pressing on through the kitchen passage, emerging onto a balcony that overlooked the city beneath strange black and red banners, with a distant tower rising ominously in the hills beyond.

Returning inside, they found the cooks vanished in bursts of smoke, leaving a snarling werewolf and a horned demon in their place while the vampire lingered at the edge casting spells that fed the chaos. Ragana charged the beast and drove her axe deep, Drokin followed with a heavy swing that left the creature reeling, and Pippa's arrow finished it outright. The demon turned its fury on her, but Dow's shield turned aside its lash and his own strike brought the fiend low until it crumbled to ash.

Another vision seized Dow, placing him once more among the revelers beside Avalryn as Ulrin offered his arm, yet recognition of the malice in those eyes snapped him free.

The group advanced warily until Drokin spotted a suspicious seam in the floor ahead and halted them before a pit trap. Harlina cried out when Dow neared a cracked stone, and Drokin prodded it with his sword to reveal the spikes below. He leapt the gap, landing as a blast of wind threw open the far door and exposed a corridor lined with animated armor. Harlina followed across, then Ragana, who felled one knight with swift dagger strikes while Stour's blow crushed another.

As the melee raged, a vision of Drokin's grandmother appeared, grappling with the vampire Ulrin before pressing healing draughts into his hands and pointing urgently toward a distant glade. Her form faded, Ulrin's compulsion tugged at their minds once more, and the companions found themselves returned to the stark reality of the mental dungeon, its halls stretching before them with fresh dangers ahead.

After three long days marooned on the accursed island, the party spotted sails cutting across the horizon. Silas greeted them from the deck of his vessel with an easy grin, offering passage off the rocky shores. Dow stepped forward at once, declaring their need to leave, while Harlina muttered about the half-elf’s past treachery that had nearly cost her life. The group boarded despite the lingering suspicion, and Drokin made his warning plain: another misstep from Silas would end in blood. The crew included the stout dwarf Strombard and several humans bearing the colors of Jan Castle. They weighed anchor and threaded through fog-shrouded channels flanked by sheer cliffs.

Stour suggested watches through the night, two always awake, while Ragana lay still and watched Silas with unblinking eyes. By midday they reached a cliffside warren of carved doors and windows. Inside the common room, treasures and masterwork weapons lined the walls, and old adventurers like the dwarf Loken and the elf Ilmen sat among the spoils. Silas laid out the rules: the refuge stayed secret, and useful news from every journey was required or death would follow. Loken reinforced the point with a cold stare when the idea of deception arose. Silas revealed that the chimera they had released now moved toward Silverrath and wanted fresh reports on its path. He offered the ship for six thousand coin. After sharp negotiation the party paid and claimed it as their own. Loken mentioned a prior band that had vanished, then pointed them toward empty rooms upstairs.

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Silas urged them onward to Silverrath, where supplies and answers waited. He pressed them to learn what they could about the Jan Castle refugees and the chimera’s deeds. The companions spent the day sharpening their edge: Harlina acquired a finely balanced shortbow, Ragana claimed new daggers and reinforced armor, and Stour reinforced his own plate. Dow haggled for ether and minor improvements before they gathered, hands clasped in their familiar chant, and set sail once more.

Days passed at sea with Dow drilling the crew through maneuvers and laps around the deck, Ragana honing her aim, Drokin staring at the endless water, and Stour catching what rest he could. As the final island faded behind them at dusk, a shout rang out from the lookout. An enemy vessel closed fast. Ogres clambered aboard, one splashing uselessly into the waves while another followed. Harlina’s arrows struck true, Stour’s axe bit deep, and the ogre captain landed with a sweeping strike that staggered Harlina. Ragana answered with a telling shot that left the captain reeling. Dow closed the distance and drove his blade home, ending the fight. The party seized the captured craft, Harlina securing it with practiced knots, and discovered coin and a peculiar crossbow among the spoils.

They towed their prize into Silverrath harbor and sold it for a tidy sum. At the Gilded Anchor they questioned the innkeeper about chimera sightings, but he waved them off. A farmer at a nearby table spoke of a sudden gale that had flattened his barn six miles north. Stour bought rounds and pressed for details while the others listened. Later a pale stranger approached Drokin, laid a hand on his shoulder, and spoke softly. Drokin’s eyes glazed. He turned and walked into the night toward the graveyard beyond the city wall.

Ragana and Stour gave chase. Ragana leapt onto Drokin’s back to shake him free, yet he struck out in his trance and sent Stour sprawling. Inside the inn the pale man tried the same charm on Stour, then dropped a pamphlet inviting guests to a court gathering hosted by Eborin before slipping away. Outside, Drokin shook off the spell just as skeletal warriors rose from the earth. Ragana loosed arrows while her hound dashed for help. The vampire returned, hurling bolts of force that drove Drokin to his knees, then vanished into a swarm of bats. Dow and Harlina arrived in time to see the vision the bats left behind: the creature lurking behind the king and queen of Silvereth, with a speaker in Jan Castle colors at their side.

Kilian’s voice rose with sudden fervor as Drokin declared that Lumalel sought his aid and that enemies would fall. The party pieced together that Lumalel, son of the vampire, posed as a kingly candidate. They spoke of gathering more intelligence before the danger grew. Stour urged them back to the ship to heal and rest, warning against further traps. Harlina completed the sale of their vessel and divided the coin, granting a bonus to the crew. They argued briefly over watches, then turned toward the docks with the weight of the vision still fresh. Dow and Drokin spoke of the levels they had earned, already planning the strength they would need for the trials ahead.

The last anyone saw of Yohdels and his crew was the night they left Silas’s sanctum. Five seasoned adventurers, their packs heavy with supplies and their spirits high after days of rest and planning. They spoke of a forgotten ruin hidden among the jagged reefs far to the north, a place said to hold ancient weapons and lost knowledge.

They sailed under clear skies, their ship cutting cleanly through the waves. For three days, all was well. Then the sea grew unnaturally still.

On the fourth night, the water around their vessel began to churn. Massive tentacles, thick as ship masts and covered in suckers the size of shields, rose from the depths without warning. The Kraken struck with terrifying speed. The ship was lifted and slammed back into the water, its hull splintering like kindling. Screams were swallowed by the roar of the sea as the creature dragged the vessel downward.

Yohdels fought to the end, hacking at the tentacles with his axe even as the deck tilted beneath him. One by one, his crew was pulled beneath the waves. Within minutes, the sea had claimed them all. Only shattered planks and a single bloodstained cloak remained, drifting silently on the dark water as the Kraken sank back into the abyss.

The party moved steadily along the ancient stone path that rose through the mire, the swamp bubbling thickly on either side as they kept their eyes sharp for any sign of danger. Ahead loomed the ruined church, its archway scarred and broken, yet bearing a fresh warning carved in the tongue of demons. They paused only long enough to steady themselves before pressing forward, leaving the croaking taunts of vulture creatures behind in the trees. Those scavengers spoke of a Bone Man long gone and a great ritual soon to come, but the companions chose speed and silence over idle threats.

Near the church doors a grim sight met them. A massive figure, perhaps once a giant, lay pinned to the ground while ratmen drove their blades into his hide again and again. Ragana loosed the first arrow, striking true and drawing blood. Drokin charged in with sword raised, felling one of the creatures in a single blow. Dow moved to join the fray, his shield raised, though the ratmen swarmed thicker with every passing moment. Reinforcements poured from holes around the foundation, and a robed spellcaster among them hurled bolts of force that found their marks. The companions fought with grim purpose, Ragana picking off the leader in blue robes and later the remaining caster with a well-placed shot. Drokin held the line while Dow traded blows, and at last the giant stirred. With a final surge of strength he crushed two of his tormentors beneath his feet before slumping once more.

Dow knelt beside the dying giant, cradling his head as life ebbed away. Gormand pressed a talisman into the dwarf’s hand, murmuring that it must be saved for the direst need and that its power was bound to the obsidian heart they carried. As the giant’s eyes closed, the talisman flared, and a wave of healing washed over the battered group. They gathered their strength, then forced open the church doors and stepped once more into the gloom. Claw marks scored the stone walls, some longer than a man’s arm. Winder the dog growled low at the threshold of a new passage, and the companions descended a spiraling stair into a chamber thick with the scent of mold and old stone.

At the far end of the great hall paced a chimera, its lion head and dragon maw turning toward the intruders. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, some half-eaten, others reduced to bone. Kilian stepped forward alone, weapons discarded, calling out in hopes of learning the beast’s purpose. The creature answered only with a low growl and the scrape of its scorpion tail. The chimera was blind and trapped. They struck a deal, they would use Gormund's talisman to teleport the chimera to freedom if it would let them pass.

As they journeyed deeper, the true plot was revealed. A great demon was ascending the depths of the dark. Drokin met the winged beast upon a bridge overlooking an endlessly deep cavern below. Harlina and Aurelian turned to see that a swarm of ratmen had followed them into the dungeon, trapping them with the demon. Aurelian used his magic to raise up a magical barrier as Ragana's arrows slew demons creeping out of the cavern below. A ratman birst through the barrier. Then another. Harlina jumped to protect the mage.

Dow joined Drokin upon the bridge. They battled the demon as Ragana desperately tried to keep the swelling demon swarm beneath them at bay. Finally, the Drokin through down the demon with a final strike. The ratmen swarm dispersed. The demons fled back down the cavern. The demon's were once again locked in their dungeons. At least for now...

In the misty reaches of the Stormcrest Isles, on the rugged shores of Swordell, a band of adventurers caught wind of an ancient dungeon, long abandoned after serving as a grim prison for captives of forgotten wars. Drawn by tales of hidden treasures, Saug, the cunning spellweaver, unearthed a weathered map, and with Javen the swift scout, Cyrillia the watchful rogue, and Flora the stout warrior, they set out through a drizzling forest, boots splashing in muddy pools as rain pattered from the canopy above.

Javen led them true, spotting the iron gate that guarded the dungeon's maw. With torches flickering against the damp stone, they pressed inward—Flora at the fore, Saug close behind, Cyrillia and Javen guarding the rear. The gate's groan echoed into the void, and as they advanced, checking every shadow for snares, a chill wind stirred. Iron-barred cells lined the halls, their doors creaking open to release shambling skeletons, bones rattling like dry leaves in a gale.

Battle erupted in the dim corridors. Saug swung his staff, shattering one undead foe into dust. Javen's arrows flew true, splintering limbs and felling another. Cyrillia dodged and struck, while Flora's axe cleaved through brittle forms, though she bore wounds from their clawing retaliation. The wind howled as the last skeleton crumbled, leaving silence in its wake.

Deeper in, they probed an old cell, but a crumbling ceiling trapped Cyrillia briefly under falling debris, bruising her as water dripped from cracks above. Undeterred, they pressed on, dispatching an armored sentinel with Javen's precise shot that severed its skull. Riches followed—gold and gleaming ether divided amid hurried whispers.

Yet peril mounted. In a chamber marked as the mess hall, skeletons mimed a grotesque feast at tables, turning with knives and forks in hand. Saug unleashed a furious blizzard, ice encasing and shattering many, while Javen's bow and Flora's axe finished the survivors. As they claimed chests of coin and fragments, a greater horde surged from below—endless zombies led by armored horrors.

Another blizzard from Saug thinned their ranks, but the tide was relentless. Heeding Ragana's call to flee, the party retreated, slamming doors against pounding fists. The dungeon quaked, debris exploding as they burst into the forest, escaping with their lives, pockets heavy with spoils, and hearts steeled by the ordeal.