The Deeper Shadow, The Darkest Night
Session Thirty of the Notoriety of Kings Campaign

Zephday, 31 Midsummer 204

With no heed for their own safety the Chosen of Narramac plunge into the mist after Tular, Blaine and Sanjay at their heels. Thanks to Esker some of them have a greater understanding of their swords, and they feel that they can use their weapons to greater effect against the shadow circle.

"I'm going to flame on!" yells Nicos as he rushes through the trees, filled with power by the full moon. The rest of the group consider this to be a singularly bad idea, as they are all standing too close to him, but he begins to disrobe nonetheless, throwing armour and coarse woollen underthings into the trees.

The progress of the eight is soon barred however, by a pack of emaciated hounds that lurch out of the mist toward them. Elias recognises them as hell hounds, recalling his painful experience against one in the abandoned Hadradan sun temple in the Gutterhive. Nicos curses loudly that almost all his powers are useless on these fiery creatures, but eventually follows Ravenna's advice to shut up, draw his sword and get on with it.

The Chosen of Narramac explode into action carving them way through these creatures. The hounds are not a serious match for the well armoured and powerful group. Their fire breaths do little more than scorch the group – with the exception of Nicos who is actually healed by it, to their dismay. The outcome is never really in doubt, although Ravenna has a few dodgy moments as she tries to fend off two of the beasts with her dagger. However, the hounds have slowed them down, Tular is now further ahead, and if they are to help him, they must be quick.

As they continue running along the path, a guttural roar can be heard from the mist. Trolls. Once against allies of the shadow circle these creatures are on the move again against our heroes. "Leave this to me," says Nicos as he covers himself in flame and strides forward manfully. As soon as the bunch of six trolls come in range Nicos summons power from Calafax and unleashes a devastating fireball-attack on the creatures. The trolls howl in pain and fear and quickly flee into the burning woodland. The party regard one another suspiciously. The trolls were not so meek in the Úngorn. It is evident that Zerrimir and his Shadow Circle do simply not have the resources here in Kerikal as they did in Norandor. This is obviously a last desperate attack, but why should they sacrifice themselves in this manner? A suspicion begins to form in Ravenna and in Arvan.

Suddenly the group hear a cry it the dark and the sounds of fighting. They recognise both Tular and Zerrimir's voices raised in anger; hurriedly the Chosen press forward as Blaine and Sanjay pursue the trolls. Coming to a clearing in the woodland, the party see the two archdruids in a pitched battle. Tular has his scimitar before him, and is fending off the assaults of a wolf, eight feet at the shoulder, that they take to be Zerrimir. This assumption is quickly proved true as Tular calmly places his hand into his robes and produces a handful of dust that he scatters over the wolf. In an instant, Zerrimir has been forced back into his own form, and he staggers back against the tree in shock. Tular raises his sword, a look of triumph etched on his manic face.

The Chosen explode into action. Brack takes his two hefty axes and hurls them at Zerrimir. One miraculously strikes the archdruid in the shoulder, the other thumping into a tree an inch above the man's head – both miss Arvan and Raza by a whisker as they charge in to help Tular. Ravenna steps back and flings magic missiles at Zerrimir, Nicos curses at not being able to launch a fireball, but opts for a flame arrow spell instead and sends two bolts of fire at his target. Zerrimir screams. "Ha! Remember that do you?" Nicos calls, happily recalling when he blasted Zerrimir off a cliff in the Úngorn. He then realises that the druid did indeed remember, and is glowing with an anti-fire aura that has completely protected him from Nicos's missiles. The cleric swears loudly. Through the fire and the chaos, Elias pulls back his bow and lets a series of deadly accurate shots, as Tular hacks away wildly with his scimitar.

The truth of the matter is that Zerrimir does not have a chance. Powerful as he is, the druid has lost his ability to wildshape, and the flurry of blows that rain down upon him from his foes are sufficient distraction to prevent him from casting any spells against them. Raza leaps back into the fight and pummels Zerrimir decisively. "No, I won't be beaten!" Zerrimir cries, "I cannot! There is too much at stake." Wildly the archdruid lashes out with a dagger dripping with black poison and catches Raza in the chest. The monk stumbles out of the fight and falls to his knees. The wound hisses and bubbles menacingly, but summoning the reserves of his will-power Raza is able to resist the effects of the toxin. Arvan takes his sword and plunges it into the shadow druid's dark heart. "No….." Zerrimir gurgles as he dies, "You fools, you fools….."

Tular is beside himself with glee. "Nothing can stand in our way now!" he announces, almost to himself. Any suspicion the group have of Tular is momentarily eclipsed by the prospect of booty from ransacking Zerrimir's body. This proves to be a mistake. Elias, Nicos and Ravenna cast detect magic spells and scan the fallen druid. The man's armour and shield carry an enchantment, although he doesn't seem to be carrying anything else. Quickly they move to strip the corpse. Elias calls Arvan over to see whether the magical armour will fit him. Arvan pulls it on slowly, the scaled hide expanding to encompass his half-orc frame. There is a slight disagreement over who should take possession of the poisoned dagger. Ravenna believes that it should her, but Elias hangs on to it for the moment

During the fuss over the body, Brack chances to glance over his shoulder at Tular. What he sees is quite surprising. The archdruid has walked a little way from the spot where Zerrimir fell, and now seems to be engaged in an animated conversation with himself. Tular is shaking his head, then nodding it. There are tears in his eyes for a second, before he hangs his head and turns to the party. Brack senses something odd is going on, and then he sees a strange shape surrounding Tular. Standing directly behind him, aping his every move is a creature Brack has never see before. Tular comes up no further than the thing's muscled chest. The dwarf stares at the bulbous, neckless head that sits atop the body – a face that seems to be mostly teeth. Huge talons extend from arms as thick as a man's leg and on the creature's back, dark leathery wings stretch from one side of the clearing to the other. Brack blinks as he realises he can see directly through this monster, that it fades in and out of his perception. He is just about to say something when Tular and the creature throw their arms at forward at the party.

The temperature in the clearing plummets, as a painful blizzard engulfs the group. As the hard ice thuds into our heroes it sticks to clothing armour and skin, slowly engulfing the unfortunate Chosen in a watery coffin. Ravenna, Nicos, Raza and Arvan are encased instantly but Brack and Elias manage to remain free, staggering against the force of the wind and the overcoat of ice that threatens to overwhelm them.

Brack launches himself at Tular, magical axe drawn and swings it firmly into the archdruid's mid-drift. Tular doubles over and staggers backward. Brack presses his advantage, as Tular looks a little confused. Elias looks at the poisoned dagger in his hand, and a plan forms. He casts true strike and draws his hand back to throw the dagger at Tular. Unfortunately at this point the ice overcomes him and he is frozen like the others. A statue on the verge of throwing the dagger. Brack battles on, hitting Tular once more before he too is beaten by the ice, and frozen in mid-swing.

Tular sits up slowly and surveys the party. Each of them are frozen helpless in blocks of ice. All of them except one. Nicos's prison bubbling nicely, huge clouds of steam are escaping in the heavens. He has ignites his fire aura and is trying to burn his way out. It is a testament to the power of the magic holding him that the ice is not immediately evaporated by the full-moon flames of Calafax. Yet Nicos is the only one making any progress. Brack and the others strain against the ice but to no avail.

Tular recognises the danger immediately and draws a long, thin wand from his pocket. Stalking across the clearing he takes aim at Nicos. Ravenna thinks quickly, and remembers the words of the dwarf Esker. Karma. What goes around comes around. They need to be lucky, very lucky. If Ravenna could just get the sword to function. She concentrates….. and Tular slips over a patch of ice and lands on his back. The green ray from the wand shoots into the sky where it explodes brightly. Ravenna and Nicos both recognised the ray. Tular is holding a wand of disintegration. Nicos shudders and redoubles his flame.

A little embarrassed, Tular gets to his feet still clutching the wand, but he puts it back in his pocket. He casts a spell at Nicos and extinguishes the cleric's fire aura. He then shouts loudly in Gorebash, and within moments a host of orcs have descended on the clearing. These are not Goretooth's orcs, but orcs from within the Plain of Acheron who serve the new master there. A figure who certainly looks to be Tular at this stage. "Quickly!" says the druid, "Take their weapons!" The orcs break out picks and hammers and begin to set about the party, trying to uncase the ice without releasing our heroes. Tular turns his attention to Nicos.

The fire cleric ignites his aura again, but Tular dispels it. A third time and Tular dispels it, a fourth time with the same result. Ravenna is evidently trying to tell Nicos something, but the cleric cannot quite gather what, until he realises his own sword! He isn't sure what it does, but it somehow increases the power of his link with Calafax. Still holding the sword in his hand, Nicos concentrates. "There's no way this ice can stop Calafax's flame," he thinks confidently, "Calafax will get me out of this!" He ignites the flame again, the sword bursts into light and the ice is gone in a second. Tular did indeed try to dispel the flame, but this time it completely overwhelmed his magic. Nicos is free.

However, he is alone against Tular a several dozen orcs. The orcs have succeeded in taking the swords of Raza, Brack and Ravenna and are currently working on Elias and Arvan's. "I will deal with this one," says Tular, transforms himself into a dire wolf and leaps at Nicos's throat. Nicos screams and tries to defend himself. The outcome of a battle between Nicos and Tular is never really in doubt. Tular has protected himself from fire and bites his way through Nicos's aura with little trouble. Nicos drops several fireballs on the archdruid, but they do not seem to phase him, although each one weakens his protective shield. Nicos despairs, trying to activate the sword. "Oh feck, feck, feck, feck, feck!" he yells to Calafax, "Get me out of this!" But the sword does not activate. Ravenna, trying to safe him activates her own sword, trying to instil some fantastic luck into Nicos, but nothing seems to happen. The wolf jaws crunch down upon Nicos and soon he is bleeding and dying on the forest floor.

Tular turns back into human form and retrieves Nicos's sword. Its blade has retracted back into the handle. He turns in triumph; the orcs have taken the swords from each of the party members now, and one foul-smelling soldier hands them to the archdruid. All signs of doubt or recriminations are now gone from Tular's face, as he regarding the party. He draws his scimitar, standing as he is over Nicos's helpless and dying form.

"Do not take it so hard," he calls to Arvan. "I must thank you. You see the darkness has expanded as far as it can without a further push. The energy of your swords will provide that push. I will open a portal into the Great Dark and the hand of the Master will stretch out and take this land for his own!" Tular smiles and turns to his orcs. "Kill them," he says in an emotionless voice.

At that moment a shout goes up from the surrounding woodland. The forces of the Shadow Circle have been routed. It is Goretooth and his own orc force that are cutting their way through the forest toward Tular. One of Tular's scouts report that Goretooth will be on them in moments. Tular looks at the party, momentarily torn and then says: "We cannot be delayed. Follow me!" He leads his orc force away into the darkness, leaving the party alive, yet still trapped in their pillars of ice.

Almost as soon as the last of Tular's orcs disappear into the night does Goretooth and his force barrel into the rear of the clearing. The sight that meets Arvan's father stops him in his tracks. With the exception of Nicos bleeding slowly to death, the rest of the Chosen are encased in ice, and presumably fast running out of air. "Well, well, well," says the orc leader. "By Gruumsh, there's a sight you don't see every day." Smiling slightly Goretooth orders his orcs to free the party. The orcs lay their hands on their axes and warhammers and begin to batter the icy cocoons holding the party. The Chosen are brusied and slightly concussed by the time they are released into the fresh air. They slump to the floor shivering, as the sun rises on a new day.

Caladay, 32 Midsummer 204

Goretooth lays a hand on his son's shoulder. "Tricky buggers these druids," he says comfortingly. "Good job you sent up that flare, otherwise we'd never have found you in time." Flare? Ravenna realises the truth. She supposes that they were lucky, but not quite in the way she expected. Not that she's going to be doing that again any time soon, she finds it typical that just as she learned how to use her sword it has been taken away from her. Arvan punches the earth impotently. "I should have known," he says. "I should have known." Goretooth asks what the druid is talking about and the party quickly explain about Tular's treachery.

Fortunately for Nicos, Arvan does not forget his part for long and hurries over to the cleric to try and put his friend back together. Nicos is all thanks and expletives, and then he looks at the rest of the party. The swords have gone. The swords given to them by Narramac for what appears to be an increasingly bad reason. The swords that are the only things holding them together. "Right, I'm off," he says. "The swords bound us together, they're gone so there's no point hanging around any more." Nicos thinks of Rio out there somewhere, and now he appears to have a choice, he can't quite come to grips with fact that Arvan's fight is his fight.

Ravenna seems on the verge of agreeing with him, but Elias and Raza speak plainly and forcefully that no-one is going anywhere. "Don't you think I want to drop everything and look for Alessandre?" Elias asks. "I've got my priorities." Raza is in agreement. "If we don't stop this now it is going to spread." Elias nods, "Eventually it will get to Norandor and then everyone, including Rio is going to be in danger." Nicos turns to Goretooth and asks how many orcs Tular has working for him. Brack translates for the orc. Goretooth pretends to think for a moment a then says, with some venom, "If the druid commands the same force that I did then he has thousands of orcs."

"We haven't got a hope," Nicos says authoritatively. He points out that they have, at most fifty druids, two hundred orcs and (if they're lucky) another five hundred barbarians. Tular's got thousands under his command, plus whatever dark magic he can muster. Nicos is not happy and he wants to go home. The truth is that most of the other party members can see his point of view. No-one wants to get killed. The swords gave them an edge, and now that edge has gone. Now they have to work without it.

Without thinking, the party looks toward Arvan. Even if the sword had not instilled qualities of leadership in the half-orc, this is still his quest. Arvan stands. He says that Tular was obviously a Malficent from the beginning and that they have been tricked. But there is still time. If they leave and leave now, they may still be able to catch him before he opens the gateway he threatened. They have to leave and they have to leave now.

Nicos is unconvinced, but he will go with his friends. At this moment, a force of allies arrive on the scene. Archdruid Salvatore and Parvan arrive along with a bloody Sanjay and Blaine. Esker brings up the rear. They quickly tell the druids what has happened. Salvatore is not happy. Looking at Zerrimir's corpse he reappraises his thoughts, and says that he now believes Tular was responsible for Raldan's murder, and not Zerrimir. He does not blame the party. It would take more skilled practitioners than they to detect a disguised druid.

They ask Parvan and the druids what the dust was that Tular had with him. Arvan says they saw him use it before, when they were ambushed in the Úngorn last month. Parvan says that it is Pessilroot. It is a collection of special herbs, combined together in a certain manner. The secret of its making is known only to the Inner Circle, and not even to all of them. It forcibly returns any shapechanged creature to its original shape. It only they had some of that to use against Tular! Ravenna gives a yell. The pouch of pessilroot that Tular used against Zerrimir is lying on the ground in the middle of the clearing. Tular must have dropped it when he changed form to attack Nicos and not picked it up again! "That was lucky," says Parvan. Ravenna pauses. It was lucky. She realises that her sword had worked the second time she used it, although again it did not do precisely what she wanted. The party divide the pessilroot into two bags. Ravenna takes one and Elias the other.

Arvan takes charge and tells everyone assembled to gather their forces. Salvatore says that fifty or more initiates have joined them and Goretooth pledges all his orcs who can stand. "I know I'll out number you," he says, "but I suppose that you'll just have to trust me." Arvan nods and looks around into the woodland. The morning sun is burning away the mist of last night. This is as good a place as any, he thinks. Calling his companions to him, Arvan speaks to Tok, Carrax and the rats. He tells them that they will not want to follow where he is going, and that they are to remain here. He will return for them, if he can. The creatures seem a little confused by this, but they depart. Carax soars into the sky, Tok gives Arvan an affectionate nip before trundling off into the woodland, the two rats riding on his back. Soon he is lost in the undergrowth. Snowy watches them go, then licks Ravenna gently on the hand.

Even with the best will it is almost an hour before they are ready to pursue Tular. Wulf, Arvan and Brack lead the way westward towards the Plains of Acheron, his remaining rangers leaving a trail so that the barbarian allies to come can follow easily. They walk for about an hour through the morning sunshine before coming to a vast shadow, through which the sun's rays cannot fully penetrate.

It is with a deep sense of dread, and fear of violent death, that the small army steps forward and enters the darkness. Each member feels a cold blast of air envelope them, they remove coats and blankets to wrap around their shoulders, but there is no protection of the chill that freezes their marrow. They step through onto a delicate grey powder that rises from the ground as whisky smoke before them. This is worse than the devastation the Chosen saw in the Úngorn. Here the defilement extends out to the horizon and beyond, and there is a terrible feeling of death in the air. Whatever happens in this final battle, nothing will ever grow in this place again. Arvan is sensible that he has lost one battle before even beginning to fight.

The druids of the Kerikite Circle are incredibly uneasy. Their animal companions balk at the border and refuse to go any further. Even the familiars are not keen to progress onwards. However, somewhere out there are the magical swords given to the Chosen by Narramac, and a madman wants to use them to open the gates of Hell. Even the orcs know they have little choice but to press on.

Fortunately, the fine powder covering the ground makes tracking very simple. It doesn't take a ranger to find evidence that Tular, and a force of orcs roughly twice the size of Goretooth's moved through this way recently. "Orcs move quickly, and do not tire," Wulf says. "It will he hard going." Goretooth walks forward slowly and looks at the ground. Grinning he looks at the ranger. The party can feel Wulf's blood pressure rising. "I wouldn't go that way if I were you," he says jovially. Wulf gives the orc an evil look but Goretooth doesn't seem phased by it.

Arvan's father explains that the centre of the plains are held by large forces of orcs. Orcs that he used to control, by-the-by. Also their master, presumably this Tular, has populated the area with dark demonic creatures. To head straight across after him would be suicide, even with a force of this side. Their one hope it to stick to the passes through the trackless mountains that border the plains. Goretooth thinks he knows where the source of the devastation is, and he believes that he can get the army within a few miles of that point without being seen. Wulf is unconvinced. The mountains are dangerous in and of themselves and will double their travel time. "Not by the paths I know. I'm sure that the Order can move as fast as an orc, and you rangers are renowned for your powers of endurance. And there are no dangers in the mountains. Any creature that could threaten us moved out when the devastation started. They are deserted."

Once again, the group has little choice but to trust Goretooth. They head north and begin to skirt the plains, just on the inside of the darkness. Their route will be easy for the barbarians behind them to follow. "How do you know all those things you told Wulf?" Arvan asks Goretooth when they are on the move. Goretooth says that his orcs were won over by some powerful magician who inspired an uprising against him. This must have been Tular. Goretooth did not flee immediately, and tries time and again and destroy this enemy and take back what was his. He had a force of two thousand to begin with, of which only two-hundred survive. He saw minions of the usurper, orcs and men labouring to construct a strange device in the plains. One evening the device glowed into life and the life was sucked from the ground. That was when Goretooth knew it was time to leave.

Travelling with orcs is not pleasant. Fights between orcs break out all the time, and they continually make foul comments about the humans and dwarves they travel with. They seem to have a special hatred for half-men. Sanjay's life is made a misery, although he bears it with equanimity. Arvan they stay away from. They do not seem sure about him. Thus the Chosen, the Order and their companions drift into an uneasy sleep on this evening, packed tightly into a ragged plateau that may once have been green and verdant. Many take watch, to keep an eye on the orcs as much as the surroundings. Eventually they do find sleep, and when they sleep they dream.

Arvan dreams. He is walking slowly through the devastation. He is alone and seems to have been plodding on for ages through the dust and the decay. The land rises up in front of him and suddenly he can see the burned and blacked outline of a wooden wall. Approaching, Arvan sees that this is Kovar, or at least it was Kovar. The doors stand slightly ajar, and crumble to dust as he tries to push them open. Inside are simple skeletons of buildings, there is no fire burning outside the temple and no people.

The devastation has evidently overtaken this place. To Arvan this is no dream. It seems utterly real. Piles of decomposing bodies are piled up against the last surviving wall of a stone building. Arvan looks down, and sees one of them is his mother. Sendress is many weeks dead and partially eaten. She stirs.

The body of Sendress rises up awkwardly, like a puppet, and staggers towards Arvan. She stares at him with dead eyes and she mouths words she cannot speak, yet Arvan still hears them. "You failed, Arvan. You couldn't stop the darkness. No-one can stop the Dark Lord. He rules in Kerikal now. Men call him Karatath after the demon in the old tale. All the country is like this. The darkness moves south to Gunstadtan. The dwarves are fleeing. They can't run. He is waking in the south and there is nothing you can do to stop even the smallest part of it."

Sendress collapses into Arvan's arms and falls to pieces. Arvan backs away, wiping pieces of his mother from his clothing. Then he turns at the sound of footsteps. Gilvan Goldenmane walks through the broken doorway to the church of fire. He collapses on a step between two upended braziers. He is a broken and defeated man. He weeps. Arvan backs away. He can take no more of this. He runs from Kovar and looks around him, there is nothing but the devastation as far as he can see. The sky is dark and little light from the sun finds its way to the ground. He picks a direction and walks off into despair.

Brack dreams. He is back in Gunstadtan, in Dugmantle's Hold in Kulhâzan. The place is alive with dwarves running all around him. Panic grips Kulhâzan and Brack feels fear. "It is true! Screams a dwarf. Dunhâzan has fallen! High King Goldorro is dead!" There is a pounding in the distance, as though some giant fist was hammering the side of the mountain. "They're coming! They're coming!" Dust and rocks begin to fall from the ceiling of the ancient hall. They are trapped. Brack is trapped and he cannot get out.

He is shaken by rough hands. "Brack!" it is Abrinthor…. King Abrinthor and his warmasters Grimm and Bulmarr. "Help us seal the door! We have to keep them out!" Brack fights his fear and rushes to the huge stone doors, the last defence of Kulhâzan. Dwarves are still streaming through them, but Abrinthor and the others are closing the doors on their own people. There is screaming and cries of help as the stone doors shut, crushing a luckless child.

Then there is silence. Brack draws his axe and can feel the sweat trickling down his hand into the grip. Silence. Then it is broken by agonised screams from the other side of the doors. Screams and the sound of a massacre. Then silence again. Brack swallows and something strikes the stone doors. They shudder – all of Kulhâzan shudders. Something strikes again and a crack appears in the thick stone. The dwarves begin to back away. The doors shatter, flinging debris inward. A large rock takes Abrinthor in the head and ends the king's life.

Then they come. Shadows and demons. They scream and screech and fly into the Hold. Bulmarr, standing over the body of his fallen king, is cut in two. Grimm races past Brack. "It's all over Brack!" he screams. "We must flee!" Grimm runs into the darkness, but his screaming reveals he finds only death there. Brack hefts his axe and swings wildly at the creatures. He strikes one but cannot kill it. It turns to him. Brack screams in fear as a talon lashes out toward him.

Nicos dreams. He is riding as fast as he can on horseback along an Hadradan road. His is hurrying to Uris, but he knows that it is too late. Too late for anything. Cresting a hill Nicos sees the capital laid out before him, and it is burning with blue flames. Strange winged beasts, that look a little like flying rays, swoop over the town spewing fire on to the inhabitants. Nicos spurs the horse forwards and rushes toward the gates, desperately trying to fight his way through the fleeing crowds. His horse falls, he gets up and fights his way forward on foot.

From the crowds he can hear voices, crying out with pain and fear. "Where is Mínaris?" yells one. "He said he would protect us from this! Where is the king?" One man catches hold of Nicos's arm and spins him around. "You! You're one of Narramac's Chosen. You should be protecting us! We relied on you! Where were you?" Nicos shakes the man loose and blunders forward.

Huge beetle-like creatures are hunting through the city streets. Nicos dives behind some rubble to avoid one, then sprints out before he can be sure it has gone. He is blind to his goal. He must reach the Grand Conflagration. And then he is there, and stops in horror. The doors have been burst inward. The entire façade has been destroyed. Planted in the ground in front of the temple are a number of vicious looking spikes, each twice as tall as a man. The clergy of the Grand Conflagration are impaled on those spikes. Most are still, some are twitching.

Nicos catches sight of Julian Maynard, long dead with flies buzzing around his head. He cries in grief. Then he sees Rio. Impaled through the back, her hands hanging limply to her sides. He staggers toward her, and she opens her eyes a little. He takes her head. He knows that he cannot save her. Slowly she opens her mouth. "You said I'd be safe here, Nicos. You said you'd protect me." Before Nicos can reply her head lolls in his hand. She is dead.

Boudewijn Berdgardt appears in the courtyard and Nicos rises gaze to meet him. "You've done this!" says Boudewijn. "You and your friends were fools for angering the Dark One. You couldn't hope to beat him. You caused this. You did all this. You did this to her." Nicos screams with rage and leaps upon Boudewijn. The two struggle on the steps of the Grand Conflagration among the dead and the dying. They do not go unnoticed. One of the creatures circling the city descends upon them. Nicos stares up at the blue flame that falls to engulf Boudewijn and himself.

Ravenna dreams. She is in the mouth of a large cavern, a tropical day behind her. There are two cages swinging in the air above a large pit of dark water. Something is moving in the water. There is a scampering of feet from behind Ravenna and Derriac appears in the chamber. "Hurry, little one!" he says. "The forces of the Dark One are turning to Uris, they are stripping the land! We have to return to help!" Derriac's insistence does not seem that urgent, however. Ravenna cast a spell and rise up to the cages.

Ravenna closes her eyes in grief and disgust. She has found her parents, barely recognisable as they are. It is as though their bones had turned to water. They are simply bags of flesh. She turns to her mentor, but Derriac doesn't seem to care. "Yes they are dead! So is Jhasik and Thorangrim. So are your friends, Arvan and Elias and Brack. Even Narramac. All dead. if you don't want to die too then hurry, we must get to the ships!"

Ravenna is led unwillingly from the cave by Derriac. She wants to stay. She wants to find out what happened to her parents. Looking around Ravenna sees that she is on an island, a flotilla of ships in a deep lagoon are making sail and heading out to sea. Suddenly the sea begins to boil in front of her. The ships shudder and collide. Men fall into the water and their skin is scalded from their bones. A shout goes up. "It is the Cursed! Karatath sends his right hand against us!

There is something in the sky, something swarming towards the island. As they get closer Ravenna can see that they are horsemen riding through the air. Hundreds of horsemen. All hell breaks loose. People collapse and die around them, wounds opening along backs and chests. Among the bodies Ravenna can see Ralyon and Honour. Suddenly she is grabbed from behind. It is Derriac. There is no escaping the Great Lord of the Dark! he exclaims, and turns her bones to water.

Raza dreams. He is standing on top of Mount Korvast. It is dusk and there are six moons in the sky. None of them are full. He yells up at the Heavens. "Help us!" he cries. "You have power!" Suddenly in deep and resounding tones in side his mind are words only Raza can hear. "YOU DENIED US. YOU REJECTED US." Raza collapses to his knees and looks up at a noise from the path. It is Sanjay. He is missing an eye and stumbles up toward you. "Hurry Raza, they know where we are! Summon the gods!"

Other figures begin to follow Sanjay now. Monks of Raza's brotherhood and others. The frightened, the dying and the dispossessed. A beautiful woman is the last to appear. She is accompanied by a child of about seven seasons. Raza blinks. The woman is an elf. She is exquisitely beautiful and the child, the child is a half-elf. Raza can see a little of himself in it. The elven maiden calls out to Raza. "I have burned the bridges! It will not hold them for long. Hurry Raza! Hurry my love!"

Raza sits back and crosses his legs. Something is not right. Of all of the Chosen, Raza's conscious mind begins to enter his dream. "This is wrong," he says. "This is a dream." The elf screams. "Help us, Raza. Save us! Save you son." Raza shakes his head and closes his eyes. "I will not. I will not do it."

A darkness rises up the mountain. Raza shuts his eyes to it. He can hear the screaming. He hears the swish of claws the ends Sanjay's life, he winces that the sword stroke that brings his wife low and he sheds tears at the damp snap of his child pulled in two. When they advance for him he says. "This is not real. I am not really here. This is a dream." And then death takes him.

Elias dreams. He is running through the deserted high walled streets of a small market down. In front of you is the dwarf Br'varn Earthwarden, his old companion. "We have to hurry, Elias! If we are quick we can still get you of danger." He remembers now. He is back in Tibrai. He came home to free his people, but he met with disaster. The forces of Karatath to one side, the dragon to the other. Neither force will move against the other – but Raith Keep is in-between His people will be destroyed.

Suddenly a mob hoves into view before them. "There they are!" comes a cry. "Get them!" Elias and Br'varn turn, but the crowd is closing in behind them as well. Wild hands grab Br'varn and pull him down. He is cruelly beaten with sticks. His thick dwarven skull eventually fracturing with a sickening crack.

Hands grabs Elias and quickly overpower him. He is beaten and swept along by the crowd through town to the square. There a gibbet has been erected. Elias recognises his Uncle Lauren and other members of his family swaying gently in the breeze. But his eyes are quickly caught by something else. On the podium is Alessandre. Her hands are tied behind her back, and she is struggling vainly against two burly men whoa re lowering a noose over her head. "Stop this!" she cried to the crowd. "Elias is your lord, not the dragon! Elias can bring you through this!"

But the crowd shouts back. "The dragon can protect us from the Dark One! How can Elias do that?" Elias is desperately trying to free himself, but he cannot. He slams his eyes shut as Alessandre is pushed off the gibbet, but he hear the crack as her neck snaps and hears the cheering of the crowd.

Now it is his turn. He is wrestled up onto the podium, a noose tied around his neck. From the corner of his eye he can see Alessandre, dead at the end of a rope. "This isn't over!" he tells the crowd. "There is still my son!" But the crowd is having none of it. Elias looks up and he can see dragons in the sky circling. The men push him forward and there is only darkness.

Sharday, 33 Midsummer 204

Raza opens his eyes and leaps to his feet. All around the camp men and orcs are still sleeping, or groggily opening their eyes from sleep with looks of abject terror on their faces. Raza was evidently not the only one to suffer from terrible dreams in the night. He quickly rouses his companions. Brack is particularly surprised to be awake, as he can't remember going to sleep in the first place.

The Chosen are (by and large) traumatised by the dreams. Nicos is particularly upset. "That's it," he says, "I'm going home. I'm not staying here. You saw what's going to happen." Ravenna shakes her head. "From what everyone has said about their dreams it seems to me that we've seen what will happen if we don't press on. We saw things that might happen, not that will happen." Elias agrees with Ravenna. The only way they can prevent the dreams they saw becoming true is by pressing on. "What if it's by pressing on we cause it all?" Nicos asks. "We solve nothing trying to second guess this," says Elias, the image of a dead Alessandre weighing heavily on his mind. "It's all read our fault," says Arvan. "We allowed Tular to take the swords. We gave him the chance to open this doorway. We have to press on and close it."

Nicos is not happily and he is not the only one. Everyone in the camp suffered the same dreams. The Maker, Esker, surmises that it is something to with the demon himself. "A force trying to put us off," he says. A tactic that is working surprisingly well. Of the entire company, twenty cannot be roused this morning. The dreams were too much for them and they died in their sleep. Many of the orcs are preparing to dessert. Goretooth cannot stop them. They do not want to stay and risk attention from a demon that stalks their dreams.

Arvan steps forward to the orcs that are preparing to dessert. "You must not go," he says. "The dream you had, the things you saw…. I saw them too. The dreams are to scare you away. They are not showing you visions of what will happen if we continue, but what will happen if we fail. If we don't press on, if we don't stop Tular a great evil will fall across this land and everything you saw in those dreams will come to pass. You must stay. You must fight!"

Arvan's words are stirring stuff. He inspires the orcs to stay. They chant his name "Walker-in-Shadows! Walker-in-Shadows!" and it becomes soon apparent that the orc army is no longer Goretooth's force. It is Arvan's. An incredible change. A magical change. "You are still bonded to your sword," Esker says to Arvan. "You have given them hope." Goretooth is extremely unhappy. He looks at his son as a rival now and has little to saw as they continue the journey through the dead land. Arvan knows what his father is thinking, though. Arvan knows that once battle begins he will have to look out for a axe in his back.

"We are still bonded with the swords?" Raza asks Esker, "Then perhaps it is possible to summon it." Raza reaches out with his mind to the sword, but to no avail. He has a falling out with Esker and storms off. The dwarf returns to his crystal library. Nicos is playing his dream over and over in his mind. Rio, dead. The prospect does not bear thinking of. Elias tells the cleric that the visions were obviously of the future, of events that are yet to happen. There will be time once they get back to Norandor. "We're not going to get back to Norandor," says Nicos. "We're not going to live through this Elias. Do you want to die? We don't have the swords any more, we don't owe Narramac anything. Rio is out there somewhere, she needs my help. Alessandre is in trouble too. What's stopping us leaving?" What is stopping them leaving? Elias gives it a little thought. No, he decides that he must press on. It is his duty.

Arvan is an inspiration. He rallies the orcs, the druids and the rangers through a long dark day across treacherous terrain. When anyone thinks he cannot keep up the pace Arvan inspires them to greater things. In the late afternoon he takes Nicos to one side and talks with him. When they return, Nicos's demeanour has changed. He is fired with enthusiasm to press on and destroy Tular. No-one knows how Arvan did it.

As evening draws close, the company finds themselves in dire danger. With a squawk two leathery skinned creatures take to the air from a near-by rockface. They are garishly coloured wyrm-like creatures with bat wings and lizardine necks. "Darkenbeasts!" exclaims Goretooth. "They are the eyes of our enemy, they must be stopped!" Arrows and ranged spells soon bring both creatures crashing to the ground. When they die, they transform in deer. Goretooth says that fell magic has been used to transform these innocent wildlife into creatures of evil. They must press on.

It is a sombre and wary group that make camp in the evening. Sleep holds little attraction as fear of the dreams and no waking abound. Brack makes a point of not sleeping tonight. As long as he is bonded to the sword, he does not need it. Those who do sleep suffer the same dreams as the previous evening, only more horrid and real.

Morday, 34 Midsummer 204

Fifteen do not wake the following morning. However, now there is hope. Today, according to Goretooth, they should begin to head south across the plains to intercept Tular and his forces. Today is the day of battle, when the Plains are retaken and Tular's evil is put to rest. No-one is particularly enthused by this battle. For most of the day the group heads south and west. Then a small group breaks away from the rest of the party and crests a ridge looking into a deep valley. Goretooth, Wulf, Salvatore, Esker and the Chosen look down on a sight that gives them pause.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of orcs fill the valley. At the centre is a strange shape that Elias cannot quite make out. Esker hands him a dwarven spyglass that Elias holds to his eye. He sees a metal object made of a strange metal with red veins shot through it. It is the shape of an up-turned bulb of garlic. It seems to be rotating at high speed. Suspended within it are the swords given by Narramac. The thing is alive with electrical energy. "Interesting," says Esker, looking through the lens. "Obviously this is the thing that has been defiling the land. It has been drawing life energy and storing it. Now with the power of the six swords it can be used to open a doorway to the dimension of demons and flood the northern world with darkness. Fascinating." Everyone turns to look at the dwarf. "How do we stop it?" asks Arvan. Esker shrugs. "Remove the swords before it's too late."

Suddenly, there is a terrible screech as of claws being drawn across a blackboard. A fissure opens in the air above the device, a dark tear in the fabric of reality. The air is sucked down into it in the form of a swirling black maelstrom. It is only a few feet wide, but is beginning to grow. And quickly.

"Ah," says the dwarf. The group hurries back to gather the rest of the force. "It should be all right," says Esker. "As long as you seize the swords back before the opening fully forms it should close right up again!". Goretooth, Wulf, Salvatore, Parvan and the Chosen meet to decide to plan of attack. It is agreed that they cannot wait for the barbarians – they have to act now. The druids and orcs will charge the opposing force from one side, hoping to dent it enough to allow the Chosen to get to the device and retrieve their swords. The loss of life will be terrible, but it is the only way. "Raza," says Esker, "as they stand. I meant to tell you. I was looking through the crystal library and I think I've worked out what your sword does." Raza is impatient. "Tell me after the battle, we don't have time now."

The attention of the Tular's orc force is rapt in the swirling gateway and the lightshow from the spinning device. They do know they are being attacked until the first of them begin to die. Orc slams into orc, axes waving in the wind. "Accepted!" yells Salvatore, "Flame Strike, now!" and lowers his hands. The druids who can conjure huge columns of fire that shoot down from the heavens burning up their enemies. Then they do it again and again. The smell of burning orc flesh fills the air. And then they are in mêlée. Druids wildshape into wolves and bears and endeavour to overrun the horde.

At the front, the Chosen of Narramac run as one, desperately trying to avoid the battle around them. Esker, Sanjay and Blaine protect them as best they can from the onslaught. Esker, a powerful priest of Moradin, gestures and two waves of earth rise up before him hurtle to the orcs crushing them in a powerful vice of stone. Nicos throws fireballs, Ravenna hurls magic missiles, Arvan keeps an eye open for treachery from his father, but Goretooth has led a group of orcs into the very heart of the enemy resistance. They will not meet again until the end of the battle, if at all. An orc axe takes Nicos in the chest and he falls. Suddenly Brack is upon the assailant carving out with axe and sword. The orc falls back and he drags Nicos to his feet. "Why do I always get hit?" wails the cleric as death and destruction surround them.

War is chaos and it quickly becomes impossible to determine which orcs are friendly and which are foes. The orcs themselves have probably forgotten as the bloodlust overcomes them. As the Chosen run the maelstrom in the sky begins to get larger. Creatures begin to come through into Kerikal. Malformed demonic creatures, little bigger than hobbits but with twisted faces and evil claws pour through the rift. Darkenbeasts take to the sky. The ground begins to shake, and a worm hundreds of feet long slithers through and disappears into the ground. The orcs are all around them now. They are not going to make it to their swords unless….

A cry goes up. Along the far side of the valley five hundred angry Üganthé warriors appear, covered in warpaint and thumping heavy axes against the ground. The orcs see the threat too late. Led by their greatest leader the Üganthé sweep into the valley taking all before them. They charge bodily into the orcs lines, smashing and rending all they find. Then the orcs begin to push back. The forces are evenly matched.

Esker, Blaine, Sanjay and the Chosen break through the lines and reach the strange, spinning device. Blaine and Brack take care of the three orcs who remained to guard it and the Chosen step through. They are standing at the foot of the device. Above them the walls are rotating so fast they are blurred. The swords are suspended in the middle. They have to get them down. "Up you go, Elias," says Ravenna. "You're good at this." Elias tries to climb the inside, but is thrown off. Eventually it is left to Raza who scampers up and throws the six swords back to their rightful owners. The swords are disconnected from the device. The energy begins to fizzle. The spinning stops. They look at the maelstrom in the sky, expecting to see it shrink and wink out. Nothing happens to it.

"That's odd," says Esker. "Unless….. the power was merely siphoned off to somewhere else. That would mean there would be some force, some key holding open the nexus. It could be a weapon or an artefact or a person." A person. Arvan can guess who that might be.

"You should not have come here," says Archdruid Tular. He seems bigger somehow as he strides toward the party. They turn to face him, in an instant a wand is in his hand. He points wildly in the party's general direction and a thin green beam lances from the wand. It strikes Esker firmly in the chest. The dwarf screams as is body is contorted for a second and he dissolves into ash before them.

Brack screams in anger and launches himself at Tular. Tular reaches out and lays a hand on Brack channelling a powerful Harm spell into him. Wounds open all over Brack's body and he stumbles backwards. Tular touches him again and he falls down, unmoving and dying. Tular laughs. "Is that all your most powerful warrior could accomplish?" he sneers. Arvan ignores him and stoops to lay some healing magic on Brack. Elias, Raza, Sanjay and Blaine lay into Tular who is forced to give ground. Something is wrong, however. The druid is more powerful than before, as if he is supercharged by something. All the doubt and the recriminations that once gripped him have gone and been replaced with a malevolence that takes them all by surprise.

Then the darkenbeasts swoop in. And the demons. The Chosen are forced back under the force of their onslaught. Tular gestures and the ground around him is wrenched from the earth. It floats upward taking him away from the Chosen and their allies. As the island shoots up, Tular is obscured and Nicos and Ravenna cannot reach him with ranged weapons. Instinctively Elias and Raza race forward. They leap and grab hold of the dead roots swaying from the bottom of the floating island. Arvan watches as the pair are carried up and away from the battle that continues to rage all around them.

Elias and Raza scramble upwards and eventually get onto the island. Tular stands there, facing them. "My you are persistent," he says and gestures. A column of fire shoots down from the sky to the spot where Raza and Elias were standing. Elias throws himself out of the way, toppling from the island and falling tens of feet to the earth. He lands badly and Nicos rushes to help him. Raza dives the other way. He attacks Tular and lands some blows against the druid, before his foe backhands him contemptuously and flings him over the edge. Raza is dazed and badly hurt. He instinctively catches hold of the roots and dangles precipitously. He is a very long way up now and the island is getting higher and higher. He tries to climb up, but a darkenbeast swoops in against him. It rakes his back and he falls.

Raza falls twice the distance Elias did. He lands with a sickening thud and doesn't move. Arvan dispatches a demon that explodes in a cloud of acrid smoke and hurries over expecting to find Raza dead. Incredibly, the monk hangs onto life by the thinnest of threads. Arvan reaches down and casts a healing magic. Raza opens his eyes and groans. He looks up. Still something must be done with Tular. If Tular is the key, then only Tular's death will end this and close the rift. All around the battle is going badly for the allies. Tular's force is winning through sheer wait of numbers.

Suddenly a wash of these demons chitter forth and overwhelm the Chosen. Sanjay and Blaine back away from them and very soon the Chosen are standing in a tight circle defending themselves as best we can against the onslaught. Arvan in the centre of the circle with the wounded Raza and Elias desperately tries to use his magic to undo the damage the demons are doing to his companions, but it is a loosing proposition. They are going to be overrun. They cannot stop Tular. They are going to fail.

Suddenly a wall of force surrounds the Chosen, Blaine and Sanjay. The claws of the demons impact on the outside harmlessly. The wizard-lord Narramac appears in their midst. "I said I would not forsake you," he says. "I am only sorry that I have take so long to arrive." – "Narramac!" says Ravenna. "We have to get Tular. He's the key. Can you destroy the island he is on?" Narramac looks at the floating island. He nods and gestures. A wave of magic passes from the old wizard's hand to no effect whatsoever. "That's not a good sign," he says.

The Chosen try everything now. They touch the sword's blades together in the hope of closing the rift. Nothing happens. "We can't get up there!" Nicos bewails. "I can," says Arvan. It is as if the noise of the war around them is suddenly muted. "I can get there," Arvan repeats. "What good can I do when I arrive?" Narramac says nothing. Ravenna slips off her quickening ring and gives it to Arvan. Then she looks at Elias. "The pessilroot," they both say. The island Tular is on is now standing directly above the maelstrom. If he could be coaxed over it. "Would sending Tular through the rift close it?" Ravenna asks Narramac. Narramac shrugs. "Maybe."

Arvan nods. He casts create water in the quickening ring in case he needs a distraction and regards his friend. He is their only hope. Kerikal's only hope. If he doesn't act now, Kovar will be just like his dream in a matter of days. He looks to Narramac. "Open this shield," he says.

Arvan leaps into the sky, wildshaping into an eagle. Elias takes out the pessilroot and an arrow and begins to tie one to the other. He will use the true strike spell to make sure that he doesn't miss. Arvan soars high above their heads. He flies above the spinning rift and up to look down upon the floating island.

Tular surveys the terrain oblivious to Arvan. Arvan swoops down behind Tular, transforming back into a half-orc and barrels into the archdruid from behind, knocking him flat. Arvan is on his feet first. Tular climbs slowly to look at him. "Is this a challenge Arvan?" Arvan does not reply. Tular absented himself from the Order by his deeds, he is no longer bound or protected by its stricture as far as Arvan is concerned. "Tooth and claw, then," Tular laughs. Arvan can see something now that he couldn't see before. Silhouetting Tular is the same shape that Brack saw three days ago. A demonic shadow that follows Tular where-ever he goes.

Tular lurches forward wildshaping into a dire bear. Arvan jumps up, changing into an eagle and flapping away. The bear rises up its hind-legs and snaps at the eagle's legs only just missing. "Come on!" thinks Arvan, "Follow me!"

On the ground below Elias has an arrow nocked and is waiting for a shot at Tular he knows he will only get one. The light is being cut off as demons swarm over Narramac's force wall. Elias waits.

The dire bear roars in rage and changes into a fantastic vulture, each wing the length of a man. It heaves itself into the sky and lurches after Arvan. Arvan the eagle turns away, luring Tular out over the rift. Below is the swirling black maelstrom that leads to whatever hellish dimension these creatures. As it lurches forward Elias has his shot. He casts true strike and fires. The arrow bounces off the inside of the shield and nearly skewers Nicos. He takes a second arrow and prepares to try again.

The eagle dodges a razor-sharp talon that would have sliced it in two, escaped with a single rake down its back. Arvan can feel the pain. He can see the his companions far below. They have a clear shot, why haven't they fired. Tular, as if aware of his danger begins to flutter back to the island. Arvan dive-bombs him, ranking the vulture's eyes. Tular turns in the air stabs with his beak at Arvan. There is a twang of a bow string.

Elias sends the arrow bearing the pessilroot through a hole in the force wall and up towards the vulture. The magically-guided missile strikes true. It thuds into Tular's back and the pouch containing the pessilroot splits. A shower of fine dust engulfs he archdruid. The vulture lurches and turns back into a man. Tular screams as he begins to fall. The Chosen cheer, but their mirth is cut down instantly.

The cloud of pessilroot did not only engulf Tular. The eagle stutters in flight as if stalled. Then the wings turn into arms, the talons into feet and the feathers into skin and hair. Arvan is thrown from his wildshape. For a second he seems to hang motionless in the air and then he falls. Tular reaches as if to cast a spell, but Arvan falls upon him grabbing the struggling archdruid. Arvan can see fear in Tular's eyes and he knows that he has won. He has won.

Arvan and Tular fall down until they are barely visible specks in the rip of the nexus and then they are gone. Suddenly there is an explosion like a thousand storms. A terrible wind picks up sucking all the darkness, all the evil and much of everything else back through the rift. Following Arvan. Narramac's force dome shudders, but it holds protecting the Chosen and their companions. Orcs and barbarians, demons and darkenbeasts fly past as they sucked into Hell. The barbarian chieftain Yurtus his hands flailing for something to hold on to disappears into the darkness. The wind even strips the grime and the dust from the ground until only bare rock is left.

Then, suddenly and finally the rift snaps shut. For a moment the group are overwhelmed by the utter silence of the scene. Then the ground shakes again and a great pinnacle of rock thrusts its way up from the canyon floor. As they watch, amazed, green shoots begin to form upon it. The shoots turn to stems, the stems into plants. In the centre of this blasted land is one last bastion of nature. And it stands where Arvan fell.

"Good shot," says Ravenna to Elias, laying her hand on his shoulder. He turns to look at her. "I mean it," she adds.

Without any further words spoken Elias, Nicos, Raza, Ravenna and Brack walk toward the pinnacle of rock. Narramac joins them, as does Blaine and Sanjay. They clamber up the verdant slops to grassy summit filled with bushes and wild-flowers. All around them is the devastation of the Plains of Acheron. The surviving orcs, barbarians and druids stand around the pinnacle dumbfounded. There no longer seems any reason to fight. At the centre of the clearing, sticking defiantly out of the ground is Arvan's sword. Narramac reaches out and touches it. The blade shoots back into the hilt. "What a way to go," comes a voice from behind them. Goretooth smiles grimly, "I'll miss him," he lies. Elias's mouth feels dry. He killed Arvan. After all their adventures and lucky escapes, one of them has fallen. They have stopped the darkness, but at a terrible price.

The end of The Deeper Shadow, The Darkest Night
The adventures of the Chosen of Narramac continue in
The End of Days

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