The Seventh Sword
Session Forty-Five of the Notoriety of Kings Campaign

Zephday, 31 Gathering 204 [continued]

After the revelations come the questions, and Raza has about seventy of them concerning his blade. Klazid answers as many of them as he can, but Ravenna has a question that no-one was expecting. “Do you know someone who can teleport without error, or just teleport?” she asks Klazid. Ravenna wants to use the power of her blade to restore King Yaddagon to youth.

“You’ll be killed!” Elias exclaims. Ravenna accepts that this is probably true, but she wants to do good with her sword. The whole mission to The Great Dark to retrieve the seventh sword is all up in the air. “I see an opportunity to make a difference,” she says. “With the king restored to youth, he would have another chance to make an heir, and the throne would never fall into the hands of Galahyde and Mínaris.”

Klazid is aghast. He admire Ravenna’s compassion, but she is misguided. He will not help her return to Norandor for such a mission. In fact he will do anything to prevent such a thing. “Galahyde is just biding his time,” says Elias, “he doesn’t want a war if he can avoid one. Returning the king’s youth will just make him start a war, he still has an army.” Arvan agrees. If Mínaris really has designs on Norandor through Galahyde does anyone really think he will abandon them out of respect for the Norandon succession? Ravenna’s sacrifice would be a pointless gesture. Plus, the Watchers have a dim view of magically extending one’s life – the king could fall out of favour with the churches. Nicos tells everyone what he thinks the Watchers should do to themselves.

Raza has a more immediate problem with Ravenna’s plan. “What about the quest? We all have to go! We need all six swords.” Ravenna shakes her head. “You can always choose someone else for my sword afterward.” Now Klazid wades into the argument, shaking his head wildly. “That may not be possible. If Glyphmir altered the swords, as we suspect, to accept you as wielders there is no telling if it is even possible to give them to another.” Nicos points out that Arvan’s sword wouldn’t work for Ellyboodle. “And we don’t have the time to find out!” says Klazid. “The wards on Karatath’s prison are weakening. We may not even have months.”

Ravenna flounders slightly. The decision had been quickly made, now her friends are making her think again. Klazid regards her kindly. “The faithful believe that everything happens for a reason; that God guides our hand. The story of your life was written long ago. Sometimes we see that story in dreams or visions; sometimes our path is made for us by events. You were chosen by Glyphmir, you claimed the Blades of Virtue, you have set yourselves up as Champions of Justice, you know what will happen if the Darkness comes again. Did you think all of that was coincidence? It is Fate. This is your destiny. You must do this. If you do not, then no-one will rise to take your place. You must do this, Ravenna.”

The sorceress nods slowly. It still feels as though she has condemned the king to death. Now, by the time they return to Norandor, Yaddagon will almost certainly have passed and Galahyde will be king with Mínaris at his side. Unless Narramac can step in and stop things. Nicos shakes his head. He reckons that Narramac is a goner. He doesn’t expect the see the old wizard alive again.

Klazid says that he will find a boat that will sail to Belsinor’s Girdle and carry the party. They agree that they have no further reason to stay in Hadras. Klazid agrees to equip the party with as much equipment as he can spare, and promises to furnish them with healing potions and vials of holy water.

“You know,” says Nicos to Ravenna. “I’ve been thinking. We’re both quite tall, right, and we’re both orphans. And we say the same things some times, and I’m a fire cleric and you’re been told you’d make a good fire cleric…..” Ravenna stares at him disbelievingly. “No,” she says. “There is no way we are related!” Nicos grins, and holds up his sword. “I don’t know, sis. I’ve got faith in it!” Ravenna shakes her head and stamps toward the door.

The Chosen leave Klazid’s study ababble with theories and excitement. They now know what their swords do, and they know where the seventh sword is. Arvan is silent. The thought of returning to the Great Dark does not thrill him in the slightest. “Alessandre, try and scry for us,” Nicos asks, handing Alessandre his mirror. They stop in the middle of the courtyard at the bottom of the steps from Klazid’s tower and the bard looks into the mirror. The theory is that she will not be able to find them because of the swords. “Show me Nicos,” she asks the mirror.

A burst of red light comes from the mirror. “I can see you,” Alessandre says, “Wait, you’re…..” And then she vanishes. The party are stunned for a moment and then Elias feels a burst of awareness strike his mind, similar to the feeling he got in the Úngorn shortly before Vaprissar appeared. It is the power of Foresight from his sword. “Take cover!” he yells.

The rest of the Chosen need no further invitation to protect themselves. Brack, Raza, Nicos, Ravenna and Arvan begin to race across to the courtyard to the loggia that surrounds its perimeter. As they do so there is a distant twang and something whistles past Elias’s heading directly for Raza. An arrow. The monk turns lashing out to try and deflect the missile, but it is almost as though it has a mind of its own, swerving around his outstretched palm. The arrow takes Raza firmly in the chest and knocks him back ten feet, under the loggia and into the far wall. He groans as he slides to the ground, feebly trying to drag the arrow from him. Raza can feel potent magic at work in him. The arrow is draining his life, trying to snuff it out.

Four more arrows streak from out of nowhere. Three of them pierce Raza are various points practically stapling him to the wall. Bravely the monk wrenches his death arrow from his chest and throws it to the tiles. It boils away before his eyes until nothing is left. Everyone except Elias heads for cover casting protective magicks upon themselves. Brack and Shredder hide behind a column to the right of Raza, Ravenna and Nicos to his left. Arvan tries to reach Raza before another hail of arrows streak into the scene. Elias commands Hedwig to fly to safety. Ravenna demands the same of Snowy.

Then the enemy comes. Clad in seamless black plate armour five warriors of the Brotherhood of the Black Rose close on the party. Two from the right and three from the left. As Arvan casts barkskin on Raza, Brack and Shredder move in to engage one of the attackers. The three running in from the left ignore Ravenna, moving forward towards Raza. She lets them pass, drawing her sword and contemplating a shield spell. This manoeuvre does not thrill Nicos who finds himself faced with three opponents.

Brack lashes out striking his opponent in the chest. The black armour is magical and almost deflects his sweep. Shredder lays into the same foe, as the other pelts past and runs straight into Arvan. Raza stumbles to his feet trying to get into cover as one of the knight barges past Nicos and swings at the monk. The sword connects, burning Raza’s skin as it cuts. It is as though the swords have been specifically enchanted to harm him.

In the middle of the courtyard Elias, under the influence of the power of Foresight focuses on the origin of the arrows. Were it not for the sword he could not possibly have noticed the archer standing on the balcony of a bell tower, more than a thousand feet away. A thousand feet? That’s extreme range for a longbow. Elias steps back from the scene of carnage and Raza’s imminent assassination and appreciates the skill and artistry that must also come with such skill with the bow. He feels like applauding.

Suddenly another arrow hurtles into the fray. Raza backs up against one of the columns. He is completely covered by two feet of solid stone, he should be safe. The arrow streaks past him, and then miraculously turns almost one hundred and eighty degrees in mid-air and thumps into his chest. When it strikes it discharges a ball of electricity that does Raza no good at all. He staggers. The blast is enough to knock him unconscious, to leave him dying on the ground. But he holds the Blade of Temperance and that is not an option. He keeps going by sheer force of will, and contemplates the benefits of pretending to be dead.

Elias, quickly loses all aesthetic appreciation for the archer as two shafts strike him. One takes him a whisker from the heart and he collapses to the ground. He is not well. Cover would seem a good option, and by the way Nicos is screaming for help he knows where he is most needed. One of the knights attacks Raza again. The monk leaps up and tumbles toward Arvan. The sword misses him by a whisker. Had it connected he would almost certainly had died. Brack foregoes a swipe at his foe to activate the healing properties of the Blade of Fortitude. Raza is immediately restored to full health.

Nicos continues to battle valiantly. The Sword of Faith is drawn, the shield of faith is activated, but he is still taking a terrible pounding. Ravenna is still casting protective magicks on herself as Elias wades in to help his friend. Then the archer strikes again. Eight arrows streak into courtyard. One strikes Ravenna, Snowy, Raza, Elias, Nicos, Arvan and Shredder. Only Brack manages to avoid being shot. This is the last straw for the fire cleric and Nicos collapses to the ground, barely conscious. One day, he will endure a combat without being knocked down, but today is evidently not that day. He curses the fact that the archer is out of range of all his magic and thinks on his next move. He decides upon lying there and groaning a little.

Ravenna scowls. It would be really lucky for them if something unfortunate were to happen to that archer. The Blade of Charity pulses. From a thousand feet away comes the peeling of a bell. It seems to be coming from the same bell tower occupied by the archer. Well, that is lucky.

With Nicos down a knight, who turns out to be the leader, barges past to engage Raza. Elias finds himself standing over Nicos in battle with two knights. Arvan leaps forward and intercepts the leader with his strange curved blade, while Raza turns his attention on the foe Arvan was originally fighting. Finally, our heroes make progress as a mighty slice from Brack cuts a black knight in two. Shredder quickly finishes him off. One down.

“Surrender the godspeaker!” the leader shouts to Arvan. However, he doesn’t wait for a reply before stabbing the druid in a mean manner. Ravenna runs forward and plunges her dagger into the back of one of the knights battling Elias. He turns to face her. Nicos casts a healing spell on himself and he shudders to full consciousness, slowly crawling to safety. Another strike from the leader cuts down Arvan. The druid is an inch away from death. He looks triumphant until Brack uses his blade once more and Arvan leaps to his feet with not a mark on him. Useful things these Blades of Virtue.

Now the tide is slowly turning. Elias takes down one of his foes, although he is grievously wounded. He and Ravenna now stand together against the next. Brack moves in against the foe engaging Raza. With the monk, the dwarf and the mad dog, the knight doesn’t really stand a chance and he is cut down. Nicos manages to crawl in a position where he is surrounded by his allies. A definite improvement in his fortunes. He stands and begins to blaze away with flame arrows. The scenery seems to take more damage than black knights. Nothing has been heard from the archer.

The knight on Ravenna and Elias whirls around wildly, striking Elias in the head and he sways worryingly on his feet. Ravenna attacks and is fought off. Suddenly Shredder leaps into the fray, tearing the man apart. Now it is Elias, Ravenna, Arvan, Raza and Brack against the leader. He takes a pounding but continues to fight. His sword stinging and burning Raza’s flesh. He doesn’t seem to care about his own life, the only thing that is important is killing Raza. He will not listen to reason, he will not heed Raza’s appeal to “talk about it”. He lashes out in a whirlwind of steel wounding all of the Chosen, but still they do not fall.

There is a whistle of air. The archer is awake again. An arrow hurtles into the fray, becoming insubstantial as it does so. The wispy ghost of an arrow passes harmlessly through Brack and Arvan before materialising in Raza’s flesh. Another wound to add to his growing collection, but not enough to bring him down. A final blow is struck against the leader and he hits the wall and slides down it leaving a smear of blood. Silence. The Chosen glance at one another. Have they won?

With no warning the bodies of the elves, their weapons and even the arrows sticking out of Elias and the others disappear. Were it not for the blood on the ground and the crater made in the wall by Nicos’s fire arrow, there would be no evidence they were ever there. “….Wait, no you’re back,” says Alessandre. She is standing in the centre of the courtyard where she was a moment ago, still holding the mirror, still speaking the same sentence. She suddenly looks up at the battered and bloody party. “What the hell happened to you?”

They begin to explain. “Namby-pamby elves!” exclaims Nicos. “Poncy, flower-picking bastards!” Elias looks around for the sniper, but he cannot see anything. Alessandre runs over to him and lays a concerned hand on his shoulder. She shakes her head, and sighs. Then she kisses him on the cheek while uttering a single, soft note. Elias feels magic partially knit his wounds. “I’m wounded too,” says Nicos hopefully.

Ravenna concludes that it must have been some sort of time stop spell. They and the elves were taken briefly outside of time by magic. Then they must have been thrown back into reality while the Black Rose remained outside time. That is how they managed to gather up their fallen comrades and escape. “Cheats!” yells Nicos. “Couldn’t even face us properly without pulling some trick!”

“I’m really, really sorry,” says Raza, and this time he truly means it. The moment is broken by a wandering servant, who seeing the blood, the mess and the large hole in the wall, enquires if he can be of any assistance. Soon Klazid has arrived, uttering apology after apology and offering healing for their wounds. The party are taken to their quarters to rest.

Nicos stays up late into the night writing a letter to Rio. It is a short note, in which he tries to sound as cheerful as possible. Nicos will give it to Klazid to pass on to someone going to Norandor. Hopefully it will get there. At the last minute he decides not to mention the current ‘arrangements’ between Elias and Alessandre. The letter reads:

Caladay, 32 Gathering 204

Early the following morning, the party, Mortimer, Nosuch and Bron find themselves back at the docks. Before them is a vessel almost twice as large again as The Enlightenment. The words on the bowsprit mark it as The Perspicacity and it is filled with as uncouth collection of Hadradans as they have ever seen. Hadala Klazid is on the deck of the vessel having a very animated discussion with the captain. The captain evidently does not want to take the commission Klazid is offering, but Hadala keeps handing the man more and more gold until he finally nods his head. Klazid smiles, and returns down the gangway to the party.

“Captain Peleus will take you south to the area of Belsinor’s Girdle where Nareem dwells. Once there give him this letter of introduction from me. He knew my father and myself. This letter will incline him to believe your story, even if the swords do not. He will help you head further to the south. The vessel will not land on the Girdle. The captain and his crew are very superstitious about such things. I have paid for a boat. They will put you over the side and you will have to row ashore. I apologise for this, but it is the only way.”

This is not surprising. The area south of the Girdle is supposed to be Hell after all. Who would want to go there willingly? Bron steps forward and returns the flower that Ishara gave him months ago. “It is powerful magic,” says Bron. “Keep it on you at all times. If you are killed it will restore you to life as a raise dead spell. It will function only once and it will not work after the event. You must have it on you when the killing blow is struck.” Raza takes it gingerly. He wasn’t carrying it yesterday during the fight with the Brotherhood of the Black Rose. He shivers.

Klazid gives Raza nine hundred sestiri – the money that he thinks the remains of the sea serpent are worth to local the local wizard’s guild. Raza distributes the cash among the party. Now it is time to depart. Alessandre and Ravenna hug Klazid. He is thanked for all his help – far beyond anything they could have expected.

But Klazid has not come to the docks alone. Mortimer and Nosuch are also there. Mortimer, who seems to have discovered far too many things in the past few days is a picture of worry. “Won’t you stay here with us, Alessandre?” he asks the bard taking her hands. Alessandre smiles in her way and, giving Elias a wink, leads Mortimer to one side. They talk for a few minutes, at the end of which the pair hug – Mortimer a little too keenly, Elias thinks. Alessandre kisses the wizard lightly on the cheek and then rejoins the rest of the party. “I’m ready,” she says.

Nosuch and Mortimer will remain in Hadras and get the first available ship back to Norandor. That is not likely to be for some time, but they might yet beat the Chosen back to Uris. They have an even longer journey ahead of them, into the southern world.

The group says a fond farewell to Hadala Klazid. He wishes them well and wishes that he could have been more help. The party climb aboard The Perspicacity and are greeted with the most hostile looking bunch of people they have seen in many a long time. “How long were we actually on dry land?” Nicos complains as the ship throws off its moorings and begins to sail out into the bay. “Three days,” says Arvan. “Three days!” the fire cleric exclaims. “Seven weeks to get here and then three days! I hate my life.”

As they climb on to the deck, Captain Peleus comes over and takes them to one side. “I do not want to undertake this journey,” he says candidly. “Even if we miss the hurricanes, we are travelling to a dark place. The Girdle should not be disturbed. The evil there should not be disturbed.” He shrugs. “But my crew and I need the money and the Malik pays well. But, still. Watch yourselves. Best to keep to your cabin.”

The seven station themselves in their cabins as ship pulls away. Nicos takes the opportunity to scry for Rio. She is on horseback and galloping north along an Hadradan Road. Nicos smiles at her wistfully. Before the fire cleric can descend into his usual routine of scrying every one he has even vaguely met, conversation turns to their mission and what they are actually going to when they reach the Great Dark.

“What happens if Alessandre can’t wield the seventh sword?” asks Ravenna. Alessandre shakes her head. “Were we assuming that I could? This is the Blade of Justice, do I look like an upholder of the law?” Nicos thinks that Alessandre will be able to wield the seventh sword. He has a theory that each member of the Chosen was worthy, because they were each at the best at what they do. Ravenna, for example, was the best at castrating rapists. Alessandre is definitely the finest bard he has ever seen. “Thank you Nicos,” Alessandre says, giving him a peck on the cheek, “but there are bards better than me.”

“We won’t know until we are there,” says Elias sagely. “And it doesn’t matter,” says Raza. “We can’t use the seventh sword against the Prince anyway, and once we have the seventh sword we won’t be staying in the Great Dark long enough to use it. Right?” Everyone agrees particularly Arvan.

The druid goes over with them again the nature of the Prince. He tells them how only through force of arms can he be overcome. The party will have to face him with the Blades of Virtue that they have. Only enchanted weapons will be able to harm him. “Magic will be no use, “Arvan says, “unless it is cast to enhance our fighting ability, and even then we must be careful.”

“The Weave in the Great Dark is corrupt. To manipulate it is sickening. Over ten seasons I became used to it, but druids and clerics get off lightly because they using an external force to manipulate the Weave. I use life energy, Nicos uses the power of Calafax. Arcanists – wizards and sorcerers – are much worse off. You must understand this, Ravenna. When you cast a spell you draw energy from the Weave, you drink it into yourself and use it to reshape reality. Casting a spell in the Great Dark means you are absorbing the corruption of the Weave. Where spellcasting sickens me, it will change you. It could drive you mad, it could result in physical changes. It will corrupt your soul. I’ve seen it happen.”

“I won’t cast magic unless as a last resort, Arvan, you have my word,” says the sorceress. “We have the Quickening ring and maybe these knights can help us with potions or scrolls. We’ll have enough.” There is a strange sense of focus showing in the party. But they still have a long way to go.

Caladay, 39 Gathering 204

The party have followed Captain Peleus’s advice and stayed in their cabins for the past week, but only because they have had little choice. The weather has been extremely rough – short of a hurricane, but too stormy to venture on to deck. Brack has once again walled himself up in a cubby-hole and is pretending that he is not on board a ship and not on the verge of a nervous break-down. The blink dog, Caius, is caring for Shredder in Brack’s absence.

Ravenna has not been wasting her time. Long has she been without any offensive magic, and over the last few days she has perfected the casting of a ‘lightning bolt’ spell. Arvan is anxious that she might consider using it against the Prince, but she assures the druid that his fears are groundless. Arvan takes the opportunity to drill more information about the Prince into party.

That night, Arvan sleeps fitfully. The further south they go, the nearer they get to the Great Dark and the closer to the Hell he has lived for the last ten seasons. He is quick to wake at the sound of Caius leaping to his feet, and sitting bolt upright in bed as a soft, elven voice says, “Awake druid. There is much I need to say and I have very little time. Gather your companions. Quickly, I cannot be found here.”

Arvan takes less than a moment to take in the elf in the doorway to his cabin. He has never seen her before. Although as ageless as all members of her race, there is something in her eyes that speak of a vast age, much more so than Rhiana. She is sitting on the edge of his bed. Arvan has to struggle to tear himself away from those eyes. They seem so weary, so full of sorrow.

Very soon, the rest of the Chosen (as well as Alessandre) are crowded into Arvan’s tiny cabin. Raza is amazed to see another elf, but she is not here to speak of his danger or the Brotherhood of the Black Rose. “My name is Etchen. I am one of the three elves who appeared to your King Yaddagon last Spring. I know of your discussion with Hadala Klazid, and I know of your quest and your current destination. It is exceptionally unlikely that the Elyastic Knights will be able to furnish you with a means to escape Thanassanoir. It is beyond their skills. The transcendent power of the Blade of Faith is limited to travel on the same reality – it will avail you naught. Which one is your spellweaver?”

Ravenna steps forward. At last there appears to be some hope! Etchen reaches into a pouch on her belt and removes a small leaf that she places in the palm of her hand and offers to Ravenna. There is a cold smile about her lips. Arvan recognises it as a clover, but is amazed to see that it has seven leaves.

“Take it,” says Etchen. “This is part of a ritual that will allow you to breach the walls between dimensions and flee Thanassanoir. Use it only as a last resort. If the knights can give the means, so much to the good, for the path I offer is not without peril for us all. At the proper place, you will be able to use this to open a doorway into the Greymere.”

There is a great intake of breath from every member of the party. Etchen waves them quiet before they can speak, time is evidently pressing for her. “I have very little time, and there is still much for me to tell you. Listen carefully. To open the doorway you must first locate a portal stone. Thousands of such stones were buried across Thanassanoir before the Sealing. This ring will help you locate a stone. The metal grows warm in the presence of a stone, growing warmer the nearer you approach. Once you reach the cairn, uncover the portal stone. It will look like any other stone, but when you touch it the gem on the ring will glow red. Once you have the stone separate from the cairn and douse it with water. Then take the clover. Carefully remove the leaves – each of you must have one. Then take the stem and crush it between your palms, smearing the residue on the stone. Then begins the ritual. Any one with a penchant for magic can say the words, which is any of you except the godspeaker. I suggest the six of you learn them.”

Etchen also gives the ring to Ravenna. She will not answer any pointless questions such as why the portal stones are there in the first place. The ritual, she continues, consists of utterly words of power in Elvish. The words an Ellamon Esthenai Uldarsé Halmiris Shallambor. “Repeat them with me!” she commands. Every member of the party repeats the words Ellamon Esthenai Uldarsé Halmiris Shallambor She is not happy until they can all say the words by rote.

“Saying them once may not be enough. The chant should be repeated until the doorway opens. The longer you chant the larger the hole. Once you stop chanting the portal will begin to close, but there should be sufficient time for you all to step through. Before entering the portal take your leaf and place it under your tongue. If you do not do this the portal will be like a solid wall to you. Is all that clear?”

Despite the party’s attempts to the contrary Etchen will not be drawn on other matters. She will say nothing of Narramac, nor her connection with Andel. Moments after she has imparted what she came to say she has opened a portal to the Greymere and she is gone. The party now have a means to escape the Great Dark, but they still cannot help feeling that they are being manipulated at every turn.

Vítday, 1 Late Harvest 204

The party begin their last week on The Perspicacity preparing themselves for the rigours ahead. Arvan continues to coach them in the nature of the Great Dark, but Nicos spends more time growing his new dreadlocks than he does listening to Arvan. Something becomes very apparent to Ravenna as time passes. They have a seven leaf clover from Etchen. Seven leaves for seven of them. Snowy and Hedwig are very much part of herself and Elias, but there is no way that either Shredder or Caius are going to be able to pass into the Greymere. If they accompany the party into the Great Dark, they are not coming out again.

Terday, 9 Late Harvest 204

One hour after dawn, a call goes up from the crow’s nest. Land has been sighted. The Chosen emerge onto to deck and a faced with a crowd of superstitious Hadradan faces, performing complicated hand gestures to ward off evil spirits. To them, the strip of land to the south – Belsinor’s Girdle – marks the division between the land of the living and Hell. They do not want to get any closer. Captain Peleus (who is the only person who will speak to the party) ushers them into a long boat and lowers them into the calm ocean.

It is a beautifully clear day, the hot sun beats down through a cloudless sky, but the party realise as they take up the oars and start rowing the two miles to shore, that there is now no going back. Before they have gone half the distance The Perspicacity has turned around and is heading back to Hadras. However, despite the danger they are looking forward to setting foot on dry land again.

The Girdle looks like paradise. A white sandy beach stretches as far as they can see to the east and to the west. Beyond the beach is a lush, tropical forest that is alive with strange plants and multi-coloured birds. They drag the boat up the beach and jump out. Shredder, delighted to be on land again, charges off down the beach. Raza says he wants some exercise to, so Brack commands Shredder to chase the monk.

While Raza is run to within an inch of his life, Elias concentrates on his sword. He has been thinking of the two-handed sword of Baron Leston for some time. If the Blades of Virtue really take on the shape of the wielder’s favoured weapon then…. with a screech of metal his longsword disappears to be replaced by a two-handed sword. Elias tests the weight. Fantastic.

Nicos, takes out his scrying mirror. On a whim he says, “Show me Minsc!” and is utterly amazed to see that the mirror reveals that Minsc is not dead, but alive and well and on a boat. In the vision of the mirror, Minsc can be seen with Lady Patricia (the paladin he duelled with back on 5 Brightday. The party gathers round, but beyond Alessandre declaring that Minsc is rather handsome, no-one has any rational theories as to how Minsc can be where he is. According to Arvan, the ship Minsc is on, is heading south.

Soon they head off into the jungle. The Saldarím that Klazid spoke of are on the girdle somewhere. If they truly are its defenders then they are bound to spot the party before long. The Blades of Virtue make short work of the foliage as they cut their way through. Of course, the vegetation simply parts for Arvan. The jungle is full of strange creatures. Arvan steers them past gigantic centipedes and brightly coloured spiders the size of Man’s face. Alessandre points out to Elias a crocata snail under a dead branch. Elias chastises her, but Alessandre seems hurt, and says that she doesn’t do that sort of thing any more. When Nicos finds out what that “sort of thing” is, he wants to take a snail away with him, but he is eventually talked out of it.

They have not been travelling for more than about a hour before they hear an ear-splitting roar through the canopy. Whatever made that sound was extremely large and (according to Arvan) not of the natural order of things. The part’s jovial mood soon evaporates. There is something large and extremely nasty in this place, and it could very well be hunting them. Hours pass, and they hear the roar on two other occasions. Even Shredder seems a little worried.

Eventually they come upon a clearing in the forest. In the middle of the clearing is the body of a man in highly-stylised silver armour. The armour is ruined. The body has an enormous slash mark across it, caused by a creature with talons the size of a sword. Something, a horn or tusk, has impaled him through the middle. It is possible to stick an arm through the hole that is there, and Nicos proves it. A sword is lying not too far away. An odd looking weapon – like a scimitar, but larger. The armour is faintly magical, the sword is strongly magical. Arvan begins to pace the clearing. What ever did this was enormous. From the pattern of the heavily-clawed footprints they are looking at something that normally walks on four legs. From the stride Arvan would guess that it is about twenty feet high at the shoulder. However, when it attacks it rises onto its hind legs like a bear. The party all look up to get an impression at exactly how big it must be. Too big is the answer.

As they continue to search, they are aware of two men walking across the clearing toward them. They have their weapons drawn and are dressed in a similar manner to the deceased individual. “This land is forbidden to outsiders,” says the first man. “What is your business here?” His accent is Hadradan, but the dialect is slightly different. Not too different for the party to understand him, however.

Elias explains their meeting with Hadala Klazid, tells the man that they carry the Blades of Virtue and explains a little of their quest. The man is impressed. He names himself Heru, and his companion is Gassan. The fallen man was called Kayat. They were originally part of a group of seven members of the Saldarím patrolling the jungles when they came across a beast of the southern world. It is still loose. “I do not believe or disbelieve you,” Heru continues. “But news of the monster must be brought to Lord Marshall Nareem at his Tower.”

Ravenna is happy. Nareem is the man they have to talk to. Heru nods. “It is a fourteen mile journey to the Great Wall to summon reinforcements. We will not get there before dark,” he glances to Gassan. “This beast hunts you through your dreams as well as in the waking world,” Gassan says simply. “We must hurry and we must not sleep.”

Heru determines to bury Kayat where he is before they leave. Once the beast is destroyed they can return and reclaim the body for a proper burial. Although Elias has dozens of burning questions regarding the Saldarím he puts them to one side as helps to cover Kayat with leaves and heavy branches. As they do so, there is another roar. “The creature cannot be far away,” says Heru. “We must hurry.”

And thus the Chosen of Narramac, Alessandre and the two paladins begin their race back to safety. Heru leads the group along the bed of a small stream that cuts through the jungle. Here the going is quicker, but the party cannot help but think that every step is taking them nearer their doom, not farther from it.

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