A World Asunder

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1. Invite your players

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2. Edit your home page

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A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.


The Scourge began over 700 years ago. No one is certain exactly how, but an old Dwarven legend tells of a Faskian necromancer who made a pact with Necmasth to Will-bind the Tarrasque. At the time, Fask was at war with a formidable Orcish rebellion. The necromancer wanted the Tarrasque to lay waste to the Orcs’ territory and extinguish the life of every Orc in Irythan. Necmasth granted this wish, but at a price to be paid by the entire world. The necromancer’s soul was bound to the Tarrasque forever and the Orcs were returned as the first of the Arkali. Necmasth finally had an army to swallow the world.

By the time the rest of the world realized what had happened, the Tarrasque had destroyed the Great Keep of Lyranos and Orcish Arkali were swarming into Termalyn and Fask . An uneasy Alliance was formed between Weslyth, Fask, Kaptal, Termalyn and Heptus to combat the new threat, which was then named “The Scourge”. It was less of a war and more of a desperate last stand for humanity. The combined forces of humanity outnumbered the Arkali, but the Arkali were able to fight almost like they were of the same mind and they needed no rest or food. Most of the population of the world was wiped out, and the dead were resurrected as Arkali. It was not long before it became clear that the Arkali Wars were not to be won, but survived. Much of the Population fled north to what was left of Weslyth. Others fled south and west and sought refuge by whatever means they could. Some live in cities surrounded by fortifications. Some are nomads constantly on the run. Some have found lands which the Arkali have not yet reached.

A select few survivors are dedicated to ending the scourge. They come from all walks of life and represent the best, strongest and brightest that humanity has to offer. They are Known as the Paragons of Orthalyn and you and your comrades count yourselves among them.

Chapter 1- "Here's the skinny"

You all wake up in what looks like an infirmary. You can’t recall how you got there. The last thing you remember is an Arkali Trident through Jeptin’s chest

A gnomish healer is speaking with an elf in hushed tones across the room. They stop wispering when they see you awake. They both go wide-eyed as if they’d seen a ghost and the gnome runs out of the room shouting “Declan! They’re awake!”.

The elf appears to be in her late 20’s and has the point of her left ear cut off. Her hair is shoulder length and appears to change with the light. She wears a chainmail vest with a red cowl and a single leather sleeve buckled in place on her left arm. She has a crude key tattoo on the right side of her neck. Her wrists have multiple scars and there is a scar from a friction burn around her throat. It’s obvious she’s been through some kind of hell.

You are all laying supine on mats on the floor. Wounded soldiers lay on cots around the room, most are unconscious.

She kneels next to you and says: “My name is Enfys Gwalchine. I know you must be very confused right now. Let me tell you what we know and maybe you can fill in the blanks.”

She lights herself a cigarette, offers some to you and takes a short puff.

“Filthy stuff, I know. Here’s the skinny: We found you dead in the middle of Nerull’s Reach. Not injured or sick, dead. That’s not uncommon, though. Most people we have to leave behind, unfortunately. We have magic that can resurrect, but we don’t have enough materials to do it for everyone.”

A healer comes by with a jug of water and some cups. Enfys thanks him and pours each of you a cup.

“You should drink that. You still haven’t fully recovered. Anyway, the reason we used up our supply is because of that book you carry” She gestures toward the Journal Jeptin gave you.

“None of us can read it, but we recognize the language as Orcish. That language has been dead since the Arkali wars, which means that book is one of only two we’ve found that date back to before the Scourge began. It also means that you and your comrades come from the grey wastes, south of the Bastion wall. No one has come from there since the Arkali wars. Our entire society is based on the premise that the Wastes will never be re-claimed and that the six nations are all that’s left of humanity. That belief is why we’re considered a subversive organization by the entirity of Irythan.”

Enfys hands you the book and says “We need to know what it says. Can you read it?”

You can recognize the letters, but the words make no sense. It seems to be some kind of cypher.

Enfys throws her Cigarette butt aside and says “I know this is a lot to take in, but we have to know what’s in that book.”

players tell Enfys

Enfys curses under her breath in Draconic: “You have to be screwing with me. Not only is it in a dead language, but it’s encrypted. I need to tell my comrades about this. I’m guessing you’ll probably want new gear since the stuff you came with was destroyed. Our healers should have you walking shortly and I’ll have Myran take you to the Armory. You’re clearly Paragons, so you can have your pick from the racks.”

Enfys gathers up the cups and the jug and walks out.

Shortly after, An dwarven women walks through the door. She has a crossbow slung over her back. She’s wearing red, loose fitting shirt under a leather jacket and grey pants with about 10 pockets.

She speaks with a low Kaptalis accent (think new jersey). “Myran Khamuna, and you are?”

“Well met. Enfys asked me to get you kitted up. Follow me to the armory.” Myran leads you down a corridor and asks you what your story is and how you ended up joining the paragons in old Orthalyn.

“Solid”, she replies, “Enfys and I met in prison in Kaptal and joined the Paragons together after we busted out. We’ve been best god damn friends ever since.”

She looks you square in the eye, stone faced, and says “I would go to all seven hells and stick around for that elf. If anyone so much as thinks about causing harm to her, I’ll feed them their kidneys.”

You come to a locked iron door on the left. Myran pulls a ring of keys from one of her many pockets and unlocks the door.

You see Enfys running around the corner, bow drawn and holding a fistful of arrows. She stops in front of you, turns around, knocks an arrow and aims down the hall she came from.

She says in a frantic, yet calm tone “Fask raiding party. About a hundred. They’ve got Declan and a squad is coming this way. Get inside the armory”

A fask soldier rounds the corner and shouts in a language you don’t recognize. Enfys looses her arrow, which embeds in the soldier’s throat, jolting him backward and laying him dead.

Myran rushes you through the door and enfys closes it behind you.

equipment selection and spell preparation

Chapter 2- "How do you want to play this?"

You frantically prepare your equipment and ready your spells. All the while, Fask dragoons are pounding at the door.

Looking around, you see several weapon racks and armor shelves. There are 3 barrels of dragon powder stored by the door. A collection of adventuring gear like grappling hooks, torches, oil, and camp gear is stored by the window. Specialist kits are under the weapon racks.

The room is about 20×15 feet and there is only one door and a single window 5 feet off the ground, about 3 feet square and barred on the outside. The hallway outside is 10 feet wide and extends 20 feet in each direction.

Looking outside the window you can see flat rooftops over narrow alleys. A patchwork of ladders and makeshift plank bridges connect the rooftops.

You don’t know how many Fask dragoons are outside, but the ones you saw seemed to be even skill person for person. You were evenly matched by numbers when you went inside, but reinforcements may have arrived since. Enfys is looking out the window while Myran is bracing the door.

Enfys turns away from the window to face you and says “Alright. How do you want to play this?”

Chapter 3- "The fuck do we do now?"

After surviving the attack, you and your comrades catch your breath in a market square. Enfys fumbles for a cigarette, curses in Termali and throws the box across the deserted street.

“So,” she says, “What the fuck do we do now? Declan’s been captured along with the rest of our cell, our home base is in ruins, we have no weapons or supplies and I need a fucking cigarette.”

Enfys slumps into a seat against the wall and starts fidgeting with a knife.

Myran turns to you with a serious look on their face. They sigh and say “She’ll be okay. We should go pick up some cigarettes for her, though. Walk with me.”

Myran leads you down a thoroughfare and continues talking. “I should explain to you what we’re looking to achieve for Irythan. You’re Paragons, so you know we’re looking to end the scourge. You need to know how. For centuries, the Paragons have been seeking out pre-scourge knowledge and safeguarding it from the bastion inquisition. We’ve been looking for a weakness we can exploit in a war against the Arkali horde. We don’t know what that weakness is, but we know that their ability to coordinate in large numbers as if they were a small strike team is what gives them their edge. They’ve also shown a remarkable ability to adapt. Every time we find a tactic that works, that tactic becomes useless the next time we fight them.”

Myran hands a vendor ten coppers and takes a box of cigarettes from his stall.

Myran continues: “Finding a weakness is one struggle. The other, which is arguably more daunting, is to build an army. How to build that army has been a subject of debate among the Paragons ever since our post-scourge founding. Many of my comrades believe the best course of action is to unite the armies of humanity for a great march south of the wall. Another number of us believe the best course is to inspire those who are oppressed to fight for a new world. Enfys and I are among that number. The Scourge was created by men who sought to wage genocide on the Orcs because they thought themselves better. The powerful will always find reasons why they need more power and they will always take shortcuts that end in tragedy. The scourge may be the most recent calamity, it was not the first and if we allow the present power structure to persist, it will not be the last. Apocalyptic events come in cycles and ending the scourge is meaningless unless we end that cycle.”

Myran stops and looks you straight in the eye and says: “Unfortunately, we have lacked the ability to inspire the common people or to unite the six nations. That’s why your arrival is so significant. You represent humanity’s stubborn will to survive and you are a symbol of hope for the future. That kind of symbol has more power than the largest army in Irythan. You could stabilize nations or bring empires crashing down. You know where I stand, but the choice of how to build an army falls to you.”

Myran walks over to Enfys and lights her a cigarette. Enfys take a lungful and embraces Myran like a sister.

She sighs and says “Thanks, Myran. I’m sick and fucking tired of losing good people in raids.” She takes another puff “Now, about the question I asked on tobacco withdrawal. The fuck do we do now.”

players confer

If asked, Enfys and Myran will both recommend a rescue mission for those captured by Fask soldiers.

Enfys says “I say we hit them on the road. They’ll need to pass through Druid’s wood. It’s the perfect place to set up an ambush. I’ve been on a forced march at Fask spearpoint. There are always deaths.”

Myran says “We should break them out of prison. It’ll give us more time to plan an attack and we may be able to pull a mass break-out like we did at Gorch’thul. Plus, if we want to hit them on the road, we’ll have to take a shortcut to pass them. It could get us killed.”

Chapter 4- "Paragons don't leave people behind"

Myran listens to your plan, thinks it over in her head and says: “Let’s go for it. I need some payback anyway and my gut says we can pull this crazy idea off. Besides, Paragons don’t leave people behind”

Enfys says: “We should get moving as soon as we’re ready. I’ll get us a room in the Hawk’s talon. We can return to the enclave tomorrow to look for leftovers and survivors after local troops have chased off the last of those fask bastards. After that, we need to get moving. Go ahead and hit the market while I book us at the Inn. We can prep our gear and make the powder charges when we get to our room.”

Myran hands each of you 300 in gold and walks with you to the Market.


When you return to the Inn, you see Enfys making conversation with the Halfling bartender.

“Speak of the devil,” she says “comrades, this is Milo. He’s an old friend and the innkeeper at the Hawk’s talon”

Milo cracks a small keg and pours each of you a mug of ale.

“On the house. Enfys was just telling me about the fiasco in the market district this afternoon. I heard the explosion from here and I thought Fask was invading. Although i suppose they were.”

Milo leaves the keg on the bar and invites you to help yourselves.

“Anyway. I’m an informtion broker. Spymaster, if you’re trying to butter me up. Don’t worry, anyone with a friends and family discount need not worry about me divulging their secrets. Enfys told me about what happened to your friends. Fortunately, a Fask prisoner escort party large enough to scare off the city guard tends to attract attention. They left the city in a hurry going full sprint on horseback. Most of those horses will die of exhaustion but all those Fask bastards care about is getting across the border. They’ll slow down once they cross it.”

Milo grabs a roast of mutton and potatoes out of the oven and starts carving it up.

“A chamber maid at one of the watch-towers told me she saw them leave. It’s bad news. They’ve got a batallion of musketeers and a squad of heavy knights on escort duty. That’s 30 elite footsoldiers with guns and 10 knights in full plate armor on horseback, plus a general. Not a force you can take head on. At least not without help.”

Milo hands each of you a plate of the roast. Myran tosses him a couple of silvers.

“One of my contacts is a ranger operating in those woods. He’s not a huge fan of Fask soldiers. His name is Harxen and he may have more ideas on how to hit them. I can arrange a meeting somewhere in the wilds if you like.”

Enfys gets up and says “That’s up to our new friends here. I’m going to go get the room set up for arts and crafts. Come up whenever you’re ready.”

Milo refills your mugs and hands each of you a vial of clear liquid “Those vials contain an antidote for ‘excessive celebration’ if you get my drift. You have any more questions for me? I can tell you a lot about what’s going on in the 6 nations.”

player questions

Enfys comes back down the stairs and beacons you to come up to the room. Milo clears your plates and reminds you to sober up before you handle explosives.

In the room you see a workbench with several sizes and shapes of liquor bottles, Several pots of metal scrap and nails, a variety of fuses and flintlock triggers and the large jar of gunpowder salvaged from the now destroyed armory. Enfys looks at Lorraine and says “Yeah, we have something in common.”

In addition to the explosives kit, you see a variety of specialized arrows and bolts, a dozen vials of liquid with various warning labels, half a dozen tanglefoot bags and several large bottles labelled “flammable”.

Enfys offers the advice that it’s probably best to make charges which are flexible because you don’t yet have all the information on the convoy.

Arts and crafts time

After you finish preparing your gear you feel exhausted from the day’s adventures.

As you sleep, you dream that you are in a small city. It is not one you recognize, but you recognize the language spoken around you. An alarm bell is ringing from a watchtower in the center of town as people begin to rush indoors and board up their windows. Everyone not indoors is scrambling to grab weapons, valuables or their children. You hear an awful roar from the skies and you see a small host of Arkali forces butchering citizens as they rush your position. You fight hard. Each of you mows down line upon line of Arkali infantry. Myran calls a retreat and you flee with her to find a more defensible position. You scramble up to the top of a catwalk and begin firing on Arkali below. The Arkali turn to go after easier prey, but when you begin to pursue, you see a spray of acid come down from the sky. Your skin begins to peel off and you feel extremely hot, then extremely cold. The pain incapacitates you and you die shivering and in shock while Arkali soldiers trample over you on the way to a large fortress.

Chapter 5- "No time for Crazy dreams"

You wake up the next morning to Enfys singing while loading arrows into a hip-quiver.

“Up with Halberd out with spear, on we go now with no fear. Fiach Mchugh has given his word. Follow me up to Carlow”

Myran is running a last minute check on her crossbow and adjusting the sights. She sees you stirring, slings the crossbow over her back and says “Are you alright? You were thrashing in your sleep last night. All four of you. In perfect synchronization. Bad dreams?”

“That’s definitely strange. The same dream in four different languages in the exact same city. I can’t say it’s not some prophesy from a deity with a twisted sense of humor, but it could very well be an after-effect of the teleport spell. Magic does weird things to the mind. Besides, we need to go rescue our friends. No time for crazy dreams.”

Enfys tosses you your gear and says “We should get moving. We’re supposed to meet Harxen at noon and we still need to check the old hideout.”

Seeing the city of Caer’Daugh for the first time in full, unobscured daylight is astonishing. The city is built on a series of 3 cliff terraces, with the top one continuing as a gentle hill with a massive citadel at the top. A series of staircases and gentle ramps connect the terraces and some buildings extend from one terrace to another along the cliffside. You can see the charred remains of your armory poking out the wall of one of the cliffs.

Enfys says to you: “We should probably go in the way we came out. The main entrance is by the east gate, so we can use this detour as a shortcut. If there’s anything we can use, salvage it. City watch is likely to be guarding the entrances, so we’ll either have to sneak past them or talk our way in.”

On approaching the Armory, you see a pair of guards at the ladder you took down from the roof. Their backs are against the wall and they are scanning the square for signs of anyone approaching the ladder. No guards are Visible on the rooftop.

The armory is burnt out shell. Everything you see in the armory is destroyed beyond use. The charred corpses and limbs of the Fask strike team litter the ground. You see Enfys and Myran combing the wreckage. Enfys asks you to check the Fask soldier’s bodies. (see below).

The larder is more or less intact and you manage to stock up on trail rations. The infirmary’s stock of potions and medical supplies was nearly destroyed by the shockwave, but you manage to salvage two healer’s kits and three potions labeled “for light wounds”. The upper floor of the compound is nearly untouched by the explosion, but it’s a bloodbath all the same. Fask soldiers and paragons alike lay dead, slain by all manner of weapons. Enfys goes over the bodies of fallen paragons one by one reciting a prayer. There are about three dead Fask troops for each fallen Paragon. Your comrades put up a hell of a fight.

There is a single lone guard at the entrance. He’s smoking a pipe and has a scowl on his face.

After exiting the base, Enfys and Myran guide you to the gate. A guard captain sits slumped on a wall with his face buried in his hands. A line of dead bodies covered in sheets lies in front of him. Guards mingling by the gate are using very colorful language to describe the fask soldiers that came through.

A foot trampled dirt road with a small blood trail lies in front of you, leading to a massive green forest on the horizon.

Chapter 6- "They're going heavy"

The blood trail on the road fades to nothing after about a half mile and the hoof-prints get softer after about 5. 10 miles down the road, you come by a grey war-horse in Fask barding. She is slumped down on her side, in pain and dying of exhaustion. Myran kneels down and says “Fask bastards don’t give a crap about their horses. They pushed her far past the breaking point. There’s nothing we can do for her by mundane means”

You hear a voice say “try magic”. A human male appearing to be in his mid 30’s steps into view out of the underbrush. He wears a chain-shirt under a grey and green trench coat with a hood. Hides are put into place in various locations on the coat and threaded with grass and fresh branches from the local flora. He wears a pair of loose fitting green leggings and a pair of knee-high leather boots. His lower face is covered with a wool mask and he has an oak-leaf tattooed over his left eye. He carries a warhammer and a sickle and has a bow slung over his back.

The man gives a traditional salute recognized by the elves among you. “Harxen Jethralli.” he says “You must be Milo’s friends. He sent word you were on your way.” Harxen sheaths his sickle on his hip and slings the warhammer over his back.

“I’ve been tracking that caravan since last night. Right now I have my eagle, freefeather, tracking them from the air. They aren’t exactly subtle. Any untrained idiot could track them with the trail they’re leaving. Weslyth won’t risk war by going after them, so they don’t need to worry about being sneaky anymore. They’re going heavy. Some of the escort split off after they crossed the border, but it’s still not a group we should go after head-on. Last count, I had 4 knights, 12 musketeers and a general supervising the whole force. In a cruel efficiency typical of Fask, the prisoners are being made to pull the supply carts now that the horses are dead. Racist fucks have already started branding the elves and gnomes.” Enfys shifts uncomfortably and starts massaging her left shoulder-blade. She fumbles for a cigarette and lights it.

Harxen continues: “Also, I’ve found out they aren’t being taken to Fask. The caravan is bound for Kaptal and the prisoners are being sent to work there in the foundry at Gorch’thul.”

Myran loads her crossbow and says “No way in the seven hells is that going to happen. Let’s go hit these fuckers.”

Harxen offers to lead you through a shortcut in the woods which will head the caravan off and he hands you three maps of potential ambush sites he and freefeather have discovered and offers to fill you in on details he wasn’t able to put on the maps while you walk with him.

Chapter 7- "Let's go kick their asses"

After nearly a day’s hike, you reach the ambush site. The caravan has not come by yet but Harxen tells you it’s about a half-hour away. Enfys suggests setting up whatever you need as soon as possible.

You set up the ambush and wait for the convoy to arrive. 10 minutes later, you hear hoofs tramping and cart wheels rolling, soon followed by marching footsteps and muttering voices.

Enfys whispers a short prayer and says to you: “We’ve got six people to their 15. They’ve got guns and heavy cavalry and they’re some of the most elite soldiers Fask has to offer. Let’s go kick their asses”

begin round by round combat

After the fight, Harxen returns. “I’m sorry” he says “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I owe you an explanation. I used to be in the Faskian army, the elite guard, just like the ones you got done killing. I want nothing to do with that life anymore. The shit I’ve seen, the shit (sigh) what I’ve done is something no one should be able to just walk away from. Those men you killed deserved to die, but I knew them as friends once.”

Harxen approaches a man with his abdomen torn open and his left ear torn off by shrapnel. The man is still breathing, choking on his own blood. Harxen kneels down, says goodbye and slits the man’s throat

Harxen says: “He was an evil man who committed acts of genocide. He was killed in the process of his final one. His name was Tarker, his favorite drink was whiskey and cider, he loved his family and homeland and his death was completely justified. He was evil, but he was part of humanity. Never forget that. When we begin to see our enemies as less than human, we become enemies of ourselves.”

He gets up, sheathes his blade and continues: “When Milo set up our meeting, did he tell you why I requested to meet in person?”

“I requested this meeting because I wanted to see her for myself” He points at Enfys and begins speaking to her directly. “Do you remember me, Enfys?”

Enfys goes wide-eyed, draws her bow and points it at Harxen with an arrow ready to fly.
“You BASTARD!” she says “You killed my brother. You burned my home. I should drop you where you stand.”

Harxen takes a deep breath and says “My life is yours to take, I’ve done just as much as the men in this caravan. I ask you to listen first. I don’t seek to prolong my life, I seek redemption for what I’ve done. I seek to bring the genocidal iron rule of the Fask Empire crashing down on men like me. Nothing can change what I’ve done, I only seek to do a monumentally good thing before I die. Enfys, you were the reason I left the army. I grew up in fask learning from birth that elves were savages who sought to bring civilization down and replace our homes with dark woodlands. I was told what we were doing was for the good of the empire, that it would save my family from a painful death. Who was I to question the entire basis of my life? Then I saw you. You were a child, scared beyond anything I could imagine. Most of the elves I killed would ask me to spare their lives or promise me some form of damnation for my crimes. But you just looked at me and asked ‘why do I have to sleep?’. It took me completely by surprise, you had been seeing it all around you your whole life and you still didn’t understand the concept of death. You didn’t escape by some miracle. You escaped because I let you go. Enfys, saving you was the first good thing I ever did. My only request is that you let it not be the last. Let me help you, then take my life.”

Enfys has tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her jacket. Her aiming hand is shaking. She forces a smile and says “I can’t possibly decide. I sure as hell don’t trust you, but I do believe everyone deserves a chance at redemption.” She turns to you and says “Any suggestions?”

Enfys slings her bow over her back and says “Now that that’s done with, we’ve got a prison to burn.”

Chapter 8- "Favor for a Favor"

Enfys swipes the keys from the very thoroughly slain general and begins unlocking the chained paragons. After everyone is unlocked, she and Myran set about treating the wounded and over-extended. You see the one Enfys referred to as Declan refusing treatment until everyone else has been treated.

Finally, Enfys begins treating Declan for a laceration on his left shoulder and blunt trauma on his rib-cage. Declan says to Enfys: “Okay, remind me. How many times have you saved my hide now. I’ve lost count.”

Enfys holds up four fingers in one hand while palpating his ribcage with the other “Now stop talking until I check you for broken ribs. I know you may not care if one of them punctures a lung, but I’ve got limited healing magic and I’d rather not make it five times just yet.”

Declan cracks a smile and says “Don’t be like that. Then we’d be even. By the way, I have a renewed empathy for that sore spot on your left shoulder. Fuckers marked me this morning.”

Enfys replies: “Yeah, branding sucks a mind-flayers left nut. As for being even, the Arkali business in Norallis doesn’t count and the rescue from that mining company in Heptus was Myran’s idea.”

Enfys gestures to you and says: “Declan, these are the new kids. Lorraine’s a damn good sorceress and makes the devils asshole of explosives. Brill is an unscourged orc and I wouldn’t recommend drinking with him if you like your liver. Cade is a cheeky little shit who can backstab with the best of them, though I’d keep an eye on your wallet around him. Irythan is deadly with a bow or a sword and I would not recommend challenging him from horseback or as a necromancer.”

Declan looks you over and says: “I though they’d be prettier. Never mind, can’t be too picky. Fate of the world and all that.”

Freefeather swoops down from the sky and whispers in harxen’s ear. Harxen swears in Sylvan and says “Freefeather just got back from a sky-scout. Apparently a legion of Fask troops is heading this way. They heard the explosions. The destroyed bridge will delay them long enough for us to get away, but I’m afraid we’ll have to go back to Weslyth. I know a shortcut through the woods that will get us to another bridge so we can cross this gorge, but we have to move now. I know we still need to liberate that prison, but we’re in no shape to do it right now. I know a place we can stay for the night before heading back tomorrow.”

Harxen cuts a path through the brush and leads you and your friends down it. Declan covers the rear with a stolen musket. You travel through the brush for about two hours and an hour after dark, you come to a ridge overlooking a small lake surrounded by campfires and torchlit criss-crossing paths. Harxen drops pack and says “Orthanlynis Teth’lorax.”

A small cadre of druids emerges from the treeline. Most appear in their early 40’s, but there are a few who look older. The eldest looking is an elven woman appearing to be in her mid 60’s. She has gray hair and emerald green eyes that seem to flap in the wind rather than twinkle in the torch-light. She wears a short, green robe over hide armor and carries a sickle.

“Hello, fellow children of Orthalyn. My name is Retanna Shialis and I am the elder of this circle. Come with me and I’ll get you set up with shelter. We can’t offer much, but you’re open to our hospitality.”

Trees from both the top and bottom of the ridge move their branches to form a ladder to the bottom. Retanna begins to climb down and beckons you to follow. At the bottom, you see a small camp set up in the trees. Hammocks hang from the limbs and you see druids and rangers sharing meals and playing regicide on platforms erected on the branches and around the trunks. Some are having sex in the forest canopy and others are skinny-dipping in the brook. Animals move freely about chasing each-other. Even the trees appear to be moving about by their own will. You have never seen so much life in one place.

Retanna invites you to a campfire where the brook meets the lake and ladles each of you a bowl of stew. “So,” she says, “I would guess by the cuts and bruises you sport and the gunpowder on your hands that you had something to do with the Fask caravan being attacked. I take it you’re heading back to Weslyth to re-group, correct?”

Retanna clears your empty bowls and sets them in the brook. “Get some rest,” she says “Sleeping in these hammocks will heal your wounds. I’d recommend leaving at dawn.”

Retanna walks to a tree and clambers up the branches as though she was walking up the trunk. You bundle up in your hammocks and feel the day’s adventures catching up with you.

As you sleep, you have another dream. You’re on a Bastion dreadnought over open water. The air is uncomfortably warm and extremely humid. You and your comrades are wearing bastion naval armor and those around you are calling you by names you don’t recognize. You hear a man from the crow’s nest yell “Starboard side! Red sails, three ships inbound.” You look Starboard and see three arkali corvettes with the sails dyed rust-red. Arkali boarding parties are crowding the bow of each ship rattling shields and brandishing axes.

The captain of your ship gives the order to load all cannons and ram the center ship. Your auxiliary sails unfurl and the helmsman changes wind direction by magic. Your ship hits the Arkali corvette head-on and jolts to a stop, flinging you onto the deck. Your captain orders a counter-boarding and your other shipmates lift you to your feet and hand you weapons. Among the cannon-fire with the other two ships, you leap onto the ship you just rammed. You hear leathery wingbeats from the sky loud enough to drown out the bedlam and cannon-fire around you.

“We need help over here!” You spring up, thinking it was another Bastion sailor. After a moment, you realize that you’re no longer dreaming.

“Get down here! He’s not breathing” (heal check dc 12, can take 10)

You find an elf laying supine on the ground. He has no pulse and you see extensive injuries consistent with a fall. The druid who called for you says he was unconscious, but alive when he got here. She says he was brought back here by a scouting party so he could be healed and she had sent for a healer when he stopped breathing. She says healing magic doesn’t work unless the recipient is breathing.

You begin compressions on his chest and enfys casts mage hand to push air into his lungs. After a minute and a half, he begins breathing again and you can feel a pulse. Retanna steps in and casts cure critical wounds. The elf regains consciousness.

Chris can now take control of his character


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