While staying at Castle Criag, the party was surprised when a man entered the tavern that Tobin knew – it was his adoptive older brother, Samuel. He explained to Tobin that their mother had died, and he had some misgivings about his father and how Tobin was seemingly “sold off” to a man known as “J”. After some catching up, Sam decided to accompany the party to Hellgate Keep, despite the danger, as he wanted to remain with Tobin – the only family he still cared about.

While on the way to the Keep, the party encountered a man being harassed by a pack of wolves. Aroland Swiftwind identified the alpha dominated its mind with magic, calling the pack off the traveler. He introduced himself as Adon, and went on his way to Arabel. Dalren Dlardrageth then appeared to Aroland, and eventually the rest of the party, to discuss what would happen at Hellgate Keep. Through their arguments with him, the party decided to try and “steal” the ritual from Malkazid, completing it in their own way to ensure the spirits within were released to their planes and not imprisoned or used by Malkazid for his own purposes.

The party had made camp near a small wooded area just outside the ruins of Kilgrave. Aroland sat cross legged holding the Feybane blade in his hand, twirling it and examining the intricate carvings in the blade. The screaming faces of demons and tortured souls. An almost tangible blue energy ebbs from the eyes and mouths of these carvings, almost assuradly the visages of souls taken by this blade.

He could still remember the feeling of his mind being entranced by the blades power. His eyes betrayed him, and he nearly hurt his friend. The power of one of the amulets he held kept the sway of the blade at bay, but he was still under its control – by threat of the blade causing harm to others.

He looked up as he saw Tobin walking back from the forests’s clearing, where he had set up a small shrine to the Selandrine and asked for guidance. The somber look on his face said all that was needed about his path. Every path we’ve taken since this started has led us to danger, but never like this. Hellgate keep. For centuries this keep has been home to a host of demons, after they over-threw the previous inhabitants – devils – who were summoned by malicious arcanists. They were walking into a veritible Hell on Toril, to leave them a weapon that causes so much pain and torment. They don’t have Duman to encourage them, or Deularla to comfort them. They alone chose and bear this burden.

He took the crystal out of his poutch and held it in his other hand, looking at it and the sword as if weighing them to see which was heavier. He was, in a sense, but not their weight in pounds…he considered them as forces…this crystal and this sword, two examples of how powerful artifacts could be used in different ways. Almost as if they sensed his thoughts, two souls appeared before him, Dargon, and a female elf dressed in noble regallia.

The woman spoke first, “How does one feel holding so much power in the palm of his hands?”

Aroland pondered for a moment before replying. “Heavy. I feel weighted by potential, by uncertainty, and I guess fear. What if I chose wrong? What if I doom countless lives?”

Dargon then answers, “Just as her majesty here, it is for those very questions you ask that we selected you, while carrying a similar burden ourselves.”

The woman speaks again, “In life, I ruled a nation of immense power. We had the means to accomplish so much, but I did not ask myself those questions enough. For generations, instead of using our power to build, we used it to destroy. It drove a wedge between our kind and created the monsters that created this blade. This was what the people wanted and so I continued these wars when I took up the crown. We thought we were doing good – protecting our people – but in reality we are responsible for the creation of weapons like this.”

Aroland looks perplexed, “This doesn’t help to instill confidence in my decision.”

Dargon’s wolf mouth forms a visible smirk, “The lesson is not yet finished. Let me ask you this, do you command the spirits of nature, neophyte, or do they command you?”

It didn’t take him long to realize it was a little bit of both.

The woman began speaking again “That’s right. I had misused the Crown that I had taken up. By following on the path that was already created I neglected to consider wether there was another way. When I finally did, I was betrayed by someone in our own court – and it was too late.”

Dargon took over again, “This is why you and your friends were selected. You asked, ‘Is this right?’, ‘Is there a better way?’. In the end, there may or may not be. What’s important is that you considered it. That you have the goal of the best outcome. We chose to trust you, and so we ask that you trust yourself.”

At this point a third visage appeared, another elven woman – but this one in ornately decorated armor. “It’s time Your Majesty, we can’t hold him any longer.”

Dargon gave Aroland a knowing look, and the Coronal gave him a pained smile, before they all three vanished. In their wake Aroland saw him, and knew immediately what it was. That presence pushing at his mind, a man that looked like the pinnacle of elven beauty but with red skin, curved horns atop his head, and dark, leathery wings extending from his back. He spoke no words, but looked at Aroland with a malicious smile before slowly fading away.

Aroland thought about his conversation with the ghosts and what Tobin’s deity may have had to say. It was a concept he had struggled with quite a bit himself, but had started to come to terms with inside Kilgrave. Good and Evil, what many call the eternal struggle. It’s an illusion….but does that make it meaningless? Which would be more evil, to allow this sword to take more souls in the hope that one day, all of them will be free? Or to hide the sword, prevent it from taking more souls but doom those inside to further eternity of imprisonment. A million people could have a million opinions on a subject such as this but in the end thats all it is – its an opinion. He trusts Tobin and his idea to try and hide the sword is not out of ill intent, but neither is Dargon’s idea to see it to its end. When all is said and done, one must look into his own heart to decide – and that is what Aroland did.

He placed the crystal back into his pouch and wrapped the blade in its cloth again. With renewed confidence he stood and set his gaze to the west. Hellgate Keep. A place of terror, death, pain, and torment. That was his destination. Perhaps the final destination for all of them. Aroland had already told them all to leave if they weren’t willing to risk their lives for this, and none of them would. He smiled as he found comfort in knowing that whatever they faced there, they would face together.

Tobin prays for guidance

To swift-footed Fenmarel Mastarine and far-shooting Soloner Thelandira, dear children of Angharradn and Larethian, I pray to you, O gods, watch over The Six Splendid Swords as we travel through the world, keep us safe from harm, guard us from evil, protect us from all ill, grant us the strength to overcome all obstacles, grant us the resilience to recover from loss, grant us the wisdom to find our way through the dark, grant us true friends to join us on our journey. Show us the joy in life, the pleasures of today and the promise of tomorrow. Give us the gift of a mind turned ever toward happiness and hope. Be with us, O gods, in good times and bad; favor us with insight and good humor, with the courage to choose freely and the wisdom to choose well. I pray to you, bless us with your many gifts. I seek any guidnence and wisdom you can spare you at this time for the evil artifact, Faybane, has disgraced us with its malignant presence. We are being presured to by the sword itself to send it to the spawns of hell themselves at Hellgate keep. Sending this blight into the hands that will us it to its upmost seems the worst possible choice. I see only great pain and suffering going down this path but my vision is clouded and acute compared to your greatness. Please send me your wisdom, let me know truely the right path to take.
Peace and calm descend into my conscience and a lithe tenor voice fills all the recesses, as a tide upon the shore. “I hear you and I’m here for you. You ask me for a path to follow and I could give you that. I could tell you what was right at all times, tell you what turn to take, and when to sleep and eat. What then would I be left with? A puppit like Malcazed who now has broken strings and a broken compass. I guided him through life and then when free he ended up being lost and made the wrong choices. I chose you because I see your light and I believe you could be a beacon for others to follow. You can show the Elves and all of Cormyr that light and guide them down the right path. Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny. This world is your best teacher. There is a lesson in everything. There is a lesson in each experience. Learn it and become wise. Every failure is a stepping stone to success. Every difficulty or disappointment is a trail of your faith. I also chose you due to your youth. You are at a point in your life where you see things unclouded by those jaded by life’s trials. As you gain wisdom, please temper it with that innocence. Keep hold of what lets you see the truth around you with those eyes so young.
Now worry not, I’ll not leave you with nothing. This I’ll give you to contemplate, but the choice will still be yours. The spirit in the sword that spoke to you was one of those poor souls to be trapped unjustly and is seeking freedom to return to my glory. There are many good souls seeking release from their torment within the sword. Are they only seeking their release for their own ends? Will releasing those souls be enough to balance the scales for the evil that will come from your actions? You are not wrong in thinking that giving the sword to the demons will generate evil on a massive scale. It will also release chaos into the land. The chaos will lead to many acts that will create great good. This will also lead to the death of the dead three. Is it enough? Finally, this will also lead to your Father, who brought you into this world. Remember bad things do happen in the world, like war, natural disasters, disease, but out of those situations always arise stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Like you and your friends. Be the beacon to help them and those around you achieve their potential for good, to become more than just those feeding the darkness. Follow your heart and I’ll support you.”
The peace and light that filled me slowly ebbs away. “Thank you Lord Larethian for hearing me. Thank you for touching my heart and showing me the light when I turned to you. I’ll chose this rocky path before me. I’ll weather the darkness that comes and become a light there within. I’ll not let the faith you place in me drown in the tides of forth coming malevolence.”

It was the following morning when Belinay returned from her trip. She learned of Deularla Ithruen‘s death and the The Siege of Eveningstar. Aroland comforted her outside the Lonesome Tankard while Kali spoke with Dunman. Eventually Kali and Tobin came outside as well, and the party discussed whether or not to mention Dunman’s condition to Tesseril Winter. Eventually, the party decided to trust Dunman’s discretion and respect his privacy, and begin their journey without speaking to Tesseril.

The party departed towards Castle Kilgrave. Aroland, Belinay, Kali, and Tobin. When they were about an hour away they decided to scout the castle first fearing a trap. Aroland used a series of rituals to locate, befriend, and possess an owl and do a flyby of the keep where he spotted numerous undead – goblins and humans who had died in battle hundreds of years ago, and a familiar wold looking on. When he returned to his own mind he briefly saw the wolf but it vanished from the corner of his eye. The party decided to rest for the night at the nearby Castle Crag, and ventured to the keep the next morning (that night Tobin created some holy water).

When we arrived at the keep we set up defensive positions and began killing the creatures from range where possible, drawing their attention and bringing them out of the castle. When we saw that the supply of undead was much more than we expected, Aroland decided to pursue his vision from before. He ran inside the building and others began to follow. Belinay however, fell while jumping over a gap and hurt herself, and the image of her laying on the ground triggered a memory of the vision in Aroland. Everybody saw that Aroland was not wielding his club as they had believed, but instead the Feybane Blade. It took possession of his mind and put him in the place of the murderer in his vision, he struck at the same stone where Belinay just lay, and looked about the room as if searching for the woman in his vision until finally the party was able to draw him out of his possession. He immediately searched for and found the amulet and the crystal shard hidden by the woman in his dream, and upon picking up the shard felt the weight of the sword removed from his mind.

He found himself in a conversation with the wolf from before, Dargon Whisperwolf – who explained the curse of the Feybane blade and its true power. He explained that Aroland now had a burden upon his shoulder to take this blade to Hellgate Keep, and cast it inside. While this would be returning the blade to the hands of evil, it would eventually lead to the blade’s ultimate destruction.

After weighing the options the party decided to journey to Hellgate Keep – if they could find a way to destroy the blade before they reach it, they would try – but if not they would attempt to destroy it at a later date. Hellgate Keep was on the way to Candlekeep, anyway.

Hail, Gorion!
I am Kali Falar of the Six Splendid Swords.
We were referred to you by a reputable source and seek your aid. A great burden has been placed on our shoulders an we hope you can help is learn how to lift it. We Believe one of our own is the descendant of Bhaal and is part of a scheme the Lord of Murder is playing to prevent his own death as prophesied by by the wise Alaundo the Seer. We also wanted to seek information in regards to others that I suspect to be the children of Bhaal or assisting to make this plan come to fruition.
mellisan,

Strejar, Saravok, Rauko, Delotha, BlackTalon, and information on how gods have lost or willing parted with their divinity in the past.

We will be coming soon to discuss these matters with you. Please begin research on these things and their relationship with each other.

We will happily compensate you for your efforts.

Aroland sat in a tree in a small wooded area to the northwest of Eveningstar. He had spent the entire day cramped up in the Lonesome Tankard and needed some fresh air. He needed to feel the calmness and serenity that just isn’t present in the city. He had a lot to contemplate. “Tomorrow we depart on yet another dangerous journey. Lately, the danger in these quests is so much more real…more terrifying. In the past, all of the jobs we had taken had such definite threats. But now we deal with things we do not understand. Powers we can’t fathom. Plots we can’t see.” Aroland was not unfamiliar with the concept of Gods – he had spent his entire life learning about how he was surrounded by them. He feels most at peace at times like this, where he shuts the rest of the world out and just…listens to them. “But the Cormyrians do not think of Gods in the same terms as we do. They see Gods as powerful and believe that the world they live in is shaped by the actions of these beings. I do not see them this way. I see them as finite. Their power is defined by their domain. They reach and grasp to extend this constantly battling each other for scraps of power.”

Below him Aroland saw leaves swirling in the wind. A wistful air spirit. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of nature around him. The rushing of the water from the river that had saved Eveningstar from the Zhentarim just days ago. The leaves rustling as the breeze rolls through. Birds calling to one another. Deer prancing in the bed of the woods. "True gods do not act like this. True gods are found in nature. It is they who shape the world we live in. It is nature who creates the mountains and the oceans, which causes the sun to rise and set each day. It is nature that causes rain to fall and trees to grow. The power of spirits is not defined. There is no competition, only harmony. It is from this harmony where I draw my strength, so now I will look to that harmony to draw my knowledge as well. I must…shut the rest of the world out and just…listen.

Again Aroland closed his eyes and listened. He listened to the sounds of frogs croaking, the sound of thunder rolling in the distance. “A fire crackling….that’s not here…where am I?” Around him stood no walls. Support beams held up an unfinished roof, and freshly cut chunks of stone littered the landscape. Stone floors beneath his feet were fresh and unfinished. Before him stood a towering man clad in armor, his face covered in distress. Behind this giant of a man was a doorway and through that a staircase leading into the sky. The man lowered his visor, masking his pain, and spoke to the woman on the ground in a voice that was at once sad and terrifying. “I pray, that you have made peace with your goddess. Neither your silver tongue or your trickery can save you now.” The woman was bleeding from a wound on her side, and Aroland caught a glimpse of her necklace – with a triangle charm that had wavy lines etched into it .

Aroland turned to see the same woman bending down to pick another pendant off the ground, but he could not make out any details of this. No one in the room had yet seen her. She looked exactly like the woman on the ground. Behind her stood two more men, one armored and decorated as a knight or cleric, but the other stood out. The look in his eyes was frightening, hungry, focused, and…destined. The image of those eyes burned into Aroland’s mind as the world around him began to shift but he snapped back into focus.

The man quickly struck at the woman on the ground but his blade passed harmlessly through her and cut into the stone on the floor. He cursed and looked desperately around until he saw her in the shadows. She muttered a spell and 2 more of her appeared and ran in opposite directions. Each of the men chased after one of the illusions individually. Nobody seemed to pay any attention to the open rift amidst them. She spoke a few more words and a mist rolled through the stones and obscured everything around her. The man whose face was obscured was close. He could not be seen, but his presence made Aroland feel sick. A sense of pure evil emanated from the man. He carried the same feeling as that woman…Delotha. Strangely Aroland also felt a connection to the woman….“was it the amulet from before?”

He didn’t have time to continue exploring that thought though. The woman had managed to sneak behind the man with the evil presence. She lifted a stone with three cuts across its face and put the amulet into a small leather pouch, struggling to push the stone back into position. She grabbed her side and began struggling to breathe. She began to move off when the man caught sight of her and began to give chase. She moved into the nearby woods and stumbled. She coughed up blood and collapsed into the grass. The man began to speak but I could no longer hear what he said. She used her hands to pull herself up against a young tree. When his killing stroke landed it cut through her neck and his sword cut deep into the oak.

When he awoke, several creatures of the woods stood around him, watching. A wolf pup left his mother’s side and began to lick the sweat off his face. As soon as he sat up, though, all the creatures departed. As he returned to town he contemplated what he had seen. Who were those people? Where was that keep? What were that pendant and that stone? Aroland had sought answers but it seems he only found more questions…

Aroland Swiftwind, Kali Falar, and Tobin sat in The Lonesome Tankard the day after the tanner’s funeral. Dunman Kiriag was there too, in a better mood, but his health was in question as he coughed black ichor into his rag.

Kali Falar spoke up indicating that she had been doing research on the prophecy and the related parties and was able to find several documents. War of the Seldarine, Scroll of Jergal, Three of Death, Kali’s Scroll These documents outlined the relationships between several gods and important figures related to them. Strangely enough this document, while clearly ancient, was addressed to Kali with the date 1357 on it (the current year), and referenced events that would take place next year but did not give specifics. It also referenced that we need to go to Castle Kilgrave soon.

There was also a document outlining the ascension of Myrkul, Bane, and Bhaal to godhood. The last two documents were ancient elven documents – one detailing the fall of Malkazid and the other containing information on Jergal.

While the party poured over these documents they began to receive visitors. The first was Sword Captain Kristen Crownsilver, head of the contingent of Purple Dragons stationed in Eveningstar. She presented the party with a sack of coins and offered it as payment – really a collection from the citizens in thanks for their help defending the city. Aroland Swiftwind pushed it back and told her to use it instead for the cities defenses so that if they aren’t around next time they can defend themselves. She explained how before she believed this party was just another group using Cormyrs laws for their own personal gain, but now truly trusts and respects them.

Lord Seiveril Miritar came next, offering payment for the services of retrieving his family heirloom, the Keryvian. The party choose to accept payment in the form of information – all he knew about the events we’ve been exposed to. He was able to shed some light on some things, but not enough to give us any concrete goal.

Mother Tethos came and granted us several potions of healing. We gave her a sample of Dunman’s ichor to study and learn what she can.

Dhurthal Ironhand came and gifted his personal sword to Tobin (+2 Sword).

Deltar the Woodcutter came and offered the party some woodwork, which Kali accepted for a secret project.

Ladian Ruldo gifted the party two horses as well.

Finally Sonne Monocee came and gave the party a blessing.

The last visitor of the day was Delotha knight of Mor Cam, who came alone. Dunman was disarmed before he could even draw his sword and the woman sat at the table, drinking wine that was gifted by the priest. She asked to hire the party to go to Castle Kilgrave. The party refused, knowing it was a trap, and knowing they were going to go anyway. Perhaps if she believed we would not go she would not commit many resources to the trap…

The party spent the rest of the day preparing to travel to Castle Kilgrave.

From the perspective of Tobin

The day after the attack dawned bright and many of the town folk started this day just like most days. It was odd seeing people just go about business pretty much as they always had. Sure a few had a bounce in their step either due to their happiness at finding themselves alive or the thrill of a great victory and a few walked more slowly through the streets contemplating what this life meant or morning a lost friend. Most notably the Tanners. Kallen’s funeral would be a little later in the day after the grave was dug and everyone else was prepared for his time in the earth. Did I fail him? Wasn’t it my job to keep everyone safe? Sure as these things go it went splendidly well. One loss against an army of solders, who could ask for more. Still my heart was sore not only for him, his family but for Deularla too. It was almost too much to get up and get going this morning. How many times can someone lose their family members? I, for certain, didn’t want it to happen again. That meant getting up and training hard. So I got up and got going. I took a while to rouse Roland from his stupor. He had celebrated louder and harder than most even though I don’t recall seeing him at the battle at all. It makes me wonder who I have as my trainer. I suppose that results matter not the means by which they come or at least that is what Kali would say.
“Stop gawking and get back to work! If you’re getting me up this early I’ll not have you standing there staring at everyone who walks by.” He brays.
I start running around the inn again in my armour with a bundle of fags across my back. He said it would strengthen me up and put some meat on my scrawny frame. He has me work on balance and footwork. Barking orders and correct my stances while he goes on about he used to be the great so and so, how the world was cruel to put in a such a place to train a pup, still wet behind the ears. Today though I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the lessons and I’m not really paying attention to what he’s saying. Finally, exasperated he lets me go and get cleaned up for the funeral.
After washing off and getting in some of my newer cloths I go to Dunman’s room and bang on his door. “It’s time to start the procession to the funeral.” I yell through the door but there is no response. Feeling down again, I meet with the others and we head to the church. The priest says some flowery words at the altar, that does nothing so soothe my guilt, they gather the body and we proceed to the grave site. He has a family plot near his home.
How nice that must be. I think to myself as we proceed. To have a place to call home. A place your family can go to morn you or even speak to you after you’re gone. Where will I be when I die. Will they bury me behind the Inn? Maybe the communal plot in the church lost among all the other stones? Will anyone come to mourn?
As these thoughts chase one another through my head I notice someone unusual has joined the end of the procession. A man a head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the crowd. People make way for him almost without seeming to know he’s there. Arbold Tethyr, one of our wealthiest citizens in Eveningstar, actually bumps into him and profusely apologizes, a dazed look in his eyes. After the tall man passes Arbold sinks into a nearby doorway, head in hands, no seems to notice. He is cloaked all in black tattered robes and carries a long curved walking stick with a long gleaming blade affixed to the top. I fall back and match his step.
“I know who you are.” I say
“I have worked hard and long so that all know me. So all know that no matter how hard they work, how long they towel, how passionately they love, I’ll be waiting at the end.” the reply in a high whisper
“Why! Why do all have to cross your path?”
A hollow chuckle escapes the cavernous hood. A sound like that of a snake slagging off his dead skin. “Who are you to question me? The very balance of the world itself? Today though I’m feeling generous. Some say goodbyes make you think. They make you realize what you’ve taken for granted. So appreciate what you have before it becomes what you had. It drives them to succeed and clears the path for the new. Others think it is during the darkest of times when you understand and see life differently. People who you love become strangers and people who you have never met become your friends and angels. But when it comes down to it, I’m the truth, life nothing more than a beautiful lie. You’ll never know the last time you’ll see a place… or a person.”
“No!” I shout. “That can’t be all there is. I defy you and what you stand for. I will stop you. I’ll find a way to save those I love!”
“I can’t believe you people. I come for you, and you want to stay, I let you stay and you want to go. Like your friend Dunman. They were granted a reprieve. She probably believes it was all her doing, but I’m not thwarted that easily. Listen well child. No matter how far or fast you run. The world isn’t big enough to hide you from me.” he says it coolly. with no hatred or malice. Inevitable,… as death.
We walk on in silence. My mind reeling, my world torn asunder. He’s right, how could I have been such a fool. My new found goals of protecting everyone come crashing down around me. Visions of the end come to all those I love regardless of all my efforts. We come upon the grave and they proceed with committing the body to the ground. The priest continues on with his meaningless words.
“I’ll leave you with one last piece of advice. When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.”
I stay lost within myself as everyone leaves, except his wife and kids. Who start to fill in the grave. Is it so inevitable? As the last rays of the sun start to fade from the horizon Something else he said finally sinks in. Dunman! was it true and if so, why is he so reclusive. I run home to the inn as fast as my feet can carry me.
I throw myself at the door to his room, pounding frantically until finally he opens the door. He’s irritated no doubt about that. “Why won’t you leave me in peace! I could care less if the end is nigh, go away!”
He is about to slam the door in my face, but then he looks beyond me and his eyes go wide with terror. He shrinks back from the doorway. I turn around quickly and Myrkul is back. He slowly strides into the room and I follow in his wake. Without breaking stride, he goes to the corner where Dunman is cowering. Low moans escape his lips, which change strangled choking sounds as Death grabs his face and lifts him from the ground. Taken aback by this sudden violence I was momentarily stunned. I launch myself at the man in black, but I’m completely ignored, as insignificant as an ant.
“Tell me what you want.” the raspy whisper of a voice like the last breath of a dying man resounds through the room.
“Wha-what?” Dunman responds
“Tell me that you want her back and it’ll be yours… for a price.”
“Yes, anything you want. Just let me have her back.”
Slowly, drawing out his pain and fear as long as possible. Yet, as unstoppable as the juggernaut at the walls. He reaches into his pouch and removes a vial of foul ichor. As the stopper is pulled, a smell permeates the room of an open mass grave a week old. He pours it down Dunmans throat.
“You understand you will owe me a debt that will be collected.” said as a statement of fact, more than a question as he drops Dunman to the floor, who responds anyway “Yes, yes of course.” Next he pulls a gem from his pouch and drops it to the floor. “Swallow it and she will be with you when the need is great.” Dunman crawls over to the gem, puts it into his mouth and swallows. Pain etches his face as if every millimeter it travels tears his throat. Myrkul turns and begins to leave as if it was nothing and his thoughts are already on the next soul he will collect but he pauses by my side, leans down and whispers “She never left you.” Then fades away.
I lean down next to Dunman and make sure he is alright. While he recovers I go over the day’s events, his eyes darkening even more at the mention of Myrkul. As he stands a soft glow permeates the room and a peace settles over him. He daintily sits back down as lightly and effortlessly as a bird settling to a branch, just as I’d seen Deularia do a hundred times or more before our lessons. As her voice comes out from between his parted lips, tears start to stream down my face. I launch myself into her waiting embrace.
“There, there. Sweet child or should I say young man? You have turned out to be all I expected and more. The accounts of your actions at the battle have shown me so. Quite now, I have a lot to say and not much time to say it. I find this quite draining. I know what he told you has left you in doubt of your place. Hear me now and take my words to heart. Power is fortified not just by what it destroys, but also by what it creates. Not just by what it takes, but also by what it gives. Powerlessness reaffirmed not just by the helplessness of those who have lost, but also by the gratitude of those who have gained. You protect those around you so they can live full and meaningful lives. Not to prevent them from going to their true home, where all their ancestors wait to get them. You already possess the means to find peace. You only need to focus on letting go of hindering attitudes that give rise to grasping and identification, the likes and dislikes or the worldly phenomena that otherwise may overpower us. In life we do thinks. Some we wish we had never done. Some we wish we could replay a million times in our heads. They all make us who we are, and in the end they shape every detail about us. If we were to reverse any of them, we wouldn’t be the person we are. So just live, make mistakes, have wonderful memories, but never ever second guess who you are, where you have been, and most importantly where it is you’re going.”
Her presence fads from the room. Dunman comes back to himself, but he knows everything that occurred and he almost seems giddy knowing she is still here with him even if not as he would prefer. We talk late into the night about all we loved most about her. Much later as I finally lay down to sleep, I know that even though I can’t go back and start a new beginning, I can start today and make a new ending…

From the perspective of Aroland

The entire town came to the funeral of Kallen, the local Tanner. His wife and two chidlren wept at the side of his grave, while a priest from the local temple said a few words playing up his bravery during the seige.
Those words were not hollow. When the enemy was at the gates, Kallen – like all the others in this town – stood strong against the Zhentarim. A force of 400 peasants led by a handful of barely experienced adventurers staved off an army of trained soldiers.
I knew it was in no small part due to luck. Had they not managed to hold the obstructions on the bridge, more calvary than he could count would have rode through the city, burning buildings to flush out the defenseless and slaughtering them as they came.
Was life really that fragile? They had taken every precation possible, but one lucky arrow ended the life of Kallen. One well placed sleep spell broke the seige. Without that arrow, would Kallen have lived? Would his children still have a father around to teach them a trade? What will become of them without a father? Will they be drawn to a life of adventure after seeing their town be saved by “heroes” like us?
But the life of an adventurer is no safer. There is one town member who is very consipicously absent from this funeral. Dunman has hardly left the hall in days. He doesn’t eat well, he doesn’t sleep well. It’s as if he exists solely to mourn Deularla.
She does not even get the dignity of a burial. Her body is left in the hands of her enemies, and was likely not even shown as much regard as the Zhent soldier’s corpses we burned. In fact, its unlikely she’ll receive as much regard as the horses that fell in battle, who were skinned would have gone to Kallen for tanning.
I see why I’m drawn to nature now – in the wild, animals do not kill for what they do not need. The zhents had no need of this town – that is why they did not commit more to attempting to sack it. They were driven of a desire to hurt, murder, and destroy us. It is a concept I cannot understand, the reckless abandon they have for life.
That is why I’m so bothered by Stegar’s new attitude. He seems too drawn to this new aspect of himself – this Bhaalspawn – and it’s violent impulses. I would not argue that violence in and of itself is immoral – it is infact a vital part of the natural cycle – but it must be tempered by need, and Stegar reaches for reasons to convince me of need. I feel he reaches too far. I feel like I need to find a way to rid him of this influence, yet I cannot say so to him – I’m afraid his influence will drive him to stop me at all costs. Like a panther stalking in the night I must rely on subtlety stealth and subterfuge to hunt this prey. This will definitely be a challenge for me. I shall need to discuss with Kali and Belinay – perhaps their past experience will be of some help.

From the Journal of the Great Centaur Bard Strejer

The morning awakened like any other; a bright day full of hope and wonder. Unbeknownst to the members of the Six Splendid Swords, this sun would set on a bloody and historic scene.

It was early in the morning and the mercenary group was awakened by Sword Captain Kristen Crownsilver. Claiming official charter business, she, and Sampson of the Purple Dragons escorted the band to Tessaril Tower where they were addressed by Tessaril Winter. Lord Tessaril had received word of a pending attack on Arabel from the Zhentarimand the Cult of the Dragon and knew that the troops would be passing by their nearby city and wanted no part of this terror to encroach on her people. The group was needed to bolster defenses and protect the tiny town from the impending war. Rumor and information had given them little time to prepare. Sometime late in the evening, the Zhentarim were expected to be close enough to attack. There were reinforcements on the way from Arabel to Eveningstar, but they would not arrive in time. Lord Winter, was accompanied by her personal guard Bouclier, and five other capable warriors, mages and men of mischief. Shandril Shessair, Sampson, Dunman Kiriag, Deularla Ithruen and a man called Mirt had decided to take the opportunity of the attack from Thay to slip in, magically, past their defenses and lay waste to Zhentil Keep while it’s army, or at least some of it, was missing. With nary a word to the dangers they would encounter, nor with any show of hesitation, the powerful group vanished as their move would set in motion ripples of power, like that of a stone thrown into a clear, morning pond.

And, so it came that the Six Splendid Swords were to watch over this peaceful town of farmers and save every life possible.

The task was not an easy one and a good portion of the morning was spent in debate as to the best approach. Through prayer of the little one, Tobin, they had been made aware the best route of protection would be to protect the stone bridge on the northeast corner of town. With Arabel located to the east and Thay from the northeast, it seemed the most likely approach of the army. They would use the fast flowing river to protect against cavalry and funnel the troops in through the bridge, cutting down on the overwhelming numbers. Finally, after much discussion, a plan had been laid forth that the band agreed to. The next part was going to prove to be the hardest – they had to convince a group of farmers to pick up arms and fight an army. The band had received a writ of conscript from Lord Tessaril, but Kali and Aroland were loathe to use it unless necessary; they wanted willing fighters, not enslaved farmers. Gathered in the square of the city, they addressed and pleaded with the farmers, most of whom had never touched a weapon to begin with. First Kali, then Aroland, then Tobin. They made arguments of the need to protect their city. They made pleads of desire to raise up and overcome. The crowd was restless and only a few stood up to begin with; the blacksmith, the huntsmen, those who had experience in fighting. The farmers grew frightened and wanted only to protect their families. They wanted the children to flee, but Aroland reminded them that predators, when hunting a gazelle, will not pick of the strongest, but will go for the weakest, the ones furthest away from their protectors. And they knew that having the children would only lead to death. Finally, Strejer the bard, stood in front of the crowd and began to speak:

“We know this is a difficult decision. We know this is not easy. But we are out of options. Those who wish to do your family harm are sitting on our doorstep and we can neither run nor hide. Never before has there been a time, for this city, where we must pull together and do the unthinkable. We have reinforcements on the way, but who are we to need be saved by another? Can we not protect our own homes? Our own families? Are we ones to lie down as the wolf approaches and accept our fate? You want to protect your family? Do it here! Cowards run and hide and are we cowards? Nothing waits for us but death if we fail to pull together. Fate has dealt us a cruel hand, but this is our town, our home, our family. This… is our chance. Together we can withstand the harshness of winter; together we can withstand the thirst of drought. Together, we can withstand these beasts!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and yells, able men moved to the front of the line, fire in their eyes. Finally, they had been convinced to fight. The whole town had come together to assist in the preparations for the upcoming fight. A lone horseman was sent to the south bridge to monitor for any spies. The northeast bridge was barricaded by large pieces of debris and covered in pitch. Archers were set on the top of a nearby building, but there were only 10 of them. Jars of pitch and prepared arrows lay next to them. The children were sent to hide in cellars, with their families to protect their house. A large number of citizens were set to put out any blazes that would erupt. Then, the rest were scattered to vulnerable points in the city.

The preparations were completed and as the sun began to sink, all they could do was wait.

Aroland used his druid powers to communicate with the birds above them. Through them, they were alerted of a band of five or six enemies coming from the northwest, through the woods, but the remaining bulk of the forces still came from the northeast. Through the hazy glow of dusk, two figures appeared. It was difficult to make out what they were, long, rectangular objects appeared to be floating towards them. As they approached, Kali whispered a single word. “Barricades.” And that’s what they were. 8 feet wide and 5 feet tall, the two barricades, each concealing two members of the Zhentarim were set down on either side of the bridge. They appeared wooden in structure and not too thick. One of the archers laughed at the apparently ramshackle defenses and let loose an arrow of fire intent on burning the wood to the ground. To their horror, as the arrow struck the barricade, an audible CLINK was heard and the arrow bounced off of the barricade, the unmistakable sound of metal on metal contact reverberated across the river.

NOT FINISHED YET

-We pelted them with arrows from across the river. The zhents tried to use horses to clear the barricades but Strejer used sleep on them, one rider was put to sleep as well. both the horses and the riders were put down with arrows, effectively blocking the bridge from debris removal. The fighters from behind nearly killed some of the farmers but we reinforced and healed them. A lucky shot from the enemy instantly killed one of the rooftop archers. At some point, the roof they were hiding on caved in. Strejar made an illusion of throwing alchemists fire to one group, causing them to dive out of cover. They were pelted with arrows. Then he ran inside the fallen building to look for actual pots of pitch, and fashioned a makeshift grenade out of that, throwing it at the other group. One failed to dodge and was lit alight. He dove into the water to put it out…wearing steel armor, and drowned. Delotha knight of Mor Cam watched from across the bridge, smiled at us, and withdrew her army. All told only one person from Eveningstar lost his life that night.