#dndrecap

We open several days after Tactyl Y’mon’s devastating defeat in the Principium fight pits against a group of frankly better equipped fighters who tried beat the magic of friendship and teamwork into everyone and Emmi leaving for horizons unknown on a ship with her mother, with everyone else partway through a series of group training exercises under the watchful eyes of Sukaren and Core, each offering their own version of helpful criticism to strengthen the groups teamwork. After several drawn out battles and training montages even Sukaren is left speechless although whether that was due to her being impressed by the groups teamwork or frustrated by their upsetting amount of dumb luck is yet to be discovered. As the group catches their breath, Core approaches and asks if the group think they’ve had enough only to be met with a mostly exhausted sounding chorus of yeses before Core smiles like a proud parent and mentions that one of his acquaintances, an elderly seer who lives in Principium has had a dream about the group and asked everyone to come see her when possible for guidance and that they should leave now before Sukaren finds another beast for them to fight so she could keep criticising them. While walking to the city, the group encounters their sometimes dragon, sometimes halfling, all time nerd friend, Fulgur who seemed excited to discuss what the group saw of the outside world and the seemingly endless storm overhead. They discuss how everyone felt a vague pull in their hearts towards the portal that led here, the druids in Kincaid village who knew most of the group from when they came and how time didn’t match up outside, Septima and Fulgur discussed old friends and acquaintances like the high elf inventor, Hattori, disgraced and kicked out of their society due to the nature of his experiments and who was responsible for Septima’s current form. With Hattori’s mention, Whisky pipes up that she knows a high elf named Hattori as well, in a jungle far to the east, he was her old teacher and taught her everything she knows about fighting, although he was very secretive about his life outside of her direct teachings. As fate would have it, most of the team has encountered him or his works with Fulgur mentioning that the hammer dangling from Eridol’s side was also made by him and the rapier that Veiraen stabbed himself with was also the inventors creation. After several silent beats, conversation continues on to the Night Roc that still lives in the Jaunted Pillars and the dragon Nervilyth that escaped it’s soulbound prison with part of Septima’s essence. With the mention of the undead dragon, Fulgur falters and tells us that should be impossible, Nervilyth should have died centuries ago before Osteria was created. After several minutes of the possibly millenia old dragon umming and ahhing over how Nervilyth still being out and about is a bad situation for literally everyone, the conversation moves back to the very large bird that tried to eat everyone after their impromptu trip through the sentient fast travel system known as the slyph. The group give as many details as possible about the night roc, the general surroundings of the Jaunted Pillars and how it’s become an overgrown mushroom forest that you should absolutely not burn because it’ll mess you up, but if you ask nicely, the group does have 2 pounds of the stuff in the bag of holding … for science. With the impromptu drug deal out of the way, the group discusses how the Roc almost ate Eridol and some possible spots the bird could relocate outside of the fungal hellscape that was poisoning the forest and was definitely not the type of environment to raise a child, even if that child is very large bird that could probably deepthroat a cow. The group leaves Fulgur outside his shop as they continue southward through the city towards the newly gentrified slums of the city to the patchwork tent of the elderly seer that had asked for them. We see the physical embodiment of what you think of when you envision grandma vibes but with dirty, short scraggly hair, enough teeth to count on one hand and milky non responsive eyes. Introductions are made over fresh brewed tea. Core explains that the seer had seen glimpses of the past that seemed to tie in with our undead dragon problem before she interrupts and mentions that we carry a strange scent with us, earthy, very potent, possibly magical and while everyone instinctively looks at Septima, she scoots over and somehow suddenly deaf to our protests begins rummaging through our packs until she finds the magic mushrooms and gets very excited. Mentioning these will do nicely and would allow her vision to extend to encompass us as well so we could see what she sees, makes it easier than having to put into words what she sees. With everyone weirdly eager to take a trip with their new grandma, we arrange ourselves around a fire, all hold hands and get our edible on. The tent disappears around us as everyone feels a pull in their brain far to the east, they find themselves sitting far above an empty expanse of desert, a monstrously large range of mountains to the side as time begins to rewind itself. A bright flash appears and the expanse of desert is replaced with a continent spanning city, bejewelled and twinking like the night sky itself. Centuries and millennia pass in an instant. The mountains themself begin to shudder and shake as the rock recedes and forms into a immense draconic skeleton, the earth shudders open and closed over the eons as golden flesh returns to the great wyrm and it jerks back to life next to a burning and nearly destroyed city, fire curling back and returning to the dragon in a sick reversal that left large patches of the city undisturbed. As time begins to slow it’s reversal and begins slingshotting back to where we came from the seer points to the golden great wyrm, proclaiming it as Aggadon, a powerful tyrant who’s bones hold together the earth itself. The city under attack is Aggadon’s Reach, the home of Septima, Fulgur and others from centuries ago. In the seconds before the city disappears in a flash, we see several small coloured dots racing towards it from all directions. Blue, Green, Black, White and Red. Septima is the one to confirm that they were Nervilyth and several other dragons that had come to shatter the hold Aggadon’s bones had over the earth itself and usher in a new age of destruction. As the vision fades, everyone finds themself in a grey expanse before a flash of violent purple light can be seen from within the seers still unresponsive eyes as she begins writhing unnaturally on the ground, she screams that the dreamwalker approaches and to run before the screams are cut short and she stops convulsing, body still contorted in a grim knot, rising slightly off the ground like a marionette on its strings. Her eyes replaced with a void of stars as she looks through everyone present and in a cacophony of voices says it looks west for strength and with a flick of her hand, three small specks of light appear in the seers withered hand as Core, Septima and Veiraen fall to the ground dead. She looks past Whisky and Donnatello, towards the small faltering figure of Eridol, a look of annoyance flashes across the elderly face as the voices whisper “God-touched” before the rictus grin reappears and the seer’s body begins folding in on itself. Each sickening snap and scrape the only sounds in the void before the body drops, whatever forced connection severed by the entity calling itself the dreamwalker. The expanse disappears and everyone is back in the tent. The already muffled sounds of outside were muted by the carnage inside the tent. Eridol screams and begins shakily reciting the prayers to resurrect the fallen comrades. Whisky and Donnatello try to make the seer comfortable while Eridol works. It feels like hours later when he finishes, Core, Septima and Veiraen conscious and the seer clinging to life. The group determines that whatever this is it’s above what they can deal with and petition Core to let them take it to the remaining council members of Ostaria. Upon hearing the news of what they have seen the council members mention that there is little they can do here. These entities are far older than anything their libraries would contain and if the group needs information they would need to leave the general safety of the country and travel abroad, quiet discussions occur about the available destinations and two options are given that garner a split vote. They could travel to the libraries of a magical city to the east or the religious archives of Eridol’s home country of Falthresh, far to the west. With a an even split of votes on where to go, the group splits, Septima, Whisky and Donnatello set to gather supplies and organise transport while Veiraen goes with Eridol to the large central temple in the city for Eridol to ask for guidance from his god as to where they should travel first. The Travel trio organise a lush carriage for the group with horses to pull it before coming across a travelling salesman the group had recently encountered and somehow charmed into liking us. Mentioning that he could teleport us to either location if we really needed but it would be up to us to make our way from there. Meanwhile at the large central church in the city Eridol tries and fails to commune with Tyr as Veiraen watches, growing frustrated the cleric asks if Veiraen could step outside and wait for a second as he begins another self pitying attempt to garner the gods attention, talking about how he is lost and needs guidance … he needs orders to server Tyr better. The room goes dark as Eridol finds himself in a misty void very similar to the one he found himself in earlier that day, the only light source being an immensely large, bright blue eye. As it slowly turns to focus on the small cleric, wisps of smoke begin to rise from the ground and form into several humanoid shapes. Before Eridol stands ghostly visions of his old military scouting platoon, they stand perfectly still, like a moment paused in time before turning towards Eridol and the very air itself shakes as an all encompassing voice shouts “YOU DISHONOUR THEM” The figures reach out pleadingly for Eridol as spectral gauntleted hands reach up and drag them down into the fog. The light begins to change to a sickly green as the figures are consumed and Eridol falls to his knees clutching his side, a familiar burning sensation tracing its way across his abdomen. Eridol sees flashes of the people he’s failed, of his home, of his family before he is back in the small church room, a worried drow rogue standing over him looking at the very clear unholy symbol of Bane branded into his side. Eridol heals the wound to the best of his abilities and asks that Veiraen not tell the others about this, not yet anyway. Veiraen, disappointed that Eridol is still so unwilling to trust him and the group, agrees not to say anything for now and they leave to catch up with everyone. With everyone back together and the obligatory showing off of the fancy new fantasy campervan the group sits down and Eridol mentions that he’s changed his mind and thinks they should go to the religious archives in Falthresh and that there’s definitely nothing that happened to influence his decision. After several pokes and prods from Whisky and Septima, Eridol mentions the vision he saw in the church and knowing that he would be physically unable to answer any questions on his own about what it represented, decides to cast zone of truth on himself and the deluge of secrets come out. He shamefully tells the group about his time in the military, his bonds with the platoon members, the cultists who ambushed them, the dungeon under the mountain they ended up in, the torture he endured at thehands of a so called Scholar until he broke, the despicable acts he did under their influence that earned him a heretics brand, the rescue by clerics of Tyr and not knowing what became of his found family, his abandoning the military, abandoning Sutha, his fiance and his family and his begging to the gods for strength to stop anyone else from following in his footsteps, the possible fate that awaits him once they begin travelling and that he is trying to do better, but he understands if they can’t forgive his past. The silence that follows is broken eventually by Whisky asking if anyone else needs a drink after that and that they’ve got a long day of teleporting half a world away to look forward to tomorrow. The group wakes early the next morning in several different shades of hungover and makes their way outside the city to the temporary camp of their travelling salesman companion and after an impromptu shopping session that nets the group several enchanted items, the destination is set, an oasis a couple miles out from the Falthreshian border crossing to avoid any military presence at the border and to avoid questions about why a carriage of heavily armed individuals is just appearing within the country. The salesman mutters some things as he does the mental math for the teleportation circle before very confidently rubbing out one of the glyphs and replacing it with a slight variation. The smell of chalk dust and ozone fill the air as the magic sparks to life and everyone boards the carriage and trundles through the gateway. It takes several seconds for the spots in their eyes to clear and see not a small, little oasis in the dunes but a mountain looming above them, gnarled and sinister trees surrounding the group on all sides and Eridol’s gut drops. He realises he is infinitely familiar with this mountain and the secrets held beneath it, everyone sees the panic and fear setting in on their small friends face as he wildly takes control of the carriage and begins rocketing in any direction away from it. The carriage narrowly missing trees and ditches large enough to bury a horse, until they don’t and several group members are launched forward into boulders and fallen trees and under one particularly angry coach horse with a broken leg. In the minutes it takes them to untangle themselves from the woods and heal the horse they hear a loud inhumane screeching come from above and a voice in their heads “Scholar Al-Halrazi sends his regards” as a giant demonic entity bashes its way into the camp, throwing an already injured Eridol closer towards death. A swift and brutal battle ensues before the creature falls and disappears in a violent explosion of sulfur and soot. Their victory is short lived as a flash of lightning illuminates the countless unnatural forms from within the clouds as dozens of Vrocks begin diving towards the group, intent on taking their prizes and Eridol does something he desperately does not want to do, he calls for his mother, telling her about the demons on their tail and hoping she can gather whatever help they can and intercept them outside his hometown of Brightbattern. Without waiting for an answer, everyone piles back into the carriage and continues their panicked descent trying to dodge divots and demons alike, hoping and praying that their message didn’t fall on deaf ears.