What has gone before #13
Hotherial was not shy about outfitting the party. During the trip on the Granessian, Hotherial made them a gift of several healing salves and potions, a cure disease scroll, a read/speak languages at 60% for one hour scroll, a helm of invisibility / hide magic with four charges, and a wind/rain shield wand with sixteen charges. Many of the items were supposed to be used for scouting Veskavar's palace when the group reached Smagean. As the elven ship passed the Kubera river that divided Tawhiem from the Evael forest, the party was sent on their way in three elven long boats with magical propulsion. The boats, looking like long canoes, made slow but steady progress up river at about five miles a day. In the meantime, Hotherial and the Granessian continued on to the elvish trading port on the island off the coast of Evael where the Urdu river exited the forest. Guido went with them, hopeful that Hotherial would be able to restore his memory.

The Kubera
The trip up the Kubera river was eventful. The Kubera undulated though low, boggy swamps that reeked of decay. Clouds of annoying, bitting insects filled the air. During the evening of the first day, the party was attacked by a group of giant frogs with poisonous tongues. The frogs were repelled with little damage to the party. Two nights later, a strange black ooze attacked. This was a more serious encounter, and Templar was on the verge of death at the end. Healing salves barely managed to bring him back from the brink. Templar was shaken when he finally regained consciousness. He did not speak of it, but remembered a feeling of falling down a long, black tunnel while something mat was more than a man but less than human laughed, crying out "you are mine, mortal!" He felt a terrible pull from the maw of the tunnel, and then suddenly an equally strong pull from the other direction. He felt torn apart, then remembered nothing until he finally woke up among his friends. He felt he had barely avoided a fate that was truly worse than death.

On the fourth day of moving up river, the boats passed under the remains of a black, stone bridge. Templar recognized the architecture as pre-fall; more than likely it was a part of the old ring road that still existed in places around the circumference of the Lanotalis sea. The center of the bridge was gone, the jagged edges on both sides of the river time worn from countless years of rain and wind. What ever had destroyed this engineering marvel had happened a long time ago. Rocky shivered as they passed the ruins. Shadows of what might have been men were burnt into the rock sides of the bridge, shadows that seemed almost to turn and watch them as they slowly pulled away up the river. It was eerie, but nothing remarkable happened, and they left the bridge behind.

On the fifth day, they saw the beginnings of grass and higher, dry spots along the river banks. Ahead, the ground could be seen to rise. Everyone was instilled with a feverish desire to be rid of the swamp, and oars dug deeply into the water as the party frantically tried to assist the magical propulsion of the boat with their own efforts. Excitement rose higher and higher, until the need for clean, solid ground overwhelmed every other thought. Rocky felt a sudden, wrenching release of this pressure as his obsession was somehow funnelled though the amulet he wore. He was not sure what he had done, but he knew something had happened. Ziwa was also aware that something was amiss thanks to a sharp and painful jolt from Facinalethvree, her sword, but had no idea what had caused it. None the less, she kept a careful eye on the surrounding area, and was therefore the first one to spot four dark figures approaching the boats rapidly from behind, floating effortlessly over the waters of the Kubera.

People prepped spells, readied weapons, but did nothing hostile as the four figures grew closer. Dark robes shuddered in the wind, wrapped around something that could not be seen. A vague impression of red, glowing coals where eyes should be gave the only indication of an alert entity within. The first figure spoke in a dry, sibilant hiss that sounded of age and death "You have called us!" It cried. The second figure joined in "Yes! You have called us! Set us on our task!" "Set us on our task that we may finally be free! "added the third. "Free! Free at last!" finished the fourth. "Free!" the first one began again, "The guardians of the bridge shall be free". "Yes!" cried the next, "after guarding against the Chen Kunda for lo these many years, we shall be free!" "Free!" joined in the third, "We, who died protecting the bridge from the fierce Chen Kunda, finally our spirits may be released!" "Yes!" shouted the fourth, "our spirits, locked here for so long after the death of our bodies, our spirits will finally be free!"

Legum looked around. Rocky would not meet his eyes. "Rocky? Do you know something about this?" asked Legum in a strained voice.

"No... well, maybe... well, yes, I guess" replied Rocky, hesitantly. He described his feeling that his need to be free of the swamp had somehow triggered something in the amulet. Legum listened, disturbed once again with the apparent power of the artifact that Rocky wore. Raising Urakai from the dead to do his bidding had seemed like magic a little too much on the black end of the spectrum for Legum's tastes, even if it only lasted for a few minutes. Now this had happened. Legum made a mental note to try to find out more about this strange amulet when they were back in Kethem. For now, he would have to drop it. Rocky had made it clear that he would not part with the magic item in the past.

A short discussion ensued while the figures continued to moan, their cries for a task becoming more and more whiny as time went on. "If we do task them with something," said Galrog, "and they are freed, then what? Are we loosing a curse on the world?" There was only one way to find out. Rocky was given the honor of giving the four undead a tasking since it was apparently his fault. "Go, find the King of Kanday, and kill him!" Rocky cried. A personal matter, perhaps, but the death of the King of Kanday would make his survival much more likely, the assassins set on his tail when he had killed the King's grandson reassigned to other tasks by the new King.

"Kill!" yelled one figure joyfully. "Yes! Kill the King!" cried a second. "The King! The King of Kanday!" joined the third. The four figures drifted off, occasional cries of "Kill! Kill the King of Kanday!" wafting back on the wind. A few minutes latter, the figures returned. Rocky waited for them.

"Ahhhh...who is the King of Kanday?" asked the first black figure in an embarrassed tone of voice. Rocky gave them a fast description of the Kingdom of Kanday and where the King might be found. The figures zoomed off again, once again crying out for the death of the King of Kanday joyfully. A half hour later, the figures were spotted approaching once again.

"We cannot leave an area more than fifteen miles from the bridge" explained the first dark figure apologetically. "Sorry. You must give us another task". "Yes!" cried the second. "Another task that we may be free". "Yes!" cried the third, "A task that...."

"SHUT UP!" yelled Rocky, interrupting. Another discussion between the party followed, and an idea began to form. The figures were ordered to search the entire area around the bridge. Any artificial object, gold or jewels found were to be extracted from the swamp and placed in a special cache the party set up. It was hoped that at least some of the things thus recovered might be powerful Chen Kunda magic. The dark figures, clearly somewhat unhappy with this new, long term task, finally moved off to comply.

A short time later, the three long boats broke free of the swamp. On the Tawhiem bank of the river, a large group of people could be seen. As the boats grew closer, the party could make out the figures of two elves and many Kirandir tribesmen. The bloodfeud between the Kirandir and Kethem people was apparently on hold because of the influence of the elves, and the Kirandir acted peacefully if somewhat aloofly.

The elves were Brogart and Plellelan, both old acquaintances of the party. Brogart was his normal, surly self, but Plellelan warmly welcomed them. "We are here to speed your journey" he explained. "The Kirandir will portage your canoes overland so you may make slightly better time". Everyone agreed, particularly when the smell of slowly simmered beef stew drifted into their nostrils. The rations they had been eating during the five days in the swamp had been filling, but not satisfying. Additionally, Kirandir clerics healed the rest of their wounds, and soon everyone was feeling better than they had in a week.

Hammerhand took Plellelan aside. "Any news of friend Guido?" asked the taciturn troll. He missed his friend terribly after being reunited for such a short period since Guide's restoration from the Chen Kunda preservation fluid.

"All I know is that the treatment is proceeding as planned" replied Plellelan. "There's really nothing to worry about..."

GUIDO
Guido lounged back on the couch. The comfort of the furniture and the apparent relaxation of his pose hid a growing sense of frustration. He had been working with Hotherial for a week, and they had made progress much faster than Hotherial had originally hoped. His treatment was not what bothered him. It was the polite, almost subservient way Hotherial's elvish staff catered to his every desire... and managed to never let him out of their sight. It was the nicest house arrest Guido had ever been under.

He was on the small island off the coast of the Evael, an island known in Kethem only as the Evael trading port. He had found out at least one thing during his time here; the elves called the place "Lentenela Hollen", which he had been told translated as "The place of quiet". It made absolutely no sense to him, since the noise and hustle and bustle of a busy seaport was everywhere.

His session with Hotherial that morning had been unusually successful. There had been that weird sense of deja vue when they had started, the same feeling he had at the beginning of each session that they had done this before, a long time ago. Hotherial had explained it as a side affect of the sessions, but Guido was not completely convinced. This time, unlike the small glimmers of memory that had hit him during the previous week, whole segments of memory flooded back.

He remembered standing with a large group of Hobbits, chanting to Segard. Segard, the ghod of travellers and wanderlust... that came back to him strongly. He was a Segard cleric. In the center of the circle of chanting Hobbits was another group of Hobbits, these outfitted in light leather armour and shortswords, with large, ungainly backpacks strapped to their backs. They smiled and waved as a strange glow enveloped them, the sudden but familiar whistling of wind into the void springing up as they vanished... the memory faded, but was immediately replaced with a new one.

He knew it was some time later. Again, the circle of chanting Hobbits called to Segard, but this time, he was in the center, waiting with about twenty other Hobbits. He was excited; it was his first time through a... a gate of some kind. His excitement hid the details of what he was about to do. The other Hobbits with him were older, somewhat scarred with experiences similar to this one. They were not so cynical, however, that they were not amused and pleased with his attitude. Suddenly light sprung up and...

More time had gone by. He was helping to move some of the supplies they had brought with them from the center of a set of hexagonally arranged black pillars. Most of the Hobbits were grouping together, preparing to march. With them was a heavily armored humanoid, not much taller than the Hobbits but three times as wide, a huge warhammer strapped to its side. The dwarf moved with apparently ease under the weight of full plate mail that would have crushed a Hobbit Guido sensed the urgency in the dwarf, and how it had been communicated to his group. "Not safe" spoke the dwarf in a broken version of common. Guido suddenly realized that back then, common had been very new to him; it was not his native language. He rushed back to grab the last of the supplies, looked up in startlement when a familiar but unexpected light dawned. The pillars were glowing, brighter and brighter... with a flash, he was standing... somewhere else. What had been strange creatures then but now could be recognized as Urakai stood, obviously surprised at his appearance. He was in mountains, on a flat rock ledge outside a huge fortress carved into the rock. A Urakai drew a weapon and lunged. Guido dodged, ran, grasping for his wand. He knew he had too... as the thought came, another Urakai leveled a staff at him and triggered it. Whatever he had been thinking vanished and panic suddenly overwhelmed him. What had happened? Something had changed. He was running... he glanced around. Large, green creatures... Urakai, his current mind supplied again... where chasing him from a flat plain outside a large fortress. He felt confused... hadn't he just seen that before? Why didn't he remember it? How had he gotten here? A Urakai was lowering a staff, laughing. "Easy meat" the Urakai growled in common. Guido turned away, concentrated on running... running from what? He was confused. Something was behind him... Urakai! Urakai! he almost screamed, confusing his present self with his memory self. Thoughts crowded into his head, vanished almost as quickly...

Another time lapse. He was leaning against a building, panting, the sounds of chase distant, who the chasers were lost somewhere in the void in his mind that appeared to be consuming his every memory. He was in the ruins of an ancient city, still in the mountains, but without the vulgar, simple lines of the Urakai buildings. An old place, weather worn and empty, birds flying in and out of windows that took on the appearance of empty sockets in old skulls. The ruins he had woken up in, his current self supplied. This is where his current memories began, waking in this ruin.

The sudden flood of memories stopped, leaving him gasping for breath, looking up into HotheriaTs face. "Don't stop!" he cried, almost weeping in his need to know more. Hotherial shook his head.
"This is as far as we can go now, Guido" he said gently. "These memories were close to the surface. Only time will bring forth others. When you are ready, I can help you to reclaim them, but they are buried too deep for the moment". Guido was bitterly disappointed.

Hotherial had been called away then, some urgency in the voice of the intruding elf. Guido had been left to sit on the couch, attempting vainly to recall more than the memories that had been restored by Hotherial's magic.
He looked around, and suddenly realized that the ever present staff elf who was normally with him was missing. He stood, stretched, wandered down the hallway, hungry for lunch. He passed into a corridor he had not been in before, stopped for a second, feeling guilty, then shrugged. No one said he couldn't wander the hallways. He headed further down the corridor, came to an open doorway, passed through. He was on a balcony, looking down at a scene that shocked him.

Hotherial sat in a wide chair, facing a wall. The wall was covered in lines, runes, a confusion of colors and patterns. They snapped into perspective, and Guido realized he was looking at a map, a map annotated with strange symbols. In front of the huge wall, a group of elves sat, some of them concentrating on gazing into crystal balls, some with the distant look of someone who's consciousness was far, far away. Occasionally, these elves would say something to other elves with wands and staffs, who would gaze at the wall, gesturing, while symbols gyrated into new formations and patterns. A steady stream of elves came in with other information, some delivered to Hotherial, some delivered to the elves that manipulated the map display. In other areas of the room, small groups of elves gazed down into small versions of the map displayed on tables, maps that occasionally would change drastically, then spring back into the same configuration as the larger map on the wall. It was smooth, professional, organized. These people had been doing this for a long time. Suddenly an elf noticed Guido, and he was quickly if politely lead away from the room.

Later, he was brought to Hotherial. As he approached, his keen hearing picked up the conversation between Hotherial and another elf. "...assault on the black ship was a total failure. It must gross twenty thousand tons. There's no way the engine off the Mersinian could be powering that monstrosity, no matter how much they pushed the output. And they've got some serious shielding on the thing, more than we thought Kethem magicians were capable of..." The conversation trailed off as Guido approached.

"Guido" said Hotherial, "I think I must ask you to be somewhat discrete about what you have seen here this week."

Guido nodded. "I owe you, Horn, for what you've done for my memory. Don't sweat it. I can keep it under wraps."

"Good. Thank you" replied Hotherial gravely. "And now, I think our best course of action is to return you to your friends. Before you see anything else that might be a... problem. I'm afraid, however, that you are going to have to make the trip unconscious. We have these rules, I'm afraid, about non-elves seeing the inside of the Evael forest..." Hotherial gestured as he spoke, and Guido felt consciousness fade to black as elves caught him on both sides...

The Kubera
It had been a long two weeks fighting their way up river. The portage had only taken two days, then they were back on the water, gaining ground slowly against the powerful current The day before, they had spotted the first spires of Smagean peeking over the treetops. They would reach the ancient city at the end of this day. Suddenly the long boats began to swerve to the right. The group's attempts to correct the swing did nothing, and the boats began to approach the Evael side of the riverbank. A blind panic began to well up in everyone, but they remembered a previous experience landing in the Evael; the elves had some kind of magic induced terror they used to keep people out of the Evael. Like last time, the panic vanished as the boats actually touched ground, leaving behind only concern about the odd behavior of the ship. Without warning, elves melted out of the brush and trees, almost seeming to appear out of midair. "I am Trenniselan" announced the leader. "Hotherial has sent us to rejoin this one with your party" he continued, gesturing to the side. There stood Guido, looking like someone had just woken him from a deep sleep. Everyone cried out in happiness, and Guido was suddenly surrounded and slapped on the back until he felt he must be bruised. He quickly brought the rest of the party up to speed on his current condition, which dampened the enthusiasm to some extent. Everyone, knowing Hotherial's power, had hoped the Hobbit's memory would be completely restored. Still, they were glad to have Guido back.

They split up from the elves, crossed to the other bank of the river, and proceeded on foot toward the city. It would have looked suspicious to sail into Smagean in elvish boats, regardless of Ziwa's status as a member of the party.

As they entered the town, it looked unchanged from their last visit. Subtle differences began to appear, however, as they moved toward the interior. It was not the buildings or streets that were different; it was the Dragonnewts. Before, small bands of Dragonnewts could be seen roaming the city, small bands that would usually avoid contact with other parties, or so they had been told by Fra Rentec. Now, the Dragonnewts were standing together in formations of one to two hundred, practicing group tactics. They ignored the party at first, continuing with their drilling. The party boldly marched up to the Dragonnewt who seemed to be in command, although it wore no markings of rank that would suggest this. There they demanded to be brought to Veskavar. The Dragonnewt did not speak common, but repeating "Veskavar" several times appeared to give him the message, and the officer called over an escort guard of a dozen others. The party was then escorted into the ancient palace that served as Veskavar's home.

They were lead up the stairs and through the giant double doors to Veskavar's inner chambers. Inside sat a man on a large ornate chair. Supple leather boots, polished light chainmail of expensive design, a solid gold ring on his left hand, longish blond hair, a face that was neither old or young, but held a hint of cruelty; he appeared to be a Kethemer, and the gold ring marked him as one high up in the ranks. Two shadow cats flanked him, lying on their stomachs, looking relaxed but focused on the party with a steady, unblinking gaze. The cats were a surprise; the party had only seen them once, in the ruins of Nostrilia, where they had run for their lives. That, however, was a long time ago.

The man was more of a surprise. Kethemers in general were not wandering in the outbacks of Nol right now, since the Ibisi guides were no longer available to ease the trip through the various tribal lands. The design on his cloak that would have identified his house was not visible to the party. Jake wondered if this was Veskavar, the dragon was a shape-shifter, and no one new the limit of his ability to simulate the outer form of a human. The stranger looked them over casually, any surprise well hidden. His eyes stopped on someone, and suddenly surprise did show on his face. Jake twisted around. The stranger was gazing at Tallow.

"Why Tallow, what a pleasant surprise!" cried out the man, the tone of his voice making a mockery of the words. There was a undercurrent of tension between the two, and Jake saw that Tallow's face had gone pale and his teeth were clenched. Legum realized something was up as well, if for no other reason than the man knowing Tallow's real name. Tallow always used a pseudonym nowadays.

Tallow began moving forward slowly, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. Legum and Jake casually kept pace, unsure of Tallow's current state of mind or his plans. Walking forward broke up the group's formation, and would seriously hamper their ability to respond if a fight broke out, but Tallow's tense face and wire-taut body read of a man who was about to do something violent. "Hello, Pedwar", Tallow said, his voice flat. Jake had heard that name before. A few seconds of rummaging around in his mind supplied the last name, Pythaen, and then the story rushed back into his memory and he gasped. Pedwar was the man who had been cheating with Tallow's wife, the man Tallow had attacked during a sensitive political meeting between Kethem Naval Intelligence and the Kirandir tribe, destroying the negotiations and ruining Tallow's political career. Jake went to grab Tallow, but the shadow cats suddenly stood up, growling. It was enough to make Tallow stop, but he was a man who was clearly on the verge of loosing control.

"Drinks for the guests!" cried Pedwar, snapping his fingers casually. A Dragonnewt brought over small glasses filled with a pungent liquid. Everyone stood tensely as the drinks were served. Pedwar raised his glass, saying "Your health", and drank. Everyone stood for a moment, wondering about poison, but Tallow defiantly swallowed his drink in a single gulp, dropping the empty glass to shatter on the hard stone floor. Pedwar leaned back, ignoring the gesture, and said "interesting friends you've joined up with, Tallow". He glanced at Hammerhand, Guido, and Ziwa. His eyes rested on her for a while, then returned to Tallow. "I can't think of a more diverse group of people I've run into in quite a while".

Tallow just stared back, seething inside.

"Come, come, Tallow" said Pedwar, false amazement in his voice, "You're not still angry about Mia, are you? Believe me, she meant nothing to me, just a one night stand. Nothing you should take personally".
Tallow's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword until the knuckles where white, but made no other move.

Legum, in the meantime, decided to cast a detect magic. It might be interpreted as a hostile move, but this was a less than friendly meeting. It was also clear that Pedwar, for whatever reason, was not currently interested in attacking them, despite his obvious baiting of Tallow. Pedwar was carrying a magic sword, a magic ring, and an assortment of potions, none of any type of magic that was familiar to Legum. Pedwar smiled at the spell, returned it with one of his own. He smile vanished suddenly, and a new wariness appeared in his eyes.

"Yes, interesting friends indeed", he stated quietly. "I'm pretty familiar with standard Kethem and Nol magic branches. I find it hard to believe a party as young as yours could be carrying so much magic, and powerful magic at that, that I cannot identify. Is that in truth an elvish sword you carry, mistress?" he finished, talking to Ziwa.

Anthrax breathed deeply, then let go with the confusion spell he had quietly prepped. He didn't know the history between Tallow and Pedwar, being new to the group, but he could tell an enemy when he saw one, and the detect magic gave Pedwar information that could make a real target of the party.

The spell failed, but Pedwar sprang up with a suddenness that made it obvious his casual airs had been a sham. Pedwar vanished at the same time the shadowcats leaped forward, disappearing in mid stride. Those of the group who had been on the Nostrilia encounter new what to expect, and faced out in a circle, weapons ready. Anthrax, unfortunately, had not been there, and was caught by surprise when one of the beasts appeared directly in front of him, tearing at him with savage teeth. Too amazed to properly defend himself, he fell, throat ripped out by the large cat, beyond the reach of any healing spell. The rest of the party was too busy fighting the other cat and Pedwar, who reappeared on the other side of the party casting battlemagic, to help. The fight was in full fury when a cry that could be felt to the very bones reverberated in the room.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" shouted the fifty foot long reptilian Veskavar, having just landed on the balcony outside the room. He slithered his way in, gazing from person to person.\

Pedwar, completely untouched during the battle, replied nonchalantly. "Just playing around, Vesky. I and Tallow here are old friends".

Veskavar looked down at the bloody body of Anthrax. "You play rather roughly, Pedwar". Veskavar's huge form shrunk down, changing color as it changed shape, and suddenly a middle aged man with an aura of power was standing in the room. "Take out the trash" Veskavar said to one of the dragonnewts from his new form. The dragonnewts unceremoniously grabbed Anthrax's body, hauled it over to the balcony, and cast it over the edge. A splatting sound rose from the street below a few seconds later, and Ziwa turned slightly green.

Veskavar looked over the party carefully. "Well," he said in a dry voice, "not exactly what I expected to find on my return. I remember you all from the last time, when I left you at the Chen Kunda lair. Have you returned with the key to the teleportal to claim your reward?"

Legum shook his head and launched into the explanation the party and Hotherial had agreed upon to lure Veskavar away from the Sheravar gate. He told of the Chen Kunda marching on Tuga gate, and the rumor that they would reach it and possibly activate it in the next week or two. Veskavar asked a few questions, then turned to Pedwar with a raised eyebrow.
"Got me" replied Pedwar to the unasked question. "I heard that Kekamar's son and the Ibisi are marching on Sheravar gate, presumably to destroy it or seal it, if that is even possible. And it seems likely that the only reason for that to occur is if it has been operating recently in a fashion the Ibisi and their god are not happy with. Maybe the Urakai you spoke of are continuing to use the gate, or perhaps the Chen Kunda have reclaimed it despite your destruction of the lair close to the gate."

Veskavar looked thoughtful. "It is not clear what the right course of action is. If I send the dragonnewts to Sheravar gate to face Kekamar by themselves while I check out the Tuga gate, it is likely that they will be crushed. If I do lead them, it may turn out that Kekamar is not marching on the gate. Even if he is, there's no guarantee that the gate key will be in the vicinity, and the Sheravar gate will remain closed to me. I am loath to let Kekamar destroy a gate, but there are others. If the Chen Kunda have the gate key to Tuga gate, and I see no reason for them to march on it if they don't, then my best bet may be to intercept them. But this too is a rumor, and the risk associated with directly assaulting a large number of adult Chen Kunda cannot be overlooked."

Pedwar shrugged. "Can't help you, Vesky. Its your choice."

Veskavar looked at the party. "The Tuga gate it is. If things are not obviously moving in the direction that you suggest, I may still have time to turn my attentions to Sheravar gate. If they are, then I can decide what to do after a fast reconnaissance. If it does turn out that what you are telling me is untrue, by the way, I'll probably eat a few of you."

Legum looked alarmed. "Veskavar, all we're doing is bringing you the news on the grapevine. Since you told us about your desire to get home, we've tried to keep ourears peeled for any news concerning these... gates, as you call them. We don't vouch for the accuracy of the information."

"Perhaps," replied Veskavar coldly, "but the way I see it, a little incentive to be right never hurt. Given that this is what we are going to do, I will carry some of you for the trip. I think I can manage nine."
Pedwar spoke up. "Vesky, I could use a ride to Myshavar gate. Be happy to give you a rest stop, feed you a few cattle for the favor. The cats can find their own way home through shadow."

Veskavar nodded. "Eight of your group then," he said to Legum. "We leave on the morrow". Veskavar snapped his fingers, and some of the dragonnewts escorted the party to another section of the palace to spend the night It seemed unlikely that many would rest comfortably, however. It wasn't every day you deliberately lied to someone who was, for all practical purposes, a god