The Torchbearers

The Beach
Zol, Vult 10

So far you haven’t found much – a few crates of dried food, now as sodden as your boots, and a cask of fine wine meant for some high table, judging from it’s seal. Food is the last thing on your minds, however. There has been no sign of your other companions – no sign of anyone for that matter – just endless, desolate beach.

Yet you refuse to give up. Rummaging through yet more wreckage, Duragilis uncovers a clue – bite marks and a trace of acid on a broken plank. Something was here. Naali and Drudge pick up tracks leading into the jungle. Elrick decides to stay behind and set up camp while the rest of you, though exhausted, trudge on desperately.

Before long you come upon a river that runs roughly over rapids before emptying into the sea. Above its din, Naali picks out a sound towards the shore. “Someone is out there.” She perks up, “They are in trouble!” Fane draws his sword in a rush, “To arms!”

As you draw your weapons, you see the shapes of massive creatures moving toward you through the trees…

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The Fall of The Lantern
Zol, Vult 10

“Land ho!” The excitement is uncontainable. An infectious smile creases Captain Jan’s face as he points out the slight sliver of land on the horizon. The Lantern hums along as the terrain develops in front of you. Lush jungle greets the shoreline and a thick fog hangs heavy in the canopy.

Another call rains down from the crow’s nest, interrupting the view; “Captain! Wings at our tail!” A glance to the north reveals the unmistakable ring of an airship in the distance.

“Pirates?” asks Elrick nervously.

Jan dismisses his question with a laugh. “In the skies? You might run into a dragon up here, or a roc maybe, but pirates no. Airships are still beyond them.” Jan strokes the stubble of his chin as you wait anxiously, the same question plaguing everyone’s mind:

“Who the hell is it, then?”

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Setting Sail
Mol, Vult 9

From the deck of the airship, you watch the sun set on the endless blue horizon. It strikes you as strange that, since The Lantern took flight from Aruldusk, the days have been getting longer, despite the fact that winter is fast approaching.

Your thoughts shift back to the first days of your voyage. With mouths agape you stared out at the unfathomable expanse of gray mist to the east. “Terrifying, isn’t it?” commented Jan. “Seen it a hundred times since The Day of Mourning, and it still scares the elf right out of me!” Not even Kal could manage a weak smile in response to his brother’s musings.

It has been almost a fortnight since the unsettling mist finally edged out of view. With only a short stopover in Sharn to re-supply, you left the mainland of Khorvaire at your backs. Since then, only the occasional white sail of a trade ship has broken the waves of the Thunder Sea below you. Your feet yearn for the feel of solid ground, and your ears ache from the continuous whine of the howling wind.

The Dead-Gray mist over The Mournland still lingers in your consciousness, along with the words of Cardinal Patoria’s letter. Cyre was a powerful country. How could it be reduced to rubble in the blink of an eye? What if it were to happen to Thrane? Or the Shadow Marshes and the Icehorn Mountains?

Most importantly, who or what would do such a thing and why? Your fear mounts into a sense of urgency: you must find the source…and quickly…


Elrick’s Journal Fane’s Journal Naali’s Journal Duragilis’ Journal
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