Braving the Black Coast, the adventurers arrive in the southernmost port of Kush to discover dark forces at work. A bloody raid of cultists leads the party further South than many Hyborian men have ventured. Amidst the carnage is a mysterious scroll in a language which has been dead for centuries.

The Drowning City

Cuana, Tullweim, and Xacksmith arrived in the outpost of Aurik during a prolonged rain. Indeed, it was as if the great drought that covered so much of the northern lands did not reach this far south, and here the rains seemed never to stop. As the tributaries of the River Styx swelled to a bursting point their waters ran white as they picked up speed, their currents and eddies roared with primal fury. The waters continued to rise and the adventurers narrowly entered the main road to the city before the waves flooded over as many took refuge in Khitan-style stilted huts. While much of Aurik rested above the flood plain, many of its roads appeared washed out, and the migratory population had become temporarily besieged by the forces of nature. Amid the buffeting rains, the welcoming glow from a crowded tavern proved irresistible. Foreign prospectors, slaves, traders, and mercenaries gathered, with several bare-fisted skirmishes under way as the men-at-arms entered the smoky confines of the tavern.

Cuana and Xacksmith made the rounds around the alehouse. While the Cimmerian was met with scowls and warnings about his questioning of the Scarlet Hand, the Hyrkanian searched for a fat coin pouch which could be liberated from a drunkards’ belt. Xacksmith found little to pilfer, as the cooped up patrons of the tavern were little more than wanderers and tradesmen spending their last coppers on drinks and shelter from the torrential rains. After the better part of an hour trying to get answers and silver exchanged to loosen tongues about the Scarlet Hand, Cuana learned of a Wadai ruler, High Chief Haza, who dwelt in the Red Citadel. It was believed Haza’s adviser, Quaridan, was the real power behind the throne, and the Scarlet Hand was said to be controlled by the High Chief’s mysterious council. The nervous merchant then directed the Cimmerian to speak with the barkeep, a dour Iranistani named Sharam. Cuana thanked the tradesman and approached the bar with his questions. Sharam asked why the Cimmerian wanted to know of the Scarlet Hand and Cuana responded that the cult had taken something of his, and he would have it back. The barkeep nodded in understanding and reinforced the tales the barbarian had heard of the cult already, but then added a name to the mix, Watabbi.

Apparently, this man Watabbi was the former bodyguard of High Chief Haza, and was exiled from the Wadai tribelands some years ago after questioning Quaridan’s influence over the High Chief. Finding refuge in the walls of Aurik, Watabbi now served as a guide to those brave, or foolish enough to journey into the surrounding jungles. Sharam continued, ‘He confided in me once, when he was particularly drunk, that he had discovered a hidden network of secret passages beneath the ruins on which the Red Citadel was founded. Tell him that I sent you. I am certain he will be willing to help, as he has no love for Quaridan, or his Scarlet Hand.’ Cuana thanked the barkeep and related the information to his companions. It was decided to not waste any time and seek Watabbi out immediately. And so, the adventurers slogged through the flooded, muddy streets to find Watabbi’s hut. As they walked into the torrential rain, the Cimmerian and Hyrkanian noticed a figure in the distance, running down the street away from Sharam’s tavern. The party knew it could just be a citizen of Aurik seeking cover from the downpour, but something suggested a more sinister purpose to the man’s haste. The furtively moving figure was too far away to catch, but his fresh prints were easy to follow in the muddy path. And follow the party did, as the trail led to a gloomy alleyway formed between two deserted hovels.

A feeling of tension ran through Cuana as the party entered the narrow lane. The Cimmerian’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword when 3 Ghanata men emerged to block the opposite entrance. A shallow sound was heard from behind as 4 more Ghanatas barred the path the party had just entered from. Xacksmith cursed in his native tongue, spun around as he drew his arming sword, and drove the point through the gullet of one of the 4 which had flanked him and his companions. Tullweim unsheathed his great blade and severed a second assailant in twain. The Ghanatas closed in around the adventurers, lightning crashed, and the thug’s eyes, teeth, and flashing blades gleamed eerily. Though they out-numbered the 3 men-at-arms, their curved blades were easily parried and dodged by the adventurers. Cuana followed the assailant’s attacks by carving into one of the Ghanatas with a slicing arc of his sword. Leaving the man for dead, the Cimmerian slashed into a second, and then a third. The barbarian was a whirlwind of death to the 3 foes he fought, and only quivering corpses with missing heads and limbs remained around him. Xacksmith flanked one of the last 2 Ghanatas and swung his sword with artistic finesse, opening the thug’s throat. Tullweim used the flat of his blade to bring the final opponent low. Cuana ripped shreds of cloth from the Ghanata corpses and used them to bind and gag the unconscious man. Wiping their blades clean, the party decided to continue on to speak with Watabbi.

The rain poured down in a deluge and the streets were flooded with 2 feet of water as the adventurers approached Watabbi’s hut with the bound Ghanatan being drug behind. A short, stocky, middle aged native answered the party’s call with venomous annoyance at being woken in the middle of a dark and stormy night. The man gazed hard at the 3 men standing in his darkened doorway and asked, in a number of tongues, if they were in need of a guide through the jungle. When Xacksmith made their real purpose known, the Wadai man demanded the men-at-arms leave. The native was quit adamant about ridding himself of the adventurers and was about to slam his door in their face when the Hyrkanian mentioned that Sharam had sent them. The Wadai’s tone changed, he confirmed he was indeed Watabbi and he suggested the party meet him later, where it was safe. He told the party to meet him at noon in the market square, though he did not explain why before closing his door.

Cuana suggested they take the Ghanata back to the alley they’d killed his fellow assailants in to glean whatever information the thug knew. After awakening the man by splashing water onto the thug, the barbarian asked his questions, but the bound man simply glowered back. The Cimmerian did not speak any tongue the Ghanata man spoke, and the barbarian shook the man thinking he was simply stone-walling. The thug spat in Cuana’s face, which caused the Cimmerian’s eyes to narrow in a frenzied rage. Without a word the barbarian lifted the bound Ghanata by his legs, and brutally dashed the man’s head against a wall until the smashed orb lolled limply on a broken neck. Tullweim and Xacksmith simply gaped at one another, then shrugged and suggested they get back to Sharam’s tavern to sleep out of the rain. The Iranistani charged a single piece of silver for each of the party to spend what was left of the night in the tavern’s common room. Despite the seeming tranquility of the tavern, with those patrons remaining either snoring in the corners of the common room or having packed and left for a hovel of their own, it was decided to keep watch. Cuana would keep his eyes open first, Tullweim would take over, and Xacksmith was fortunate the party did not need a third watch with the few scant hours remaining before dawn. Whether because of the precautions taken, or having no foes left, the rest of the night passed uneventfully.

Killing Time in Aurik

Noon, in the marketplace of Aurik, brought out a small crowd of merchants, peddlers and customers, despite the continuing rain. Unlike other quarters of the town, the market was built on an elevated platform of crumbling stone that was once a great coliseum. The platform was high enough to keep the markets safely away from the persistent flood waters. Watabbi was found eating grapes and figs from one of the market stalls. When he saw the party approach, he motioned them out of the rain and under the cover of an abandoned awning. There, he sat down and invited the men-at-arms to sit with him. ‘We are safer here,’ he said, motioning to the jabbering traders and hawkers. ‘Where many watch over us. The Scarlet Hand are not so bold as to make a move in such a public place.’ As the adventurers settled down Watabbi got right to the point. ‘You must make me an offer for the information I have. Betraying High Chief Haza, his villainous sorcerer or the Scarlet Hand is certain death for me. Why would I help you?’

After relating their tales from Zabhela to Atlaia truthfully, Watabbi seemed more willing to help the fearless party who had, already, braved so much savagery and mummery. The Wadai man explained that there was a hidden way into the citadel, a passage built into the ancient ruins that later architects were unaware of as they rebuilt the citadel’s defenses. It opened out into the heart of the citadel, bypassing all of the guarded outer walls and the inner compound. It was the safest means of entry and Watabbi’s only fear of the tunnel was that it was said to be haunted, though he had never encountered any of the ghosts that supposedly prowled the dark passages. He concluded his story saying if the party was willing to brave that path, Watabbi would happily lead them to the Red Citadel.

Into the Jungle

Watabbi suggested the adventurers gather whatever supplies and trappings they needed and meet him on the southern outskirts of Aurik as soon as they were ready to leave. When everybody had arrived he led the party into the primeval forest. The overgrown underbrush and monsoon weather made the jungle trails treacherous and the guide cautioned the men-at-arms not to wander from the path as they headed into even thicker bush where the chattering calls of unseen creatures came from all sides. During their passage, Watabbi took countless precautions to cover the men’s scent and from being noticed by predators. The guide told of the troupe having about 30 miles of unrelenting wilderness and undulating terrain to cover before reaching their goal and estimated it would take 3 days of travel to push through it all. Cuana and Tullweim agreed to press more swiftly through the jungle and make the trip in 2 days, despite Watabbi’s warnings of attracting attention from the native beasts.

After a hard half day’s trek the adventurers stumbled across the crumbling ruins of some ancient city, part of some once grand, and now forgotten empire. Those ruins showed their great age with the jade green color of the mortars still standing, looking as if nature itself had claimed it, with crumpled walls mingling with jungle creepers and vines. In places, it was impossible to tell where the ruins ended and the bush began. Amid great pools of collected, still, water from the recent rains; Xacksmith noticed several leaning structures, which would provide as resting areas for the night. Cuana suggested they search the area, in case some creature used the ruins as a habitat. As the Cimmerian stared into one of the weathered edifices, impressed with the vast size of the ruins, he uncovered an effigy of a leonine-headed creature, doubtless a revered symbol to the builders of that place. But nothing about the statues seemed suspect, and the barbarian left the artifacts to stand as they had for centuries. With no threat exposed, the party decided to set up watches and rest.

Xacksmith was on watch, his arming sword in hand as he listened to the rhythmic falling of the rain. Lightning flashed, and the Hyrkanian thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, the darkness was pierced by another crash of charged electricity, which revealed a towering horror in the ruins’ entry. A lumbering ape, with matted grey fur and a vicious pair of tusks, charged Xacksmith, washing its ivory crimson with the Hyrkanian’s blood. The Hyrkanian cried out as he set himself in a defensive stance, but could not dodge the wicked claws which ripped viciously into Xacksmith’s hide, and the great beast grappled the borderer with primal arms the size of tree trunks. 2 more grey apes revealed themselves, each goring the sleeping figures of Cuana and Tullweim. The Cimmerian awoke to agony from the tusk which ripped into his flesh. Cuana instinctively grasped his Akbitanan greatsword, bringing the blade down with brutal ferocity and then following the attack with a rending back swing. Tullweim too awoke violently, with his barbaric instinct bringing his blade to the creature which attacked him in 2 arcing slices.

The Hyrkanian struggled in vain to break the grapple the grey ape held him with, as the beast pinned Xacksmith in its crushing thews. The second tusked ape again slammed its head into the Cimmerian, ripping an anguished cry out of Cuana. The third ape slashed at Tullweim with 2 pairs of claws the size of daggers. The loathsome creature then wrapped its mighty arms around the Aesir’s chest. The Cimmerian turned his attention from the feral beast attacking him to the one squeezing the life out of Xacksmith, and drove his blade to the hilt into the ape, wringing a strangled cry from the monster. Unable to use his greatsword, Tullweim dropped the blade, drew the Ghanata knife taken from a previous fight, and plunged it into the ape, drawing a scarlet swath in the grey fur. Now freed, the Hyrkanian slunk away from the battle, wheezing as he held his aching side. The beast Tullweim wrestled with, tightened its grip on the Aesir, pinning him amidst its massive limbs in a vice-like embrace. The ape Cuana had ignored, rushed past the Cimmerian towards the wounded Xacksmith. Cuana slashed the beast as it passed him, but could not stop the grey ape from raking its claws on the Hyrkanian and gathering him towards its gaping maw.

The flurry of combat caused a portion of the ruins’ ceiling to fall, slamming down amidst the Cimmerian, who deftly dodged the falling debris. Cuana then leapt towards the ravenous creature holding Xacksmith, bellowed a furious war cry, and separated the apes tusked crown from its mammoth body. The Aesir pressed his knees into the monster who held him, and pushed his thews to their limits, successfully breaking out of the apes crushing grip. The Hyrkanian tumbled towards the last ape standing and struck a glancing blow with his arming sword. The enraged beast missed Tullweim with its first claw, then sunk its second deep into the Nordheimer’s shoulder. Cuana shook off more falling stone, then split the last apes skull straight between its tusks. As the creature fell with a thunderous crash, Wattabi crawled from behind the rocks he had hid behind, and cheered at the adventurers’ victory. The Wadai man then helped tend the party’s many lacerated and bruised limbs.

The Secret Entrance

Wattabi told Cuana, Tullweim, and Xacksmith that the entrance to the hidden passage into the Red Citadel was located some distance outside of Bzambei. The description given was that of a shrine to strange leonine gods of the forgotten city atop which the citadel now rested. The Waddai exile then said, ‘Your passage to the shrine may be flooded due to the rain and the nearby river. Once inside, you will need to look for the third statue on the right, a lion-headed woman brandishing two sickles. At the feet of the statue is a hole through which is the catch that holds the shrine’s door shut.’ The guide continued, ‘Once the catch is released the statue can be pushed aside, revealing a narrow staircase going down. This passage will lead you directly into the citadel. But you must always move forward. Never deviate, it is a maze down there,’ Watabbi asserted. ‘You will never be seen again if you choose to explore it.’

The journey to the shrine was not long. About two miles from Bzambei’s walls, close to the banks of the river laid the crumbling ruin of which Wattabi spoke. The river had indeed burst its banks, as Wattabi had feared, and 100 feet from the temple the flood waters became more difficult to wade through as they rose above waist level. The exiled Waddai pointed out the entrance, then told the party he would pray the cost they’d pay for finding what they sought would not be too high, and turned to leave. The adventurers had to swim to progress the rest of the way without being knocked over by the current. Inside the shine’s walls, the current abated, but the structure was completely flooded and the party plodded around chest deep in the water. The temple itself was 50 feet wide, 60 feet long, and had a partially crumbling ceiling held up by a dozen pillars to the left and right. Three large female statues with leonine heads stood watch on either side of the temple, and the statue opposite the entry had an altar before it which rose from the swirling waters. Tullweim moved towards the statue Wattabi told them of, when a fanged maw burst from the shadowed murk and bit deep into the Aesir’s arm. Tullweim shouted an alarm to his companions when Cuana and Xacksmith noticed 3 more dark shapes moving quickly towards them.

The Cimmerian was within reach of one of the crocodiles which had closed in on him, and despite the difficulty of movement in the water, Cuana’s greatsword struck true. The beast bled freely into the waters as the barbarian followed his first attack with a devastating plunge of his blade, which caved in part of the crocodile’s apex and tore through its lower jaw. Cuana then cleaved into the next closest creature and his sword ripped through the crocodile’s hide like it was paper. The wounded reptile snapped its jaws at the Cimmerian, but the northern man dodged the attack. Tullweim was not so fortunate as 2 crocodiles assaulted him, both raked his flesh in their massive craws, but the Aesir fought furiously to keep them from pulling him under. Tullweim’s weapon splashed violently down, but his worn and battered arms missed their mark. With renewed effort the Nordheimer barbarian viciously pierced 1 of the reptiles with a stabbing motion. Xacksmith attempted to close the distance between himself and his companions, but the current from the river flowing in, as well as the rain pouring from the ruined ceiling made the current too difficult for him to swim through.

Cuana struck a killing blow to the 2nd crocodile which had assaulted him, then walked slowly through the high water to stand with Tullweim. 1 of the crocodiles turned its attention to the Cimmerian, but again the barbarian was able to maneuver away from the reptile’s menacing fangs. The creature before Tullweim snapped at the Aesir drawing fresh strips of ruddy fluid. Tullweim fought to keep his footing, pushed the crocodile away, and swung wildly, again hitting only water. Xacksmith decided to follow Cuana and trudged slowly through the pool towards the beast which faced off with the Aesir. Once there, the Hyrkanian drove his arming sword through the reptile’s left eye, and took a step back as the beast thrashed wildly in its death throes. Cuana assaulted the remaining crocodile with a glancing strike to the beast’s flank. Tullweim followed the Cimmerian’s attack and his blade sliced through the crocodile’s spine with thunderous impact. As no other creature were present to menace them, the Aesir asked Cuana to tend his wounds at the altar. Cuana did not like working at such a structure, but did as he was asked.

After the Aesir’s many cuts were stitched and wrapped by the Cimmerian, Tullweim turned his attention to the lion-headed statue which bore 2 sickles in its stone paws. The Nordheimer was able to find the catch Wattabi had spoken of under the water at the statue’s feet. Remembering the Wadai’s words of a staircase beyond, Tullweim went out into the jungle to locate vines to strap himself with and keep the current of the opened passage from sweeping him down, as well as a large branch he could use to open the lock. After he lashed himself to the pillar before the statue, Tullweim pushed the branch into the hole at the base of the ancient figure and turned it. He immediately heard a loud click, and then he pushed on the statue until it slid open, revealing the route beyond as a tumultuous surge of water flooded down into the darkness.

Cuana and Xacksmith moved with the water to the pillar Tullweim was lashed to. They each took hold of the vines the Aesir was tied with, removed it from the post, and wrapped it around their waists. Tullweim was in the lead, Xacksmith with a lit torch in the middle, and Cuana at the rear. Inside, the hidden passage led down a short staircase for 15 feet, then changed to a smooth, gently sloping path of carved red stone. As the adventurers entered the descending path they felt a strange chill in the air, and suddenly got a prickling sensation along the napes of their necks. They pressed forward through the water with Wattabi’s tales of haunted lanes preying on their nerves. The tunnel hooked to the right slightly, and as the party moved down its length it undulated, like the curves of a snake, making visibility ahead and behind somewhat limited. Every 30 feet or so, a side passage appeared on one side or the other. A loud splash in the moving current was heard shortly after passing one of those side routes, but the adventurers chose not to alter their course and pushed on through the murk. As they traveled further down the black path the men-at-arms began to hear strange, unutterable mutterings of some otherworldly entity. Yet this blasphemous cacophony was not heard with their ears but was unnervingly felt within their very minds. Maddening gibberings filled the partys’ thoughts as they felt that something inhuman stalked among them.

Xacksmith swung the torch behind the party, back to the path they had come from, then before a side passage, revealing an oozing filth smeared along part of the wall. But other than the slime, nothing unusual in the flooded passage was seen, and again the adventurers heeded Wattabi’s direction to not deter from their route. The ominous path before them, with no sign of what was muttering the deranged discord, the party trudged on. The cackling mumblings had increased to a deafening pitch when the main passage ended in a three-way junction, with no obvious means of determining which way to go. As the adventurers shouted over the mindless jangle of gibbering filth, a fiery breath erupted from an unseen adversary, engulfing the Hyrkanian in white-hot agony. Cuana overcame the terror of the unknown which threatened to overtake him as his fury rose in a mist of crimson, he drew his greatsword and charged the invisible attacker, striking naught but open air. It was only instinct that allowed the Cimmerian to pantherishly dodge the licking flames which erupted from the black air.

The Hyrkanian’s torch could not reveal where their ethereal assailant spewed flames from, and coupled with the unending defilement which broiled their minds, Xacksmith and Tullweim struck nothing but water and rock. Fighting through the shroud of blasphemous torments, Cuana steadied his blade and brought it down in an arcing slice of fury. The Cimmerian’s great blade again carved through a gelatinous mass which sprayed the passage walls with phosphorous sludge. The creature let loose with a fiery blast which charred Cuana’s right arm. Xacksmith missed with a sweep of his arming sword, but a 2nd attack plunged near where Cuana had wounded the beast struck true. Tullweim was not so fortunate as every quivering swing clanged fruitlessly against the sides of the lane. The Cimmerian’s iron will allowed him to ignore the gibberings assaulting him and he swung twice in a frenzy. Both slashes ripped into the oozing filth and the hidden horror fell to the water with a heavy splash. Not wanting to linger, the party neglected their wounds and followed the path to the left which led to stairs up.

The Red Citadel
The adventurers pushed open another hinged statue as they rose out of the floor into a circular building. Tullweim guessed they were in a temple as his eyes narrowed upon a curious shrine to unnameable gods. Fortunately for the party, the temple was not occupied by man, beast, or god, and nothing stopped them from reaching the door to the courtyard. The outer compound was an open area between the walls and the citadel in the center. Several simple structures surrounded the citadel, likely serving as food storage, stables, servants’ quarters and barracks for the outer defense. Only a small contingent of armed soldiers patrolled the empty lanes as most men sought shelter from the rain. The adventurers timed their passing for when the patrol was opposite them.

They found the citadel to be an open complex, a building in which the interior of the structure led to a grand courtyard. There they found a lush garden of local and imported plants, a fresh water fountain built around the restored statues of the ancient city, and numerous pleasant garden paths through which guests could travel. A number of women were seen to be relaxing in the courtyard, beneath an enclosed gazebo, meditating upon the weather. Four armed men guarded these women. Two double staircases along the inner walls from the courtyard led up to a second floor. On the south wall of the courtyard was an entrance to what appeared to be a garrison. To the west and east of the courtyards were open columned passageways that featured such extravagant niceties as a disused fountain, guest quarters and dining rooms for the servants and guards.

With a nod to his companions, Xacksmith drew his Hyrkanian bow and fired 2 arrows, piercing one of the guards twice. Cuana rushed towards the armed men, hoping to reach them before any alarm could be called out. The Cimmerian was not quick enough as the wounded guard cried out for all to hear as he frothed with a fighting madness and thrust his spear at the barbarian, who turned the stick to the side with his greatsword. A second guard’s face similarly filled with bloodlust and his spear was driven deep into Cuana. The 2 remaining guards’ thrusts were deftly dodged by the barbarian as Tullweim entered the fray with a leaping charge. But neither of the Aesir’s slashes met flesh as they were parried harmlessly away. The Hyrkanian took aim with his bow and let loose 3 arrows. One went wide of the melee, the other 2 snapped into the same guard Xacksmith had wounded before and the Wadai fell to his knees with a strangled cry. Cuana opened up a guard’s gullet with a vicious swipe, cleaved into another with a tremendous blow to the Wadai’s side, left the wounded guard for dead, and moved with murderous intent towards the last standing foe. The frenzied guard impaled his spear into the Cimmerian’s shoulder as he approached, but Cuana would not be stopped as he brought his blade down, splitting the Wadai’s head like a ripe melon. The only living guard tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of scarlet on the gazebo’s floor, and before the shuddering women who looked on in terror, the Cimmerian thrust his sword into the prone Wadai man’s neck.

The adventurers ignored the quivering women and made their way up the stairs near the gazebo. As they reached a set of double doors, the passage was opened from within and 6 Wadai men stood with their spears trained at the partys’ chests. Cuana and Tullweim leveled their swords at the men, but Xacksmith stopped them as he shouted into the room in the Ghanatan tongue. The Hyrkanian insisted his men be given an audience with High Chief Haza lest more unnecessary bloodshed take place. The guests in the room muttered nervously as their cups had been filled many times that day and they doubted the guards in the room could stop the fearsome warriors outside from entering. A Zamoran man stepped forward and questioned why the intruders should not simply be slain where they stood. Xacksmith told the outlander to still his tongue as the words he had were not to be wasted on the likes of him, and he would only answer to the most esteemed High Chief.

The Zamoran was about to shout for the guards to murder the flippant Hyrkanian when Haza stood up and said the men could enter and say their piece should they sheathe their weapons and give their word no attack was forthcoming. Xacksmith agreed, told his sword brothers to put their weapons away, then boldly strode into the chamber. Cuana and Tullweim did not understand the exchange between the Hyrkanian and the men inside the chamber, but trusting Xacksmith they returned their weapons to their sides and entered. The guards relaxed their spears but all 10 Wadai warriors in the room flanked the 3 men who had gained an audience with their High Chief in a manner no other had ever attempted. Haza insisted the adventurers state plainly why they had disturbed his evening meal. Xacksmith spoke of their quest to recover a sacred relic which had been stolen by Kophethu, whom they believed worked for the High Chief. Haza turned to the Zamoran and told the man called Quaridan to answer Xacksmith, which the Zamoran grudgingly did.

Quaridan shared with the party the tale of a caravan headed to Bzambei from the north which did, indeed, have Kophethu attached to it, but recent reports indicated the caravan was raided by rebellious Wadai warriors seeking to overthrow the High Chief, and all members of the caravan were either slain or taken to Garundi, to the west. ‘Two days past,’ Quaridan explained, ‘rebellious Wadai messengers from Garundi came with their threats. They told us that the survivors of their raid would only be released in exchange for Wadai slaves held in Aurik. His most divine High Chief was unconcerned by the loss of this caravan or the idle threats of upstarts, of course, thus he had the rebel messengers subdued and sent to the prison tower.’ Xacksmith turned to the throne and asked his most austere highness, The High Chief, if they could be taken to question the prisoners about the relic they sought. Haza said that could wait until later, and the adventurers looked as if they were famished and their many wounds in need of attention. The High Chief called an end to the court and asked the party to join him for dinner in another chamber. Quaridan scowled but relented to Haza’s words. Xacksmith accepted the invitation and followed the High Chief and his bodyguards out of the room.

As they walked, Haza asked what the relic taken from them was. Xacksmith explained it was a scepter from a fallen king. The High Chief wanted to know more about this scepter, and why it seemed so important for these men of battle to have braved so much to retrieve it. The Hyrkanian explained they had traveled from Zabhela to win the relic and would travel to hell if required to get it. Xacksmith then requested they be allowed to speak to the prisoners before dining. Haza nodded in agreement and they were led to the prison tower, a squat, solid affair with no windows and only once entrance. Up 3 floors the adventurers traveled, seeing many cells with political rivals, would-be assassins, and some men whose reason for incarceration had been forgotten. When they arrived to the third floor, a guard who wore a key which hung from a string round his neck unlocked the door and allowed the party to enter.

3 battered and beaten Wadai men looked up apprehensively as Xacksmith walked into the room with authority and demanded to know who the mens’ leader was. An older man stood up and said it was he who had led the Wadai messengers into the Red Citadel to give the rebels’ charge to Haza. The Hyrkanian asked the man’s name and the Wadai responded that he was called Runhab. Xacksmith ordered Runhab to tell of the raid on High Chief Haza’s caravan and the Wadai refused to speak. The borderer motioned to his 2 large companions and threatened that the prisoners would not see another day if they refused to give up the information required, the Hyrkanian followed the statement up with a whispered promise that he would speak with Haza and get better food and bedding brought to the prisoners, as well as have their wounds looked after. Runhab looked defiant still, but he softened his tone upon reflection of the other men imprisoned with him. Then the Wadai messenger told his tale.

He spoke of his leader, the chieftain Kulbahath, and how they were but a handful of warriors a few weeks ago, standing against Quaridan’s slavers. They raided a caravan from the north and took many foreigners hostage. Among the foreigners they found a beautiful scepter, cast of silver and gold. It called to the chieftain, and when Kulbahath picked it up, he said it spoke to him, and told him what must be done. He began to journey from village to village, tribe to tribe, telling the Wadai that Quaridan’s hold over their High Chief and his slaving raids must end. He called upon all able warriors to gather at Garundi, the Wadai holy place, to create an army to wipe the influence of the white man from Wadai lands. The elders of the community urged peaceful solutions first, and so Kulbahath bade Runhab go to Bzambei and offer the release of prisoners in exchange for the cessation of Scarlet Hand raids. The High Chief, under advice from Quaridan, locked them away as traitors and usurpers.

Satisfied, Xacksmith thanked Runhab for the information and stepped out of the cell. The adventurers walked with High Chief Haza and his bodyguards to the royal dining hall. Women waited with prepared foods and jugs of wine. After pleasantries were exchanged between the party and the High Chief, Haza offered the men-at-arms a large chest of ancient gold coins if they would seek out the Wadai rebels and retrieve the scepter for him. When Xacksmith stated he knew a cabal called the Scarlet Hand was involved and wondered if the Chief knew of it. Haza explained that he had also heard tales of the Scarlet Hand, and was sure they were very dangerous, but said beyond tall tales, he knew nothing of the hidden cult. When the Hyrkanian then asked why the High Chief wanted the scepter, Haza replied that he believed the scepter held power, possibly enough to throw down the rebels and destroy the Scarlet Hand forever. Xacksmith agreed to the High Chief’s offer, but only if Haza would see that the Wadai prisoners were fed and healers sent to soothe their aches. The High Chief was incredulous at first, but with the thought of willing agents acquiring a sacred relic at the table, relented to the Hyrkanian’s request.

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