18 Flocktime, 592 CY

The next morning, after residual wounds were tended, the company members set themselves to a number of different tasks. Ashton and Greyjek examined the cage in the safety of the Silver Phoenix House. It radiated strong abjuration, conjuration, and necromancy magic (as well as strong evil, according to Jarvyk). The silver and grey bars of the cage twisted in on themselves in strange and disturbing patterns. The necromancer and the erudite recognized that the cage had some association with Carceri. Bransen overheard this and commented, “Wasn’t the mark on that fella Zenith Splintershield’s forehead somethin’ ta do with Carceri, too?” The others agreed that it was.

So informed, Ashton made his way to the Bluecrater Academy and attempted to glean more answers based on the information revealed in the letter from F. Abradius to the apparent Cagewright Embril Aloustinai. History, however, was not one of his focused areas of study, and he made little headway through the musty tomes. Kort, after locking Karamus’ things in his room, decided to do what he did best and visit every establishment that served alcohol in the city, so that he might consume some of it. Bransen and Jarvyk dealt with selling the items acquired from their most recent endeavors, and Greyjek… did whatever it was that he tended to do with his time when left to his own devices.

After the sales were complete, Bransen went out to the streets again, trying to determine what, if any, fallout would be coming down on the party’s head for their actions at the cathedral. The consensus seemed to be, “They got what was coming to them.” He made contact with Annah Taskerhill, the leader of the Stormblades, to ask her what had happened to Todd Vanderboren. She informed him that the young rake had fallen in the Underdark tunnels below Cauldron. They’d been tasked with a mission by Ike Iverson to investigate the possibility of an attack by kuo-toas when they’d been ambushed by a wizard who seemed to know their strengths and weaknesses. In the wake of the assassination attempt and the reception the Silver Phoenixes had gotten from the Church of Wee Jas, she asserted her belief that they, too, had been set up.

Bransen and Jarvyk were both concerned about the fate of Maavu Arlintal. They caught up with Kort who was drinking with Skylar Krewis at the Drunken Morkoth. The young sergeant was telling Kort about Skellerang’s ire after it was announced by the Magical Threats Agency that the letter attributed to Maavu was indeed a forgery. Therefore, despite the unexplained presence of the Tercival signet ring, there was no evidence to support the notion that Maavu was involved in any sort of duplicity. Redgorge was safe, and the merchant was to be released that very afternoon. The “sorcerer” and the paladin decided to make it a point to be there when he was released, to provide him with security, should he need it.

Maavu was grateful to them both for walking him from the garrison, and he was glad to speak with them about what they had learned. He did not recognize any of the names mentioned in the letter confiscated by the Silver Phoenixes, but when they told him about the strange magical cage they’d found, he grew interested. They discussed the possible roles the church of Wee Jas (and particularly Embril Aloustinai and Ike Iverson) had played with the Cagewrights and theorized what might happen next. The merchant suggested to the party that since conventional methods of identification were unlikely to succeed on the cage, that they might employ more powerful magic. With that suggestion, and the promise that he would tap the Chisel to research Karran-Kural and the mysterious Soul Pillars, he bid them farewell.

...

The following days found the Silver Phoenixes waiting around for a number of things to arrive or occur. Kort placed an order at Skie’s Treasury for a magical enhancement for the monocle which he’d been using to camouflage his smoking eye. Jarvyk settled himself in his room to commune with his ancestors in order to enhance Tedryk’s Grace further. Bransen awaited the day for his meeting with Viggor Fehr to arrive. Ashton awaited word from the cartographer he had visited, hoping to discover the location of Karran-Kural from a geographical point of view. The aged proprietor of the shop had promised he would look through his archives, and if he found something, he would make a copy for the wizard. Greyjek convened with Sage, which had grown bored with all of the waiting around. Bransen left for the Lucky Monkey a day before his meeting with Viggor was scheduled to take place.

21 Flocktime, 592 CY

A knock on the Silver Phoenix Company door dragged Kort from his desk, and he went to answer. Standing before him were a woman bedecked in full plate armor and a smaller, unassuming man. Looking over them, he noticed the woman’s eyes didn’t look quite right, and upon further consideration he realized it was because they had no whites. Her eyes were blue on blue, which brought back memories of a friend he’d lost only months before… Asuni. He blinked. She spoke.

“Is this the Silver Phoenix House?”
“Er, aye. Who’re you?”
“I am Ryla Soul Reaper.” Kort blinked again.
“I see. What is it that you want?”
She squinted down into his face and then her eyes widened a bit, “Actually, I was hoping to learn more about that,” she replied, pointing at his left eye.

At this point the man interjected, “Are you Jarvyk Tedryk?” Kort, certain that he was hallucinating after having a bad night of drinking blinked once more.
“Er, no.” Jarvyk, who’d wandered downstairs to see who was at the door stepped forward, “I am Jarvyk Tedryk. Who’s asking?”
“Cyrus Melchior,” the man stated. “Your father sent me to find you.”

The pair were shown into the house and everyone took a seat around the table, except Melchior, who insisted on putting his stuff away. Jarvyk, somewhat mystified, brought the man to his bunk and told him to put his things there. Then he asked him why he had come. Melchior claimed to have been taken captive in the Underdark while on a reconnaissance mission. He’d suffered torture at the hands of vile creatures for a number of years before a contingent of dwarven soldiers had attacked the enclave where he was being kept, killed the monsters, and liberated the slaves. He chose to accompany the dwarves back to Belmek. There, he met Heberron Tedryk, Jarvyk’s father. Heberron explained all about the trouble he’d been having recently and of Jarvyk’s quest to prove the family lineage. Thus, Melchior had sworn an oath to find the son and spur him into completing that quest before his family was utterly ruined. “So, when can we leave?” asked the man.
“Oh, Ah like this one,” uttered Tedryk’s Grace.
“I… I’ll talk to the others,” Jarvyk.

Meanwhile, the woman began her tale. Ryla, it seemed, had been a childhood friend to Asuni, back when they’d both been captured and placed in a concentration camp for the “soul aware.” Like Asuni, she could manipulate the soul energy in martial ways, and she had liberated her home of Pinefalls twice. Their oppressor had been a man who also bore the Smoking Eye. Her investigation into it had lead her to Sasserine, where she had first heard mention of the Silver Phoenixes. She simply wanted to better understand the nature of the Smoking Eye. She claimed to have met Melchior on the way, who’d been seeking Jarvyk Tedryk, also rumored to be in Cauldron, and the two had decided to travel together. “Ay, and I haven’t gotten her to sleep with me yet, so I can’t speak to her character, but she’s got some pretty amazing power,” said Cyrus, as he and Jarvyk rejoined the group.

A courier bearing Kort’s newly enchanted monocle arrived, and he promptly put it over his left eye and uttered the command word. The room was awash with the true natures of everyone in the room.

Ashton Maximus-Devon’s form was superimposed by something sinister and elegant, beautiful and corrupt. He looked vaguely elven, but with haunted, paranoid eyes. Mostly translucent figures stood on either side of him. The first was a hauntingly beautiful woman with sparkling eyes, who seemed on the verge of embracing Ashton. The other was a cold and uncaring, arms crossed standing with its back turned on him. Kort got the sense of great (if disparate) power emanating from each of the figures, and Ashton seemed to be drawing some of it from each.

Standing beside Jarvyk Tedryk, Tedryk’s Grace appeared as a tall, imposing, black-haired dwarf wearing a dubious look compounded by a half-smirk. Jarvyk’s visage was superimposed by a much grander version of himself, with the image of Clangeddin’s Twin Axes emblazoned on his armor. However, he seemed almost more translucent than the figure of his ancestor standing beside him. A spark gleamed inside of him that hinted at greatness that had not yet flared.

Ryla Soul Reaper was surrounded by what appeared to be miniature spirits. They circled her, supported her, and passed through her, seeming to react to her shifts in posture. They seemed as servants awaiting her will to direct them in some way.

Greyjek, the Woosah was not human. He appeared human, certainly, but the gleaming power in his mind that he shaped to accomplish fantastic things made it evident that no mere human could match him. Shifting his gaze to Cyrus Melchior, Kort saw that he, too, was not human. He was possessed of a similar power to that employed by Greyjek, but his mind seemed more focused and less flexible.

Looking down at himself, Kort’s attention was drawn to Greywhisker’s Razor, as it seemed to be on the verge of leaping out from his belt and striking at whatever was closest. It didn’t seem to have a mind, as such, but more of a primal urge. Kort could well imagine where it might have acquired such a tendency.

Jarvyk mentioned the exacerbated situation in Belmek and implored the others to come with him right away. Ashton said that he had acquired a map to Karran-Kural, where the Soul Pillars, Vittriss Bale, and this F. Abradius person were alleged to be, but if the man was having trouble with his search, it was agreed that seeking the place out could stand to wait a little while longer. Ryla agreed to accompany them on this quest if only so she could stay near to Kort and the Smoking Eye. She also had an interest in the Soul Pillars that Ashton had mentioned, particularly because no one knew anything more about them than their name.

...

Bransen received a message as he sat down in the tavern of the Lucky Monkey that Vigor Fehr awaited his pleasure upon the roof. Zachary Aslaxin I, the new owner, had installed a rooftop patio replete with a long metal slide for customers’ amusement. Bransen had already enjoyed the slide quite a bit since he arrived the day before, and he smiled at it fondly as he walked over to where the only two people currently on the roof waited.

A tall, handsome man with flowing blond hair stood near a flowering tree, somehow planted on the roof. He had a golden beard and piercing, electric blue eyes. He had a bow across his back and the look of a hunter rather than a warrior. Nearby, a slight woman leaned against the railing. She had a bow as well, a warm smile upon her lips, a friendly gleam in her eyes, and hair so white that it almost appeared blue — seeming more like crackling lightning than hair at all. The man spoke when he noticed the “sorcerer” approach. “Welcome, my friend! You must be Bransen Jacoby. I am Viggor Fehr and this is my half-sister Rashen. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

They both smiled and offered him a seat at a nearby table, commenting that they’d ordered a pitcher of cold lemonade. He accepted their offer, and the trio began to speak. Viggor started, “First, I want to tell you a little bit about who we all are, including yourself. We are all descended from a being of immense power from the elemental plane of air, by the name of Charad. Nigh 100 years ago, he visited Oerth and blessed a number of women with progeny. All of us have ancestors birthed from these couplings, and that makes us special.

“You have no doubt read the prophecy we sent to you, the Presage of Forms. My brother Migos and I along with Rashen and a few others, have been trying to fulfill that ancient prophecy and gain the power that is our birthright. Migos, Rashen, and I are all what learned people of the world refer to as “half-elementals.” As such, our elemental natures are easier to detect. Though your blood ties to Charad are longer, Migos recognized the spark that lies within you just as it does in us. If we are correct, and I believe that we are, we are the only people in the world right now who may complete the ritual to unlock the Power Universal. It is a very exciting time, and we would like you to be a part of the ritual. We want to share this gift with you, our newfound brother.”

Bransen replied, “What kinda power is it? What will you do with it?”
Viggor paused, somewhat taken aback by the question, but he answered, “The exact nature of the power is unclear to us, though we suspect it has to do with our elemental ancestry. Whether the power will come flooding into us or if it will manifest itself more gradually, I cannot say. As to the second question, quite honestly, until we found you, the sixth among us, I had not really considered what I might do with the power, should we succeed.”

“Where is Migos?” Bransen queried.
Viggor smiled again, “My brother is somewhere in the Underdark, questing for a relic that we need to complete the ritual. He travels with Lara, another descendant of Charad. Mertha, whom I believe you met on the road between here and Sasserine, is the final participant. The time is approaching, but it is not yet imminent.”
Bransen’s brow furrowed, “What about all the parts in the prophecy about death? That sure don’t sound too good.”
Viggor waved his hand dismissively, “Prophecies are notoriously vague. It could be that the Power Universal granted by the ritual will give us the strength to stem a tide of a horror yet to come. I am not sure. What IS certain is our part in this. We are the only beings capable of succeeding. Will you join us?”

“Well, sure I will, cous’,” Bransen smiled.
Viggor and Rashen both beamed, “That is excellent news, my friend. We will contact you when the time for the ritual is near at hand. I trust you will be found in Cauldron?” Bransen assented and Viggor continued, “Very good. We have covered the cost of a room for you downstairs if you wish to stay another night. We must depart on the morrow to do more to prepare for the ritual.” Bransen accepted the gift, and the three of them spoke more about their pasts, theories about the prophecy, and what they might do once they had secured the Power Universal.

...

The Silver Phoenixes, along with Ryla Soul Reaper and Cyrus Melchior arrived at the Lucky Monkey late that evening. They spoke with Bransen about what they had discovered, and he agreed that helping Jarvyk’s father out seemed the next obvious course of action. He then told them about his meeting with Viggor and Rashen (who had retired for the evening already).

Kort decided to take a look at Bransen with his Monocle of True Seeing, and was surprised at what he saw. Before he’d left Cauldron with the others, he’d stopped by the Temple of St. Cuthbert to inform Jenya of their intended quest. While he was there, he decided to get a glimpse of her true self using his new magical implement. An image of a 20 foot tall, grey-haired human man dressed in the raiments of St. Cuthbert, and carrying a massive cudgel had been superimposed on her smaller frame. He could see the hard lines and rigid discipline inherent in her aura. When he looked at Bransen, he just saw Bransen, only more so. The “sorcerer’s” sunny disposition gave him a glow that lit up the room. His curious eyes gleamed at the prospect of new adventures and tests, but there was no otherworldly being superimposed upon him. His faith seemed to lay wholly within himself.

The old dwarf excused himself and went to his room for a moment, nervously considering what he had been thinking about since the monocle arrived back. Steeling himself, he stepped in front of the mirror to gaze at the truth of his own reflection. He saw the All-Father, a dwarf barely taller than himself, with his hand resting lightly upon Kort’s shoulder. A dubious look was etched in the image of the god’s face. Then he looked at his own body, starting with his left eye. The smoke that normally trickled forth from the socket seemed to billow more strongly, and creeped over his head and down his muscled form. Though it seemed to empower him, lending him a measure of dark strength from the Abyssal plane of Occipitus, it also seemed to want to seep into his flesh. He shuddered at the notion, and gritted his teeth, flexing as if to shake it off, and the smoke cleared somewhat, although it gradually attempted to settle itself back down upon him. He started to turn away but paused when he caught sight of something strange in his peripheral vision. The left eye, normally seeming to be a translucent orb housing a small flame, it appeared now as a completely black orb that reflected the light. Looking directly at it made it disappear, but he continued to glance at it out of the corner of his eye and he could swear he sensed malevolence in that dark gaze. “Keep tryin’ then. Ye’ll not get what you seek here,” he muttered.

27 Flocktime, 103 CY

The Silver Phoenixes plus two arrived in Sasserine. They dropped their things off at the Maximus-Devon manor and then most of the party went to the market to acquire certain items they couldn’t normally find in Cauldron. Ashton also picked up a pair of scrolls of legend lore, one of which he used on the strange artifact they’d found in the Cathedral of Weejas. The spell revealed several interesting things.

The artifact was called a soulcage, and it was a powerful focus for a ritual to establish a permanent portal between the Material Plane and Carceri. The soulcage was forged by a fire giant named Dugobras and created by a cleric named Grehlia Cairnis with the aid of three individuals named Triel Eldurast, Skaven Umbermead, and Tarkilar. It also has ties to something called the “Soul Pillars of Karran-Kural,” along with a short quote that crawled across the magus’ mind “An ancient hate stolen from the souls of the dead, the cage is but the key to a greater evil.”

With this intelligence, the party decided it best hurry about its errand in Belmek. The Cagewrights, though slowed, had grand ambitions that might threaten not just Cauldron, but the entire region if they were successful.

1 Wealsun, 592 CY

Having arrived at the entrance to the Underdark for the dwarven nation of Magak the previous evening, the party continued its travel through the winding caverns. Jarvyk was a little surprised that they didn’t encounter any travelers at all, for the paths to the surface were typically well patrolled and thus relatively safe, as far as the Underdark went. Still, his concern for his father’s well being weighed more heavily upon him, and he didn’t consider it of great concern. Thus it was that no one noticed the hydra until it was upon them.

Kort was caught in the fiery breath that issued forth from each of the beast’s eleven heads. He bravely stood his ground and activated the monocle, in case additional threats were hiding in wait. Then he called out to Moradin to heal his injuries. Bransen moved forward and applied as much healing as he could, too, which probably saved the dwarf’s life, as the beast brought the ferocity of all of its heads to bear upon the warrior cleric. Cyrus took a step forward and manifested a blast of mental energy that flew from his hand to stab into the creature’s body like an arrow from a bow. Ashton struck at the beast with his strength withering green ray, futher empowered by his sorcerous might. It struck true, negating much of the creature’s natural advantage. Ryla shed the cloak of ghostly flames she’d been wearing and melded the released souls into a form she found to be more appropriate to the situation. Jarvyk circled around the massive stalagmite in order to flank the hydra.

Kort retreated farther and attempted to strike at the creature with the circlet of blasting previously held by Karamus. However, his newly sustained burns and lack of familiarity with the magical item caused his shot to fly wide. Greyjek brought his disintegration ray to bear, but the creature survived the assault. Cyrus advance farther up and struck again with a mind arrow. Bransen cast a spell that caused him to grow to the size of a giant, and he stepped forward to stand between the heavily injured Kort and the vicious hydra. Though its snapping mouths all bit at him as he moved, due to its weakened state and the protections offered by Bransen’s righteous might, it was unable to even bruise him. So thwarted, it turned its attention to Jarvyk as he approached, and leveled several clumsy attack his way. He was able to avoid the majority of the blows, although the hydra’s teeth did draw some blood. Ashton moved up and struck at the beast with strength draining magical missiles, further impairing it. Ryla strode boldly forward and brought her manifested longsword to bear with ruthless efficiency. Jarvyk took a step forward then and brought a series of vicious strikes against the hydra that brought it to its knees before it slumped over, slain outright.

In a stunning display of tactical maneuvering combined with outright ferocity, the company weakened and felled the monster in a matter of seconds, and well before its natural regenerative powers could save it. Bransen tended to the worst of Kort’s burns and bite wounds while the others split up and searched the cavern for more danger. Instead, they found what must have served as the hydra’s nest, and within it a few glimmering treasures.

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