Tegalad raised his hand to his eyes to shield the light of the bright sun overhead. His gaze took in the view of Myth Drannor from the southern entrance. The splendid spires, the clear water, the singing birds. All of it was soothing to his soul. He smiled to himself and made his way down the path towards the entrance to the city.

Set stopped for a moment at the top of the hill, taking in the first view of his current destination. It was sunset, and the port city of Scardale was backlit by an ocean of reds and oranges. It was definitely not the biggest city he had been to, but it was large enough to cover the entire valley below him. Being distracted by the view, it took a moment to remember why exactly he came into the Dalelands this time. Finding important reasons to wander across the lands of Faerûn came easy to Set.

“They aren’t reasons, they’re excuses,” Set said to himself with a smirk as he started down the hill.

The early evening air was fresh and smelled of an oncoming thunderstorm. He took that as a good sign that this lead might put him on the trail of the Stormbringer.

It had been a long few days since returning from Minauros and Onyx’s mind and bones were weary with the weight of Tegalad’s situation and with bringing Jack back from death. It was finally time to relax. Gennevive was dead, the veil recovered and finally time had come for this dog to rest. He made his bed among the leaves and grass of the sparse woods outside of Barter’s Pass and lay down to sleep.

Not but a few moments had passed before he noticed a cool light descend before him. A luminescent woman stood before him, her shoulders wrapped in a silver fur, her features too bright to look directly at. “Perrin, my faithful follower… I am glad you are still well, I had trouble watching your progress through the Nine Hells. I am glad you yet survive.” Onyx’s wolf eyes squinted at her and he rumbled in his throat “Mistress,” but did not stand, he was too tired and laying seemed as good an idea as any.

The heroes maneuvered through the labyrinthine halls of the keep trying to move deeper and deeper bypassing contingents of devils and keeping their heads low under the hoods they wore. They had donned purple robes after killing the smiths in the room where Tegalad had greedily took up Crast’s old sword, a wicked gleam in his once caring eyes. The party headed out to navigate the halls once more.

After avoiding many guards, making their way stealthily among dank corridors into the depths of Minauros the heroes were unable to avoid a confrontation with a group of devils of higher order wearing red robes. The devils fought viciously, taking control of Tegalad and igniting his flesh with flame steering him about the field of combat to fight his friends. The battle was won swiftly with good planning and luck.

To be continued…

To be continued

To be announced.

The party was faced, upon their exit of the tower, with a large two headed dragon that was dubbed “Frost-Fire” the creature hopped down before them and immediately spouted fire and ice upon the majority of the party. The fight was tense for a bit before Jack managed to draw the ire of the heads and sever them from the body. The guardian dragon now dead they saw the purple field vanish from around the Ritual of Remembrance. Ixtab took this immediate opportunity to snatch it up and then gathered his allies and used the elemental stone given him by Thadius Markins to transport them all happily home.

Tegalad stumbled his way down the main dirt street of Barter’s Pass with his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. It was nearly sunset and the sunlight that once brought peace and harmony to the elf’s soul was rapidly fading away. A few of the townsfolk offered him greetings and thanked him for the brave work he had done to protect the town. He barely listened to them as he made his slow march through town. Was he exposing himself to the people’s well-wishes to make himself feel better? If so, it didn’t help much. It only further drove further his depression of what he had done.

The elf finally made his way to the outskirts of the town. He slowly looked back at the merry people as they lived their lives in the moment. Tegalad quickly turned his head away from staring. Elves do not live in the moment. They never have and that is why they have lost so much while dreaming of the future and reliving the past.

To be continued.