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Doomstones: Heart of Chaos

The Story So Far...

As you surface from your visions you are blasted with a cold, cutting wind. The temperature has dropped significantly. Pellets of icy, grainy snow hurl into your faces, stinging terribly. Kayrath pulls the hood of her cloak to protect her face. You can only see 10 yards in any direction and you are not entirely sure where you are. You all recall fleeing. Kayrath leads off in a random direction. Ullia hides the Crystal among his robes. Jed lowers his head to protect his face.

As you continue to trek you hear another sound mixed in with the keening wind, the howling of wolves.

The howling gets closer, then turns into growling and snuffling as it gets closer still. A large group of creatures creep into the zone of visibility. You are surrounded by wolves. You count nine of them and they are extremely large ones.

They bare their teeth and growl. Kayrath stands perfectly still and her hand directs the others to do the same.

It is hard to say but they seem to be staring at Ullia…

Kayrath unholsters the Dwarven axe she found in the tomb.

“I think it might be wise, Mister Ullia,” shouts Jed above the gale, “If you perhaps use the Crystal to create quicksan under the wolves. That would give us time to get round them and escape!”
“Well if they get any closer to me, they’ll be tasting axe for a long time!” says Kayrath.

Then, beyond the wolves you notice two humanoids. One draws a sword.

After a few moments, one the wolves turns and lowers it’s head to the snow before barking once and running into the blizzard. The rest of the pack follows leaving you standing motionless. One of the figures holds a bow ready and moves forward towards you.

“HO! Who are you who trespass in these lands?” calls a deep booming voice.
“We are travellers lost in the storm. Can you aid us?” replies Kayrath. As the figures approach you notice one is significantly fatter than the other.

“We're travellers like you, here with permission and the documents to prove it!” replies the larger of the two.

As they get within a few feet you see them properly. A female elf with flowing black hair, similar to Kayrath’s, and a giant of a man who walks with a limp, carrying a bow. He is dressed in the brown robes of a Druidic Priest.
Suddenly the elf throws herself at Ullia, “Ullialfan, my love!”
He catches her in a strong embrace, “Pelgaliel, I feared I would not see you again.” It is his wife.
As she releases herself to look at him she looks to his concealed hand she asks, “Why is your hand concealed? Are you harmed?”

Kayrath, steps forward and puts a hand on Ullia before he speaks, “First we would know who sent you. You are undoubtedly the wife of Ulli here but who are you and how did you rid us of those wolves?”

“I am Torvaald Herrikson, Druidic Priest. I spoke with the pack leader and bade him find shelter with his pack. He seemed distressed about your presence in these parts. He seemed to think you carried great evil with you. As for who sent us, my charge came to find her husband, fearing for his safety having not heard from him in sometime. We tracked you as far as Eyrie, where the monks where most helpful in giving us directions.”

“I think they can be trusted, Miss Kayrath,” says Jed, “Let us show him what we carry so we might move on and get out of this wretched storm.”

Kayrath removes her hand from the front of Ullia’s cloak, allowing the elf to withdraw his hand holding the large Crystal, which shimmers with many colours.

“The Crystal of Power,” says Kayrath, “it’s taken us a long time and the loss of a number of friends to find the four parts. Now we must decide what is to be done with it. First we need to find shelter.”

“I agree,” says Torvaald, “I have lost my bearings in the storm, as I presume have you. I suggest we see where this direction leads us.”

You head off into the storm, following the big man for the best part of an hour. No shelter is to be found and soon you start to despair. The snow is turning to sleet and then rain. You hear a faint whistling carried by the wind. It is not a natural whistling caused by such winds but a tune. You quickly pick up the pace and try to follow the direction of the sound. You enter a wooded area as the whistling gets louder and eventually you see a figure ahead, crouched on the ground. As you get close he stands, whirls around knife in hand.

“Who goes there?” he calls.

You see he is a young boy, not much older than ten. In one hand is a knife, in the other, a rabbit. A snare lies on the ground from where he removed it. As you look closer, you see his eyes are completely white. He is blind.

“Fear not, young man,” calls Torvaald, “My name is Torvaald. I am a Druid. My friends and I are seeking shelter.”

“A Druid you say?” she says with a smile, “No danger then!” and he drops his knife into his belt, “You must be cold. Let me take you to my village, Urdevar. You can find shelter from the storm there.”

“You are most kind,” says Kayrath, pulling her hood tighter around her head, “What is your name?”

“Pippo,” he says simply before turning and trotting off through the trees.

You jog to keep up, despite your exhaustion, the thought of food and shelter gives you strength. Ullia moves quickest and talks to Pippo as you go.

“How can you navigate around in this storm?” he asks.
“Not being able to is normal for me,” replies the boy, “I make my way around by the feel of the trail beneath my feet.”
“What is this Urdevar you are taking us to?”
“It is the only real town around here. It’s where I sell the game I trap.”
“Are your parents in Urdevar? You seem a little young to be out in the wilds alone.”
“My parents died when I was young. They were killed by goblins I think.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was a long time ago and they must be in a better place now.”
Soon enough you arrive in the town of Urdevar though it seems to be little more than a village. There are less than 20 ramshackle buildings built on a small plain of flat land nestled between rough hills and a sheer cliff wall. Pippo leads you to the largest building, a two storey affair with a fenced area round the back holding a number of scrawny looking sheep and goats.

“This is Querla’s Place. She is the one that buys my goods. You can find shelter here,” he says with a smile.

Although there is no sign this place has the universal warmth associated with inns. A few tables are scattered about and a number of men in mining gear sit and drink A roaring fire burns in a stone hearth, and a large table serves as a bar where two halfling woman stand with bottles and mugs. A number of woollen blankets hang on the back wall with boards showing prices. A human woman and another halfling work the tables, delivering food and drink. You get a number of suspicious stares as you enter. Pippo walks up to the “bar” and throws a large sack onto it.

“There you go Querla, 3 stoats and a couple of conies,” says Pippo happily.

The larger of the halfling women drops a few silver coins into his hands, which he pockets quickly.

A Dwarf stands beside you at the bar and coughs.

“Friends, this is Drulmar, one of the silver miners,” says Pippo introducing you to the Dwarf.
Drulmar extends a grimy hand and greets each of you cordially.
“My apologies for the poor state of repair of the town but things will soon be different. Any day now there will be a great silver discovery and then we'll all be in clover. You'll see! Nice to meet you”

“Let us get you a drink, young Pippo, to thank you for leading us here,” says Ullia.
“Thanks but I don’t drink. I’m too young! Let me introduce you to some more of the villagers. This is Gilla,” he smiles to the older and smaller of the two halflings behind the bar.

She clutches a mug of grog and offers it to Torvaald, “Here, take a swig,” she cackles.
Torvaald takes a sip only to find the drink foul tasting and watery. He tries to hide his disgust and hands the mug back.

The other halfling waitress comes over and pats Jed on the backside. He jumps with a squeal.

“And this is Jerchunda,” he says with a smile.
“And who is this young fellow,” she says clutching the squirming Jed around the shoulders, “You’re my new favourite boyfriend.”
“Jerchunda, get on with your work,” says the other halfling behind the bar, who you gather must be Querla. She turns to you as the girl runs off to find another boyfriend, “Don’t mind Jerchunda. I’m Querla and this is my place. One word of advice, don’t get these peoples hopes up. Every now and again, somebody new comes along and makes all sorts of promises of a better life, but everyone ends up disappointed.”

Pippo smiles and shrugs before leading you away from the bar to a table where one map is hopping about in a heated discussion with a studious looking man sat at a table.

“I tell you, that story you told last night was about me,” he says, obviously angry.

“And this is Anton Lippio.”
“The people around here are very rude and not concerned with personal behaviour,” says the red faced Anton, walking away.
“And this,” says Pippo, “Is The Scholar. He tells the most wonderful stories”
“Welcome to Urdevar. Pippo exaggerates somewhat. Forgive me for not getting up, my joints are killing me,” smiles the man. He looks about 70.

A man in his late thirties calls you over from the adjacent table, “I can offer you some special deals on Peat Moss while you’re in town,” he says lifting a large bag from beside him, “Bollo’s the name and peat’s the game. Watch out for Querla though, she likes to boss folks about and is likely to boss you around too!”

You nod and thank him for the offer, saying you’ll bare it in mind, before Pippo leads you to an empty table.

“I’ll be getting on now. More traps to check. Enjoy yourselves and see you soon!”
With that he skips out, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Before long, the only person in the room you haven’t met, the human waitress, comes over.
“Hello, I’m Jeanne, what can I get you. Grog or nothing I’m afraid.”
“Five grogs it is then, “ grins Kayrath.

Jeanne then bends down conspiratorially, and whispers, “Urdevar is no place for folks who want to make something of themselves and that folks that plan to stay a while end up stuck here forever. You want my advice, heal up, wait for the storm to end and get out. I’d leave too if only I had enough money saved up.”

With that she goes off to get your drinks.
"I think Jeanne has just the right idea. Where were you headed when the
storm arose?" asks Torvaald.

“And what is the stone for???” asks Pelgaliel.
“The stone is a crystal of great power. Each individual stone has powers relating to the 4 elements; earth, air, fire and water. Now we have combined them all the power of the stone has increased accordingly. However, as of yet, I don't know what it does. Whilst we are recuperating in this village I will spend some time with the stone and understanding it's powers further. I'll let you know more about it when I now,”
Ullia sits beside his wife putting his arm around her, "Sorry it's been so long Pel - I kinda got caught up with this crystal of power business and all that. You wouldn't believe what's been happening. But enough about me - how long has it been? Too long. I appreciate you coming after me - I'm glad you found me ok. How have things been? Is everything alright back home?"
“Everything is fine. I missed you so much,” she smiles, glad to have last found him.
"So Torvaald, what really brings you out so far? Were you communing with nature when you just happened on Ullia's wife here?" asks Kayrath, changing the subject.
"I'm an old friend of his, so naturally, I had to help his lady find him!" says Torvaald, having a slug of ale, "We left Eyrie and had a tough time dodging dwarf patrols - heh heh, just kidding - and by a great stroke of luck, here we are, all together. One can really overdo the communing with nature bit, though: one can keep active much better by feeding it its enemies," Torvaald slaps his own well-fed gut.

Jed takes out a clay pot from his pack and removing the lid, speaks into it,

"Well chaps, it seems we are safe for another day at least! I hope you are all coping slightly better with all this adventure than I am!"

Pelgaliel looks puzzled over at Jed, who is now speaking into his clay pot. She shakes her head in disbelief.

Torvaald: "What's in the pot? And does it want some grog?"
Jed looks over his glasses at the druid, "They prefer blood actually," he says with a friendly smile. Reaching into the pot he pulls out a wriggling leech.
"This is Bill," he plucks another three one at a time, "Fred..Eric..and Sid."
Ullia: "Jed - how do you tell them apart?"
Jed shakes his head as he drops them back into the jar.

“Must be one special guy to get his gal coming out all that distance to find him!” says Kayrath winking at Pelgaliel.

Jed gets up and wanders over to the bar, “I don’t suppose you have any rooms to spare do you?”
Querla just laughs, “This isn’t an inn little halfling. Sleep in a hovel, like everyone else.”

“There are a couple of empty buildings at the end of this main street. You can find shelter there,” smiles Gilla, “Be a good boy and pass that mug to Gilla.”

Ullia goes and sits with the Scholar and buys him a drink. They spend the night exchanging stories.

“We’re only in this town for shelter from the storm right? We can move on tomorrow or a day or two after that at most,” says Torvaald to Kayrath.
“We should give Ullia as long as he needs. Jed and I are fine, just tired, but Ullia took some nasty wounds during our fight with Mordin. He hides it well, I’m guessing to stop Pel here from worrying too much.”
Pel looks over at her husband, a look of worry crossing her face.
“He’s fine, girl, just a few cuts and bruises,” says Kayrath, reassuring her, “He has the best doctor this side of the World’s Edge Mountains, eh Doc?”
Jed is preoccupied with a book he just dug out of his backpack.

“Who is or was Mordin?” asks Torvaald.
“Once a friend. A female Dwarven warrior, corrupted by chaos. She’s dead now.” Replies the sultry Elf Maid, “We should get a bit of rest overnight and see what opportunities present themselves in the morning. I also need to discuss what we’re going to do with Ullia and his rock!”
“Fine. I wish to speak with this scholar myself,” says the Druid, struggling to get his huge frame out of the chair.
He nods and sits beside Ullia. The scholar smiles and drains his mug. Torvaald takes his cue. As he returns with three frothing mugs of ale, he sits.

“I am a wanderer and a man of great appetites with an interest in the region,” says the Druid, hoping the Scholar will tell him something of the area.

“Urdevar have never been much of a town, though it might be a good place for one hiding from the authorities, for example. Its people are friendly enough with the odd exception.”

The stories go on for the next hour before the group say their farewells and head for shelter of a hovel. As was suggested you find and empty hovel at the end of the street. Old musty straw covers the floor and a number of sacks of grain are stored here. You all set up camp, grateful if not of a bed, then at least shelter from the elements.

You sleep well if lightly but are awakened in the early hours by a loud crash. The roof of the hovel caves in on your heads…

Once the demolition ceases, you crawl out from the debris. Luckily none of you have more than a few cuts and bruises but the hovel is completely demolished. There seems to be no obvious reason why this has happened and a number of villagers run over to help.
You spend the day recovering and spend a little time investigating and find that the hovels are generally in poor repair with much of the mortar holding bricks together cracked. However, the mortar on your hovel was not just cracked but crumbles to pieces the size of grains of sand. No explanation is obvious and even the Dwarven engineers that help you investigate, led by Drulmar, are mystified.

You spend the next night in Drulmar’s hovel, having befriended the alcoholic Dwarf and sleep soundly.

The next morning you are walking through the village when you hear a wailing. Running to the source of the sound, you find Pippo, slumped against the side of a hovel. His face is purple with bruises and a large cuts runs across his lips, from top to bottom.

“I was getting ready to leave the village when a group of people came up behind me and beat me up,” he says, still weeping.
“Who did it Pippo?” asks Ullia.
“I don’t know. They didn’t say anything. They’ve always been good to me before,” he cries, “Why would they do this to me now?”

Pippo gets himself up, “I’m going to the wilderness. At least I know it’s safe there.”
“Take care Pippo,” says Kayrath, kissing his cheek.

Later that day there is a commotion to the south west of the village, “It’s Bollo’s peat, it’s on fire!” shouts one miner as he runs past you.

You head towards the hut with the pile of peat moss outside. Despite the pouring rain, the pile of moss is ablaze. Villagers are panicking, grabbing mugs and buckets of water from the rain barrel.
“Without the peat we’ll all freeze to death,” calls one villager.

“Torvaald, take some of the villagers and see if you can get some of the unburnt peat away – reduce the amount of combustible materials for it,” shouts Ullia over the cries of panic.
“Everyone, form a line!” bellows the druid, “You, go there! You stop running! You, you and you – help me lift this rain barrel!”
Your calls to organise the villagers are ignored.
Ullia pulls out the Crystal and concentrates, “Well, here goes!”
“EXTINGUISH FIRE!” he shouts, holding the crystal in both hands and pointing it towards the flaming peat. The crystal glows blue then dims. Nothing happens. Ullia curses and gets back to manually trying to put out the fire. Pel, Kayrath and Jed help and soon the flames are dowsed, but not before a quarter of Bollo’s stock is gone.
Bollo angrily swears that he will find out who set the fire and make them sorry they were ever born, along with the person for whom they work.
“I had nothing to do with this,” shouts Querla angrily, obviously believing the finger of blame is on her, Bollo’s only business competitor, “This fire will drive up demand for fuel, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bollo did it himself!”
Soon the miners are taking sides and two obvious groups are forming among the village, that is until the imposing bulk of Torvaald steps between them.
“There will be no fighting here. You people need to stand together, not squabble over petty problems. The fire was most likely and accident,” booms the druid.

The people don’t seem convinced, but they disperse. You wait till they’ve gone and approach Bollo, who stands looking at his stock.
“Querla wants to drive me out of town because I compete with her. She’ll do anything to make me look bad. She did it herself, don’t you see? She wouldn’t be content with me just leaving, not any more. She wants the others to kill me!”
“That wasn’t bad work given that it was flammable,” says Torvaald, “Can you be sure Querla is behind this? Perhaps you ought to take on a partner, so that you have someone to help you guard your peat. Why not try that for a bit, before taking your feud farther.”
“I’ll do no such things,” grunts Bollo, “Why should I share my profits to defend what is mine? No, she has it in for and has since the beginning.”
“I feel the fire wasn’t between competitors but a force, trying to push us out of town,” says Pel.
“A force, what are you going on about?” says Bollo.
“She could be right,” says Jed, “There seems to have been a lot of bad fortune since we arrived.”
“So it’s your fault?” growls Bollo, advancing on the halfling.
Torvaald puts his massive frame in way, “Now now, good fellow. Just think about my advice. If it is bad fortune brought on by us, we’ll be gone by tomorrow, so you need worry no more.”

Bollo just snorts and goes back to clearing up the mess caused by the fire.

You head off back to Querla’s place.

“Any ideas why that rock didn’t work, Jed?” asks Torvaald.
“It is possible that Master Ullia is not attuned to the rock as a whole. We were attuned to individual rocks before the final battle with Mordin but now the Crystals are one, it is likely that the powers have changed or grown stronger than his comprehension or power to control. This is a powerful artifact we have in our possession, and I would advise caution before using it again,” says Jed at length.]
Ullia nods in agreement.

“We’re certain to have an auspicious day for travel on the morrow,” says Torvaald to the group, “I suggest we make an early start of it if at all possible. Should we take any villagers along, for the sake of having some extra hands? It seems like more than a few might be persuaded to leave. While we’re still here, I suggest we keep out of the local politics and feuds, it won’t do us any good.”

As you reach Querla’s, Kayrath notices a group approaching the town. As you all look, you see they are a group of heavily armoured, well-equipped warriors, trudging up the main path into the village, being guided by Blind Pippo. Immediately behind Pippo, leading the group, is a short stocky woman with a shiny, half-mask covering the right side of her face. She wears full plate in good repair and carries herself with absolute confidence and power. Flanking her are two other fully armoured knights. One is very tall and bald, the other is well build and is fairly young and very handsome. The rest of the party, a few paces behind the three knights, consists of a beautiful young woman with light blonde hair and a haughty demeanour, a middle aged man with an enourmous gut and outsized waxed moustache, a dark-featured, unsmiling fellow with a goatee, a halfling with purple bags under his eyes and thinning brown hair, and an older, scowling man who holds a chain connected to a collar around the neck of a pathetic, dirty old prisoner.

As you watch, they ignore you and march straight to Querla’s. You follow them in and take a table, watching them settle as the old man holding the prisoner negotiates with Querla over accommodations. Querla sakes her fist and the old man leans forward and whispers in her ear. Querla looks frightened and then nods her head in agreement. She then calls over some of the staff and tells them something. They argue and are obviously not happy, but soon nod in agreement and head off, presumably to vacate their rooms.

As the newcomers settle down to lunch, you are approached by one of the party, the halfling.
“Greetings,” he smiles, extending a hand to Jed, “I am Franno Burling.”
“Doctor Jed Jefferson,” replies Jed, shaking his hand.
“Doctor? I am please to meet you. May I?”
“Please, have a seat,” says Jed.
The halfling looks like a wrinkled human boy with dark bags under his eyes and thinning hair. He puts down a large mug of ale and sits.
“You look weary friend,” says Torvaald, “Have you and your party travelled far.”
“The storm has not been kind. We came here seeking shelter,” says Franno, taking a sip from his mug of ale.
“And what is your party’s business, if I may ask?” says Kayrath, looking at the warriors across the room.
“Some sort of surveying mission, but there’s something secret about it. I’m just an underling, they don’t tell me anything. What are you doing in this area?”
“We’re travellers,” says Ullia, before anyone else can respond, “Just explorers travelling and learning, gathering spell components.”
“And examining the local flora and fauna, as is my profession,” adds Torvaald.
“Well, it’s been nice meeting you all. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again soon enough,” Franno smiles and rises, walking back to his group.

“There was something not right about that fellow,” says Pel.
“He was lying,” sneers Kayrath, her eyes following the Halfling.
“But lady Kayrath, he seemed such a harmless fellow,” says Jed.
“You forget my former professions, Doc, I can tell these things. How long would it take for you to come up with a drug to loosen his tongue?”
“A Truth Serum? About an hour. I’d need someone to help me find ingredients, but is it ethical?” asks Jed.
“Needs must, Jed, Pel, Torvaald, go do a little foraging with Jed. Ulli and I will watch these people.”

With that Jed, Pel and Torvaald leave the inn and start to forage outside of the village for ingredients. It is hard work as not much grows, but within an hour, Jed clutches a bag of various plants and herbs. An hour later he comes out of the hovel you are staying in and returns to the inn. He sits and hands a vial to Kayrath, who tips it into a pint of ale.

Jed heads over to the group and invites Franno over for a drink, saying he wants to discuss the Moot. Franno is quite drunk already and agrees. The warriors watch Jed, sneering at his. Jed straightens his bow tie and nods as he leads Franno to your group. Kayrath offers him the drugged ale and Jed starts reminiscing about his homeland. After a while, Ullia pipes in.
“Who are your colleagues, Franno?” says the Elf.
“The others? They’re just typical, you know.”
“And what about your mission?” adds Kayrath.
“I don’t really know much about the mission. I just do my job, which is the kind of thing you’d expect. I bet you’ve had some interesting adventures. In fact, your names sound kind of familiar. Should I have heard of you?”
“I doubt it,” says Kayrath, abruptly.
“Does your group have a name?” asks Jed.
“Coldfire Knights,” he says drowsily, “Looking for some artefact. Cursed Mechtild says, Emperor sent her. Sometimes you go through your whole life to get somewhere, you don’t, and when you get there you find it’s not where you want to be, am I right?”
With a thud, his head hits the table. He’s out cold. The tall bold knight comes over and picks him up, “Come on Franno, time for bed.”
“Guess he had a little too much to drink. That grog is lethal,” grins Torvaald, lifting his cup
After the Halfling is taken away, you get up and leave Querla’s, heading to your hut.

As you get close, you see a group of people around a rain cistern. You gather around and look at what the commotion is. A white blanket of maggots floats on it. Mutters of “contaminated” and “who did it?” go through the people. The miners set about fishing in the water and pull out rotting parts of some creature. It appears to be a bear, dismembered and rotting. Querla is among the group, looking on in shock.
“Bollo did this!” she accuses.
“This is nothing to do with me!” he retorts.
The crowd are obviously unsure but are looking for a scapegoat. Bollo turns and returns to his home.
“We need to drain it and hope the rain fills it quickly.” Says one of the miners.
The others set about helping in the task. As the rest of the crowd disperse, you return to your hovel.

You settle down and talk about the newcomers to the village.
“Do you suppose they are seeking what we have?” says Ullia.
“Possible. He said something about the Emperor sending them,” says Kayrath.

As you talk you hear a commotion outside. A large group of people with pitchforks and torches are building a large pile of wood in the street. Another group are approaching, dragging a struggling figure. It is Bollo.
The Coldfire Knights step out of Querla’s and stand watching.

“Please, we have to do something,” says Pel to the rest of you.
“I suppose we ought to find out what he did before doing anything rash. If they’re witch hunters, though, I say we ought to back off. I’m sure they have more than enough justice to go round if we stand in their way,” remarks Torvaald.
“They don’t even seem interested,” says Kayrath, “Ullia, keep your eye on the Knights. Get ready to use magic if hell brakes loose. Torvaald with me.”
With that, Kayrath steps toward the group holding Bollo and draws her sword.
“If there is to be blood spilt today, it will not be Bollo’s. He is innocent of the charges and will not be executed without a fair trial,” shouts Kayrath, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention.
The villagers slowly loosen their grip on Bollo and he runs and scrambles behind the imposing figure of Torvaald. The rain is still pouring and everyone looks deflated that their moment of justice has been stopped.
Kayrath looks to the sky and the villagers follow her gaze. The clouds start to clear, the rain stops and the sun shines its warming rays over grim Urdevar. A rainbow appears in the mountains, the sky becomes clear. Birds begin to chirp.
As mutters go through the crowd, as people realise what has happened. Suddenly people start to cheer and hug each other, dancing round in delight. “It’s over, it’s over!” they cry.

Kayrath sheathes her sword, the animosity toward to Bollo forgotten.

Suddenly there is a rumbling under the ground. At the centre of the village, the earth opens up, a shower of dirt thrown into the air. A massive lizard head appears out of the hole with three shrieking, eyeless human heads jutting out of the top of the skull. As the creature, which is about forty feet long and resembles a legless lizard, drags itself out, other figures climb out. Human’s with heads like moles, fish and some just hairless and eyeless.
"Mutants!” screams Kayrath, drawing her sword again.

The lizard looks around and sees the nearest villager to him, Pippo. The creature grabs the poor boy in its jaws and bites him in half, spitting out the top half, crunching the legs in it’s teeth filled jaws. The torso and head lands at Ullia’s feet. As the villagers panic as the mass of mutants bite and claw them to death. The Coldfire Knights jump into action and Mechtild, their female leader charges to engage the lizard.

“Pel, stay back and keep and eye on things,” shouts Ullia, above the screaming, “If you see anything suspicious, warn the rest of us we don’t know what the others may try.”
“No magic,” grunts Torvaald to Ullia as he lumbers past him, staff in hand, headed toward the lizard.
Pel draws her sword and stands beside Ullia, “I think you might want to stand at the husband,” she shouts and charges to the help of the villagers.
Jed takes his sling, and loads and aims with the skill of a practised marksman.
Kayrath is already in the middle of the beastmen, slashing and hacking, Whirling in circles. Four of them attack her from all sides, one of the mole-heads biting her shoulder (-3W)
Torvaald attacks the lizard, alongside Mechtild. He gets one strike but it’s like hitting stone.
Pel gets two swings in, hitting one of the fish-heads in the head and a hairless one in the leg. Seeing this, Ullia gets his mace out and runs to help her. Jed hits one of the beastmen, but the stone bounces off.
Kayrath continues to pirouette, her black hair flailing about her, never missing a strike. One of the mole-heads drops to the floor with a crushed skull. One of them almost hits her, but she dodges with ease.
Torvaald swings twice, missing the lizard. Mechtild continues to hack away, her sword cutting great chunks of flesh from the beast.
Pel gets one strike in and even Ullia manages to crack one across the head. Another slingstone from Jed flies wide.
One of the fish-heads swings at Pel and glances past her shield to scratch her arm (-2W) The carnage goes on around as the Coldfire Knights effectively dispatch the creatures one by one.
Four more strikes from Kayrath and four of the creatures fall dead. Torvaald fails to hit and Mechtild does more punishment to the lizard, dodging its viscous teeth at the same time.
Two more attack Kayrath, one almost hitting her again, before she dodges.
Pel hits again, cutting into a beastman’s arm, and Ullia clobbers one in the back, knocking it over, as it bares down on a poor villager.
Jed fires again and hits on beastman straight in the throat. It chokes, and collapses dead to the floor.
Kayrath concentrates on one of the eyeless enemies, slashing this way and that, cutting a deep ‘K’ into its chest before ramming her sword up through its jaw and into its brain. Two attack her, but fail to hit anything. Pel is hit but her shield protects her.
Torvaald gets in a solid hit to the head, still seemingly doing no damage, then the lizard grabs his staff in its jaws. He loses his grip as it swings its head, crushing the stout quarterstaff to kindling.
Pel gets in another two strikes, attacking one of the two beasts facing Kayrath. Ullia swings but fails to hit anything. Jed hits the same one on the head with a stone.
Kayrath spins in a circle, lops the head off one, slashes the other one twice and runs it through the gut.
As it falls, there are ten dead around you and numerous others dead at the hands of the knights. As Tovaald steps back, weaponless, Mechtild rams her sword in between the beasts eyes, through the middle of the three screaming human heads that adorn the beasts own forehead. Removing her sword, green blood spurts out and the creature falls with a loud thud.

She holds a hand out to Torvaald, who takes it, “You fought well,” she says, speaking for the first time. Her voice is deep and gruff.
She raises a hand and circles it in the air and the Knights head back inside, without another word.
“I think it’s time to get out of this town,” says Torvaald, to Kayrath, as she wipes thick ichor from her blade.
“I agree,” she replies, “Jed, check the survivors, do what you can for them. We leave in an hour. Ulli, help him. I’ll pack our things.”

Jed and Ullia help the surviving villagers and Torvaal helps clear the dead. Within an hour, Kayrath returns in a change of clothes and carrying your packs. It is then that one of the halfling women comes out from the inn and hands Kayrath a note, “Excusing me miss, but the old man from that group passed me this to give you while the fighting was going on.”
She hurries back without saying anything else.

The note seems to have been written in a hurry, “You are in danger. Journey to Hawks Claw Peak to the south. Seek Zockri”

“Well, looks like we have a destination now. I wish those bloody monks had given us an idea what that prophecy said we should do with these things,” says Ullia.

Once the injured are tended to, you leave town, saying farewell to a few of the villagers you have befriended. Torvaald nods farewell to Mechtild, but says nothing.

Setting out into the hills, the journey a fairly pleasant now the weather is fine. The ground is still mushy underfoot, but the sun is drying the ground fairly quickly.
After a few hours, Jed sniffs the air, “Can you smell that, Mistress Kayrath?”
You all sniff, but smell nothing, other than your own unbathed bodies and the smell of dried blood on your clothes.
You continue on and Jed sniffs the air again. This time the rest of you smell it – a foul stink like rotten eggs. Within seconds it is gone again.

A couple more hours pass and night begins to fall. You find a decent spot between two hills, and set up camp. Ullia sits crosslegged, studying the stones. Jed reads his magic books.
“You and I will take turns to watch, Torvaald. Two Hour shifts suit you?” says Kayrath.
“Fine be me,” smiles the big man, poking the fire with a large branch with one hand, and taking a bite of dried meat with the other.

Next morning, as you break camp, Torvaald tells of something he saw on the last hour before daybreak. There was a rustling in the bushes and on investigating, he saw a glimpse of a hulking creature, walking upright. The torch Torvaald carried seemed to reflect off the creatures eyes, making them glow. It was gone as quickly as it came.

As you continue on your journey, Ullia tells that he has now attuned to the combined crystal and can use all of its powers. He is stopped mid sentence by the sound of a strange drumming and chanting. The sound echoes off the surrounding mountains so that its point of origin is impossible to pinpoint. Ullia suddenly looks worried.
“What is it Ullia?” asks Kayrath.
“That sound is similar to drumming used by Demonologists in rituals of summoning,” replies the wizard, “That particular chant is used to placate and calm the demon being summoned, to let it know that its summoners are also minions of the same Dark God.” His face darkens further, “I heard them mention Tzeentch.”
“Lets get moving. If we run into it, we’ll deal with it, but I don’t intend to go out of our way to face a demon,” says Kayrath, pulling the huge double-bitted battle-axe from her back. The sun glints off the silver and gold inlaid into it.
“Where in the world did you you get that? It’s no weapon for a lady!” says Torvaald.
“A little gift from Hargrim’s Tomb. Ullia got his Crystal, I got this baby,” she grins, hefting it through the air, as if it were light as a feather.
“There is more to you than meets the eye, Miss Kayrath,” smiles Torvaald.
“That’s the way I like it,” she replies.

You see no sign of demons or worshippers and later in the day, waiting for you in the middle of the trail you find six steaming piles of freshly laid excrement.
“Charming,” frowns Pel, looking away.
Torvaald gets down and examines it, smelling it. Five of the piles are obviously laid by mammals. The sixth is much smaller with a distinctive black and white appearance. He instantly recognises the smell – a more intense version of the nasty aroma you encountered earlier.
“These were left for us as a sign,” says Torvaald.
“A threat? An insult?” asks Ullia.
“I don’t think so. Many animals use dung and urine as communication, though I’m not sure what this means. I am friend to all animals. We have nothing to fear if these are natural creatures,” replies the Druid.
“There is little natural in this mountain range,” says Kayrath, looking around for signs of trouble.
You carry on travelling until dusk and you set up camp again. The same routine for watch is arranged, though Pel volunteers to take a two hour shift so Torvaald can sleep longer. The journey is exhausting him.

During Kayrath’s watch, in the middle of the night, she is alerted by a noise. Shining a light in the area where the noise came from, she finds a pile of rocks formed into a crude altar. On this altar are a number of clay pots. Cautiously she opens them and finds raw meat within. The meat looks fresh.
Quickly she awakens the rest of the party to see.

“What do you make of it, Jed?” asks Kayrath, as the halfling carefully examines the meat.
“Very fresh – no maggots at all. There are bones…oh my.”
The halfing lift out a piece of meat, complete with bones, with his large metal cooking fork. It is a skinned humanoid foot. It is without doubt that of a halfling.
Jed drops the fork in shock, and promptly vomits.

None of you sleep for the rest of the night and as soon as the sun comes up you set off again. It is about midday when a number of figures jump out from the brush, rush onto the path ahead of you and drop to the ground on their bellies. They are beastmen – four of them are bear-people. They look rather moth eaten and their snouts are covered in scars. The fifth is part man, Part horse, and wobbles about frightfully on two ungainly horse legs. The sixth is a skinny fellow with the head of a finch, his body covered in patchy brown feathers.
The creatures are babbling in an unknown language. None of you realise what they are saying.

Then one of them, the finch-head, speaks in Old Worlder, “Oh great avatars of Chaos, you so smart and evil, we love you much and follow you always. You so smart to look like stupid humans, halflings and elves, not like Chaos creatures, so it be easier for you to destroy world! I am Slurk, your loyal servant! This is Hinny, and Urkus and Abzort and Grumm and Pleth, who will be almost as loyal servants as Slurk! Hail Tzeentch! Destruction to all!”

“Hail Tzeentch?!” says Jed.
“HAIL TZEENTCH!” they all reply, obviously knowing enough Old Worlder for that cry.
Kayrath turns to Torvaald and Ullia, whispering, “Do we play along or take them out here?”
“I think we ought to talk alone about this,” replies Torvaald, “We will consider your request and give you an answer in three hours time. Go NOW!” bellows the commanding Torvaald.
“O Woe and blasphemy! No insult could be worse than this! Let us serve you. Let us lick the undersides of whatever parts you want us to lick,” grovels Slurk.
“I SAID TWO HOURS! DID TZEENTCH NOT GIVE YOU A BRAIN?” bellow Toraald.
Slurk bows his head, chirps something in his own tongue and the beastmen turn and shamble into the trees again.

You continue on down the trail, discussing them as you go.
“I’m in favour. They would make good cannon fodder if we ran into trouble,” says Torvaald.
“I am willing to let them be our guides. We should try and find out what they think we are and more importantly why they think we are chaos collaborators,” replies Kayrath.
“Meanwhile, we ought to consider whether it’s actually in our interests to follow a ‘clue’ we got in a country inn…is that really our best bet? I would think that Ullia would have some lead from the Crystal, that’s better than that,” says Torvaald.
“Sadly not,” replies Ullia, “When we were searching for the stones, they directed us to some extent, to find each other, but a lot of our search was aided by rumours and portents. I have a feeling this man spoke truthfully. He was the prisoner of the Coldfire Knights and their mission is finding ‘some artifact’, I’d bet on my life it’s the stones they are seeking. Presumably that prisoner holds some key to the whereabouts of the stones, why else would they be holding him during a mission for the Emporer, no less."
After walking for another couple of hours, Slurk and his band appear before you again, repeating the actions of before, “Have you made a decision, Masters?” chirps Slurk.
“We have. You may join us on our journey,” replies Torvaald.
“Hail Tzeentch,” he cries and his colleagues cry the same in unison.
“Hail Tzeenth,” says Kayrath and smiles at Slurk.

The group fall in around and behind you, with Slurk at the front, skipping ahead excitedly and falling back to speak, “Where are we headed, masters?”
“Hawk’s Claw Peak. Do you know it?” asks Kayrath.
“But of course, it is a just a few hours away. I will lead you if you wish,” replies Slurk.
“We know the way, but stay at the front,” bluffs Torvaald, not wanting the beastmen to think they are indispensable.

A little way on, Kayrath calls to Slurk, who skips back to her, “Tell me Slurk, how did you know our true nature? It is not obvious we follow Tzeentch.”
“You test us, to see if we truly as cruel and clever as we must be to serve great Chaos champions such as you! The stench of Chaos, you is pulsing with it, it assailed our nostrils from many miles away, made us drunk with pleasure” All will eventually come and serve you. Wherever you go, Beastmen smell your beautiful, evil stench, come to bow before you. All Beastmen will join you, follow you as you send us to obliterate stinking Old World! Stupid Empire! Ashes, it will be. Many corpses, we will eat!”

Happy with himself and his answer, he skips ahead and continues to lead. As you look at the other beastmen, they lower their heads from your gaze.

Soon enough you reach the foothills of Hawks Claw Peak. Ahead you see the reason for the name of the mountain, a mass of hawks circle the air above and ledge on the side of the mountain.

“Hawks here will attack if we go further. How do we proceed masters?”

“Slurk, do you know a way past these hawks WITHOUT them attacking?” asks Ullia.
“Another test, Master? I am sorry to say I cannot answer, short of finding another, longer route. Or maybe moving fast through pass?” he squarks, jumping excitedly from foot to foot.

Ullia turns to Kayrath, whispering, “I can use the stone to create wind ahead of us,keeping the hawks back but I think it wise not to let these beasts see. Any thoughts?”
“A fine idea, Master Ullialfan, but did you forget Wind Blast? We both have such magic as our secret would not need to be revealed,” chirps in Jed.
Kayrath smiles down at the little genius beside her.

“Both good plans, Slurk, however, I have a better one. Jed?”
Both Jed and Ullia pull out from their bags what look like leather footballs and step to the front of the group, “Keep behind us,” says Ullia as he starts to walk, the two of them chanting in Unison, holding the balls aloft.

Hawks begin to circle lower and you notice a small breeze, blowing dust ahead of you. The hawks start to dive bomb from the sky and the two wizards lift the balls, and a huge blast of wind shoots into the sky, holding the hawks up. You quickly head up the pass, Jed and Ullia holding back your attackers and soon the group are safe.

Once past the hawk trail, you start the long journey up the slope of the glaciated mountain. The journey is slow going and as night falls you set up camp. Slurk and the others go hunting and bring back 4 white skinned rabbits, which Jed sets about skinning and cooking. As you take rest, Torvaald and Ullia find they have small pinpricks around their ankles. They itch quite badly and Jed takes a look at them, “If we were in swamp or jungle, I would have sworn they were leech bites. Otherwise I’m stumped. Would you like me to put Fred on them?”
“I think they’ll be ok,” says Torvaald nervously, smiling at Ullia.
Slurk looks at the wounds, “Ice worms, master, you have been bitten by Ice Worms!”
“Ice Worms! Of course,” says Jed, “They are parasites not disimilar to leeches. Best way to get rid of them is to burn them off while they still stick to you.”
“So they fell off by themselves?” asks Pel, worried for her husband.
“Sadly not, by now they will have burrowed through the flesh and will attack you muscles in the next few days where they will pupate into beetles and burrow their way out again, doing considerable damage to your legs.”
Torvaald and Ullia look shocked, “And you have the cure, Jed?” asks Torvaald.
“Only a Druid can fix that with a Delouse spell. Once they are in, they aren’t coming out!” replies the halfling.

After eating, you settle down to rest, posting guards from your group as well as from the beastmen so you can keep an eye on them. Torvaald and Ullia have a hard time sleeping knowing what is going on in their legs.

With no tent and only two blankets between you, you are likely to freeze. Hiding it under his cloak, Ullia uses the Crystal to invoke a Zone of Warmth, However, something goes wrong and a blast of wind emits, blowing the cloak of and knocking Slurk and a couple of the Beastmen tumbling across the snow. Ullia grasps the Crystal and tries to control the Wind, and soon it dies down, but not before the beastmen have seen it.
“Hail Tzeentch,” they gasp, “It glows with the might of Chaos.”

Slurk gets to his feet and walks over, eyes fixed on the stone. There is then a shriek and flurry of snow as a group of about 12 small creatures appear from behind a rock and charge, weapons drawn. GOBLINS!

Surprised as the goblins appear, each of your draws weapons. Ullia pulls a Tuning Fork and lets loose two Lightening Bolts. A path is cut through the goblins, 6 of them hit by the blast.
Kayrath spins Hargrim’s axe, flying into the goblins like a dervish. Two a thrown into the air, limbs separated from bodies. Torvaald’s staff swings through the air, clobbering one goblin, but failing to do much damage.
Pel stands in front of Ullia, sword ready to defend, failing to strike one goblin that charges her. The goblin ducks and slashes her across the left leg (-6W)
Jed spins his sling, but his shot goes wide.
One goblin slashes at Torvaald but his tough skin throws the blow off. Two attack Kayrath, one of which appears to be the leader, wearing a shiny helmet. The smaller of the two miss and the leader slashes her across the belly, but her mail protects her.
The beastmen charge in at the goblins scattered by the lightening, ripping them to shreds with screams of glee.

Kayrath spins, axe flying through the air. With a massive swing, she cuts the leader goblin across the belly, slicing him cleanly in two. Following up she decapitates the other goblin facing her.
It is only a matter of moments before the rest of the goblins are ripped apart. With the leader dead they lose heart and soon the beastmen are feasting on their entrails joyously.
Kayrath cuts the helmet from the leader and throws it to Jed. He and Ullia examine it.
“It’s magical, definitely,” says Jed, looking at Ulli for a second opinion, who takes it and studies it carefully.
“Goblin manufacture, I’m guessing. Minimal magic power, protection only, I suspect,” replies Ullia, handing it back to Jed, who drops it on his head with a grin (Helmet +1 fits Goblin/Halfling only)
“Suits you, Doc!” says Kayrath, wiping the goblin blood from her axe.

You continue on and another two days of dealing with snow blindness , near avalanches and pain in Ulli and Torvaald’s legs. The beastmen seem even more in awe of you having seen the Crystal, but Ullia keeps in hidden as much as possible.
Eventually you arrive at the hut.
“It would be best if you left this one to us,” says Kayrath to the beastmen, “Wait at the foot of the hill.”
“Yes Mistress,” says Slurk, bowing as he retreats.

Ullia knocks on the door.
“Go away!” comes a shout from inside.
“Zockri, open up, it’s very important!” shouts Kayrath.
“I said, GO AWAY!”
“We have the four Crystals of Power!” calls Ullia.

With that, the door opens and a scary looking Dwarf appears, “Get in here, you damned fools!”
The hut is a mere ten by twelve feet, and is lined with fur inside. Zockri has a small fire going in a metal stove. Once inside, Zockri seems disorientated and lost in thought, as if he’s forgotten exactly why he let you in. The ancient Dwarf is a sight to behold; his flesh is wrinkled and desiccated, tightly hugging his skull and bones. His yellowy beard flows so long that is trails on the floor, collecting dust. Little red mites crawl around in the beard. His fingernails are long and discoloured. However, Zockri’s eyes are bright with intelligence, and with fear.
“I’ve waited over four thousand years for this day. Four thousand, five hundred and twenty one years to be exact. But now that the moment has come, I have forgotten what I was meant to do. Do I help you or let it all happen? Let the end finally come?”
“You know about the Crystals, about their purpose?” asks Ullia.
“Indeed,” replies the Dwarf, “I helped create them.”

“You created them?” Kayrath asks in semi-disbelief, scrutinising the ancient Dwarf.
“Fascinating!” Jed offers, adjusting his spectacles, before wandering up to Zockri, “I’m Doctor Jed Jefferson and I am very pleased to meet you Mister Zockri!!” he says enthusiastically, taking the old Dwarf’s hand and shaking it heartily.
“So, tell us about the crystals, Zockri,” says Ullia, excitedly,” Why did you create them? Who with? For what purpose? How did you create them? How can I use them more reliably? What else can they do? And why are you hidden away in this place? What end? Let what happen? What are we meant to stop?” he takes a breath, and Kayrath touches his shoulder to stop him starting more questions.
“I think he can start with what was their purpose,” she says, holstering her axe, You see, the problem I have with them is that they attract the wrong kind of followers, if you know what I mean, honey!”
Torvaald settles down and warms his feet by the fire, the rest of you stand transfixed, waiting for the old Dwarf to reply.
“It is rather perplexing…” Jed continues.
“Ain’t just perplexing, Doc, we’ve got a bunch of beastmen groupies following us like lovelorn puppies who think we’re emissaries of the Chaos gods. On top of that I’ve lost count of the good guys and gals we’ve lost during the search for these babies! And that doesn’t even begin to cover the treachery of Mordin – Liadriel rot her!”
“And all for the power of the stones. So why did you help create them, Mister Zockri, and who else was involved?” Jed enquires again.

“It is, I suppose, irony that brings Elves to my door when it was our quarrels that began all this,” he grumbles and stares at the fire as he begins the story.

“To understand why we made the crystals, how we could make such a terrible mistake, you have to understand the times. Dwarfen civilisation was at its height. You should have seen the magnificent cities of my youth! The treasures we excavated! The secrets we discovered! It seemed as if every day a Dwarfen engineer came upon a new discovery that improved our lives, that made our work more efficient and our hours of rest more diverting and relaxing. The works of Dwarfen engineering you know today are but pale reflections of our ancient grandeur.”

“Our enemies were in disarray; we thought we had defeated them forever. We had beaten the Elves,” he grins at Kayrath, Ulli and Pel, “At the Battle of Three Towers in the year – ah but you Humans have remade the calendar since then,” he says to Torvaald, “And we were steadily driving them out of our cities and back to Ulthuan,” he chuckles at the memory, “The greenskins were of little concern to us; our cities were fortified, our enemies strong. We knew of the Dark Gods of Chaos, but we did not see their workings in the world; some thought that they were nothing but superstitions, stories told to frighten children and foolish people. We grew complacent, overconfident, overproud. Thus the seeds of our downfall were sown.”

“I was a young engineer in those days, with no reputation to speak of. My father, Zockri the Elder, was famed for the marvels of his engineering, and I was expected to contribute as much to our society as he had. I was apprenticed to the great Wismag the Sagacious, designer of many ingenious steam-powered devices.”

“Wismag assembled a group of the finest dwarfen minds to pursue a new theory of his. The theory held that a new source of energy could be found which could make steam power seem like child’s play. He thought that this new form of power could be wrested from the very stones of the earth. It would be found in crystals – crystals of power. These crystals would allow us to manipulate the energies behind the very elements themselves! It was not what you would think of as magic - we Dwarfs scoffed at that thing of the Elves – its effects would be so mighty as to eclipse the greatest accomplishments of wizardry.”

“The process of perfecting Wismag’s crystals took many years. We built our own underground complex under the Yetzin Valley, where we could pursue our tests in privacy. We created devices to channel the energy of the crystals. I know that you will think this is the most absurd of fantasies, but we actually discovered a way to send this power through the air, where it could be intercepted and used by any Dwarf city equipped with special apparatus of our design.”

“Finally, ten years after the defeat of the Elves, we were ready. All of our test results were positive. We were about to change the face of the world, and usher in a new golden age beyond the dreams of our fathers. We transported the receiving apparatus to the great strongholds of the World’s Edge Mountains.”

“The first test was scheduled for the stronghold of Karaz-a-Karak itself. I was the one who stood before the receiving apparatus, ready to show the results of this experiment to the vaunted Gotrek Starbreaker himself. My colleagues remained in our complex here in the Yetzin valley, where the crystalline device was housed.”

“If you know your history, you can guess the rest. The tests failed catastrophically. The apparatus in Karaz-a-Karak exploded, wounding Gotrek Starbreaker and nearly killing me. Waves of destructive energy coursed throughout the strongholds of the Worlds Edge Mountains, causing explosions and earthquakes wherever we had installed one of our receiving machines. Thousands were killed. And this was but a mild foretaste of the disasters to come. Soon our civilisation was devoured by a wave of volcanic activity and further earthquakes. Seeing that we were vulnerable, the Goblinoids fell upon us, and that was the start of the end of the golden years of the Dwarfs.”

“So what do you mean by, ‘Let the End finally come’, Zockri? Don’t think I like the sound of that…” pouts Kayrath, listening at the door for you followers movements.

“It is the fault of Wismag, and of myself, and of our other colleagues. If we hadn’t made those damned crystals, if something hadn’t gone so completely wrong, our civilisation would not have been destroyed. The crystals were separated, but even at the time, there were grim omens. Shamans and wizards said that the crystals could not be kept apart. They were meant to destroy the world, and some day they would.”

“This is my curse – to live and remember. To wait until the crystals are reassembled by the inevitable pack of fools. And now here you are, fools. Perhaps you will face a similar curse, to linger on thousands of years after your unknowing actions have destroyed everything you hold dear. Or perhaps you will be annihilated, along with everyone else. Count yourself lucky if that happens, my friends. Count yourself lucky.”

“We’re not fools honey! We were dragged into this by some prophecy,” says Kayrath, walking over the fire to warm up.
“Where can we find the complex where Wismag created the crystals,” asks Ullia.
“The ruins are not far from here. I will draw you a map. The place is called Karak Vagno. It means Stronghold of Wisdom.”

Zockri then goes on to draw a map to the place – it is a several day trek north of Kadar-Gravning.

“Why did the experiment go wrong?” asks Jed, looking around the hut.

“For hundreds of years after the Great Catastrophe I racked my brain for the answer to this question, going over every detail again. To this day, I still do not know,” replies the old Dwarf.

“How many others worked on the experiment?” asks Torvaald.

“There were five of us, Wismag, myself, Ulgruid the Odiferous, Burgmal Cleft-Pate and Frethrof the Astute.”

“Could one of them sabotaged the project,” asks Kayrath.

“Why would they do such a thing?” he replies, bitterly.

“Do any of the others still survive?” adds Torvaald.

“No, they were slain in the explosion that destroyed Karak Vagno.”

“Is Karak Vagno inhabited now?” asks Ullia.

“Why would it be? It is nothing but a treacherous ruin.”

“How are the crystals connected to Chaos?” asks Kayrath.

“Who says they are?” replies the Dwarf.

“There are numerous prophecies linking the crystals to Chaos,” suggests Jed.

“Speculation, nonsense and superstition. I am – was – an engineer. I believe in only what is proven.”
“You must be very lonely here,” says Pel, speaking for the first time. It looks as if she has been weeping, “Do you ever have any visitors?”

“Every year, Dwarfs from the Brotherhood of Memory come to see if anyone has come to see me about the crystals.”

“Brotherhood of Memory? Who are they?” asks Ullia.

“They are Dwarfs from Karak Hirn who have sworn to kill, if necessary, to prevent anyone from combing the crystals. They’ll no doubt slay you soon.”

“Any particular members of the brotherhood we should know about?” asks Kayrath, hand twitching about the handle of her axe.

“Last time they came, the one who did most of the talking was a red-haired woman named Moera Sure-Strike. She seemed very confident. I don’t talk to them much when they come. I just want them to leave me alone.”

“Have you heard of a group called the Coldfire Knights?” asks Torvaald, referring to the group you encountered earlier.

“No,” replies the Dwarf.

With that, there is a loud crunch of wood as the door flies off its hinges and an axe flies into the hut, embedding itself in Zockri’s face, splitting his skull from the top of his forehead to just above his top lip. For a split second you see the thrower – Mechtild von Stroharm.

Zockri staggers back, arms windmilling. He knocks Jed to floor and slams against the west wall, the one that faces the cliff. There is a terrible groaning sound and the floor suddenly tilts to the west and the table slides across the floor. Torvaald and Pel are thrown to the floor and slide towards the west wall. Only Ullia and Kayrath remain on their feet. Mechtild is about to step into the hut but freezes mid-stride. The groaning sound is followed by an even more ominous splintering sound. Mechtild jumps backwards, away from the hut. There is a thump and the tilt becomes steeper as the stilts on that side break. There is a sound of cracking ice and the hut begins to move.

Torvaald rolls and covers Pel, protecting her from flying objects. The rest of you grab on to what you can.

The hut goes over the lip of the cliff, and you all have a sinking feeling as you’re airborne! You feel strangely weightless for what feels like forever before there is a loud crunch as it hits solid ice. You are all thrown about but sustain nothing but bruises. The hut continues to slide, rocketing like a giant toboggan. Every now and then, you feel weightless again as you take off, before crunching back down on the ice. The hut rolls over end on end, throwing you all about. There is screaming and shouting.

Suddenly you sense that the speed is decreasing and the hut is meeting more and more resistance. Finally, the sliding building slows to a crawl. Kayrath gets to her feet first and the hut shifts again, “NOOOOOO!” shouts Torvaald. The hut slides a few more yards before stopping and Kayrath keeps her feet. You notice that the door now faces up and the “floor” is actually a wall. Kayrath looks through the doorway and see hawks circling above.

“Looks like we’re back at the hawk cliff, but this thing isn’t stable,” says the Elf.
Judging which direction the hut is rocking, she pulls herself through the door, “We’re on the cliff edge,” she shouts down, “Slowly, each of you move to this side and come through. Grab Zockri, I think he’s still alive.”

Eventually all of you climb out, including Zockri, who shockingly enough, is still alive, with the axe bisecting his face. As Torvaald climbs out, the hut topples over the edge. Kayrath grabs him and saves him from following it.

Zockri regains consciousness, “I can’t die! I can’t die!” he screams, contorted in pain, “Destroy the crystals. I can only die when they die,” he begs.
“We will, Zockri, we will,” says Ullia, grasping the Dwarf’s bloodsoaked hand, looking on him with pity.

The hawks are leaving you well alone, undoubtedly scared by the disturbance.

“We’d better get a move on,” says Torvaald, “I’m certain the Coldfire Knights are not far away. I have the map so we’d better head to this Karak Vagno.”

The journey to Karak Vagno is uneventful. There is no sign of your Beastmen followers for the whole journey. Soon enough you arrive at the site. The entrance dominates a clearing in the trees, surrounded by ruined pillars and a watchtower. The Entrance itself is a massive statue of a Dwarven head, steps leading up to a gate between thick stone lips. Trees surround the clearing and you enter alongside a stream that runs off to the south, into the trees. As you get close to the head, you see a padlock on the gate itself. The clearing is silent.

“Is anyone good at picking padlocks?” hisses Pel.
Jed starts his walk towards the head, only to be held back by Kayrath. He glances up at the Elf only to find her listening intently to the surroundings.

"Can you hear something, Miss Kayrath?" asks the Halfling.
"No...and that's just the problem!" she replies, looking and listening carefully.
"It seems very quiet and safe out there!" Jed beams.
"It's too quiet, Doc! I don't like it..."
"Well this place has been deserted for quite some time!"
"Yeah, and if it was simply deserted, why would anyone go to the effort of padlocking the gate? Question is, was it to keep people out or keep something in?" she pouts, chewing on her lower lip as the party steadily make their way over to the gate.
Torvaald keeps and eye all around, his staff ready. Pel and Ulli follow Jed to the entrance.
Kayrath unsheathes her axe as they make their way, ready for the first sign of trouble, eyeing the trees with suspicion.

“Zockri didn’t mention how to enter this place, did he?” asks Torvaald.
"Maybe we should look for a spare key under the doormat!" Kayrath says more to herself than anyone else, scanning the surroundings.

Once at the gate, Jed takes a small silver key from his pouch and waves his fingers over it, chanting quickly. He then inserts the key into the lock and it grows to match the size of the lock, glowing with a golden light.

Suddenly the ground beneath your feet becomes very soft and you begin to sink. You all leap in different directions, off what appears to be a patch of quicksand. Only Jed, on the solid step in front of the gate, remains where he is. Arrows fly from the watchtower across the clearing. Torvaald is hit in head (-2W) Another arrow flies wide. Then there is a flash of lightning, also from the tower. Ullia leaps and rolls as three bolts chase him in succession. Only the third bolt hits him square in the groin, stunning him (-3W - +2crit)(stunned 3 rounds)

“Deserted, my cute ass!!” says Kayrath, “Zockri didn’t mention about no electrifying greeting for us either!” She looks around for cover, “Pel, get Ulli behind that pillar,” she shouts across the quicksand, before diving behind a fallen pillar herself.

“It’s coming from the tower!” shouts Jed.
“Thanks for that Jed, hon!” Tell me if someone shoots me, won’t you!” replies Kayrath sarcastically.
Torvaald runs next to her and starts to load his longbow.
“What is the meaning of this? We ask for an explanation for this injury,” shouts Torvaald, attempting to parlay with those in the tower.
“You any good with that thing?” asks Kayrath.
“I’m what most people call an “Excellent Shot”” he replies, aiming at the tower.
“Then I think you’re going to need it. Ullia, how about letting loose some of your wind up there!” shouts Kayrath, as Pel drags her husband behind the cover of a pillar.
“I think she means cast ‘Windblast’ in the watchtower, Mister Ullia,” shouts Jed.
As you watch the windows in the tower, figures appear at each, armed with crossbows…Dwarves. One fires at Kayrath, but Torvaald’s elbow knocks her down – the bolt would have gone clean through her neck (-1 Fate Point) She hits her head on a rock, knocking her unconscious.
A bolt flies at Jed and clatters against the stone. He pushes the now opened gate and steps inside into the shadows.
Torvaald takes aim at the dwarf that shot at Kayrath but his shot flies wide. Pel fires her crossbow from behind the pillar, hitting another in the arm.
Ullia pulls himself together and prepares to cast Wind Blast. When he is ready, he fires it at the tower. Those in the windows are blown backwards.

“Torvaald, Kayrath, through the gate, I’ll hold them off,” shouts Ullia.
Torvaald shoulders his bow and lifts Kayrath over his shoulder. She is surprising light and Torvaald moves as quickly as he can towards the entrance. From the side of the huge bronze head, appear another two dwarves, a male dressed in full plate and carrying an axe, the other a lithe female, dressed in black leather and holding two throwing knives. Before Torvaald can move, the female throws the knives at him. Luckily both miss, and he drops Kayrath, drawing his staff, dropping into a fighting stance. Pel leaves her husband’s side and charges to Torvaald’s aid, drawing her sword and leaping over the quicksand.

“Oh my,” says Jed, firing his sling at the dwarves and missing. Pel slashes out at the female who turns to face her, cutting across her belly, through the leather, meeting a mail shirt beneath. Torvaald faces off against the mail, failing to hit with his staff. The Dwarf attacks with great skill, the axe spinning, Torvaald dodges the first blow but it cut in the left leg (-2W) and then in the head (-6W)
The female draws a sword and attacks Pel who parries with her shield as best she can (-2W). A blow to the jaw knocks her to the ground unconscious (-1 Fate Point).

Torvaald is suddenly pushed aside as Kayrath springs to her feet. She snarls, feral-like at the Dwarven warrior before her, before bringing Hargrim’s axe to bare. The first is a massive strike to the dwarf’s gut, winding him. The second blow smashes into his rib cage, throwing him back 4 feet onto the steps. Her third blow follows through to attack the female, almost cleaving her arm off at the shoulder. The fourth blow swings into the other arm, cutting through it and into the chest, spraying blood.
“BITCH!” spits Kayrath, her hair matted across her face with mud and gore.

Coming to her senses, she looks back to see Ullia still blasting the tower, holding the others inside. Torvaald lifts Pel and nods to Ullia that she’s ok. Kayrath bounds up the steps, only pausing to finish the warrior with a blow to the neck, severing the head. Once everyone is inside, Ullia releases the wind and darts up the steps and inside.

“Can you lock it Jed?” asks Kayrath.
“I can,” says Ullia, taking out the Crystal and concentrating. A glowing chain of light appears from the crystal and wraps itself around the gate, “No-one can open that but me,” he grins.
“We better keep you alive then hon,” smiles Kayrath, pecking him on the cheek.
“Mistress Kayrath, we have company,” says Jed pointing through the bars.

The Three Dwarves from the tower are charging out and across the now solid quicksand, towards you. Quickly you head into the darkness, away from the gate.

Jed casts Glowing light on his helmet which lights the chambers and you see you are heading down a narrow hallway, covered in dust, gravel and sand. You see signs of past looting; mosaic tiles that once lined the walls have been pried out.

“These marks are far from fresh,” says Kayrath.
The corridor ends at a metal staircase, coated in orange rust, leading down into the complex. As you are far enough from the gate, you stop for a moment. Jed attends to Pel and bandages her head, bringing her round with sweet smelling herbs.
Ullia reassures her that you’re safe.

“I didn’t get chance to thank you for saving my life, Torvaald,” smiles Kayrath.
“You repaid the debt soon after. That warrior was about to slice me in half with that axe.”
“Just as well Hargrim’s Axe doesn’t mind biting the flesh of his own people,” she grins, wiping the blood from her blade.
“Who were they?” asks Ullia.
“Damned if I know. I was expecting the Coldfire Knights to show up, not these guys. They were serious warriors and they were expecting us!” says Kayrath.
“Right, we’d better get down these steps,” says Torvaald, “I’ll take the lead. If there are any traps, I should be able to spot them.”
“Man of many talents, aren’t you, hon?” smiles Kayrath.

Moving down the steps, he does indeed find a trap, a trip wire attached to a sack of rocks. Torvaald manages to disarm it and lower the rocks safely.

At the bottom of the stairs is a hallway, thirty feet long and well over two hundred feet wide. The floor is covered with volcanic rock, meaning the gap between you feet and the roof is little over 6 feet. With the exception of Jed, you all have to stoop.

There are faint traces of a once-grand dais at the bottom of the staircase, almost completely obscured by a carpet of pumice which fills the chamber. The hallway is also filled with the remains of those killed by the lava flow that destroyed the complex four thousand years ago. Petrified by rock and ash, there are 12 Dwarven figures all frozen in positions of panic, forever caught in the act of fleeing.

At the end of the hall is a circular section with four corridors leading off from it. There are no doors but hinges remain at the tops of the doorways, where the doors where presumably destroyed by the lava flow. Jed studies each in turn.

“By the look of this, the flow came from that corridor and flowed into the others,” he points to the northeast passage.
Kayrath peers into the corridor. You all hear a screeching a squealing emanating from the corridor.
“What’s that?” asks Pel.
“Rats,” hisses Kayrath.
“Great!” grunts Torvaald.

You head down the corridor and soon come to a chamber off to the left. There is no indication what the room was used for, the floor is covered by solid cooled lava. A number of rats hide from your light, in the corner of the room. Heading further up the corridor, you find a similar room on the right, with nothing of further interest.

Further up the corridor you find another similar chamber, but curled in the corner of this one is big white snake, probably about 8 feet long. It seems to detect your presence and starts to move towards you slowly.

“Stay behind, Doc!” Kayrath says, unsheathing her axe.

“Mister Ullia, perhaps a spell to send this serpent away might be in order?” says Jed to the Elven wizards, keeping one eye on the snake.

“There’s some dead dwarves outside, mister Snake! I’m sure they’d be a much easier meal than me!” says Kayrath, swaying from side to side, slowly spinning the axe in her hands.

“What a horrid thing to say, Miss Kayrath! Mmmm, that said I don’t want to end up in its belly!” says Jed, keeping a safe distance away.

“I think perhaps, this is my department,” says Torvaald, stepping between Kayrath and the snake and gently hissing, “Keep very still.”

Slowly, the snake lowers it head to the ground and slithers back to one corner.

“I suggest we leave it to its territory,” whispers Torvaald.

Moving on down the corridor, you pass another two similar chambers, without doors and with floors artificially raised by the now solid, molten lava that flowed through. As you reach the end of the corridor you are seized by a powerful feeling of frustration and anger. You all feel that a terrible mystery hangs over you and that all is lost unless you solve it.

The corridor opens into a large chamber, Jed’s lantern shining on four strange figures. Each figure is the rough size of a dwarf, but is grey and somewhat formless. One of them is shaking its arms at a second, which cowers behind the remains of a broken table. Another sits in a corner unmoving. The fourth faces a wall, which it occaisionally pounds with its fist. You all feel fear and Pel is frozen to the spot.

The figures don’t seem to notice you at all. As you cautiously move closer, you see the figures are made from dust, hair, cobwebs and dirt. Bits of string, thread, metal, ceramics and parchement dot these peculiar figures.

As you watch, the figure shaking its arms crosses behind the table and grabs at the one cowering behind it. That figure then jumps over the table, but the other grabs its heels, knocking it down so that its chest hits the upturned edge of the table. On impact, the ghost shatters into a cloud of dust and hair.

In reaction to the burst of violence, the two other ghosts stir from their positions, moving to trap the other in the corner. The two figures seem to be gesturing angrily at one another. You try to get their attention but to no avail.

Meanwhile, a much smaller figure coalesces out of thin coating of dust that lines one of the walls chamber’s walls, like peach fuzz. It grabs a broom and sweeps the dirt that was the ghost into a neat pile. Over a ten minute period, the ghost reforms then the sweepers throws itself against the wall becoming dust and cobwebs again.

“What the hell is this all about?” Kayrath looks in wonder, sheathing her axe, but keeping an eye out for any danger.
“It looks almost like souls trapped in a sort of torment!” Jed says, his voice wavering between sadness and terror at the sight in front of him.
“Just don’t make anything mad. I won’t be going very far,” says Pel, her face deathly white as she stares at the figures.
“Did Zockri mention anything about trapped souls?” Kayrath asks everyone on general.
“I don’t remember anything,” Jed offers, “But I do seem to recall that Mister Zockri commented upon the horrible deaths of all those Dwarfs in the strongholds as the apparatus exploded. Perhaps these…shapes..are all that is left of the Dwarfs responsible!”
“All that is left is their guild…”Kayrath muses.
“Terrible,” Jed comments.
“They seem to be replaying some scene,” says Ullia.
“Well, if that’s the case, perhaps we should see if they remember their names? Let’s see..there was Zockri the Elder, Wismag the Sagacious, Gotrek Starbreaker, Ulgruld the Odiferous, Burgmal Cleft-Pate and Frethrof the Astute. And not forgetting Zockri the Younger, of course…” says Kayrath, looking for some kind of response and seeing none.

“What if one of them DID sabotage the project? Perhaps that is what we are seeing here?!” Jed exclaims, turning to see your reactions. Ullia nods in agreement as the scene begins to replay again.
“My guess is the one cowering must have done something to the crystals to upset the others,” injects Pel, “I’m not sure yet what he did, but whatever he did he’s scared of the other Dwarfs, likely out of fear for his life.
“Well, unless anyone else has any better ideas, I suggest we start calling out a few name and see if we get any kind of response!?” says Kayrath.

Kayrath calls out the names one at a time but gets no response again.

“Jed, perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. Tune your vision to see the magical field – there is something here we are not seeing,” says Ullia, “I’ll watch the attacker, you watch the cowerer.”

<Using Magical Awareness, the two mages step close to and then merge with their chosen figures and have visions which they relay to the others afterwards. After the visions, the mages are forcible pushed away, only there own willpower protecting them from psychic damage>
ULLIA
You’re in a big room. The room is luxuriously appointed with statues of silver and gold and intricate tapestries. You stand at the head of the table. Your hand reaches out to pick up a long wooden pointer. You take the pointer and use it to underline passages on a chart. The chart is dense with mathematical calculations. On the four corners of the chart, you see the symbols of four elements. These are the same symbols that appear on the Crystals of Power.
You turn to look at the table. Sitting at the table are four other Dwarfs. One of them seems oddly familiar; it takes you a moment to realise that this is Zockri, looking young and healthy Another is very ugly; he gazes up at you with puppy-dog eyes of unabashed admiration. The third dwarf, wearing dishevelled clothing, spotted with chemical burns, is ignoring you, flipping through his own notes. The fourth, immaculately groomed and clad in expensive robes is taking notes, jotting down numbers in a ledger book.
The Dwarf in the burned clothing speaks up, his face distorted by obvious anger and jealousy, “Wrong wrong wrong!” he spits, “It is I who must lead this project, because I have no respect for your great authority, Wismag, you are a creature of the past, all bluster and no substance. All that matters is that I am right!”
You tremble with fury at this pipsqueaks audacity. “Ulgruld the Odiferous, keep your too-obvious ambition in check for just a moment. When our Crystals of Power usher in a new age of comfort and superior engineering, there will be glory enough for all!”

JED
You are walking beside a train of pack-mules, eleven laden with your research equipment, two more with your notes and one with your personal belongings. You are barely aware of the road, because you are looking through a pile of notes you have scribbled on scrap pieces of parchment. Your heart is pounding with excitement; you are travelling to a new place, where you will do great work with the great Wismag, founder of your field of academic study, alchemical engineering. If only you could find that note that you wrote! You have found a crucial flaw in one of his central theories and you wish to present it to him, as a young child would present an apple to his first teacher. How pleased the great Dwarf will be when he hears of its many implications for the Crystals of Power project.
Abruptly, you realise that the mules have stopped moving and look up. Have you arrived? Yes! You bound over to meet the researchers who have gathered to meet you. Behind them are the work crews whose excavation equipment is building Karak Vagno, according to the specifications of the renowned Wismag. And there is the great one himself, standing nobly and proudly at the head of the welcoming committee. Indeed, it is Wismag. You reach for your notes and immediately launch into your explanation of his error. He manages to contain his excitement and introduces you to your new colleagues, the young Zockri and the humble Burgmal Cleft-Pate.
The third colleague must be pulled away from a conference with a workman; he is dropping coins into the workman’s hand. You learn that this fellow is called Frethrof the Astute. But when you again begin to explain the mistake in Wismag’s calculations, he seems indifferent. There is something strange about this fellow, you decide.

"Interesting facts from history, Mister Ullia! Very fascinating...!" Jed says, beaming at the elf mage.

"Interesting as it may be, Jed hon, but how does that help us? Sure, it looks like Wismag's plan had a fatal flaw or two in it and he was too much of an arrogant know-it-all to see it!" Kayrath says, looking around for help from the party members.

"Or take heed of those he worked with?" Jed adds.

“I think Wismag is too proud to admit there was a mistake in his plans,” says Pel, “Whatever the mistake was, the cost was high. As time went on Ulgruid, at least that is who I am assuming the one with burned clothing is, he could no longer keep his idea of Wismag’s flaw to himself and eventually lost respect for the great Dwarf.”

"Mmm, so it looks like whoever did all those calculations got it a bit wrong. Either that, or someone altered the calculations to prove a point?"

"And the best candidate for that would be Ulgruid, perhaps?" the Doctor muses out loud.

"He'd be prime suspect..." Kayrath says, pouting and chewing on a fingernail for a moment.

"And who would be this Frethrof the Astute?" Jed says, "He was mentioned by Zockri but he seems more financially minded rather than a scientist?"

"Whatever he was, he is part of the group of four that we see here: Wismag the Sagacious, Ulgruid the Odiferous, Burgmal Cleft-Pate and Frethrof the Astute," Kayrath says, "all four died in the explosion apart from Zockri, remember."

"But which one is which? Mister Ullia became the attacker in this scene, who obviously is Wismag - and I became the one cowering, who is obviously Ulgruid," Jed says.

"Well it looks like Wismag 'kills' Ulgruid and then the other two seem to be having argument about what was done. But are they upset at Ulgruid being 'killed' or is it that they think that Ulgruid HAD found an error in Wismag's calculations?" Kayrath asks the party in general.

"Mister Ullia, it may be dangerous but I suggest that we try and ascertain the full story from the other figures in this scene as it might just prove to answer a few more questions!" Jed says to the elf, and prepares to use his Magical Awareness again on another of the dusty characters.

“What we need to do is figure out what the flaw is and how big an impact it had on the Crystals of Power,” adds Pel.

"IF it's safe enough and no-one has any better ideas...?" Kayrath asks around.

Torvaald says nothing, just looks at the scene before you. Jed and Ullia step up again to gain more visions watching the other two figures.

ULLIA
Your knuckles are white with anger and frustration. You stand in the meeting room of Karak Vagno, facing the other researchers. There is the petty tyrant, Wismag the Windbag. The annoying pedant, Ulgruid the Odiferous, who did not earn his sobriquet for nothing. The ineffectual young Zockri. And the sublimely repulsive Burgmal Cleft-Palate, a trickle of drool always on his lips. Why, that servant in the corner, sweeping away, has more common sense than these vaunted geniuses of alchemical engineering. You make a mental note to learn the boy’s name.
You would like some ale to calm your nerves. Just a sip, for the tongue. There is a flask of Gimli’s Most Potent Brew in the inner left hand pocket of your robe. You can feel it pressing against you. But you cannot reach for it. They have no taste, like most researchers. They wouldn’t know a truly fine ale if the cask rolled over them. They will also look askance at the richness of the gilding and the inlaid gems on your flask. It is not that you really care what these unwashed steel hammerers think of you; it is that the naïve distrust they display towards you makes your work more difficult.
For what seems like the thousandth time, you begin to explain it all. The calculations are important, and they will be completed on time, but there are other calculations to be made. Political calculations, monetary ones. The project requires many resources, from all over the Dwarf empire. The Elders must be convinced that it is worth risking it on an alchemical experiment, not matter how great the returns might be. Then there are the rival researchers , in other fields, whose work must be watched in case it overlaps or overtakes the crystals project. There is no-one trusts the new more than an Elder, with their love of the old ways. All of these matters require your absence from the complex for long periods of time.
You are tired of soothing these ignorant buffoons. If only you were back at Zonan’s quarters, quaffing the summer ale his daughter brings you. Instead, you are forced to stand and take it as the drool spattered Burgmal, having ignored all of your words, dares to scold you! How can you make the fools understand! Without you, there would be no project at all!
You open your robe and take a sip of ale anyway. Burgmal’s eyes pop out in righteous outrage. It does not matter. The stinking piece of tripe will never understand.

JED
Sweat glues the rough fabric of your robe to your back. You’re squirming in your chair, sat around a table bestrewn with parchments and diagrams, empty plates and tankards. Another interminable meeting. You want to speak up, but cannot. It is as if your whole life is one of those dreams where you want to move, but you’re tapped, stuck in a place like a toad caught in a hollow rock. But instead of wanting you to move, you want to talk. Your treacherous tongue betrays you. It’s afraid to say anything bad about your superiors. Flattery it can manage. Outright boot-licking, it’s expert at. But any hint of disagreement, and you’re paralyzed. Even for a matter this important as this.
Wismag, egotistical Wismag, hateful Wismag, is blathering away. He represents everyone and everything that frustrates you in this world, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but render obeisance to him. He’s engaged in yet another endless dispute with Ulgruid, who imagines that he’s caught the master out in some error. Ulgruid’s point is worthless – a mere semantic argument – yet he is as bold as a brass goblin in taking up everyone’s time with it! Young Zockri dutifully scribbles down every last detail of their meaningless dispute. And Frethrof, haughty Frethrof, is looking at you as if you are a heap of dung wafting noxious odours under his aristocratic nose!
You know that there is a serious error in all the alchemical formulae determining the dimensions of the crystals. You need to tell them, before it’s too late! Open your mouth Burgmal, speak! Speak!
Finally your tongue releases you from your agony and lets you speak. Relieved, you let your shoulders fall. You relax.
And then you hear yourself saying, “Wismag, you are so well-experienced with this field, as its illustrious founder, that ambitious Ulgruid wishes to polish his ego at your expense. It is clear to the rest of us that you are as sagacious as ever. When you said we should drop this matter and move along to the next item before us. I think you – I mean to say, you could not have been more right.”
Curses! Curses! How could your tongue betray you like that? Why insist on licking Wismag’s boots? Why can’t you ever say what is really on your mind? You hate yourself, hate yourself, hate yourself!

The two wizards step back, Will Power again protecting them from further mental stress.
You feel all the shades have more to tell.

Jed gathers his thoughts for a moment before speaking.

"It seems Mister Ullia, that you were in the persona of Frethrof the Astute!"

"And you must have been Burgmal Cleft-Pate, Doc!" Kayrath says before going back to her own thoughts.

"Indeed! And it seems that Burgmal also had noticed a miscalculation in the workings of Wismag - but was too over-awed to say anything!"

"And Frethrof, like all bean counters, was simply concerned about the finances - no matter what the disastrous outcome may be!" Kayrath sighs.

"And did Frethrof's spirit happen to mention the boy's name who is doing the sweeping by any chance?" Jed asks Ullia.

"So let's think guys, from what we've seen and heard, Wismag is attacking Ulgruid and then once his body is destroyed and swept up by the unknown boy, the other two start having an argument - Frethrof about the costs no doubt and Burgmal about the miscalculations he has discovered. I wonder if they are the same miscalculations that Ulgruid found?" Kayrath muses.

"From the previous information we found out, it would indeed seem that Frethrof didn't know or indeed care, about the calculations - he was concerned about the money. And Burgmal did seem to be very much of a 'Yes' man - so he also would be unlikely to sabotage the project."

"Who was the other one mentioned by Zockri anyway - Gotrek Starbreaker, wasn't it?" Kayrath asks the party in general.

"I believe Zockri referred to him as the 'vaunted', Miss Kayrath, so I assume he was simply a senior figure in the Dwarfhold. Perhaps he was not present at the time of these discussions?" Jed says.

"If Frethrof and Burgmal weren't likely candidates for sabotage - assuming there was any - then that surely means that Wismag and Ulgruid are the only candidates. AND, if Burgmal AND Ulgruid have both spotted errors in the calculations, then it must be Wismag who has either through his own arrogance ignored the errors made plain to him, or has deliberately sabotaged the project!"

"Does that mean he might have been aligned with the dark forces of Chaos, Miss Kayrath, to bring down the Dwarf cities?" Jed asks a shiver running down his spine.

"Dunno, Doc honey, but it is an option! What I don't get is what we are supposed to do with these facts! I mean, these dwarfs are long dead - so what does it matter now!?"

"Does the one crystal tell us anything more Mister Ullia?" Jed asks, somewhat stumped at what to do now.

“Is there any way we could try and find the plans and the worker’s notes?” asks Pel.
“I doubt that,” says Ullia, “Everything seems to have been destroyed.”

“I suspect that these spirits are restless because of what has happened,” says Torvaald, “Perhaps allowing them to tell the tale and solving the problem of who betrayed the project will allow them peace.”
“I agree there,” replies Ullia, looking at the crystal, “The Stone is giving no clues. Jed, I suggest we try again and see what more they will tell. I suggest we try Wismag and Ulgruid again as they have been singled out as candidates of this heinous crime.”

Once more Jed and Ullia step up and project themselves into the spectres.

Ullia (Wismag)
You walk down a richly appointed hallway carrying an iron lantern to illuminate your path. You open a door and enter a laboratory. Inside, scribbling away at a set of notes, is Ulgruid the Odiferous, the Dwarf you confronted before. He starts, hiding the documents he is working on. Is that the mark of Tzeentch you see in the margins? You move forward, reaching for his notes. He turns red and slaps your hand away.
“Back, you old fool!” he shouts, “I am going to eclipse you, and will not let you steal my best ideas from me. You think you control this project, but you don’t! When the final die is cast, it will be my research that makes the crystals work! Your name will be forgotten and I will be remembered not as Ulgruid the Odiferous but Ulgruid the Over-Ruling!”

Jed (Ulgruid)
You are sitting in a study carrel, poring over reams of parchment. The documents are covered in calculations made in a neat, elegant hand. You rub you tired, watery eyes. The papers are illuminated by one of those new oil-less lanterns, and the notations on them are beginning to swim together before your eyes. A crushing weariness descends upon you. You yawn, stretch back in your chair and –
The door to the chamber opens. You hear a voice. Startled, you fall backwards in your chair, landing painfully on your back. The back of your skull hits the stone flooring. The flimsy wooden chair groans under your weight and breaks.
You look up into a smirking face. It is Frethrof the Astute, standing over you, making no effort to help you to your feet.
“What are you doing in my chamber, Ulgruid?
A feeling of shame floods through you, even though it is not you who is in the wrong. You have been checking Frethrof’s calculations. He is hardly ever in Karak Vagno these days, and you are worried that he is not paying enough attention to his work.
“Double checking,” you hear yourself mutter.
“Worry about your own work, Ulgruid.”
You struggle to your feet, your head pounding. It hit the floor with quite a thump.
“It is very important that these calculations be entirely correct, Frethrof, accurate to the thousandth degree.”
“It is also important that we continue to obtain materials we need. It is improtant that Gotrek Starbreaker understands the importance of this project. You refuse to understand that our research is only part of our worries. I will attend to the calculations in due time – but they will not matter is Gotrek is convinced our project is worthless or dangerous.”
You lean against Frethrof’s desk, your head pounding in pain, “Just make sure you..”
“Get out of my chamber, Ulgruid. I have been on the road for many hours and now must sleep.”

"Sounds like Ulgruid could have been the culprit then, if it really was a symbol of Tzeentch in his workings! Remember, that's who our Beastman friends seemed to worship when we met up with them!" the Doctor says, somewhat excitedly.

"Yep, would seem that way Doc - if we can believe what Wismag saw! That said, it did seem that Ulgruid was becoming obsessed with having power!" the Elf pouts in response, leaning on her axe and feeling an overwhelming urge to be done with this ghostly pantomime.

"But then my visions with Ulgruid don't convey the feelings of someone wanting to bring down an entire Dwarf civilisation!" Jed muses, scratching his head.

"Y'know, fascinating as this is, I can't see how this helps us or allows us to know what to do next with the crystal?" Kayrath asks the party.

"Perhaps Mister Ullia and myself need to delve even more deeply. What do you think Mister Ullia?" Jed asks the Elven mage.

“Ullia and Jed can’t keep this up for long I’m sure. Is there another way we can figure this out?” Pelgaliel

“Seems to be only way,” shrugs Ullia, “I understand your concern, Pel, but we can handle this.”

As Jed and Ullia re-enter the ghostly figures of Wismag and Ulgruid, Kayrath sits down with her axe at the ready. Torvaald stands by impassively.

ULLIA (Wismag)
You are standing in a great octagonal hall lined with sheets of gold, decorated with ornate runes of extraordinary complexity. You consult a gigantic, water-powered timing device. When the time is right, you proudly signal to the others. The fresh-faced researcher places a golden lattice is an even larger device festooned with levers and flywheels. The lattice has four holes in it, each the size of one Crystal of Power.
An apprentice places the Crystal of Earth in the lattice. The ugly researcher places the Crystal of Fire in the lattice. Finally the trouble making one named Ulgruid, steps up to the device to place the Crystal of Water in the lattice. You can’t help but feel there is something wrong with Ulgruid’s expression. He radiates jealousy and spite. But, after another quick check of the timing machine, you step forward and reach for the main lever on the crystal energy projector, pulling it down.
The room erupts in fire. The last sight you see is the vindictive, duplicitous visage of Ulgruid the Odiferous. Then you are destroyed in a wave of red hot lava.
Ullia screams as he is thrown out of the spirit, but he suffers no undue effects.

JED (Ulgruid)
You are shaking with excitement. You stand in an octagonal chamber, its walls lined with enourmous devices of your design. You touch the sides of the main engine, the energy projector. Its copper sides are hot to the touch, but you caress it anyway. As if a treasured pet – nay, as if it were your own child. You have solved the great problems of the age, and will be remembered forever.
Wismag begins the countdown, his steady hand on the activating lever. Although he is his unusual unsmiling self, you can tell that he secretly admires you for turning his vague theories into hard, coppersheathed reality. It is now time to place each of the crystals in the special lattice you have created for the projector. The lattice keeps the Crystals separate - for it would be disastrous if the came into contact with each other – yet allows their energies to mingle. It is crucial to the operation of the device.
First Burgmal’s young apprentice places the Crystal of Earth in the lattice. Then Burgmal adds the Crystal of Fire. Now it is your turn, Carefully, reverently, you place the Crystal of Water in the lattice. Finally, Frethrof steps forward. He seems to take a moment, as if lost in a daydream. He sets the Crystal of Air in its place in the lattice. Wismag, his fatherly eyes upon you, pulls the lever.
The energy projector begins to shake. You look at the lattice. Drops of strange condensation appear on the golden surface. It is beginning to melt! Something is wrong! Heart in your mouth, you leap forward, knocking the Crystals from the lattice.
Everything seems to slow down. The crystals travel slowly through the air. You turn and fall, looking at Frefthrof, His face is a picture of surprise and shame.
“The calculations!” you shout (or do you only have time to think it?) “You fool, you never..”
Then there is only flame, as you are consumed.

Jed steps careful from the spirit and seeing Ullia thrown, runs to help him up.

“It seems Wismag had no idea why it went wrong, though he suspects Ulgruid,” comments Ullia, catching his breath.
“Ulgruid is equally unaware, though there is something Frethrof failed to do. Perhaps he is to blame here. We should enter the other spirits and see the rest of their side of the story.”

Jed enters Burgmal and Ullia enters Frethrof, remaining to hear the whole story.

ULLIA (Frethrof)
You are awake on a carved stone bed, your head hurting in the way it has of reminding you that last night you were drinking large amounts of the finest ales. You think back to the evening: matching Zonon pint for pint, listening to tales of fighting green-skins in the World’s Edge Mountains in his youth, and his stories of incidents, as an advisor to Gotrek Starbreaker. He tells them well, and you listen attentively. There is much you can learn from him.
There is a knock at the door, and the voice of a servant outside: “Master Frethrof, Zonon Goldfinder wishes you to join him for breakfast. He wishes to speak with you on several matters.”
This is why you are here, you think as you pull on fresh clothes and comb your beard. Dwarfs never talk of serious business before the ale is brought. Will this be the matter of the extra thirty skilled engineers needed to work on the crystal energy receivers in Karaz-a-Karak, or perhaps the more senstive matter of a suitable husband for his daughter, Ariata?
You hurry down the large stone staircase towards Zonon’s council-room. He sits pensively in his chair, idly toying with the pieces of a board game, the morning meats growing cold on the table. You are worried about Zonon: he has taken to brooding lately.
“Frethrof,” he says, standing, “Thank you for honouring an old man and coming quickly. I am suddenly consumed by a doubt about this project of yours. You keep saying that it is safe, and on your assurance I have given my word to Gotrek Starbreaker.”
“Your support has been essential to the success of the project, old friend,” you say, inwardly you begin to worry. What vein is he mining here?
“You say it is safe but what about these researchers you employ? What do you really know about them? They are not from the families that built our empire are they? I have heard there are worshippers of Chaos abroad in the land, undermining our institutions, threatening our way of life. How do you know there is no saboteur in your group?”
You placate Zonon, knowing that his anxieties are without foundation. But even as you do so, an image of the hideous, slobbering Burgmal Cleft-Pate rises unbidden in your mind. Everyone knows that there are people with bad blood in them and that poor breeding can be detected in the features and in the person’s manners. As the saying goes, “An ugly face covers and ugly soul.” You resolve to keep a closer eye on this creature from now on.

JED (Burgmal)
If your tongue is always going to betray you, you’re going to have to find another way to get through to Wismag. Your fingers, they won’t play false with you. That’s it. You can write it down. On the plans for the projecting device. You can creep into the workshop – no, not creep. Walk. Walk. You have every right to go into the workshop. You are as qualified a researcher as anyone else. They are your equals. You have every right. Very well then, Burgmal. Get up from your bench right now and walk towards the workshop. There is nothing shameful in this.
There you go. You’re in the workshop. No one else here. Of course not, it’s the middle of the night! But that doesn’t matter. It’s not that you’re sneaking about. You’ve simply thought of something, and you’ve come here to jot it down before you forget. Yes. That’s it. And then when Wismag notices the changes, he’ll recognise your hand and he’ll ask you about it and you’ll boldly speak up. Yes, boldly. You will have nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of. This is why you are hear, to contribute your knowledge. You are not afraid of Wismag. Not afraid.
Now the plans are in your hand. Your hands should not be shaking like this. There is no reason for them to shake. There. They stopped. You made them stop. Because you are in control. Burgmal. You are doing the right thing. You are going to conquer your damnable need to flatter Wismag. You are Wismag’s equal. You have the right to speak up to Wismag.
Just make the correction. Burgmal! Make the correction and maybe you’ll get some sleep tonight! Where is it? Think clearly, Burgmal, clearly – it’s the ten-degree differential in the containment factor. There! You’ve noted it! Done, now you can –
What’s this? Someone else has already made extensive corrections to the plans. You don’t recognise the hand. But – whoever it is, they’re right. They’ve found a nine-degree increase in efficiency, twice as good as what you found. If only you’d had the guts to speak up before! Now you’ve been left behind, all because of your unforgivable cowardice!
You slump into the desk, pounding it with your fist, your face red with anger. You are a fool Burgmal! A fool, a failure and a disgrace to your lineage!

ULLIA (Frethrof)
A knock on your chamber at Karak Vagno. It is the boy, the servant Engmeld. “The others are waiting. It is time,” he says
Accompanied by Engmeld, you head to the testing chamber. The young fellow seems preoccupied; he’s no doubt worried that his master, the loathsome Burgmal, will dismiss him once the crystal project succeeds. Burgmal will then be able to afford a dozen such servants. It is typical of an oaf like Burgmal to mistreat a loyal servant. It is a shame, the boy has potential, definite potential. You have tried to convince him that the future for a bright, ambitious lad lies not in research, but in the affairs of state. You have offered to assist him in finding a lucrative position for himself, if he can merely do you a couple of favours in the laboratory of a rival, which would benefit him as much as you. But your advice has gone unheeded; the boy dreams of being a researcher and engineer, just like the odious Burgmal. You shrug there is only so much you can do to help a person who will not help himself.
You enter the chamber, where the others are waiting. You look around at all of the equipment, reminding yourself how expensive it was. A full third of the money raised is in the form of short-term loans; if this experiment fails, your next few months will be spent placating nervous nobles, coaxing them into extending their loans. This had better work.
Engmeld places the Crystal of Earth in this place on the apparatus. Then Ulgruid inserts the Crystal of Water. As you step forward and place the Crystal of Air into the machine. Burgmal glares at you, slobber dripping from his grotesquely distended lips. The disgusting fool has been watching you, and is no doubt offended that your attention has wandered. If only he understood what was really at stake here!
Wismag touches the lever and you make a quick prayer to Grungni, you ancestors god, for success.
As the lever falls, the complex begins to shake. The machines rattle themselves apart. It is hot, so hot – like flame! The last thing you see as the chamber fills with steam is the ecstatic face of Burgmal. An agent of Chaos – you can read it on his ghastly features! As your body is melted in a sudden eruption of molten rock, you have time for one last thought: you should have paid heed to Zonon’s warnings.

JED (Burgmal)
The day has come. The entire group has gathered in the testing chamber, save for Zockri and Wismag. Zockri, of course, is in the receiving chamber in a faraway Karaz-a-Karak. King Gotrek Starbreaker at his side. And Wismag – the haughty swine must wait until the last minute, to sweep illustriously into the room and grace his underlings with his presence!
Here he comes now! Before you know it, you’re in the midst of a scraping bow, and you’re saying, “Wismag, the day is upon us. Your heart must be swelled with pride, at the history you are about to make today.”
“Quite correct,” says Wismag. You continue to flatter him, as your colleagues look on in obvious disgust. Frethrof seems quite literally nauseous at the sight of you and well he should be. What a toady you are! Finally Wismag consults the timing machine and signalling that the process should begin. You place the Crystal of Fire in the golden lattice that keeps the four Crystals separated from the projecting machine. Ulgruid places the Crystal of Water, Frethrof installs the Crystal of Air. And finally Wismag himself adds the Crystal of Earth.
There is but a brief moment of calm before the chamber begins to rumble and shake. Instinctively, you know that you are doomed. Finally your tongue is loosened and you can say what you have always wanted to say:
“Wismag, you cretin! You ignored my…”
Then you are destroyed.

As you talk the scene continues to replay and it is only then that you notice a fifth figure that you saw when you first came into the room. The figure is much smaller than the others and coalesces out of thin coating of dust that lines one of the walls chamber’s walls, like peach fuzz. As each figure is destroyed it grabs a broom and sweeps the dirt that was the ghost into a neat pile. Over a ten minute period, the ghost reforms then the sweepers throws itself against the wall becoming dust and cobwebs again.

“THE FIFTH FIGURE!” shout Ullia and Jed together jumping to catch the thing before it disappears. Jed is fastest and steps into the figure.

You are a child, four years of age. Your father stumbles, bruised and bloody, into the room where your family is sat. You ask what has happened to him. Your mother swats you. “Learn to mind your business, sprat!”
You are a little older, perhaps nine years. Something is going on; your parents are packing in a hurry, throwing possessions, clothes, weapons, tools into a sack. They’re going somewhere. You want to ask where, but you know that you will only get swatted for your trouble. You beg to come with them, but your mother refuses to let you. “You’ll only be a burden, where we’re going. Make your own way, like we had to do.” They go. It’s only an hour later, when the watch arrives with axes and stern faces, that you realize you’ll never see them again.
You are outside the workshop of Hagbold, sitting underneath a window as the great scholar lectures his apprentices inside. You have to strain to hear, but the words are music to your ears. Alchemy. Science. Engineering. You wonder why he has to repeat things so many times. You understand everything perfectly. Then you hear footsteps and reluctantly – for Hagbold has just now reached the interesting part – you take to your heels to avoid the shame of being caught. Dwarfs have little time for orphans.
You are dogging Hagbold himself. Begging to be his servant. Extolling your virtues as a worker Naming a very low price. To no avail – he has no time for a street boy. You sense that he is a little afraid of you. Never mind. You keep asking. You will ask them all until some engineer or researcher accepts you.
Now it is Burgmal you are following. A pathetic figure – ugly, lisping, drooling. But he is the only learned dwarf in this Hold that you have yet to ask. If he turns you down, you will have to journey through the wilderness, braving Goblins and Orcs, to find another place to learn. But – Burgmal is stopping! He’s listening to your proposal” He’s nodding. Handing you his books to carry! Success! You’re not an apprentice yet – merely a servant – but one day! One day!
You are a year older. You are sweeping the floor of Burgmal’s modest home. He sits in a corner, brooding, lost in his own private sorrow, or anger, or frustration. He will not share it with you. He scarcely answers your questions about his work. You are learning nothing. Getting no closer to your goal.
Another year older. You arrive in the Yetzin Valley lugging Burgmal’s belongings into an underground tunnel. The tunnel will soon be an advanced complex for the practical application of the alchemical engineering. Your heart is singing! There will be other researchers! One of them will give you the chance you crave! You will be an engineer yet!

Jed steps out as the vision ends, exhausted. Waiting for the next appearance, Jed steps in again.

You sit in the private chamber of one of the researchers, Frethrof the Astute. During your many months in Karak Vagno, he is the only one who has taken any notice of you. None of his colleagues have even bothered to learn your name, When Frethrof invited you to speak with him, you thought that you had finally reached your goal – he was going to make you his apprentice. The more he talks, though, the more dejected you become. He doesn’t want to make you a researcher. He wants you to become a spy.
“You’re a bright lad, I can tell,” he says, “So open your eyes and look around you. Is it really the researchers who matter? Do they have the power? You think of them ask chieftains of learning, because your own beginnings were humble. I understand that. But I was born to a high family, Engmeld, and I can tell you that the world looks very different from where I sit. To the Dwarfs who really matter, even the great Wismag is a speck, a Dwarf with no history to his line, and with just one useful trick to perform.”
“Take the long view, Engmeld. Once the project is completed. Wismag and the others will be unnecessary. It is not about science or engineering, it is about advantage. The king will regulate this new source of energy, and attention will shift from Karak Vagno to the workshops there. What you see here is just the prelude. Do you understand me?”
You nod. You feel your chin wobbling. You thrust out your jaw to stop this embarrassing display of emotion. Nonetheless, Frethrof sees through you.
“You are sad because you have a dream, and you want to see it realized. I understand that. What I am telling you is that there are better dreams for a lad of your ambition. Let me install you as a servant at Zonon’s household. There is no danger in what I propose. For the next few months the engineer Gisward Firebringer is staying with him. If you can keep an eye on him for me, noting his work, seeing who he meets with, the possibilities for advancement are unlimited. For you and me both.
You say to Frethrof, “So this means you will not let me be your apprentice.”
“Apprentice? Listen to me boy!” Frethrof groans, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “ I need an apprentice like I need the red pox! What I need is a smart lad in Zonon’s house!”
You tell him that you will think upon the things he has said, but you are already planning to run away from Karak Vagno, the place where all of your dreams have died.

Jed almost falls out of the ghost, dropping to his knees. Ullia helps him up, “I..I must see again..just one more,” the Halfling whispers, his face pale.
“Jed honey, I’m not so sure,” says Kayrath, stepping to help him.
“I have to,” Jed mutters and stumbles forward again as the ghost reappears.
You are running through the woods. Exhausted, out of breath, your heart pounding like it’s ready to burst. You didn’t bring food or water. What were you thinking, running away like that? There was nothing holding you there. You could have left of your own accord at a sane pace, during the day, with proper supplies.
You hear a noise. Your legs are pulled out from under you; you are flipped head over heels and yanked upwards into the trees. You dangle upside down, tied at the ankles by some kind of rope. You’ve stepped into a snare of some kind. You hang there for a long time, regretting your rashness. Surely the snare has been left by Goblins, and you expect to be murdered when they catch you. You ask yourself if Goblins really eat Dwarfs, like the stories say.
Finally someone comes to inspect the trap. You can’t believe your eyes. It’s Eloprad, one of your father’s confederates from long ago! He used to dandle you on his knee, and now here he is, in the forest of the Yetzin Valley!
You are in Eloprad’s camp, eating a plate of hot beans. Never has a meal been so delicious. Eloprads wife, Ojora, is there as well: she was like and aunt to you back in the old days. Over the next few days, travelling together, you unburden everything to her, tell her that you are lost, your hopes in ruins. You remark on the coincidence of finding her and Eloprad here, as fugitives from Dwarven justice.
Ojora leans forwards and whispers, “That weren’t no coincidence.”
She tells you that she and Eloprad belong to a group, a confederacy with members everywhere, across the world, among other races. “Your parents wouldn’t join, so they had no protection when they got caught. Our group, had its eyes on you for a long time, Engmeld. Perhaps since before you were born. There’s things you can do for the world. Great things you can learn. There’s more to the science of the world than what them researchers teach you.”
She brings you to Keeler, another member of Eloprad’s band, one who will tutor you in the mysteries.
Finally, you are learning. Poring over charts and diagrams. Circles and pentagrams. Learning invocations. The secrets of the Universe.
Everything Keeler can teach you, you quickly learn, Keeler tells you that he must introduce you to a new tutor. This tutor must conjured up.
The stench of brimstone is in your nostrils. The tutor is before you. It is winged and warted and feathered, like a great misshapen vulture. It tells you that it is a chi’ khami’ tzann tsunoi. You may address it as the Feathered Lord. Its eyes pierce you, know everything about you. “There is a spell I must teach you,” it tells you, “A spell of numbers. In order to make proper use of this spell, you must return to Karak Vagno.”

Jed is physically thrown from the ghost of Engmeld as the vision ends, he is pale and exhausted, but still in one piece as he relates the vision to you.