Session #97
24 H’rarmont (12:00)
After defeating the draconians, you search the rest of the mine to discover that the other entrances have been sealed by fallen rocks.
Although Hermes is inspecting the map of the underground river you found, he would need some assistance in getting his bearings.
Le Nordais approaches and determines that the entrance of the underground river is more north on the map.
As you exit the mine courtyard, what greets you is a stark contrast—crisp wind and the wide, unforgiving expanse of the Garnet Mountains.
Sharp peaks of the Garnet Mountains rise like broken spears into the sky. The terrain here is harsh—jagged rocks, steep ledges, and narrow trails that snake along cliffs with fatal drops.
While heading south-east following the path, you hear a roar and see a Shadow looming above. You look up… and there it is.
A blue dragon soars high above the peaks, its wings spread wide like sails of death, casting a shadow that crawls across the mountainside.
Its flight doesn’t seem random. It is circling with purpose—searching, scanning.
You can see its head pivoting left and right as it follows some unseen trail… perhaps a scent, … perhaps you.
Ahead, a narrow ledge drops into a shallow ravine filled with pine and frost-bitten brush. Boulders and gnarled trees might offer cover…
A second roar rips through the air—closer this time. You run for the cover for the trees and are not noticed. The dragon and his rider continues more south and flies away out of sight.
As you move in closer, you are drawn to the far side of the lake. There, sprawled across sun-bleached stone, lies the skeleton of a very large creature. Massive. Twisted, its skull half-buried, jaws open in a final roar of agony.
What remains of its wings are nothing more than warped spines. Claw marks and impact scars suggest it crawled here, mortally wounded.
No scavengers, no sounds of wild life. No signs of life. Only quiet.
The remains is from a adult size dragon.
As you investigate the carcass, a sudden ripple disturbs the water. Then another. A third.
A low hum begins to build beneath your feet, like the deep, watery drone of something waking.
The water darkens. Bubbles rise. A spiral of glowing blue light swirls outward from the middle of the lake.
Without warning, the lake erupts. A towering form of liquid and armor surges from the depths, its body formed of churning water, armor plates clinging to its limbs. Where its face should be, only a mask of glistening pressure and elemental fury. Its trident gleams with dripping menace as it lets out a soundless, crushing roar.
Combat starts with this water type creature. After a few minutes, An arrow whistles from the other side of the lake. Thunk! Injuring the creature, passes right through its shoulder.
A few of you notice that an arrow whistles from the other side of the lake.
Up on the rocks, half-shadowed by the trees, a figure stands tall, lean, cloaked in leathers and feathers, a longbow already drawn. His face is weathered by sun and wind, his sharp eyes locked on the creature before you.
Without a word, he moves—sliding down, leaping over a boulder, nocking another arrow before his boots even touch the ground and lands on the shoreline, another arrow flies and strikes the creature.
You hear a voice, calm and low, between the chaos: “Keep its attention. I’ve got its flank.”
After the fight with the water creature has concluded, From the trees lining the slope above, the figure emerges—tall, lean, and cloaked in the greens and browns of the wild.
A longbow still in hand, he steps forward with grace, boots making barely a sound on the rocky ground. His voice, though quiet, carries clearly.
Tyvar: “You fight well, friends. I had hoped to reach you sooner, but fate clearly had other plans.”
Dorren immediately recognizes that the elf has clan tattoos of the Kagonesti.
(The Kagonesti are the original wild elves of Krynn, from whom all other elven clans descend. During the Age of Dreams, while some elves embraced civilization and built cities, the Kagonesti rejecting urban life to live in harmony with nature. Seen as primitive by other elves, they are independent, rugged, and fiercely traditional.
Physically, Kagonesti are lean, muscular, and deeply tanned, typically just over five feet tall. They wear leather, adorn themselves with feathers, silver jewelry, and tattoos (believed to ward off evil), and are known for their hunting skills and strong connection to the wild. They worship gods of light and neutrality, respect the Beast Lords.)
The elf looks towards Dorren... "Greatings Cousin... My name is Tyvar Kell of the Kagonesti from Southern Ergoth. I’ve been tracking you since Hillhome, then by your trail through the mountains. Your path hasn’t been easy to follow.”
Tyvar steps closer, reaching beneath his cloak to retrieve a scroll bound with silver thread and marked with three elven seals. He holds it out with care.
Tyvar: “I carry this by order of the Elven Speakers and with the blessing of Alhana Starbreeze herself. It is not mine to open—only one among you may do so. Within are words meant to guide your next steps… and to bind us together, if you’ll have me.”
The Scroll can be opened only by Le Nordais.
Tyvar’s gaze drifts to the lake, and the dragon’s bones resting along the shore line and he says : “There are old forces at work in these lands—some long buried, others waking again. If you’ll permit it, I would walk with you… and stand beside you in what comes.”
Your trust in Alhana is strong, so you seem to accept Tyvar within the group, but with some reservation.
You manage to finally find the opening to the underground river.
The tunnel opens into a vast subterranean chamber, its stone walls carved by centuries of ancient craftsmanship. Stout stone pillars line both sides of the river, supporting a vaulted ceiling that disappears into darkness.
The architecture suggests dwarven—each column etched with faded geometric patterns, partially worn by time.
The river itself is calm and eerily silent, its dark waters flowing slowly through the cavern. A small wooden boat is tied near the water’s edge, bobbing gently.
Subtle golden light filters from sconces embedded into the cavern walls, casting warm reflections on the slick stone.
The air is cool and still.. and a current seems strong and constant.
After about a few hours of boating (16h00), In the distance you can the echoing sounds of water as a low rumble builds into a thunderous roar, echoing through the tunnel. The mist clings to the air, and the river ahead churns with chaotic, flashing currents—wild, fast, and unforgiving. Your boat starts to advance at an accelerated rate.
The current is strong and you travel much faster. When going around a curved area of the river, at a fast pace approaches a swarm of bats that attack you while in the boat.
A few more hours pass (19h00), and you can see that about 500 feet away a series of 3 large, spiked chains attached on each side and cross the water.
You have about two rounds to find a way to avoid the chains as they will most likely, at this speed, severely damage you boat.
24 H’rarmont (19:00)
