The battle against the Darkscale Syndicate continues...
Having finished the trials, the party returns to Tinnervale...
The trials of Mordos, proctored by Morden, continue...
The moral dilemma continues... The dragon cannot beat back the darkness without sacrifice.
After some delays outside the pit, the party looks to deal with the dragon once and for all...
Two out of three artifacts retrieved. One angry dragon left...
Ruh roh... There's a Cracked Iron Flind.
Having discovered that the kobolds likely held one artifact while a dragon held the other, the party would try to acquire both artifacts...
Having acquired the Phantom Key, the party seeks out methods to acquire the Chrono Compass and the Astral Map...
The party joined the rally at the Primarch's speech, only to discover many nefarious activities afoot...
As the sun beamed high in the sky, the party stood at the threshold of the Whitestone Barracks, their resolve as steadfast as the ancient stones themselves. Having uncovered the tragic fate of the missing courier at the Reflecting Stream and thwarted the deadly charms of Cleemo the Rusalka, they now sought the elusive "barefoot bandit," believed to be conspiring with a discontented soldier within the city's own ranks. The vital missive, still missing, held secrets that could sway the tides of power in Dawnhold. Tonight, amidst the echoing corridors of the barracks, they would confront Jored Kor, peel back the layers of treachery, and recover the lost words that bore unknown consequences.
As the eve of Jundar yields to the dawn of Julsun, champions across the breadth of Thallindor stir, roused by the clarion call of their nations. From the verdant sweep of Aethoria to the imposing heights of Brakkar Hold, the haunted wastes of Valestria, the indomitable bastions of Cragmoor, and the sun-scorched expanses of Zephyria, a gathering of heroes is summoned to the fortress of Dawnhold. The occasion? An emergency conclave convened under the hallowed light of Selenday. The stakes? Nothing less than the fate of the continent, the very soul of Arendor.