A New Land

And so there we were, atop the tower of Varunmund... in the bleak future.
 
Yrna obliged, wild shaping into a giant eagle to carry everyone -- save the flying Izol -- down to the ground. She returned to her humanoid form, and we set off for the herbalist's hut in Karkasa's Pass. That is, if she and her hut are still around.
 
The world is broken and baren, a mix of white and orange with little to no life around. The air is still with floating snow, and everything seems unreal. As we found the herbalist's hut, it was in a similar state: broken in disrepair. The inside of the hut is full of cobwebs; it's been a least many years.
 
And in her rocking chair the dead herbalist sits, gone from this plane of living and atrophied over the years.
 
Nothing is as it was.
 
 

"How long have we been gone?"

 
Theo and Murg could figure out that decades have passed, though how many remains to be seen. The herbalist (and her human "pet") were taken by sickness. A plague? From around Theo's neck the intelligence of Varunmund reached out to us, asking what was amiss. When asked, it guessed that the herbalist's hut has been bent through time by the tower. If it is right, we stand in the current time of Ibrithil -- the area around Varunmund (perhaps the entire island) was held in a previous time. Destroying the tower "sped up" time to current.
 
Hopefully that means everyone is well in Bezia and Arcadia (and greater Vhaal).
 
Izol fiddled with his arcane lighter. We decided to clean up the hut a bit and setup Theo's tiny hut, settling in for a few hours. Steel made a temporary work space in the hut, using it first to cast identify on Izol's magic lighter -- it is enchanted with lesser silence, silencing and deafening anything within 5 feet of it. Then the artificer took to his own tools, a worried look on his face.
 
Within the tiny hut Theo looked at the contested infernal lockbox. Not opening it. he translated the writing on the outside as a crude warning and insult to all who look upon the box. He had Murg identify the box for magical means. There was nothing, so Theo called Izol over. While he waited for our hot-headed chef to finish making dinner, Murg and Theo discussed fabricate and creating a reliquary. Our cleric needs to plate the reliquary in gold, for ritual purposes, and wanted to figure out how. Calling Steel over, the artificer puzzled over the request. "I would need a forge," he apologized; Theo went through with the fabrication regardless. It wasn't perfect, but theoretically Steel could use his tools to clean up the work. But that wasn't all: Murg asked (and received) a fabricated platinum bowl with etchings of Abadar's golden monkey ("see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil").
 
 

Tired sands

Theo recieved a message, through the speaking sands bag. It was, unfortunately, Alexia Ducati. She "checked-in" before cutting to the chase. We need to return to Fort Richter to speak with her in Excellion. Since we were over a week's travel away, she deemed that plan impossible. So Theo was given the short notes on a need-to-know basis. An individual in her Inquisitorius connected to the Living Gate. He failed whatever he wanted to achieve, but the gate's hold increased sevenfold. Ducati insists we return to Excellion via Fort Richter. Theo managed to get a word in sideways, throwing enough doubt at Ducati's wishes to give her pause. She gave up, giving us practically free choice on the matter.
 
Over food, we discussed what to do. Though Theo couldn't cast teleportation freely, Varunmund mentioned it could sacrifice mythicite to open a gate between planes (to take us to Excellion).
 
We agreed to stay on our current course: tackling Ibrithil anticlockwise to collect the giants' relics and end up in Chillmoon Tower. We would stop at Fort Richter just before the tower (to close the gate within). For now, we will head to Wander Hall to check in before climbing Hatewind Peak.
 

Watching Francis

With the platinum bowl, Murg ask Abadar to reveal Francis, our bear, to us. And with his bowl he saw: Francis curled up in a cave covered in ice. He doesn't seem to be in danger, keeping watch on the outside. Perhaps hibernating, due to the amount of bones and food consumed.
 
Theo followed up with a sending, speaking to Francis directly. As Murg watched Francis heard us. To our joy he stood up (in Murg's vision) and bolted out of the cave.
 
"He said we."
"WE?!"
"Where's the griffon -- the griffon!"
 
There was much rejoicing. We celebrated with beer, to Izol's dismay -- cracking open a brew with the cold ones.
 

The box

Amidst drinking Izol and Theo approached one another. Izol gave up the spellbook, and Theo the infernal lockbox. But the wizard had words to go with it -- asking for Izol to promise to watch over his own life more than he does. "I need you. I can't continue without you." Izol agreed, to some extent, promising only that if someone has to give their life it would be him (none of the other Vanguard).
 
Inside the infernal lockbox was a pair of brawler's knuckles carved from bone -- a pair of human jawbones, an animated glass eye, a horned drinking glass, and a small locket fashioned after a small creature's skull. The locket is enchanted with an illusion spell, the eye a necromantic cantrip (to keep it animated), and the knuckles evocation.
 
At Izol's request Steel checked over these items as well via identify. The skull locket holds a trick: it screams when opened. Similarly, the eye is merely an organic eye encased in glass. Within the drinking glass (itself mundane) is devil's whiskey, a magical and potent brew that burns the drinker while blasting their sensibilities.
 
 

Reunion

It was an hour or so before we heard thumping on the door.
"I think it's Francis."
 
It was.
 
There was many a bear hug and a few tears as well. We were all glad to see our bear. But Francis turned to leave the hut, calling out to someone.
 
Something. A small griffon, the size of a small hound. Furred and feathered with bird wings, bright blue eyes, and... the head of a sabre-toothed cat. Murg was able to reach out and touch the creature, with Francis' soothing words.
 
"He hatched two weeks ago. I haven't named him."
 
 

Thar be a dragon

We gathered ourselves to prepare for the road ahead. In Hatewind Peak we expect to find a white dragon. While deciding how to handle the creature, Varunmund mentioned that dragon scales are one component to make mythicite. Murg, naturally, has a vested interest in selling dragon parts.
 
Steel took time that night to prepare his things, ammunition (bolt of white dragon slaying) and armor (infusion: spell-refueling ring) specifically.
 
 

Bigger than before

As we headed back north, towards Wander Hall, we passed the giant frozen in an Ibrithilian lake (on the second day). Now it was slightly rotted and perhaps even gnawed on. Theo and Murg felt something watching us; as we got close, we made out the two avian rocs ripping the dead giant to shreds. Even from a distance they seemed twisted by magic, driven insane by recent events.
 
After seeing the rocs (and the surrounding landscape) the question of the giant red crystals was brought up. "An infection on the land?" was Yrna's idea. Francis, who had been in the wilds during our absence, had avoided them during his hunts. We concluded we should do the same.
 
 

Strangers

The next morning we all woke in good shape. Packing up our things, we were interrupted by the noise of clanking boots and armor. A group of humanoids, beyond the tree line, gathering crystals from the landscape. Humanoids of all shapes and sizes, even from both sides of the Arcadian War.
 
Theo spotted the crew, and Steel advised taking the offense. Masters Hornraven and Murg approached from our hidden spot in the trees, with Izol and I watching from a hidden vantage. When speaking to the group -- who didn't attack at first -- Theo and Murg posed as archaeologists. The group was, as we had observed, collecting crystals to better understand their properties. The crystals popped up when the Living Gate was opened.
 
What is worse is that Fort Richter has fallen, renamed The Last Watch, when Ibrithil fell.
 
Murg offered in perhaps the scariest way possible for the group's leader to use a scry, to see his son. Using a letter from "Matthias", Murg was able to show the captain as promised.
 
This earned the group's, and their leader Nathaniel's, trust.
 
The group is the Last Vanguard -- hollow laughter -- comprised of Accord and Vecti soldiers who had fought against one another. But the Gate opened, and in the chaos the humanoids banded together to survive. A ceasefire has been agreed on in Ibrithil (in Vhaal, unknown as of yet). Indrada above-ground is no more; their underground home was revealed when the gate opened. But at least the giants are safe there, if isolated from the rest of the world. He also "updated" our map, pointing out the new names given to the region.
 
 

Mid-air

We spend most of the day flying, between polymorphed Theo and wildshaped Ynra. From up high we could see more of Ibrithil, Chillmoon Tower now a black spire with a portal hanging in space above it, cracking. Below was an ink-black sea of sludge, filled with otherworldly tentacles threatening to snatch anything within reach. The sea was spreading -- slowly, but unstopping.
 
It was the barely silent beat of wings taking off from the forest floor that gave the white dragon away. It attacked from behind, opening its maw to let forth an icy breath. But it was accompanied by red hailstones. The dragon has been corrupted, crystals covering many parts of its form. It was unclear if the gems were sapping its strength or adding to it. Ynra dove quickly into the treetops, Theo following, hiding underneath the canopy from the dragon. It could not find us, destroying a handful of frozen trees before wheeling about in the air to head back to its roost at Hatewind Peak.
 
Now we are at the base of Hatewind Peak, with a long climb ahead of us.