Saggitarian Nexus

On the Consequences of Being Assertive

In need of information, the Nexus follows up a clue given them by Rettissh, searching the docks for evidence of missing silver. They find the ship in question, and discover that it travels daily in and out of the city, taking on cargo at port, and returning empty.

The party waits for it’s return the following morning, then confronts he sailors loading cargo. The crew remains obtuse and rude, and is about to leave port, when Taskar escalates the matter with a well timed scaly fist.

A large-scale battle breaks out, with the Nexus eventually wresting control of the ship from the sailors and speeding out of the dock, a naval vessel in pursuit.


The party awakes to some commotion, and soon finds out that the people of Thardis have discovered the dead bandits. An impromptu celebration is held. Lord Ashley gives the party a sack of gold in exchange for retconning his hiring of the Nexus. Ale is served!

Back in Cliffport, the Nexus finds Kyr in some distress. She sends the party on an emergency mission given the BB by Astranth. They travel to an old castle on a hill, and dispatch a young white dragon with… um… dispatch.

On their return, Kyr grants the party a full explanation of her organization’s ties with Astranth, namely the blue’s habit of using the business to add to his horde.

Trail of the Doppleganger

Tavarius and Taskar Rence wait cautiously in the headquarters of The Bookhouse Boys . After a few moments, Kyr enters, followed by Aosid and Rettissh. She claims that Rettissh has spent the last week in Cliffport’s prison, and further questioning reveals that he had no knowledge of the deal that he was supposedly involved in the day before. With coincidences mounting, the party becomes more and more certain that their doppelganger foe is hard at work. Mistrustful of their employer, but out of options, they return to the sight of yesterday’s bandit ambush in search of answers.

A trail leading into the wilderness is found, and despite some spotty guidance by the Paladin, they find themselves at the dead bandit’s camp, nestled at the top of a large plateau overlooking a wooded valley. The camp has been deserted, though the ranger thinks that no more than a day or so could have passed since the exodus. A more detailed examination is about to take place, when the armored members of the party activate a magical message interred in the still burning fire-pit. A sepulchral voice speaks of surrender, servitude and a fatal promise before extinguishing. The ritual’s end summons a grand serpentine beast of flames and bone which attacks without hesitation. At the battles end, the Nexus questions whether they are the intended recipient of the strange message. Caelyn’s only clue is his knowledge that magic of great power and evil was used in the creation of the monster, a feat much too difficult for the likes of roadside bandits.

Weary, the party marches out of the wilderness and returns to Thardis, where they locate the town’s single tiny inn and settle in for the night.

Arrival In Cliffport
The Nexus finds city life to be a tad more complicated.

Kyr leads the party to Cliffport, a bustling trade city on the western shore. Feeling obligated to the heroes who recovered her soul, she offers the travelers a place to rest, and a job.

The Nexus is tasked with escorting a cart of goods through known bandit county. True to the warning, the party is attacked while passing through a ruin. Fending off the bandits, they continue to the rendezvous near the small hamlet of Thardis.

The party meets a band of smugglers led by Rettissh, who tells the Nexus that payment for the goods has already been made. The smugglers are insistent on receiving the crates they claim as their own. Unable to strike a deal with the party, Rettissh attacks, escaping in the Nexus’ cart with half the cargo.

During the ensuing battle, a Gnoll and Tiefling are captured, though an interrogation reveals that neither will betray their employer. A quick search of the surrounding countryside leads The Nexus to what appears to be the smuggler’s hideout, though it has been recently looted. Unsure of who to trust, the party makes their way back to Cliffport to search for answers.

Down from the Bluff

All You climb the bluff. You see nothing out of the ordinary until you reach the top. A small, ornately wrapped parcel sits in the precise middle of the surface, surrounded by the young-but-still-quite-enormous tracks of Donnyx.

Taskar looks around and then cautiously approaches the package. He lifts it, hesitant to inspect if further, and presents it to Arista, who has followed closely behind him.

Suln rocks back and forth on his heels.

Arista says: “I wonder what this could be… a million gold wouldn’t fit in here… but the equivalent in astral diamonds….” With an expectant giggle, Arista eagerly grasps the parcel and deftly opens it. No one’s sure they even saw how she did so. With a flourish she reveals…

*All* Some stuff! Incidentally, nothing horrible happens to Arista. There are some items that seem to be larger than the parcel originally was:

Draconic Gilding: This can be applied to your shield, reinforcing and “pimping” it, allowing you to stylishly force your opponents back.
Power (Daily): Free Action. Use this power when you hit an enemy with a melee attack. Push the enemy 1d4 squares after applying the attack’s effects.
Level 15: Push 2d4 squares.
Level 25: 3d4 squares.

Ghost Bridle: This standard harness shimmers with the wind. If you concentrate, you can put your hand straight through, and if you wear it like you were a pack animal, you and whatever depraved being is riding you gain an ethereal, ghostly appearance.
Property: The mount gains resist 10 necrotic.
Power (Daily): Minor Action. You and your mount gain phasing until the end of your turn.

Cor’s Vengeance: This greatbow was apparently crafted by loving, skillful hands for someone named Cor, whose name is etched into the grips. The length is painted with elaborate images of a Shifter warrior slaying an enormous red dragon and protecting his village. There are burn marks on the upper end and a large blood stain on the bottom third.
Prof. 2, Damage 1d12, Range 25/50
Enhancement (
2): Attack and damage rolls
Critical: +1d8, or +1d12 against dragons
Property: This weapon provides 5 resistance against dragon breath attacks.
Power (Encounter): Free Action. Use this power when an attack hits a bloodied ally within 10 squares of you. Gain a +2 power bonus to attack rolls and +1d10 on damage rolls against the attacker until the end of your next turn.
Power (Daily): Minor Action. Your next attack with this weapon against a dragon, if made before the end of your turn, gains a +5 power bonus to the attack roll and automatically ignores any resistance the dragon has.

Staff of the War Mage: As you hold it, you sense that it will alter its appearance to obey your whims. Also, your name becomes more difficult to pronounce.
Prof 2, Damage 1d8
Enhancement (
2): Attack rolls and damage rolls
Critical: +2d8
Power (Daily): Free Action. Use this power when using a power that has a blast or burst effect. Increase the size of the blast or the burst by 1.

There is also 1,500 gp in precious gems and a note in a florid Draconic script:

“I admit that these tokens are a mere fraction of what I could offer you, but I trust that you have no issue with them. A few of them came from my rival Vulk’s cache–you may have noticed his remains on the bluff. At any rate, go forth with my thanks, but do not hold it lightly.”

As you open the note, a pendant slips out from the folds. It bears an emblem of an arm holding a golden sword with the bows of a deciduous tree growing from the blade. You might hear Kyr stifle a small gasp.

Taskar takes the note from the very much distracted Arista and reads it, barely catching the pendant. He then holds out the bag of holding and clears his throat several times. Eventually, he wrangles the jewels from the rogue, letting her hold on to a couple to play with.

As the others dig in, Taskar steps over to Kyr and holds the pendant out for her inspection, looking at her inquisitively and somewhat sternly.

All Reluctantly accepting that the Nexus has a way of seeing the truth of things (somehow), Kyr raises an eyeridge and refrains from talking just long enough to be coy.

“That old bluebird is so hard to predict. I can’t say much in the open air, but I will tell you this: you have friends in Cliffport you haven’t met yet. They’re definitely.. ah.. your type..”

She shoots Taskar yet another LOOK.

“Except they’re worth knowing.”

Suln: Figuring that it his continued disregard for the Dragons was what put this loot in front of him, Sūln decides to continue that course of action. He pokes each piece in the collection and bites the Gilding, impressed. He attempts to juggle a few jewels before ignoring the horde.

Unsure what sort of LOOK is being shot, Taskar does his best to make his response as neutral as possible: “That type are particularly difficult to come across, aren’t they?”

As Caelyn and Prince continue playing with their new toys, Taskar goes over to examine the gilding. Taking it over to Sūln, he offers it to the dwarf.
“We owe you a bit more than this, but for now stories of rescuing dragons and a pint once we reach Cliffport will have to suffice.”

*All* The party heads west to Cliffport, lead by the ever-amused-except-when-she’s-being-eaten Kyr. As you walk, you notice a slight shift in the physics of the world. You wonder what strange events will follow in the bustling, airship-filled metropolis.

In a Creepy Room
Where nothing creepy is bound to happen

Taskar sat on his haunches a respectful distance from the other dragonborn as she lay unconscious. He was trained in two healing arts. The first he regularly employed in battle, calling upon his companions to find reserves of strength in themselves. The second was a traditional technique he’d learned from a disheveled monk he’d befriended after mistaking him for a pile of rags. He had administered both in this situation to the best of his abilities, bandaging what he could, salving the rest, all the while muttering words of what he hoped were encouragement. He didn’t rightly know how to assuage spiritual wounds.

He now watched the rogue and ranger claw their way into the trap door. He’d tried the stone over the door again, to no avail. Despite their taunting, Taskar did have at least a fraternal connection to the unconscious female. Despite his best efforts to become worldly and to make himself more than just another dragonborn warrior, he had in no way become calloused. He was still compelled to help when he could. This compulsion seemed amplified in the presence of one of his own race. For the time being, at least, he’d done all he could. He closed his eyes and began clearing his mind for meditation.

Wherein Taskar Finds a Girlfriend (Maybe)
Soul-Eater Explosion!

So, after thoroughly destroying [read: exploding into a blinding, inky mess] three of four Dark Ones, and watching a Lady Dragonborn smash a Flaming Skull that the party first thought may have been their wayward magical halfling buddy, the dragon-woman called the party by name and beckoned for them to follow as she ran into a cave. The already-smitten Taskar eagerly ran after her, while Caelyn, Arista, and Prince followed more cautiously. Once inside the cave, the dragon they’d been following appeared in her true form as a Doppleganger and ran around the corner. They followed, only to discover an empty corridor where her tracks ended abruptly before a sealed trapdoor. Prince immediately ran into the next room, and then out again, screaming, sending a fireball over his shoulder for mega-damage.

The rest of the party arrived behind Prince just as a huge Desolator rounded the corner, the female Dragonborn from earlier curled up in his translucent belly. He proceeded to vomit on Arista a horrible digested-soul necrotic slurry. During the ensuing moments, Taskar continually worried aloud about the lovely female whose soul was being devoured and asked the party to help him save her. Caelyn responded by telling the warlord to “keep it in [his] pants,” to which Taskar replied, “it’s too big!” Eventually, the Nexus managed to slay the hideous creature, luckily, just before it killed the lady inside.

Onward to the Bluff
Aosid disappears and Suln arrives.

And so the party gives their final farewells to the town that owes them quite a bit more than it knows. The newly-bolstered group (complete with Caelyn, who was found stalking a forest lizard a few miles from town) departs along the road heading west seeking clearly-defined ADVENTURE. They explain to the occasional passerby that they are headed to Tor’s Mesa, a landmark whereat a vision of the Raven Queen told them they would fight Azalin, the lich who destroyed Tavarius’ every hope and dream. Don’t worry; it will probably make sense eventually.

Spirits are abnormally high, even for the borderline-masochist Nexus. Everyone fiddles with his or her new toy, menacing squirrels with disappearing daggers or carving meaningless-but-eerie symbols into rocks with unnaturally sharp blades. Adair, Stormsoul swordmage and newest Nexus constituent, trades his strange story for those of the rest of the group. At one point, Taskar even flips a coin to a completely irrelevant transient who is obviously sleeping off a hangover in the ditch. Yep, that transient is definitely not significant.

The distinctive cumulonimbus outline of Tor’s Mesa becomes clear on the horizon just in time for it to be silhouetted by a fantastic prismatic sunset. The recently-and-supposedly-wizened party completely fails to keep their jaws from dropping for a full fifteen seconds. Soon, though, the sunburst burns through the world, leaving a piercingly clear starfield after the shortest green sigh of an afterglow. The group begins to set up camp as soon as they recover basic motor function.

The stories continue over a roaring fire and a fine skin of wine (yet another parting gift from Fallcrest). As the fire and the lively Draconic and Elven jests die down, the full moon rises to the east with the shape, vitality, and comforting air of a very pregnant mother. Again, the possibly fate-touched Nexus (even Adair, always lost in his own thoughts) reacts as one with a soft sigh.

Aosid, though, eyes the smiling orb with a curious intense gaze. He sighs again, but louder. “She’s showing me something,” he states softly and distractedly. “I have to go.” He stands and offers the smallest grin and a sad little look to the rest of the Nexus.

“I’ll find you.”

Before anyone can react, the air folds around him and he is gone without a noise.

Taskar looks to the other devotee of Sehanine questioningly. He then asks a question: “What was that about?”

Arista studies the moon for a long moment, then absently replies, “He has always been a seeker. He has no ties. Even when he is not in the midst of a battle, his presence is illusory.” She sighs and lowers her gaze so that it falls on Taskar’s face. “He will keep his word.”

Arista spends the remainder of the evening in quiet thought.

Taskar found himself reflecting on his life to this point. Beyond the hideous demons and killers of men that he and his friends continually faced, he thought what most unnerved him was the blind acceptance of new faces that his short time in the Nexus had ingrained in him. Between new allies coming out of every other door and disappearing into the nearest bush, it was dizzying. He thought this as he stood over the humorous, unconscious dwarf, unsure how to proceed. The little man had just helped them tremendously. And he was certainly affable enough. On the one hand, the guy could definitely handle himself. On the other, Taskar felt uncomfortable leaving him alone, especially knowing what dangers were out here. Taskar crouched down next to the dwarf and looked over at his comrades, who were just finishing patching themselves up from their last scuffle, and considered the situation.

With the last reserves of a healing surge, Sūln hazily returns to consciousness to witness rows of razor-incisors curiously scrutinizing him. His brow furrows as he attempts to reconcile this vision with his absent memory…


Very well, step two. Without moving overmuch, he wiggles his extremities until he can be certain they are all attached and more or less functional, and that his hand still grips his axe. Feeling slightly more at ease with the situation, he attempts to subdue the fierce looking reptilian with tact and charm.

“Um… hello? What’s going on?”

“Hello.” Taskar stands up, giving the strangely unagitated dwarf some space. “We just finished up with those shifters of yours.” Taskar wasn’t sure the dwarf had any idea what he was talking about. “The one’s you got into some sort of scuffle with?” Taskar couldn’t for the life of him read this fellow. Time for a new approach. He extended his hand. “My name is Taskar. These [he gestures over his should] are a few of my friends. We’re on our way to either kill a lich or save a blue dragon hatchling. You’re welcome to travel with us and assist in either venture. The benefits aren’t great, but the pay is good.”

“Scuffle? Yes. Yes. They…. took some things. Tried to take some things. I think. Hit me on the head a little.” Then, matter-of-factly: “That happens sometimes. Still, that’ll make two times I’ve scared them off and two times they’ve rendered me unconscious.” There’s a note of triumph and gravity accompanying this pronouncement.

“So… a blue dragon? Never seen one. Sounds good.” He promptly sits, empties a waist pouch and begins munching solidly on some manner of condensed grain. He puts out his unoccupied hand. “I’m Sūln. Where is this hatched lich?”

On our way to the mysteriously smoking bluff that hopefully houses the stolen dragon whelp, the Nexus has encountered an inordinate amount of shifters. The first couple were involved in a pursuit, one way or the other, involving a curious dwarven fellow who’s proven exceedingly helpful. The second bunch were accompanied by a gibbering acid hyena of some sort that was genuinely unsettling, and some fancy dire wolf mounts. After taking care of the hyena and the shifters, one unfortunate pup was slain. The other, however, was scolded into submission by Taskar and subsequently befriended by Caelyn, leading to the Nexus’ first mount. So this path has proved a huge boom to the party as a whole. Caelyn may want to watch out for bone spikes when riding, though.

As Caelyn wrestled with his new friend, Taskar stepped over to Sūln.

“Where did you come from, Sūln? You’ve crossed shifters like these before, have they all been following you? Are they native out here? That last band seemed rather well prepared.”

Aftermath of Kalarel
Enter Adair

Before leaving Sir Keegan’s tomb, Taskar paused next to the alter in the antechamber. He touched the makeshift dragon amulet around his neck and considered leaving it where it had be found. He felt he owed this fallen champion and his knights a great debt. However, something tugged at the back of his mind, that perhaps Bahamut wasn’t finished with the Dragonborn, so he kept his statuette and began making his way out of the underground.

As the party stepped out of the collapsed keep, Taskar wondered what had become of the elven ranger. They had called to him down the wells, but perhaps the moving water had carried their voices away. Surely he had had the wherewithal to get out of the Shadowfel. Taskar resolved to find him once the Dragonborn had gotten those still under his charge to safety. Whether Caelyn would be grateful for his efforts, he didn’t know.

The trek back to the village was long and quiet. No words were exchanged between the new stranger and the battle weary party. The paladin slid his sword into fallen zombies they passed on the road, but even that was half-hearted. They were all very tired. When the torchlight of the village came into view, Taskar heaved a sigh of relief. He would just have to trust this Adair fellow, for tonight Taskar planned to sleep with both eyes closed.

While the party had been calling for Caelyn, Arista’s mood had been much more somber than usual, worried as she was for this elf that had somehow become one of her closest friends over the past couple of days, she hoped that he had made it safely out of the nether regions before the magical gateway failed. But, now that they were finally out of the keep and under the glorious star-filled sky, she could not keep herself from letting out a gleeful shout while spinning around with her arms outstretched. The rest of her companions trudged all the way back to town, but Arista was feeling more and more refreshed by the minute and continued to dart through the trees, touching, smelling, and even sometimes kissing the beautiful foliage around her, so great was her joy at finally being surrounded by the living.

Once they reached the inn, she elected to rest in the tree outside their window, offering to keep watch while the others slept. So, when the tiefling arose after a long rest, Arista watched him wander downstairs, and after about ten minutes, decided to join him in the tavern. It was time for a decent meal, after all. (And, she thought, a couple of drinks couldn’t hurt, either…)

Of course Aosid wakes up first. His blessed coma lasted a mere one and a half days. In sooth, the bloodbath beyond the portal had rejuvenated his mind from the ravages of that foul keep more than he cares to acknowledge; if it hadn’t been for his treacherous sleep-dependent body, he might have wandered the town the day they returned.

At any rate, he has some time to kill. He wanders down to the tavern, orders a tall one, and sets himself to the not-unpleasant task of starting a raucous celebration. It would be easier if the locals knew the horrors they nearly met, but Aosid’s mood is infectious.

Once the shindig is in full swing, he starts asking celebrants surreptitiously whether they know anything about a Stormsoul named Adair.

Tavarius had found it difficult to contain his manic glee on the first leg of the return journey, but then all at once his activities during the past few days caught up with him. Where he had just been ready to fight another horde he then found it difficult to prod fallen undead lying in the road on the way. It also seemed that he had left his mind in the shadowfel. That adventure had been the most contact he had ever had with the Raven Queen, and now back in the physical plane away from her visions, the absence of her presence left a void that left him feeling vacant and detached.

As he sat in the bar half-listening to the conversations and celebrations of his compatriots he began to feel less and less satisfied with their success. The Raven Queen’s connection was a drug, and he needed more. Her commandments were simple: stamp out evil where it is found, and have no pity in taking their lives.

He could stand it no longer, so he stood up to leave the bar. Somewhere someone’s time had come.

Having been abandoned by the S. Nexus, Caelyn stumbles his way out of the Shadowfel, back into the underground tunnel system. Unable to muster much strength, he follows the stream, more blood than water now, several miles until it finally emerges into a sparse forest.

After days upon days of being beneath the earth and in other planes, Caelyn is quite unable to tell what time it is, on top of having little idea where he is or how to get to civilization. After an effort, the elf manages to climb a tree and establish a safe perch before passing out.

The next morning…

Early that morning, Taskar wandered around town. He visited Thar Thunderstriker and picked up his polearm, chatting the dwarf up and dodging questions as to why it’d taken him so long to claim his weapon. On his way back to the tavern, he noticed a small book shop, hidden away in an alley. Stepping inside, he was greeted by a wizened old man. The shop was decorated in all manner of holy symbols. Perusing the shelves, Taskar found a couple tomes of interest, politely paid for them, and returned to the inn to begin studying.

Prince, tactfully tracking Taskar by at least 500 yards at all times, viewed all the same storefronts and specialized merchants which the fiery Dragon-Man patronized. He pays no attention to the fierce dwarf peddling his rickety poles, bows, and other assorted weapons, as Prince carries his own weapons in his mind, mouth, and heart. However, five minutes after the Gigantic Lizard Person left the tome shop, Prince placed his foot in the door and made his own way into the treasury of knowledge. The bookkeep, remembering his face from his last few escapades, gave the wizard a brisk nod as he made his way to the back of the store, behind the little velvet curtain. Back at the tavern, in the privacy of his room, Prince sighed a deep, soul-exhausting smile whilst reclined on his freshly-groomed bed. He was tired. He was more than tired; he was running completely on empty. It was time for some R&R. It was Prince Time. Oh, he knew the others thought it was just a mite disgusting, but his interests were unaffected. He took a deep draw on his magical pipe. He stroked his shimmering, magical beard he grew over the course of the last few hours just for this purpose. He opened the first book on his personal stack he purchased that day. Ah, the Bare-Chested Elven Maidens of the Northern Ridge never disappointed.

The common room of the inn is babbling quietly, with only a few merchants eating their breakfast. The bartender wanders by and reminds those of you present that she’s keeping a tab.

The door slides open, admitting slivers of early morning light. Lord Padraig stands framed in the door, an incredulous stare leveled at the party. Behind him the guard captain looks equally haggard. Without waiting for a hello, he grabs a chair, pulls it to your table, and begins a loud address.

“What the hell, pardon my language, have you lot been up to? Did you just traipse off into the wilderness? Do you have any idea what’s been going on here? You’ve been gone four days, we weren’t sure if you’d been killed or just decided to abandon us!

“Two nights ago Valthrun told me that the portal had been opened! Where were you ? What happened? We’ve been bracing for an assault these past two nights!”

As he finishes his speech the wind seems to go out of him, and he sags in his seat. The room has gone silent as everyone turns to stare at Padraig, it is obvious that this is the first these people are hearing of the trouble.

Confident of the party’s full control of the situation, Taskar takes a slow pull from his mug as he waits for the Lord to finish. Licking his lipless mouth, he hunches forward in a pantomime of conspiracy that is clearly menacing. He speaks in an even tone, so that anyone in the tavern may hear if they wish, and the oblivious can keep their precious ignorance:

“Your Honor, if you wanted continuing status updates, you should’ve sent messengers with us. And if you didn’t want your little town overrun with undead, you should have continued investing in a keep and soldiers years ago.” Easing out of the sarcasm, Taskar sits back: “As it stands, you had a rather prosperous neighbor in the form of a cult of Orcus under the keep. The emphasis, you’ll be thankful to know, is placed on ‘had.’ The cult has been wiped out and the portal has been closed. None of us are particularly powerful ritual casters, so we can’t be sure, but the rift itself may well be shut. The place appeared devoid of any arcane presence once we had finished. Perhaps you have someone you can send to verify this.” Taskar’s voice shifts once again as he both takes pity on the man and realizes he still has business to conduct: “You were right to prepare for the worst, however. Again thankfully, you’re efforts were for naught, but they were wisely taken. We now find ourselves requiring your services. One of our own, a prisoner of the goblins under the keep, is lost. We have reason to believe he’s in the woods on the other side of the hill. With your grace, I’d like to take a few of your soldier and go search for him. Our friend is a supremely competent ranger, it won’t take long to find him if he wishes to be found.” Taskar gestures the barkeep over. “Come, sirs, let me get you something and we can talk business.”

Meeeeanwhiiiiile, back in the forest…

Caelyn awakens at the sound of a forest creature in the ground nearby his tree, most likely a red-tailed deer or an achlis. Despite his multitude of aches and bruises, there are only two things that seem to be bothering him.

Firstly, his right hand, charred black from the Shadowfel fight—it would be several days before he regained the subtle touch needed for archery. No wonder his final two arrows had missed so terribly. He jumps to the ground and begins searching the undergrowth, quickly recognizing several healing plants. Taking their leaves, he peels off the outermost layer of blackened skin from his hand and wraps his palm and fingers.

The second thing that is bothering the elf is his stomach. He has eaten little in the past week. Walking to a clearing on the valley floor, he spots some kind of fortress, surrounded by a high wall, about a half-days walk away. Deciding this was likely the town the S. Nexus spoke of, he sets off in that direction.

Session 10: Death of Kalarel
End of a Module

The extradimensional party rushes in to attack as zombies swarm around them. Before long the entire battlefield is covered in flames and the party is separated. Kalarel stands wreathed by the fire, landing blows from afar while commanding his troops. On the other side of the portal, Taskar and Prince attempt to stem the tide by launching attacks through the ceiling above, but progress is slow. Knowing that his friends’ lives depend upon his actions, Taskar repels into the morass with a retinue of skeletons. Undead press upon them from all sides, and it is all the dragonborn can do to keep the press of corpses at bay.

Back in the Shadowfell, a bolt of lightning suddenly strikes one of the horde, and in the smoking ruins of its corpse kneels a Genasi, his face filled with sorrow and confusion. Transplanted and lost he may be, in a moment he is able to grasp the significance of the situation, for not ten feet from the site of his appearance lies a rune of all too familiar power. He whips into action, dispatching undead with ease. The party recognizes an ally, and soon enough they have isolated the necromancer and move in for the kill.

Wading through the horde, Taskar and company manage to push their way through the portal, to the surprise of those in the shadowed realm. The skeletons hold back the volume of zombies from returning to the Shadowfell while the party surrounds and finally fells the dreaded Kalarel.

Quickly turning their attention to the portal, the rune is analyzed and disrupted by collective effort. With the rift fast collapsing, most of the heroes rush through the arch, leaving the Ranger to scamper through the underground portal lest he be left in the realm of the dead. As the untold hundreds of zombies in the temple proper are cut off from the power of the Shadowfell, they collapse, returning to their rightful state of eternal rest.


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