Following their unlikely escape from the twisting passages of the Silver Tower, the companions find themselves branded and in possession of a dangerous artifact, one which has clearly bonded the group. They cannot let this mystery go unsolved, at least not until they are free of the mark. They first pay a visit to the Aelven Loremaster Alnum Starcrest. She listens carefully to the tale, then takes one look at the artifact which the Tenebrael Shard proffers, and recoils. “An instrument of dark power,” she says, stroking her chin, “and a grim portent. It is clear that the forces of chaos are moving against Hammerhal. My sages have heard whispers of strange portals opening beneath the lost undercity, and of foul things emerging from them. I see now that the two must be linked. I think that you must explore these portals and what lies beyond them, if you wish to solve the riddle of the amulet… and of the mark which you now carry together.”
The party each goes their separate ways, to recover from their experience each in their own way, resolving to meet at the tavern the next day. On his way to the Bazaar, an old man lurches towards Kyre and gives him a sword, pleading for him to return it to its home. Reluctantly, and for a price, he does so, rebuffing the recipient's tearful gratitude but gladly accepting the reward for its return.
Morgwaeth enters the Chapel of the Shattered Blade, though she meditates in her own way. Though it will take time, her wound will heal.
The Barbarian engages in a martial contest, and impresses the notorious Conran.
The Assassin goes gambling, and loses everything.
The Mistweaver buys alchemical ingredients, and brews a Potion.
The next evening, the group gathers at the inn, less Morgwaeth, who is still nursing a grievous wound at the Chapel. The Shard brings news of a black market dealer in Tzeentchian artifacts that may be able to help them find one of the lost portals beneath the city. Once more your party girds themselves, this time for a journey into the underworld of Hammerhal.
As soon as they descend, they hear the low chanting of deep voices as they step through the doorway of a strange temple. Before them is a hall lined with horrifying statues sculpted in the image of hideous dark gods. The hulking warrior supplicants rise with weapons lifted. At the far end of the temple stands their master, a half-daemon lord of evil!
The party interrupts an infernal ritual
Kyre steps into the room, both guarding and making room for the Mistweaver in the doorway. The Darkoath Chieftain sees the pair of Khorne warriors standing in between him and the Sorcerer. He grins and begins loping down the chamber towards them. They meet in a mighty clash of arms - and the Chieftain falls! The Mistweaver, seeing this, reaches into her pouch and withdraws the Phoenix Heart, squeezing it until blood runs down her arm. Several drops fall onto the floor next to her, and the Chieftain appears safely next to her, his wounds healing as she watches. Once she is certain that her companion is safe, she turns her attention to the demonic form at the end of the hall, and launches illusory bolts at it, but the only one that connects fizzles without apparent effect across the creature's golden armor.
The Chaos Sorcerer Lord cackles, and moves with preternatural swiftness towards the Black Ark Fleetmaster. His magical weapons sizzle, and Kyre buckles under this viscious assault. His frantic flailing in response somehow connects, however, and the Sorcerer howls in pain.
Seeing an opening, The Tenebrael Shard slips up next to the evil lord and lets fly with a barrage of slicing attacks. To everyone's astonishment, each attack connects, and he finally sends the Sorcerer crashing into the far wall. Kyre wastes no time to follow up, moving next to the assassin and slicing open one of the worshippers with his Murder Hook. The remaining Khorne devotee cuts furiously at the Shard, opening up a ragged slice on his arm, but the Darkoath Barbarian closes the distance once more and finishes him off with sword and axe.
The hall falls silent.
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