An Uneasy Alliance

“I told you I was going to take my time with you the next time we met!”, Rolth Lamm snarled. His eyes were fixed on Tomas with a stare of hatred so intense that the ranger involuntarily took a half step back. They’d found the son of their nemesis hiding out in the Red Mantis headquarters deep beneath Korvosa. His last hideout had been with the derros in the Dead Warrens, and they’d found grotesque evidence of the necromancer’s obsession with creating undead constructs there – bits and pieces of half-constructed or failed experiments in building new creatures from the remains of the dead. He’d obviously continued his work here, to greater success. Two huge creatures blocked the corridor between the party and Rolth: one looked like it had been sewn together from fragments of half a dozen or more different corpses, while the other was an amalgam of bones from a dozen mismatched skeletons.

Wren and Nat immediately began casting summoning spells, hoping to conjure some reinforcements that could attack Rolth without having to fight past his enormous minions. Erin stepped into the doorway and threw a Thunderstone at the Flesh Golem in the front. The stone exploded with a thunderclap, but neither construct seemed at all bothered. Tomas fired an arrow at the Flesh Golem; he’d cast Gravity Bow just before they’d opened the door, and the arrow struck the reanimated flesh with a resounding thwack. Jax cast Haste on his friends as the Bone Golem pushed its way past his mate and slammed a bony fist into Erin’s gut. Shadow ignored the minions, and called forth a Fireball that exploded around Rolth’s ears.

A rat suddenly darted out of the small gap between one of the nearest sarcophagi and the wall. It scampered around the feet of the Bone Golem, then clawed at Erin’s leg. The scratch was insignificant, but Erin could feel the power of magic in its touch, and her muscles began to freeze up. Calling forth her reserves of strength, she fought off the spell, and the rat gave a squeak of frustration that was echoed by his master at the far end of the hall. With a flourish, Rolth unleashed an Empowered Lightning Bolt that flashed down the corridor and the length of the room behind it. Tomas managed to nimbly evade it, but Erin took its full force, and Shadow and Nat were also hit. Nat was unable to maintain his concentration as the bolt rattled his teeth, and his summoning spell fizzled. The electricity sizzled through one golem’s bones with no effect, but the Flesh Golem seemed to actually be recharged by the spell, the damage from Tomas’s arrow forgotten. Having unleashed the bolt, Rolth darted back into the room at the far end of the hall, out of sight.

Nat was pissed. He’d had great plans for the creature he’d intended to summon, and now it was all for naught. He knew that the golems were immune to most of the spells that he and Shadow could throw at them, and now Rolth was out of sight doing who knows what while his friends wasted time battling past the creatures Rolth had obviously placed there to slow them down. Rolth had taken control of the battlefield, and that annoyed Nat to no end. “Let’s see how you like this,” Nat muttered as he strode forward. “Grab on!” he commanded as he took hold of Wren’s wrist with one hand and Shadow’s with the other. The rest of the group didn’t know what Nat was up to, but they’d learned that when he used that tone it was best just to go along, so everyone else quickly reached out for their nearest buddy. Nat looked to see that everyone was in contact with one another, then spoke the final command word for his spell. In a flash, everyone Teleported into the room at the far end of the hall, where they saw Rolth assembling spell components in the far corner of the room. “For Iomedae!” Erin cried, and charged, Smiting the surprised necromancer with her sword. Tomas moved to his right, firing arrows as he went; one arrow flashed past Jax’s ear, another under Erin’s upraised arm, and the fletching of the third brushed Wren’s armor, but all three found their mark in Rolth Lamm’s chest. The necromancer had thought his Stoneskin would buy him time to harry these intruders with spells at a distance, but he’d never expected them to get this close, this fast; his final thoughts as he died were ones of confusion, wondering just what had gone wrong.

But the fight wasn’t over; Rolth’s two corpse-constructs had heard the commotion behind them and now turned to face this new battlefront. Jax ignored them altogether and fired off a volley of Magic Missiles at Rolth’s rat familiar. The magical bolts flipped the rat over, but it landed on its feet and ran full speed out through the far doorway and out of sight; if it had held any love for its master, it didn’t extend to the point of dying to avenge him. Wren had arrived at her new location slightly disoriented, but had continued casting her Summon Monster spell, and now a trio of Bralani Azata appeared in the hallway, blocking the path the golems would have to take to reach the party. They pincushioned the Flesh Golem with arrows as Wren cast a Channel Divinity to heal her friends. Erin, still smarting from Rolth’s Lightning Bolt laid hands on herself as well.

The Flesh Golem was now in the front and the Bone Golem in the rear. The Bone Golem pulled a handful of bones off of himself and flung them over his partner’s head at the nearest Bralani; as they struck, they magically multiplied, forming a tight cage of bone around the summoned creature. Shadow, not having studied up on golems as much as Nat had, fired off a set of Scorching Rays at the Flesh Golem, and was shocked to see that they didn’t seem to affect it in the slightest. With an inarticulate bellow, the Flesh Golem charged, squeezing past the bone cage to slam its fist into the azata behind it.

Nat knew that the golems were immune to most magic; in fact, if you cast the wrong spell at them it could actually make things worse, as Rolth’s Lightning Bolt had proven. But he thought that there were some types of spells that might be able to bypass their magical immunity. Crossing his fingers that he was right, he conjured an Orb of Light and flung it at the Flesh Golem. It struck with a blinding flash, and when the spots cleared from his eyes, he saw the golem lying in a lifeless heap on the floor.

Jax dodged past the two flying Bralani in the hallway and started hacking away at the bone cage with his sword, trying to free the one imprisoned inside. He could hear it doing the same from the inside, but the bones were incredibly hard. The other azata redirected their fire at the Bone Golem; their arrows hit, but did little more than chip away at the thing’s bones. Even Tomas, taking careful aim to strike at the thing’s most vital spots, seemed to do little to harm it. Nat sighed – it looked like it was up to him (again). He conjured yet another Orb of Light, and as it struck, the golem crumbled into a disjointed collection of bones that rolled and clattered down the hallway.

All danger eliminated, the group paused to heal and search. The room where they’d killed Rolth looked to be his living quarters, with a bed and a chest of clothing and personal belongings. There were also a pair of sarcophagi each containing the lower half of a woman’s body, and they shuddered to realize that the necromancer had shared his sleeping quarters (and who knows what else) with the undead manananggals. Among his possessions, they found a set of the key-shaped daggers that marked him as the Key-Lock Killer; Nat realized now why he’d been unable to locate these in his aerial searches all those weeks ago – Rolth had taken refuge here, protected by the Red Mantis’ Mage’s Private Sanctum.

“OK! Let’s wait for more of these bastards to come back home and then kill them, too!” Nat’s blood was running hot, and he was ready for action. The others just wanted to get some rest. Jax tried to talk him down: “OK, first, we don’t know if there even are any more of these guys. We’ve already killed, what? Fifteen? Twenty? It’s not like they’ve got an army. And even if there are more of them, we have no idea when or if they might show up here.” It took some convincing, but finally Nat reluctantly agreed to give up the hunt. On the way out, Wren used Dispel Magic to bring down the Mage’s Private Sanctum, to ensure this couldn’t still be used as a secret hideout, and they dumped Rolth’s body (in pieces) into the sewer, to make sure they’d finally seen the last of the Lamm family.

Nat teleported the party back to the Dead Warrens, and Field Marshall Kroft listened with grim satisfaction as they reported the success of their mission to avenge Vencarlo Orsini’s assassination. When they finished, she turned away for a moment as her eyes welled with tears. Then she composed herself and turned back to face the party. “So what’s your next step? Try to find the location of this Castle Scarwall?”

Everyone’s shoulders drooped a little. It seemed like no matter what they did, there was always more left to do. “Actually,” Jax said at last, “I wouldn’t mind spending a few days to prepare a little first.” The others quickly agreed, and for the next few days Jax and Nat busied themselves copying spells from the spellbooks they’d brought back from Hell. Wren had Kroft make contact with Bishop d’Bear, and arranged to acquire a few potions of Lesser Restoration and Neutralize Poison. At last, they couldn’t put it off any longer. “OK – where should we go?” Jax asked as the group ate a cold supper. “Janderhoff or Kaer Maga?”

“Janderhoff is closer,” Nat offered. “If they don’t have what we’re looking for there, we can move on to Kaer Maga.” No one knew anything about either place, so one seemed just as promising as the other. The next morning, they all prepared their gear, linked hands, and Nat cast his Teleport spell.

He’d been studying maps, but he knew there was still a chance they could end up in the middle of nowhere and maybe have to spend days just figuring out where they were. But when they reappeared, they were on a broad, well-paved road. They could see a mountain range stretching out to their right and left, and ahead of them, up the road, was a massive wall inset with a huge iron gate, flanked by a pair of carved dwarven warriors. This was the entrance to the dwarven sky-citadel of Janderhoff!

The road was busy with traffic, but no one seemed upset or surprised by their sudden appearance. The city gates were open; dwarven guards were stationed at the gates, but more in the role of policemen watching for pickpockets or troublemakers; no one challenged them as they entered. The gates opened directly into the mountainside, and as they entered they found themselves in a vast underground city. Broad streets and thoroughfares led off away from the gates, some sloping up or down, and all flanked by buildings as large and fine as any they’d seen in Korvosa, but all built underground. Magical lights made it seem as day, and everything was neat and orderly.

They were a bit taken aback – how would they find anything in this underground metropolis? Nat turned back to one of the guards at the gates. “Forgive I man-who-guards,” he said in halting Dwarvish. “Us looking be for house-of-books-many. Show us path you will?”

The guard smiled. “You are looking for the library?” he replied, speaking VERY slowly in Dwarvish. “Yes, I can direct you.” Then he rattled off a set of street directions that left Nat totally bewildered. He laughed as he saw Nat struggling to decipher the collection of unfamiliar nouns, verbs, and modifiers, then repeated his directions in Common. “Thank you!” Nat replied, also in Common.

The group was able to follow the guard's directions, although they stopped a few times to confirm with passers-by that they were on the right track – directions in Janderhoff were not only about right or left, but also up and down, and it was easy to get lost. But at last they found themselves standing beside an ornately carved pair of stone doors; Nat could make out the runes for “Library” among the carvings above them. Pushing them open, they found themselves facing a broad stone desk. Beyond it, rows of shelves stretched almost out of sight, covered with an astounding collection of books, scrolls, folios, and engraved plates. Other corridors branched off to the right and left, presumably holding still more written wonders. Nat found it almost difficult to breathe and could imagine spending the rest of his life here.

A dwarf was standing behind the desk. “May I help you?” he asked politely. Everyone suddenly realized they hadn’t discussed just how much it would be safe to say. “Umm … can you direct us to books of history?” Nat stammered. “We’re interested in what was happening, oh, seven or eight hundred years ago.”

The library clerk’s bushy eyebrows went up. “Well, there’s quite a lot of history, you know. All of it, as a matter of fact. Even for just a century or two. And we can’t allow you to just wander through our collection at random. Perhaps I’d better ask one of our sages to assist you. Please wait here.” He disappeared off into the stacks, and returned with a dwarf with a very long, white beard. Despite his obvious age, he showed no signs of infirmity, and despite his bookish occupation he wore a pair of gleaming throwing axes on his belt. “I’m Master Glimkirkis,” he introduced himself. “My associate tells me you’re interested in history. We need to narrow that down a bit - are you interested in Chelish history, or Osiriani history, or Tian history, or Dwarvish history, or …?”

“Belkzen,” Jax volunteered.

“Ah … Orcish history, then. Orcs don’t write a lot down, but their neighbors tend to write a lot about them.”

“No, not Orcish.” Jax decided that if they were to have any hope of finding what they were looking for, they’d have to be more specific. “We’re looking for information about a warlord named Kazavon, who lived perhaps 700 or 800 years ago. He was originally a mercenary hired by Count Andachi of Tamrivena to fight the orcs, but he kind of went rogue. He built a fortress somewhere in the Hold of Belkzen called Castle Scarwall – we want to see if you can find the location of that castle.”

Master Glimkirkis was taking notes as Jax relayed the information they’d gathered from the Shoanti ancestors. “Oh – and Kazavon turned out to really be a blue dragon!” Shadow interjected. “Blue dragon, you say?” Master Glimkirkis said without looking up. “Yes – that will be helpful.” He perused his notes a final time, then looked up at the party. “Well, this should give me something to go on. I can’t make any guarantees, you understand, but I’ll begin research immediately. Our rates for research are 10 gold pieces per day. After a week, if I haven’t found what you’re looking for yet, I’ll contact you to see if you want us to keep working. Where will you be staying?”

“Well, we really don’t have a place yet,” Erin admitted. “Can you suggest someplace close by?” Glimkirkis directed them to The Musty Wyrm, just around the corner, and they took their leave. The Musty Wyrm was a well-kept inn, with rooms for both human-sized guests as well as smallfolk, and they were soon checked in. But they didn’t spend much time in their room; after weeks of being either in a city that was shut down by plague or being fugitives in hiding, they’d accumulated several Bags of Holding worth of loot they’d been unable to sell, and long wish-lists of things they’d like to buy, and now they at last had the opportunity to do both. Within an hour, they were doing their part to boost the economy of Janderhoff.

That night, as they finally regrouped and prepared for bed, Wren felt a stirring in her pocket. The room’s candles flickered, and dust motes begin to dance and swirl. The familiar figure of Madame Zellara materialized before them, and she spoke in her otherworldly voice. “The spirits call to me again, to guide you in your quest. Please – my cards.” Wren laid the cards on the table, and they quickly sorted themselves into suits. “The book of Stars calls to me,” Zellara declared, and each person drew one card from that suit, then the cards reshuffled themselves. “Let us revisit the past,” Zellara proclaimed and laid out three cards in a column: The Liar, The Unicorn, and The Publican. “The Liar, in this position, speaks of new relationships. In the past, you have found allies where they were least expected. And The Unicorn offers gifts, just as you have been offered a boon, something you greatly desired. But the boon was false, and you wisely rejected it. The Publican usually presages fellowship and refuge, but here it is misaligned. You have defeated many threats, but there is no refuge for you. You are hunted, and your hunters will pursue you until the one who drives them is no more.”

“I knew we should have finished off those Red Mantis,” Nat muttered under his breath.

“Let us move to the present, and the challenges you face now,” Zellara continued, and dealt out a new column of three cards: The Demon’s Lantern, The Keep, and The Empty Throne. Zellara’s expression seemed to brighten. “The Demon’s Lantern – in this position it indicates that unexpected aid will appear to light your way forward, as it has in the past.” Then she frowned as she looked at the next two cards. “The Keep is unusually direct. It holds no symbolic meaning, but tells us that there is a mighty fortress in your future – Castle Scarwall. And as the spirits have warned, this fortress is filled with those who are lost, bound by some great power to the place where they committed their sins.

“Now let us peer farther into the future.” Three more cards arranged themselves on the tabletop: The Queen Mother, The Cyclone, and The Marriage. Zellara was silent as she pondered the meaning of the cards. “The Queen Mother normally tells of great knowledge, and its name here is apt. It hints that the Queen has uncovered some ancient secret that she intends to use to enhance her power. The Cyclone represents an unstoppable, destructive force unleashed through the plots of intelligent creatures. I fear that whatever the Queen is planning will have dire consequences for her kingdom. And finally, The Marriage. This card represents a union – in this case a ruinous joining of that which should never have been united. This is not just the unholy union of the Queen with that which possesses her – her new master seeks to consummate some far greater abomination.”

Zellara looked up at the party as her image began to fade. “You are on the right path, and recovering the sword Serithtial is your only hope to defeat the Queen. But the power of Kazavon in her grows daily, and he is working to further some dark design that is beyond the spirits’ sight.” Her voice drifted away as she dissolved into the darkness.

The party continued their shopping spree as they waited for word from the librarians. Two days later, as they were eating supper in the inn’s common room, Shadow suddenly heard a voice in his ear: “Hi! It’s me! Laori. Laori Vaus. Remember me? Long time, no talk! I’ve missed you guys – we had fun together, didn’t we? Anyway, I wanted …”

Shadow looked around, but there was no sign of Laori in the inn. There was a short period of silence, then the voice returned. “Hi – me again! I always have trouble with this spell. I mean, who can say anything useful in twenty-five words or less? Anyway, I wanted …”

Again, the voice cut off, only to return a minute later. “Damn! OK … We may able to help you get what you’re after. Let me know where you are and we’ll come talk to you.”

“We’re in The Musty Wyrm inn in Janderhoff,” Shadow replied, looking up at the ceiling.

“Uh, yeah. That’s right,” said Jax. “Were you a little confused about that just now?”

“Nope. Just letting the lady know where to find me. We might be having some company soon. I wonder where you can buy some cologne in this place?”

The next evening after dinner, the party heard a shave-and-a-haircut knock on their door. Shadow smoothed back his hair, then opened the door to find the elf grinning at them. “Hey guys! Great to see you again! This is my boss, Shadowcount Sial, and his, uh … friend, Asyra.” Behind her was a severe looking man with long gray hair. He was impeccably dressed in jet-black and crimson clothing, and the expression on his face suggested he was not pleased to be here. Beside him was a startling figure – a female creature wrapped in chains. Its pupil-less eyes held no expression, and its posture suggested a cool indifference to all around her.

Laori pushed happily into the room uninvited, followed by Sial and Asyra. “I guess you’re wondering why we’re here. It turns out, I wasn’t completely honest with you when we met back in Korvosa.” Several of the group exchanged eye-rolls and I-told-you-so expressions. “I mean, I really was there to try to track down Lady Andaisin – that was true – but I had another mission, too. That whole business with me wanting to talk to Salvatore Scream, and other people who had been ‘touched’? Well, the ‘muse’ who had ‘touched’ them was really the power of Kazavon, and I was there looking for evidence of him. See …”

Shadowcount Sial interrupted her. “I’ll explain.” He had a cultured voice, his accent bearing traces of a Chelish upbringing. “We are here as a result of Miss Vaus’s enthusiastic” (he said that like it was a bad thing) “recommendation of you, with a proposition for a partnership. Please indulge me in a short historical digression, as a way of setting the stage for our proposal. As you may have learned, the blue dragon Kazavon was once the Midnight Lord’s greatest champion, spreading pain and suffering in Zon-Kuthon’s name throughout Belkzen and Ustalav. But the power that Zon-Kuthon granted Kazavon filled him with heretical hubris; he thought he could become a god himself and supplant Zon-Kuthon. When the Knights of the Palatine Eye attacked Kazavon, the Midnight Lord withheld his protection and allowed Kazavon to be defeated.

“Yet Kazavon’s soul would not rest. The powers that had fueled him in life struggled to bring him back from death. Mandraivus took the seven indestructible remnants of Kazavon and had his followers scatter them to the corners of Golarion, and beyond, to prevent them coming together to resurrect the wyrm. But Zon-Kuthon knows that mortal men cannot protect these relics for eternity. Sooner or later, they will be found – as your Queen has shown. She is not the first, nor will she be the last – unless we can prevent it.

“You see, we are members of a secret organization within the Church of Zon-Kuthon, The Brotherhood of Bones. The Brotherhood of Bones exists to track down each of the relics of Kazavon and recover them, to deliver them to Zon-Kuthon so that he may deal with his rebellious servant. To date, we have found but one, the Ribs of Kazavon, and they now hang in the vaults of Xovaikain, in the Realm of Shadow.

“We have long suspected that the Fangs of Kazavon lay somewhere in Varisia, but knew not where. Miss Vaus’ investigations in Korvosa revealed that they were there, but also that your Queen had already fallen victim to their power. Now that they have been forged into her Crown and merged with her soul, they are all but indestructible. Only a blow from a sword forged by a once-mortal god can destroy the Crown of Fangs. Fortunately, the blade Serithtial was forged by Iomedae herself, centuries before her ascension. It is your only hope for defeating your Queen and saving your city.

“We know that your intent is to travel to Castle Scarwall to seek Serithtial. That is a dark and dangerous place, once the greatest shrine to Zon-Kuthon outside Nidal. Having followers of Zon-Kuthon with you as you explore the Castle may be of great assistance; indeed, there may well be places within Scarwall that are accessible only by followers of the Midnight Lord. We ask that you permit us to accompany you on your quest. We pledge to provide you all the aid we can, and you do not need to fear us taking Serithtial from you – that blade was forged specifically to destroy followers of Zon-Kuthon, and we are incapable of even touching it. All we ask is that if you succeed in defeating your Queen, and destroying her Crown, that you turn over the Fangs of Kazavon to us, to take them out of mortal reach forever.”

Laori spoke up again, unusually serious. “Look – I know we’re not exactly on the same team. But I promise you – you can trust us. We really do want the same thing.”

Wren was more than a little skeptical. “Why should we trust you? You admitted you lied to us before – how do we know you’re not lying now? Why didn’t you just tell us the truth in the first place?”

“Gee, what part of secret society didn’t you understand?” Laori responded. “The only reason we’re telling you now is that we need your help, and want to help you. When I met you before, I had no idea this is where it was all going to lead.”

“You have to understand that the existence of The Brotherhood of Bones is one of our Church’s greatest secrets,” Shadowcount Sial added. “The Church does not wish it known that one of Zon-Kuthon’s most powerful servants turned against him. We serve the Midnight Lord not only by tracking down Kazavon’s relics, but by suppressing all trace of his existence.”

Nat was listening to all this very carefully. “OK, but if we’re going to trust you, can we get some sort of contract, in writing, as to just what you’re agreeing to do, with an escape clause for us if you don’t hold up your end of the agreement?”

The Shadowcount turned on him. “I have given my word! We are not some bureaucratic Asmodeans, churning out complex contracts that are written to deceive and corrupt. You may not accept our god, but he demands that we conduct ourselves with honor, and that we prove our self-discipline and obedience through constant self-sacrifice and pious torment.” There was a particular vehemence in his voice as he strove to set himself above the worshippers of the patron god of his Chelish homeland, and for the first time they noticed that he was missing the little fingers of each hand.

“I think we can trust them,” Shadow said emphatically. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Laori’s skin-tight bodysuit since she came in.

“Well, they’re certainly offering more help than our so-called ‘friends’,” Wren said caustically. “I mean they didn’t come in here saying ‘if you do this and this and this, we’ll give you a little information’. They’re willing to put their lives on the line and fight with us - right?” Sial and Laori both nodded, as Asyra looked on impassively.

That seemed to settle the matter. The newcomers took the room next to the party’s, and they fell into a somewhat uncomfortable routine. Shadowcount Sial was polite, but with a distinct air of superiority; he had an a grating tendency to speak to them very slowly, as if to children. He also seemed to grit his teeth every time Laori opened her mouth. Shadow and Laori flirted incessantly, and Sial often seemed more an annoyed chaperone than her superior. Erin decided she kind of liked the old man, and hoped he’d help impose some discipline on the rest of the party.

On the sixth day after their arrival, there was another knock on the door. A young dwarf stood outside (they could tell he was young because his beard was only a few inches long). “Master Glimkirkis has some information for you at the library,” he declared. They gathered Laori and Sial from next door, and hurried to the library.

They were shown to a small office off the main stacks. The sage had heavy tome open on the table before him. Its pages were crumbling and the runes on the pages were unfamiliar. “I found a reference to Castle Scarwall in The Seventh Chronicle of Saint Ferais, Dragon Slayer. Saint Ferais was a follower of Aroden who devoted her life to the study and eradication of dragons. Her Chronicles are a combination of a description of her feats, and a catalog of the most notorious dragons of history. There’s some debate among historians about whether St. Ferais actually killed all the dragons claimed in the Chronicles, or if she was given credit for others’ work. But that’s really neither here nor there for your concern, as she makes no claim on the demise of your Kazavon.” He ran his finger down the page, then began to read:

‘Born of tainted womb and dragon lust, the Beast did crawl forth, shrieking and spitting lightning and eating of its week-dead parents’ flesh. Blood-born and twisted, terrible and enraged, even the promised centuries of cruelties and slaughter would never quell the shattered paragon's bloodlust. And the Lord of Agonies smiled. Here was his will made flesh. And so he gifted the Beast with two natures, to spread terror and pain, shadow and suffering in mortal guise, mortal cunning in dragon form, this despoiler, this abomination, this Beast called Kazavon.’

“And so on and so forth. It goes on to say that Kazavon built a mighty fortress named Scarwall in the crater of Mt. Dou-Bral, an extinct volcano on the easternmost arm of the Kodar Mountains, overlooking the Dretha Gap.” Nat was fascinated by the tome on the table, but everyone else saw Laori and Sial exchange a look at the mention of Mt. Dou-Bral. Master Glimkirkis unrolled a detailed map of Avistan and traced his finger north from the Orc capital of Urgir. “That would put it here,” he said, stabbing his finger onto a spur of mountains. “That’s about 350 miles from here, as the crow flies, but that’s dangerous country betwixt here and there. First, there’s the Cinderlands, and the Shoanti Quah might be the least of your dangers there. Then there are dozens of orc clans in the Hold of Belkzen. If you’re set on traveling to this Castle Scarwall, I’d suggest ensuring you’ve got some means of extra-planar travel.”

The party thanked the sage, and paid his promised fee. Nat stayed behind to study the map, to prepare himself to teleport the party to the vicinity of the mountain, while the others returned to the inn. Once in the safety of their room, Wren turned to the Kuthites. “OK – what’s the deal with this ‘Mt. Dou-Bral’? What’s so special about that place?”

Shadowcount Sial shrugged. “Mount Dou-Bral? I’ve never heard of it before today. But the name ‘Dou-Bral’? It’s very significant. Dou-Bral was the half-brother of the goddess Shelyn.” Wren frowned – she’d never heard that the goddess had a brother of any sort, nor had she ever heard of a god named Dou-Bral. The Shadowcount continued his story. “In the Age of Creation, Dou-Bral grew jealous of his sister’s talents. He abandoned Golarion for the dark places between and beyond the planes. No one knows what he encountered or experienced there, but the one who returned was not Dou-Bral. He was twisted, possessed of a marvelous and malevolent power, and he called himself Zon-Kuthon. It makes sense that Kazavon, Zon-Kuthon’s greatest acolyte, would build his stronghold on a mountain named for his patron’s former identity, the self that he sacrificed to become the god that we worship today.”

The party spent a few more days in Janderhoff, completing their purchases, waiting for items to be upgraded and enhanced, scribing spells and scrolls. At last they were ready to depart. They gathered in their rooms. “We’ll meet you there!” Laori said with a cheerful wave. Then she blew out a candle, took Sial and Asyra by the hands, and disappeared into the shadow. Then the rest of the group linked hands, took a deep breath, and Nat cast his spell.

They felt the lurch of being transported between planes. When they reappeared, they were in a barren landscape, with scrub brush and wind-gnarled trees the only vegetation. A range of mountains rose before them; the nearest had the truncated top that marked it as a volcano. Nat pointed up at the mountain. “That’s Mt. Dou-Bral.”

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This marks the end of Book 4: History of Ashes. The PCs earned 8,533 XP for the night, putting them at 200,435 with 210,000 required for Level 13. You’ll likely reach that during next week’s session, so have your new characters ready to go.