Odyssey of the Meridian Ghost

How we die

The dracolich was dead, as was Darah. The Deva heroically gave up his life that the undead dragon’s phylactery might be destroyed once and for all. Durandal’s magic made this sacrifice possible, the long standing prophecy of the lich-woman encountered so long ago fulfilled.

So much had been lost, kingdoms destroyed, populations wiped out, the southwestern edge of Faerun might never be returned to normalcy. Those lands are all but empty, a wasteland of crystal and blasted sand.

One threat was dealt with. The Company of the Shadowed Moon picked itself up, ragged and wounded. They returned to Arabel to recuperate; Darah was gone and soon Kith’vor received word that his father had passed away and he was being called home for the funeral.

The dwarf answered the summons like the dutiful son he was, and while Durandal and Remisce lamented the loss, Cormyr put out its own summons, the war against the Shadovar was beginning in earnest, and the King needed champions, men and women would would be the backbone of the Cormyrian army, soldiers and wizards who would stand against the might and magical cunning of the most dangerous empire of wizards that had ever existed.

How We Live

Chaos had erupted in the streets, the supposed defenders of the city, the Adamantine Golems infact were coffins, containing only deathknights in the service to Sapphiraktar the Blue. Blades were drawn as the Company of the Shadowed Moon took to battle fearlessly once again, as they had done so many times before. Across the city the drunk, mostly useless guards took up the fight as well, only 1 in 4 of the golem statues actually came to life and attacked, giving these poorly practiced guards the fight of their lives.

Sapphiraktar’s roar booms over the din of battle, death knights outside the great Mythal shield hack away, still hours from breaking through, but they are relentless.

The first day of Winter is almost here.

The more things change...

…The more they stay the same!” Remisce spat venomously as he slew the deathknight Sithas Tyrr for the second time; the “Paladin of Orcus” lost his grip on his massive two handed axe as he fell, its blade cutting into the stone floor as its razor edge connected with the grey surface. The deathknight’s axe had either been too slow to catch him, or Remisce’s armor to solid when it did connect to stop the Tiefling for long, who’s blade flashed as he tore into Sithas even as the gouts of unholy flame washed over him, causing pain, but only driving Remisce on harder. Durandal and Darah used waves of Arcane and Divine power to batter the Demiliches into submission (and then into oblivion).

Battered and out of breath the Company of the Shadowed Moon stood victorious over their undead combatants, and while healing potions had been used and though there was still another deathknight pounding savagely against the magical wall that was imprisoning him, the fall of Sithas Tyrr was more than a minor victory.

The Mythal Shield had been raised to protect the city, and the assassination attempt on the Baron’s life had failed…these events wouldn’t go unnoticed by Sapphiraktar the Blue, and the next move in this game of chess the dracolich will certainly reconsider.

While it isn’t quite the first day of winter yet, a cold feeling has settled over the city of Riatavin.

The Black Cathedral

Answers were held below.

The Warwizard Seh’rai hadn’t mentioned that the Brotherhood Malevolent was comprised entirely of female bandits, but then perhaps had didn’t know; this ruined Cathedral site was something he had only discovered in the notes of his predecessor.

While Remisce didn’t seem to mind (based on how he was leering at all the women) the rest of the Company of the Shadowed Moon seemed more concerned with what dangers would be below the forest floor, since the previous Warwizard had sealed the site off before going mad and killing himself.

They were right to be worried.

Below the barrier that Darah removed with the ritual scroll provided by Seh’rai there wasn’t much in the way of traps or denizens…but nor was this place deserted either. Perhaps by some magical accident the place now shared a closeness to the Far Realm, the air was tinged with the subtle madness of that terrible place; worse a thing or two had leaked onto the Prime Material Plane.

Pushed to their limits by being caught between a deadly Eye Tyrant Beholder and a massive Hydra, the Company of the Shadowed Moon didn’t have an easy time making it to the lowest chamber, but they did at last, discovering the Seer’s Stone at the bottom of a fifty foot depth of black water.

Darah took it upon himself (after some discussion) to cast a spell of water breathing on himself and to descend to the stone; finding it sheathed in a sphere of air that prevented the black water from touching it. While his companions above were assaulted by aggressive trees…Darah had a simple and pleasant time solving a few riddles before he was granted a vision of the immediate future as it pertained to the survival of Cormyr.

There was the Dracolich, “Sapphiraktar the Blue”, making trade with a Shadovar Prince, gaining some icon of great necromantic power in return for the promise of threatening the southern border of Cormyr with his undead horde.

Darah saw a future in which trying to fight a war on three fronts, Sembia (a Shadovar “protectorate” kingdom) to the east, the City of Shades from the north, and the undead horde from the south, Cormyr was consumed in fire and death, falling so far, never to return.

Darah saw the moment this future hinged upon, the instant upon which these events could possibly be averted: In three days. The first day of winter…and auspicious day for the casting of Necromancy…In the kingdom of Tethyr there was a city…“Riatavin”.

Riatavin was a city of wealth, sitting firmly on the main trade route between the northern kingdoms and Calimshan (now the Crystal Wastes) to the south, and it was about to be eaten by the undead; the numbers of the horde would swell and the fate of Cormyr would be sealed.

Preventing this would give them a chance, only a chance, to save Cormyr.

Just before the vision of the future ended, Darah was treated to a final vision of the ancient undead dragon who had slain the remainder of the Twisted Rune Cabal of liches and turned Calimshan into a graveyard, it was Sapphiraktar addressing his elite, his mightest servants in the moments before he would unleash them upon Riatavin, as the great dracolich spoke, his servants roared in furious dedication to him.

“…faithful, ambitious, enlightened…brethren”

“In but a single decade, a few mere swipes of the pendulum we have gathered a sacrifice to Orcus which will be made…legend.”

“Now that you have all left the weaknesses of mortality behind…the wither…the fear…the slow decay…you are now able to walk with me, this, the true path to freedom.”

“…And what is this path? This purpose? This meaning, for which we reap the lives of our foes?”

“It is nothing…There is no meaning, no purpose…We murder, we kill, it is mindless savagery…this world is mindless!”

“In mere hours hundreds of thousands will die. Guilty, innocent…strong and weak, honest and deceitful, all of them! They will scream, they will burn…and for no purpose but that might Orcus may revel in their bloodshed! …And in this void of purpose and fear we shall at long last be free! Go now my brothers and make this world BURN!”

With that, the last of the visions faded from Darah’s eyes. It was only three days until the first day of winter; three days to avert Riatavin’s fate and thereby Cormyr’s destruction. The Seer’s Stone had left Darah with the vague thought that Baron Wrenli of Riatavin would be of importance to saving the city, but no more information than that was understood.

One thing Darah knew however: three days was not a lot of time.

The Coming of the Crystal Wastes

“…Now, where did I leave off boy? We’ve covered a lot of this story since I started telling you the old tales of the Company of the Shadowed Moon, that fearless lot that crewed the Meridian Ghost….that’s right! We were just talking about that final showdown with the fallen angel, Ilythramaxen, “He Who Extinguishes the Sun”…quite a name, isn’t it boy?"

“…I’ve lost my place in the tales a little, probably dozed off for a bit when you went to get a drink…many things took place after the archangel was no more but..of all those tales and misadventures, all the dangers they would all pale in comparison to the danger and rewards that the Crystal Wastes would offer up.”

“..The Crystal Wastes? You’ve never heard? They had formerly been the great trade empire of Calimshan, but a civil war had wracked that country sometime after the Company of the Shadowed Moon set sail for Cormyr. The lich coven the Twisted Rune imploded after untold centuries manipulating the politics of Calimshan and their feud destroyed Calimshan…great armies of the Undead fought one another on the sands and in the cities, the living fled or were consumed by the violence…sometimes added to these terrible armies themselves.”

“Only one member of the Twisted Rune survived the conflict its said, master of Calimshan alone now, but the sands had been turned to glass from the unrestrained uses of terrible magic…still heated by a desert sun the place became more of a wasteland than it had been when it was just a desert…and undead roamed freely, much like darkest Thay.”

“Despite the former Calimshan being so far south from Cormyr this development was quite a threat to the forest kingdom…the trade routes suffered and the fortune of so many merchants suddenly changed…but worse…the rumors were that this undead menace was starting to creep north…and its target was rumored to be Cormyr itself…”

“…Aye, you are right boy! Cormyr at this time was already being threatened by the Shadovar to the north, so this trouble from the south was of grave concern, the kingdom of Cormyr was ill-equipped to deal with two massive threats on two fronts at the same time…”

“…but! This was the hour in which the Warwizard Seh’rai of Arabel would call upon his most trusted agents! They had handled tasks he thought impossible, he had seen them survive odds that no gambler would take, and they were ruthless, cunning and deadly to their foes! Yes, boy…this was the hour that the wise Seh’rai would call upon the Company of the Shadowed Moon, and task them with nothing less than the destruction of the threat of the Crystal Wastes…”

“First however…they would have to go to a place of woe, Seh’rai would send them somewhere that they could best discover what their next move would be, a terrible place…they used to call it….The Black Cathedral.”

The 19th Eclipse (part 4)

The world slowed down for a moment and the sorcerer Durandal spit blood from his mouth and began to summon fire to his hands again; the power running through his fingers gave him confidence despite the third wave of Silvery Host warriors cutting through the air towards the Meridian Ghost. Force Commander Dectaril had already been slain, and Durandal was starting to wonder how many angels the Silvery Host had left to throw at them.

The mithril hull of the ship barely quaked at all as the cannon fire roared from below the enchanted cannon calls destroying a number of approaching angels with lightning and ice; the deck of the flying ship tilted for a moment as it self-adjusted its pitch, they were speeding up now, heading back to the surface of the planet Toril, back home to the continent of Faerun.

The ship was gaining speed, since the release of the gnome god Nelebun the ship had show a greater speed than it ever had before, perhaps his presence had set the ship right at last. As the Meridian Ghost passed from the void between Toril and the 19th Moon, the metal hull of the ship started to heat up, glowing orange as the Meridian Ghost entered the atmosphere above the planet.

It was at this moment that Ilythramaxen, the Archangel of Vengeance, He Who Extinguishes the Sun, crashed down onto the deck of the ship; a great figure rising to nearly nine feet tall, black skin faceted like crystal and many, many unblinking eyes staring out from every facet on his body. He spread eight pairs of wings, sheathed in some kind of gold metal, and towered over those of the Company of the Shadowed Moon standing on the deck.

The Angel of Vengeance only asked where on the planet below the adventurers hailed from, presumably that he might destroy the place after killing them all here in retribution for his ruined plans.

“Thay, of course” Durandal said half sarcastically, Kith’vor was already running full tilt towards the leader of the Silvery Host hammer and shield at the ready and then Kith’vor simply vanished. As if Ilythramaxen had just winked him out of existence the dwarf was gone, Durandal released the fire he had been holding in the direction of the archangel unsure of what else to do in the face of such power.

Others were returning topside, Remisce drew his rapier and Church cast his runes about, a few cannons still fired from below, probably Darah and his goblin horde. Durandal thought of the blood had had spit from his mouth just a few moments ago, surely there would be more blood by the time this was over.

The 19th Eclipse (part 3)

The Company of the Shadowed Moon charged out of Deep Mountain, subduing and taking Aphoreth hostage despite the patrol of Silvery Host scouts that jumped to their Captain’s aid. While Captain Aphoreth didn’t survive the question at sword point, he did relay quite a bit of information to the party:

The Archangel Ilythramaxen once fought for his god during the Dawn War against the Primordials, but his god was slain and rubbed from existence, so powerful, so willful was Ilythramaxen that he took his remaining angelic hosts and fled the now burning realm of his god, swearing vengeance at any cost upon the primordial Imix who slew his master. This was ages ago, during was is known now as “The Astral Wanderings” the Archangel collected others to his cause of revenge, other angels who had lost their lords of whom there were so dedicated to.
The Archangel Ilythramaxen found through during the “Wanderings” that there was a place a void in the heavens above the Prime Material Plane that held the world of Toril; this would be a place that with sufficient preparation a singular attack could be launched into the realm of Imix the Primordial of fire, the Primordial who had destroyed the god that Ilythramaxen had served with so much fervor.

The Archangel had his scouts explore this void above Toril, and they found the perfect piece of ordinance to send through into Imix’s realm, the 19th hidden moon. However the moon was “inhabited” after a fashion, the gnomish god Nebelun the Meddler was here, possessing the form of an avatar, crafting sentient golems from the metallic sand, melting it down and forging a race that he hoped would be both inquisitive and cunning, worthy allies for his gnomish followers.

No other moon would serve the purpose the Angels were planning, they waited for their moment to strike, and they found it, during the Time of Troubles. The gods were cast from the heavens suddenly and in the moments when the Avatar of Nebelun realized he was now barred from his realm above in the Astral Sea, the Angels struck at him.

Many of the Silvery Host were destroyed trying to tame the Avatar of Nebelun, but eventually Ilythramaxen managed to harness the god’s spirit and entrap it within “The Silent Keystone”, an object of great power from another realm, the keystone trapped the god for the most part, but it could not contain quite all of his essence.

The Angel’s plan is almost come to fruition, they have enslaved Nebelun’s golems and tamed them, and they use them to carve magical runes all over the surface of the dark side of the unspinning moon (blasting them with fire to melt the runes in and make them permanent), these magic runes have taken decades to complete, turning the moon into a weapon that will rip through the fabric of the prime material plane, leaving a permanent hole as it blasts into the pyramid that hangs over the primal volcano where on Imix makes his lair, destroying the Primordial fire lord utterly.

The angels have worked tirelessly for nearly two hundred years, driving the golems on as slave masters, enchanting, and trying to drive away the lingering power (what they call corruption) of the essence of Nebelun, what the angels refer to as the “dark trickster”.

The Company of the Shadowed Moon did what they always do, something brash. Figuring that this Keystone must be in the Ziggaraut in the Radiant City they simply decided to raid the place and steal it, killing the few angelic guards within and taking the stone with little real difficulty. Then slipping away as quickly as they could and finding their way back to the Meridian Ghost (which most of the Silvery Host seemed to be searching for, violently), the Company of the Shadowed Moon gave the Keystone the their gnomish inventor, with the hopes that he might know a way to destroy it.

The gnome did in fact destroy almost upon the instant of touching the Keystone, it turns out that the largest portion of Nebelun’s essence had reformed into an immortal and insane gnome on Faerun about 100 years ago, and this gnome despite his madness, had managed to effect a rescue mission for himself, with the Company of the Shadowed Moon as his agents. Now the avatar of Nebelun once again the gnomish inventor went on to explain what he could, even as the Meridian Ghost started off back to Faerun.

“They keystone itself has become the firing mechanism for the moon, which will rip through the layers of the planes at an increasing velocity until it buries itself into the heart of the fire Primordial’s realm , this will have the unintended consequence of leaving a wound in the sky above Toril, through which demons and elementals all every tyrannical horror that exists in the Elemental Chaos will be able to escape through onto Toril.”

Elemental monsters and demons would pour from above, effectively ending all life on Toril under its evil tide. The moon’s firing process however cannot be enacted without the Silent Keystone, only the soul of a god will provided the catalyst needed to send the magical ordinance hurtling through the planes below, the release of Nebelun had rendered the angelic weapon useless.

The wrath of angels who had come to serve the concept of revenge however, would be pointed squarely at the Company of the Shadowed Moon.

The avatar of Nebelun apologized that he would not be able to help the party, the rules of the gods where quite clear, he must return to the Astral Sea, the gods had long been barred even in their Avatar form from the Prime Material Plane, and now that he was free of the Keystone, he must return. But, with a (still slightly insane) smile Nebelun assured the party that the Meridian Ghost was perhaps his greatest invention, at least the greatest invention lying around Faerun.

“The ship always knows where you need to go, trust in that.”, the divine gnome said as he started to fade from the Prime Material Plane, “And the cannons aren’t bad either”, he included with a wink.

With all these sudden revelations weighing on their minds, the Company of the Shadowed Moon heard the beating of large feathery wings, turning and drawing their weapons, they knew the Silvery Host, the angels of revenge, would soon be upon them.

The 19th Eclipse (part 2)

Foes fell and eventually the strange engine ground to a halt before the combined efforts of the Company of the Shadowed Moon, whatever power that flowed through this place was steadily winding down, and all was growing more silent. The party was however no closer to any answers about what was going on here on the 19th hidden moon of Faerun.

With nothing more to kill or break in the under halls of the old gnomish airship port, they made their way back to the bronze sand surface of the moon, preparing perhaps to set themselves back in the direction of the crashed Meridian Ghost.

Such thoughts were brought to an end however, as fiery meteors started crashing in the surrounding area, the Company of the Shadowed Moon started to run, trying to get away, but still the objects from the sky came, smashing through the hollow gnomish towers and blasting the landscape below, sending particles of the metallic sand cascading into the air. None of the party was hurt by this, none of the meteors really came that close, however from the smoking craters they left behind, stomping footsteps announced an approach.

From the smoking pits rose angels, armored in intricately carved golden plate mail, red cloaks push back from their shoulders and wings, powerful wings wide and brilliant white arched from their backs. Each of these two dozen angelic beings stood between seven and eight feet tall, and they strode quickly and purposefully; one step forward before all of his comrades, Captain Aphoreth" of the Silvery Host was how he named himself.

Surrounded by three dozen of so of these imposing armored figures, Durandal stepped forward to speak with them, hoping so soothe the angels before things turned violent. After a few questions, the angels seemed satisfied that the Company of the Shadowed Moon was not in league with the entity they called the “dark trickster”.

Captain Aphoreth explained that he and his patrol were part of the Silvery Host, an army of angels displaced after the Dawn War, these angels had lost the god they had chosen to serve when he was slain by a Primordial and had sent themselves to wander the Astral Sea instead of choosing another god to serve; eventually those wanderings brought the weary Silvery Host here, to the 19th moon, a place where the boarder between the Astral Sea, the Prime Material Plane and other points in the multi-verse were thin, allowing easy travel to those who know how.

Aphoreth offered to show the party of the Radiant City, the place where the angels lived here on the 19th moon while he explained further. While riding a chariot pulled by fiery bulls that took to the air, the angelic captain went on about how there had been no life here on moon when they arrived, save for the “dark trickster” and the twisted creatures that served him. The gnomes who built the tower were here only briefly, Aphoreth admitted that they had unfortunately been killed, having gotten caught in the crossfire between the angels and the tricksters forces.

The captain went on to explain that aside from fighting the twisted creations of the trickster, the angels mostly spent their time carving the surface of the dark side of the moon, since the 19th moon doesn’t have an orbit or rotation, one side is permanently in darkness, and there is where they carve runes of worship to their lost god; also that is where their city illuminates the outer sky from.

Upon reaching the Radiant City, the party could see that it was made up of short crystal buildings, odd for such tall creatures, that seemed to glow with a pale blue light from within; at the center of the city was a massive Ziggaraut, a temple of sorts that looked to be the only opaque building within the city. There the party met with Force Commander Dectarial, the second in command of the angelic host.

The angel Dectarial covered many of the same questions that Aphoreth had, but enlightened the Company of the Shadowed Moon to the fact that the only other structure on the 19th moon aside from the buildings of the Radiant city, was a place known as the Deep Mountain. The seat, apparently, of the trickster’s power. The trickster had managed to bar the angels from entering the place, their divine natures working against them, keeping them out; therefore Commander Dectarial saw fit to hire the Company of the Shadowed Moon to enter the place (with the promise of angelic forge weapons as payment) and to put an end to the trickster.

Within Deep Mountain the party found confusing things, it seem like the entire place was some kind of workshop wherein someone had been building bronze golem prototypes, there were older models of the kind of golems they had seem working on the surface to carve the angelic runes, since the angels said that they could not entire this place, it seemed that their story was in fact contradictory to this new evidence.

In the deepest chamber of Deep Mountain, the Company of the Shadowed Moon encountered the split personalities of the dark trickster, whom spoke in confused riddles, talking about how his spirit was locked away somewhere, in something, something cold and unmoving, yet fiery. The strain of speaking with the party seemed to take its toll on the trickster, and he soon faded from sight, leaving the party as confused as ever and now wary of the angels they had met.

The 19th Eclipse (part 1)

The Meridian Ghost hung in the void between heavenly bodies like a silver jewel adrift in a black sea; really though it was unfair to call this place a void when in fact it had teeming life to be found within it, life was presently trying to feed upon the crew of the Meridian Ghost.

The wispy gray-blue lights attacks en mass dislodging the gnome from his place at the helm, the ship started to list dangerously to the side and while the Company of the Shadowed Moon repelled the creatures eventually, the Meridian Ghost didn’t recover her equilibrium in time to avoid a crash landing.

The beautiful silvery ship came down hard, however it stayed intact even as it settled on the bronze, metallic sand of the 19th hidden moon of Faerun. The Company of the Shadowed Moon gazed over the fabled, alien landscape for the first time with little sense of what to do. There was magic all around them, it made the air heavy and humid to those sensitive to it, even now, turning to look at the ship as the gnome hustled about it to try and get it airborne again, the party could see its own magic glowing more brilliantly than ever.

This fact confused the party and made them wonder how a gnomish inventor with no apparent magical talent had crafted such a vessel, that mystery would seem to have to wait however, as the gnome instructed the Company of the Shadowed Moon to hurry off to the gnomish airship dock ruins, since that would be the best place to start looking for “He Who Extinguishes the Sun”. The gnome himself said he was going to stay and try and make the airship fly in this landscape, which it was having difficulty doing with the oppressive and pervasive arcane field that surrounded the moon.

The party summoned flying horses and rode through the alien winds, the breezes whispered names as they traveled, speaking of the “Trickster”, speaking of his darkness, and his second coming.

At the foot of the ruined gnomish towers the party encountered creepy little hairless goblin-like creatures who chattered away about the Trickster, they didn’t act violently towards the party and soon re-dug themselves under the metallic sand, but they were rather off-putting, these creatures seemed insane and corrupted somehow.

The Company of the Shadowed Moon cleared some rubble from the floor inside one of the hollow metallic towers, finding an entrance into the old gnomish workshops below. Down there machines sung in electronic voices to the Trickster, lifting their voices together in some kind of dissonant mimicking of a church choir. Down through the depths the party traveled until the found the central source of the power that was flowing through the subterranean facility.

There was a massive engine, twisted and corrupted by some alien power chugging away in the lowest depths of the facility, before they could explore its nature further however, nightmarish metal constructs fell upon the Company of the Shadowed Moon and forced them to defend themselves on the tracks above a poison waste.

A Dwarven history lesson

Following the instructions given by the late Laross De’gotha the Company of the Shadowed Moon approached the Citadel Adbar, a dwarven fortress of some magnificence. While this fortress itself didn’t have roots that traveled back quite 32,000 years to the separation of Toril and Abeir, it was one of the oldest (perhaps the oldest) dwarven citdel presently known in the Realms; beyond that fact it did house something almost no other place did, a dwarven museum.

What the dusty old museum curator had in his even dustier and older collection was fascinating (at least to dwarves); untold histories of the dwarven peoples going all the way back to the time of the “lost brotherhood” when a great rift took place between worlds and roughly half of the dwarven population was lost to some unknown fate.

The Curator let the party see his prized piece, a metal scroll that was supposedly the oldest dwarven artifact he had ever encountered; it relayed much of the story of the “lost brotherhood” of the dwarves, and it also told a tale of the “last forging”, a tail of the last item created before the separation of Toril and Abeir.

This item, a war-hammer by description, had been stolen by a black dragon mere days before the rift between the worlds took place; and the dragon’s lair, a singular smooth spire would be part of the world that was removed to Abeir. By some luck during the spell-plague, this spire-lair was part of “Returned Abeir” and was just a bit southwest of the dwarven fortress, since it was now nearly 32,000 years later surely the dragon was no more, even their kind didn’t live that long…but there was a chance that the last dwarven hammer still waited there.

The prospect of ancient artifacts as well as a dragon’s hoard was more motivation than the Company of the Shadowed Moon needed to explore the place, and after a short trip on the Meridian Ghost the party discovered the smooth spire, and found entrance inside by way of a water filled tunnel that passed underground and into the interior of the singular peak.

Unfortunately for the Company of the Shadowed Moon, the spire was a prison to a three-headed mutant red dragon, maddened by years of imprisonment and denial of his “right” to slaves as worship that most Abeir dragons expected from the “softling” races.

Unfortunately for the dragon, the Company of the Shadowed Moon needed practice fighting creatures of his type, and after a fierce, fiery confrontation the dragon’s imprisonment had come to an eternal end.

Higher up in the mountain spire, the party crossed paths with another dragon, and Ancient Gold; this dragon was not of Abeir but rather Toril and was the self stated “Champion of Lathander”. While Lathander had since become Amaunator the dragon champion had been apparently forgotten, so he had taken up the cause of imprisoning the three-headed monster below. The ancient gold dragon told the story of how when this lair returned to Toril, he came and slew the ancient red who was the previous occupant, the mutant dragon the party had slain below was one of the offspring of the ancient red, and the gold had intended to study (somehow) its strange three-headed nature, as this did not happen to dragons born on Toril.

The gold dragon had been resting for the last hundred years since the spell-plague and its defeat of the ancient red, still recovering from that battle, but he didn’t seem terribly upset that the three-headed dragon was no more, now his interests were in counting the red dragon’s hoard and awaiting the next command of Amaunator should he ever remember his champion.

The gold dragon willingly parted with the hammer of the dwarves, which was still apart of the hoard after so many thousands of years; he passed it to Kith’vor after a few moments consideration and let the Company of the Shadowed Moon head on their way, no worse for the wear.

The party told their Gnomish shipbuilder to set sail for Arabel as they took to the crew quarters to rest. Upon waking however, they found themselves in an endless sea of stars, standing on the deck of the Meridian Ghost they say the land below was farther away than ever before, and in the distance loomed the bronze orb that was the 19th hidden moon.


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