Session 1 – The Cradle’s Secret
The Journey Begins
The adventurers gathered their supplies at dawn, just outside the quaint town of Rine’s Crossing.
Derek Dirkington, their purple-skinned, accented guide, revealed his discovery of ancient parchment fragments suggesting a startling truth: The Gemgori burial grounds of Etenward concealed the resting place of Aelith beneath its sacred mounds.
Unearthing Secrets
In their quest to identify the correct mound, Illidan employed his unique affinity for animals, enlisting the aid of a local badger.The badger, eager and chatty, was eager to help as long as food was on the horizon, “Meat? Oh, I’ll dig for meat! But that long-eared fellow looks nice, too!”
As the creature diligently burrowed, Rabbert encountered a Gemgori, Ro’rotore intrigued by their venture. Rabbert’s diplomatic skills shone as he shared knowledge of Etenward’s old name, earning the Gemgori’s trust and insight into the area’s lore.
The Gemgori accompanied Rabbert to the ancient burial mounds and told the story of Thurgo, one of the Gemgori leaders that led the conflict against the Leonin nearly 500 years ago.
“Thurgo was one of our greatest, a leader who shaped history during the War of Clashing Claws. His fame was sealed at the Battle of Thorned Valley, a land treacherous as the conflict itself.”
He paused, his gaze distant. “Thurgo used the valley’s deadly terrain to our advantage, leading a surprise attack at dawn. With Tarr’um, his great axe, he broke the Leonin lines, turning the tide of war.”
Ro’rotore’s voice held a note of pride. “That battle not only won us the valley but paved the way for peace. Thurgo was more than a warrior; he was a unifier. His resting place here is sacred, a symbol of our enduring spirit.”
As the tale was told, the blue wisps around the mounds began to twist and take shape in the form of ethereal spirits, walking circles around the tomb of Thurgo. This, Ro’rotore revealed, was the reason this area was chosen for Thurgo. The Gemgori believed that this particular area was where the land spoke to his people that it was where the sacred burial should take place.
As dusk approached and the Gemgori departed, a revelation struck: Thurgo’s mound, a site of great Gemgori heritage, was the entrance to Aelith’s tomb. The ethereal guards had been guarding this land before Thurgo, because they were actually guarding the tomb of Aelith. The group excavated the mound, uncovering the tomb’s entrance while grappling with the morality of disturbing Thurgo’s resting place.
The Tomb’s Trials
As the adventurers crossed the threshold into the Antechamber of Enlightenment, a sense of awe washed over them. The chamber, a testament to the celestial and the arcane, was bathed in a gentle luminescence. Above, the high ceilings were adorned with murals that seemed to capture the very essence of the cosmos, depicting the divine odyssey of Aelith through star-strewn heavens. These images pulsed with a soft light, as if stars themselves were caught in the paint and plaster.
In the northwest corner, pedestals stood like silent sentinels, each cradling an ethereal crystal. The crystals, aglow with a serene light, seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy, casting prismatic reflections across the room’s stone walls. The air here was thick with a sense of enlightenment, as if the very room breathed wisdom and tranquility.
Opposite these pedestals, the adventurers noticed crates and barrels stacked neatly in the corners. They approached cautiously, aware of the sanctity of their surroundings. Inside the crates, they discovered an array of artifacts and ceremonial items, each imbued with the aura of the ancient and the mystical. Among these treasures, they found shirts not woven from cloth but crafted from a metal as fine as thread, shimmering like gold in the form of a flying dove.
The allure of these shirts was undeniable. Three of the adventurers, drawn by the craftsmanship and the mystery of the material, carefully took the shirts, tucking them into their bags with a mix of reverence and curiosity. They were mindful not to disturb the tranquility of the chamber, yet the allure of these artifacts, remnants of a bygone era, proved too compelling to resist.
As they moved through the Antechamber, the sense of serenity remained with them, a quiet reminder of Aelith’s eternal journey through the stars. The room, a bridge between the earthly and the celestial, left a lasting impression on their hearts and minds, embedding itself in their memories as they continued their exploration of the tomb.
The Inner Sanctum
The Sanctum of Celestial Craftsmanship opened its doors to the adventurers, revealing a realm where artistry and spirituality converged in a beautiful symphony. Upon entering, they were greeted by the sight of a celestial loom, its grandeur commanding the southwest corner of the room. It stood as a testament to the divine craftsmanship, surrounded by benches and shelves laden with the tools of a bygone artisan era and scrolls of ancient celestial lore.
Ethereal figures, ghostly in their form, moved around the room with a silent grace. These spirits, remnants of celestial artisans, were absorbed in their eternal tasks, weaving and crafting as if time had no hold over them. Their ghostly hands worked with an ethereal material, demonstrating the celestial artistry cherished by Aelith.
Rabbert, with his keen interest in the arcane and the historical, was drawn to a massive bookcase filled with tomes. Each book was an account of a believer of Aelith, a personal testimony of faith and devotion. With the use of ‘Comprehend Languages,’ he delved into the writings, uncovering stories that spanned eons, each a unique perspective on their divine shepherd.
However, the sanctum held its secrets closely. As Rabbert reached out to grasp one of the tomes, he found himself suddenly paralyzed, frozen in time as if touched by Aelith’s hand himself. His companions, quick to react, pulled him away from the bookcase. It was then they discovered the key to interacting with these sacred texts – a word of peace. The ethereal figures spoke to Rabbert: “Friend or Foe?” Through quick thinking, Rabbert and Illidan managed to find a way to respond: “Friend” spoken to the ethereal artisans, granted them safe access.
In their exploration, Rabbert discovered a hidden door behind the bookcase. Carefully, he maneuvered the books, creating a passage to the next chamber. As each adventurer attempted to navigate through this narrow gateway, Cetiri’s passage was not as smooth. Her movement sent books tumbling, and like Rabbert before, she was paralyzed by the sanctum’s protective magic.
This disturbance awakened the ethereal guardians. They coalesced into more solid forms, attacking the party, their touch attempting to drain the very life essence from them. Rabbert, caught in their ethereal grasp, experienced a rapid aging, his form momentarily transforming into a potted plant – a peculiar and unexpected twist of fate.
The battle that ensued was a dance of light and shadow, as the adventurers fought to repel these guardians of knowledge. With skill, wit, and a dash of luck, they managed to overcome the spectral assailants, emerging largely unharmed from the encounter.
The Guardian’s Challenge
The Chamber of the Final Guardian revealed itself to the adventurers as a sanctum carved from the dreams of the devout, an architectural hymn to the celestial. They stepped softly, their footfalls hushed against the stone floor, as they took in the grandeur before them. Curved walls arched hundreds of feet in the air. The back wall was etched with construction and symbols that were nearly unrecognizable. A design that was beyond mortality, not of the elegant designs of the elves or the master stonework of the dwarves. At the chamber’s heart rose a dias of stone, fifteen feet high and at least 25 feet long.
In the solemn grandeur of the Chamber of the Final Guardian, the air, thick with ancient magic, trembled as the figure of Archeron began to manifest before the awestruck adventurers. From the ether, a being of majestic power coalesced; his presence was an overwhelming force of sanctity and authority.
Archeron, with his white, faceless head, became the focal point of the chamber, a silent, inscrutable mask that defied the adventurers to decipher any hint of thought or emotion. He was a vision of divine might, with four sets of resplendent wings unfurling behind him, each feather shimmering with the purity of fresh snow under the kiss of dawn. His form was adorned in armor of gold and white, the very essence of celestial splendor, with intricate filigree that told of an artistry beyond mortal ken.
Archeron’s voice, a deep and ancient whisper, resonated within the stone walls, “Brave adventurers, you stand in the sacred Chamber of the Final Guardian. I am the eternal protector of Aelith’s sanctum. Your presence here is not taken lightly. Speak, and let your intentions be known.”
The adventurers shuffled uneasily, the truth of their quest – to open Aelith’s tomb – a heavy secret on their tongues. They exchanged wary glances, each silently urging the others to voice a response that would not betray their true purpose.
Rabbert, the Harengon wizard, broke the silence with a measured response, cloaked in the guise of noble pursuit, “I wish to have knowledge. I want to know where the time magic is.” His answer hung in the air, a half-truth that rippled across the chamber.
In response, a vision struck him, a blinding cascade of cosmic creation that swept him across time and space, culminating in the image of a mage clad in rich green robes embroidered with a four-leaf clover entering the waters of the Taldash desert.
Rabbert’s vision disappeared. He had seen so much, but so little. And now he saw no more. His vision was gone. In aid, Illidan reached out his hand to help a friend. Slowly, the Harengon’s vision began to return. As did the silence, heavier now, filled with the unspoken. The silence was dotted was a dance of avoidance, a masquerade of half-truths, as the adventurers circled the heart of their quest and tried their best to not answer Archeron’s questions.
Archeron’s gaze pierced through the facade, his voice the harbinger of consequence, “Speak plainly. Does your compatriot wish to open this tomb?”
The question, sharp as a blade, cut to the core of their purpose. The adventurers stood, exposed, their mission laid bare by the celestial sentinel’s demand for truth.
It was Lyria who met the guardian’s unwavering gaze, her voice steady, though inside, turmoil reigned, “We seek… adventure, to understand the mysteries that you guard so fiercely. And the journey has already proven that successful. Let us leave and we will call this adventure finished.”
Archeron stood, the embodiment of celestial wrath, his voice resounding like a clarion call, “No. You will make your choice. Stand against the defiler of sacred tombs, or stand against me. Choose wisely, for the sanctity of this place shall not be sullied. Kill him, or I shall.”
The adventurers knew then that words would not suffice. The final guardian would not be swayed, and their quest hung precariously in the balance. As the tension reached its crescendo, Illidan whispered an incantation, a mark appearing visible only to his keen eye as he raised his bow…
