*Citadel, late at night*
A young woman sits writing at a desk. She is small with short brown hair and wears the telltale signs of a
busy alchemist on her clothing.
The room around her is cleanly organized into a small laboratory. Glassware and supplies all neatly
arranged, with small flames cooking up ingredients into the magical potions and elixirs she knows will be
needed.
“Well, this is comin along.”
She’s writing a letter to someone she refers to as master, and details some of the many challenges she
has faced since leaving the Hall of Artisans.
She describes the human stampede that cost several people their lives as a fire started in the town hall
while the call to heroes was happening. The efforts of the three heroes, herself included, were all that
stood between those townsfolk and complete disaster… and yet, according the culprit who they later
caught, the fire only happened because of the their presence. Calmont,
the Halfling in question, had discovered some sort of magical anomaly in the nearby
abandoned fortress, and thought summoning a fire mephit in a crowded place was going to scare the
heroes away.
“Not so abandoned though, as a clan of goblins been living here for months”
“He claims”, she says in her letter, “to have found some sort of artifact.
I know this would be of great interest to you, master Giesewon, so I bring it up… But I must say,
something doesn’t feel right. I am not as attuned as some of my school mates, and still, this place gives
me the willies.”
She continues to write that, perhaps it was the activities of the Order of the Nail, who’s property this
was until just a few years ago, that might have done something unusual. There was after all a room
dedicated to the summoning of devils to practice killing them.
“You can still smell the sulfur, most days…”
She goes on to tell the story of Calmont, who by his account was following in the footsteps of his employer.
He said she was the one who was compiling notes, buying obscure books of religion and
arcana, following fragments of ancient history. She had employed him to tend to her store, The Reliant
Book Company, so she could focus on her research.
“When we went to see about speaking to her, she was gone. Skipped town and left nothing but a deadly
trap instead. Almost lost a friend then... A few of her papers were left lyin about though.
We discovered she had made a breakthrough by dredging up the corpses of the old knights who rest
below the keep.
Necromancy. Foul stuff”
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footfalls fills the hall nearby and a man’s voice rings out:
“Evie, Evie! I need some help.. The goblins want to help but they’re making everything harder… can we
give them something to make them smarter?”
“Oh sure, sure.. lemme cook summin up”
Some time later, Evie returns to her letter.
“Now, where was I”
She recounts the path they took to discover Calmont at the citadel, somehow holding the goblins there
hostage to force them to show him to the powerful relic.
“Which they knew nothing about, of course”
“So in we went, all hero like, to rescue the Bumblebrashers.”
She describes a series of events that almost cost each of them their lives at the hands of giant lizards,
giant turtles, a giant bat… and a warg.
“After all that’s when things went proper sideways. It turns out there really is something below… a
gateway… and some mad cultists found their way through. They’d been runnin amok in the lower levels
for days, tryin to figure out a way to open it up proper to let the rest of them through.
“Just the beginning, one of em said… Before his neck started leakin.
It’s all really a long story, but I thought I should share some of it… in case something bad happens to me.
It’s not all doom and gloom though; the pally we’re with found the deed to the citadel, so we live here
now I guess...”
She continues her letter with details of the goings on in the town, the amazing things she’s learning, and
we slowly back away from her.
Our view passes through the door behind her, out through the corridors and courtyard of the recently
renovated Citadel Altarein.
Panning over the wall, then the forests, and then the five kings mountains, we go south. Too fast to see
any of the details, but as the sun rises, we see the outline of a great city getting closer.
Perspective turns from forward to downward, swooping over the densely packed urban center.
Almas.
People mill about, carrying fish and other goods from what appears to be a busy dock market. The
sounds of waves and gulls fill the air.
We come through the open window of an establishment registered outside as the (Prancing Pony), then
further through a slight gap in the wood panels at the back of a sparsely stocked closet.
The hidden entrance gives way to a candlelit chamber occupied by three figures. Two sit across a desk
from a third, who’s posture and confident demeanor indicate status. The figure is slight, adorned with a
set of crimson robes lined with gold trim, which shimmers slightly in the candlelight.
He looks across his desk at the two before him, careful not to reveal his face from under his hood.
The two figures seated before him are an odd pair. One sits slumped with her head hung low, as though
barely conscious. Her hair hangs over her face and slight line of drool escapes her mouth as she takes a
breath.
The other, a straight backed and severe woman, wears a stoic expression. Her tightly bound white hair
sweeps back almost to the floor, her features hawklike and predatory in the dim light.
“So” says the crimson cloak, “I understand your plan was… halted, by a couple of amateurs?”
Stung by the embarrassment, she sneers.
“My good for nothing apprentice couldn’t keep his bloody mouth shut. He tried to take it all for himself
and drew attention to me.”
Her face reddens as she continues:
“I had everything under control. I found the entrance to the ring, negotiated a deal with the mercenaries
in Guardian’s Way, left all the traps I could… I bloody well had to bargain with a Tixitog.”
She takes a moment to look over at the woman seated next to her and sneers again.
I was well underway to discovering the true nature of the Citadel, if I just hadn’t had to leave in such a
hurry I wouldn’t have left any of my notes. That’s what led them to Guardian’s Way.
With an upheld hand, the crimson clad man silences her.
“I have heard enough of this litany of your failures, Voz. Just tell me, what have you to trade for our
investment.”
Voz’s gaze finally breaks as she looks away. Afraid, it seems, at the implication of his need for a direct
response and nothing more.
“I didn’t make it all the way down. I know there’s something down there… I can feel it. The ley lines are
too strong…”
“Your feelings are worthless. The Triad’s investment in your venture shall have to be – postponed – until
such a time as you can make yourself useful.
You can begin to regain our interest by taking this recruit to the ship called Promise. It will be out in the
harbor tonight. All you need to do is keep her alive until the ship arrives at its destination. A trifling
matter for such a learned scholar as yourself.” The grimace across the man’s mouth belies the insult it
was meant as.
“Do this, and we shall speak again of your project.”
The man begins to scrawl, and the view once again pans down. Looking down on his desk, we rotate to
see the open pages of a ledger containing lists of names and destinations.
A luxurious emerald plumage adorns the quill in the man’s hand.
The sounds of the docks all fade away, leaving only the scratching of it’s tip against the page.
Our view closes in on the last name he is writing.
Ashlee Rose.
He shuts the ledger, and we see the symbol embossed on it’s leather.