Rathimund is the youngest of five brothers (Drevin, Kevril, Mondus, and Torimund, being the others from oldest to youngest), born to Irrathelle Jondus and his wife Pevora. Jondus was a bit of a drunk and distant as a father; figuratively and often literally when he was away on business. Pevora frequently accompanied him on these trips. Growing up, Rathimund had a very close relationship with his brothers, especially with Torimund who, though a year older, looked enough like Rathimund that they were often regarded as twins. Since its inception, the Irrathelle clan had been merchants by trade, but Rathimund has never shown much enthusiasm for it. From early primary school, it was clear his interests lay in the more cerebral subjects; history, philosophy, sorcerous lore, and many others. This caused his father, who saw such pursuits as frivolous, no end of frustration. It also made him a target for teasing and outright bullying by many of his schoolmates, the most prominent of which was Tepet Keneiros Ryndis. Ryndis was a large, mean-spirited boy from a warrior House with a lot to prove, and he sought to prove it by kicking around everyone weaker than he. Rathimund's brothers looked out for him when they could, but all except Torimund had already completed primary school by the time things really began to get bad. Torimund was far more attentive to his martial arts studies than Rathimund was. On one particular occasion, shortly after Rathimund's fifteenth birthday, Torimund came to Rathimund's aid and delivered Ryndis a humiliating beating in front of many of the other students. Afterwards, most of the other boys left Rathimund alone, but Ryndis never forgot and still found ways to torment him whenever he could. Of course, all of that changed when Rathimund exalted at the age of sixteen.

Despite the resulting minor property damage due to fire, everyone's expectations had suddenly been turned on their heads by the arrival of the first Irrathelle Exalted in generations (the Dragon-Blooded heritage had always been much stronger on his mother's side). Rathimund wasn't sure how he felt about his sudden responsibility as a Defender of Creation, but the newfound respect and prestige were certainly nice. Now encouraged by his academic inclinations, Rathimund's family sent him to The Heptagram at great expense to complete his schooling in the hopes of someday providing House Nellens with another powerful sorcerer. Rathimund took to his studies like a fish to water, hungrily absorbing every scrap of knowledge his teachers put before him. One of his primary instructors, a kindly Fire-aspected sorcerer named Cathak Redoran Terenas, saw great potential in the young man and the two developed an enduring friendship. During his time at the school, Rathimund finally discovered that there was more to life than just studying. He made new friends, dated nubile would-be sorceresses, and imbibed copious amounts of alcohol at wild dormitory parties (After one embarrassing incident involving two female students, one minor Elemental, too much liquor, and not enough clothing, Rathimund took a personal oath swearing off alcohol). While at The Heptagram, he was happy for what seemed like the first time in his life.

After graduating with top honors, Rathimund returned to find home a much quieter place. His parents were still away much of the time, and all of his brothers had gone on to work for the family businesses as well. He made a decision that he had been coming to for quite some time: he needed to go out into the world and see what was there. Since his exaltation, Rathimund's thirst for knowledge had only increased. He wanted to see far off lands, uncover artifacts of ancient wonder, and unravel the secrets of the mightiest sorceries. He wanted to understand. With the recent return of the Scarlet Empress, it seemed likely that things were about to get interesting. Whether or not this is a good thing, remains to be seen.

— Travel Journal Day 1 —

So this is it. My first trip across the Inland Sea. Cousin Belak informs me that we're bound for Achmenis, a satrapy of House Nellens, aboard the trireme Starfall Blossom. Maybe the god of irony had a hand in the naming, because there's nothing blossom-like about the fragrance of this ship. The trip is expected to take three days. After we were underway, Belak summoned us below to explain the mission: travel to Achmenis and ensure the support King Socar for House Nellens. He said that the region had gone silent and no-one knew why, so cementing the support of the king will almost certainly involve clearing up whatever problem they're having.

After the briefing I was introduced to the other members of the team, cousins all. There's Isha, a slight woman with hair the color of mine, a sword as big as she is, and armor made of more jade than Father makes in a year. Next is Grantaire, tall and dark, favors the bow, and includes his own personal retinue of armed guards. Finally, there's Azralon, tall, tattooed and pale-haired, and dripping with entitlement. An odd assortment, to be sure, but I've heard it said that adventuring parties are invariably composed of people whom you would never, ever find hanging out together in polite society. So, all told, I think we're doing pretty well. I think most of the people here are afraid I'm going to burn the ship down to the waterline, or something.

— Travel Journal Day 1, Cont. —

Not even a full day out and already things are getting interesting. A pair of (presumably) pirate vessels attacked us towards the end of the first day. They were spotted while they were still miles distant, and had we a ship better suited to travel in open water, we might have outran them. Since we weren't going to lose them, it was decided to up oars and left them come to us. Grantaire and I went up into the crow's nest, Isha stood ready to defend the deck, and I didn't see where Azralon got off to. The rest of the crew and retainers retreated below decks.

The two ships came in on either side of us and began trying to snare us with grappling hooks. The two of us in the crow's nest began firing into the ship to our port side, Grantaire sniping at officers and I trying to take out groups of boarders that bunched up too close. I believe that Isha was down on the deck cutting the grappling lines, but at about that time I was taking return fire from the pirate archers and hadn't much time to gawk about. I'd never been shot at by someone who was actually trying to kill me before. Regardless, we quickly took the fight out of the port side ship, and they began to drift off, but by then the starboard ship had latched on and was trying to board. Grantaire and I began directing our shots to the other ship, and Isha began squashing the poor sons-of-bitches that tried to make it over.

And that was pretty much that. The rest of the pirates surrendered. Their captain was dead, apparently Azralon's work. None of the survivors claimed to have any knowledge of their plan or purpose. Documents recovered from the captain's quarters indicated that this was not a random pirate raid, and that they had targeted our vessel with the intent to capture a particular person, a woman that no-one remembers seeing before. I don't feel quite so paranoid yet to go looking for conspiracies under every stone, so I'll operate under the assumption that a simple case of mistaken identity due to dumb-ass pirates is the root cause. For now. In any case, the group decided to commandeer the faster ship, so we should make much better time from here on out. We even ended up with some pirate booty (in the form of rather boring trade goods). All I can say is I'm glad someone around here has a better handle on all this nautical business than I do.

— Travel Journal Day 2 —

We made it to Galba a full day ahead of schedule, and waiting for us in the harbor was an enormous black dreadnought, easily four times the size of our stolen pirate ship. The thing made my hair stand on end just by looking at it. There was an exchange of signals that I couldn't follow, but apparently the gist of it was they were asking our intentions, which we replied were to dock at the port. They warned us away from doing so, claiming there was some sort of plague in the city, to which we replied that we would dock anyway. Then they requested that we come aboard. This, to me, seemed like a fantastically bad idea. But, it was clear that if these “people” wanted to bring us an unpleasant end, their ship could very likely have done so at any time they liked. So, fools that we are, we paid a social call to the ship of the damned.

Once aboard, a dead man greeted us and took us to see the Anathema in charge. He introduced himself as Piercing Voice of Winter and claimed that he was there investigating the plague, which apparently has spawned a large number of hungry ghosts. The man was all oozy charm and kept needling at Isha, reminding me for all the world of a man trying to pick up a woman in a tavern, right down to a “Don't I know you from somewhere?” remark. He wanted us to return any of our findings about the plague to him. Azralon took over the negotiations at that point, and an agreement was eventually reached, complete with written contract. What is it with these Underworld types and contracts? I can't help but feel like I've signed away a wafer-thin slice of my soul. Still happy with not being killed, we got the hell out of there and back to our ship. From here, the plan is to wait out the rest of the night in the harbor, then investigate the city in the light of day, when the hungry ghosts will be dormant.

— Travel Journal Day 3 —

At dawn, Isha, Grantaire, Azralon, and myself embarked from the ship and walked into a horror. The city seemed dead. Rotting corpses lay everywhere. I could have immolated the ones we found, but it seemed a futile gesture. We made our way to the Nellens compound and found it shut against us. A voice from inside called on us to turn back. We identified ourselves as proper House agents and were admitted inside with little difficulty. The situation, it seemed, was worse than we had surmised. The plague had struck without warning and no-one knew its origin. The survivors had made attempts to get messengers out, but clearly none had made it. We met with the elderly House Nellens emissary Fazuul, a man gravely injured, perhaps mortally so. He said that he and his family were attacked by hungry ghosts while entering the town following a celebration for his daughter's recent exaltation, leaving his wife dead and him terribly wounded. He, his daughter Song (a wood aspect, as it happens), and a man named Walking In Sunlight managed to make it to the compound, but then the girl left again with Sunlight, with some sort of plan in mind. It seems this man is a member of a secret cult to the god Adorned In Brass, and it is towards a temple to this god called the Abbey of the Lambent Brazier that the pair are supposedly heading. This had occurred two or three days before our arrival. With no other leads at this time, it seems like this temple should be our next stop.

— Travel Journal Day 6 —

It's even worse than I feared. Near as I can tell, the plague is magically spread through intimacies, personal connections between people. Positive or negative, it doesn't matter. Therefore, any conventional attempts at quarantine are useless. Though I hate to admit it, I'm not sure how much more we can do for these people, as the more we help them, the more we become vulnerable to the plague as well. I believe the only hope for this city, this region, is to find the source. We've determined that, for whatever reason, the local faithful of this Adorned in Brass entity seem to be immune to the plague. I've a suspicious enough mind to see that, if a god were looking to win a lot of new converts on the quick, offering salvation from a debilitating plague might be an effective way to do it. And even if he isn't behind it, he clearly has some means to combat it, and may be able to point us in the direction of whomever or whatever is responsible. On that thought: a nasty disease that kills people faster the more they care about each other? Sounds like the sort of gratuitously-evil thing some nasty Anathema might conjure up, perhaps like our new buddy Piercing Voice of Winters out in the harbor.

We've gathered what survivors and provisions we could find into more easily defensible areas with enough salt to put together some basic precautions against hungry ghosts. We don't know how many of them are out there, but I suspect too many to fight effectively at this time. I've managed to get a general indication on where this Abbey of the Lambent Brazier is from some of the cultists. It's apparently far to the south along the river, which is the route we need to take to get to the capital anyways. We've also managed to locate a mostly-intact river craft owned by a Captain Bounding Flame, who has agreed to take us upriver, if we can get his vessel seaworthy. (Or riverworthy? Damn nautical crap.) The repairs should take a couple more days, after which we will bring Grant's retainers in and get the hells out of here.

— Travel Journal Day 10 —

It's getting progressively hotter. Azralon had begun to show symptoms of the plague shortly after we set out, but as we traveled farther from Galba, the sickness faded. It appears his particular brand of diplomacy made quite an impression on the locals. We've passed several small fishing villages on the banks of the river, but many of them appeared to be abandoned. Beyond them is nothing but desert sands as far as the eye can see. I had no idea this sort of travel could be so dull, with the exception of one major bit of excitement.

The previous night, we were awakened by the sounds of something large thumping against the hull. Isha and Grantaire went topside to investigate, and found the ship under attack by a water dragon! The creature seemed to be trying to wrap it's serpentine body around the ship, likely to crush and sink it. Even so, the beast didn't have much fight in it. Isha chopped at the tail until the creature revealed it's head, and then Grantaire began shooting arrows into it. Azralon and I combined powers and gave the thing a good hit to the face as well, for which I was rewarded with a painful burn when it breathed a cloud of scalding steam through our porthole. I understand the Isha finished the thing with an impressive flying sword leap into it's head (and needed to be fished out of the river afterwards), but my eyes were watering too much to see it for myself. Thereby, the mighty beast was vanquished with only minor damage to the ship.

— Travel Journal Day 12 —

A troubling encounter today. For a while now, we've spotted metallic glints and signs of movement out in the sands beyond the river, appearing to shadow our course, and today some of these watchers chose to show themselves.

We had been forced to stop because of a sandbar clogging the main river way. Experiments proved that the river to either side of the sandbar was too shallow for the boat to traverse unaided, so a plan was formulated to pull the ship through with rope from the shoreline. While the rank-and-file soldiers set up on the shore and sandbar, the rest of us stood watch. On each shore, a group of ten armed strangers had appeared, keeping their distance but watching our efforts carefully. Eventually, however, just watching no longer suited them and they came at us firing arrows. One group was dispatched quickly, and the other fled into the desert. Upon investigation of the fallen, there was evidence to indicate these were some more cultists of Adorned in Brass, but more importantly it was immediately apparent that their spears and arrows had no sharpened points! They had been attacking us with harmless sticks.

I am of two minds about this. On one hand, we responded to what appeared to be a very real attack upon our persons. Those men ignored our attempts at communication and then came at us offering violence and we defended ourselves. Perhaps such a group of ordinary mortals isn't much of a threat to a group of Dragon-Blooded, but we had the rest of our crew to consider. In a similar situation, I would likely make the same decision again.

On the other hand, I am troubled that those men didn't need to die. What could have motivated those men to attack a large, clearly armed group with no hope of winning? There are easier ways to commit suicide. Given the secrecy Adorned In Brass likes to surround himself with, it seems reasonable that his minions could want to frighten off interlopers, but to attempt it so brazenly without any real force to back up the threat is baffling. I just hope that this debacle has not ruined any chance we may have at a peaceful resolution to this crisis.

— Travel Journal Day 13 —

We reached the oasis where the Abbey of the Lambent Brazier was supposed to sit not long after the faux-ambush at the sandbar. The estuary ended in a wide but shallow pool, more than big enough to accommodate our water craft. Around the pool were thick stands of trees, and amongst the tree were dozens of people, all standing and staring at us silently. More than a little creepy, to be sure. We cautiously made our way ashore (Azralon, the captain, and the soldiers remaining aboard), but none of the silent watchers made any threatening moves towards us. We pushed further into the forest, following the stream that was feeding the pool, and then entered a large clearing similar to a shallow crater, to behold an impressive sight. At the center was a large square structure, as tall as a tower, seeming to be made of brass. Along one side a waterfall cascaded down and, from our vantage point, we could see that the structure was simply four thick walls around a hollow space filled to the brim with water. On top of the wall opposite us, there appeared to be a small building, little more than a brass shed, inset with a door and with a large altar before it.

Around this monolith were hundreds, perhaps thousands more people; men, women, and children, all staring quietly at us. Evening was approaching, and there were many fires going. One odd thing about the fires: the flames seemed to have a very faint greenish hue, as though something besides timber was in the fuel. A trace of copper maybe? Though timber was clearly plentiful in the area, we had seen no signs of cutting. Isha approached a small family and attempted to engage them in conversation, and the patriarch eventually became willing to talk. He said he and his family were from a small village south of Galba, likely one of the abandoned villages we passed. Several days ago, a rather charismatic individual calling himself Walks In Sunlight, accompanied by a young woman, passed through spreading tales of woe about the plague, and how salvation could be found at the Abbey of the Lambent Brazier. The patriarch decided to gather his family and head south along the river, perhaps half a day behind Walks In Sunlight and the unnamed young woman. He said that, since they arrived, priests from inside the “Abbey” have provided them with food, wood for their fires, and a daily sermon each morning extolling the virtues of Adorned in Brass. We decided to wait through the night and see for ourselves.

While Isha chatted up the converts, I noticed a couple of things of interest about the area. First, there was little sign of the plague amongst the people gathered there that we could see. Second, I was sure this place was a Manse, but there was something… off about it that I couldn't put my finger on. And one other thing of note happened that evening: as the night wore on, there was suddenly a bright flash on the distant horizon, like a lightning strike of unimaginable power. A few hours later, a rumble like a great peal of thunder and a high wind passed over us. The shockwave from the event. According to Grantaire, the corrupted city of Thorns rests in that direction. The only thing I can conceive of that could put out that much power is the Realm Defense Grid! But whatever it was, it was a distant problem and we had more immediate concerns.

Come morning, the Abbey priests came forth and began sermonizing the masses. Their dogma seemed very pro-technology and, oddly but understandably, focused heavily on the use of brass. There were also undertones suggesting a rejection of Dragon-Blooded rule. After the sermon was concluded and the priests retreated back inside, we decided to follow them in. We forced our way through the exterior door and proceeded down a long, winding staircase into the bowels of the earth. Eventually, we arrived before a large set of double doors (brass, of course), guarded by a pair of armed men. They explained that our kind were not welcome there and, before any real attempt at negotiation could begin, one moved to attack while the other pounded out a warning on the door. The pair were dispatched with little difficulty, and we set about battering down the doors, a sight more difficult than the entrance upstairs had been. Beyond was a room dominated by a huge statue of a brass-armored figure, and occupied by a priest and his acolytes. These we defeated fairly easily, but not before the priest somehow brought the brass statue to life. Adorned In Brass himself, or merely a sham construct, or perhaps even both? Regardless, it clearly meant to do us harm and so, with a fair effort, the statue was defeated. I may have imagined it, but as it fell I thought I heard a low groan, like a death cry, escape the construct. On the body of the lead priest, we found a key that opened a door to the next room.

This next chamber was much more exotic. In the center of the room, flowing straight up through the ceiling, was a river of clear water. Arrayed around this marvel were four stout pillars arranged in a square. Clinging to each one was a creature resembling a large, monstrous ape with long, filthy claws. Behind the backwards waterfall was what appeared to be a man-sized egg fashioned of smooth stone. And before the egg, was who could only be Walks In Sunlight. No sign of Song. After a brief rant about how we knew nothing of what was going on here, he sicced his demon monkeys on us. We, however, were faster. Isha moved towards Walks In Sunlight while Grantaire and I engaged one of the ape creatures. After a few hits, it was clear that even my Spirit Sword had a difficult time wounding the damn things, so we shifted our focus to Walks In Sunlight as well. But then, the bastard played his wildcard. Slamming his staff at the ground, he caused the floor to dissolve into fine, shifting sands that slowly and inexorably began pulling us down. We figured our best chance lay in defeating the mastermind before he could conjure any more tricks. And so, even as we fended off monster monkey attacks, Walks In Sunlight finally fell. And with his death, the chamber began to collapse.

As he dropped, the giant egg began to glow ominously from within, brighter and brighter. After a few seconds, it exploded in a burst of sickly light. I barely managed to take cover behind a pillar, but my companions were thrown through the air by the blast. The monkey beasts were vaporized. And there, standing where the egg had been, was Song. Except I don't think she was really Song anymore. She was unnaturally pale and glowing with a faint greenish light, and she had a disquieting mark upon her forehead that seemed to be leaking blood. She took one glance around the room and dove into the torrent of water, disappearing from sight through the ceiling. Since the rest of us were about to be crushed in a collapsing Manse, we followed suit.

Reaching the surface, there was no sign of Song. However, another woman, who introduced herself as Marianne Rain, helped us to get clear of the sucking pit that the Abbey was turning into. She thanked us for resolving this problem and enigmatically promised that more information would be revealed if we met a friend of hers named Mnemon Opheria at a place called the Dancing Sirocco in Achmenia. In the meantime, she would tie up any loose ends here. I suppose only time will tell if we have truly reached any sort of resolution with the plague, but for now we continue on course upriver.

— Travel Journal Day 15 —

We arrived at Achmenia around midday, without any further complications, having made one stopover at a moderate-sized town along the way as a guest of the local baron (we managed to do a little shopping and freshen up, as well. And none too soon.). No sooner had we secured the moorings and disembarked than we were met by a group of soldiers wearing the king's livery and claiming they had been sent to escort us to the palace immediately. But as we followed them through the city, it became apparent that we were not heading towards the palace by any sensibly direct route. In fact, as they began to lead us through an open courtyard, we spotted a dozen or so bowmen concealed on the rooftops around us. Instead of walking brazenly into the ambush, we somewhat-tactfully excused ourselves from our escorts and went our own way, intending to find the Dancing Sirocco and our mysterious contact. However, it wasn't long before we noticed we were being followed by someone creeping along the rooftops. We decided to try and capture the person, and perhaps get some answers as to what the hells was going on. Azralon broke off from the group and made his way onto the roof while the rest of us led our tail into a suitable ambush point, and captured the man with little difficulty. Under questioning, he claimed to be an agent of the king tasked with keeping an eye on us, for our own safety of course. With no way to confirm or deny his claims, we sent him on his way and continued on to the inn. At the Dancing Sirocco, we were able to confirm that the woman we were supposed to meet had indeed rented each of us a room, but that she was off somewhere else on business and was expected to return at noon the following day. With little else to do, we decided to head to the palace and meet with King Sokar.

At the palace we were greeted with all the pomp and ceremony befitting our position (which I find rather tiresome, honestly). The king invited us to dine with him that evening and offered us each rooms in the palace, which out of politeness we accepted. The dinner was delicious and ran late into the evening, after which Azralon slipped away to converse in noblespeak with the king. By the end of the evening, some interesting new facts were brought to light. Firstly, the king's daughter, the heir apparent and Song's friend, was missing. He had searched for her with every means at his disposal, but was without leads. He was in a political bind as a result, because the lack of a legitimate heir would trigger some sort of succession crisis with his rivals amongst the barons. Second, the king was familiar with Adorned in Brass, and his descriptions of the god and his cult did not match up with what we had encountered at the oasis. I had suspected that the cult, and possibly the god himself, had been subverted in some way, and this seemed to confirm it. With new questions to mull over, we retired to our rooms for the night.

Hours later, I was awakened by very painful stomach cramping and… other digestive discomfort. After it subsided, it was clear that I, and likely the rest of my group, had been poisoned at dinner. I was becoming very weary of these not-so-subtle attempts at murder. Which, of course, was the cue for a group of four men armed with swords to try and slip into my room. If my stomach pain hadn't woken me up, they might have caught me unawares. As it was, within about a minute they were all dead and my room was a flaming ruin. Venturing into the hallway, it was clear my three companions each had a similar encounter. We ended up with two survivors out of the sixteen (one missing most of a leg). Maybe we can get some answers out of them. The next step is to talk with Sokar and see if he can shed any light on to why so many people in his city seem to be trying to kill us.

— Travel Journal Day 15 Cont. —

While Azralon went off to do some investigating of his own, we tried interrogating the two remaining assassins. All we could get from them was that Chamberlain Rathric was the one that hired them; no information as to why, though. We then went to report the night's happenings to the king in his chambers. He professed dismay at such dark deeds transpiring under his roof and offered us apologies on behalf of the realm, etc, etc. He didn't press us too hard for details on the events, which struck me as a bit odd. I didn't have much time to ponder it, for there was a knocking at the balcony door (we were in the tallest tower of the palace) and Azralon made his entrance, to the tense disapproval of Sokar's creepy snakemen bodyguards. Azralon had apparently been listening outside the tower for some time (he's an Air aspect, they do that) and accused the king of being complicit in the attempt on our lives. Sokar denied these claims, of course, and no real evidence was presented against him. Rathric was mentioned, and the king explained that he was appointed chamberlain largely as a show of good faith to Rathric's house, who were in direct competition for the throne (which provides them with a motive for eliminating the king's heir). Rathric himself had apparently fled the palace sometime in the night, stripping his quarters nearly bare. Sokar said he would order the city sealed and a reward placed on Rathric's head. Satisfied for the moment, we left to begin looking for clues to the whereabouts of the missing heir, and to keep our appointment at the Dancing Sirocco.

When we arrived at the inn, the innkeeper told us that we were expected and showed us to a room in the back. Waiting for us were Opheria and Maryann. Opheria, it seems, is a member of an organization called the Righteous Orphan Rebellion, and between her and Maryann, spun the tale of an enormous conspiracy. After her return, the Empress had been systematically stripping the noble Houses of their power, first by disbanding all of the House legions, then by confiscating all of their First Age artifacts. Then, she dispatched human emissaries to the rulers of all the satraps to deliver an important message. Once the message was delivered, the noble house ambassadors for each satrap died in mysterious circumstances, the satrap severed communications with it's ruling House, and then began building up military forces of its own. The only one that has not followed this pattern was the one we're in now. Here, the ambassador was not present, as he had left for the celebration of his daughter's (Song's) Exhaltation. Instead of meeting a suspicious fate in the capital, the city he was in at the time was hit by a plague of magical origin. Also, the king himself was absent when the mysterious message arrived and his daughter, Tria, received it instead. The question of Song came up, and Maryann confirmed that she was now Anathema (I have my suspicions Maryann may be one herself, after some of the odd terms and phrasing she used). Maryann tasked us with finding Tria, as she is the only soul in the region that knows what was in the message the Empress's emissary sent. She said that Tria's “thread” in the “great weave” (again with the odd phrasing) disappeared the day the message arrived. She was certain Tria was not dead, but otherwise was uncertain as to the reason for the disappearance; she could be obfuscated by magic, or no longer in Creation at all.

As we returned to the palace, I was beginning to think we were in way over our heads. Though the hour was getting late, we decided to search for clues, beginning with Tria's and Rathric's quarters. Rathric's turned up nothing of note, but in Tria's I discovered a diary. The final entry, the day of her disappearance, told of her receiving the message and that she felt she must not let her father see its contents, but no information on what her plans were. It was clear she took little from her chambers when she left. We then returned to speak with the king, and learned the identity of the last man reported to have seen her, a guardsman at the southern city gates. This guardsman, barely more than a boy, repeated the same story we had already heard; that a woman matching Tria's description was seen leaving the city at about 2AM on horseback, but through his story we began to sense he was holding something back. Isha pressed him a bit harder, and eventually the truth came out that his whole story was a lie. The king himself had come to him and paid him to tell this story to anyone who asked.

Clearly, it was time to stop walking on eggshells and give the classic Exhalted “kick in the door” approach a try. It was the middle of the night, but we went back the palace, resolved to turn the place upside down searching for clues. This time, we began by tracking down that had become of the two surviving assassins. The jailer told us that they had been taken to an “interrogation room” (really just a storeroom with some manacles on the wall), but had conveniently died during questioning. Azralon's keen eye spotted a secret door in this room, and we ventured into the dark passage beyond. We bypassed a locked iron gate and eventually ended in a damp stone chamber with a ladder leading up to a wooden ceiling. Above the ladder was an unlocked trapdoor, and above the trapdoor was something heavy, because we could not push our way through. Isha circumvented it by destroying the trapdoor, causing the heavy crate of broken pottery fragments to fall through and shatter upon the floor. Above we found a shipping warehouse, outside the city walls and right on the river. We located the manager's office and found in the shipping records a mention of a “package collected by merchant from (representing) Opal Pavilion via horse cart” on the day of Tria's disappearance. Asking around at some of the other shipping company offices turned up no information on what or where the Opal Pavilion is. Still with more questions than answers, we retired to our rooms at the Dancing Sirocco. Maybe a night's sleep free of poisonings or assassination attempts will help shed some light on what to do next.

— Travel Journal Day 21 —

It's becoming more difficult to keep regular, detailed journal entries, as we're in some pretty rough country, but I shall do my best. We were contacted surreptitiously by a warehouse laborer with information about the Opal Pavillion. According to him, it is a place where unusual and/or bizarre goods are exchanged; an example given was a boatload of rose petals. Supposedly, anything can be obtained there. The place is located in the mountains to the south, near the edge of the Wyld, and very few souls know of the route to get there. To me, this all smelled suspiciously of Fey. We were directed to another man to serve as a guide and, with the aid of Azralon's deep pockets and a bit of shopping, arranged an expedition to the Opal Pavillion; horses, carts, provisions, and an anvil for Isha to attempt a forging during the trip of a cold-iron weapon for use against Fey.

The climate became, of course, progressively hotter the farther south we traveled, and the going became increasingly difficult. On a couple occasions, we had to literally hoist our horses and equipment up the side of a cliff. Without Grantaire's henchmen, I don't know how we'd have managed that. One afternoon, we were passing through a valley and found our way barred by a large hobgoblin camp. Azralon and I took a bit of a tumble while attempting a flanking maneuver, but despite that setback we had no trouble clearing the camp. Of all the nasty things we could've run into out here, a horde of hobgoblins is likely the better choice.

Finally, we came within sight of the Opal Pavillion. It is as advertised; a vast tent fashioned of some opalescent material that gleams in the sun. It's surrounded by a stockade wall, which is further surrounded by a sort of shanty town. As we moved through the town towards the gate to the compound, we spotted several men and women sitting listlessly and staring into space as though they were in a drug-induced haze. At the gate we were confronted by a very tall, otherworldly Fey of indeterminate gender, who wanted to know our business. We learned that the princess was indeed inside. However, in order to speak to her we would have to pay an admission of sorts. Like all Fey I had ever heard of, this creature was interested most in strong, passionate emotions. It seemed to find Isha and Grantaire the most interesting, presumably for some memory of strong emotions the two had each experienced in their pasts. The slack-faced locals out in the town made sense to me then; they had bartered away their memories until little remained. Isha surrendered one of her memories, something that she now won't even remember missing, and she, Grantaire, and I were allowed inside to see the princess with Azralon remaining outside the gate.

It was clear to me that the interior of the compound is a Wyld pocket. Perhaps as many as fifty hobgoblins dwelled within. Upon reaching the princess, it was obvious that she was under some kind of compulsion; she liked it there very, very much and couldn't even think of leaving her nice friends. Her memories of the past few weeks were hazy, and she could remember very little about the day the Empress's mysterious message arrived, but slowly some facts were pieced together: the message promised independence to the satrap if all the House Nellens personnel were removed, and the imperial emissary was not pleased that Princess Tria had read it. Her father had commissioned these Fey to hold her captive for a year and a day, and likely to remove any memory of the message (though not all of it was yet lost). The creepy Fey thing didn't want to anger it's benefactor, the king, and wasn't going to release the princess without one of us to replace her. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. So Isha got the ball in motion by literally flipping the table and drawing her weapon…

— Travel Journal Day 21, Cont. —

Let me just say that fighting the Fey is extremely disconcerting, particularly inside of a Wyld pocket. The individual holding Tria captive immediately complicated the issue by casting a spell that made five illusory duplicates of her appear, all moving and shifting about so that we couldn't pin down which was the real article. To make matters worse, Tria's enchantment compelled her to try and stop us from rescuing her. Also, the alarm had been sounded and hobgoblin reinforcements were doubtlessly on the way. With each of us alternately dueling with the Fey and trying to grapple with Tria, we eventually pinpointed the real one, and I knocked her out cold with a blow to the face (an act for which I hoped she would not recall too clearly afterwards). We destroyed the Fey creature, but not before it could perform one last act of trickery by transforming the entire pavillion into a swirling maelstrom of dust and sand.

We had the unconscious Tria in hand, but now the hobgoblin guards were upon us and the Fey overseer, Venomous Conflagration, was moving to stop us. Azralon had entered the compound, presumably after hearing the commotion we were causing, and was moving to us as well. We felled hobgoblins fairly easily, but it was clear that the overseer was in a different league entirely. It wielded a glass sword of incredible sharpness, able even to pierce Isha's armored defenses, and was very difficult to injure in it's own right. She held the thing off long enough for the rest of us to clear the way of hobgoblins and make a run for the exit.

Fortunately, pursuit was slow, and we loaded Tria into our cart and fled for the hills. Tria eventually came to and, while much more lucid, was hazy and confused about the details of her abduction and imprisonment. Isha spoke with her, calming her down somewhat, and we were then able to coax some details from her about the Empress's message to the king. The missive held three commandments: remove all ambassadors and representatives of the great Houses, raise military forces, and “consider the Empress a friend”. In exchange, the ruler would receive: the secret of the Empress's longevity, personal power on par with an Anathema, autonomy, and the friendship of the Empress herself. Quite a tempting prize, even I have to admit. We explained to Tria, as gently as we could, that her father had betrayed her and betrayed his liege lords, even as the Empress had betrayed all of us, and he would have to be removed from power. She eventually, reluctantly saw the necessity of this. Now we begin the long trek back to Achmenia to dethrone King Sokar; peacefully if possible, forcefully if necessary.

During the trip, I thought about the Empress's proposition. Could she really deliver all that she had promised? Even if possible, it didn't seem likely. We just don't know enough about her motivations behind this conspiracy.

— Travel Journal Day 25 —

We halted a few miles outside the city and Grantaire sneaked his way in, to secure our ship and possibly make contact with Maryann or Orpheria. He returned shortly, sailing up the river with the crew and his retainers. He reported that he'd left a message for Maryann, but that our ship had been under watch when he'd left. Maryann joined us the next day, and we related all that we'd learned from Tria and the Opal Pavillion, as well as our speculations as to what was going on. She seemed troubled by the news, but not especially surprised, and explained that she would be departing the area shortly, and that we would likely not see her again for awhile. Before she left, she gave me a scroll with a messenger spell that would allow us to contact her or Orpheria (once, naturally), and offered to tutor me in some new spells over the next few days (to which I eagerly accepted).

Thus prepared, we assembled a suitably impressive entourage, including Grantaire's soldiers, an earth elemental, and the princess herself, and approached the city gates to find them shut against us. The guards were stalling and wanted us to wait until they received orders from the king, a reasonable request under normal circumstances, but this time we were having none of it. The elemental battered the gate open and we engaged the guards formed up on the other side, downing several and scattering the survivors. I did not want to inflict any more damage on the city, or on the men defending it, than we had to. After all, they were just doing their jobs, and the princess would need her city reasonably intact. We encountered light resistance as we moved through the city, but the palace walls were defended by ballista emplacements and a large number of troops, as well as a very sturdy gate. Here, we decided on a diversion; we left Azralon and the princess to preside over our small force to hold the palace defenders' attention, while Isha, Grantaire, and I made our way back through the hidden passage that the princess was abducted through in the first place. Seemed only fitting.

We encountered the king and his bodyguards in the great hall, and he was not pleased to see us. Our offer for his surrender was refused, and he sent his snakemen against us. They were a fair sight tougher than the typical palace soldier, but ultimately no problem for us. Then a man dressed in red that I assumed to be the Imperial emissary rushed into the room and handed the king some kind of amulet. Grantaire shot the emissary dead, but not before the king could invoke some kind of incantation to the Empress. Grantaire then shot the amulet from the king's hand, prompting a mad scramble to recover it, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Turning around, I saw a huge pair of disembodied eyes, projecting a scrutiny and will powerful enough to feel, hovering midair in the room behind us. But there was little time to freak out about it (and I shut the doors to that room in the thing's “face” anyways), because about then the king recovered his amulet, and we bore witness to the “personal power on par with an Anathema” that the Empress promised. The king transformed into a twisted, disgusting creature, all flayed skin and oozing green ichor. He came at us with a burst of supernatural speed and a flurry of sword blows, finally hurling his sword as if it were a mere throwing knife and manifesting another out of his own body. It was only by the grace of my enchanted bronze skin that I escaped unscathed. And, after falling to our attacks, he just got back up again! However, despite his unnatural durability, the king eventually succumbed to our combined power.

After the monstrous king was put down for good, another image manifested in the room, this one of a woman bearing a striking resemblance to Isha. The woman pointed ominously at each of us for a moment, proclaimed us Anathema, then vanished. The message here, or course, is that the Empress knows that we've been interfering with her scheme, and is not pleased.

— Travel Journal Day 41(?) —

After the region was stabilized, Belak installed as the Nellens ambassador pro-tem, and everything started getting back to the “new normal”, we finally contacted Marianne via the magical scroll she'd given us. She arrived swiftly (magically aided, I'm sure), and we discussed, with all appropriate drama, the fate of Creation. She informed us that the Empress was declaring all groups and persons that were resisting her new order to be Anathema, as she did us (though it would seem that none had been as successful as we). It was also interesting to note that, despite our brazen insolence, she had not annihilated us with the Realm defense grid (Marianne confirmed that is was, indeed, the city of Thorns that we had seen destroyed such). She also shared with us a vision she had experienced, that ran like this:

“A dead campfire, doused with urine and salt gives birth to a small ember. On a southerly wind the ember blew. By chance, it landed in a moldy grainstore, whose spores were sickening the land. In the moldy grain, the ember caught fire, causing a great plume of smoke to rise, darkening the red morning sky. This greatly pleased the dragons who watched. A gentle breeze fanned the flames, devouring the grain. Though the people panicked at the flames, the sickness they were under passed. The fire continued to devour, until the very earth cracked open, revealing a verdigris rot in the bones of the dragons. Though the people were frightened, their champion emerged from her imprisonment to unite them. The champion assured the people that the fire wasn't to harm them as the tongues of flame left the earth to scorch the air itself. The dragons knew sorrow, and wept. Their children were frightened. The flames in the sky burned so intensely that the morning sky cracked, and a rain of mirror shards fell. The champion put out her arms and gathered the people to her so they were safe. As the shards fell, an inky darkness began to spread, dousing all the light, eventually swallowing all its shadow touched.”

Sinister omens, if they are to be believed. But, she hasn't steered us wrong yet. We decided that we needed to contact Opheria's rebel organization, and Marianne directed us to her cousin Berrel Mnemon in the city of Nexus, at a meeting of said organization that would be occurring in just a few days. We would not be able to make that deadline through any means of travel at our disposal, so Marianne did… something. She had us drink some sort of elixir, and the last thing I remember was a glimpse of something resembling enormous winged lions descending before waking up in Nexus. I'm likewise unsure how much actual time had passed, but initial investigation indicated we were on time for the meeting. As per usual, Isha led the discussion and, after the usual verbal dodging and feinting, we got down to business.

As a show of faith, we updated him on everything (or nearly everything) that we experienced in Achmenis, as well as our observations and theories regarding the Empress, and the key assistance of Marianne (whom he identified as a Sidereal). Mnemon told us that word of our exploits had spread, and was encouraging others to resist the Empress' machinations. He mentioned a rare and forbidden tome called the Broken-Winged Crane, reportedly able to instill Exalted-like abilities in those that have none. He also spelled out the goals of the Righteous Orphan Rebellion, which was simply a return to the old status quo. To move on, however, two things needed to be done. First, we needed to sever our links through bloodline to the Empress, lest she use sorcery to reach out at us that way; this was accomplished through a brief ritual and, I must admit, somewhat disquieting in a way I can't quite articulate. Second, we needed to redistribute our geomantic links to our manses, as all known family holdings would likely be confiscated. This was to be done through a more complex ritual, and required us to each travel to a suitable replacement to perform it. Mnemon provided us with a list of possible candidates, all scattered to the four corners of Creation. The location earmarked for me appeared to be closest, upriver far to the east and about three days travel by spell, and so it was agreed that that would be our first stop.

— Travel Journal Day 46 —

Before we departed, we discovered that Marianne had left us parting gifts: amulets of a strange, crystalline material containing what appeared to be a small but intensely bright spark of light. According to the accompanying note, we were to use them to light the way in times of darkness. The items were improbably heavy for their size, and wearing them created a feeling of warmth and empowerment. We set off, traveling via my Stormwind Rider spell, and the journey itself was mostly uneventful. The land became less and less populated the farther east we traveled, though most of the towns we stopped in had bounty posters bearing our likenesses and declaring us traitors of the Realm. Word travels fast, it seems.

According to our information, the site of the manse was supposed to be a temple-like construction of columns on the shore of a river, but upon reaching the location it was immediately clear there was a problem; the river had flooded its banks, forming a wide lake, and the manse was mostly submerged. A brief investigation revealed the cause to be a dam constructed near a moderate-sized town farther downriver. Further investigation revealed the town to be populated by around 300 people with a propensity for fish-like physical traits; gills, webbed feet, etc. They claimed to have dammed up the river to create a lake to fish in, their main industry and food source.

Now, I'm all for “live and let live”, but let's be clear: this manse was getting claimed, and to do that, we needed to move the lake. If at all possible, with minimal disruption to the livelihoods of the townsfolk. So, we approached their mayor to try and work out a compromise, and he told us he would discuss it with the townspeople and get back to us in the morning. Then, in the middle of the night, they tried to kill us.

First there was an amphibious assault of spear-throwing townsfolk, that was quickly and handedly repulsed. Then there was an assault of actual amphibians, frogs the size of large hounds with poisonous skin. These, too, we dispatched. We then returned to the town looking for answers, only to find the place deserted. All three hundred-odd (and I do mean odd) inhabitants had vanished. Shortly, one of them revealed himself out at the end of the town pier, in an obvious attempt to lure us into some sort of ambush. When we didn't fall for it, an enormous frog the size of a house leapt out of the river onto the shore. The true master of the town has arrived. The frog god proved to be a challenging opponent, but nothing we couldn't handle. Afterwards, fully fed up with the whole affair, I summoned an elemental to tear down the dam and drain the lake, to hell with the town or it's backstabbing people (which we never saw again). When the lake finally drained, it was clear that the god had been using the manse as an underwater lair, most likely why it had tasked it's followers with damming the river in the first place. After searing all of the disgusting eggs and other frog filth from the structure, I enacted the ritual as planned. The next destination, we decided, would be a mountain far to the north that was intended to be Isha's new manse.

— Travel Journal Day (?) —

I'm not sure how much time has passed since my last journal entry. A great deal has happened, and my memory of some events may be a bit muddled, but I shall try to keep the facts as straight as I can.

We made good time to the location of the mountain where Isha's would-be manse was located, and as we got nearer one factor clearly stood out: the mountain was flying. Floating hundreds of feet above the ground. And the ground around it didn't look so good either, all the vegetation stunted and wilted for what appeared to be miles around. We didn't have much time for inspection, however, for we quickly came under attack by three lance-wielding men riding enormous birds. A quick strafing run and a barrage of Grantaire's arrows discouraged them, however. We found a spot to land near a town at the base of the mountain, and went into an inn called The Storm Tossed Nest to scope the place out. Apparently, visitors arriving from the sky were not uncommon. The folk living up at the peak's summit didn't take kindly to others invading their airspace, but otherwise were not overly hostile.

We noticed a bar patron, seemingly being avoided by the other customers, giving us the eye until Azralon confronted him. His name was Pendar, and he claimed to be an investigator from Lookshy here to discover the secret behind the mountain's levitation trick. He was pretty sure the source had to be inside the mountain, and suspected the access to it to be somewhere at the top. He spoke of two groups of people dwelling up there, the dominant humans led by a man (or near-man) called Redfeather, and a breed of birdlike people that were subservient to them. Through the innkeeper, we arranged a meeting with this Redfeather for the following morning.

I should note here that this mountain had one other peculiar property; it seemed to be absorbing all the essence around it. Any spells or charms cast within it's range had their essence drain effectively doubled. This accounted for the wasted plant growth on and around the mountain. The village at the summit was built around some very unusual ruins, seemingly crusted over with stone and sediment as though they'd been there for many millennia. Redfeather ended up having no problems with us touring the area, as he too was curious about the mountain's secrets, though he wanted us to discover them for his own use. A birdperson named Tailwind showed us around, and once we convinced him we were not interested in promoting Redfeather's agenda, took as to speak with an elder birdfolk historian named Gale. He explained that it was his people that had first come to this place long ago, and at that time the mountain was populated with dangerous demons. Eventually these creatures were killed off and the bird people lived in relative peace until the humans arrived. He would show us to a secret entrance into the mountain if we agreed to use whatever we found there to help his people. Another bird person named Winry would serve as our chaperone.

The entrance proved to be a metal door bricked up behind a wall in Gale's basement. There was writing on the door in some First Age script, but no obvious way to open it. Eventually we worked out that it could be opened by all four of us channeling essence into the door. The “Scattered petals of the thousand-tooth blossom”. Beyond were dark metal corridors, clearly artificial, and extending deep into the mountain. The floor was thick with dust, and there were traps as well, panels that released an electrical charge into the floor when stepped on. We passed dozens and dozens of rooms filled with what appeared to be massive essence cannon emplacements, originally pointing out the side of the mountain but now covered over with rock. Eventually we came to a spiral staircase leading up, guarded be a golem of some kind. It let us four dragon-bloodeds pass, but Winry had to remain behind. At the top of the stairs was a massive control center, clearly intended to be manned by a hundred people or more. On one wall was a readout depicting the mountain, with geomantic lines leading from it to several other locations around it. I must say, I was overwhelmed with wonder. This was no manse, but a battlestation from the First Age, a part of the Defense Grid itself! The lines on the display represented the power it had been drawing from nearby manses, and with that power depleted it was sucking essence from the environment around it. If we could master it, a weapon of this magnitude would give us a fighting chance against the Empress and her lackeys.

It was at about that point when two demonic-looking individuals entered the room behind us. They thanked us for finding this place for them and mentioned that they had been looking for it for a very long time. And then the fighting started…