Chapter 12: Shadows in the Dark

[Ken]

Belarin nods at Histra's suggestion. "The first thing you sense as you ascend from below is the smell," he says to the group wistfully. "The mixture of brine, sweat, and old wood, and then - in the morning - the luxurious scent of Garrel's eggs, with his 'special ingredient.' It's so good you've forgotten the ever-present rocking of the ship, gentle and soothing.

"And as you reach the deck, there it is: the horizon and the sky, a beautiful blue and white dome that is all encompassing yet infinite...! The clouds fly by, pushed by the crisp wind that even now chills your cheeks and dapples your face with sea spray. The crew moves across the deck, adjusting sails and cleaning the wood. Far above you, so tiny as to be a gnat, is the Crow's Nest, and you're still mystified at how that man doesn't fall out of his precarious perch.

"Captain Morsha steps forward, a teasing smile on her face. She points ahead to our destination, its rocks and buildings shining golden in the dawn light. 'We're finally here,' she says, 'Stormreach.'"

Belarin holds Histra's hand. "Let's go there, everyone," he says with a smile. "Join hands and hold tight." He steps toward the fissure.

[Dave B.]

Shorak holds out his hands to whoever is closest. "It is definitely prudent for us all to hold hands." He says. Listening to Belarin, he closes his eyes and remembers the many mornings he worked out on the deck of the Merrow Down. The sweat on his skin mixing with the sea mist. He smiles slightly as he pictures Captain Morsha standing proud on the deck, confident in her managing of her crew. "Let's go."

[Brian]

Condign grips Streko's and Shorak's hands and steps forward.

[Jeff]

Kal is correct. Tangat's own mind conveys some of his memories into his master's mind and the smells of the sea, and the galley, come flooding in. When Adamant asks Tangat if he would mind being carried, Kal doesn't think it's strictly necessary, but the wolfhound's tail thumps on the ground. It seems he would like that. Tangat pants happily, looking up at the warforged, and allows himself to be lifted.

Behind you, the seneschal looks on in silent judgement as the group holds hands. Histra consents only to Belarin's hand, so it is not a proper circle of hands, just a chain.

When Belarin steps towards the shadowy disk hovering in the air, it descends to the ground and widens, looking very much like a round pit. It expands when his boot steps into its center, though it envelopes Histra first. She vanishes, then Belarin does, and on down the line. Condign, as he concentrates to maintain his vision of the Merrow Down, is the last to go—and the only one to hear the deep rumble of the yugoloth's voice speaking outside the room, perhaps near the bottom of the stairs.

Then the house of Rashade and all of the Shadowfell beyond it turns into utter darkness.

Each of you feels a dizzying sensation which becomes a falling sensation, but though your senses are blinded, you do feel the grasped hand of one of your companions. Kal, passing through the planar barrier alongside his familiar, can still feel if not hear Tangat's panting—it is comforting.

Your sensory vision of the Merrow Down, though enriched by Belarin's words, is suddenly shattered as new visions sweep through your minds unbidden...



A field of the fallen; dead Cyrans lying beside dead Thrane, some bearing the wounds of battle, others unmarred yet still slain. Looking on, unaffected, are a pair of unmarked warforged...

Bloody and scarred human barbarians massing on a field beneath a red sky. At the vanguard of their army, a trio of horn-crowned tieflings. Two bear swords, one bears a staff. Amidst the barbarian horde behind them and carried like a banner by a pair of ogres is the body of human in rich Aundairian garments, crucified and freshly decapitated....

Two tall, angular gnome-like creatures with wrinkled faces grinning at each other over the body of a Brelish peasant woman. One leans down to soak his hat in her freshly pooling blood....

A squadron of skeletal knights stand over the struggling body of a bound halfling plainsman. One of them approaches the anguished warrior with a glaive. Nearby, the halfling's mount, a clawfoot dinosaur, has already been flayed open....

A black-skinned elf wearing the scanty garb of a jungle dark elf drops a clear potion vial. As she gasps and chokes, her skin whitens swiftly, her pointed ears soften, and she drops to the earth as the changeling she is....

A contingent of Deneith mercenaries stand in a circle with their swords up almost in a ritual fashion. What they surround cannot be seen, but every sword is dripping with fresh blood....

The visions are visceral but quick. Still you feel the hand of your companion. Unlike your journey through the Threncia tree in the ir'Serells' lair, you know you are not alone in this....




Then as quickly as it started, the darkness falls away.

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End of chapter! Stay tuned.