The party at first watched as Ulthok's throwing star easily shattered the supposedly magical glass surrounding the gem. The debate then was if the power source was the gem, the well beneath, or both.

Rayne bending down picked up a shard of the glass finding it was ice cold, even through her gloves. Applying only a small amount of pressure Rayne found that the glass was easy to crush into dust. Clearly Ulthok's Cone of Cold having been boosted by the magic within the room had turned the glass brittle and easily breakable.

With searches for traps by magic, Janni and thief coming up clean it was time to decide what to do next. Each party member adding their own thoughts or agreeing to another's.

Lothor was the first to speak up "This is beyond me. The gem I leave to those whose skills offer some chance of success. While you work, I will watch the hall we entered from. I think a quick search for another entrance might be worth our time."

Cor: "Could we perhaps disintegrate the thing and be done with it?"

Rayne pulling out her anti-magic gem: "So, shall we finish this now?"

Cor: "Aye, the gems should do the trick." Pulling out his gem he looked at the others. "On the count of three we throw then in. One. Two. Three!"

As the word "three" hit the ears of all in the party, they threw their gems into the well or at the gem and attempted to move to cover. However in such a small room cover was no where much to be found. As the gems landed and the two forces of magic met there was a huge explosion and for the party everything went black..................

AFTERMATH
Within the castle Valene and the Dragon Queen had just reached the throne room and the scene of the party's last fight. As the two magic's met and exploded the two were at once engulfed in fire and flame. Unable to escape the huge wave of destruction by foot or wing both of them died.

As the power source keeping the Githyanki castle flying was destroyed it started to drop from its five mile perch in the sky picking up speed along the way. Its impact upon the earth just before the gates of Craggian Core tore the land and the fortress apart. Though killing many Orcs, Goblins, and other evil members of various races, it completely wiped out the defenders of Craggian Core and all the kings in residence.

With the fortress gone there was nothing left to stop the vast horde of evil from pushing forward through the lands. Led by the Shadow-Wraiths the united armies of good and their lands, without any leaders, quickly fell apart and were destroyed one after the other. For the next 10 years the Dark King's army fought non-stop winning all fights but a few meaningless ones and soon the whole of Trilogy was conquered and subverted into slavery, deprivation and horror.

In a last action of spite the Dark King took his recovered intelligent sword and cut down the daughter of Allanan, Althena Sunblayze on the steps of Celebrimbor's throne. Having through her father's long forgotten magic survived the destruction of Craggian Core, she had found herself captive for those 10 years eyewitness to the ending of Trilogy.

Stacking her head on the seat, along with the rest of her adopted royal family, on top he positioned them all facing out. The Dark King then laughed and walked away. The world of Trilogy now ruled by evil and iron fist, in Asgard Loki laughed.................

Slowly the bodies covered in debris thought dead stirred, heads both helmeted and without, rose and eyes covered in grime, dust, and blood opened. Somehow, incredibly, it seemed the party had survived. As they slowly regained their senses they found themselves in a battered barracks type building made of strange brick, the roof gone and only a few walls yet standing. Around them the heavy stink of battle was like a low hanging cloud blocking out the day time sun. The smell of it worse then disgusting to any other then those who made their living in it. As the party stood and gazed beyond the walls they could see the remains of a huge battle strewn everywhere.

Carts, broken swords, arrows embedded in dirt, standards of both good and clearly evil marking final stands. Siege engines and ballista smashed and burning, the thick smoke adding to the sun blocking cloud, And yes bodies, oh so many bloodied and dead bodies, some whole, yet others missing limbs all dead. Heads severed from necks, a human fighter, an Orc's growling face still ugly in death as it was in life. The face of an elf so childlike, the beauty of a lady paladin marred by missing half her face. Some cut down by sword, others bashed into broken bone, yet others shot to death by arrows. With guts ripped open, throats slashed, and chests pierced, many were there with wounds beyond the ability to be raised from among the dead. Nothing seemingly moving in the area close to this barren battered building in which the party now found themselves.

Even the land itself was different where there had stood a great fortress between mountains of rock, now some miles away, there was only a well battered castle standing on a this huge flat field, thousands of bodies surrounding it. Small in comparison to the fortress the party had started this mission upon it was yet of considerable size. Standing quietly it looked as did the party themselves with dents, blood and the debris of war upon its wall. On those same walls small specks of movement could be seen and in the fields around but were they castle defender or attacker it was too far to tell. Body bearers gathering the dead to be placed in preparation to be buried or burned, some maybe to be healed could also seen. As the only standing symbol of life it was clear that this would be their next destination.

Dirty, grimy, still covered in blood they were yet at full alert as they moved towards the strange fortress. They made good time at first easily covering a mile then it became as if a swamp as potholes of blood and ichors formed the ground into calf high area's of mud. For the whole of their quick first mile march no sign of life had any of the party seen then as if hearing them approach something moved within a pile of dead and an armored hand was lifted. Weak and bloody it was raised but only for a few short moments then it was gone once more. In this vast field of the dead, something yet lived........................

Cor regained consciousness if not his bearings. Looking around he realized that things had changed but he had no idea how. A building in the distance seemed to be the only place capable of holding a clue. The group began the journey towards the building, dead littered the ground and nothing lived. Then, a single hand raised weakly for a moment before returning to the ground; something lived. "There, something lives. Keep watch and I will see if it be friend or foe." Cor moved to find the hand and whatever it was attached to.

Alyia came to covered in a layer of dust an derbies. Coughing an wiping the dust from her face. the rancour stench hanging about the air she quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Alyia's other hand quickly went to her spell pouch, sighing in relief that it was still on her belt she quickly took stock to see if any of the small viles or other items had been broken. once satisfied Alyia began to Looking about at the barracks. once she felt steady enough on her feet Alyia moved to where she could see remnants of the battle littering the area. Alyia shivered as the plumes of smoke blotted the sun making the hazed sky seem even more desolate then the gore strewn field before the barracks. making the land seem foreign, then again it was radically different then it had once been. the encompassing scene make Alyia's demeanour change as if soul weary the gore an evil seemed to pull her down. had they failed?

comforted by the sight of now familiar faces, remnant of the surviving party. Alyia took up place with in the group as they travelled towards the castle an what life could been seen in the distance. the closer they go to the castle the slower as the ground gave way to the gore. shuddering Alyia moved closer to the party quietly voicing concern.

"we should be extra careful an vigilant , who knows what foul creature lurks in such vile pits of ichor."

"There, something lives. Keep watch and I will see if it be friend or foe."
Alyia's hands seemed divided as she hesitated over weather to draw her sword or delve into her spell pouch.

Clutching tightly Peri held on as Ulthok made his retreat after tossing his gems. As the gems landed and the two forces of magic met and there was a huge explosion, then everything went black..................
A wave of wonder washed over Ulthok as his head cleared and he realized he was still alive. Deep inside the mage had felt their mission was only a one way trip. The odds were just too great against them. So to still be alive was a bonus. As he pushed himself off the floor he looked for the little fay creature Peri, she lay limp in the dust next to him. Half panicked his gently scooped her up. Lifting her she coughed and started to stir,,,,,..

To Be Continued ,,,,,,..

Slowly Lothor roused himself. At first he wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. But, somehow, he didn't think "dead" would ache quite this much. Nor, perhaps, look this grim. And everyone was still with him, as far as he could tell.

So, convinced that he was probably still alive, the big warrior slowly roused himself and looked around. There wasn't a lot to like about his surroundings. "I guess that is what you get for letting magic run the show," he thought to himself.

And with that he began the long walk towards the castle in the distance with the rest of the group. He actually appreciated the walk, even when it became difficult, as it gave the warrior a chance to stretch out his muscles. Even as the others fought the muck, he became just a bit more himself with each passing step and strain. It felt good to move.

And then a hand moved amidst the death and destruction all around them. Lothor found it hard to believe that anything here still lived - it must have quite a strong will. But as Cor moved over to see what it was, Lothor moved in near him. He didn't get in his way, but wanted to be near by incase aid was needed - either from a sudden assault or to move bodies to free who or whatever was trapped.

It was time for another adventure to begin.

Peri,.


The explosion from the well had knocked them to floor,,..


Dust caught in her throat as she gasped in a breath. The fay creature felt tender hands lifting her as consciousness returned. Turning her face up she saw a child like face filled with concern that brighten as she smiled at her Ulthok. Softly he brushed the dirt away and then nuzzled her softly on the nose. Her bond to him seemed so much stronger but she felt there was something different. It wasn't that the bond was more but something else was missing. Looking into the Halfling's eyes she whispered, "Do you feel it too?"

"Do you feel it too?"
Ulthok furrowed his brow, "It's just the shock of the explosion." He raised his head to look around and for the first time. The room they were in was not the same round room that held the well. This was single room building, although mostly demolished. Somehow they escaped the castle. Perhap someone had tried a teleport spell and the concentration of magic for the explosion took over.

The sounds of battle were now hushed but the senses were still attacked by the smell. The rot of death was always the aftermath of battle. Motioning to Peri to follow he headed out.

The battle was over, but had won? Dust and smoke was the only thing cut the putrid oder. The lack to guttural howls and screams was leading Ulthok to hope that the evil had been stopped. Moving out the party saw the destruction but it was the landscape that now drew their attention. It wasn't so much the massive walls of Craggian Core could not be seen be the mountains were gone too.

Before them stretched a flatland, the field was not just strewn with bodies but the carrion coated the land. To the far side stood a small castle with movement on the walls. This was where they needed to go.

Following his leader the small mage made his way through the gore. After passing so much death piled on death the party as startled when movement came within a pile of dead and an armored hand was lifted. Weak and bloody it was raised but only for a few short moments then it was gone once more. In this vast field of the dead, something yet lived, they could not ignore this. As Cor moved to check the body Ulthok checked for a potion.

Seph's eyes opened to reveal that what was left of his order, which followed him to the fortress less than a month earlier laid strung around him. Knowing that this was to be the last stand, all of his order was there, even though many had not seen combat before this and a few had been almost to old to wield a blade anymore. In the end Seph found himself to be the last of that order yet alive.

Seph cringed when he realized that he had been ran through by a spear. He blocked out the pain as he continued to survey and move through the devastation in front of him when he witnessed a dragon, a very large dragon, slamming down into the enemy ranks. He watched as the creature attempted to take flight, just to crash down onto his allies once again. It roared in either pain or anger and let out a long jet of flame, incinerating more of its comrades. The sight in front of the wounded paladin brought with it a strange sense of satisfaction as if the gods smiled upon them this day. Then Seph was thrown back off his feet as something slammed him into the ground.

Waking to find himself pinned under many bodies Seph closed his eyes for what he thought was a second, but when he opened them a second time it was clear the battle was over. With only one hand free Seph was unable to lay hands of healing upon himself and lay waiting for death. The paladin heard a distant conversation, not knowing who it was he presumed the worst, that the enemy had won, and where busy looting the dead. Seph attempted to remove the spear that was still logged in his gut, and to move the bodies off him. Letting out a loud groan as he failed to pull it out, he realized that he was too weak to do so himself. He sighed as the voices came closer, not sounding of evil, and took a chance raising his arm to be seen as the world started to turn gray and cold around him once more.

As soon as she threw her gem into Rayne covered her face with her shield, trying to take cover the best she could. It was a futile effort; the instant the explosion occurred everything faded to black.

Rayne awoke on her back, staring up at the sky. She had an intense pounding in her head, which muddled her thoughts. They must have fallen with the castle. Somehow, she was still alive. It was the biggest fluke ever for the floating castle not to have crushed her into oblivion.

She slowly made her way to her feet, and regained her bearings as the pounding resided. She quickly noticed that the walls that were now around her were not the same as the floating castle's.

Then, the smell hit. It was almost like a invisible wall hit Rayne as she recoiled. It reeked. She had encountered the smell of decay before, but nothing like this. Looking at past the walls revealed the source: a massive battlefield, with all its dead participants still laying on the field. After a couple seconds of a feeling of nausea, Rayne was able to regain her composure. Being squeamish wouldn't help anything.

Upon further investigation, the land was different than before. This could not have been Craggian Core. There was no mountains, only a large field. The castle seemed smaller than Craggian core.

"Did we fail?" Rayne muttered to herself. This wasn't the way victory should have looked. The world should have been cleansed of evil, not overwhelmed by it. She stared out at the battle, looking for something that might help her figure out where they were.

"There, something lives. Keep watch and I will see if it be friend or foe."
Rayne instinctually reached for her bow, despite it being broken. Old habits die hard. After realizing that her bow still required a new string, she drew her longsword and buckler. As Cor advanced on the motion, she kept her eye out for anything hostile.

Silvery moonlight filtered through the ancient canopy casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor. Night was a time of magic and the veil between the worlds grew thin. Every step brought them closer to the borders of Faerie and the blood of excitement rushed through her. Long had the years been since she set foot in the mortal world. Those first steps into the realms of men had been taken as a wide eyed child curious to find a world pulsing with change. It was alive and had filled her with joyous wonder. Hidden in the mortal wood, the young Siréne had spent days wandering its many pathways. It had taken the hand of Mnemosyne herself to bring her back to Faerie. More than a century would pass before Siréne would return to the mortal world as a final trial before swearing her oaths as a priestess. She had not returned since, and yet despite having worn the mark of the Goddess for three centuries, she still held the mortal realm as beloved.

Like a raging flood, time rushed through the world of men, eroding pathways of change that were at once exciting and exhausting. Just beyond mortal touch, Faerie stood eternal and outside of time. Where a day would pass in Faerie, perhaps a year or even a century would go by among the mortals. Though they watched the passage of the years, the Faerie rarely intervened in the world of men. Today was different.

Now, in a time of great need, three generations of fey priestesses traveled skyclad to the border of Faerie and the world of men. Escorted by a circle of thirteen women, Siréne walked alongside her mother Selene and her mother's mother, the High Priestess Mnemosyne. Together they would walk beyond the borders of Faerie and, in the mortal world, draw down the moon. It was their most ancient rite, one that no priestess could perform alone and survive, not even Mnemosyne. Yet, with three generations linked as one, they could not only draw down the moon, but direct its power.

In the distance the air seemed to shimmer like a wall of light. Visible only a trained eye, this marked the edge of Faerie. Once they stepped beyond, they would stand in the world of men. Siréne breathed deeply, stilling the excitement that danced within. It was time. With hands joined, the three faeries took their first steps onto mortal soil. At once all of the passionate sensations whirled around her and into her. Their rhythms sang with joy and promise for here all was becoming and ending. There was no eternal. In that moment, Siréne swore to defend these lands even with her undying breath.
The metallic smell of blood mixed with stone dust to fill the air completely. Every breath burned. Siréne opened her eyes and coughed. Breathe meant life, but in this moment the fey women truly wondered if it would have been better to not breath at all. Her whole body ached giving her more unwelcome signs of life. There had been a time, long ago, when she had not known pain. Yet, in the near two centuries she had walked with men she had come to know pain quite well. Gritting her teeth, Siréne got to her feet and began to brush the dust away. It was futile, but it focused her away from the aches that rain through her body.

Rumbles and rustles were joined by flickers of movement that heralded there was other life around her. Narrowing her cerulean eyes, Siréne quickly scanned the scene to find her companions returning to life. By the grace of the Goddess they all yet lived. Thinking of the pain wracking her own body she smirked. Perhaps it was scorn, not grace that had spared them.

Words did not come, only a sense. A strange feeling of distance that held in it something oddly familiar. Somehow, she felt she had been here before, as if she had returned. Everything felt impossibly newer.

True to the laws of this mortal world, everything had changed. Not even the mountains remained. Once this would have shocked her, but she had grown accustomed to the rapid courses of this realm. Still, she looked about in wonder seeking some sign. Something.

As if a divine stroke, all their eyes fell upon the lone fortress in the distance. Flecks of movement along the walls and fields spoke of life, but the distance was to great for even elven eyes to discern more than that. Together they moved as one, drawn by the pull of life towards this unknown. Life called out to life.

Picking her way through the maze of broken stones and bodies, Siréne's mind began to fester with thoughts of walking blindly. It had already brought them disaster once and she would not let that happen again. As she drew breath to give this voice, a rustle of movement heralded life much closer to them. Something else had survived.

As the others moved to investigate this, Siréne let her focus return to the fortress in the distance. They were bound there and there was nought to do but continue on. Still, she would know what they faced when they arrived.

The power of Faerie that coursed through her danced to life as she spoke words of power, spinning it into seeking threads. Silvery white motes danced around her flicking fingers before disappearing as they spun out into the distance. As they flew towards the fortress things became clearer. She would know.

((OOC: Casts Wizard Eye - directing this to scout the fortress and surrounding field.))

For the party all somehow still alive, Peri, Niamedris, and Xin among them, they were yet unsure where they had ended up. For them seeing their first sign of life was hopeful in the nature of answers, but no less dangerous in the nature of the unknown.......

"We should be extra careful and vigilant, who knows what foul creature lurks in such vile pits of ichor." This word of caution from Alyia, her gaze watching for danger, yet finding for the moment only death.

"There, something lives. Keep watch and I will see if it be friend or foe." Cor spoke as he moved to find the hand and the rest. Without a word Lothor was quickly at Cor's side as both moved through the bodies before them until they found the hand beneath a pile of both human and orcish bodies.

Quickly removing the bodies what they could see was a heavily armored man, his visor open, his eyes glazed over in a daze. The symbol on his chest clearly spoke of him being a holy warrior, a Paladin. However the sigil was one unknown to the Dwarven trainer of such and a first. Cor, eyes moving quickly from the sigil, saw that he was badly wounded and on the cusp of falling asleep and into the grasp of death and healing was needed fast.

Sirene gazed over the field of death marking it in her mind so she would never forget its sights, small sounds and the smell. The metallic smell of blood mixed with stone dust seemed to fill the air as if a low laying cloud. Her throat burning with every breath. Yet breathe meant life and as she slowly followed the rest towards the castle she had a need to know more. As Cor moved off to help or kill the hand she cast Wizard Eye upon the fort.

As the eye raced across the field she could see that the number of the dead was misleading. The bodies of Orcs, Men, Dwarves, Elf, Dragon, Horse, Direwolf and some she herself did not know numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Had this many forces been outside the walls of Craggian Core, this many different races? Finally the eye reached the castle itself and Sirene could clearly see that Men walked it's walls Elves cared for the wounded and Dwarves with help from both races and others gathered the dead for barial or burning.

The castle close up was strange and clearly not built by man but still it had the look of a powerful bastion though a little worn in some places. As her eye continued to fly there came a shout from below and within seconds the eye was gone.

Within a matter of minutes, Sirene could now see a number of winged creatures, three in total, headed towards the party.

DM OOC: Ok here is tonight's post and I must say I enjoyed reading your posts. Ok Hammer is caught up in RL so for the moment I'm NPCing Roan till his return during non-combat posts. As normal in the any combat situation, one of the players will NPC him. Ok lets welcome Gerald Defay to the game and next post next Sunday the 14th. Keep those good posts coming.)

Cor shifted the rubble and found the owner of the hand barely clinging to life. His armor was that of a paladin but the emblem was one Cor had never before seen. That was very strange. There was little time to reflect on the meaning of this as the man was slipping quickly into the endless sleep. Still unsure of exactly where allegiances lay, Cor took a cautious approach and used his power of lay hands. Hopefully it would keep the man alive enough to question him but not so much as to make him a dangerous enemy if thing went that way. "Hold still lad, I'll tend your wounds quick." Cor laid hands then proceeded to call the others and help the man to a seat on a nearby rock. "Who are ye lad and what land be this before us?"

The Paladin still weak from his wounds, looked at the group in front of him, before bowing his head as he started to speak. "Thank you I'm grateful for the aid you provided. My name is Seph Moramee." Seph lifted his head as he continued. "This is Drimmen Dreeve, where you not part of the army fighting here?" Seph studied the carnage around him, before attempting to stand. "I guess the gods didn't smile upon all of my brothers. If I may be so bold to ask, would you allow me to join your group, as I search for more of my order?"

"Well lad, we were not among those who fought here. We were not even in these lands last we knew. Your armor says you are a paladin but your coat of arms is unknown to me. That in itself is strange as I know every paladin coat of arms in Trilogy. I am Lord Cor, knight-cleric of Odin. If ye wish ta travel with us I believe that can be arranged. We are in need of a guide in this land. Let's meet the other lads and lasses and ye can intraduce yerself." Cor guided him to the others.

Cor pondered what the man said, Drimmen Dreeve. How could that be? Such was a name of ancient times. There was no way they could be in Drimmen Dreeve; unless... Had the traveled not in location but in time when the castle fell?