The party finds themselves in a vast, chasm with the Warden hefting his vicious zweihander. A tome bound in thick leather swings off the end of the hilt on a pair of chains. Moving knowingly through a scattering of portals, the Warden moves furiously toward Ionia and clashes with the group.
The Warden trades blows with the a few adventurerers for a time, then recedes a moment; beginning a metamorphosis. Seeming to bend the dimensions of space itself, he bulks up considerably and begins filling the room with a nefarious black ooze, causing the heroes stuck below to run for higher ground. Trinso sees Ionia to the safety of the platform before trudging himself through the inky blackness.
From the darkness springs a pair of ferocious displacer beasts, whipping their tendrils to and fro savagely as they grapple close to Cambraeia, who had been firing arrows into the Warden. Seeing his elf companion in a dire situation, Orbaz charges at the displacer, hacking off several of it's flaying tentacles.
A second displacer springs forward and Trinso charges. As the cleric batters at it with both his spirit weapon and his mace, a nearby Fulminus wrenches open his jaw, spewing forth a blast of acid onto a nearby displacer, leaving it a puddle of gelatinous bone and tendons.
Ionia fires witch bolts at the Warden as he moves again through the dimensional portals. Catching one of the dwarves by surprise, he cleaves through his stout neck, lobbing off his head cleanly. The dwarf's noggin falls through the portal, landing at the feet of his companion. Upon witnessing firsthand the gory death of his friend, the other dwarf drives into a bloodrage, lashing out at the Warden with brutal swings of his greataxe.
Fighting on, the group watches on in horror as the Warden transforms yet again. From his back erupts a macabre sinew which grows and grows, spilling forth and taking on much more mass than seems possible, for when it finishes it lifts the somewhat humanoid form of the Warden and hangs him gruesomely from the appendage. Whiskers springs into the maw of the huge creature and stabs wildly into the warden's dangling body before the abomination snaps it's wide jaws closed, narrowly missing the fleeing mousling.
Seeing her friend strike deeply what seems to be a weak spot, Cambreia vaults acrobatically onto it's face. The monstrocity was ready for her though; nimble as she is he was able to rake his abominable teach across her body. The young elf plunges her shortsword deep into the rapidly putrefying flesh before falling unconscious before the grotesque horror.
With an uncanny quickness, the huge girth of the warden heaves itself around his lair and catches many of the heroes in a blast of his fiery breath, withering what remains of the lone displacer beast and striking hard over Ionia and Whiskers. In the confusion, a thick cloud of is randomly expelled from the fallen sorcerer.
Recovering from the blast, Trinso signals to Orbaz, motioning toward the monstrosity towering over the mist. The paladin, in a fury for having seen many of his comrades fall, charged the brute. With a word, his greatsword emanated with a beaming energy. Leaping into the air, the tiefling cleaved with his greatsword, driving it deep. A blinding light flowed through the putrid flesh sending ripples of radiant fire in crackling waves throughout it's corpulent body.
It's death wail reverberated through the chasm, shaking the foundation of the complex itself. Bricks loosened from the ceiling, clambered down around the party; they were quick to make their escape. With a last minute thought, Orbaz solemnly wrapped his cloak around the vicious zweihander, still chained to the tome, now loosened from the Warden's dead grasp and hefted it onto his shoulder. The group rushed through a small wooden door on the opposite side of the small circular Warden's chamber.
Part II – Coming Soon
The group rush through the door, each in varying degrees of conciousness; one after another they tumble through to the other side. They find themselves on a long platform with what appear to be crates of supplies strewn about, the resounding bells of the Keep of Saint Duncan chiming surprisingly close at there backs. They appeared to be on the off-limits end of the bridge leading directly into the Mists and there didn't appear to be anybody else around. The gloom of nightfall blanketed the city; it was certainly late in the evening.
Struggling to their feet, the adventurers stumble forward warily, attempting to detect what little they can from staring into the Mist. Trinso finds what appears to be rotten fruit from the elven orchards of House Fairkin. Feeling thoroughly permeated in the fetid 'awakened' magic, Orbaz boots a stack of the crates off the side of the platform in a fit of resentment.
Whiskers meanders forward toward the solid wall of the mist in quiet contemplation. With a moment's hesitation he grasps his tail before him and lets it dip slightly in the bruming cloud wall before him. In an instant he's pulled forward and is enveloped completely.
Orbaz runs forward in a futile attempt to pull the mousling from beyond. He slumps to the ground, overcome with despair. With a furrowed brow Ionia walked up to stand at his side. Her face showing deep consternation, she steps past the paladin, also consumed by the mist.
Cambreia cocks her head to the side, hearing a faint melody. It's soothing … familiar, even? As if returning to a home half forgotten, the young elf follows her comarades.
With a heart full of doubt, Orbas grasps the chained disks given to him by Chronicler Belsavis and plunges headlong into the thick haze.
Fulminus and Trinso give one another a slight glance, then both proceed into the unknown.
Part III (Coming Soon)
The heroes are all transported to an unknown place that seems to resonate with ancient magical energy, each coming together on their own path. Converging on a central area in dense trees and foliage, they are met by a being of immense power. Branding himself as ‘Puck’, the being is seems to have a knowledge of the workings emanating in Mist Heart; and much more.
The group all seem to react in varying degrees to the one known as Puck. (Please feel free to contribute your own reactions, point of view. This seems like a fairly big moment in this story, I could use help cataloging the events accurately.)
The paladin Orbaz Felbayne kneels before the entity, trying to comprehend it’s cryptic message when suddenly a thought forms in his mind, a thought to draw forth his greatsword and cleave this creature in twain. He finds it difficult to focus. It’s as if there is something goading him to action … no, to reaction. An urge to lash out; at this enigmatic Puck … at everything around him … at his dear friends.
Orbaz is rattled to his core. Reaching out with his minds eye, he attempts to grasp at his dissolving sanity with gore-drenched hands. The tiefling can feel the ichor of slain nightmares cover his once shining breastplate, it seems to pulse with it’s own life unholy light.
At the edge of his abyss, he hears the sound of tinkling chimes. He focuses with all his strength on the canticle of belles that permeate the air; it’s sound rings through the trees. Orbaz feels a weight lifted slightly on his beleaguered soul.