Fear the Skies

DM

* DM Blu

Players

* Faerl'colbauth, Drow Cataclysm Sorcerer Who Sells Other Peoples Souls
* Kerrigan Droranath, Dwarven Rage Mage/Bard and the Punchiest Life Support System
* Fluke, Warforged Divine Soul Sorcerer With the Soul of a Literal Angel
* Salt, Changeling Vengeance Paladin With the Worlds Strongest Imaginary Friend

NPCs

* Cardinal Alyssa of the Silver Flame
* Sir Wranry of Rellekor, Fernia Touched Tiefling Templar and Cardinal Alyssa's Primary Helper
* Raz-akghorl, Elder Wyvern and Guardian of Flamekeep
* Sora Zharava, the Immortal Night Hag Mistress of the Burnt Woods
* Sarmondelon, the Young Gold Dragon Troublemaker

## Introduction

You all receive a letter by courier in the early morning, issued by Wencove.

’You have been hired by Cardinal Alyssa of Thrane for a most dire task. Make any last minute preparations you can and head for the Lightning Rail station post haste- a dragon has been sighted causing havoc in Southeast Thrane and the Council of Cardinals has hired the Foundation to slay the beast. Your rail tickets are included in the letter, and the train leaves by noon. Host be with you, Wayfinders.’

The station is bustling with activity this time of day; travelers from all over coming and going on important business or simple tourism. By the door to the first class cabin a Half-Orc in a fine suit and cap holds a sign bearing the word ‘Wayfinders’ in bold print.

## Summary

Faerl, Kerrigan, Fluke and Salt were called to Flamekeep by Cardinal Alyssa to deal with a dragon that was wreaking havoc in South East Thrane, in the region surrounding the Burnt Wood. They talked with refugees of the Dragons attacks, and Salt even saved one victim (a liquor maker by the name of Richard) from certain death. The party learned the Dragon was Gold in hue, and most likely juvenile. They rode hard and fast on steeds leant by the Church (two Warhorses named Gertrude and Charger, along with a Magebred one named Happy for Kerrigan) to the region containing the Burnt Wood and headed straight for the forest.

Outside the woods they were attacked by Charred Men, a type of Undead born from those who died a slow and agonizing death to flame, where the party as a whole saw Kerrigan's odd magic and Symbiont Axe for the first time, causing some tension amongst the party. Nevertheless they push on into the Burnt Wood; a woodlands within a Fernia Manifest Zone that was home to a great deal of magical and exotic plant and animal life. They track down the Dragon to his lair, eat some funny berries and then battle the Dragon, Sarmondelon who claimed to be a descendant of the Legendary Sarmondelyx, using tools given by the Church to slay the beast. The Dragon is nearly slain, but retreats under a boiling pond to hide in its lair. Disheartened they leave the woods and take shelter at the nearest surviving village, where they get details on a local folk figure called the Eldest by the locals.

The following morning they return to the woods where they follow the locals advice and follow Charcoal Crows to find the Eldest's Grove, where they meet this mythical figure; who calls herself Sora Zharava. The party make various pacts with the Hag for personal answers, power and for the tools to enter Sarmondelon's Lair. They return and part the waters with a teaspoon before entering the lair proper, Kerrigan leaving her Symbiont up above. They trigger a bunch of traps, get through magically locked words with awful passwords and finally do battle with the Dragon in his Lair. The Dragon had embedded the Shard of Eldest Lore in his head and made more sacrifices for magical power, but in the end the Wayfinders felled the beast (killing blow going to Faerl's Magic Missile) and butchered him for parts and proof of his demise.

They returned to Flamekeep heroes and returned their loaned tools, before being awarded Mark's of Triumph to them for their heroic deeds and even gifted Kerrigan the Holy Weapon Krya Fotia, a magical axe possessed by the spirit of a fallen Templar martyr. The party went their separate ways and life went on as Thrane began rebuilding their scorched holdings.

## Epilogue

### Grove of Sora Zharava

Sarmondelon blinks back into awareness in a cramped, green space. The dragon finds it difficult to collect its thoughts, feeling as though it was torn away just as it was getting settled...somewhere. He stumbles to his feet and tries to walk only to bump into a wall of...glass? ”What devilry…” he rears up, brings his claws to bear and slams against the wall...only for his arms to discorperate into mist and reform when he pulls away. He looks down at his talons in shock, then looks up as a shadow passes by on the other side of the wall. He goes quiet; for once in his life he feels small and defenseless. Even against the warriors who slew him he at least (as far as he knew) managed to slay one back...but here he can do nothing as the container he’s in is lifted and carried.

He looks up as a massive cork is removed from the bottle his soul is stored in, to reveal a single Khybershard eye peering down at him. Sarmondelon snarls ”YOU!” up at the Hag.

Sora Zharava chuckles “Yes! Me! How are you enjoying your accommodations, whelp of ruin? Hmm? Cozy enough?” She cackles loudly at the captured soul “Well I’m afraid you won’t be resting for long little wyrm, Sora Zharava has work to do.”

If Sarmondelon still had a heart it would’ve dropped just then as he feels the bottle begin to tip, he scrambled for something to hold onto but could find no purchase. His soul poured out of the bottle into the boiling cauldron below…

--Later--

Sora Zharava sat at the dinner table of her little hut, basking in the warmth of the fireplace and the ever present heat of Fernia as she patted her belly. “Dragon soul soup is simply delectable, you really must try it one of these days my dearie.”

“No thank you Sora, I think I’ll get by.” The Apprentice said to the Hag as she picked up Sora Zharava’s dirty dishes for cleaning “Do you want me to fetch your tonic before your late night divinations?” [6:57 PM] The Hag nods and waves away the young Genasi, picking at her teeth with her pinkie claw like a toothpick as she looks to the fireplace. The Hearthfire roars up and begins transmitting visions of far away places; Vellark assailing Dwarves in ancient armor in a stone citadel far below the earth, accompanied by the soulless husks of his victims. A Changeling woman in armor in a heated battle with a Horned Devil as Orcish warriors charge in to support her. A Drow so familiar, yet different dwelling in a far away jungle...and empty static. She sneers as she fails to lock onto the other Vessel, but settles on looking instead to the heroic souls in Dollurh on their quest to face the Husksteel Hag. She kicks up her feet on her table and watches with amusement. These heroes always get up to the wildest things…

### The Lair of Sarmondelon

An old beggar stands at the water's edge of the boiling pond not even ten minutes after the Wayfinders had departed, carrying a gnarled staff but no longer leaning on it for support. A matter of fact he stands tall with his head held high now, eyes focused on the boiling water before him. He raises his staff over his head and stamps it into the ashy dirt and wills it to part.

Once parted he makes his way down the dirt steps, now slick and deformed, and into the complex proper. He scoffs at the shoddy and exploitable construction of it all; the whelp left himself so open he was basically asking for death. He grimaced when he found the skeletons of the seven young or wyrmling dragons. Such a savage brute; slaughtering his own clutch mates and selling their souls as he had.

He finally makes his way to the main hall where the butchered cadaver of Sarmondelon rests, body still warm thanks to his elemental nature and the manifest zone. The old man looks a mixture of sad and disgusted at the sight; the humanoids certainly weren’t much better on the savage brutality front. He kneels down and examines the spatters of blood and gore on the floor, looking for patterns...and he finds them. Prophecy Marks in the carnage. He fetches an Eberron shard from his robes and speaks into it, recording his findings.

Once collected he tosses aside the wood staff he carried, it had served its purpose, and tucks away the shard. His form shifts, unfurls and expands rapidly as he sheds his disguise; taking the form of a huge blue dragon. Agranrotar the Cerulean Watcher swipes his claw through the air and conjures a gate to his lair back on Argonessen before stepping through. He must consult with his fellows on what he found.

The gate closes behind him, leaving the lair quiet and empty once more aside from the dead.