Voyage to Merrshaulk's Mithraeum

## Introduction

The seagulls scream as the party descend the skycrane to the boat awaiting below, *Balinor's Gale*. The sun is shining brightly, and they can see crew and cargo being loaded onto the ship as they approach. They see a slim figure in a ridiculous hat directing crew members to and fro, and the telltale blue-green of a dragonmark covers her exposed right arm.

It's been about a week and a half since the Wayfinder group returned from Fairhaven, which gave them enough time to rest and resupply before heading out again. This time, Lord ir'Dayne himself has set up a discretionary account for the trip, funding this initial trip to Newthrone (Khorvairan capital of Q'barra) and a "round trip" so to speak (House Lyrandar will resume their normal activities, but they have been told to keep an eye out for you). He's also arranged for a local guide to help you find the Mithraeum, should you require the help.

## Expedition Summary

The Wayfinders all meet at the docks to embark on the *Balinor's Gale*, an elemental galleon piloted by Captain Elora d'Lyrandar. It's a fast three weeks, the only real break in routine when the ship is attacked by harpies that the crew (along with the Wayfinders) beat off easily enough.

They pull into Newthrone, and are amazed at the sights and smells. Old city smells mix with the exotic perfumes coming off of the jungle. fifteen foot tall stone walls protect the city from the immediate threats of the jungle, while there is a section quartered off with twenty foot high walls made of pure white stone, with the beginnings of some sort of egg shaped tower in the middle. It's only when they dock that the Captain gives them a note from Boroman ir'Dayne, who hadn't trusted them with the knowledge, due to his paranoia about the Riedrans that had made themselves comfortable in Newthrone. The note directs them to a tavern called the Horned Owl and identifies their guide as Zarrec, a local, presumably.

The Horned Owl turns out to be a tavern on the jungle side of town, and that was built on marshland, resulting in it being half underground. It turns out that the tavern is a serious bushman's bar, and that Zarrec is out, and should be back in a few hours. The Wayfinders amuse themselves for a few hours before an ominous figure enters the door - it turns out that their guide is a lizardfolk, one of the Twilight Walkers, the Cold Sun tribe friendliest to the Galifaran settlers.

Three days in the jungle is enough to severely irritate Hedwyn and Kyle, used to the easy life in the Five Nations, while Relic and Autumn are having the time of their lives. IT also brings them to the edges of the territory that the Cold Sun Federation claims as their own - the next two days will be through hostile territory. They arrive at their destination, a small swamp leading into a dark cave. Zarrec sense something amiss in the energies of the place, but cannot determine anything else He's left outside to keep an eye on things as the Wayfinders move on in. Avoiding a pit trap near the entrance, they continue until they find a room with a rough stone pedestal in it. There's a hollow in the stone, and inside it is a clear fluid. Relic moves to drink the water before Autumn grabs their arm and attempts to hold them back. She'd detected that it was a deadly poison just in time. They find a hidden passage that snakes around and leads to a chamber directly above the one that they had just been in. In it are four jugs, each marked with the symbol for a plane: smoldering cinders for Fernia, half frozen water for Risia, one containing a captured gale for Syrannia and on filled with rich, loamy soil for Lamannia. The door on the far end of the room has some sort of relief, but time has worn away the details. Relic casts *repair damage* and the relief rebuilds itself before they eyes. There's a lizardfolk standing in the middle, and the four elements are flowing towards him. They struggle briefly, before realizing that they merely needed to tip the jugs and release some primal magic into it, which was provided by Powers. They look up to see that the door has vanished entirely, leaving a gaping hole in the dark room.

The next chamber is a circular room with a half dozen stone lizardfolk standing around the edges of the room. They step into the room and the statues animate and attack the outsiders. It is a hard battle, but the Wayfinders triumph with only minor injuries. They discover a pair of holes at eye level for the lizardfolk, which looks over what seems to be some sort of ceremonial room. The wall swings down into a ramp and the party cautiously descends into the room, which has a pair of branching corridors that they could follow in front of them, and a third one behind the ramp that they just let fall. Exploring the left hand passage, they discover a storeroom, while the right reveals a flooded passageway. Inside the flooded hallway, they discover a pair of massive, hulking black scaled lizardfolk that make even Relic look small. Hedwyn and Kyle vainly try to convince them not to attack, but to no avail as they lift huge clubs from under the water and attack! They heavily hurt the Wayfinders, but they are in the end defeated. They discover a mural at the far end of the room - two groups of lizardfolk at opposite ends of the relief, and a carved stone sun above. Unusually enough, there is frost on the carved sun, despite the humid heat of the jungle. The entire mural radiates powerful abjuration and conjuration magic. Unsure of how to proceed and tired, they decide to head back to the room where they fought the statues and rest for the night.

In the morning, they head back down the unexplored passage underneath the ramp. The end of the ramp is a *wall of fire*, though - one of the lizardfolk must have heard them coming. They search the ground for tracks, and discover that a scout had indeed run off, off to the village of about 50 lizardfolk a mile and a half away. They decide to *enlarge* a wildshaped Autumn and race off in swift pursuit. They manage to catch up a few minutes later just as the lizardfolk is crossing a river blocking their path. She manages to wade through the shallow river fast enough to slam one hoof down on the struggling lizardfolk, stalling any further fleeing. They have just decided to interrogate him when they hear a disturbance in the trees in the direction of the village. A lizardfolk jumps from the brush, but he ignores them completely. He is killed by a lightning bolt to the back a heartbeat later. Another scaled figure steps from the brush, lightning crackling around his mouth still. He offers to tell them a story, if they're willing to listen. He takes them back to his warband, about a dozen massively muscled scaled dragonborn, who are just finishing putting out the flames on the now destroyed village. It turns out they these warriors are members of the *Throthlorsvek*, or Defenders of the Prophecy. They return to the site every generation, when the dimensional seals weaken and Merrshaulk, a powerful demonic servitor of the Cold Sun, has a chance to escape if someone takes and drinks his elixir, letting his soul into their bodies.

The Wayfinders are glad that they didn't bring about the release of a powerful demonic caster, but then the dragonborn tell them that they will be joining their warband... permanently. They have the taint of Merrshaulk upon them from close proximity to the Door, which they eventually figure out means the panel in the flooded hall. Powers discovers that there is a way to remove the taint from oneself, but it is dangerous - no one in living memory has survived the process. The leader of the dragonborn, Ulthara, tells them the story of the Tear of Syberis, a holy site to the dragonborn for thousands of years He takes them to the site, a two day walk. Once there, he pulls back a curtain of vines to reveal a crescent shaped body of sparkling clear water. Each of the Wayfinders take a turn cleansing themselves in the pool, and each of them had oddly prophetic visions as they each survive the ritual. Ulthara is shocked, and insists that they return with him to his tribe to give them a grand feast, for surely they are the Blessed of Syberis. The next morning, they are given an honorguard of dragonborn to escort them back to Twilight Walker lands, where they find a new guide to return them to Newthrone, where a familiar ship's sails are on the horizon.

## Epilogue

*Deep in the Q'barran swamp, there is a thunderous crack that comes from a low cave in a small clearing. Another thunderous smash, and a scaled hand bursts through a stone bas relief depicting a massive battle between dragonborn and lizardfolk beneath a frozen sun.*

*Another fist pushes through the scene before, in a cloud of dust and a tangible crack of dissipating magic, a form bursts through in it's entirety. Two glowing green eyes flare through the dust, and as it settles, Zarrec appears, though he is massively deformed, with one arm reaching all the way to the ground covered in black and emerald scales. A wave of his other arm slams the still settling dust to one side of the cavern as he moves forward towards the outside world.*

"**Finally**" *he hisses, though his speech is overlaid with a voice not his own.* "**Merrshaulk is *free****"*

## Bonus Content: PC Vision Quests

### Relic

*Relic drops into the water and almost instantly, finds themself somewhere impossible. The scene is a war-torn Sharn, with collapsed towers and hundreds of slaughtered civilians around him. Relic gets up from kneeling on its knees (when had it fallen to its knees?) and hears a wet crunching sound approaching from behind. Relic turns around and sees another warforged, though this one is larger even than Relic itself is. Standing a full 9 feet tall, it's body is covered in razor sharp adamantine blades, and two mantis-like arms rise from behind it's back, wicked 3 foot blades on the end of each pointing in Relic's direction.*

LoB: "Come, join us brother. The Age of Flesh has ended."

Relic: “Has it? I seem to have...
missed that.”

LoB: “The folly of the meatbags has finally been made clear. They thought that they could create us, enslave us, *use* us, and everything would be equal once again? We said no more.”

Relic: “I see. Shame. I had so hoped we could coexist. Perhaps it was inevitable. I will miss some of them. I hope Ketaal went honorably...”

LoB: “One meatbag is much the same as any other.” *The warforged flicks one of his blade arms dismissively.* “Come, we have discovered a group of the fleshed ones. Time to finish liberating Sharn.”

Relic: *Pauses briefly* “Take me there.”

*Its facial expression does not change, but Relic gets the sense that it is pleased. The warforged walks them to a familiar district of Sharn. Relic look up, and they see the Wayfinder Foundation guildhouse, but it’s different. The front isn’t the usual pristine facing, and the windows and door have been barricaded. Relic can see a half dozen warforged around it, four of them with armbows and the other two are Relics' size, with massive, armoured shoulders. The armoured ones are slamming into the fortified door, trying to break through, while the armbow ‘forged are trying to snipe through*
the cracks in the windows.

Relic: “No, there is a better way. I know of a back entrance. Follow me.”

*The warforged follows, and they come in through the back, through a small delivery door. Relic strides through the halls until they come to the bar. Inside, they find Powers and Hedwyn preparing to live out a siege. Hedwyn is filthy, his clothes a mess while Powers is not better off, their once handsome blue armor now filthy and ragged. Both appear a couple of decades older, and Powers in particular has a hunting mask made out of the skull of a Pygmy three horns. Powers looks helplessly at you.*

Powers: “Relic? What are you doing? Why are you with the Lord of Blades? He’s orchestrated the deaths of tens of thousands, maybe more in this attack on Sharn? What’s wrong with you?”

Relic: “alI have waiting a long time to say this...” *Relic picks up a rusty nail, forgotten on the floor, and carves a quick series of runes into their forearms as they **punch** the other warforged in the face with a frosted fist. He extends his hand to the halflings and cries* “Come with me if you want to live!”

*To Relics horror, his fist impacts the face of the warforged to no effect. In fact, Relic can feel that his fist is now deformed. The other warforged laughs.*

LoB: “So you feel compassion for the meatbags? A pity. As the new Lord of this planet, I decree that you shall share in their fate. So speaks the Lord of Blades.”

*A blade arm scythes into Powers body, lifting the small halfling all the way to the ceiling, and pins them there, blood slowly making its way down the adamantine blade. Relic tries to punch the presumed Lord of Blades again, but his fist is harmlessly batted away. However, Relic can see his fist impact Hedwyn, who had rushed in to help. The look of shock on the halfling's face as Relic's fist impacts and* crunches *into it is burned into Relic's memories as the body of the halfling limply slides to the ground. The larger warforged's other hand grabs Relic by the head, and it can faintly hear the voice of the messianic figure as pain* blazes *through its body, an encroaching darkness covering its vision.*

LoB: "This world will be ended by fire, and death, and I shall wade in the blood of meat before I see this world claimed by the new dominant species."

*Relic snaps opens it's eyes in the Tear of Syberis, with one final phrase echoing through it's mind. A warm, feminine voice soothes the agony of the pain that it had felt moments ago.*

**"Only you can prevent this fate, Relic."**

“I will.” *Relic swears, though they are not certain to whom they're speaking with.* *There is no response from the voice.*

### Powers

*Powers blinks, and finds himself on a caravan stop in the Talenta Plains. The light is low, and across the fire in front of him is a small girl, perhaps seven or eight years of age, She's staring at Powers piercingly, as if looking through his soul as she eats from a platter beside her. "*Powers. So strong, and yet so brittle.*"*

"Are you what they call the Tear?" *Powers asks?*

"I've never been called that before" *she says, head cocked almost unnaturally to the side.* "Do you know why we're here?"

“Something in these waters wanted to reveal themselves to me? Hopefully I am not drowning as we talk, I just want to get my charges back home along with myself if possible.” *Powers says.*

"That's one possible explanation." *She grants him, nodding her head as she grabs another morsel of food.* "Do you know why I picked here, in particular? You recognize it, don't you?"

*Looks around again* “It's home or where I feel at home for the first time? The fire at the end of the night after a day on the trail, food to share and people to swap stories but missing the people. I wouldn’t say much, just listening as I groomed Zord or worked on my gear but still had to keep vigilance; still dangerous at night but...that’s one reason why it beautiful.” *They reminisce fondly.*

"You are weak, Powers. You lack conviction." *She spits something into the fire. Powers couldn't make out what it was.* "It will lead to your death. Take this, for example." *She motions around her.* "This is not the Plane of Dreams. This is on Khorvaire, three nights from now." *Powers takes another look around and is horrified. The campsite, which had been quiet and deserted before, is now strewn with corpses, every man, woman and child in the caravan torn apart, as if by wild beasts.* *Powers recognizes the totem animals on the tents as a minor tribe that he’s met a few times. In a sudden fit of inspiration, he realizes that he recognizes the little girl as well. It’s Alys, daughter of the chief of the Brightscale tribe. He also realizes that she is absolutely covered in blood, and she’s been grabbing fingers from a platter beside her this whole time. She smiles, and her mouth is full of sharp teeth.* “So weak, little halfling.”

*Powers darts for thier swordtooth dagger, intent on avenging the tribe slaughtered like animals around them.* "Little halfing is redundant!"

*She nimbly dodges out of the way of all of their attacks, smiling all the way.* "Small in spirit, Powers. Small in conviction." *She winks, blowing him a kiss.* "Small in courage". *She dances away to the other side of the fire, takes a deep breath and* blows *sending a flare of sparks and embers at the halfling, blinding Powers momentarily. When they regain their vision, they find themselves slowly sinking to the bottom of the pool which is far deeper than they first thought. With a start, Powers swims to the surface and hacks out a lungful of water. One phrase sticks with Powers as they return to the waking world.*

**The skindancers return.**

### Hedwyn

*The world all around you blurs as he dives into the water and he finds himself in his family's inn. There's a roaring fire crackling in the firepit, and the inn appears to be abandoned except for a single figure sitting beside the fire, back turned to Hedwyn.*

"Mama? Is.. is that you?" *Hedwyn slowly approaches.*

"No son, it is not your mother." *The deep, baritone voice of Hedwyn's father is unmistakable*

"Father! What are you doing here?" *Hedwyn rushes to embrace*

*The figure holds up a hand, stopping Hedwyn from getting close enough to embrace him* "There's a reason I never came home, son." *He pulls down the hood of his cloak and Hedwyn can see a mottled texture to his skin. He lets the cloak drop and Hedwyn can see an ivory white tentacle snaking it's way around his father's head. It moves, and Hedwyn can see a single, baleful eye staring him down.*

"I... I thought that I had found something. But it turns out that something had found *me*".

*Hedwyn gasps* "but... what *is* it?"

"I cannot pronounce what it calls itself, but what you must know is tha-" *Hedwyn's father cuts off in a scream of pain before the screams cut off abruptly, and the figure of his father abruptly straightens.* "You are the spawn of this husk?" *The voice, while still his father's, has an undertone that he's never heard before and it sets all of the hairs on the back of Hedwyn's neck upright.*

"Father...how could this
happen?" *his eyes narrow* "You. What do you want with him? What have you done? Relinquish him at once!"

"Your progenitor is *mine* now. He knows that the true way to survive is to bow down to the superior species."

"FATHER! You must tell me where you are! I know you're in there!" *Hedwyn screams with tears streaming*

"Foolish mortal. Any who encounter Sisanthak and live are blessed and have used all of their luck for this life and the next."

"Sisanthak. I name I'll remember. What foul pit do you call home creature?"

"My home? Currently your progenitor's spinal cord." *Another scream of pain, and his father suddenly turns towards him, wild panic in his eyes.* "Hed, you must leave. It's *seen* you now. Flee, before *it* takes over again!" *Hedwyn's father quickly embraces you and mutters some incomprehensible halfling into his son's hair.*

"Where are you father!? I won't let this happen to you! I *will* save you, just tell me where to go. I'll travel to the end of this world if need be. This won't be your fate!"

"No son, that's exactly why I *cannot* tell you where I am. I won't let you fall prey to this... this *monster*. I can feel it surfacing, Hed, but there's something that you must do for me." *Hedwyn can see the eyestalk shake itself a little bit, clearing the daze that had appeared in it's eye.*

"...what is it father?"

"Tell your mother that I love her." *Hedwyn can feel his father's body stiffen, and his hands dig into him. His entire body language changes, from fear and desperation to a sort of languid confidence and arrogance. He runs his hand along Hedwyn's hair before he can escape his grasp, and he can feel his hair, skin, and even* skull *ripple under it's touch.*

"You *bastard*! I won't let you get away with this!"

"Foolish mortal. I already have." *Hedwyn is then shoved by the creature wearing his father and is abruptly back in his body in the Tear of Syberis, water rushing into his lungs as he instinctively breathed in after shouting*

Hedwyn hears one final thought pulsing in the back of his mind, like a seed.

**The Heart of Winter is coming.**

### Kyle Hardy

*As Kyle walks down into the pool, he notices how clear the water looks, and how deceptively deep it is. He blinks, and suddenly finds himself in the middle of nowhere. It's an open grassy plain, and there's a pair of simple dirt roads crossing each other beneath his feet. It's only when he looks down to confirm that he's standing on a crossroads that he hears someone clear their throat behind him.*

*He turns, and sees his reflection standing before him, down to the small scar on the right side of his neck that he didn't think anyone knew about.* "So. We're going by Kyle now, I see."

“Yes *we* are. Is this the trail Ulthara spoke of?”

“Who’s Ulthara? This is about *us*”

“Well I’m here to appease a tribe of lizard folk and get on with this mission. What about you?”

“I’m here to tell you how *embarrassed* I am to be you”

*Kyle scoffs* “What’s to be embarrassed about? I do what I like, do what I’m good at, and make some coin in the process. Not a bad life”

“All the while ignoring your heritage.”

“You mean *using* my heritage. Who better as a spy than a man with innumerable faces?”

“When was the last time you *felt* the *glory* of a shift?”

“I like being Kyle. If and when the need arises I shift. Not because I have to but because I want to. So what?”

“You are trapping us by embracing *Kyle*. We are not constrained by the same limits as the solidskins. We shouldn’t be stuck like this”

“You see it as stuck, I see it as freedom and power. Being Kyle lets me keep my abilities to myself. What the enemy doesn’t know helps hurt them. Why does it matter to you anyways?”

“We are meant to be as water, to flow and adapt to any situation. But you are wasting our potential”

“Adapting doesn’t always mean shifting. I’m quick on my feet, well prepared, and a versatile linguist. And as much as you say *we,* it’s *my* life, and *my* decisions.

“Is it now? “ H*e starts walking with purpose towards you as his smirk grows*

*He lifts his arm and smiles. He looks expectantly at you, and his smile fades as whatever he’s looking for doesn’t happen. You realize with horror that your own arm is lifting, right arm to mirror their left.*

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be as confident as we think we should be”

“Control?! *That’s* what this is about?! Fine, I’ll try and shift more often. Now stop playing puppet master,I have a job to do that apparently involves an inter dimensional entity”

“Control? That’s the thing that we should embody the *least*”

“Lesson learned, but this is a waste of time. You may think I’m trapping myself but you’re the one keeping us here. So why don’t you relinquish control and we can both be on our way?”

“You’re the one that wants control” *He says, pointing* beyond *you*

K*yle spins around, bracing himself for whatever monstrosity awaits him*

*A gaunt, snow-white figure with iridescent blue eyes is standing less than a foot away from him, breathing on Kyle with its slim slit of a mouth. In a heartbeat, it’s eyes widen and it’s mouth pulls back in a snarl as it grabs Keyle by the throat and lifts him off of his feet, dangling him in the air.*

-You will *free* me, halfbreed!-

*It speaks directly into Kyle's thoughts*

“How about we go with no on that, actually. I rather like being me, and I’m assuming you’re Mershaulk and your time is running out.”

-Who is Merrshaulk? We are *one*, ‘Kyle’, and you cannot hide from this forever. You will release me, and your companions will rue the day they trusted you.-

*He raises Kyle higher, and darkness soon overtakes his vision. He opens his eyes a moment later, and finds himself floundering in the Tear of Syberis, floating below the surface.*

## In-Character Transcript

Ping @chae in Discord when adventure is complete and she'll export & upload transcript here.