Career in Ruins

**DM**

* Asura

**Players**

* Beckett d'Medani, khoravar cleric/bard
* Fluke, warforged sorceror
* Maba N'gashta, orc fighter
* Vonan'khesh, golin'dar ranger with Monaak, the best girl

**Notable NPCs**

* Lord Mathias ir'Ulvi, a scholar at Morgrave University
* Captain Wilkas d'Lyrandar of the *Aureon's Riddle*
* Avrahk'Tokeraan, golin'dar Stormreach Wayfinder and littermate of Vonan'khesh
* Gremvalax, hobgoblin Stormreach Wayfinder and mate of Avrahk'Tokeraan
* Tak-ak-cha, mantisfolk guide from under Stormreach

## Introduction

*With one Mr. Willard Wencove handling the logistics of an expedition to Xen’drik in the background, one can rest comfortably knowing that there would be no shortage of travel bookings, rations, and the required minimum of expenditures ahead of the trip to come. It frees the volunteer Wayfinders from the drudgery of all the paperwork of sorting out a letter of marque and instead focus on the final matter at hand - a simple letter that has arrived in the mail addressed to each of them, each with a small note from Wencove stating simply:* “Message from the aforementioned scholar for each of you.”

*Contained in a simple envelope with a wax seal containing the image of some sort of rodent stamped upon it, the letter within is heavier than one might expect. The writing itself seems to mix a deliberate choice of pen strokes with a hurried hand, with a few smudges as the writing moves toward the right side of the page.*

> Greetings Wayfinders!
>
>

> I am overjoyed to hear that the Wayfinder Foundation has chosen to support this expedition to Xen’drik! I think that Lord ir’Dayne himself shall be astounded by what we are bound to accomplish in the coming weeks. As a gesture of my gratitude and that we might come together in unity as the Khoravar do, I invite you all to join me for dinner this evening. I have secured a reservation at the Grand Plains Grill in the Smoky Towers district. I recommend against eating too much in advance.Simply tell the staff that you are with me - dinner shall be an hour after sunset and if you are late you may miss some of my good company to further preparations!
>
>

> Lord Mathias ir’Ulvi
>
>

> Morgrave University
>
>

> Ulvi Fellow
>
>

## Summary

The Wayfinders are invited to a meeting with Lord Mathias ir'Ulvi at a local restaurant in order to meet with them and pitch the specifics of the expedition that he is funding. The goal is straightforward, if missing the sort of hard evidence that many expeditions would prefer to have - he is chasing after a mysterious sect of drow in the depths of Xen'drik which have apparently been able to restore themselves from death, even after taking particularly nasty ends. Ruling out more common explanations such as "reports of death were mistaken", the initial response the Wayfinders have to him is that he is woefully naive, overly optimistic, and likely to end up dead by the end of the expedition. Still, he has the funds to sway Wencove and an airship booked for the next day.

Boarding the *Aureon's Riddle*, the group finds themselves in the care of Captain Wilkas ir'Lyrandar and his mixed crew of fresh faces and veteran sailors. The ship proves more temperamental than some of the Wayfinders care for, shaking and jostling for long stretches of the trip, but the trip itself proves uneventful. The airship, by virtue of being able to go high with the fire elemental ring, avoids the worst of the storms over the Thunder Sea and is able to settle into Stormreach without traumatizing Monaak any further.

In Stormreach, the group decided their first order of business would be to touch base with the Nest - the Wayfinder Branch office in Xen'drik. Along the way, they were accosted by Dale the Dazzling, who apparently recognized Beckett from a previous stint in the Red Ring as the persona B. Whilst Dale attempted to acquire the autographs of the Wayfinders (only succeeding in receiving one from Maba), a group of thugs took advantage of the distraction to make a failed play for their wealthy pockets. It did not pan out. After a short exchange leading to Dale's autograph book being badly burnt, an exchange of heated words between Fluke and Beckett, and a hasty exit by Dale the Dazzling though - everything was left intact and unstolen.

Arriving at the Nest, the group were greeted by the stone giant caretaker Qopaq, as well as the two Wayfinders currently holding down the fort - Avrahk'Tokeraan and his mate Gremvalax. While unfortunately dealing with problems of their own stemming from Kharva Crack-Tusk and a host of young Wayfinders going missing, they were able to catch up with Vonan'khesh and pass on some useful information - specifically, travel through the jungles of Xen'drik was complex enough that they would need to rely on waypoints rather than the paths themselves... and they wished to head to a territory the Wayfinders did not know well. Encouraged to find a local guide, the group ultimately decided to risk their luck with the mantisfolk - a strange race seemingly unaffected by the Traveler's Curse. They took some time to rest, collect stamps from exhibits (and a new hand piercing), and then headed with Gremvalax into the sewers.

While they were accosted by some sort of ooze that apparently had been cleaning the sewers, the Wayfinders were ultimately able to find their way into old ruins of the mantisfolk, filled with vertical chambers, pillars to hop between, and the sense of ruin that even this had been fallen and abandoned for centuries. Ultimately, they were able to track down the active mantisfolk to a common meeting chamber and, making themselves known there, attracted a group of the beings that attempted to test how edible they were. While initial overtures of peace were met with violence, Maba was able to keep Beckett from losing her head and a temporary ceasefire was forced by a strange mantisfolk calling themselves the Arbitrator. Though great confusion was had about the exact nature of the exchange that followed (and how attempts to offer things for their guidance went so poorly), a few things became clear: these mantisfolk referred to themselves as the Knowing and that one of the Knowing was willing to guide them to their destination. The group left the bowels of Stormreach into the jungle with Tak-ak-cha, a strange mantisfolk who could only communicate with them with pictographs, whistles, and chirps.

Their guide navigated them to a strange monolith covered with runes in Giant and some unknown second language. The area around it was in perpetual night, with stars and moons visible in a way that could not be as they were today, complete with a strange green moon that was identified as the lost moon Crya. The group was able to ascertain that this was connected in some way to the plane of dreams, Dal Quor. Deciding that their guide had taken them to a potential shortcut after some attempts to communicate, they chose to activate the monolith, transporting themselves to a strange dreamspace where their forms were seemingly replaced with those of elves and some sort of ancient construct.

Choosing to follow after Tak-ak-cha (who was unchanged), the group found that navigating the dreamspace was significantly different than that of the jungle in the Material. Things became significantly worse as something shifted over the dream - depicting the Lost Moon now destroyed and terrible storms of lightning and fire and other magics wreaking desolation across Xen'drik of the past. The group managed to flee the apocalypse after Tak-ak-cha into a stone tower, where they found themselves confronted with a great old giant who demanded of them a task - to bring the bodies of three drow in gleaming black armor to the Crucible to be renewed.

Finding this dream less dangerous than the apocalypse they had just walked out of, the group chose to embrace it (to a degree). They found that the dream carried them swiftly to their new destination, where a drow in similar equipment instructed them to place the body upon an altar atop a great ziggurat and give an offering of blood. Doing so opened a vast pit and - having been requested to deliver instructions - the others were requested to deliver that to the bodies thrown in the pit. Offered the choice of descending awake, asleep, or dead... the Wayfinders all chose awake. Unfortunately, they found the pit dampened whatever magic they brought with them (waking up Mathias from a self-inflicted slumber) and the fall considerable. While Maba survived the fall by virtue of astounding athleticism, the others fared much differently. Embracing the fate the dream laid out caused the jolt back to reality to be less shocking to Fluke, Vonan'khesh, and Monaak. Fighting it tooth and nail led to Mathias ir'Ulvi and Beckett d'Medani perishing in a most gruesome manner. Tak-ak-cha chose not to jump.

Snapped back to the Material Plane, Fluke started out disheartened before it was brought up by Vonan'khesh and Maba that the purpose of their trip was to seek a means of resurrection and that they were offered to descend deceased. Noting a statue seemed to react to the Khoravar Beckett, they were able to get one of the statues to activate and present her upon one of four stone altars in the temple. This triggered the appearance of a great blue firebird who resurrected the Medani heir, restoring the body and branding her with a blue stylized star. After argument with the firebird regarding the treatment of Mathias ir'Ulvi, he was similarly restored - albeit as a drow, and branded with a blue tome. The price for such resurrection? To complete three trials to prove themselves worthy of such resurrection.

The Trial of Spirit proved to be a matter of bearing the wrath of some manner of terrible chained titan whilst activating four statues dedicated to the Titan King Cul'sir. The Trial of Mind required rearranging a tile puzzle to show two elves bowing to Cul'sir, through identifying the right mechanisms and means of activation. The Trial of Body required brute force to defeat an enemy that kept restoring itself through a strange arcane mechanism. Ultimately, all three trials were overcome and the group was allowed to access a final teleportation circle to leave back to witness the glories of Cul'sir.

The witnessing turned out to be a broken tower on the western outskirts of Stormreach - unfortunately it has apparently sunk fifteen feet since the teleportation location was set. Still, some quick thinking led the group to survive the fall, and with his research "complete enough" and their charge still alive, the Wayfinders return to Stormreach triumphant.

## Epilogues 1-3

### On a Ruin in Xen'drik

A low to high whistle sounds as a bipedal praying mantis, exoskeleton the color of grey stone, straightens up on the top of a massive stone ziggurat in an open clearing in the jungle. Two drow stand at close attention next to an altar, dressed in gleaming black armor marked with strange symbols upon it. They do not notice the mantisfolk as she flicks her antennae toward a dark pit upon the center of the ziggurat. The path of the dream had gone along the path that they had willed, but Tak-ak-cha was now saddened that it was coming to an end. She slips down from the stone ziggurat, the entire structure suddenly older and worn and the jungle encroaching to consume it. Tak-ak-cha felt that she should at least see how the dream wraps up, so she slips back into the jungle. She knew the less dangerous parts to travel by and they went so fast when things were not exciting anyway.

Tak-ak-cha only spends a few moments and twelve days to find herself back on the edge of Stormreach. She clambered up one of the old walls to get a nice overlook of the city in the setting sun. Tak-ak-cha knows the city well, even if she does not spend time to wander it. It is a city of ruins, a city in the height of glory, a city collapsing in flame and fury, and a city thriving with the Knowing. She would be able to step through so many different stories just by walking through the streets at night. It was fascinating that the Half-There did not even seem to know about the danger. But they were different from the Knowing after all.

Tak-ak-cha considers for a moment. It might be worth warning some of the Half-There she guided. They were curious and their dreams fun to walk alongside. They kept things quick and exciting. It would be a shame if they were to not know what they brought back with them. Besides, one of the Knowing could stick to parts of the city of Stormreach that many of them would not know about. She would merely need to wait until night falls.

So she does not wait. It is night and she hops from roof to roof across the ruins of Stormreach. She crosses dreams of new empires and dreams of riches and dreams of peace. They never made sense to Tak-ak-cha. The dreams of hunters are far more exciting. So she perches upon the great stone tower of the Nest, entering inside of it as the silent hunter. She remembers how to give a warning to the Half-There.

And so, on the edge of the dream of each Wayfinder (and Mathias), on the night after their return to Stormreach, their dream is interrupted by a strange sound. A very loud high to low whistle that hurts the ears, followed by a hiss and a soft rattling sound.

And so Tak-ak-cha leaves things, satisfied that she has helped.

### In a Ruin in Xen'drik

It always begins with a fall. Living or dead, awake or in dream, the result is always the same.

At least that is how it had been in the past.

A body falls into the blue torch light with the signature breaking of flesh crashing against stone. A stone statue lifts the body upon a stone altar. A familiar firebird descends upon the stone altar as a pillar of blue flame, consuming the form of an elderly drow in battered armor in its fierce light. That pillar soon shifts into the form of a tower, etching onto an existing mark upon the battered black armor the drow wears. <“Rise, Countless of Towers. Be reborn with my ember.”> The voice of a giant speaks in the mind of the drow as they rise from the slab for yet another time.

Where the body that had descended was wrinkled with age, the newly formed drow form seems at the peak of life. No white tattoos mar the body, though the marking on the armor are akin to those in the dream of Wayfinders now distant. White hair drapes down over the armor, sweeping as the drow turns to examine the chamber. Eyes flicker open, filled with the same blue fire of the firebird and hone in on the indentation of the shield upon the stone ground… and the diminished size of the firebird.

<”What has happened here?”> The drow intones with a combination of dawning realization and confusion. He reaches out to the phoenix, planting a hand upon the creature’s ephemeral beak. Fire rushes up along his arm and, consuming his eyes and ears as they rush into the drow’s form - but seemingly without causing harm to the Countless of Towers. There is a pause. Silence falls between the two with only the crackling of magical flame and his slow and staggered breathing to break it.

Trials ultimately are unnecessary for one so infused with the embers left by Cul’sir. Soon, he is perched atop a familiar tower, staring at the face of his master and the ruins of the kingdom. It was not his duty to deal with the encroaching outsiders. His duty was to maintain the Crucible as an honor to Cul’sir. And so he allowed these strange people to push into the Cul’sir Dominion, knowing that the Crucible was secured and that the Embers of Cul’sir would burn unhindered in those loyal to the Emperor.

This changed things though. Outsiders had taken embers for themselves… and claimed amongst themselves that the Emperor had fallen. He had failed in his duty to secure the Crucible… though he knows not how they bypassed his vigilance. And if the Cul’sir Dominion had truly fallen…

The Countless of Towers stares over Stormreach, eyes filled with the same blue flame. He would need to learn about these outsiders if he were to pursue the trespassers, much less if he were to carry out the next steps of his vigil.

“<The Emperor will be eternal. I need only carry out his will.>”

### In Morgrave University, Sharn

> Dear Prof. ir’Ulvi,
>
>

> I am very sorry about the long delay in reaching a decision on your manuscript, particularly as in the event we are unable to offer to publish it. We had great difficulty obtaining referees reports on the subject matter; your manuscript, however, now has been seen by two reviewers whose comments are attached.
>
>

> While it is clear from the essentially favorable comments of reviewer 1 that your findings will be of interest to others in the field, reviewer 2 is not persuaded that they represent sufficient academic rigor to justify publication in Monthly Notices of the Arcane Congress. Given also the discrepancy mentioned by reviewer 1, we have sadly concluded, on balance, that your paper would be better placed in a more specialized journal, particularly given the competition for space.
>
>

> I realize that this must be from your point of view a very disappointing outcome, particularly after such an unfortunate delay, but we do hope that you will understand our reasons for the decision, and that you will find our reviewers’ comments helpful when a new version of your manuscript is resubmitted elsewhere.
>
>

> Yours sincerely,
>
>

> Prof. Mikael ir’Solkor
>
>

> Associate Editor
>
>

Reading the letter aloud again does not make the result any more palatable. Lord Mathias ir’Ulvi flings his arm across the table, sending an inkwell scattering off to strike against the wall, splattering ink onto it. He cared not for the result. It was unlikely that he would be remaining in this office for much longer. After all, he had been pinning all his hopes on this - on that one big result that would make his mark for himself after so much hard work. So much money invested in the right social networks to make the connections with Hendra ir’Kavay, donations to make certain that his suggestion of an expedition would be accepted, and yet more coin to finance everything about the expedition. He was so certain that things would work out precisely according to plan that he had even splurged on an airship of all things. An airship!

And now, here is the Monthly Notices of the Arcane Congress informing him that his research was unsatisfactory? He died for this research. He was forever reshaped for this research! So what if the anonymous reviewer decided that the discrepancies in dream logic sounded more like a fanciful pulp novel and he had a more promising career writing crown dreadfuls than exploring ruins? He knew it was true and the Wayfinders had vouched for the credibility of his work. That should have been enough.

Mathias runs his hand through his white hair, a flicker of blue flame dancing in his eyes for a moment as he rages. He feels a swell of power through his new form, but it passes as another unfamiliar sensation in a body that is not his own. The red eyes take hold again over all else as he tries to think of how to handle this. He could resubmit to another paper, certainly, but the academic prestige would be less. He had needed to demonstrate that he could expand beyond the less savory journals that Morgrave produced to secure more external funding. He could certainly not simply say that the ir’Ulvi coffers had been depleted in his studies and ask for additional funding on that matter - he would be a laughingstock!

There is a knock on his door, the silhouette of a person through the tinted glass. Mathias frowns again. Likely somebody else come to gawk with curiosity at the man turned drow. “Away with you! I have… very important academic papers to read! Quite busy after my expedition as you know!”

The voice that replies is muffled and hard to hear. But Mathias’ eyes light up only as a drowning man thrown a lifeline can.

“Funding, you say? Do come in!”