29: Aboard the Lambent Zenith

Map of the Lambent Zenith

Vinthanamel wove the threads of magic, his hands a blur of shimmering energy as he prepared to cast Plane Shift. But as the incantation reached its peak, a jarring sensation ripped through his spell. The familiar hum of reality-bending power twisted in his grasp, and with a soft pop, the portal he had intended to open vanished. In its place, a strange, swirling vortex of soft gray mist shimmered into existence. The spell had gone rogue.

Ever the one to charge headfirst into the unknown, Bessok wasted no time. He thrust his head through the misty portal, his eyes widening at the sight of the astral sea stretching out before him. He was back on the top deck of the ship! The two Githyanki from before, who had been on watch, turned in surprise at the sight of a floating head appearing out of thin air. Their initial shock quickly melted into friendly grins. "Hello again!" they chirped.

Lysan and Zastra, Githyanki Crew

Bessok quickly explained the magical mishap, and they nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes," one of them said. "Teleportation magic doesn't seem to like this area. It gets a bit... unstable." Pulling his head back through the portal, Bessok found himself face-to-face with an uninvited guest. Ilren, the ever-antagonistic Giff, had appeared from nowhere, a smug look on his face.

Ilren, Giff Captain

Ilren began to taunt the group, his booming voice echoing with disdain as he questioned their tactics. But Joe, a leader with little patience for bullies, swiftly turned the tables. He fired back, challenging Ilren's lack of concern for his own crew—a blatant dereliction of duty for any captain, temporary or not. A tense back-and-forth ensued, with Joe determined to push the Giff until he revealed his true colours.

Frustrated, Ilren eventually stomped off to attend to other tasks, but Joe wasn't done yet. He followed close behind, a verbal harangue of insults and jabs pouring from his lips, hoping to bait the Giff into a moment of truth.

With Joe occupied, Vinthanamel decided to try a lesser spell, a simple Misty Step. A new portal, smaller and more contained, opened before them. Eagerly, Bessok peered through once more, his eyes landing on a new, collapsed section of the ship. They had found a way to the section of the ship nestled against the heart of the dying god. The group stepped through, ready to investigate, but as Joe finally managed to break away and rush toward the portal, it flickered and winked out of existence, leaving him stranded on the other side. The party was now split across the wreck, each group on their own.

The separated group, moving cautiously, found a nearby door and peered inside. The room contained a work desk, upon which lay a mechanical wing—damaged and motionless. Unsure of its origin but sensing its importance, they pooled their skills, working together to mend the intricate mechanisms. Soon, the metallic wing was able to flex and unfurl, restored to its former glory.

Just as they finished, they moved to another door and found it locked. They could hear someone inside, and after calling through the door, it was opened by a woman. She introduced herself as Inda Malayuri, the ship's captain, a celestial with a single, magnificent white wing sprouting from her back. The other was missing, as was one of her legs, replaced by an intricate creation of wood and steel.

Captain Inda Malayuri

Her eyes immediately locked onto the repaired wing Bessok was holding. "My wing!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with gratitude. She took the wing and, with a few seamless motions, attached it to her back, making her whole again.

The party quickly explained their quest for the second rod piece, their mission to stop the evil god Vecna. At the mention of his name, a shadow fell across her face, but she agreed to help. The rod piece, she revealed, was directly beneath them, but a protective shield had been installed to keep it safe.

Inda explained how to shut down the shield, giving them a phrase that would deactivate each rune rather than forcing them to be dispelled. With the knowledge learnt, the group transferred the information directly to Joe through their mental connection—a crucial lifeline in this chaotic wreck.

With the new knowledge burning in his mind, Joe abandoned his pursuit of Ilren and raced back to the stateroom. He had a job to do. Shouting the deactivation phrase through the shimmering field of force, he hoped it would be enough to bring down the barrier. Unsure if the magic had taken hold, he turned to resume his hunt for the elusive Giff, but then his sharp ears caught something else—the faint cries of someone below deck.

The Halfling, Cirit

Following the sound, Joe opened a nearby door, and the cries grew louder. The door revealed a hidden section of the ship leading to the brig. Inside, he found a halfling, Cirit, a prisoner held captive by none other than Ilren himself.

Cirit, her voice filled with urgency, revealed the shocking truth that Joe had only suspected. "He's not a Giff," she whispered. "He's a Death Slaad!" She went on to explain that Ilren was the one who had been twisting Figaro's mind, driving him into the madness that had gripped him. Joe, feigning surprise, listened intently. The game had just become deadly.

Not wanting to face such a dangerous foe alone, Joe decided a tactical retreat was in order. He led Cirit back up to her friend, Daveras, so they could find a moment of peace playing cards. Meanwhile, Joe took on the form of one of the Githyanki, hoping to blend in and keep a close watch on the area. The Death Slaad was cunning, however, and had vanished, leaving no trace behind. The hunter had lost his prey, for now.

Back with the main group, Bessok led the way as they flew through the astral sea, their destination another segment of the shattered ship. Attached to a broken lifeboat was a colossal tree, its branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. The only path down was through a trap door, but a thick root from the tree had sealed it shut.

Bessok, ever the pragmatist, immediately took out a battering ram, ready to force a way through. But as he raised the weapon, the tree itself came to life, a low, rumbling voice pleaded, "Stop! If you break through, the creatures below will escape!"

The Treant, Redbud

This was no ordinary tree; it was a treant named Redbud, and it had a deal for them. It asked if they could clear out the creatures below and, in exchange, save its trapped friend, a blink dog named Ikasa. With a deal struck, Redbud pulled its root aside, revealing the open trap door and the ladder down.

A Grell

After a quick moment of preparation, Morthwyl was the first to descend. What she found was a nightmare from the depths: nearly a dozen Grell, floating brains with sharp beaks and a writhing mass of tendrils.

Her flurry of attacks was a storm of steel and fury. One Grell was instantly dispatched, its tendrils going slack as she shifted her focus to another. Despite the sheer number of creatures, the fight was over in mere seconds. For this group, a swarm of Grell was no longer a threat—it was merely an inconvenience.

Once the area was clear, Redbud moved more of its roots, uncovering a study mostly destroyed in the crash. Still, Vinthanamel, with his ability to see the unseen, spotted an active rune. He spoke the phrase aloud, the one Inda had given him, and watched as the rune's power faded into nothing. The party had done their part. Now, if Joe's attempt was successful, the shield around the rod piece should be gone, allowing them access.

Ikasa, the Blink Dog

In the other direction, Bessok ventured deeper into the lifeboat and found the source of the plea: Ikasa, the happiest blink dog he had ever seen. The little dog wore a magical collar that gave it the ability to speak, and it was overjoyed to see them. "You have saved me!" it yapped, its tail a blur. "You are my best friend! I love you! This is the best day!"

After the rune was deactivated, the group led the ecstatic blink dog back upstairs to Redbud. Ikasa bounded happily around the treant, telling the tree it was also its best friend. When talk turned to rejoining the rest of the group, and Daveras' quest to find Ikasa, the little dog’s mood shifted.

A hint of sadness crept into its voice. It had seen Daveras' friend escaping the pirate attack, drifting alone into the vast astral sea. Daveras would be so sad to hear the news, and Ikasa didn’t want to be the one to tell him. In an act of kindness and a mutual desire to preserve Daveras' peace of mind, they all decided it would be best to keep the grim secret.

Seeking a quick route back, they asked Ikasa to blink. With a happy yip, a new portal shimmered into existence. Lucky for them, it led directly back to the top deck of the stern segment, right where the Githyanki were still waiting.

The party regrouped, and Cirit quickly recounted her harrowing tale: the Giff was a fake, a Death Slaad sowing misery and madness throughout the ship. With this new, chilling information, they hunted him down. They found Ilren waiting just outside the stateroom, a malevolent grin on his face.

Captain Malayuri wasted no time. "We know what you are," she declared, her voice ringing with authority. "You will pay for your crimes."

A Death Slaad

The battle erupted, with Morthwyl and Joe leading the charge. Morthwyl's first flurry of attacks was a whirlwind of motion, but it was Joe who delivered the killing blow. After his initial strike, he pulled back, a specific look of grim determination on his face. He drew his bow, nocked two very select arrows, and in a single, fluid motion, let them fly. The enchanted arrows found their mark, piercing the Slaad simultaneously. With a final, guttural scream, Ilren's body dissolved into a cloud of ash.

With the Slaad gone, an eerie calm settled over the ship. It was as if a heavy shroud of malaise had been lifted, the air suddenly feeling lighter and clearer. Those who looked out from the wreck spotted several strange creatures retreating into the darkness of the dying god's flesh—no doubt brought here by the Slaad itself.

A check on Figaro revealed he had sensed the Slaad's death and lowered his wall of force, a spell of restoration from Bessok causing the madness to finally leave him. The group turned their attention to their main objective: retrieving the second rod piece. Using Ikasa's unique talent, they asked the blink dog to open another portal. With a happy yap, the gate shimmered into being, leading them directly to the prow of the ship.

Back through the main cabin, the group retraced their steps, eager to secure the final piece of the rod. They descended a level, arriving at a set of doors they knew led to their goal. But as they pushed them open, they found the rod piece was gone. In its place, a gaping hole led directly into the pulsating heart of the dying god, Havock. The ship shuddered, another beat of the god’s heart rumbling through the wreck. With a firming of their resolve, they descended into the sickening, rotting flesh.

Map of the Heart of Havock

The ground squelched under their feet as they navigated the entry atrium and moved into the main chamber. Bioluminescent orbs provided a sickly light, illuminating a horrifying creature clinging to the ceiling: a Hertilod.

A Hertilod

Taking cover behind a mound of grotesque flesh, Joe fired the first volley of arrows. The creature reacted with shocking speed, scuttling across the ceiling and down the wall toward him, ready to strike. But before it could, Morthwyl burst forward, a blur of motion. Her sudden and powerful onslaught sent the creature stumbling back in surprise. Bessok joined the fray, sending a beam of searing, blinding light into the Hertilod. The creature screeched in annoyance and shifted its target, lunging at Bessok.

But a bolt of lightning from Vinthanamel struck first. The Hertilod convulsed, shivering uncontrollably. It vomited a foul-smelling stream of bile and goo directly onto Bessok. A small, familiar object clinked off his helmet—the rod piece, which the creature had swallowed.

The Hertilod, still reeling, decided it was time to eat. It lunged again, biting down and swallowing Bessok whole before turning its attention back to Joe. Claws slashing, it closed the distance. Joe swiftly retreated, firing a pair of arrows that pierced the creature's flesh, a new rage fueling his attacks. Morthwyl rushed in, delivering a powerful blow to the beast.

Meanwhile, inside the creature's stomach, Bessok tried to teleport out but found his magic still hampered. Instead, a small portal opened inside the beast’s gut and he dove through, escaping just in time.

Though the Hertilod tried its best to consume the team, it was no match for the constant onslaught from Morthwyl and Joe. With a mighty leap, Morthwyl landed on the creature’s back, ran up its spine, and with a flurry of devastating blows, smashed its skull to pieces. The Hertilod collapsed in a heap of flesh and viscera. As the creature's body started to rot, Vinthanamel collected the final rod piece from a puddle of vomit. The team had faced the chaos and won.

With their task complete and the second rod piece secured, the party reunited with Bessok, who had a story of his own to tell after his teleportation-fueled journey through the astral sea. Together, they made their way back to the stern segment of the ship, gathered the crew of the Lambent Zenith, and left the decaying wreckage behind for good.

They returned to their home ship, the Second Wind, and their newly acquired Lamprey vessel, their victorious return met with cheers from Commodore Krux. Once everyone was safely aboard and the new ship was secured, the fleet accelerated to immense speeds, a streak of light cutting through the astral sea as they raced back toward the Rock of Bral.

The Rock of Bral

That night was a blur of celebration. Stories were swapped, drinks were raised, and the victory was savoured. During the night, however, Bessok felt a pang of guilt over leaving the treant, Redbud, trapped on the wreck. He had promised to return or help to have him moved, and so he made a petition to his God for help. For the first time since he had been trying to make direct contact, his God replied. Bessok was shown an image inside his mind of Redbud now moved to a wonderful resting place, a small forest on the slopes of Mount Celestia.

The next morning, as the collective hangover began to subside, the party made a decision: they would sell the Lamprey vessel, a choice that brought them a sizable income.

With the sale complete, the crew of the Lambent Zenith went their separate ways, leaving the adventurers to their own devices. Bessok, the ever-reliable traveller, created a teleportation circle. With a flash of magic, the group stepped into the portal, returning to the Sanctum of the Wizard's Three, the young elven girl, Natalia, safely in tow.

The scene inside the Sanctum was one of chaos. Tasha, normally the picture of poise, was a bloodied wreck, a nasty scar marring her face. Her robe was torn and stained, and the other wizards were flapping about, unsure of what to do. The party's arrival was not just timely; it was a godsend.

Tasha

Tasha, her voice strained, explained the terrifying encounter. She had intercepted a greater demon, a creature of pure malice, working directly with the Cult of Vecna. The battle had been brutal, and she took a terrible blow before managing to defeat the fiend and banish it back to the Abyss. She had barely managed to teleport back to the Sanctum a few moments before the group arrived.

Bessok immediately got to work, his hands a blur of restorative magic. He cancelled the demon's lingering curse before mending her wounds, while Vinthanamel and Morthwyl spoke with Alustriel about the young girl, Natalia. Alustriel, ever the compassionate one, agreed to look after her, offering up a spare room until a long-term plan could be made.

Alustriel decided she needed to get Natalia some food, but before she could leave, Mordenkainen appeared. "Stop," he commanded. "We need to perform the ritual to locate the third piece of the rod. We must do this now."

Mordenkainen

The powerful wizards gathered, the air crackling with magic. Mordenkainen began with a simple Identify spell, which Tasha then boosted with a powerful incantation similar to Legend Lore. Alustriel wove in a Plane Shift, its destination determined by the combined power of the other two spells. A magical thread shot up through the ceiling, a glowing beacon seeking its target.

Mordenkainen turned to Vinthanamel, asking if he knew the Scrying spell. Vinthanamel didn't, but he offered to take over the Identify spell instead, allowing Mordenkainen to handle the scrying. The plan worked perfectly. An image of an entire continent filled the minds of those taking part in the ritual. Alustriel, twisting in a Clairvoyance spell, focused the image further, but her face twisted into a curse. "It won't focus!" she exclaimed. The image of the rod piece was constantly moving, as if the magic couldn't get a clear read on its location.

The Continent of Khorvaire, Eberron

Mordenkainen had a sense of where they were, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He moved quickly to the library, pulling a heavy tome from the shelves and skimming its pages. "Eberron!" he declared, his voice ringing with discovery. "The Mournlands, to be exact. It's no wonder we can't focus; magic there works erratically at best."

He cancelled his end of the ritual, the spells collapsing one by one. "I know someone who may be able to help," he told the group, and with a swift turn, he waved a hand at the portal, instantly altering the runes surrounding it, then stepped through and was gone.

The group was left to wait, spending their time talking with Alustriel and Tasha, discussing Natalia's fate, and enjoying a much-needed meal. Vinthanamel took the opportunity to read the book Mordenkainen had grabbed, learning about a world called Eberron.

Eventually, Mordenkainen returned, wearing a strange illusion of street clothes that quickly faded back to his normal robes. He informed them he had secured assistance from a Lady Elaydren d'Cannith. She would provide them with swift passage to the Mournlands, but in exchange, they would need to complete a task for her—a task that also happened to be in the Mournlands. She would meet them in six hours at an inn called The Broken Anvil in the Lower Dura district.

"Change your clothing," he instructed, a hint of a smirk on his face. "I've left some in my room. You'd look like weird country bumpkins in your current outfits.". He also added that while inside the Mournlands, to search over the fallen Colossi and find an item called a 'Docent', which - when connected to the rod piece - should focus its power, allowing it to pierce through the veil and guide them directly to the next piece.

Stepping through the portal, the group arrived in a small, windowless room, its only feature a teleportation circle. A nearby doorway led into a simple warehouse—a clear base of operations for Mordenkainen's travels. The space was furnished with a bed, a wardrobe of clothes, and a bookshelf filled with books on the world of Eberron, along with local newspapers from the city of Sharn.

The City of Sharn

One headline immediately caught their attention: "Cult of Vecna Slain in Sharn's Lower Levels." The article went on to explain that the cult was unknown in this world, and that their members had been brutally slain in a warehouse. The details were sparse, but the group knew this couldn't be a coincidence.

The wardrobe held clothing not meant for Mordenkainen, but tailored for a human, an elf, and two dwarves. A note was attached to each garment, containing a command word that would transform the outfit from the drab style of the lower class to the finer clothes of high society.

Sharn's Connecting Walkways

Bessok was the first to venture outside, and what he saw took his breath away. The city was not built across the ground, but up into the sky, a staggering collection of towers that disappeared into the clouds. Walkways stretched between them, and the air was filled with a sense of wonder. At their ground-level location, the docks teemed with activity. Bessok watched a sailing ship glide by, propelled at immense speed by a stream of water that continuously flowed around it. Another ship flew through the sky, a similar stream of air holding it aloft. He noticed a few cranes at the docks, their massive cargo suspended and moved by telekinetic threads of magic—a blend of arcane and industrial power.

As the others prepared, Joe took off on his own, his form shifting from one person to the next, a master of disguise gathering information. He spoke to the locals, but found a prevailing mood of weariness. The people seemed downtrodden, with lowered eyes and a general lack of trust. Still, some were willing to talk, giving him brief directions to Lower Dura, the district where they were to meet, and The Broken Anvil inn.

They learned that travel to the higher levels was handled by elevators—platforms powered by enslaved air elementals. Morthwyl couldn't help but ask if the elementals were here of their own free will, a question that hung in the air, unanswered, planting a seed of doubt about this strange, magical world.

Wanting to experience it all, Bessok rode one of the elevators to the highest level, using the command word to shift his clothing as he ascended. He watched as the clientele changed from tired dock workers to the middle class, then the upper classes, and finally the privileged elite at the top. Guards, seeing his expensive clothes, let him through without a second thought. The view was spectacular, and the immaculate design and cleanliness of the upper levels stood in stark contrast to the dirt and grime of the docks. He even saw harpies flying by and an elf on a pegasus delivering mail without anyone batting an eye.

Heading back down after his exploration, Bessok rejoined the rest of the group in Lower Dura as the sky opened up. The rain started as a light drizzle but became heavier with every passing moment. It was time to meet with Lady Elaydren d'Cannith; it was time to head to The Broken Anvil.