Umber

The Snake amphora is regained after a bitterly fought battle in which the adventurers discover their deeper selves.

While the rest of the party slept, Brin and Dryden stayed up for their watch. More accurately, Brin thought as she observed the ranger looking and listening and then, as he melted into the surroundings, failed to observe him at all anymore, Dryden was up for the watch and she was up to offer whatever distraction a heavily armored but not very keen-eyed cleric could provide in the event of a problem. She looked over at the Heironian ranger-paladin Gwydion. He was the only surviving member of a Nyrondian unit sent to track the same yuan-ti they had been pursuing, and she made a mental note to add his ten lost companions to her list of the dead. She was preparing her nightly review when a tiny sapling sprouted at her feet. Keraptis. Oh geez, I’m not alone, this is not a good place to plant a forest, you fool, she thought to herself, feeling guilty for mistrusting his judgment when a moment later the sapling winked out of existence.
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The adventurers adroitly keep a valuable item out of the hands of a heretic who would misuse it, only to lose it to a scalier crowd.

The night before leaving Trela, Brin was awake in the small hours of the morning when she felt again the presence that had startled her earlier in the week. After a few moments, the grinning face of young Keraptis formed in the silver and black leaves of Blastir’s scrying tree in the middle of her room. “Thought this would be a good time to get a hold of you. You look like you’re still in one piece. Everybody else is, too?” Brin nodded without speaking, and the wizard studied her more carefully. “You look tired.”
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The adventurers find things amiss in Trela, and Brin has an unexpected visitor.

Shortly after her nightly devotions were made before a makeshift altar in the pleasantly appointed guest room of her Trelan host, Brin felt a queer sensation come over her, almost as if someone were in the room with her. As she looked about suspiciously, a strange shimmering shape appeared near the center of the room. She watched it cautiously, a hand resting on her staff. It slowly coalesced into something like a tree, but unlike any tree she’d seen before, with strange silver and black leaves. As it grew increasingly – if not solid, at least clear, like a lake’s reflection on a still day – the leaves began to flutter, then spin, then settle themselves into a monochromatic image. She peered curiously at something like a face, and realized with a start that she recognized it.
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Hadrack asks Dryden to remain behind while the others go on to Trela. When he is finally sent on his way, the ranger finds the trip considerably more eventful than he had anticipated. (sab)

The rest of the group moves on to the town of Trela, but Hadrack sends a message to you, asking you to stay with him for a few days. You do so, and spend some time talking with him about your experiences, but after a few days you begin to become restless and unsure of why he asked you to visit with him.

After another day spent probing indirectly as to his purpose, you decide to question him directly. But, as you return from morning chores around the inn, you see that your horse is saddled and provisioned, Hadrack holding the reins. “Ride now, and hard, to catch the next ferry to Trela.” Catching the query in your eyes, he says, “There is no time for explanation, and sometimes the possession of information is more dangerous than its absence.”
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Clement’s newest knights part ways with their liege to unravel the mystery of the Dark Wood.

The smoke in the Lusian forest was visible for miles around. At the Three Feathers Inn, Hadrack paced impatiently for hours. He seldom ventured far afield these days, but he knew where the Blasingdell children had last been headed, and concern, caution and duty waged an unpleasant war within him. Finally, leaving the establishment and other responsibilities in the care of a good friend, he saddled his horse and rode hard for Montinelle, arriving a little after midnight. It had indeed turned into a strange place. Dogs and cats roamed the streets freely, in far greater numbers than he had seen in any city of his memory. The occasional rat scurried among the shadows. He felt no immediate threat, but the world was awash in strange forces these days, and there seemed no good time to drop one’s guard. He whistled softly to Aprepti, sound asleep on the ranger’s shoulder with her head tucked under her wing. “Be vigilant,” he murmured. The hawk looked at Hadrack with an expression that might, in a human, have been called peevishness, but she kept her head raised and peered out at the indistinct shadows of the dark night.
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Clement has a request for Callie and Corwin; then midnight approaches, and irrevocable decisions must be made. (sab)

At the Three Feathers Inn, Clement draws Callie and Corwin aside. “I see that your recent experiences have taken their toll on you in particular. The choices you have made recently have clearly been difficult and confusing. And the Oracle takes its due, yes? Return with me to the Shrine, for there is something that I wish to do there.”

Callie nods in eager agreement, while Corwin replies with more reserve, “You are the lord of the land, and I will do what I can for you. I will accompany you to the Shrine.”
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The adventurers return to the Three Feathers Inn with a welcome guest.

It had been a remarkable day at the Three Feathers Inn. The king had stopped for rest before returning briefly to the Shrine of Nevron, after which he planned to make the journey to Spinecastle. He was  saddened by the loss of four trusted companions but in possession once again of both his liberty and the tokens of his reign, and with five newly-minted knights in tow. Dryden and Hadrack talked until late in the night. Later still the innkeeper stood in the door of the common room watching Brin, dressed in her traveling clothes and sitting alone by the hearth gazing absently at the flames. He slipped back into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a pot of tea. She smiled a greeting as he pulled up a small table and a chair.
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The adventurers meet an old and unexpected friend.

After quiet had fallen on the Three Feathers Inn, a girl wrapped herself in her little used clerical garb and slipped downstairs. The fire still burned in the common room, and in front of it sat the pensive innkeeper, his legs stretched out before him. Never had she seen someone so alert yet distracted. His ranger’s senses seemed attuned to the building’s every creak and sigh; she was certain he knew she was there. But his eyes were fixed on other vistas, shoulders stiffened and hands clenched against a threat not in this place or time. Finally she approached, pulled up a chair and sat silently near, staring into the flames. After several minutes she said, ”I didn’t expect to find you here.”
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Brin ruminates on she and her companions’ departure from Blastir’s keep, and their first mishap.

And so it begins. It has been years since Blastir left, and all of us have waited with the degrees of patience appropriate to us for the sign, the warming of the gemstones he gave us and which we are to carry on our persons at all times. Achomed left us with final words and small gifts, then made ready to leave on his own errands. Corwin, of course, followed him quietly, to see both the direction and manner of his departure. He reported back that the kensai was headed southwest across the water, running across the backs of a school of fish serving as both escort and road. It is a measure of something, I suppose, that none of us were particularly surprised by this. We shrugged and made our way into the depths of the keep where more mundane water transport awaited us, although even we were vouchesafed dolphin oarsmen for a day before taking on the task ourselves. Ammitai was as uneasy as I, I think, at the prospect of traveling for days with our armor stashed in our packs, but metal and water are not a good mix. Piotr insisted on bringing his pony. I hope for his sake that it will not come to an evil end, but I am not optimistic. If die it must, we will offer it a fitting memorial when we reach our destination.
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Blastir impresses upon his youthful charges the state of the multiverse and sets them their first task. (sab)

Greetings, friends.

I have prepared this letter in advance since I am sure that the time of my leaving this place will not be of my own choosing. Things have progressed as I foresaw – not precisely, to be sure, but in general scope and outline nevertheless. As you will soon discover, the fundamental underpinnings of Oerth have been loosed, and we are adrift.
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