Umber

The end of Moloch’s reign of terror.

By the time Erenil returned, Brin had curled up on the ottoman at Hadrack’s feet to make space. The elven ranger flung himself down on the hearth rug, and the others took the remaining chairs. Klavicus watched the room’s occupants with disconcerting intensity, while Psydney mostly stared at her hands. Both Hadrack and Willie made tentative overtures toward her but were rebuffed. Erenil’s gloomy expression suggested he hadn’t fared any better. Somewhat to Brin’s surprise, the psi warrior looked up and asked her abruptly, “How is Callie?”
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Players and spectators gather at the Three Feathers Inn.

Somewhere in the Gamboge Forest, an elf in golden chain mail on a strange, obsidian mount rode an unmarked path. The few individuals who by accident or design happened to draw near ran in terror when the beast turned its eerie red eyes on them. The elf rode with the absentminded familiarity of a path often taken, absorbed in her own thoughts until her mount spoke into her mind. This is a very slow Road. You know that I could take you to the entrance.
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Unexpectedly trapped on Manifest by new deity Moloch, the adventurers receive a message from a mysterious ally.

Pointing to a scorched object – one of many – on the ground, Callie asks, “Is that a magical rod of some form?” Dryden looks at it carefully and answers, “No, that’s a forearm, probably human.”

She sees a twisted crown on the ground, examines it, and then turns to examine the other broken and burnt objects. With a startled expression, she immediately turns her focus back to the crown. Away – back again – away – back again, apparently seeing something you cannot.
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Strange paths lead to Tikka Ti’Jarra, the Hawk amphora and a final confrontation with Moloch.

It was early afternoon, and Erenil and Hadrack were discussing reports of new Shadow incursions when the Heironian appeared to fall into a kind of trance. Alarmed, Erenil tried to rouse him. When all of his attempts failed he considered summoning help, but recalling what happened last time he reported erratic behavior of Hadrack’s he decided to wait and see if the situation resolved itself. And indeed, after some time the ranger stirred. He seemed normal enough, although he was preoccupied and withdrawn, and apologetically asked Erenil for solitude.
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Growing in power, Moloch experiments with inverting reality.

Returning to his rooms after a late supper, Hadrack was a little surprised to see Brin sitting on the floor by a fire burning more brightly than when he’d left it. Her expression was even more grave than usual, but at least she looked less exhausted than the last few times he’d seen her. “Why didn’t you come looking for me?” he asked as he sat down next to her.

“It’s funny, but this is just about the only place I can come to be alone. It’s too dangerous in the real world.” She sighed. “Real world. Whatever that is.” He was about to ask her what she meant when she said, “Dryden did it the other night, though. Wandered away from the campfire and into the woods by himself. I thought about stopping him, but – he had the strangest look on his face.”
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In search of an elusive rest, Dryden takes midnight target practice. (cp) 

Inside a small clearing, a circle of adventurers lay sleeping. The hour was late and the air chill. On a night such as this, a fire would have normally provided both light and warmth, but oddly no flame burned. Instead, the ragged bunch slept coiled in their cloaks and individually did what they could to fight back the cold. Occasionally, the clouds would part allowing just enough moonlight to reveal greater detail of the forest, but they would collapse again moments later, returning the world to near darkness.
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What one sees in the reflections that are others. (ler)

By the time Tcho’eh called a halt for the night, Brin felt ready to fall out of her saddle, but the peace of meditation eluded her. She found it difficult to believe that they had only arrived at – and left – Lurneslye that very day. Too much had happened, too many strange things, with possible consequences she couldn’t begin to predict and wasn’t sure she wanted to try. Still restless after her prayers, she extended herself out into the shadows and the Three Feathers Inn. Hadrack was alone in his room, working late as usual, and his smile of welcome turned to concern as he saw her face more clearly. “You look exhausted. Why aren’t you resting?”

“I tried. I can’t. I’m too – it’s all been too much,” she sighed.

He patted the chair next to him. “Let’s talk,” he said. She sat down and, elbows on her knees, rested her head in her hands. “How was Lurneslye?” he asked.
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Where others hear unintelligible whispers, Brin hears something very different. (sab, ler)

To Brin, they are not merely whispers, but a calling similar to what she’s heard before. But this time, instead of the chanted and demanding ‘Loviatar’, she hears a quiet voice, gently repeating her true name. The voice and the scar across the boy’s throat beckon. “Who are you?” she replies. “What do you want?”
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Some welcome, some question, the desire of a pair of Lurnselye villagers to accompany the adventurers (af, cp, ler, pc, sab, tad).

After Corwin and Brin both defer to Ammitai on the matter, the paladin greets the newcomers. “Of course you can join us! We can always use another pair of skilled hands, another lifetime of stories to tell and jokes to lighten the weight of the world after a troubling day. All I ask is that you are careful with your lives. We have a way of attracting danger to ourselves, and we’ve already got enough heroes so don’t try to be one! So, introductions: This is Brin – an absolute pillar of strength and power, and Callie the psion – Oh, how do you feel about bears? – and Corwin the… um…. Sneaky guy. This is Dryden, the man of a thousand arrows – isn’t that the biggest eagle you’ve ever seen? – and Vayel with claws of fury… do you like cats? I mean BIG cats? And this is Dinadel the wizard, and I am Amittai. Welcome!”
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St. Cuthbert pleads the dead Xoad’s case. (sab, ler)

From the road leading to the town of Lurneslye you hear the soft sound of wind chimes ringing. Without knowing how, you know that Death approaches. The black and silver carriage that comes into sight is led by four spirited black horses, harnesses made of black leather and sparkling silver and steel. The windows of the carriage are draped in heavy black cloth, and the driver is similarly garbed. Light seems drawn to the carriage, its team, and its driver, and consumed, except for the few ornaments that shine with an almost lifelike energy. With startling clarity, you notice that the buckles on the harness are skulls and the tongues of those belts are in the shape of daggers.
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