[July 1, 2025]

As Witnessed and Described by the Mycorrhizal Network of the Forest in the Land of No Sun The halfling Shawn Shinglesby and the humanoid traveler Woev were engaged in a tedious back and forth consisting mainly of Shawn asking “why?”, and Woev replying with various versions of “why not?”. Eventually Woev grew tired of this and warned Shawn to, “Be cautious in his travels. Some use magic to harm others.” She then tossed Shawn a coin; ice cold to the touch and exuding a dull power all its own.

At his questioning glance, Woev told him simply, “When the time is right, this coin will take you where you need to go. As for now, I cannot take you to the edge of the forest, but you have the power within yourself to move between these realms on your own. You only need the intention.”

Shawn listened carefully to this, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and clicked his hairy heels together three times. When nothing happened, he frowned and popped one eye open to look up at Woev expectantly. With barely contained exasperation, she said, “I think you’ll find it easier if you just walk. Please.”

After an understanding nod, Shawn held out his closed fist toward Woev and waited expectantly until she begrudgingly mimicked the gesture and gave him a “bump”. Satisfied, Shawn skipped happily into the woods. Translated from the Journals of Scarbula the Flea, Inhabitant of Daisy the Cat’s Left Flank

With the two uncooperative guards unconscious on the floor, the dragon-born began to search the room; leafing his way through letters, sketches, and various other papers. My host leapt up on to a table covered in documents and began to roll around vigorously, making a further mess of the tabletop and making it difficult for me to hang on. When she’d had enough, she stood and stretched herself out lazily, mewing softly. Drawing his attention, Drakon noted a a letter with a crimson seal stuck to her backside and plucked it off. He opened it, but based on his expression, I’m not sure what it might have said. Nonetheless he pocketed in with several other papers, and then tucked a large ledger book under his arm before moving towards the door.

Excerpted from the Diary of Vadania “Necro” Amakiir

Finding myself suddenly at the edge of the woods bordering Honiesale, I glanced to my side. The halfling, Claera, and Madame Primm were all accounted for. We hadn’t lost anyone in our unexpected translocation. Before any of us had regained our bearings enough to either speak or move, our missing companion Shawn came bounding out of the woods some yards away and quickly made to join us, smiling and waving vigorously. We caught each other up on what had transpired since we separated, before Shawn pulled a coin from his pocket. Holding it up for us all to see, he asked if any of us were familiar with it’s make.

Madame Primm was, of course, acquainted with this magic, and told us that when the coin was flipped with the right intention, you would be transported to the location of your destiny. As usual, she was scant with details, and said no more. Claera didn’t seem to be listening, and instead snatched the coin from Shawn, declaring, “Oh, I’ve seen these before. We used to have one of these at University” and hucked it wildly into the air above us.

We all looked on with a mix of dread and wonder as the coin hurtled upward and then flip-flopped over and over toward the ground. We watched as it fell to the dirt below us, but just before it hit, the surface below changed to stone, and the coin clattered and wobbled to a stop. A quick peek at our surroundings revealed that we had once again been transported; this time to a dimly lit fieldstone room containing two unconscious humans, and our missing friends Daisy and Drakon. Drakon stood stock still in the doorway, a large book tucked under his arm and his scaly eyebrows raised in surprise. Nonplussed, as always, Daisy simply leapt from table top to Madame Primm’s shoulders and purred.

After a quick recap of what Drakon had been up to in his absence, he showed us the ledger book. Although I would never admit it aloud, the tedious education my parents always insisted upon actually came in handy and I was able to discern a pattern in the coded language. The book was a record of people; it contained names, groupings, classifications, magical abilities, and whether they were alive or dead. What I couldn’t tell my fellow adventurers was what it all meant.

Shawn took the book from me and scanned several of the pages. Finally, he recognized a name, ‘Anitra Willowsbrick’. Shawn told us that Anitra was a child that had gone missing from Honiesale some twenty years ago; simply gone without a trace and never seen again. It became clear to us that this was a list of all those individuals that the Empire had taken. Shawn’s discovery made it evident that, much to our horror, this had been going on much longer than any of us realized. What the book did not contain, was the current whereabouts of those individuals. What had befallen them after they’d been taken remained a mystery.

As we all came to grips with this new information, Madame Primm stood over one of the unconscious guards, muttering something in a low droning voice. We had no time to wonder or ask what she was up to before we heard the faraway sounds of people’s voices faintly echoing down the hall.

As Drakon peered cautiously around the door frame, Daisy leapt down from Primm’s shoulders and trotted down the hallway toward the noise. We carefully followed, and as we crept along, the air got noticeably more clean and crisp. We finally arrived at a polished white stone doorway, a heavy wooden door stood closed between us and the muffled din of a crowd of people eked through the wood.

Given all that I’ve seen him do in the short time since we met the no-name halfling, I shouldn’t have been surprised when he simply grabbed a hold of the doorknob and swung it inward, opening it fully and stepping through to the other side. With little choice but to follow, we all found ourselves wholly exposed on the dais of a massive church. The heavy, velvet curtains were drawn, robbing the room of any natural light. Wall sconces and candle holders of every shape and size littered the church; scores and scores of candles flickered atop them and cast moody shadows throughout the space. We were face to face with a full congregation, the altar and the backsides of two robed figures between us and them. When the surprised muttering of the assembly alerted the holy men that something was amiss, they paused their ceremony and both slowly turned to face us.

The ire-filled eyes of His Holiness, Red Hoof, moved to meet the gaze of each of us one by one. His chest swelled as his breathing rapidly increased and his fists clenched at his sides. The Deacon to his right glanced from him to us and simply stood very still, unsure what to do.

Shawn looked at Claera, and yelled “Hit it!” before taking a few steps forward and addressing the large crowd, shouting, “Everybody give it up for our new cantor, Claera Westwild!”. Never having to be asked more than once to perform, Claera had already whipped out a lute and begun to forcefully strum his favorite power chords. Upon hearing the name, and seeing the man himself, the crowd erupted in thunderous cheering and applause. Shawn hurriedly gestured for them to settle down, before telling them to please make their way to the foyer for snacks while the cantor prepared to perform. As peculiar a request as this was, Shawn’s charm was apparently convincing enough, as the entire congregation stood up and began to file out.

Now even further enraged, His Holiness turned back toward us and inhaled deeply as if preparing to unleash a torrent of malediction upon us. But before he could utter a word, the halfling started running and leapt into the air with his axe drawn. He made hard contact with the priest’s shoulder. Blood soaked through his robes as he fell backward from the altar. With powers newly granted to me by Bane, I commanded the deacon to flee and watched as he turned and scurried off the dais. Giddy with my new abilities, I worked to conjure a magic sickle, but just as it appeared, my blood began to boil and my chest felt as though it were set aflame. I dropped to my knees in agony, the sickle clattering to the ground beside me.

Madame Primm cast a spell of blindness and hit not only His Holiness, but all of us who were near enough to be caught in its sphere. My vision faded to black, and I cried out in pain and confusion. I heard the deacon crashing through the pews and assumed he had been hit as well. It was obvious that Critter had been hit as he squawked wildly in fear and pecked at my folded legs.

The burning in my blood intensified and dark urges began to fill my mind. I was a sudden prisoner to impulse and I could not squash the urge to attack everyone and everything around me. Still blinded, I groped for the sickle and finding the handle, I tightened my grip and swung mightily at my own, dear, sweet Critter. The sickle met nothing but the hard stone floor and I heard Critter’s claws make a hasty retreat. Inwardly, I thanked providence that I had missed, but I was not in control of the rage that bubbled inside of me and I rose to my feet in order to unleash violence on whomever I could reach.

Just then, I heard Madame Primm chanting and I was suddenly thrown backwards with the force of a strong wind, the sickle sliding from my hand upon impact. My vision returned but the anger and vitriol was replaced with a bubbling laughter coming from deep inside my body. A small chuckle escaped my lips. It repeated and multiplied and before I knew it I was helpless to do anything but cackle idiotically and roll about on the floor.

I watched as my friends turned their attention to the priest. Bloodied, blinded and furious, His Holiness muttered an incantation and fire erupted from the ground at the foot of the dais. Formless, floating figures appeared and circled around us. One of this fiendish swarm swooped down and bit Drakon’s shoulder, eliciting a powerful yell from him as he swatted desperately at it.

The halfling screamed and charged at the priest again, swinging his axe and taking the holy man to his knees; a torrent of blood soaked through the robes at his midsection. Still blinded, and gasping for breath, sputtering and choking on his own blood, His Holiness bellowed curses into the air. The halfling swung his axe again, splitting him at the waist before he swung the dark weapon one final time and cleaved straight through the neck of Red Hoof. The thunk of the axe hitting stone and the sound his severed head rolling down the steps of the dais echoed through the church.

Still trapped in a prison of hideous laughter, I watched as my fellow adventurers made to dispatch the swarming black fiends. Shawn hit one with a clap of thunder. Critter pecked viciously at another. Madame Primm reared back and spat poison toward the circling horde. Shawn threw an ice knife, but it missed its mark and hit Daisy, who hissed savagely before dissolving into thin air. Claera whipped out a lute and cast bardic inspiration on the halfling who charged at a swarming creature. Drakon sliced vigorously at them with his glaive. One by one, they fizzled into nothingness and melted away.

The church was silent. Only the labored breathing of my friends could be heard, as they recovered from their exertion and surveyed the damage. The coppery smell of blood and sinew, and an overwhelming stink of sulfur permeated the air around us.

At some point in the melee, Madame Primm’s concentration was broken and the spell of hideous laughter that I was under had fallen away. I rose to my knees and took deep, cleansing breaths as I regained control. I finally felt myself again, but it wasn’t to last. No sooner had I escaped her magic than the dark urges returned. I reached for my sickle and moved to stand.

Claera was the first to sense my intent and he hurled a fireball at me. I was able to dodge the projectile and I charged at him instead, lifting the sickle high over my head. It was a torture unlike anything I’d ever known, to be a mere spectator to my own horrific actions. Tackling him to the ground, my soul crumpled deep within me as I pummeled Claera with my fists and the butt of my weapon. The onslaught only ceased when Drakon cast a shield of faith around Claera and I was thrown backward.

After that, the attacks were fast and furious. The halfling swung his great axe and the blunt side of the weapon slammed into my shoulder knocking me sideways. Shawn used a mage hand to scoop up the head of the priest and beat me mercilessly with it. Claera threw another fireball and this one hit its mark.

I was bruised and bleeding and my energy severely depleted but the powerful rage inside me was otherworldly. I stood and swung my sickle at Shawn, but he threw up a protection bubble and I made no contact.

Before I could make another move, an ear-splitting BOOM thundered through the church. One of the walls crumbled inward revealing a large opening that flooded the room with blinding daylight. Three backlit figures, one large, flanked by two smaller individuals, appeared in the opening.

Eying the darkened figures, Madame Primm gasped, “The oath-breaker, of course!”, her expression hardening considerably. “That’s my cue.”, she exclaimed before she conjured a mage hand above the altar. It lifted a large, ancient tome, and spirited it over to her. She cackled loudly and declared, “This couldn’t have gone any better if I’d planned it! Thank you all for the roles you’ve played.” Then she scurried out through the wooden door at the rear of the church.

Unsure what to make of that, we all returned our attention to the unknown figures. They moved toward the dais and as they left the sunlight behind them, their faces came into focus. It was Imp! Our long lost brother in arms; gone these seven months with no explanation. I had barely registered the thought, or the furious look in his eyes, when the two goblins on either side of him descended upon me at breakneck speed. I lunged to one side and avoided them but fell right into the arms of Drakon who wrapped me up in as tight an embrace as he could manage with his injuries. My arms pinned to my side and my legs swinging wildly in the air, the sickle fell from my hands.

The rage still had not left me and I screamed like a banshee while I tried to free myself from his burly dragon arms. The halfling calmly walked over and slammed me on the side of the head with the butt of his axe. The room spun and grew fuzzy, but I struggled still. He sighed and hit me once more. This time I crumpled to the ground as everything around me went black.