Session 110

Dragon Crown Mountains

Chapter 1: Stone Basin

The party had stumbled upon a natural basin carved deep into the stone, its waters so impossibly clear they seemed to give off their own faint light. Beneath the shimmering surface lay a bed of stones ablaze with color—crimson, sapphire, and emerald—like a treasure trove hidden just out of reach. The sight promised cool relief to parched lips and weary eyes, but its beauty hid a cruel truth.

Safi was the first to reach toward the gleaming stones, only to have agony flare across his skin as the liquid hissed and bubbled, eating into his flesh—it was acid, not water. Shank, ever cautious, dipped a metal longsword into the basin, only to watch it dissolve into nothing. Determined, Anvar gritted his teeth against the pain, plunged his hand in, and yanked free one of the brilliant stones—only to watch its color bleed away, leaving nothing more than a dull, lifeless brown rock. Breaking it in half revealed only ordinary stone.

Karnos, convinced magic might withstand the basin’s curse, dipped his enchanted longbow into the fluid. The bow withered and warped, ruined beyond repair. Frustration surged, and with a thought, Karnos unleashed his psionic power, hauling every colored stone from the basin at once—only to see them all lose their luster, crumbling into the same worthless brown.

Then Shank’s eyes lit with reckless inspiration. Declaring his intent to “cannonball” into the basin, he stripped himself of gear while the others wisely retreated. With a mighty leap, he plunged into the acid. The beauty of the pool shattered into horror as it began peeling away his skin in wet, sickening layers. His bold grin twisted into a scream, and he scrambled out, his flesh raw and blistered.

The others rushed to heal him, the acrid stink of the basin still burning in their throats. Without another word, they turned from the false promise of its colors and pressed on into the dark, wiser—and warier—than before.

Chapter 2: The Dragon Crown Mountains

They had seen them long before they drew near—the Dragon Crown Mountains, a jagged wall of black stone raking the sky with talons of ancient rock. Even from miles away, the peaks ruled the horizon, grim and unyielding, their presence a challenge etched against the heavens.

The land at their feet was no less hostile—a barren expanse of shattered stone and torn earth, as though the mountains themselves had crushed and cast aside all that dared approach. In their shadow there was no warmth, no welcome—only the oppressive weight of an ancient power, coiled like a serpent and waiting for the moment to strike.

Every step toward them seemed to whisper the same truth into their bones: the Dragon Crown did not suffer the unworthy. And yet, against that looming wall of stone, the party found a moment of fragile safety. They halted among the rubble-strewn foothills, took their rest, and gathered what strength they could—knowing the mountains would soon demand their due.

Chapter 3: Braxat Attack

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead as the party wound their way through the treacherous passes of the Dragon Crown Mountains. Behind them, the broken foothills tumbled away into the yellow plains, but before them the jagged defile promised a narrow path deeper into the peaks. Sweat streaked their faces, and their arms bore the marks of countless scrapes from the climb. It was almost enough to distract them—until the hulking shapes emerged from the stone ahead.

Massive reptilian beasts, armored in rough shells and wielding heavy spiked clubs, hissed their rage as they closed in. Braxat—predators of the desert, feared and pitiless.

Anvar stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he assessed their weaknesses through his psionic diagnosis. The group was immediately assaulted by a wave of psychic pain—mind thrusts searing into their thoughts. Karnos fired his blasting crystal, but the shot went wide. One of the braxat leapt from a stone pedestal and unleashed an ego whip upon Anvar, its psychic lash cutting deep.

In a blur, Zahraan used Step of the Wind, grabbing Shiv and Safi and hurling them toward the foe before striking out with a flurry of blows. Another braxat burst from brambles, charging Safi with clawed fury. Safi dodged the first strike with the grace of a performer, but the second tore him down, and the creature’s massive foot drove him into the ground. With a roar, Safi’s form shifted—bones twisting and muscles reshaping into a six-legged kirre. Claws and fangs tore into the braxat’s armored hide.

Yet another ambusher lunged for Zahraan, whose quick reflexes spared him the worst of the first blow—only for the beast to slam him prone and rake its claws again. Shiv’s rage boiled over; with reckless abandon he tore through the brambles to flank a braxat, his mace striking twice with devastating critical blows that shattered the creature’s skull before he turned his wrath on another.

From the shadows, a braxat reared back and spewed a cloud of caustic vapor, burning into Safi’s kirre form, Shiv, and Zahraan. Shank charged forward, Cursy at his heels, loosing a crossbow bolt before igniting his greataxe in fire. Still another braxat erupted from hiding, its own toxic breath searing flesh.

The battlefield became chaos. Zahraan repositioned Shiv with Step of the Wind before healing him with Blessing of the Tree, but another psychic mind thrust ripped through the group, sparing only Shiv. Safi, still a kirre, lashed out with every limb and tooth, only to be struck by brutal claws, one blow landing with bone-crushing force. Shank, calling on his Fury of the Arena, cleaved down the wounded braxat and switched positions with Safi to shield him.

The fight only grew bloodier. A braxat’s vapor breath dropped Zahraan. Shiv rallied with a Second Wind, raining blows in an unstoppable Action Surge. Another lunged at Shank, clawing deep, but Shank deflected a second swipe. More caustic vapor fell Safi once more. Anvar’s psionic quick burst brought him to Safi’s side, reviving him with Vitality Boost and restoring Zahraan’s strength with Blessing of the Tree.

Karnos fired again with his blasting crystal—and missed. Shank’s greataxe struck another killing blow, then found a new target. But another mind thrust rolled over them like a psychic tide. Zahraan pressed in on the last braxat, fists a blur in a flurry of blows. The creature’s breath weapon felled Shiv and Safi again. Anvar refused to let them fall, forcing Vitality Boost into Safi and pouring a potion of greater healing into Shiv’s mouth.

Then Karnos spotted it—a figure high on a ridge, invisible but for the psionic power radiating from it. The true source of the mind thrusts. Shiv tore into the last braxat with reckless fury while Safi’s toll the dead spell rang out like a death knell. Shank’s axe ended the beast.

Without pause, Shank took to the air, closing in on the hidden enemy—only to be struck by a psionic disintegration that seared the very air around him. Before they could strike back, the foe vanished, teleporting away.

In the eerie quiet that followed, they searched the battlefield. Among the scattered rocks, they found the remnants of a recently abandoned campsite. And there, lying alone in the dust, a single ceramic shard—its surface bearing the unmistakable image of Hamanu.

Chapter 4:Brambles and Ridges

At last, they began their descent, the jagged heights of the Dragon Crown Mountains falling away to reveal a vast, bowl-shaped valley spread out before them. In its heart, a deep blot of green drew the eye—a living jewel amid the stone. Could it be? The legendary forest of the Dragon’s Crown lay only miles away, beckoning across a gauntlet of razor-backed ridges.

Yet the promise of that green oasis was guarded well. The ridges before them were a nightmare of twisted, wind-sculpted stone, their edges sharp enough to flay flesh. Between them yawned deep ravines, choked with black, thorn-choked brambles that promised agony to any who dared pass. Even from a distance, the land radiated hostility, daring them to try.

The wind howled suddenly, whipping up a pall of dust that shrouded the badlands in a choking haze. The final stretch would be slow, grueling, and dangerous. But Karnos, eyes narrowing against the stinging grit, had no intention of letting the land dictate their fate. With a focused breath, he summoned his psionic power, the air shimmering faintly around the group. In the next heartbeat, the treacherous ridges and bramble-choked gulches were gone beneath their feet—they had been carried, in an instant, across the last miles to stand at the very edge of their prize.

Chapter 5: The Silent Forest

The knife-edged ridges and thorn-choked gulches of the badlands fell away at last, giving way to a sudden stretch of flat, level ground. A cool breath of wind swept over them, carrying with it the rich, almost intoxicating scent of moisture—a gift after so many miles of parched stone.

Only a few hundred yards ahead, the forest rose like a dark wall, its silent canopy seeming to watch their approach. Stepping into its shadow was like entering another world. The air was cooler, heavy with dampness, and the dense green pressed in on every side. Visibility shrank to only a few dozen yards through the lush growth, where massive leaves dripped slow beads of water into the earth.

The forest whispered softly in the wind, its voice carried in the high branches, while now and then a solitary droplet fell like the ticking of some unseen clock. Yet beneath that gentle music lay an eerie truth—there were almost no signs of life. No birdcalls, no rustle of small creatures, only the weight of a stillness that felt as watchful as it was unnatural.

Chapter 6: Unexpected Allies

Pressing deeper into the jungle’s shadowed heart, the party’s steps halted at the sudden sound of battle ahead—steel ringing, blows thudding, and voices crying out in desperation. Weapons were drawn, and they crept forward through the dense foliage until the trees gave way to a small clearing.

There, two weary travelers in dust-stained cloaks fought for their lives against towering monstrosities of assembled insect chitin, their black carapaces gleaming dully in the filtered light. Standing behind the creatures, a shaven-headed man in a fine white tunic gestured with calm precision, his eyes fixed on the fight—directing the horrors as if they were extensions of his will.

The clash turned grim before the party’s eyes. One of the insect golems struck a killing blow, felling a thin psionicist with a cry that split the clearing. The other traveler—a stocky dwarven psionicist—dodged frantically, warding off not just the creature’s blows, but some invisible mental assault.

Zahraan wasted no time, using Step of the Wind to carry Shiv and Karnos into the fray. Karnos attempted a baleful transportation, but the magic fizzled. The second golem barreled toward the dwarf. Shiv became a blur, dashing in to pull the dwarf from harm’s path with a bait-and-switch maneuver.

Safi’s hands swept outward, and thorny spike growth erupted beneath one golem’s feet, while Shank charged after his brother, calling Cursy and igniting his greataxe in flames. Anvar surged forward with psionic speed, while Shiv hammered the golem with his mace—only to find its chitin barely yielded, spraying a vile, poisonous fluid. Snarling, he grappled the thing and dragged it through the spike growth, only to discover the magic had no effect. Safi let the spell fade as Shiv went back to smashing at the creature. The golem slammed him hard, and his retaliatory swing missed its mark.

Zahraan seized Anvar and darted in close with another Step of the Wind, his fists striking in a flurry that left one blow cracking deep—a critical strike. The dwarven psionicist fled to safety, and Anvar unleashed a mind blast to no effect before bolstering Zahraan with Vitality Boost. Safi hurled sacred flame, but the light sputtered harmlessly against the golem’s hide.

Shank pressed in, Karnos channeling psionic urgency to give him an opening strike. Shiv then broke away from the golem and closed on the fat psionicist, his mace crashing down in a brutal critical blow that nearly ended the man outright. In shock, the psionicist teleported away.

A golem’s claw slammed into Shank, spraying him with burning venom. Roaring, he turned on the wounded monstrosity, cleaving it apart before spinning on the last one. Blow after blow rained down until, with a final devastating strike, the second golem shuddered and collapsed into stillness, its chitinous limbs twitching once before falling slack.

Chapter 7: Join Forces

In the quiet after the battle, Anvar hurried to the fallen psionicist’s side, uncorking a potion and pouring its contents past his lips. The man stirred, drawing a sharp breath as life returned to him.

The dwarven psionicist stepped forward, offering heartfelt thanks. He introduced himself as Shardivan, and the man Anvar had just saved as Mara. The enemy who had fled—Barrach—was one of their own, a psionicist of the Order. But Shardivan’s tone darkened as he explained: when Pharistes, the current leader, ordered the death of Mahlanda the avangion and refused to relinquish the Psionatrix, they could no longer obey. The three had splintered from the Order, marked as rogues for their defiance.

Upon learning the party’s goals aligned with their own, Shardivan and Mara extended an invitation—join them in an assault against the Order at Desaraches, the White Fortress. The promise of battle and reckoning hung heavy in the air. Without hesitation, the group agreed, and together they set off toward a war council, where plans for the coming strike would be forged.

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