Their path led them into a desolate and barren garden. Dead trees and empty flowerbeds lined the straight paths that converged at a pavilion that rose up at the center of the garden. 

The sunlight came so suddenly that they had to blink as their eyes adjusted. As they did, they noticed that the garden had undergone a miraculous recovery. The trees were green and full and the flowers were brilliant in the afternoon light. Furthermore, they were not the only visitors in the garden. In groups, pairs, or alone, other people wandered the paths, enjoying the beautiful day. 

A diminutive man wearing a long, purple robe suddenly appeared in the pavilion. The man sneered with hatred as he casted a spell of titanic proportions. they could actually feel the life being sucked out of the trees and plants around them. The visitors of the garden screamed in terror as a wave of stone rolled overhead, blocking out the sun. When the last of sunlight disappeared, the screams faded away, and they were left alone in the darkness of the dead garden. 

Their path through Under-Tyr took them to a street that had a deep ditch dug in the center of it. The edges were lined with stone, and a number of bridges arced over the ditch making it seem as through the ditch was an intentional feature. At the bottom of the ditch were the remains of a strange type of wooden craft, similar to a silt skimmer. It was little more than dust and fragments at this point. 

The spirit boy was sitting at the middle of a bridge across the canal with his legs dangling over the side. A long thin pole laid on the bridge next to him. When they get close, he looked up at them and said, “I used to fish here. I think I miss the fish most of all. I haven’t caught one in such a long time.” He faded away, leaving them with the pole and the question of what a fish was. 

The group found their once friend, and traitor to the Veiled Alliance, and now undead, Marama.

“My friends, Obadias must be stopped. Time is short, but there are things that you need to know. Once, Obadias, Mahlanda, and I were friends – close friends, I thought. We adventured together, much as you do now… but I digress. As the Sun marched on, things changed. With Kalak’s fall, Mahlanda and I each took up greater positions in the Veiled Alliance, while Obadias delved deeper into the mysteries of the Templars.” Marama shakes himself, as if shrugging off memories of the past. “Obadias made a discovery in the libraries of the Templars, a reference to elemental beings of tremendous power called `Primordials’ – and cults that venerated them. According to Obadias’ discovery, the Primordials and their followers were able to harness great power without defiling the land. Of course, the Sorcerer-Kings would permit no such threat to their authority; they put down the Primordials and their cults long ago. Obadias believed that he had found a way to rediscover their power. He went to Mahlanda for help, but she would have nothing to do with it – with him, I believe. Matters of the heart, you see. He approached me also…” Obvious regret touched Marama’s face. He gestured at his unnaturally emaciated form with a grimace. “A fool’s trick, and I was the fool. We all paid a heavy price. Unfortunately, the wages of that mistake are not yet complete. Obadias, has a plan, one that extends beyond his jealous desire for Mahlanda. Obadias intends to become a Sorcerer-King.” Marama allowed the words to sink in for a moment before he continuined. “Somehow – perhaps via the True – Obadias has obtained the Heartwood Spear, an artifact of a previous Age that was used to defeat Kalak. The Veiled Alliance feared that the essence of Kalak was somehow trapped inside the Spear, but we were unable to confirm the theory. Obadias convinced the True to breech the Ziggurat, ostensibly to resurrect Kalak. Once inside, Obadias turned on the True, sacrificing them with the Spear. The rituals that were to resurrect Kalak have instead brought forth some vestige of the Sorcerer-King, potent but lacking the mind of Kalak. The vestige seems to grow in power as Obadias sacrifices people to the Spear. I now believe that I understand Obadias’ purpose. You know already that Obadias and the True were working on ways to bind elemental spirits to people; you’ve seen his fire elemental, and the ancient temple outside of Altaruk. I believe that Obadias intends to carry out this process again, binding the mindless power of Kalak to himself. If he succeeds, he will effectively have transformed himself into some sort of elementally empowered Sorcerer-King. This must not be allowed to happen.” Marama again paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Before Obadias convinced the True to move up the plan to resurrect Kalak, he had been exploring some remote areas of Under-Tyr. Shortly before their excursion into the Ziggurat, he made a discovery, some place he called the Chamber of Shadow. I believe that the Chamber contains a gateway to the Grey, the plane of death. From what I have been able to discern of his plans, Obadias intends to open the gate, travel to the Grey, and there subjugate and bind the essence of Kalak. If he succeeds, he will be far too powerful for us to oppose directly. Whatever the cost, he must be stopped before that can happen.” 

The going was easy, at least compared to their last foray through Under-Tyr. The directions were simple, and the obstacles minor. As they traveled farther from the True bastion, however, the way became less traveled, and more challenging. Various squads and groups of their assault split up, seeking alternate paths around, over, and through hazards. Signs and signals were passed back and forth, The scouts had reported sighting a group of dangerous undead guardians ahead. Navigating around them would take too long, and the decision was made to push through. A group was needed to sneak past the guardians and lure them away with a distraction, after which the other groups would either sprint past or play rear-guard. Several eyes turned to them. 

Attempting to lure the meorties away however failed and many perished trying to get by.

Ahead of them, the passage forked and turned, becoming a maze of abandoned streets and underground boulevards. Their directions said that they could take any of the passages, as long as they kept advancing. Movement flickered at the edge of their lights, and a True agent of some sort came out of the warren. “The shadows! The shadows are alive! I saw them, dozens of them, headed this way!”

The group weaved their way, left and right, always forward as gangs of shadows met them at every point. Through the use of Faerie Fire, a fireball, skill and battle prowess they made their way through. Though not before taking murderous loss to the others and much pain to themselves.