You all make your way through the city of Avalon and soon find yourself at the gates, where the General and her three sons await your arrival. Fury, equal parts beauty and tenacity, stands with her arms over her chest, her expression hardened. She greets each one of you, and as Sig continues his bawdy tune, the General fights back a sneaking smirk at Blood’s expense. The red-faced Captain Blood appears fit to be tied and threatens to break Sig’s lute over his head. A bleary-eyed Bran stands beside his mother while Corvus and Dennan are having an animated debate. The animation seems to be more on the side of Corvus, as Dennan is as unreadable as ever. As you draw closer, you can plainly hear that the two appear to be in some kind of dispute. Or rather, Corvus is disputing while Dennan stands stolidly, seemingly unaffected by his brother’s passionate arguments.
“No,” comes Dennan’s rumbling voice.
Corvus shakes his head in disagreement. “It makes no sense for you to go!”
“You’ll never find her. You’re a shoddy tracker at best,” returns Dennan.
“All the more reason you should be going to the fields with the Childer and Blood,” reasons Corvus. “Somebody has to go after Serenity before she does something stupid.”
“And who will keep you from doing something stupid?” mutters Bran under his breath.
Corvus ruffles his brother’s shaggy black hair. “Very funny, twerp.”
Dennan turns to Fury. “Mother, will you please make him see how ridiculous he is being?” petitions Dennan. “With the frequency of Severan’s movements in the mortal realm, the last thing Corvus should be doing is heading out on his own.”
Fury sighs. “Personally, I think it’s a fine idea. If I had my way neither of you would be leaving for the fields. Yet, Dennan, I know you are the best tracker we have, so I must reluctantly watch as you go.” The General turns to Corvus. “And I sincerely had to bite my tongue when you agreed to go to the fields in the first place. Given your recent…” Fury hesitates. “Given what happened with Dignity, the last place you should be is somewhere a malevolent spirit can latch on to that thick head of yours.”
Corvus swallows hard, obviously fighting back emotion at the mention of his lost love’s name. “I would like to protest, but I know you are probably right.”
“If Serenity doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be,” speaks Dennan. “Furthermore, you shouldn’t be going alone.”
“She’ll listen to me. I know what she’s going through right now. She just lost her brother. When I lost dignity, I just felt… lost. They way I see it, she’s bound for one of two places. She’s either going to try to track down Cael, or she’s going somewhere that reminds her of Constancy. I’ll find her,” responds Corvus resolutely. “I’m already packed and ready to go, and I won’t be alone. Muse is going with me. And, you’re welcome, I’ve already found a replacement for the dispatch to the fields.”
Right on cue, Lurien Honor can be seen making his way down the main road that leads to the gates. The lovely Muse has her arm looped through his.
“Look, you know what Serenity is capable of. She’ll catch wind of us really fast if I take a search party. Then she’ll just use that stupid teleport orb to go somewhere else. We know damn well she’s not coming back here,” reasons Corvus.
Dennan nods. “She might have gotten out with that orb, but no one can return to Avalon unless it’s through the gates.”
Blood frowns. “I am going to have to talk to Dethys about keeping his blasted tools locked up. First Fenwick with that locating orb, now Serenity with that teleportation orb. How many damn orbs does that fool have? He can cast any spell he wants! Why does he need so many of them? I swear he leaves them out for foolish apprentices to get their hands on. Do you recall when Cardack stole that Blasting Powder from Dethys’s sock drawer?”
Fury sighs. “We had to rebuild the city gates after that one.”
In the back of Fenwick’s mind, the mage can hear Cardack weigh in on the aforementioned events. “That was… hilarious. One of my better ideas, really. I did kind of blow up the gate, but I learned a great deal about the practical applications of blasting powder. Quite fascinating really.”
“Look, we can’t afford to wait, and neither can any of you,” reasons Corvus. “Let’s stop dawdling and be on our way.” Corvus wraps Dennan into an embrace that is promptly returned. Dennan lifts Corvus off the ground, leaving the latter’s feet dangling in the air. After several moments Dennan drops his brother who easily lands on his feet.
“Be well, brother. And for Divine’s sake, be careful. Serenity is desperate. She may be young, but she is powerful. In her desperation, she may resort to measures she would not usually take,” states Dennan.
“Pshaw. You worry too much, brother,” Corvus kisses his mother on the cheek and embraces Bran.
Muse gifts Honor with a kiss that spans a very lengthy amount of time. Blood rolls her eyes as Muse makes all manner of passionate noises as she moves her tongue in the unsuspecting Honor’s mouth. The Lieutenant, usually serious and all business, grins from ear to ear.
“Goodbye, my dear. Come back in one piece, will you? Though if you must come back in pieces, keep those soft, delightful lips intact.” Muse winks at Honor as she slings the strap of her lute over her shoulder. “Goodbye, love.”
Honor stares after her. “Fare thee well, milady. I shall count the seconds until you grace me with your presence again.”
Blood doubles over as she makes noisy gagging sounds.
Muse smirks. “Don’t pretend you’re so hard-hearted, Blood. There was a time even you were lost in love. I pray it finds you again.” As Muse passes by Sig, she gives a gentle tug to his beard.
There is an eruption of swirling purple light as a portal suddenly materializes in front of Corvus and Muse. Corvus pauses to wave to his family and Muse blows a kiss to Honor, who pretends to snatch it from the air. Corvus takes Muse’s hand in his and the two disappear through the portal, which snaps shut behind them.
Cleo wraps her arm around Fenwick’s waist before smothering his face in gentle kisses. “I will miss you so very very very very very very much, Wicky. I know you haven’t even left yet, but I already miss you. Remember, my love, if you need me… you know what to do. I’ll be there in an instant. But, I somehow doubt you will need me. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are so very very very very strong, Wicky.
“Strong?” questions Cardack. “I’ve seen him trip over air and fall headfirst into a bucket of water he failed to carry more than five feet.”
Cleo ignores Cardack. “I don’t know why you can’t see that in yourself, Wicky, but I do. You are capable of so much!”
Nearby, Archer, Besnik and Faile say their goodbyes to Sembas. Archer wraps her arms around his neck and gently kisses him once upon the lips. It is a single kiss, but affected with emotion.
“I know you can handle it, but I still wish I was going with you,” confesses Archer. “Hurry home, Sembas. There is so much awaiting you here in Avalon. Remember what I told you, my love. Be wary of the fields, and,” her voice becomes a whisper. “Trust no one. Not even those in your party. The fields will twist and corrupt, but you, my love, must be above its influence. The Marrow will test you, but in times of darkness, think on me and the love I have for you.”
Anlaf is perched upon Sembas’s shoulder. He is lighter than Faile, and the falconer’s shoulder feels almost naked without his usual companion. Faile’s expression makes evident her heartbreak and regret at not accompanying Sembas.
No words are needed between the falconer and his feathered friend, but Sembas can plainly feel the worry and fear present in Faile. “Come home…” says Faile simply, and as an afterthought. “Please…” It’s not a word you hear from her often. Falcons, by nature, are unapologetic and not the most well-mannered of creatures.
“Well, I for one am not saying goodbye to you, meatbag,” states Besnik. “Because goodbye sounds far too permanent. I know you’ll be back. You better be. These eggs won’t wait forever…” Besnik’s tone softens to one of sincerity. “And it would be a shame if you weren’t here to see them hatch.”
Honor enlists Siron in helping him to ensure all of the supplies and provisions are prepared when their efforts are interrupted by an earth shaking roar. Hurtling towards the young knight is a massive bear. He has no time to react to the charging beast and when it is merely inches away, it quickly redirects its path and lunges at Dennan.
Dennan affectionately places his hands on the bear’s head. “I am sorry, my friend. The Marrow is no place for you.”
Fensten grumbles in response.
“There’s no use arguing,” speaks Dennan. “I’ll be just fine. Besides, I need someone to keep an eye on the place while I’m gone. You see what a shoddy job those badgers did last time. Lazy buggers let the hedgehogs raid the larders.”
Fensten whines, his enormous brown eyes pleading.
Dennan kisses the bear upon the head. “Chin up, Fensten. You don’t want the ladies seeing you in such a state.” He gestures to Archer. “She’s going to think you’re a big furry, baby. Is that what you want? They’ll say, ‘that lout Fensten. A common teddy bear is tougher than him.’”
Fensten protests again to which Dennan replies, “I know, my friend, but in this case, it is far wiser for you to remain. I’ll be back soon.”
Fensten, quite literally, bear hugs his master before loping towards General Fury and sitting at her side. The General pats the bear on his large head to comfort him. Dennan crosses to his mother, hugs her firmly, and proceeds to Bran whom he swings around in circles. When the young man can bear no more, Dennan sets the dizzy lad back down. Bran stumbles about awkwardly before falling into a bush nearby.
Suddenly, it feels as if all the air around you is electrified with intense energy. There is a loud whirring sound and a bright, crimson light flashes into existence. Shifting washes of dark gray and deep black swirl within the center of this new portal.
“Looks like Cleo was able to open up a primary portal,” observes Fury. “We thought she would have to transfer you to a secondary one from her tent, but it looks like she was able to bypass it. This will send you directly to the area outside the fields. Dethys gave her the instructions to cloak the portal’s entry efficiently, but you will need to move quickly. We can’t afford to leave it open long, so get through as soon as you can,” instructs Fury.
Blood grabs Sig by the hand. “Whatever you do, don’t let go of me. Portals are unsettling enough, but the one that leads to the Sanguine Fields isn’t exactly the most stable.”
Honor grabs Blood’s free hand, then takes Siron’s in the other. One by one each member of the party joins hands until only Fjorin remains. Fjorin moves to take Lai’s free hand, but he feels a hand upon his shoulder. As he turns, he finds himself facing the Blood-Warden General. Fury reaches her right hand over her left shoulder and unsheathes an enormous blade. Its craftsmanship is exquisite, and the blade itself is the color of obsidian with strange, red swirls mixed throughout. Fjorin has never seen such a blade, but had heard tell of weaponsmiths, unparalleled in skill, to the far East.
“It’s a souvenir I brought from my homeland,” explains Fury. “Though your mortal weapon is well-made, this is far more befitting of a warrior.” Fury hands Fjorin the belt and scabbard before laying the sword across both of her palms and, almost reverently, presenting it to the heir of the Ebonmane.
“This sword is well-attuned to the earth. Should you find yourself in a tight spot, thrust it into the dirt. Your way out will be revealed. While this sword is in your possession, none may disarm you. In addition, this sword cannot be blocked by normal means. Shields crumble and parries fail. As long as you connect, you will do great damage to your target.”
“Oh… and one more thing.” Fury reaches into a bag at her feet and extracts a large fur belt adorned with black hide and set with a large red stone. There is elaborate steel metalwork surrounding the gem. “Should someone manage to strike you, there is a chance their damage will be negated, and instead, reflected back at them threefold. Good luck, Fjorin, and remember to take care with that parcel.” Fury gestures to the Fjorin’s pack where the sack containing the mysterious object is stored. “Farewell, Lai.” Fury nods to the former Carnis who smiles back at her.
Dennan is at the front of the party, leading the chain of companions towards the portal. “Whatever you do, do not let go of the person in front of you. Should we become separated within the portal, there’s no telling where you may end up.”
Anlaf digs his talons into Sembas’s shoulder to gain a firm grip.
Slowly, you all draw closer and closer to the portal.
“Alright, you heard my mother. We need to be quick about this.” Dennan signals before he breaks into a quick sprint towards the portal. Dennan is the first to disappear through, and one by one, the rest of you follow. This portal is certainly more violent than any you’ve been through before. It feels as if the portal itself is trying to tear you away from one another. Despite the difficulty of maintaining your holds, all manage to adhere to the previous directions from the General’s bestial son. You all safely emerge on the other side of the portal.
You are violently expelled to the ground and the portal snaps shut behind you. Immediately your noses are accosted by the acrid smells of death and rot. The scent is powerful enough to make your stomachs lurch considerably and Lai nearly fails to maintain her breakfast. You manage to brush yourselves off and rise to your feet, and when you do, words cannot express the waking horrors that stretch out before you.
As far as the eye can see the soil is soaked with the blood of the fallen. There is far more blood than the land can even absorb, and wherever it cannot, the deep, sanguine liquid forms considerable pools. New life cannot grow here, and the trees that remain are twisted, appalling vestiges of their once former glory. Their roots are bulbous and hideous. Their trunks are gnarled and their branches withered and leafless. Even the sky appears scarred in this place. If you look behind you, in the distance you can make out blue sky and traces of rolling hills of wheat and green pastures. Yet, ahead of you, the sky is gray and bleak, the clouds black and ominous. Occasionally, the gray sky is momentarily illuminated by streaks of violent lightning.
“That’s not natural…” mutters Blood.
Dennan grunts in agreement. “Fortuna.”
“Or her new apprentice,” offers Lai.
“Where is the last known location of the Crimson Wolves?” questions Honor.
“You’re standing on it,” replies Blood. She kneels beside a charred bit of wood and holds it up to her nose. “It’s certainly not fresh. Dennan?” She offers it to their tracker.
Dennan crushes the bit of wood in his fist and tosses it into the air. He sniffs for a moment before his attention is drawn to the right of where you are. “Someone was here about three days ago… but I am sorry, Blood. It was not Vartan. It reeks of Forsaken.”
Blood’s face pales considerably. “You don’t think…” She does not finish her sentence, afraid of what may be confirmed.
Instead, Dennan shakes his head. “No. I don’t think he or his people have been injured. If I know Vartan, then he would not have risked putting himself in the open like this. The woods would provide considerable cover.” He gestures to a large stretch of dense, blackened trees to the east. “If I had to guess, Fortuna is probably due north of us.”
“Makes sense,” agrees Blood. “The worst of all the battles was fought at the foot of Hangman’s Hill. It was named for a Forsaken, Attor Hangman. His favored weapon was a bladed noose. He took the high ground and when our alliance charged, he made quick work of many skilled warriors, picking them off as they came.”
“Let’s be quick. We can’t evade Fortuna’s gaze forever,” speaks Dennan. He leads the party in the direction of the forest, but quickly freezes in his tracks. “GET-”
Dennan does not have the opportunity to finish his sentence. The ground begins to violently shake and deep cracks form in the earth. All around you, long skeletal fingers emerge from the cracks as two dozen skeletons rise from the depths of the Sanguine Fields. They haul their blood-stained bones from the confines of the earth. Their flesh has long since rotted away, and their eye sockets are vacant and hollow, yet they maintain a grip on their weapons, tools of destruction that could not even be rent from them in death. One lets out an earsplitting cry, and its fellows charge towards you, their swords, maces, and axes raised, ready to sacrifice more blood to the fields.
