A Prologue

The unbearable heat of a crimson sun.  It rains down from an auburn tinted sky upon the desert sands of a cursed world known by it's land-bound inhabitants as Athas.  Even when the sun crosses the sky during the time of low sun, the heat of day has been known to kill many a traveler unfortunate enough to cross the barren lands either unprepared or ill fit for their journey.

And yet, this world, harsh and deadly as it is, for which even the gods of it's ancient inhabitants could not (or would not) protect, continues to survive; life has managed to struggle onward while the weak perished and the strong grew stronger - and then grew stronger still!  From the edge of the Barren Wastes and shores of the Silt Sea to the jagged, frozen tops of the Ringing Mountains, life here in the Tyr Region is a constant struggle for survival; and yet, there are still small pockets spread throughout the wastes that remind travelers of the world as it was once before, during the era informally referred to as the Green Age.  Tiny remnants that they are, spotted amongst the vast golden waves of sand and jagged rock fields, these patches of paradise that survived the destruction known as the Red Age draw all types of traveler and creature alike.

It was on the hottest day of the year that a wandering nomad spied one of these verdant patches while scouring the desert east of the walled city known as Tyr.  The nomad, weak from travel, like many become who cross the desert, was low on supplies and in desperately in need of a drink.  The elements had been getting the better of him as of late, possibly causing his perceived hallucinations of the shadowy figure following him.  Whenever the nomad began to approach his strange obsession, the figure would appear to blow away as if it were nothing more than sand fluttering in the wind. Even still, he kept his guard up for the desert was a strange place where stranger things have been rumored. 

Approaching the small oasis with optimistic caution, unsure if his eyes were again playing tricks on him, he saw sitting next to the edge of the water, beneath a shady tree, a young minstrel, probably no more than 20 seasons of age, playing a song upon a small yet fancifully crafted lute.  As the nomad came closer, bargaining within on his well found luck and relieved that this was no mere mirage, his approach gained the attention of the minstrel. 

The minstrel immediately began to size the nomad up, plotting the most surefire way to get the desert worn nomad to part with what little he might have to offer...maybe the minstrel's cunningly deceptive slight of hand game which he had used many a time before to loose the coins from so many poorer, unfortunate souls.  As his mind wandered over different plots, the minstrel noticed the nomad had readied his weapon...  

...and yet, there was another figure, hidden from view, hiding beneath the sand, who had silently watched the nomad drawing his weapon.  The unknown individual, steadfast in his resolve, was not about to hesitate in his action; he would wait patiently, using his cover to gain the upper hand, as he had become so apt to do; for no one would spill blood on or defile the sanctity of this oasis, at least as long as this strongly fierce, battle-hardened half-dwarf could help it... 

Chapter 1, Act One: Reflections of Death

From his prone position beneath a layer of sand, the mul sprung up to challenge the approaching stranger whose bow was drawn at the sitting minstrel.  The Mul ordered the wandering nomad to drop his weapon as a gesture to show he would not bring bloodshed upon the Mul's oasis to which the ranger replied, "Along with yours? Well then I shall."  As the ranger and Mul let down their weapons slowly yet assuredly, the humna minstrel began to pipe up and introduced himself as Tholamin Darkeyes.  The Mul boasted the name Khotan and the stranger, letting down his hood to reveal his hlf-elf ears, let out a guarded "Argar" right before their lives changed forever.

Not but within seconds of revealing their names was there a loud northward-bearing screech heard fly over head.  The group quickly agreed that it was a Kestrekel, a carnivorous bird who scavenged newly dead flesh.  As the group pondered the obvious, an elderly man appeared from the direction the flying creature had been headed towards.  His face was as white as the whisps of grey in his hair and beard.  Dressed in a long flowing blue, white and gold robe made of the finest sand-spider silk, he hobbled weakly towards the group speaking in a near breathless gasp, "They're coming....there is...little....time....." before stumbling forward down a sand dune.

The group heard another Kestrekel fly over head but thought nothing of it given that their attention was now turned towards the fallen man.  While trying to revive the fallen man, another raspy caw was heard above, heading the same direction.  Seeing that there seemed to be no way to bring the man to his senses, the group looked towards each other when a rush of excitement could be heard coming their way from beyond the rocks to the north.  Five elves carrying long bows appeared in the distance taking sniper positions while three dwarves clad in chainmail made from the shells of beetles came rushing at the warriors.  From the east, sliding down the rock wall surrounding the oasis, two mantis-like humanoids called thri-kreen came rushing in to flank the three unsuspecting adventurers.

As the dwarves drove closer, a cloud of sand began to lift from the ground between the dwarves and adventurers forming into a being of which many there had never before seen.  This being was a Genasi, a race of humanoids whose lineage traces back directly to the Elementals, beings of absolute power who rule over a plane of pure elemental energy known as the Elemental Chaos; it is thought that this is where the world of Athas is said to have been created.  This Genasi had a tan, almost human like complexion but with strange glowing white lines on his skin that wove a strange pattern all over the humanoid.  This being turned and exclaimed to the three on-lookers in a strangely hypnotic tone, "Fear not, for I am protector of the natural world."  

The dwarves were surprised to see this being materialize before them and stopped dead in their tracks...at least until one began hollering, "I don't know what that is, but we have our orders!  ATTACK!"  The dwarves, elves, and the thri-kreen all began a relentless assault against the motley crew of the Mul, human, helf-elf, and Genasi.  After nearly dying, the four adventurers were triumphant in destroying all of the attackers but not before squeezing out the fact that they were hired by a man named Zekiel. 

With the last attacker dead, they found 10 coins from each of the seven great cities of the Tyr region for a total of 70gp, a strange grouping of money to be found indeed since most people only dealt in one cities currency at any given time.  At this point, the old man regained consciousness and introduced himself as Lakal.  The Genasi requited his name to be Marr and asked if the old man was a friend of the Veiled Alliance ( who are a small underground society of magi who believe that the use of magic is not inherently evil but that it's the use of defiling magic, a way of casting an arcane spell which destroys nearby life in order to make the spell more powerful, that is the true evil).  Lakal exclaimed, "There is no time for questions right now for we must hurry.  I fear that Zekiel may be close to the artifact."  Clearly rejuvenated, he turned and headed back north successfully beckoning the adventurers to follow.

After traveling beyond the clearing of the oasis through rocky corridors, they soon realized what the Kestrekels from before were so excited for.  Before them was a three-cart caravan whose formerly living caravaners were being devoured by a flock of Kestrekels, a quite unsettling sight.   Lakal told them they must reach the lead cart, which was completely overturned, and retrieve an artifact known as the Mirror Shard before Zekiel or all would be lost.  The adventurers then began to make their way towards the lead cart, but not without fighting many Kestrekels and being quite overcome by seemingly harmless rocks which turned out to be rock-cacti, a very deadly form of vegetation which appear as mere rocks until they sense nearby prey come within range of their deadly hidden tentacles.  In the distance, they began to hear the sound of a very unnatural thunder.

Upon reaching the lead cart, Lakal bent down over the dead woman and, while searching her belongings, remorsed, "Poor Sunsil, your death will not be in vain."  He then, finding what he was looking for, stood up.  He told his new friends that the Mirror Shard he now held was a magic artifact and that Zekiel was a powerful defiler who wanted the Mirror Shard to strengthen his defiling powers, for the Mirror Shard had a unique property where it's reflection was that of the world as it appeared in the parallel plane of death known by the people of Athas as simply The Gray.  Lakal further explained that Zekiel planned to use the mirror to strengthen his power by being able to defile both the mortal plane and the necrotic plane at the same time, drawing from and destroying twice as much in the process.

A loud clap of thunder was heard booming all around them as the mighty Zekiel arrived, dressed in a dark maroon robe and holding a orb that flashed in sync with the sound of thunder now clearly coming from this magic orb.  Lakal exclaimed there was little time and instructed the group to "stay close" protect him as he performed a ritual on the Mirror Shard.  Zekiel approached the group but was surprised when knocked back off his feet from unexpected attack from Khotan.  He then teleported behind the group and began to threaten them with death if they did not hand over the artifact of which was the only thing he indeed wanted.

As Lakal began to shake in a fit from the ritual, a glowing, purple mist emanated outward from him.  With great detriment to his physical health, Lakal forced open his eyes and, surmising the situation, yelled for the group to "Stay close to me!  Not...much....longer...left...."  After fighting what seemed a losing battle to the extremely powerful defiler who was nearly killing every person he hit, Zekiel was caught off guard when his orb was knocked out of his hand by the bow of Argar which, combined with the others valiant efforts to slow the mage from attacking Lakal, was enough to allow Lakal to finish the ritual.  

Lakal opened his eyes and mouth as the purple swirling mist engulfed all of the party, stating "I am sorry" right before the purple wisps began to swarm around the adventurers, zapping some of their very life-force out of them as the Mirror Shard deteriorated into dust.  Marr knew that this was a sure sign that defiling magic had just been used but had little time to express his disgust to Lakal in their unsettling success of destroying the Mirror Shard for Zekiel, upon seeing the artifact destroyed, screamed out from his gut in pure anger as he let loose a giant serpent of pure lighting from his orb that struck the entire party down, knocking them all unconscious...

Chapter 1, Act Two: Freedom...But At What Cost

...in progress...