Faerune entered the caves of Paludal. He had seen this place in his dreams. A massive lake occupied the center of the quarry, with gigantic fish swimming all about it. There were two crude camps on each side of the lake. In each camp stood about six to ten bandits, hiding in here in order to escape from the Black Wizards. More primitive beasts lived further in, from myconids to phlarg fiends. Faerune slowly walked to the edge of the tunnel and stood next to Freedrick.
Freedrick smiled and tilted back on his heels. "Ah, she be a beauty, eh? I haven't been in 'ere since, oh, five years. But these walls hold a many memories, and I will find our way around. By the way, Mr. Faerune, where ya be headin'?"
Faerune remained silent as he took in all the wonders of the underground realm. A young child was running through the camps, chasing a small owlbear.
"Mr. Faerune?" Freedrick restated. He looked into his eyes and tried to pick out what he was looking at. It was almost as if he was staring into space. "Yoo-hoo, Mr. Faerune, is anybody home?"
Faerune batted his eyes. Everything was a blur. The only thing he could focus on was a small child in the camp. She was sitting in a chair, covered in cloth. Her face seemed gentle, caring, like a mother's love. Faerune wanted that love. He longed for it more than anything else in these realms. But he kept looking past his wants. She coughed several times. "Cursed you!" Faerune whispered under his breath, "it is your fault I have to do this!" Faerune reached for his sword.
"Mr. Faerune, what are you doing? There be no need to wield your weapon at this time. Those Recondite don't take a too kindly of strangers, much less strangers holdin' a big sword." Freedrick grabbed hold of Faerune's leg and pulled with all his might. It was no use; Faerune was much too strong.
Faerune placed both hands on the handle. With a small twist, the blade began to change. The cavern turned completely dark. Faerune marched toward the camp. His footsteps left white imprints in the ground. The only light in the cave was gleaming from the fire burning brightly in his eyes. He lifted his hilt to his chest and spun the blade in his hands. The momentum attached to sword followed it as he swung the blade down upon the girl. She cried in pain as the blade ripped through her torso.
"Snap out of it, Mr. Faerune!" Freedrick begged. "Wake up from yer trance!"
Faerune doubled back, lost his footing and fell over. The cave became lit again, revealing the heinous crime committed. The girl was still sitting in her chair, motionless. The blanket she was using to keep warm was covered in dark red blood. Her family rushed to her aid. Her mother hugged her daughter and began to weep uncontrollably. The Recondite saw Faerune lying on the floor. "There's tha bastard." All the bandits pulled out their blades at once and circled Faerune on the floor.
"Faerune, wake up!" Freedrick yelled. His pushed his little legs to run faster than he'd ever run before. He ripped out a small flute from his backpack and began to play a soft, whimsical tune. The blades were getting closer to Faerune when Freedrick placed his hand on him. They vanished into thin air. The bandits looked around in wonder. One larger Vah Shir looked over his shoulder to make sure nothing had dragged him away. A slice appeared on his neck. He grabbed from his throat and dropped to his knees. Blood ran in between his fingers as he dropped to the floor. The other bandits quickly looked back, only to see their friend convulsing on the floor. They all re-grabbed their swords, and moved toward the body. A halfling female clutched his Vah Shir's vest. An unholy wind whistled through the cavern. The hobbit looked to the lake to see a waterspout twirling in the water. A water maiden appeared in the maelstrom and began humming a coaxing tune. The Recondite dropped everything they were doing and marched toward the water's edge. White-crested waves crashed against the sides of the rock as the maiden continued her chant. The bandits did not notice the water; they kept walking toward the siren.
The siren was beautiful. He skin was a pale blue. She was ever changing, like the tides. Her hair was long, flowing with the wind. She gave the bandits a smile. They were all entranced by charisma of the water maiden. Then the waters changed. Instead of a deep blue, the water was quickly transformed into a burning red. The maiden's charismatic appearance changed as well. She became a gorgon, snakes in her hair, stone look in her eyes. The bandits cowered in fear. They leapt to the ground, ran into the walls, or attacked each other in a crazed mob. Several bandits drowned, others ran senseless from battle, while still others fought each other, hoping it would end their torment. Not long afterward, not a single bandit was left in the cave.
Freedrick laughed to himself. He started to string his lute and sang, "Oh, the mighty hobbit has saved the day, he scared the bandits all away, and now everyone will have to say, the hobbit has saved the day! They came from the left; they came from the right. The mighty hobbit knew that they might. He pulled out his sword and struck the right cord, and pop goes the weasel!"
They foursome appeared in the Nexus. Tilkin rhythmically tapped on the floor with his cane to find his way around. Galena and Abraham both walked toward the railing. Crassus dropped all of his items when he caught full view of the Nexus. This was his first trip to the crossroads of the planets. The entire area was parallel to itself. At each of the four paths stood a Scion. They were clad in similar robes; the only difference was the color. A massive stone was rammed into the center of the ceiling, mana slowly trickling from the tip. The mana flowed in a constant stream throughout the planar portal, creating magnificent patterns on the floor. At each entrance to the various zones connected to the Nexus, two guards stood at attention. They were all wearing full plate, except for one. She was in regular clothing.
Crassus slowly walked up to the odd guard and asked, "Excuse me…Larren." He looked at a nametag on her chest. "This place seems to be symmetrical, what is the significance of that?"
"That is a good question, sir," she replied in the same chant-like tone as the Kunark Scion used, only this time more feminine. "Symmetry is an essential part of magic. Whenever someone casts an offensive spell, such as Sunstrike, in order for the spell to complete itself, someone else has to be casting a spell that counteracts the damage done by Sunstrike, such as Complete Heal. Now, certain times, Complete Heal might heal more damage than Sunstrike causes, so another offensive spell must be cast to counteract the extra points healed by the Complete Heal. If at anytime these requirements are unable to be fulfilled, a spectacle known to mortals as a 'fizzle' occurs. These happen frequently since it is often hard for magic to find the necessary people to neutralize itself. There is another, rarer occurrence that can take place. On very few occasions, the magic continues to be cast even though there is no other spells being cast that counteract it. A rip in the planes occurs and the person is never heard from again. Many scholars have tried to send a probe into the new plane to collect data, but so far nothing. The scholars have placed stone tablets with the writings of Fironia Vie engraved into the marble on every rip. In fact, there is one just on the other side of the circle. I would not use them though. We do not have enough information on the other plane to safely allow common travelers to pass through."
"Hrmm, you said that this Nexus was supposed to be symmetrical, yet you are much different from your counterpart. Why is this?" Pa asked.
"You are correct, the Nexus is almost completely symmetrical, which neutralizes most of the magic cast each time a stone is summoned to the various spires throughout Norrath. But somehow, our ways of travel were discovered by the common man. So the magic had to compensate for the new flux of mana. So the Nexus reshaped itself in order to counteract the new teleporters. I am not symmetrical with my partner, because if I were, then no one would be able to reach the moon of Luclin."
"Which area are you and your counterpart guarding?" Crassus asked.
"We here are guarding the marketplace known as the Bazaar. Across the hall, two persons stand guarding the entrance to the caves of Paludal. Yet, during the reformation, rocks in the ceiling were dislodged and crashed down onto the floor below, cutting off the pathway. To my right is the entrance to Shadowhaven, the mortal outpost of the Nexus. To my left is the entrance to the Netherbain Lair. It is a long hallway whose only purpose is to lead travelers to either the barren white desert of Marus Seru, or the Dawnshroud Peaks."
"Thank you for everything." Crassus turned and walked to the others. "So where do you think Faerune might have gone? Do we have any clue on what his final destination is?"
Tilkin waved his small arm in the air, "Oh, we have that riddle, Pa. Do you still have that notebook?"
"Indeed I do, son." He fumbled through his backpack, but came up with nothing. "Where in the world did…wait," he grabbed at his coat pocket, "oh, there it is."
He reached into his pants and pulled out the tiny book. He flipped through the pages, most of which were littered with notes, and found the riddle. He cleared his throat, "'It kills at night, it kills at day. It can't be seen until it's too late. It doesn't care if its victim is man, woman, or child.' Hrmm, does anyone happen to have a clue what he might be talking about? Abram, you were with him when he wrote this right, did he ever mention anything like this to you?"
"No," Abraham replied, "Never, he always seemed quiet and to himself."
"Maybe it has to do with his pain from before, Pa. Is there anything in that journal that has to do with the riddle," Tilkin asked.
Pa took the journal out of his backpack and flipped through it. "Nope, I don't see anything in here."
Galena shook her head, "Well, I have no idea what this could…"
"…It's a plague."
The group turned toward the voice. It was a tall man, a crimson cloak covering most of his body. He held a gnarled staff, about twice his height. He was slumped over; age had taken its toll on his health. His skin was extremely tan, almost black. A ragged whiskery beard covered his chin. He spoke again with his deep ominous voice, "It is a plague. A plague kills at anytime of the day. You don't know if your affected until it is too late. A plague does not care your state in society, nor whether you're a woman or child."
Crassus walked toward him. "What gives you the right to spy on us? I don't even know if I can trust you. Reveal yourself."
The man used his drooping arm to pull back his cowl. A large forehead appeared on the man. He was an Erudite of Odus. "I meant no harm, traveler. I only wished to help you with your journey. My name is Magus Bellator, wizard of Quellious. I wish to accompany you on your journey."
"Yay, another adventurer!" Tilkin raised his hands in the air. "Please to me you, Magus, I am Tilkin."
"I am Galena, monk of the Flaming Fist." Galena bowed in humility.
"I am Abraham Marrlan, lord of the Paladins of Marr."
"I am Crassus, gnome adventurer. By the way, did you happen to see a young human pass through here not too long ago."
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. He first stopped to talk to the local drunkard, Freedrick, then quickly ran to Shadowhaven. Freedrick ran close behind."
The crowd went back and gathered their possessions. Tilkin stood near the railing, cane in his right hand. The erudite Erudite walked towards the young gnome. "Why are you holding that cane, young master?"
Tilkin moved his head in the direction of the sound. "Because of the Freeport Militia. After my daddy did his part in the overthrow of the paladin monarchy, the Militia betrayed my father, sighting him as a scapegoat. They came to our house at night, killed my mother and burned my eyes with a branding iron. I was only a wee one then, so I don't remember what seeing was like. Is it amazing, Magus?"
"It is truly a gift of Quellious. But do not worry; the Tranquil has a meaning for each and every creature on this world. Your time to shine will come, young master."
"Ok, were ready. Let's get a move on," shouted Abraham. The part trotted over to the Shadowhaven portal and vanished.
Marekk sat in his office. It was on the highest floor in the Wizard's Tower. In fact, he was the only resident of the magnificent architectural achievement. A large oak desk was before him, glistening after a recent dusting. It was covered in papers, ranging from letters to the scouts on Luclin to a list of sinners. He was a dark elf. He stood six feet tall, large for a Teir'dal. His hair was completely white, except for a small patch of black in the front. He had a white scepter in his hand. He wore his ceremonial scarlet robe. A gold trim covered the edges at his hood and his feet. An officer walked into the office.
"I said no interruptions! Can't you see I am busy here?" He stood up in disgust and reached for his bell to call the royal guards.
"Wait, sir, I have received word that Harlk has fallen in battle," the officer informed. His stood as straight as a tree trunk, trying not to look insubordinate in front of his commanding officer.
"Blast! Harlk was one of our best men. Who was he sent after?" the Supreme Justice grumbled.
"According to the records filed on August fourteenth, he was sent after a man by the name of Abraham Marrlan. His crimes were betrayal of a fellow man, and treason to the king. Last word we had heard from him was that he had scheduled a trip to Kunark."
"Well add on another crime to his list: killing of a Black Wizard. Do we know why he is on Kunark?" Marekk began to spin the scepter between his fingers.
"Not presently, sir. But we do know that after he killed Harlk, he met with two gnomes and ported to Luclin."
"Have we sent a judge to track him down?"
"No, sir. All of our judges are already overwhelmed with other business. We could send a bailiff with a jury support with him," the officer suggested. He had failed to mention that he was a judge. He did not feel like going on a mission. It had been only a day since he left his apprenticeship and became a full-fledged judge.
"What is your name, rank and proficiency, officer?" the Supreme Justice asked.
The officer hesitated, but he knew the rules and that he must replied to any question asked by a commanding officer. He sighed and said, "I am Edwin, a judge of the Black Wizards. My mastery of magic is conjuration and deception."
Marekk gleamed in delight. "Well, I don't see any problem in sending you to decide this Abraham's fate, do you?"
Edwin looked at the floor and sighed, "No, I don't either, sir."
"Good! Then it's settled. You will leave for Luclin tomorrow. I will set an appointment for your teleportation with Deedra. I wish you good luck. May the Tribunal stand by your judgment."
Edwin saluted the Supreme Justice and walked out of the room. The two large doors slammed shut behind him. He looked from left to right to see if anyone was around, and began to fit. "Only yesterday had I become a judge and now I already have my first mission! Why me, lords? Why me?" He almost turned around to kick the door in disgust when he came to his sense. He chastised himself for almost making an outburst. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a copper piece. The stairway was long and winding, and he decided it'd be much easier to float down. He threw the copper piece in the air. It shifted and spread out like a pancake. He stepped onto the levitation device and waited. It slowly dropped to the bottom floor. He looked around the tower. He had seen it almost a hundred times before: winding stairway, stained-glass windows meticulously placed every time the walked reached a cardinal direction, torches placed at every intermediate direction. The steps were made of stone from a nearby quarry in High Keep. Again, much time and effort was made in the creation of the staircase. Each stone was six inches high, one foot wide, and two feet long. He remembered counting them on his frequent trips to the Justice's office. There were exactly four hundred and twenty-five thousand steps made. He made it to the ground and walked through the door.
Suddenly, a woman ran up to him. "Help! Help! We're under attack!"
