Once upon a time a group of heroes stood outside the smoldering remains of a town recently under fire… and also ON fire. After questioning the local populace, the ones still alive, it was explained that many of the locals went crazy and began to set fire to the whole town. No amount of pleading or restraint would calm these ravenous souls and, in the end, the only solution was to end the attackers permanently.
It was obvious that these poor people were spellbound and there was only one person crafty and sinister enough to brainwash a town of this size… Reed.
Furious at such a wanton disregard of innocent life, The Bard reached out with his mind to contact the cruel fiend. “You will return this instant! We are going to finish this NOW!”
Reed immediately responded but it was not the answer The Bard expected. The typical snide remarks were now replaced with frantic ones. “I will absolutely NOT be returning! After what’s coming? I got the first boat out of there!”
The Bard conveyed to the rest of the party that Reed was gone and, likely due to the retaliation he would face, the trickster was too afraid to return. The Bard was very formidable so this made sense to him, but the rest of of the party thought this was just one more strange occurrence in need of an answer. With that in mind, they set out to converse with the only real person of authority that they could reach on this island, the very first person they had met when they first came here months ago, the college ambassador Arcanist Stow.
As the party began its journey back to the main campus, each member could not help but feel a familiar wave of despair rising from within. They had hoped that they might escape the danger that swirled around them these many months, but, in the end, it seemed like even this island, filled with its many masters of magic, was susceptible to attack.
When they finally entered the main campus, they immediately found the familiar sight of Arcanist Stow right where they remembered him being on their very first visit. It was clear from the beginning that Stow appreciated his alone time with his many texts and scrolls, but that didn’t stop the party from sharing their hectic and tragic tale with him anyway. They talked of zombies and expeditions, dragons and mystery storms. While this was indeed troubling news, Stow had little time to show interest, much less intervene.
Arcanist Stow put up a single hand to silence the group. “Great heroes, you no doubt have witnessed many horrors, but I’m afraid the school has issues of its own. The College of War is even now preparing for a great army they say is building in the east. Who knows if this is true or when they might arrive but there remains few extra resources that haven’t been allocated to that front. And even if there were additional fighters we could call upon, we would no doubt send them to the north before looking into mystery fires. Our satellite campus there, the School of the Occult, has recently gone silent and we have not yet been able to establish the manpower needed to investigate. With much of the staff away on the expedition, some of us here fear the worst.”
The School of the Occult! The Bard, the metal man, and the warlock had all studied there these last few months. If their alma mater was in danger that would certainly need to be their highest priority. Thanking the Arcanist for his information, the party swore they would see to the school themselves.
As the group marched towards the school, the growing blizzard around them was barely noticed, for it was nothing compared to the icy dread they were feeling now. Another army was heading to the island? Had the undead reached these shores en masse already? The weather continued to worsen as they climbed the final hill blocking the school from sight. Once they cleared its peak the group could finally see the school in all its glory, or rather, they would have, except it was now encased in a mighty layer of ice and snow. In addition, a pack of frost giants patrolled the outer walls.
And, even worse, their great foe the white dragon lay sleeping in the center of the school courtyard.
The Bard looked at this grisly nightmare and searched desperately for any signs of life.
He found none.
There were many things that could be blamed for this new development. Perhaps the school consisted of a bunch of weaklings incapable of defending themselves? Perhaps this was the work of vaccinations? Perhaps the rest of the group should have let him fulfill his original plan in its entirety? The Bard was able to come up with 387 reasons why he was not responsible but he was still unable to shake the feeling that he could have done more to prevent this tragedy.
The rest of the group concurred and discussed every avenue that was available to them. But plan after plan was found wanting and, in the end, the group knew there was no winning a fight against a dragon and his minions when their only backup was miles away and unavailable.
Still, with the dragon here it meant the dragon wasn’t somewhere else. Specifically, deep in the mountains. There was a chance that without the dragon’s influence on the weather, the way north would be clear, or at least navigable. They had heard the great north held secrets of a lost valley sought by the expedition of arcanists, and this might be their best chance of following them. Perhaps they would even find a way to liberate the frozen school.
The group began their long trek through ice and wind, yet again. They climbed higher and traveled farther than they had ever gone before, and just as they thought they might reach the very end of the earth, they instead came upon a massive sphere of swirling snow, wider than they could see and so dense it could almost be considered a solid dome.
Mostly immune from severe cold, the metal man reached out a hand into the icy sphere, testing the weather beyond it. Then a soft “crunch” was heard as his appendage neatly fell off from the exposure of the extreme cold. The metal man looked at his jagged stump, very confused by its absence. “Hmm,” he rumbled, “it is very cold.” The monk was quick to offer his advice. “Guys, it’s just like going swimming in cold water, it’s worse if you just stick your toe in. You need to jump in and get it over with all at once, like this!” The monk had just begun to tense his legs for his great leap when the rest of the group tackled him to the ground.
They had once again reached a barrier, a literal one at that. This, like so many of their efforts, was met with failure and destruction. Cities had been destroyed, and now this island could very well be swarming with undead. The hag still had Mav’s daughter, Reed and Campolo were still alive and planning unknown schemes, and they’d made enemies of lifelong friends. Their one nemesis they managed to defeat, the Governor, had even come back from the dead! And time still ticked relentlessly towards the celestial alignment. To add insult to injury, a great dragon had taken up residence in the very place some had called home not days before.
Maybe the island would fall. Maybe the world was doomed. But if so, they could at least make a smug dragon pay for his crimes before the end. If he had taken their home, then they would take HIS home! They quickly agreed that the dragon’s lair was likely unguarded and began walking in that direction. Two could play the home-wrecking game…
Countdown to the end of the world: 5-5.5 days