Category: Conjunction of Planes

Dreams of Summer

Previously, the heroes had received a letter from lady Ulrikke, indicating that she was in Kingsport for the winter and was keen to reconnect. James also visited the Careless Wanderer to provide the heroes with Hamish’s body, some items her recovered from the skaven in the waterways, and he even gave his magical bag to the heroes on a loan. Neamhan visited Quentin in order to communicate with Róisín.

Ninth Day, First Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waxing)

Quentin and Neamhan came downstairs into the tavern and found that it was early enough for most fishermen to still be asleep. They found a table near one of the two hearths and put some logs on the smouldering embers that remained from the night before. Soon after Lauryn came stumbling down the stairs, not quite ready to take on the day. She went into the kitchen where Ramsey was kneading dough and baking loafs of bread in the large oven, and made herself a hot drink. She called it a hot, brown morning potion, and she offered some to Quentin and Neamhan, explaining that it was made from ground beans and hot water. Soon after trying that hot, brown morning potion, Ramsey came out of the kitchen with some food he had been working on. Rationing some of the ingredients in preparation for the winter, he had developed some round pastries made from dough, some topped with sugar, others had a jam filling. He was unsure what to call them; hole cakes, circle sweets or perhaps sugar wheels. It was a good start of the morning.

Ser Liam of the Cloakwoods, still injured from his confrontation with Dame Morena of Hittesleigh where he tried to keep Grimnir Bouldertoe from being taken by House Dunkeswell, briefly joined the heroes as Luca came downstairs and tried some of the sugar wheels. Neamhan, ever inquisitive, asked about the way in which a large city like Kingsport gets their food, claiming that her tribe could find everything it needed within an hour of their home. Ser Liam explained that the lands of Northshire were too coveted to support enough farmland to feed a city of Kingsport’s size. Instead, the region of Fairfields, in the east of Lyria, had very fertile lands that were worked by some of the most experienced farmers. The food produced there was transported by ship to feed all the major cities around the Lyrian gulf.

Luca looked a bit haggard, and when Astrid finally joined she also looked as if she had not had a good night’s sleep. Both had been afflicted by vivid dreams. Astrid had been walking the cliffs overlooking the Bay of Teeth close to Hammerstrand, enjoying the mild weather when suddenly an enormous glacier loomed over the horizon and ruthlessly pushed onto land, crushing everything in its way. The ice was dark and even darker shapes slithered inside of it. Astrid said she could not outrun the ice and ended up being crushed by it.

Luca dreamt of a warm, late summer evening inside a small church, where he had been reading through the modest collection of books the church had in its library. Warm light fell through the stained glass windows. In front of Luca lay a journal and he read the three short entries on the open pages;

Given the opportunity, the sisters will approach you in order to strike a bargain. You just have to will it to happen and they will reveal themselves.

I have seen them drink in the blood of the first born and stretch the skins of the virgins. I have seen them dance naked in the blood soaked soil at the base of the tree. I have seen their dark pendants soak up the sanguine life spilling from their mouths after they drank their fill. The glee. The glee!

[Poor handwriting] They have promised me a reward for my sacrifice. They have promised they will let me sleep a dreamless sleep again, and release the dead in our graveyard from their control, and they will let the villagers make their own choice in who they want to follow. They promise me that the pain will soon subside. I can still pray with one hand. I can still carry the Book of St. Catherine with me as I go and talk to the villagers. This time they will hear me and they might finally trust me, for I have sacrificed part of myself for them. Just like St. Catherine sacrificed herself for Ser William.

There were more entries, but these were the last three. Luca suddenly recognised the church he was in as the church of Paladine just outside of Blackbough. When he had been there the church had been abandoned and in ruin. He suddenly wondered whether what he was seeing was real or an elaborate illusion and quickly the truth came crashing into reality, revealing the broken church he remembered. It was dark outside and window was blowing through the broken windows, snow started falling through the broken roof.

Luca walked to the entrance and saw that necrophages were stalking through the snow-covered graveyard outside. He retreated back inside the church and suddenly heard a chattering. Snow start falling harder; thicker snowflakes quickly covering everything around. Long, wiry arms and hands gripped the doorframe of the broken front door, first one pair of hands, but more and more. The head that pulled itself through the door was that of Gryza, with her regal jawline, tight mouth and a veil of flesh covering her forehead and eyes. As she moved through the door the extra sets of hands fell down around her hips like a skirt of arms and hands.

Gryza, Sister of the Grove

As she advanced on Luca he tried to reason with her, asking why she had brought him to Blackbough. With the voice of her and her sisters she claimed she was there to retrieve that which did not belong to Luca. He responded that there was little for him to give, that most of him was already claimed by others. In response she snatched his scarab brooch from where it held his cloak in place and retreated by outside, walking in reverse. As she faded from sight, the necrophages rushed in and pounced on Luca, tearing him apart. With that sudden death he had sat upright in his bed, panting and sweating and his heart pounding.

Back at the breakfast table the conversation turned to times where things seemed simpler, when the heroes were getting paid good coin for their efforts by house Sheridan. Neamhan asked Astrid whether she missed home, to which Astrid responded that her goal was to gather enough coin for a ship. Neamhan asked her how much it would take, and Astrid confidently answered that it would take ten thousand gold crowns. Astrid said she missed her family and Neamhan asked Astrid to tell her something about them. Astrid did not know who was still left, but only knew that those that mattered the most were not there anymore.

When Neamhan asked whether Quentin missed his family and he responded that he did not. He felt no strong tie to his family, but he did feel as if there was someone he should miss, and once again he reached to one of the leather bracers around his wrist.

Luca shared that he came from a family of pig farmers, living in a hamlet in the Elder Foothills which was so small that it had no name. One of the things he was fond of was that his father used to make Applejack, a home-made liquor made from apples, like a light brandy. This caught Astrid’s attention; she loved fruit and explained that they had very little of it where she lived.

It was at that time that lieutenant William entered the Careless Wanderer, dressed in common clothing but still wearing his sword at his side. He was wearing a heavy, hooded cloak which was laden with snow. It hid his handsome features from the fishermen in the tavern, but they were too busy with their breakfast to look up from their plates to notice.

It was quickly decided that it would be best to talk to lieutenant William in Emrys’ room, which was the only room big enough to host them all. Emrys had not yet come downstairs and when everyone entered his room it became clear why; he too had been dealing with dreams which had frustrated his rest.

When the group had found some privacy in Emrys’ luxurious room, and Quentin had vouched for Neamhan’s discretion, William explained that queen Isabella had not been herself since her recovery from her illness. She had mood swings, was more forceful, ruthless and harsh. She had initiated the assembly of a royal army to send them to subjugate the rebel houses in Farcorner. She had also been ignoring the opinions of the Queen’s Council and demanding they raise taxes and had invited members of the houses on the Queen’s Council to become guests at court as wards, which was tantamount to being hostages to the throne.

Quentin managed to urge William on to share more. With great difficulty, he shared that the queen had dismissed all of her handmaidens – all except lady Annabella. He said that the queen was keeping all servants and guards at a distance, and yelling could be heard from the queen’s chamber at all hours of the day and night. Whenever the queen engaged with servants, including William, she was abusive, even going so far as lashing him herself.

The queen had commanded that some people were found; a Mazurian man by the name of Fedor, a Lyrian called Melchior, a dwarf named Dagnamiir, an elf named Lathorael, and someone named Lash. The heroes recognised them to be the the many names of Xamael the Defiler, an agent of the Dark Queen, Takhisis, who had  been responsible for the queen falling ill. None could imagine how the queen had found out who had been responsible for her malady.

Luca mentioned that it was likely the heroes would need to see the queen in the near future, and William explained that they might no longer be as welcome as they once may have been. “She’s not the person you met in the watergardens all those months ago.”

Lieutenant William of Eastwarren

When William was about to leave, after explaining how the heroes could get in touch with him, Neamhan noticed how handsome he was and she offered him a handful of berries. He was quite delighted by them and said that his parents used to grow gooseberries in the garden patch behind their hut in Eastwarren. When Neamhan called him a pretty human, he was caught off guard but thanked her for the compliment.

When the lieutenant had left Emrys asked whether it would be a good day to arrange for Hamish’s funeral, which everyone agreed with.

The Naming of Cats

Previously, the heroes spoke to Réonan at the Circle of Magi, while Quentin reconnected with cardinal Roark in order to return the Plumes of the Duskmaven, an important relic that was thought to be lost.

Eighth Day, First Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waxing)

The heroes had all returned to the Careless Wanderer for some much needed rest and downtime. While Emrys went to arrange drinks for the table he was handed a letter by Lauryn which had been delivered in their absence. The letter read:

To my fellow students,

It has been months since we exchanged notes in the library. I was ever so thankful for your help, and in return I did as you suggested and spoke to several people I thought could help with our work. I regret to say that it has not been met with a lot of enthusiasm. I really enjoyed our collaboration, but others did not share in our optimism. My quest continues, but I have had to change my approach, which means patience is necessary.

For the first time, I have joined my father in Kingsport for the winter. I have heard wonderful stories of how beautiful the city is during the Feast of the Moon and Midinváerne. During my stay, I would love to continue to collaborate with you and am looking forward to hearing what you have learned since we last saw one another.


The Margravine

When Emrys returned to the table that the heroes had claimed and shared the letter, everyone concluded that it was lady Ulrikke von Rosenberg, the Daerlan noble they had met at the library of the Bournemouth Academy that was the source of the letter. Neamhan once again was a bit at a loss and was struggling with the explanation of yet another acquaintance the heroes had established.

Lady Ulrikke was likely related to Count Ardel von Rosenberg, the Daerlan ambassador to Lyria. It was remarked that the Daerlan empire, despite their ongoing border skirmishes with Lyria in the north, were still afforded an embassy in Kingsport. This was underscored in light of the mission to petition the crown to allow for the establishment of a Beauclair embassy, which was the mission of the delegation to which Quentin’s father belonged, which was on its way to Kingsport.

When the heroes resumed their conversation on what to do next, it was quickly decided that Emma would be able to help them talk to Kasia, the Silesian girl who had witnessed and survived the appearance of Epidemius on Steward Square. The priestess would be able to keep the child from getting too worked up, and hopefully from reliving a lot of the painful memories. When Quentin suggested first waiting on Falka’s reply to see whether it even made sense to talk to Kasia, Luca got heated and angry. Luca’s stance was that, while unfortunate, Kasia’s well-being was of secondary importance to the safety of all of the people of Kingsport. At this, Neamhan called him heartless. Eventually, Lauryn tells Luca to keep his voice down, at which point the heroes drop the subject.


A decision was made to first visit Emma, then make for the Daerlan embassy, and perhaps swing by the Forgewright smithy to check on Astrid’s new weapon. Quentin decided to retire to his room with a plate of food, but before he did so, Neamhan asked him whether she could speak to Róisín in the morning. Quentin said he was looking forward.

When Quentin had departed, Astrid turned to Neamhan and asked her whether she had any children, to which she said that at the age of 374 she was much too young to have children. This lead to a conversation about the difference between age, maturity and age of procreation between humans and elves, and how it affected the way in which the two races acted and behaved.

During that conversation, Neamhan shared that the should of an elf gets reincarnated into a newborn after death. Astrid claimed that after death, people go to the great halls of the Æsir, like Valhalla, with it’s five-hundred doors. Luca refuted that, saying that souls go to the afterlife where they are judged and serve to bolster the armies of good and evil. The clash of cultures between Neamhan and Luca became apparent once again, with Neamhan standing fast against Luca’s repeated claims that it “simply did not work that way.” Despite his strong claims, he also did not offer any further explanations. Luckily, this time, the conversation stalled without Lauryn’s intervention.

Another thing that was revealed was that Luca turned 18 a couple of rides ago, something Emrys thought should have been marked by a celebration.

Astrid asked Neamhan whether the number of elves were dwindling because it took them so long to have children. Before Neamhan could answer, Luca interjected that he believed it was because fertility rates of humans was much higher, which lead to more half-elves being born than normal elves, leading to fewer and fewer true elves. Emrys offered that with elves taking several hundred years to mature to adulthood it meant that cataclysmic events had a much more severe impact on a generation’s ability to procreate. One war would have tremendous consequences, he argued, to which Neamhan retorted that humans cause wars, but it was clear to all others that Emrys was referring to a Conjunction of Planes.

It was Neamhan’s turn to ask a question and she turned to Emrys, wanting to know whether he considers himself an elf or a human. He said that he identified more as a human because he could never reconcile himself with the thoughts and beliefs of his rather dogmatic elven father. Neamhan asked whether Lauryn considered Emrys half-elf or half-human, and she felt it mattered through which lens the question was asked; from a human or human society’s point of view Emrys would be half-elf, while from an elf or elven society’s point of view he would be a half-human.

It was at that point that another half-elf entered the Careless Wanderer. James carelessly wandered in, wearing a heavy cloak to keep him warm. He was eating an apple and as he reached the table he handed the other half of the apple to Astrid without a glance. She took it and began devouring it.

James had come after getting the message from Goodman, and he agreed with the heroes that Goodman would be a good way to reach out to him. An alternative would be the butcher. He returned the earring he had still been wearing, which was the twin to the one that Luca had in his ear. He also offered his magical bag for the heroes to use. The bag held some of the items he had carried for the group, including the tablets that were recovered from the Newport vault as well as Hamish’s body.

James told the others that he and some members of the Steady Hand had searched the waterways for the skaven, and noticed that their activity had died down. He had also gone back to the scene of the battle between the skaven and the Steady Hand to retrieve some more evidence; a banner, which he hoped could be used to learn more about the skaven, a pouch filled with items that looked like they might be used by arcanists, as well as a letter that was written in a script that James believed Luca could read. The letter, which was written in the infernal script, read:

Your reports confirmed my initial assumption; the plague maidens were drawn towards the pestilent potential. This was, in part, due to Xamael’s interference into local politics, but there are indicators that one called the Upright Man has come into the possession of the Liber Bubonicus, the Book of Woe!

Find it while I continue to gather more resources to open another gate through the seal and resupply you with a tide to aid you in its retrieval. If an opportunity presents itself to retrieve it before the resupply, do not hesitate to act. Make sure to use the accompanying scrolls in order to contain it. Distribute them, and these instructions, among the other plague priests.

– Epidemius the Cataloguer, Lord of Decay, One of the Seven Proctors of Pestilence. Devoted Underling of Baalzebul the Calabite, Ruler of the Seventh, Lord of Maladomini

At the mention of the book being in the Upright Man’s possession, Luca asked whether Falka could be given access to the library in the vault, to which James said that it could be arranged, provided he was given some time to get settled in as the new night master, and given an opportunity to clear out the mess.

After a short conversation he agreed that he would have the body of the night master delivered to the House of the Raven Queen for funeral rites, and he also agreed that the vault to which he had access could be used to store the tablets. Neamhan, still with her mind on the age of humans and half-humans, was shocked to find that James was only 16 years old. On his way out he stopped to talk to Durham to buy a couple of bottles of booze.

The heroes retired, with Neamhan taking the room that James just had vacated. Astrid had been sleeping there in the interim, so she would catch a bunk in the common room, whenever it was that she was ready to go to bed, which judging by her eagerness to play another round of demon dice with some fishermen, wasn’t any time soon.

Ninth Day, First Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waxing)

As agreed, Neamhan came to Quentin’s room at the first sign of light over the horizon. Quentin was awake, since he retired early, and Neamhan relied on her elven heritage to not need more than a few hours of rest, and so, only shortly after the hour of the wolf, Neamhan knocked on Quentin’s door.

Quentin handed Neamhan his sword, sheathed in the everblooming scabbard. She unsheathed the blade and admired the decorative etchings along the steel, after which she performed a short ritual which ended with her casting her mistletoe talisman onto the blade. The thing Neamhan heard was the gentle sobbing of a woman somewhere in the distance, which was later joined by the voice of a man. The woman was gentle and sad, while the man was angry and bitter.

When Neamhan explained that Quentin wanted to know how Róisín was doing, she said, both voices speaking in unison, that she did not feel fully awake, that things were difficult for her to verbalise and that she had only just awoken, and that she had trouble remembering, feeling like she was running through water, like she was navigating through mist. One thing she was clear on; she did not want to be separated from Quentin.

Quentin, in the meantime, could only hear Neamhan’s side of the conversation, and needed Neamhan as the interlocutor. On the other side of the conversation, Róisín did not need Neamhan as she was attuned to Quentin and knew what he was saying. Quentin promised that he would not be separated from Róisín, and in turn, Neamhan promised to help him achieve that.

Quentin and Neamhan heard the light sound of small bells from up in the rafters of the room. Quentin knew it to be Wynn, which he shared with Neamhan, including that he was a mischievous fae that they had picked up in their travels. Neamhan tried to startle Wynn by casting a gust of bellowing wind among the beams of the ceiling, but he managed to get away, but not before reciting a curious poem about the naming of cats.


Letter from Margravine Ulrikke von Rosenberg

To my fellow students,

It has been months since we exchanged notes in the library. I was ever so thankful for your help, and in return I did as you suggested and spoke to several people I thought could help with our work. I regret to say that it has not been met with a lot of enthusiasm. I really enjoyed our collaboration, but others did not share in our optimism. My quest continues, but I have had to change my approach, which means patience is necessary.

For the first time, I have joined my father in Kingsport for the winter. I have heard wonderful stories of how beautiful the city is during the Feast of the Moon and Midinváerne. During my stay, I would love to continue to collaborate with you and am looking forward to hearing what you have learned since we last saw one another.


The Margravine

Recovering the Plumes of the Duskmaven

Previously, the heroes had visited and spoken to a lot of people in order to come to terms with the consequences of their defeat of Xarrombus, as well as prepare themselves for the road ahead and potentially deal with the threat that Epidemius posed.

Eighth Day, First Ride, Autumn Twilight, 1262

(Silvermoon is in high sanction, Bloodmoon is waning, Darkmoon is waxing)

It was nearing the evening when the heroes entered Olafur’s chamber, a small room with dark, wooden panelling on the wall, an elaborate rug on the floor, decorated with red and white details. In the back an oddly placed, red, velvet curtain covered parts of the wall as well as a suit of armour that seemed out of place in the room. There was a mahogany desk with a heavy chair with a large back rest. The desk had many small compartments and drawers and the top held many different writing implements.

The grizzled Miðgarðurian asked the heroes to wait as he went to see whether Réonan, the enigmatic grand archmage of the Circle of Mages, would see them. He had made the same inquiry for them in the past, but it never seemed to get easier for him. He returned, but this time the grand archmage was not with him. Instead, he invited the heroes to follow him deeper into the college.

At the end of the lobby stood an arched door that Olafur unlocked with a key from an impressive keychain. The door lead to a circular staircase winding up a tower. Along the wall there were paintings of mage alumni, tapestries depicting scenes of the arcane, and paintings of legendary figures. These figured were marked with unique symbols that some of the heroes recognised as identifying them as Senhadrim arcanists.

The top of the stairs gave way to a jetty corridor with windows overlooking the city. The heroes could not recall ever seeing a tower reaching this high above Ravensbourne, which, coupled with the impossibly long corridor of the student dormitory, told them the Circle was larger than the outside of the building lead to believe.

All along the jetty corridor there were items of interest; a marble statue of a robed person carrying a bird of prey, a suit of armour made for an exceptionally tall person, a regal display of arms, a midnight blue banner displaying an octagram connecting a constellation of eight stars, a large drum made from wood and hide, a large, ironbound chest, an enormous, ceramic pot with a small tree growing from it, and a series of two dozen kite shields with banners of various noble houses.

Olafur lead the hero down the jetty corridor to a doorway leading to the tower’s interior. This revealed an impressive room with more items on display. There was an incomplete skeleton of a large bird, hanging from the ceiling by near invisible wires, an grand triptych with strange, possibly fey iconography, and a pedestal with a large book, covered by a glass dome. These were but a small number of the object d’importance.

Olafur lead the heroes across the room to another arched doorway behind which stood a large statue of a hunting cat with the head of a woman standing in a circular, vaulted alcove. There were no other ways out of that room, and there was nowhere left to go, but Olafur patiently waited for the heroes to step into the circular room with him. He then turned his attention to the statue, addressed it as “Prayanti, Guardian of the Scarab Temple of the Great Sand See of Noth”, and beseeched it to grant access them access. The entire room then turned 180 degrees to reveal another part of the tower through the same entrance they entered the alcove.

The room was circular, with a deep, blue carpet on the ground. The ceiling was high and domed, with a beautiful painted depiction of the night’s sky, complete stars connected in constellations, colourful nebulae and the three moons. Neahman immediately recognised that the depiction of the sky was in accordance to the current location of the moons and stars.

The windows around the outside of the chamber were slender and tall, again showing Kingsport below. At the opposite side of the chamber were a set of steps leading to a raised section of the room lined with pillars behind which was a cordoned off personal library with a lectern carrying an open book facing away from the room. On the right stood a heavy desk, and on the left stood a comfortable looking seating arrangement with padded sofas surrounding a low table. Réonan was seated on one of the sofas, their long hair combed to silver sheen, their slender frame and milky skin covered by a set of flowing silk robes.

The heroes spoke with Réonan about Epidemius, which they suggested had a role in the Battle of Dunagore, a fierce battle between the Silver Crusade and fiendish forces which was often overlooked when compared to the much more significant Battle of Blue Harbour. When the Book of Woe came up, they said; “It’s not a book, it’s a weapon.” Réonan also suggested the heroes could look into using the Newport Vault to store and protect the Tablets of the Elemental Eye they had recovered so far.

Neamhan had kept a low profile during most of the conversation, but eventually Réonan turned their attention to her. With her already legendary directness, she asked how she could prove that her magic did not originate from the gods. After a few questions she revealed that an elder named Oisín had recently awoken from a long slumber and had captivated her tribe. Oisín claimed magic, including Neamhan’s, was granted by the gods, and that the gods deserved their devotion. Neamhan knew in her heart of hearts that this was not true, and felt that Oisín was taking advantage of her tribe. She needed to disprove his claims.

The conversation came to a dissatisfying ending. Emrys had a growing suspicion that while Réonan wanted to provide the answers to the questions the heroes were fielding, that they simply couldn’t, as if afflicted by a kind of amnesia that they were trying to hide from the heroes. The heroes had already stayed past the city’s curfew and had to depart in order to make it back to the Careless Wanderer without harassment from the crownsguard and red custodians.

While the heroes were visiting the Circle of Mages, one of them went his own way and visited the House of the Raven Queen instead. When Quentin arrived he found the holy place empty of visitors. A silent sister, with her face painted white like porcelain, lead Quentin to cardinal Roark when he asked to see the man who had initiated him into the Order of Grave Knights. The cardinal invited Quentin to come and talk with him in his private chamber, which to Quentin looked very similar to father Devon’s chambers; gloomy and spartan.

The two shared some pleasantries; the cardinal explained that some of the important rituals of the Raven Queen were moved to the dawn in order to accommodate the curfew on the city. But soon, Quentin explained that his involvement in the demise of Xarrombus had lead to many deaths throughout the city, for which he felt responsible. In defending the principles of the Raven Queen, by defeating something from beyond the threshold, he had caused so many casualties. Was it an unfair trade?

Cardinal Roark said that despite the outcome, his actions were guided by the Raven Queen with a purpose, which went contrary to his belief that he must be held accountable for his actions. The cardinal invited Quentin to deepen his understanding of the teachings of the Raven Queen. In return, Quentin revealed that he had brought the feathered cloak that he had found in the Newport Vault, to which the cardinal gasped;

“And so it was foretold that the One who would oppose the Necromancer would recover the Plumes of the Duskmaven.”

The cardinal was filled with rapture at the sight of the cloak and being gifted it by Quentin. When the cardinal showed the cloak to the Silent Sisters they all, collectively, started wailing, something they were said to have done at the appearance of Epidemius as well. Quentin left to head back to the Careless Wanderer

Dr. Arkenward’s Ménagerie


The heroes found their way into Dr. Arkenward’s laboratory where they found a gruesome ménagerie of creatures. Here are the doctor’s notes on them.



The lowest ranked of the lesser infernal outsiders, though it will claim it still outranks the Lemure. There is quite a bit of writing which has survived the Age of Fear on imps; impervious to fire and all poisons, and incredibly resistant against attacks from non-silver weapons. Like all infernal outsiders, very resistant against cold-based attacks.

Quite a significant number of them survived through the Great Waning as they got stuck on the material plane. Through my interrogations I have concluded that this imp is not old and wise enough to have survived on this side of the seal since the Age of Fear. It is possible that it managed to be sent through the seal due to its limited strength.

It claims its name is “Ludwig”, but that name has not granted me the control over the imp that I had expected and I have therefore concluded that the name is false.


The dretch is the first form that abyssal animus congeals into, and while it hardly poses more threat to a trained mage than a goblin or a vodnik, leave it for long enough and it will grow to evolve into a far more loathsome and powerful demon as its animus hardens and matures. Immune to poison, able to emit a noxious vapour and very resistant to elemental attacks, and it has a remarkable aptitude for telepathy. Unlike its more evolved brethren, it has a normal susceptibility to attacks with mundane weapons.

I pulled this one from an abandoned house just outside of Blue Harbour. There were several others but this is the only one that managed to survive long enough to heal from the burn wounds it sustained. The others dissolved into black slag. I would have been worried about someone noticing a pack of missing dretches and coming to look for them had they been infernals, but no such loyalty can be expected from the tanar’ri.

Through the “experiments” I conducted on the dretch I have learned that it calls itself “Grok”, it hails from Pazunia, where it was fighting alongside manes and rutterkins for a demon lord named Baltazo. It does not quite understand how it came to be in Blue Harbour, but from the bits I have been able to compile, it seems that Baltazo has been experimenting with sending over low ranking demons and psuedo-demons.


Vetch, as the skaven likes to call itself, is a sly one. It speaks the common tongue, albeit in a broken way. Duplicity, stealth and subterfuge seem to be its tools and trade. As a result, I’ve been having a very hard time getting information out of him that I can trust. I will have to independently verify each bit that Vetch shares.

It seems to have no great love for the rat ogre and considers its brutishness antithetical. It claims to be part of clan Eshin, which is a clan I’ve heard of, but not much is written about. I’ve got to be cautious with this one.

Vetch has shown some interest in my dissection of the tentacle-faced mind flayer and it has remarked that certain organs I’ve extracted can be used to create poisonous substances.

Rat Ogre

The skaven refer to this creature as a rat ogre, but it does not seem to have a particularly strong sense of self-awareness, beyond the primal rage what we see in some of the more monstrous humanoids. It does not have an ability to speak and does not seem to recognise words, names or a reference to it species.

My working theory is that the rat ogre is an engineered subspecies of the skaven, so for the purposes of categorisation I will consider it one of the servitor races.

Interestingly, not all of the skaven clans have turned to creating these abominations. There is a clan, clan Moulder, which specialises in creating not just these abominations, but others as well. The rat ogres are, however, the pinnacle of their achievement.


Smuggled to Kingsport from Farcorner, this khazra warrior is named Buras Blighthorn and he’s been given to me in order to interrogate him. The usual threats did not seem to appear effective, and applying force elicited a resigned response. To my surprise Buras was perfectly capable of speaking the common tongue and has turned out to be a rather pleasant conversationalist, intelligent and eloquent.

He’s explained to me many things, including his mission in Farcorner. I’ve reached a point with him that I think I’ll try a different approach and see if I can simply continue my conversations in order to understand the tensions and conflicts between the servitor races better, since there seems to be some animosity towards Enyalius from Buras and Vetch, and vice versa.

It has confirmed what the Circle already suspected, which is that the khazra hail from the Grey Waste of Hades.


What a strange creature the minotaur turns out to be. I have to be careful not to generalise, but from what I’ve learned by speaking to Enyalius, as it calls itself, is that it is a prideful and stoic creature whose only interest is duty. Not surprisingly, I have learned that its rank is that of “legionnaire”, a type of high ranking infantry and reports to Preclo, his “centurion.”

For all the effort I had to make in order to smuggle Enyalius out of the empire, he’s proven to be a bad source of information. It speaks both the abyssal and infernal tongue, but prefers infernal. This one will require more time.


Retrieved from among some of the most northern orc, demon worshipping tribes, we have a strange, transformed orc. Blessed, the shamans would say, with the strength of their demonic overlords. They call them “tanarukks”, which seems to be an abyssal bastardisation of the orc word for “fury.”

It is completely useless to me. I have had to keep it unfed in order to deplete it of its destructive tendencies. I know its highly resistant to fire and poison as well as most magics, but its too aggressive to learn anything from as it has no interest in negotiations.

I have one or two more experiments to run on it, and then Rogash, as it calls itself, is bound for the incinerator.


When it became clear to me that some of the threats moved around the ancient waterways I charged some colleagues to investigate the rumours. They found a fair many problematic elements in those tunnels, none were more baffling than these tentacle-faced humanoids. When I went down myself I was eventually confronted by this one. It was tough; taunting me throughout with telepathy and flaying my mind with strange attacks. The source of its “magic”, if I can call it that, was alien to me.

I have yet to be able to dedicate time to understanding the nature of this creature, and a cursory scan of Tobin’s Planar Guide has yielded little of use, except that it vaguely resembled the aberrant denizens of the far realm. If true, it is completely unclear to me whether there are more of them, what they are doing here, what their designs are, and whether they make the waterways their home.

My investigation must continue and I must come up with a proper defence against their psychic attacks. If this creature is an example of the time to come, then we must expand our arsenal of attacks and defences.