Once Upon a Time in Ar, Part Five

“He be an Aran wizard, fer sure.” The voice sounded muffled at first, and thick like a peasant’s. A dull ache throbbed in Dardaniel’s cranium while his senses slowly returned. He tried opening his mouth and felt the painful grip of an iron muzzle holding shut his jaws. Someone had gone a long way to ensure he could not speak. Lying face down against a filthy stone floor, his hands bound behind his back, he twisted his neck to see around him. He lay at the bottom of a pit, under a feeble light filtering in through iron bars at the top.

“Bah,” spat a darker voice. “He’s more trouble than he’s worth. Wouldn’t be the first time that the hag of Wyvern County sends her slayers into Foresthome to snatch a hostage. And you can be sure they’ll kill every one of us. Better we do in this aristocratic wretch now. The world is better off without his kind.”

“Aye, but we needs gold,” answered the first voice. “I showed his ring to ole’ Philomar. It be from no local Wyvernian house he said, but one from Archon, an’ a rich one too. The old goat probably don’t know he be here, so I be thinkin’ her slayer will stay put, an’ then we can collec’ a fat ransom.”

However careful his movement, Dardaniel could not prevent his iron mask from rubbing against the rough stone floor. Fifteen feet above him, the conversation ended, and the silhouette of a head appeared above the iron bars. “Heh, he be awake now. Ye stay nice an’ quiet, wizard, if ye know what’s best fer ye,” the guard said in a gravelly voice, before vanishing. The sound of footsteps and a heavy door slamming shut informed him that perhaps he was now alone.

Dardaniel sat up as best he could. He had no idea how long he’d been in this oubliette, or where in the blazes this prison lay. Hours went by, perhaps days. His rusty manacles were murder on his wrists. Someone showed up and tossed scraps from a meal that landed in a murky puddle. Torn by the pangs of hunger, Dardaniel crawled to the sordid pile and attempted to gnaw at the pungent remains. His muzzle made the affair nearly impossible, and he only managed to slurp in some of the puddle while the guard snickered above.

His face smudged with greasy muck, the wizard gave up on the odious endeavor and lay on his side. A fat rat trotted out of the dark, sniffed at the helpless intruder, and decided the leftovers were easier pickings. . . for now. Time went by until a breath of air disturbed his dreams of freedom. Keeko had landed on the floor next to his face, and was peering at him with its two big round eyes, while ethereal wings on its back faded from sight. The prosapian examined the iron mask for an instant, climbed on its side, and tugged on a latch pin with its two small hands. Its effort paid off when the metallic piece fell out and rang on the stone floor. The muzzle clicked open and Dardaniel shook it off with relief. He could utter little more than a pitiful gurgle, so dry his mouth had become.

Despite his weakness, the wizard sat up as Keeko observed the manacles’ sturdy rivets. It then approached the pile of refuse, seized a rancid piece of fat, and proceeded to rub it against Dardaniel’s wrists. Clever little beastie, the wizard thought, increasingly hopeful. He joined his fingers as tightly as he could and pulled hard. The pain was excruciating. He thought for a moment he’d broken a few bones when his knuckles finally slipped free of his iron bonds. It helped that he was slim of build.

“Thank you my little friend,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, looking up at the top of the pit. Keeko deployed his wings and flew up to the grate, grabbed a metal bar, and crawled out. Dizzy with fatigue and lack of food, Dardaniel checked his pockets. Alas, someone had emptied them already. He then thought of uncast spells still lingering in his mind, and realized he’d have to take a chance. “Look out,” he cautioned Keeko before he uttered his magic. A loud knock flung the grate open, after which the prosapian reappeared at the pit’s edge, a quizzical expression on its furry face.

“I know, I know,” admitted Dardaniel at the unspoken question. “I didn’t memorize the fly spell. Hate the very thing, I do.” Annoyed, the wizard wondered how he’d climb out of the oubliette. The stonework was rough enough, but he lacked the skill that could help him up the somewhat wet incline, as the pit’s bottom was wider than its opening. Slight grunts sounded until Keeko dropped a rope inside. Despite his weakness, the wizard climbed out and sat on the edge to catch his breath and look around.

A small brazier glowed in a corner, revealing a torture chamber, with racks of wicked tools and a number of doors on all sides. The ceiling above the pit held a pulley and a rope with one end secured to the edge of a heavy wooden table fitted with manacles. None of the wizard’s equipment lay in sight. Annoyed, Dardaniel stood and picked up a nearby lantern, which he managed to light up with a hot poker. He then investigated doors featuring small barred openings. Each revealed an empty cell with shackles, save for one that held a sorry-looking fellow. He raised his head when called out, and despite the prisoner’s hirsute and haggard appearance, Dardaniel recognized someone he’d once known in Sundsvall.

“By the Wands! Aren’t you Syphonean, her Imperial Majesty’s head-butler? What on the Immortals’ green Mystara are you doing here?”

The old man shrugged. “Heh, not as much as I’d wish.”

Assaulting and incarcerating a high-born palace courtier such as himself was bad enough, Dardaniel thought, but a figure from the imperial circles? Outrage suddenly gave him renewed vigor. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Syphonean raised his shackles, resigned to his fate.

After grabbing a set of hefty pliers from a tool rack, Dardaniel returned, cast off the bar holding the door, sheared the shackles’ chains, and helped the old man out.

“Come, let us find a way out of this hideous place,” Dardaniel said. Keeko landed on his shoulder, earning a feeble smile from the wobbly butler while they approached the last door. “Couldn’t you have used your magic to escape these ruffians, I wonder?”

“They caught me after I’d barely escaped from my tower. I’d spent much of my magic in the process and lost my spellbook. I’d thought the depths of Foresthome provided a good hiding place. I was wrong.”

Puzzled, Dardaniel stopped and gazed at the old man. “Escaped from your own tower? From whom?”

Syphonean seemed to bear a sudden burden. “It is a long story. Perhaps it is best you do not associate with me, for I have become a pariah in the empire, and a target of the highest authority in the whole of Alphatia.”

“Who? Zandor?” Dardaniel pressed on, stunned and increasingly dismayed.

“Yes, the emperor himself. I am a marked man, doomed to face oblivion, the memory of my forebears forever erased from imperial records.”

“Oh, that wretch! I despised that slithering viper the moment I laid eyes upon him. That treacherous scamp. What a villainous scoundrel he is. If his mother were around. . .”

“Alas, she isn’t,” said the old man. “He made sure of it, and I was there to witness it.”

Dardaniel opened his mouth, but remained speechless while myriad questions jostled in his mind. It was a crushing revelation. At once, the wizard understood why Zandor wanted Syphonean dead, along with anyone associated with him, abductors and rescuers alike. Murder among Alphatians was still a capital crime, no matter who committed it, and Zandor wanted all evidence obliterated.

To be continued. . .

Click on the Short Stories label below to display all the short stories.

Once Upon a Time in Ar, Part Four

The looming beast looked like a cross between a shaggy rug and an oversized goblin fitted with large lynx-like ears. Dardaniel could not repress a faint squeal when the creature hunched down to gaze at him. Its ears homing in on the slight sound made their tawny tufts flop forward. With its large bulging eyes, the beast exuded a somewhat-endearing appearance were it not for its terrible fangs. That impression ended at once when it roared.

“Now, now, let’s not get carried away with the random-forest-critter-meets-unsuspecting-hero routine, shall we?” said Dardaniel as calmly as he could. “Surely we can find a way to get along. Let me guess: you are a sasquatch, aren’t you?”

The beast raised a bristly eyebrow, frowned, and roared louder. As it raised its clawed hand, the wizard reacted with greater speed, pointed a finger at the hairy face, and cast a few sharp words. Strands of sticky webbing shot forth and wrapped themselves around the beast’s head like a mad smothering turban, muffling the victim’s bellows and interfering with its sight.

As the brute clawed at the webs, the wizard took a few steps back. “I do beg your pardon,” he said. “I should have known better—the puppy eyes, the large ears, the big fangs, and all. You are a bugbear, yes indeed. Didn’t mean to offend.”

The monster tripped and fell on the jumble of tree roots while struggling to rip off the blinding strands. Judging a retreat more prudent, Dardaniel spun round and buried his face in what seemed like a wall of fur.

“Oh bugger,” he uttered, looking up at another beast that had sneaked up from behind. It grabbed him by the back of his robe and yanked him off his feet. As he prepared to speak another spell, the bugbear slapped him across the face, causing Dardaniel to swing wildly, his feet kicking helplessly. Another spell attempt resulted in a backslap with similar effects.

Once Upon a Time in Ar, Part Three

A soft rap at the door pulled Dardaniel from fitful slumber. Malvolian stuck his head in and gazed at the wizard. “We’ve arrived, Master,” he said in a muted voice. His angular, bluish face seemed as if it had been carved with a hatchet, with prominent cheekbones and an upturned, claw-like chin. He bore the large pointed ears of djinni-kind and iridescent eyes that gave them a strange, inscrutable expression.

Dardaniel stirred under a pale ray of light filtering through his bedchamber’s window. He grunted, got up, and shuffled groggily toward the light. A sea of dark green treetops lay below the Silver Cloud, as far as the eye could see, partially masked by dawn’s lingering mist.

Elbowing his way in, Feyward approached, holding a steaming bowl. “You might need this, Master,” he said with a grin revealing large gray teeth. “Just got it from the galley.” As fat and jovial as Malvolian was wiry and gloomy, Feyward owned small, porcine eyes almost invisible behind drooping eyelids, and a large, hooked nose. A long, black goatee snaked from his chin, reaching almost to his bulging belly.

Once Upon a Time in Ar, Part Two

Dardaniel marched down to the cavernous chamber housing the Haakens’ skyships, and lingered at the entrance. Immense white marble columns and stained glass windows stretched to lofty heights where pointed arches formed an elegant vault. Under the glimmer of pale golden globes levitating in the vast dimness, the main horizontal boom, to which the Prince of Ar was tethered, extended above the azure-hued, mirror-like floor. The heavy galleon, Widdemar’s black and red flagship, floated in its moorings thirty feet from the floor, slowly swaying from an unseen and unfelt breeze. Well above its main mast, smaller booms held two smaller vessels. One was Feldorian’s tiny racing yacht, the Archonian Shadow, famous from the time Dardaniel’s father competed in flying regattas. The other was the Silver Cloud, a mid-size skyship the remainder of the family used for errands simple magic could not satisfy.

Dardaniel observed his valets, Malvolian and Feyward, glide effortlessly up a staircase spiraling between two slender pillars. Queasiness gripped him as they raced to the top and proceeded across the Silver Cloud’s narrow boarding plank. His legs felt like cotton, and merely gazing at the vault high above the skyships made Dardaniel’s discomfort grow even worse. Unlike his forebears, the wizard suffered from fear of heights, a calamity he’d never revealed to anyone. The nephew of an Air Admiral? The son of an illustrious daredevil? Alas, even his mother’s djinni blood failed him miserably. Dardaniel was convinced it was Ethrenielle’s doing, for he believed she’d secretly inflicted upon him a curse which could not be dispelled and grew worse with time. He loathed flying.

Once Upon a Time In Ar

Ethereal eddies spun slowly in the crucible, casting purple glimmers while golden bubbles emerged, bulged, and popped softly into miniature ghosts. Dardaniel, a young man in appearance despite his advanced age, straightened his aching spine before leaning against the back of the tall chair surmounted with the household’s crescent arms. He drew in a long breath and resumed his work. Small circular motions of his index finger kept a silver spoon stirring the crucible as he muttered an interminable ritual. The imp-like face engraved on its handle twitched and wrinkled its nose at tiny specters coiling around it.

Reduced to stumps draped with molten red wax, candles in a tall candelabra threatened to extinguish their feeble, trembling flames. Their sallow gleams revealed books and ghoulish artefacts crammed on shelves behind the wizard. This had once been his grandfather’s study, now mostly overlooked by the rest of family. It was why Dardaniel chose this small chamber to conduct his arcane labor. Somewhat claustrophobic, it still smelled of old varnish, leather, dust, and other less mundane things. He hadn’t seen Lord Widdemar for years. The head of the House of Haaken lived on the manor’s top floor, a recluse who no longer spoke with his son, Felldorian. Everyone knew he was still among the living as his aerial servants continued to come and go, picking up meals and occasional mail, or delivering signed edicts to rule his domain and his aging progeny as he’d done for nearly a century. The servants were bound to silence. When questioned about their master, they responded with quizzical wind-like sighs before flying up through the service shafts.

Nothing surprised Dardaniel these days. It didn’t help that a monstrous war raged between his beloved Alphatia and faraway Thyatis, no doubt orchestrated by the immortals. He’d received news that Empress Eriadna had been killed when a magical storm laid waste to Sundsvall and the imperial palace. Or had she? As a loyalist and a fervent supporter of the empress, he found this hard to believe. He didn’t want to believe it. Something made him think that she’d survived somehow, for she was a mighty sorceress, perhaps the mightiest of them all. Her son, Zandor, the rightful heir, promptly seized the throne in the wake of the tragedy. It was no one’s surprise that he’d proclaimed her death with neither hesitation nor a shadow of proof, for Eriadna’s remains were never found. Thoughts, fleeting hopes, and somber concerns jostled through Dardaniel’s mind, challenging his concentration. He repeated a crucial verse of his spell and grimly stirred the crucible’s purple eddies, staring into them as if they would yield a hidden clue.

Bumblebee Part IV

This section is Part IV of Flight of the Bumblebee, originally run at the Lucca Games 2013 convention. It provides a summary of game statistics and other handouts. Click here for Part III, Shadowfall Manor. Give the players the pre-generated character sheets and the Bumblebee map and key, and start having fun, already!

H.H.M.S. Bumblebee

The Bumblebee is a skyship bearing three sets of masts standing in a star-shaped configuration (60 degrees from each other—three masts upright, three on the lower starboard side, and three on the lower port side), for a total of 9 masts, plus one bowsprit. The three lower starboard and lower port masts can be accessed through hatches. An enchantment on the ship's decks enable artificial gravity on the horizontal plane. A sphere extends just outside the edges of the masts which provides life support for high-altitude flights or travel through space. The hull and the ship’s main structure radiate levitation enchantment providing basic lift, which can be controlled by the helmsman. Actual maneuvering comes from a separate device inside the skyship (lower deck area 1), also controlled by the helmsman. The Bumblebee has five decks:

• Quarterdeck
• Upper Deck (incl. the forecastle and the stern deck)
• Main Deck
• Lower Deck
• Ship’s Hold

H.H.M.S. Bumblebee: AC7, HP120, MV 120’/round or 72 miles/day, #AT see below. Due to crew limitations only two main deck weapons can be used simultaneously, or three ballistae; boltmen are not trained on these weapons. Crew: 1 captain, 10 boltmen, 20 sailors. Special Abilities: can sail at double speed for one game turn, once per day. Armament:

• 6 ballistae: AC4, HP9, #AT 1/2, Dmg 1d10+6, Range 100’/200’/300’
• 4 light catapult (2 each, starboard & port): AC6, HP18, #AT 1/5, Dmg 1d8+8, Range 200’/250’/300’ min 150’
• 1 heavy catapult (aft): AC8, HP 27, #AT 1/6, Dmg 1d10+10, Range 250’/325’/400’ min 175’

The Bumblebee Map Key

Shadowfall Manor

This adventure is Part III of Flight of the Bumblebee, originally run at the Lucca Games 2013 convention. Click here for Part II, Windstone Tower.  Give the players the handouts showing outside views of the manor, and read them the text printed in brown.

From the Outside: Shadowfall is of a square design, 50’x50’ at the base, with a tower dominating its northeastern corner. A six-foot-tall outside wall featuring an ornate wrought-iron gate encloses the domain. On the house’s north side lies a small cemetery. The surrounding yard looks somewhat neglected, with weeds overgrowing what once was an elegant garden with topiaries and flowerbeds. A small statue smudged with bird droppings stands in a pool now filled with dead leaves. A gravel path leads from the gate to a set of double doors in the manor’s southeastern corner; a wooden awning keeps in the shadows an open gallery just above. A terrace on the third floor partially surrounds the tower. Judging from the windows, the gray and black, Gothic-style manor stands six levels high, including a peaked roof on the tower. All windows are heavily barred. Heavy in the day’s gloom, clouds run steadily to the south, chased by the hills’ cold bluster. A murder of crows caw in the distance.

The manor’s walls are built mostly of stone, while floors and roofs are made of wood. A chimney conduit near the N-E. corner leads from the ground floor to the tower’s roof. A creature the size of a cat could get through this opening. Unless listed otherwise, window panes are colored and hard to see through from the outside. Windows can be opened from the inside. Most rooms have one or more windows. For simplicity, they will not be mentioned in the individual room descriptions that follow, unless players ask about them. Levitating incorporeal spheres provide a faint and sallow lighting in windowless rooms. There are no mirrors in the house. Secret doors reset themselves within a few rounds of being opened. A bell from a grandfather clock somewhere in the manor tolls every hour.

Windstone Tower

This adventure is Part II of Flight of the Bumblebee, originally run at the Lucca Games 2013 convention

Map Key: Windstone Tower sits on a small cloudstone island, at about 10,000 feet altitude above the town of Ailpon in Floating Ar. Clouds mask the island’s approach and give the site a forlorn appearance. A large boom and gangway extending from the island’s rocky base provide mooring to visiting skyships. Based on the position of windows, the blue-gray tower stands five levels high (including an open-air level on top), about 50’ in diameter. All windows are heavily barred.

The tower is made of levitating cloudstone. Unless indicated otherwise, incorporeal spheres provide lighting in all rooms. Secret doors reset themselves within a few rounds. All "pie-shaped" chambers larger than 10’x10’ (except for the Main Hall) have one window centered on their outside walls. Glass panes are colored and hard to see though from the outside. Windows can be opened from the inside. If the party circles around the tower, they will find a dead Heldannic Knight lying on the rock. His armor and helmet are slightly crumpled, and blood has poured from his nose and ears. Closer examination should reveal his cranium was badly fractured (he was a victim of the trap in Area 9).

Flight of the Bumblebee

Bruce Heard—Lucca Game Fair 2013, Part One of Four.

H.H.M.S. Bumblebee is the party’s skyship, a vessel recently purchased by King Qissling of Floating Ar for his air fleet. Pre-generated characters are randomly distributed to the players, along with player handouts depicting the skyship’s deck plan and key. Player characters should be top-ranking officers: Captain, First Mate, Master, Captain-at-Arms, Master Artificer, Master of Engines, etc. Include the Purser in the initial party to make sure a character with thieving ability is available. Additional NPCs can replace eliminated PCs. The adventure is intended for a party of 5-7 adventurers, levels 7-9.

Plot Setup

To the players: You are skyship officers in Floating Ar’s air fleet, currently assigned to the H.H.M.S. Bumblebee. Your standing orders are to patrol the skies of Floating Ar for smugglers and other intruders, and actively pursue them. Your vessel is presently moored in Skyreach, awaiting resupply.

To the Captain and First Mate: You have been invited to a reception at Prince Qirklin’s residence. You know he was an illustrious peer of yours from your time at the Skyship Academy, so you do trust him. While you attended the reception, the prince spoke to you privately, asking for a favor, one with a good reward for all among the crew and officers of the Bumblebee. He requested your ship quietly make for the floating isle of Windstone, just a few hours away. Your secret mission is to secure its owner, Belsaphet the Sage, as well as a magical mortar carved out of malachite and a large silver flagon full of a refined oil bearing strange properties. All must be brought to Skyreach as soon as possible as treachery may be in the works. The sage’s research is critical to the kingdom’s security. Should the sage meet an untimely end, his complete remains must be brought back as well so he may be revived to continue his work. The mission is secret but should not interfere with the Bumblebee’s current standing orders.

Plot Overview

Prologue: By the time the party reaches Windstone Tower, the Heldannic warbird Talons of Faith hides in a bank of clouds, waiting fort the Bumblebee’s crew to explore the tower. The knights will ambush the party’s ship when she attempts to set sail from the tower.

Windstone Tower: Heldannic Knights already stole the malachite mortar and decapitated Belsaphet. The oil is still hidden in secret vault with a few other valuables, which the party may, or may not discover at this time. If questioned, the sage’s raven companion, Nevermore, will reveal clues about who committed the crimes: Craak! Men on a big eagle in the clouds killed Master. Took Master’s head. . . took Master’s head. It agrees to join the party—useful since it can talk to other birds in the area which will help the party track the escaped skyship (there are plenty of other ravens, hawks, seagulls, and geese to be found if one looks for the knights). If the game bogs down, Nevermore can help get the party going in the right direction.

Ambush: Soon after the Bumblebee’s departure from Windstone Tower or as the crew attempts to set sail, the Talons of Faith ambushes the party. After a short aerial battle, the knights board the Bumblebee and fight to the death. The knights will try to make a run below deck. While some stay behind to block access to the companionways, the others seek to destroy the Bumblebee’s steering mechanism, after which they will look for the silver flagon in the captain’s quarters. If the party gains the upper hand during the battle, the knights’ commander retreats to his quarters and sends a message to the Heldannic Order’s high priest. When the party finds him, he burns his magical communication scroll, seizes his sword, and fights his ultimate fight.

Ar: Walking with the Wraiths

Continued from “Ar: Figment of the Wyvern’s Mind”

In the wake of the Twin Peaks Campaign, Ar annexed this stretch of land, but left borders open to merchants and bankers to help alleviate bad feelings among Amburian neighbors. Many among Amburian nobility and the military still consider what is now Ar’s Wraith District as rightfully theirs, having led their army to wrest this land from a rabble of ungrateful renegades. In view of their fiscal advantages, bankers and merchants have gradually forgotten the divisive issue and shared in the wealth from Ailpon. Once a fishing village, it grew as the result of the nearby cloudstone mine and became a boomtown, complete with a sprawling seedy quarter, daily tavern brawls among free miners and sailors, and restricted areas reserved for wealthy upstarts or the military. Amburian nobles now see these investors as greedy turncoats, adding fuel to their discontent.

Lower Wraith District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

To make matters worse, a strange and intimidating race of people moved into the area and made the district a haven for their kind. They are the ones who gave the district its name, and the real reason why this piece of land was separated from Wyvern. Aran Wraithlings are people who’d fallen victims to incorporeal undead but were returned to life. As a result of the magic used, their minds and bodies bear the stigmata of their ordeal. Their flesh is somewhat translucent, showing bones, muscles, sinew, and organs as shadows. Their facial traits, however diaphanous, remain gaunt and disturbingly morbid. With clothes and makeup, Wraithlings appear as normal people but, to put it simply, the similarity is skin-deep. Since their arrival, Wraithlings reproduced and formed a prominent caste of aristocrats. Their request to establish this land as their own district was quickly approved in Skyreach for two reasons. It was a good way to entice Wraithlings to leave other districts of Ar where they were often unwelcome. Another reason was to exploit the Wraithlings’ presence on the eastern shores of Crystal Lake as a deterrent for Amburian pretensions—another singularly unpopular decision across the border. The intimidation is purely psychological, based on common prejudice and irrational fears, because Wraithlings are neither monsters nor a threat to society. Their looks and the idea of what they once were is what causes most people to loathe them.

Ar: Figment of the Wyvern’s Mind

Continued from “Ar: Through the Vortex”

This region became a part of the Kingdom of Ar as the result of a conflict between Foresthome and Ambur. The stretch of land east of Crystal Lake was a marshy wilderness infested with stirges. It had become a hideout for runaway serfs and renegades of all sorts. They established an “underground” network to help others like themselves escape from the Kingdom of Ar through Ambur and then south into what was called the Twin Peaks Borderland. The Stargazers’ Realm feigned concern when Aran nobility complained, but in truth Amburians professed a deliberate indifference. Fugitive communities were doing well, settling the region and confining the stirge peril to the darkest woods. Amburian nobility and merchants eyed the Twin Peaks Borderland with mounting interest. Bowing to pressure, their king finally issued the Starpoint Edict, formally claiming these new lands. When they heard the news, settlers banded together and established a free and independent republic, sparking the Twin Peaks Campaign.

Lower Wyvern District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

What should have been an easy takeover for Ambur’s small but capable army turned sour when the republic’s beleaguered supporters offered their allegiance to Foresthome in exchange for protection. The Sylvan Realm agreed and sent troops. Although Foresthome wielded a much stronger force, it lacked the cohesion and focus needed to dislodge Amburian occupiers. The northerners’ commanding cadre of astrophysicists and engineers proved a match to their opponents’ wild and spirited élan. The three protagonists became mired in a costly, drawn-out conflict featuring countless sallies and counter-attacks.

Meanwhile, serfs in Ar got wind of the brave little republic’s advent, and became increasingly restless. After putting down several small peasant revolts, the Kingdom of Ar decided to intervene. The recent discovery of cloudstones across the lake helped fuel the bellicose resolution. In the name of “peace,” a large fleet of skyships flew in unexpectedly from Ceafem, the old capital, and in great fanfare ostensibly took Ambur’s side. They spearheaded a speedy aerial offensive, dropped troops behind enemy lines, and quickly routed the sylvan rabble. Along the way, Aran forces repatriated or summarily executed whomever they pleased, with a particular predilection for captured leaders of the offending republic. Throngs of refugees and shattered remnants of the republic’s fledgling volunteer army fled south into sasquatch tribal lands, while skyships rained fire and destruction upon them.

Ar: Through the Vortex

Continued from “Ar: In Search of the Sphinx”

This unique doughnut-shaped floating island is the last district to have been created in the Kingdom of Ar. A royal edict abruptly carved out a large area of open space and prime fishing waters once shared between Hippogriff, Griffon, Skybridge, and Wyvern Districts. Sour feelings remained ever since the partition, because viceroys weren’t consulted about the decision or even told of its rationale. Instead, a haze of secrecy surrounded the event, letting on solely that the new dominion was off limits to all but a select few in the Aran military. The new District of Vortex has no viceroy but a shadowy military governor. From neighboring floating islands and ships skirting the forbidden area’s borders, one can observe two floating islands and, fairly frequently, an enormous whirlwind spinning through the main island. The turbulence stretches from the lake’s surface to 13,200’ (4.400m) through the monolith’s midsection before blending with thick clouds above. At various times day and night, lightning bolts randomly discharge from Vortex Prime’s outer rim, adding intermittent rumbles to the tornado’s distant roar. The sight alone is enough to keep most visitors out. On certain days, freak storms develop on Crystal Lake, showering the shores with hail, miscellaneous debris, frosted fish, and occasional monster bits.

Vortex Military District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

The roots of the mysterious event go back to a skyship commander, one Captain Aerwatt, who was concerned with the clear and present threat of a possible new ogrish invasion. He’d always shared with his friends and peers his concerns about the lack of adequate fortifications along Ar’s southern border and troops to hold them. Tired of his commanders’ apathy, he came up with a radical approach that was guaranteed to earn King Qissling’s interest, and his eventual approval. A top graduate in air magistry and aspiring grand wizard, Aerwatt’s basic idea spun from proverbial “mopping up” efforts to rid the land of foes and other undesirable features littering battlefields in one fell stroke—or in his case, in a gigantic whoosh. He devised the construction of a ring-shaped monolith fitted with magical devices accelerating air within its midsection, angled in such a way to create suction beneath. If properly focused, the resulting whirlwind could sweep a mile-wide stretch clear of any marching army and, quite certainly, damage beyond recovery any siege equipment. The prospect of building a controllable tornado was so appealing to the king that the project got underway overnight. Captain Aerwatt was made governor and head of the project. That’s about it for good news. . .

. . . for bad news abounds.

Ar: In Search of the Sphinx

Continued from “Ar: Where Pegasus Roams”

This district of Ar occupies a very small corner of the kingdom, yet it has a unique and macabre function among nobility, warranting its existence as a separate entity. Well before Alphatians reached this region of Mystara, a war took place there, leaving behind countless burial mounds and, to this day, the errant souls of twisted beings. A clan of sphinxes came to the site in search of kin who’d died in the conflict, seeking to allow them proper funeral. Powerful in the arts of magic and clerical might, these creatures confronted throngs of lost souls, some in distress, many consumed with bitterness and anger at those still enjoying the fruits of life. To reach their fallen kin, sphinxes developed skills needed to put undead masses to peaceful rest. Since then, all but the swamps of the Fris River’s delta have been cleared of hauntings, at least most of them. Many of the sphinxes remained thereafter to keep watch on their burial grounds, thereby claiming this land as theirs. In their own language, they euphemistically named it: “Erset La Tari,” or Land of No Return.

Lower Sphinx District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

It was at about that time that Alphatians arrived in the region. With human population expanding, frictions between native sphinxes and settlers grew, in particular when burial grounds were at risk. Unlike many examples elsewhere in the world, a clash did not follow. Concerned with the notorious power of Alphatians, sphinx leaders accepted an offer to prevent conflict. The agreement enabled sphinxes to retain their hallowed lands and protect the dead as they had been doing for so long, all under the protection of the Kingdom of Ar and with formal recognition of their special status from the empire. Ar would also graciously provide food and supplies needed to support the sphinx community. In exchange, Alphatian ambassadors convinced sphinxes to extend their protection and guidance to deceased Aran highborn for agreeable fees, providing the leonine caretakers with a steady and significant income.

Three stretches of hallowed lands were thus sent aloft, which became Ar’s necropolis. Lowlands were revitalized and farmers moved in safely. Part of the local agriculture now serves to feed the sphinxes, most of whom reside above. Others continue to live freely in the deepest forests. The swamps remain off limits, still dangerous to the living. The village of Airy Diggs was founded as the district’s main skyport from which supplies are transported. Sailway Tower stands above a small seaport where occasional foreign traders may pick up or offload merchandise. The tower was erected with the additional duty to keep watch on the swamps and steer nearby vessels away from them. It isn’t rare when undead reefers ignite phantom fires to trick ships navigating at night, running them aground in the muddy quagmire. Tales of horror abound in the "Erset Lalartu ma Lalassu," otherwise known as the Land of Phantom and Spectre.

Ar: Where Pegasus Roams

Continued from “Ar: Into the Manticore’s Lair”

Pegasus is an unusual district of Ar. It became a center of philosophy regarding the universe and immortals not long after Alphatians settled the region. Pegasi frequently visited the woods that once covered the entire area, especially near certain ponds and streams which, after observation, proved magical. The latter radiated dweomers beyond common Aran enchantments, and did not flow from natural underground sources. The notion that immortals had created them became widely accepted, especially since monsters that otherwise populated the region never approached them. Word spread that this water had healing and soul-enhancing properties. As settlers took over the lowlands, many began abusing or capturing pegasi for profit, or fought for access to magical water. Some bottled the liquid and promptly set up shop, while shady individuals sold common water at outrageous prices to unsuspecting victims. This deplorable state of affairs ended when a floating island was sent aloft, taking with it all of the enchanted sources. The undesirables were evicted, and the lowland was revitalized to make up for large sections of soil taken from its surface. Since then, the floating island became a natural preserve for pegasi, and a carefully managed area dotted with shrines dedicated to immortals of Ar.

Lower Pegasus District -- Scale: 1 Hex = 8 Miles

Today, the lowland harbors about 40,000 people, or 97% of the district’s entire population. This quiet dominion features one village, Cloudport, and two towers on the border with the Stone Ridge Crags. Plains have largely been turned into farmland since the “reseeding” that followed the floating island’s departure.

 

Hills cover its entire surface, with a large mountain near its center. The original magical sources were incorporated to the new topography to enable as much privacy for visiting pegasi as possible. Access is restricted and requires approval of one of the clerical orders overseeing the island. Orders present on Pegasus Prime include Palartarkan, Ixion, Alphatia, Razud, Pharamond. . . and Nyx. In total, 1,147 people reside permanently on Upper Pegasus, most of them in the “lighthouse.” The latter is a fortress carved directly into the mountain. It harbors temples, quarters for visitors, military barracks, the viceroy’s palace, a skyport, and a large navigational beacon on the mountain’s peak. Although visitors can gain access to the lighthouse without too much clerical red tape, visits to the rest of the island are strictly controlled and require an escort.

Ar: Into the Manticore's Lair

Continued from “Ar: High Dive of the Hippogriff”
 
A unique district, Manticore owns no surface land—its floating island levitates entirely above the Sea of Zebulon, off the coast of Djinn. Just as unusual, its inhabitants aren’t remotely Alphatian. Well before the establishment of this curious dominion, three Ethengarian wizards, known as hakomons, approached the King of Ar, some time after the monarchy relocated to Skyreach. The encounter took place at a time when manticores terrorized the northern lands. In exchange for their services and fealty to the monarchy, these hakomons were charged with the difficult task of rounding up the beasts. Following their success, they became accepted in Aran high society, to a point. These enterprising mages became exceeding skillful tradesmen, using their exotic origins to initiate trade outside the traditional Alphatian spheres of interest, and acquiring goods desired by the local wizards. In time, they purchased a stockpile of Cloudstones and negotiated the creation the Island of Boreas, at the northern fringes of Ar. There, they built their capital city, and moved their captive manticores to networks of caves and dungeons opening on the island’s underside.

Sea of Zebulon/Lower Manticore -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

In the decades that followed, descendants of the hakomons’ servants began populating Boreas. Other fellow Ethengarians trickled in, usually from visiting tradeships. They helped settle this strange new land and give it a thoroughly foreign look. Manticenes, as they became known, have discarded their Ethengarian preference for felt yurts and nomadic lifestyle in favor of more refined Ochalean manners and architecture, which now prevail in the town. Although accepted as vassals of the Skyreach monarchy, citizens of Boreas do at times run into an invisible wall of unfortunate prejudice when dealing with high born Alphatians. A sort of distant politeness prevails in their relationship, which is perfectly fine since it works both ways. Manticenes neither care for nor concern themselves with what stiff-necked Alphatians think of them. They remain wholly content with their miniature realm, out there above the sea, of which they are rightfully quite proud.

Ar: High Dive of the Hippogriff

Continued from "Ar: Helion Rising."

This land was once a part of what later became the District of Griffon, just north along the banks of the Crystal Lake. During the troubled times that followed the end of the original royal dynasty, Alphatian aristocrats whose properties centered around Arreghi revolted. The conflict had more to do with control over the Cloudstone mine that lay between lands owned by the two factions. With the ascension of the House of Qimeth to the throne, the civil war came to an end, and the breakaway region became the District of Hippogriff.

Lower Hippogriff District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

The Cloudstone mine, although it presently lies within the District of Griffon, belonged to a large number of aristocrats hailing from both regions in roughly the same proportions. It is chiefly responsible for the creation of floating islands in both districts, and is now functioning at a reduced pace, since much of its deposit has been depleted. Worse, infiltration from the lake flooded parts of the giant excavation still bearing Cloudstones. Efforts are still being made to pump water out, shore up weakened shafts, and reinforce porous areas of seepage—a costly project as thankless and gargantuan as it is fraught with dangers. Rogue ogres were seen sabotaging reinforcements, presaging new troubles with the hated race.

Ar: Helion Rising

Continued from "Ar: From Heaven’s Crown to Eternity"

At the time of the Ceafem monarchy, thick woods covered the territory that would later become the District of Helion. With low population and no valuable mines, it failed to develop major towns. Over time, much of the forests were felled, and precious wood sold to neighboring urban centers, allowing the land to be farmed. After the House of Qimeth inherited the throne, local landowners joined the growing kingdom. After negotiation among Alphatian proprietors, which ended with a number of estates going up in smoke, one of them prevailed and stood as their viceroy on behalf of Skyreach.

Lower Helion District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

The district’s name came from fragments of a meteoroid that showered this small area. The celestial object’s trajectory had grazed the sun, which led Amburian astronomers to call it a "helion." Meteorites sank through the soft soil on impact, vegetation overgrowing the sites during the following decades. Since Alphatians colonized the region, a number of fragments have been retrieved and brought to laboratories. It was found that they bore unexpected properties, such as heat radiation. Sages assigned to studying these metalloid shards also discovered, much to their horror, that they also provoked physical mutations in living organisms exposed to their auras for long periods. At about that time, clerics became interested. They determined that the original meteoroid was connected with Ixion, an immortal associated with energy, fire, and the sun in particular. Powerful in the empire as a whole, his followers demanded the meteorites be remitted at once to the Temples of Ixion. After a nudge from Emperor Tylion IV and an agreement that all fragments must remain in Helion District, several new shrines were built to collect and house these metalloid shards. Since then, Helion became the center of Ixion’s philosophy in Ar, and an important one in the whole of the empire. The Grand Temple of Ixion stands in Sundsvall.

Ar: From Heaven's Crown to Eternity

Continued from "Harpily Ever After."

What later became the District of Heaven’s Crown had always been a quiet corner of Ar, tucked between Harpy, Griffon, and Ambur. It joined the kingdom later during its formative years, mostly as the result of pressure from the monarchy. An important Cloudstone deposit beneath the surface became the primary motivation for Alphatian settlers to accept royal infeodation, seeking protection and greater market access for their precious mineral.

Lower Heaven's Crown District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

A small town grew from the influx of miners and business-minded people, now known as Crowntrails-upon-Land. Floating islands soon came together, very high in the sky. Seven levitating mountains were sent aloft, with the one named Onyx bearing the viceroy’s capital. The islands were meant to follow a complex rotation pattern, but a miscalculation lead Onyx to fly out of control and capsize. A horrendous collision ensued, which destroyed Onyx and damaged nearby Amethyst, showering the land below with tons of debris. The rubble formed miles of tall hills west of Crowntrails-upon-Land. It is rumored that victims of the crash still haunt those rough and jagged formations, an eerie jumble of walls and domes torn apart, half-sunken monuments, and fragments of statues askew. Bits and pieces of the old capital still exist, trapped beneath the surface like upside-down dungeon-like pockets. The most striking thing is the profusion of bones strangely suspended in mid-air, petrified by Cloudstone dust. Most of the Cloudstones in Onyx were either destroyed, buried under rubble, or escaped through the skyshield. The dust from the collision and the ensuing crash covered much of Heaven’s Crown, and took months to settle.

Ar: Harpily Ever After

Continued from "Where Eagles Dare."

Wedged at the northeastern corner of Ar, Harpy became the last territory to join the kingdom. For the longest time, it had been the heart of a festering plague of harpies feasting upon all that strayed onto their hunting grounds. Yet, the wizardly world moved in, inexorably reducing the harpy horde to its smallest expression. Thoroughly enslaved, a small population survived in what became known as the Harpy District. Levitating monoliths soon coalesced into a large island in the sky.

Lower Harpy District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

Harpies were removed and secured in magically silenced prisons on Upper Harpy, where they could be better controlled. It became customary for manors scattered on the flat, grassy island to include prison wards for the purpose of providing magical components. Clerics of various benevolent faiths questioned this barbaric and amoral practice. Alphatian paradigms and wizardly justification failed to prevail. Clerics were therefore allowed an opportunity to help address the unharpy situation.

It was decided manor houses would build chapels where clerics could indoctrinate these rancorous demi-avians (the latter being well restrained and gagged) and sway them from their evil. This clerical effort pieced together a number of facts. Harpies are the reincarnations of beautiful but evil women’s spirits, which explains why there are no males. They lay eggs, but only when new spirits emerge from the world beyond. The young are typically sent away on their own as soon as they can fly, a matter of a few weeks. In their pursuit of harpiness, these wretches are meant to devour live creatures. Humans and demi-humans are preferred, not just for their taste but also because of their souls. During the slumber that follows hearty meals, harpies in their dream-forms take the lingering souls of sentient victims to their immortal patrons. With enough captive souls, especially good, lawful ones to be tormented in the pits of chaos, harpies may regain their former appearances (more or less), and become undead spirits under the control of their lieges. This explains the fierce competition among harpies and their jealousy of people. They resent better-looking prey or females in particular, whom they will try to disfigure during their savage attacks. Although they aren’t undead, harpies do not age after they reach adulthood.

Ar: Where Griffons Dare

Continued from "A Dream of Djinni."

Lower Griffon District -- Map Scale: 8 Miles per Hex

This grand old district lies at the heart of the kingdom, on the west bank of Crystal Lake.  It was the original seat of Aran monarchy, dating back to the time of the Archmage Ar himself, until this first dynasty ended for lack of an heir.  An unfortunate punitive foray into ogre lands resulted in the sole successor passing away.  The last words of Dalberron the Skald tell the story:

“Out of the mist, one fateful winter dawn, the devourers appeared.  Filled with hatred and feral bloodlust, the deathly tide swarmed the village.  Not a soul among town and gown, neither cattle nor poultry, dog, cat, wall, or barrel were spared.  The demons fled as fast as they’d come, leaving death and desolation in their wake.  Good Prince Teliddes on his heavenly warship raced by the plume of smoke rising high, and bravely gave chase.  Standing at the prow, he motioned the Nashi and the Ostro to join the hunt.

“Together with the Shamal, they tore apart the fleeing mob, piercing ogrish flesh with heavy javelins or riving their bodies asunder with sizzling bolts.  Many a wondrous rod was depleted and replaced as the merciless punishment was wreaked upon the demons.  Despite their losses, there was always one to turn and stare defiantly at the prince while its brood sank deeper into the woods.  The game went on until their leader, a horrid giant covered in blood and dangling upon its misshapen body the severed heads of once-fair maidens, stood its ground and challenged the prince.  It was then, when Aran justice at last was dispensed high from the Shamal’s deck, that the unthinkable happened.  A powerful device, hot with wokani magic, shot a mighty harpoon from the mouth of the demons’ hideout.  It was a trap.