PCs:Arania Moonshadow AlastaireAlaster/Shadows Fall Over Ferrell

Part of the series on PCs Terms of Use Editing Help PCs:Template PCs:Style Listings Elysia PCs M'Chek PCs Kurathene PCs T'Nanshi PCs Visimontium PCs Related subjects Player's_Playground Guilds The Team Epic articles

Contents:

Prologue
Canto I: The History of the Rifts
Intermezzo I : Introduction of the Four
Canto II: The First Seal
Intermezzo II: Yal’Drea
Canto III: The Return of Se’Fassu
Intermezzo III: The Gathering Of Forces
Canto IV: The Final Closure
Epilogue

SHADOWS FALL OVER FERRELL

by Arania Moonshadow A.-A.

---

Prologue:

In the dark depths of Ferrellian nights
through campfire’s flickering yellowish lights
Stories are told of the Rift Cave beyond
and the malingering evil it spawned.
Crouched on log benches, the tales commence
in whispering voices and glances intense.
In the Southlands a half-hidden cave lies therein
near the woods of T’Nanshi it borders within
It is here that the story does truly begin.

Canto I: The History of The Rifts

Millennia before the Ferrell we know
The land of the hin that fair Berryn bestow’d
Dwarven miners worked in its green rolling hills
As Berryn’s father Gorethar wills.
They erected a temple to Gorethar there
And built a great obelisk and an altar for prayer.
The miners made the temple their base
And the wonderous land, now Ferrell, they embraced
And their god and their temple they’d never debase

Til one day they breached a natural cave
And out of it poured the stench of the grave.
The temple and grounds soon were rife with undead
And the temple became a battlefield instead.
A few short years after, the miners dispersed
The entire length of the caverns traversed
by hordes of undead from an unholy site
Their presence akin to the worst of the Spite.
Within twenty years they would no longer fight.

The dwarves left then, certain naught could be cured
How much time passed, we shall never be sure
The temple was desecrated all and throughout
Few dared venture within or ever came out
Abandoned, it sat like a fruit to be plucked
‘til the fissure cracked in its bowels opened up.
Caused by Se’Fassu, a master vampire
The Shadow Rift fueled his power and desire
Centuries passed as he ruled and conspired.

The land turned a leaf, went from Gorethar to Berryn
The Hin settled in and the country was repairing
The cave seemed forgotten, its denizens silent
But ‘twas only a calm ‘fore the undead grew violent
The creatures were leaking out, citizens raided
causing much havoc wherever they invaded.
The people of Ferrell grew tired of attack
And called for a way to protect and push back.
A ward was placed, and a door, and a plaque.

As to how this ward was built and conceived
‘twas a secret group’s effort if history’s believed
This union of souls, this Brotherhood of wills
swore to guard the Rift Temple from all sorts of ills.
Formed all up of those serving Gorethar true
And others, White Mages, who hoped they’d renew
The temple inside from the depths of despair.
To this purpose they ventured inside, and prepared,
and warded the obelisk, its goodness repaired.

The obelisk drew from the opposite plane
Than the one the undead had used to sustain.
Forthwith, the Brotherhood turned their intent
To another sure way to control and augment
and guarantee those trapped inside would stay caught.
From the coldest of iron, a strong door was wrought
Interweaved all about with magicks galore
the Temple was sealed, and placed by the door
was a placard, its words-- Do Not Enter! – implored.

The Brotherhood withdrew, its task at an end
and the green Ferrell lands began slowly to mend
and its peoples at last all felt safe in their beds.
The door there assured that no evil would spread.
From afar the Brotherhood continued to guard
and shouldered that task for generations, barred
every attempt by undead to escape from their cage.
They guarded the door and its seal, they gauged
And noted with pleasure evil’s impotent rage.

A thousand years passed, give or take but a few
Complacency crept like a bandit into
the Brotherhood, who aged and passed on their trust
down from one to another, each tried to adjust.
But little seemed dangerous out past the door
Since the wards, no attacks, twas all like before.
But all was not as those above had perceived.
Whilst sealed below, evil plots were conceived.
What Se’Fassu was scheming, Se’Fassu achieved.

The grand warding pillar, good Gorethar’s pride
whose usage had been to keep evil defied
finally succumbed to Se’Fassu’s endeavors.
With help of the Rift, its goodness he severed.
He perverted its nature and destroyed its wards
and slowly to evil, he drew it toward.
But no one knew anything up above Ferrell
That none of them realized, came at their peril.
Of dark days to follow, this was but a herald.

Though a plaque had been placed to stay clear of the Rift
some read and remembered, but others were miffed.
Enough time had passed, lessons were not recalled
had been quiet so long that the Rift Caves enthralled
countless young men with a lust for adventure
who entered the caves, they all dared to venture
to work their way past the wards placed there forever
or to bust down the door, if they weren’t all that clever.
Their hopes were for battle or plunder, whichever.

The wards on the door were ignored or destroyed
though told time and again, ‘twas a place to avoid
as was their sworn task the Brotherhood watched
and took note of the warnings that many had botched
Those who’d wanted battle soon got their desire
as a very great many got caught in crossfire
Unwittingly, bumbling adventurers had aided
Se’Fassu, by opening what had been blockaded
so he and all of his minions invaded.

The Gorethites too, had watched for some years
and had noted the obelisk with a growing fear
It glowed red with evil, ‘twas covered in runes
they needed a moment or more, opportune
So Tyrius Rune and his Gorethite kin
formed a plan to enter the Rifts and begin
to ward the great obelisk in the bowels of the cave.
To force all the wandering undead to behave
and to send what they could of them back to the grave.

Intermezzo I: Introduction of the Four

It is at this juncture we take a small pause
and dwell now upon those who furthered the cause
and what came to pass for them to arrive
at the point where they figured out how to derive
the spells and rites needed to seal the breach.
Of the obelisk, warding it seemed within reach.
Four stalwart men were charged with the deed
to restore the old shrine, force the dead to recede
break the foul bond, and with faith intercede.

Tyrius Rune was the first of the four
A Gorethite battle mage on a quest for
a shielding aura, if he could combine
The strengths of all magics arcane and divine.
Learned from his master, this secret revealed
gave Tyrius hope, his resolve, it was steeled.
He was tasked with locating the best of the best
three others to give of the skills they possessed
to sacrifice everything if e’re they be pressed.

Celedor Dedwend, a cleric of power lent his natural strength to the need of the hour
Next came Quintillion, researcher of rites
He stood for the common man and farmer’s plights
Gianan Nefzen was the last to be called
to vanquish undead was what held him enthralled.
Then Tyrius joined with the three, all were blessed
he accompanied them with intent to assess
how to seal the Rift and to solve this great quest.

Canto II: The First Seal

The first seal! -- we come to the place in our story
Where Gorethar’s men called for purpose and glory
To Tyrius Rune, they put this endeavor
Devise a solution! Seal the Rift Caves forever!
So Tyrius retreated back into research
and holed himself up near to Noristie’s perch
he studied for months and months more with his teacher
who knew all about how to make Sealing features
for in Deglos he’d helped to contain the Pit creature.

Now Noristie owned a great magical forge
which Tyrius wanted to use to engorge
his runestones with both sorts of magical power
Arcane and divine, with soul’s strength empower.
He needed to gather the proper components
and knew in so doing he’d face sundry opponents.
The months he did spend at the study were essential
The way he envisioned the stones had potential.
His faith in his mission became reverential.

Rune came to believe that the power he needed
would be found through faith, and so he proceeded
A power source, positive energy and prayers
To strengthen the runes, not get caught unawares.
So he drew on divine magic, evil to smite
And he drew on arcane to shape, and ignite.
That magic gave purpose to that of divine
With connection between them, he knew they’d combine.
‘Twas time now, he knew, to visit the shrine.

The Order of Gorethar organized a mission
to inspect the obelisks and gauge their condition
they travelled down deep, found the obelisks glowing
the once holy seal was with evil a-growing
the altars were feeding the obelisks, fuel
meant to rip the rift open with wicked renewal
The Order now knew they would have to dispatch
the altars and obelisk’s power to catch
and bind to this plane, so samples they snatched.

Convinced of their skill, no more stones left unturned
armed with the knowledge that they all had earned
Rune met again with Gianan, formed a plan
He drew to him Celedor, the trio was manned
When last came Quintillion they became a quartet.
With Jarius and Jwol beside them, the mission was set.
The sextet then travelled to Deglos once more
they were told to obtain blood of the Pit Lord
fought, but were lost til Gorethar sent a savior.

Ingredients gathered, they bent to the job
of creating four stones that would yoke the macabre
Each of them poured in their very life essence
it could not be taken without acquiescence.
The sound of the magical forge rang out clearer
The runestones were forged, their goal edged much nearer
with the aid of Noristie, the mage’s mentor
the stones were then named for each one of the four.
and as all were quite weary, left for home to restore.

A week later they gathered at the time they’d selected
the four men stood silent, and paused, and reflected.
They knew that the stones they had made should be true
and harbor only the power to focus onto
the obelisk, the altars, Se’Fassu’s own shield,
and wrap ‘round his shadows and force them to yield
without spreading through Ferrell, the power constrained.
They needed some way for the stones to be trained
‘Twas the way to ensure a successful campaign.

They used what they’d taken and honed the stone’s power
after many month’s efforts their stones were empower’d
Clandestine, the comp’ny arrived at the shrine
that housed many dwellers both dark and malign
The Order of Gorethar, sisters and brothers
with Tyrius Rune and a number of others.
They aimed every effort to ending the scourge.
Their hope -- the undead would never emerge
Their goal – that the evil prevailing be purged.

They carried the runestones down into the Rift
they travelled the causeways, and felt the air shift
as though all the denizens knew they drew near
they bore their great burden, they would persevere.
Tyrius, Celedor, Gianan, Quintillion
took stones and stepped to the obelisk’s pavillion
‘twas a throng of undead, there could be no disruption.
Steel and spell ‘gainst unholy corruption
The company’s task, to forestall interruption.

As the quartet prepared to perform the great Sealing
they held forth the runestones, incanting and kneeling
When swarms of undead imperiled the mission
so Sir Grano sprung right down into the fissure
Imagine the shock and the horror they felt
down in the depths where the worst creatures dwelt
As Grano fought darkness, implored all to leave him!
the Rite must go on! – there was no time to grieve him!
Every soul there swore they’d go back to retrieve him.

The seal it was done, the cave started shaking
those who’d come down barely escaped the quaking.
Sir Grano’s brave action did not go unheeded
‘twas not long ‘fore Gorethar’s men had proceeded
to plan an excursion into the deep cave
this party’s ambition, Sir Grano they’d save.
They stepped ‘cross the Rift to the Shadowy Plane
Fought fiends in the scores ‘fore Sir Grano, bloodstained,
was found to be living, his senses regained.

They left the Rift complex, a satisfied crew
the job it was done as they’d set out to do.
The runestones were set, all violently glowing
with vibrant pulsations, their goodness bestowing
what power they held to maintaining a seal
upon the Rift proper and end the ordeal.
Assuredly while they’d desired to close
the shadowy Rift, they’d its evil enclosed,
though not quite complete it would do, they supposed.

Intermezzo II: Yal’Drea

How long did this Seal last? -- years upon more
it was understood then that no one would explore
down deep in the Rifts where the undead were sealed
yet after some time that intent lost appeal
and time, as it’s wont to do, clouded the past
memories faded, expectations surpassed.
The Gorethites tried their best to deter
the daring adventurers, entrepreneurs
that braved the Rift complex, ‘lest something should stir.

Once more incursions were frequent, none set
any store in the plaque or the door, and no threat
could be levyed upon those with nothing to fear
‘twas a matter of time til the dead reappeared.
The fateful meet happened one day ‘tween some mages
who came face to face with the brutal rampages
of a powerful vampiress by the name of Yal’Drea.
She left them near dead, she had words to convey
Swore that woe would befall if they dared disobey.

The message was simple, its meaning unclouded
no more would pass through, the undead kept enshrouded
beneath their temple rift, ne’er to be provoked
or retribution would follow, the peace there revoked.
Her master would rule all of Ferrell, she sneered
if the message she carried should fall on deaf ears.
When her threat became known it seemed steps were then taken
to shut the Rifts up and claim they’d been mistaken.
For a time, things were calm, and no dead were awakened.

Canto III: The Return of Se’Fassu

Years passed, plague was stirring across all the land.
To stem it, Camb Roe’Que appointed a band
of adventurers, known to the locals as FEAT
to explore the Rift Caverns in hopes to complete
further research in energies to locate a cure
though such hopes turned out to be a bit premature.
The caverns weren’t placid, FEAT was overcome
by a foul beast called Xanthion who refused to succumb.
FEAT retreated and met with a celestial from above.

Ariullus by name, the being offered a dare
and a great set of armor, one FEATer to wear
in return the brave soul would meet Xanthion square
to the death, face to face, in close bloody warfare.
Caliph donned the armor and stepped to the fore
A vicious-fought battle, Xanthion dead in the gore.
With the celestial’s help FEAT put down their foes
but they heard these foul words with the last of the blows
”Thanks be from Se’Fassu, for of Xanthion you disposed.”

This warning caused FEAT’s blood to freeze in their veins
but months passed, fields blossomed, winds waving vervain
Twas quiet ‘til one day some souls pierced the cave
in search of components, a substance quite craved.
‘Twas one time too many, as they soon discovered
they ran toward the Port when they finally recovered.
Men like Igor, and Owen, and Garek, and Mitrik
took their steel to the Southlands, waded into the thick
of the battle, determined they’d end the rout quick.

The odor of burning flesh streamed ‘cross the grass
flaming armies of skeletons marched on en masse
Rhiss and all that were present faced squarely the threat
swords whirled and bows twanged in a death-minuet.
The Rift ghouls and skeletons, flaming undead
fell to blow after blow but still swarmed overhead
The Battle of the Southlands raged onward for days
through fatigue, warriors fought with the woods all ablaze
‘til the last crushing blows seemed to stop the malaise.

All Ferrell fell quiet, but ‘twas not to last
a mere fortnight after, an army was massed
along the division where Roseberry Wood
met the entrance to Meygle, and there FEAT withstood
another attack by the vamps and their general
an as-yet-unknown leader, launching out several
groups of winged halflings we soon learned were Blighters
demonic undead that were consummate fighters.
Hours-long battle ended, coming day blocked the nighters.

It was quickly decided to strengthen the runes
a trip to the temple planned that afternoon
to stop the attacks on Ferrellian soil
to smite the undead, help their bonds to uncoil.
FEAT was joined by Lafreth, the Ivory Archmage.
Two days passed below in ceaseless engage.
They reached the grim obelisk, prayers underwent
Toran granted Caliph power to circumvent
For the moment the rift fell to silence, content.

In the interim FEAT joined with Gorethar’s men
Se’Fassu’s dark reign both determined to end
when a note came to FEAT, sent from Landolin, mage
of a rite that would seal the Rift shut and wage
holy war on the vampires and ghouls in his care.
When the next wave of death came out of midair
some demonic Blighters attacked the Port, sped
on leathery wings, small bodies contorted
Attacked lightning fast, were not easily thwarted.

When the next attack came ‘twas no time to prepare
the vamps snatched a halfling girl in Owen’s care
from out of the Port Hole, Arania’s room
Laurelin was her name, and her plight would consume
all the members of FEAT, and they gathered that day
sped to the Rifts to rescue her straightaway.
Found a note banning FEAT from the Rifts, interceded
Should the choice to ignore its demands go unheeded
Laurelin would be turned, all of Ferrell depleted.

The note had been left by a being named Lar’Keston
Se’Fassu’s aide and his general, in whom he vested
but FEAT, with due diligence, furtively planned
to don five suits of magic and a rescue began.
The rescue was thwarted, the clothes they were cursed
on the surface the vampires massed, interspersed
but the members of FEAT held them fast and fought hard
with the whirling halberds of Rhiss as point guard
Joren and Del, Igor, Thror, were the Ferrelian vanguard.

Poor Laurelin, still in Se’Fassu’s grim clutches
they knew Se’Fassu tainted what e’er he touch’es
Her uncertain safety Owen could no longer withstand
with Arania he entered the Rift caves unplanned.
The pair moved through labyrinths of caves in the dark
to a temple, its walls glowing red, and a mark
‘cross the floor --‘twas a pentagram graded in stone
in this foreboding room was Se’Fassu enthroned?
Owen gripped his sword fast as he clenched his jawbone.

Shadows flowed fast away and a vampire appeared
Laurelin tucked in his arms, she cried out as he sneered.
As ordained Raney snatched the young girl, and departed
whilst Owen, unshaken, faced the vamp down and started
to ask ‘twas Se’Fassu? – nay, was Lar’Keston, in place of.
The pair glared, their challenges etched on their faces,
‘til Owen turned to join Raney, his words left unsaid.
But once out in the sun, the girl shied from its spread
Owen raged, and avowed he would have the vamp’s head.

In due course the girl told all of FEAT a grim story
from the Shadow Lands Se’Fassu was massing an army
a force that he christened the Shadow Vanguard
formed of Ferrell’s own corpses with dark disregard
but Se’Fassu was trapped, the Rift bound him below
he desired to rise! -- and his shackles forgo.
To this end he raised mummies that cast a foul spell
that blocked out the sun, might without parallel
though Rhiss and Owen did fight, this they could not dispel.

Intermezzo III: The Gathering Of Forces

So Se’Fassu was risen, his spell woven true
language brimming with power, his mission renewed
he’d managed to cut himself free of the Rift
quit himself from his bounds, and his vengeance was swift.
Sent a prominent force against those at the Port
Lar’Keston its leader, all there swore they would thwart
all the mummies, the Blighters, the dracoliches too
Raged ‘til deep in the night, held the Port, and came through.
FEAT and other brave souls bid that force their adieu.

‘Twas not long before work on the Rite showed some motion
sprung from those who’d shown Ferrell their truest devotion
‘twixt attacks from the Vanguard, more of good Ferrell lost
brought all closer to closing the Rift – but what cost!
Some were tasked to go gather the needed components
some fresh from the ground, some from motley opponents.
With supplies the 4A met, in light ‘twere concealed
to forge enough Helms for the Rite-worker’s shield.
The rules of the Rite were now finally revealed.

Four teams made of four were the heart of the Rite
each team had their own part of the fire to ignite
Four Tessarchs of each order of mages, one each
An Ebony, an Ivory, a Blue and a Green.
A Trilan to secure the group with goodly devotion
Another to bind to earth, yet another to focus.
Trust was given to Owen of FEAT to convene
a Ferrell Defense Force that came to eighteen.
He called Gorethites and FEATers, the crème de la crème.

Canto IV: The Final Closure

With the Rite now complete, the Force drawn, time at hand
many brave men of Ferrell developed a plan
a first force would go, clear Vanguard from the Rifts
for the Rite, and those working it, it would lessen the risk.
To these men and these women the task was extreme
their prowess was great, and their sacrifice supreme
They went in and came out and their task they completed
the forces of Vanguards severely depleted.
And Se’Fassu? -- It was time for the Rite to unseat him.

The Forces all gathered on the lawn at day’s break
to begin what each one had sworn to undertake
Landolin of the White apprised all on the mission,
and passed out their helms and then cautioned suspicion
for each of the Blighters and Vanguard would strive
to ensure that not one of them would e’er survive.
All present prayed for care and for skill and success
then marched to the Rift Caves to finish their quest.
Camb Roe’Que, as Lorewarden, trailed after the rest.

The first forces in had accomplished their goal
for they found the place quiet; ‘twas nary a soul
Through the murk of the hallways and scent of the tomb
with utmost precision they moved through the gloom.
‘Cept for shushes of footfalls, the silence was sweeping
what Se’Fassu had sowed, ‘twas now ripe for the reaping.
The Dark One’s foul plans for a desolate Ferrell
malignant with Blighters, its crops and lands sterile
Twas foolish persistence -- he pressed at his peril.

They’d not traveled too far ‘fore the team ran afoul
of a beetle the likes they’d ne’er seen then or now
Petite in its shape, kaleidoscopic in shade
‘Twere but insects! No danger! But ‘twas a masquerade!
For as mages began to cast spells through the murk
and the team brought to bear every skill thought to work.
They soon found they barred magics, divine and arcane!
so the company were forced to depend on mundane
ways, near crippled the party before they were slain.

After slaying the beetles the silence was utter
‘cept the rasping of breath or a low cursing mutter
At length they arrived at some bridges, a span
so they pressed ever forward, their weapons in hand.
With the first steps they took their whole world erupted
hellballs a’flaming from traps they’d disrupted
On the high whistling bridge, o’er winds howling blast
they put out the flames and reorganized fast
as they healed the wounded and moved on, aghast.

From that moment on ‘til the final assault
there was no chance to rest from the constant onslaught.
No chance to recoup ‘fore the waves started roaring
more beetles, and ghosts, then the Blighters came pouring
out from the corners and down from the ceiling
‘til one fatal wave sent the combatants reeling
When the clamor, the blood and the smoke had subsided
Camb Roe’Que’s lifeless form was laid out where he’d died and
his body was carried while onwards they strided.

They forged, ever lower, through vapors a’churning
with hopes, never distant, of somehow returning
to Ferrell, with news of their joyous success
and the land would know peace once again, Berryn bless!
When out from the dark rose Lar’Keston, commanding
his forces to rise and then threatened, grandstanding,
”You’ll not escape alive lest you turn tail and run!”
swearing all that had been done, would now be undone.
Owen stepped up to face him. The standoff begun.

The rasp of his sword rang out harsh in the hush
as he drew out a line in the stone with no rush.
A challenge for ‘Keston, who chose his next action
and engaged in the battle, the demand, satisfaction.
With one final stroke, the vamp’s head flew up offward
Owen’s promise to Laurelin, finally honored.
The company pressed on, its purpose intact
with attention unwavering from its foresworn pact
and the head of Lar’Keston, stuffed in a sack.

There was little time left so the troupe cleared the way
to the smallest of rooms, smelled the scent of decay
Once arrived they made ready, raised Camb, and prepared
whilst the Lorewarden peered out the door, ever ‘ware.
He espied the Vanguard rising up from the Rift
to the Shadow plane, marching en masse, cold and swift.
He then raised the alarm, urged his comrades across
and give Se’Fassu no quarter, no matter the cost!
Should their concentration falter, then all would be lost.

At the Rift’s bottommost, the defenders stood steady
Ringed the portal on causeways, their blades at the ready.
The Quadrates and Trilans began chanting the Rite
when the Vanguard attacked and through blastings of light
and the rumblings of ground from foundation to roof
and the clashing of swords, rang the pure simple truth
that the Rite fractured bonds of the dark and profane
It was done! Victory won! Yet a figure remained.
but who it was yet, they could not ascertain.

When the smoke finally cleared from the sealed Rift’s debris,
‘twas Se’Fassu who stood ‘fore the massed comp’ny
Swore to have his revenge and they’d rue that they meddled
and then turned on his heel, disappeared, the mists settled
the mage Karrek had vanished; was he taken, corrupted?
Was he Se’Fassu’s lone prisoner? But then chaos erupted
in the beating of Blighter wings fast through the air
’twas no time for the band to mull on the affair
as the gore-thick of battle brought the stuff of nightmare.

They pushed fast towards the surface as before them all fell
beetles, vamps, and the Blighters, to sword and to spell
Til they broke through the entrance into dawn’s early glow
and collapsed in the grass, shaking, shivering, though
as they slowly dispersed and went back to their lives
one among them was weakened, and did not survive.
Camb Roe’Que gave his money to FEAT, his last dictum
and succumbed everlasting, for the trip it had sickn’d him.
It was clear the Lorewarden was Se’Fassu’s last victim.

Epilogue:

In the dark depths of Ferrellian nights
through campfire’s flickering yellowish lights
The tale was just told of the Rift Cave beyond
and all the malingering evil it spawned.
Now it’s been told – yes, the tale’s complete
as the Shadow Plane’s closed and the lands are replete.
In the Southlands that half-hidden cave lies therein
near the woods of T’Nanshi it borders wherein
It is there that this story doth come to its end.