The Swordlands

An Urn of Questions

As the raging light from Requiem died, all that was left was Sigurd’s magelight spell to illuminate the room. Looking down at the fallen Warforged at his feet, Thunder felt a deep sense of sadness.

He was one of us once, he thought. Now he attacks, raging and confused. What if this is what has happened to all the Legion? What if I am the only one left?

He knelt and examined the form more closely. Now that it had stopped moving, Thunder was able to get a much better idea of what had happened to the General. He could see that in addition to his Ghulra being removed, many modifications had been made. The body had been augmented and corrupted, growing in size and strength but losing the fluid grace that made members of the Legion so human-like.

Sigurd and the others had also been examining the other items on the dais. They found a book of star-charts, detailing formations in both the real world and that of the Feywild. Inside this book was a collection of other pages showing examples of Ghulra. On some pages, the Ghulra were combined like a jigsaw, as if an attempt was being made to turn them into one form, but each attempt was incomplete.

Several other items were also located, including a human toe preserved and mounted on a chain, a whistle, a box of white powder (Sigurd thought this might be a component in creating more of the rat-creatures) and a large urn. Aengus and Sigurd both could sense powerful magic within the urn, and after a short discussion agreed to open it.

Aengus’ gasp of shock sent Thunder moving quickly over them. Mutely, Sigurd turned the urn so that he could see inside it. Collected inside were several hundred Ghulra, and Thunder could feel his comrades spirits looking down on him as he stared at it.

“You know what this means?” he asked, sifting through the small discs. “I’d estimate that there are nearly 500 Ghulra in here – that was the full membership of the Legion. I think I may be the only one left.”

A short while later Karl came over to Thunder where he knelt praying to Kord. “We’ve counted the Ghulra,” he said. “Four-hundred and ninety-seven. Including you and the Warforged that was destroyed at the mountain, there is still one missing. Unfortunately, unless you can remember the names of every member of the Legion, we’re not going to know who it is.”

Thunder searched through the pile, a query in his mind. Locating a partcular Ghulra, he held it up. “I am almost glad to see this here, even though it may mean we will face him in combat one day. This is the Ghulra of The Strength of Steel, the first and greatest member of the Legion. At least he is not the one that is missing. I hope to meet him again one day.”

As they had talked, Iben had been prowling the room looking for another exit. “All of you, look!” he exclaimed, suddenly. “The portal has changed – we can leave.”

Gathering around it and taking their new items with them, including the two bastard swords that General Requiem had been using, the group stepped through.



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