Adventure: The Last Command
Sessions: 2007-06-03, 2007-06-04
Player: Rachel
PC: Silverwind Siivrell
Status: Warblade 1/Wizard 5/Jade Phoenix Mage 6

A warforged sat on a stool in the corner of his room, seemingly relaxed, although his hand never strayed too far from his greataxe. He watched the tall illumian pace back and forth, tapping her sword nervously with her claws. She finally had a chance to tell him all the details, now that the threat of an imminent attack had been resolved.

“…it was the strangest thing I’d ever seen… I’ve never seen that moon before, and when the conjunction occurred—after the dragon flew from us, the strange moon collapsed, and a vast number of Siberys dragonshards rained down on us. Most of us had enough sense to leave, and Sovelom managed to avoid having them hit the air skiff. Tyrian remained to add to his wealth, and only managed to get back to Flamekeep by teleporting.

“But what we saw on the way back… we failed. The lava in the Glowing Chasm was boiling, and many of the denizens of Khyber escaped. Including one of the daelkyr.”

Watcher shook his head. “I was watching the Lord of Blades too closely.”

“It wasn’t anybody’s fault in particular. Except for Vol, curse her. I would have gone after that daelkyr then and there, had we not been so severely outnumbered and the threat of the Lord of Blades.”

“Oh, you wanted to go after them…” muttered Eiryavel.

“We made it back to Flamekeep, just in time to be observed by a massive crowd… I imagine you saw that.”

Watcher chuckled. “I did indeed. The trick the pilot pulled was good, but I am glad he did not swap places and leave me at the helm. The war weaver’s trick of turning everyone into gold dragons was quite interesting, although I suspect he was merely afraid of falling.”

“I expect so.”

“However, I was most impressed by your apparent mastery of cursing…”

“I don’t like showoffs.”

“…in at least five languages…”

“Enough with that. Aside from contacting the other Mages, making a few purchases, and eating dinner with you and Mike—”

“You mean, you were eating, and everyone else was watching you chew,” interrupted Eiryavel.

“It wasn’t that bad,” muttered Siivrell. “We had a strategic meeting after dinner with Sir Blaze, Jaela, Boranel and one of the cardinals, as well as a few others. We discussed deployment; they informed us that the Lord of Blades was definitely moving, and that he had seventy-five thousand troops following him, three times our number. The situation seemed somewhat grim; we expected an attack at Morningcrest, around dusk the following day.”

“We have faced worse odds.”

“But not by much. In any case, although I considered finding a quiet inn and paying extra to remain undisturbed for the night, I chose to accept one of the rooms offered to us. In retrospect, this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Now, that’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one,” grumbled Eiryavel. “You sleep like the dead, that’s for sure. Although, if you’d stayed up any longer pondering that dragonmark—”

“Dragonmark?” Watcher appeared startled. “You didn’t mention that.”

“It must’ve slipped my mind. I did mention that Vol cursed us?”


“This is what it is.” She held out her left arm and pulled back the sleeve, revealing the dragonmark of death on her left wrist.

Watcher examined it, then said, “The Mark of Death appears to violate all the laws I know regarding dragonmarks. All of you who were there were marked?”

“Yes, but I only learned about that in the morning. Even Sovalem, who had a mark already. But that night… as Eiryavel said, I did sleep like the dead, as did Nebu, Teferi and Ankya. We were killed in our sleep by an aberrant assassin, walking through the walls. Tyrian heard him, and the group managed to get together to defeat him. After they found our remains, they resurrected all of us, so that we could defend Thrane the next day. I owe them a debt, since being reincarnated as usual would have been inconvenient. I hope we repaid that debt to their satisfaction.

“As for the mark, I hope never to use mine. It seems a terrible power to have—to drain the strength of the dying. The powers of the others are different, though, and perhaps not so destructive. Although it is the Mark of Death.

“We took the skiff, and flew to Morningcrest. From there, we scouted out the army sent by the Lord of Blades, in four contingents. In the first we met, we caused a lot of mayhem.” Siivrell smiled slightly, and held the hilt of her sword. “The armies were mostly minimally experienced warforged; a few were capable of independent flight, and a few were of a size clearly intended for destroying city walls and wreaking havoc on a large scale. However, a few airships, perhaps twenty-five or so, accompanied this section. Coordinating, I quickly sliced through the hull of a ship, Sovelom found the chamber for the elemental shard. I broke the case; he spoke with the elemental, telling it to free its friends; I broke the shard. The elemental escaped, removing the propulsion from the vessel. Nebu cast fly on the first one, which succeeded in destroying a number of airships, while we similarly disabled a few more. Excluding the flying elemental; Nebu wished to preserve some of his spells for later.

“We met with less success against the second wing; they anticipated our strike. Tyrian was killed by a hail of arrows, the results of which Ankya survived only by sheer fury and a spell cast by Nebu. Mike had learned to take a step like dimension door; between him and Nebu they managed to recover Tyrian’s body without becoming pincushions themselves.”

“I’m just glad you were using me to whack another airship, and weren’t getting pincushioned yourself like that time we were fighting at the beginning of the Last War,” said Eiryavel smugly.

“True enough. They had a couple of warforged guarding the dragonshard, but they were easily dealt with. We disabled that ship, and then left, since Ankya needed healing and Tyrian needed resurrecting.

“We returned to the city, and waited until dusk. As the armies entered our view, Sovelom prepared to use his Mark of Storm. The main army approached from the south; to the east and west, small contingents of the large warforged, essentially seigeforged, split off, and began to throw boulders at the walls. We dealt with those to the left. A large fraction of the army, almost half, had entered the range of Sovelom’s prepared magic, and he activated it, engulfing them in a pair of his tornadoes. We then flew to the other side, and destroyed the other seigeforged.

“Sovalem then received a message; a dragon was attacking from the north! Teferi, Ankya and Tyrian went there immediately, while the rest of us took the skiff as quickly as it would fly. Teferi had called many of his followers, and joining the powers of their minds to his, he managed to dominate it. Fortunately. It had already killed a fraction of the weaker population in the north of the city. As you know, this was the dragon created by Vol in the Mournland, and the stuff it breathed was the mist of that place. Instead of attacking us, now it went against the airships with the young gold dragons who joined us from Argonessen.”

“It is a pity that I missed many of these details; there were a few with sufficient power who made it through the gap between his tornadoes that I had my hands full. Even with Teferi’s power, that dragon was difficult to manage.”

“It’s good we didn’t need to worry about it until after the battle. After that, the army had decided to go around the two tornadoes, heading east, where we had been. Invisible, we flew over them, until Tyrian took the helm as Sovelom leapt overboard, flew down thanks to Nebu’s spells, and created another tornado, which wiped out another large fraction of their forces. This tornado was almost immediately dispelled, indicating that some more powerful threat lurked in the back—as we anticipated, guarding the Lord of Blades himself. Nebu and I leapt out, joining Sovelom; the rest flew on in the skiff.

“What followed was a battle between us, the Lord of Blades, and a few of his supporters, who were capable of casting spells on him and dispelling our own. They even enlarged him to enormous size; he damaged the air skiff’s propulsion beyond repair, capable of reaching it even at sixty feet above the ground. The battle seemed to last hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute or so. I dimension doored myself, Nebu and Sovelom closer to the fighting; Sovelom created his tornado; and then all was chaos. Spells were cast and dispelled, blows were struck and blocked. In the end, we all survived, relatively unhurt, and the supporters of the Lord of Blades, and the Lord of Blades himself, were destroyed.”

“Yes; I heard from someone that you had stuck the final blow with Eiryavel?”

“No, we only weakened him enough that a small power of Teferi’s was enough to kill him.”

Watcher shook his head. “A waste of skill and power, that one. What he could have done, had he not been mad…”

“We’ve seen his like before.”

“It only goes to prove what I’ve always been saying,” added Eiryavel. “Pretty much all of you people with legs lack sense.”

Ignoring the sword, Watcher replied, “And we will see them again, since nothing ever really changes. But now, we have a greater threat to confront: the daelkyr.”

“Right. I’ve had word from everyone who has passed their Rite of Wakening.”

Watcher nodded. “And there is another in the Mournland, who is almost ready for the Rite.”

“In any case, Darvik is going to meet us at the ziggurat. Ellandra is still in Argonessen from talking the dragons over, but she’ll catch up soon enough. If we get lucky, we might even convince some of my comrades to come along. It sounds as though Mike wants to establish a monastery, the war weaver wants to avoid getting killed, as always, and only Aureon knows what Teferi is up to. Tyrian’s probably busy with his work… or Orilam. I’ve heard something about Sovalem and Lyrander’s gratitude in the form of an airship. We’ll just have to go find them.”

Watcher stood, and pulled his greataxe from its place. “Then we are ready to begin. Shall we?”

“No more delays!” Siivrell said with a wry grin. Then, simultaneous with her sword, she said, “We have daelkyr to hunt!”

Player’s Notes

Ankya now wins the record for most negative hit points survived; at -3000 or so. I think. It was definitely negative thousands. We didn’t add it all up; it was averaged from lots of lucky low-level warforged. Like twenty thousand or so. She was saved only by not dying while frenzied, and then some spell Nebu cast that put her back to 1 HP.

No monks were killed in the playing of this adventure. Strangely enough.

Domenic informed us at some point that he did expect us to take out the Lord of Blades… but not necessarily most of the army while we were at it. There was supposed to be some sort of final confrontation on the steps of the cathedral… we kind of bypassed that. Bonus points to Scott for successful powergaming.

I don’t go over all the details of the final battle, since, well, I wasn’t there for most of it, alas. Second-hand reports were pretty interesting, though, so I gave the good bits.

Well, trying to wrap things up. Also, well, Siivrell is gung-ho about this “killing of evil stuff” thing. And presumably successful about it, too, if I glance at Michael’s post. [Ed. by Domenic—well, not entirely]

One last thought. Why is this adventure called “The Last Command”? Is it that the Lord of Blades’ last command was to attack the city, or what?


Adventure: Into the Maw
Session: 2007-05-27
Player: Rachel
PC: Silverwind Siivrell
Status: Warblade 1/Wizard 5/Jade Phoenix Mage 5

We continued to work our way through the dark fortress; we next quickly defeated a group of aberrations (our sworn enemies), and then rested for the night inside a rope trick inside a secret passage that the guard kindly told us about.

Only one strange event occurred while we stood against the aberrations.

“Not right now… kind of busy.”

Why did Mike just say that?

Obviously, someone is talking to him.


A moment or two later, when a path to the entrance had cleared, he said, “I’ve got to go,” and went.

In the middle of the Mournland?

That seems even more foolish than something you would do.



The next day, Mike found and rejoined us; he explained that he had to take a message from an oak tree.

An oak tree? That seems odd. I mean, dryad, maybe, or an awakened plant, but–

I told you so! Don’t you remember me mentioning that oak tree near the ziggurat?

Not really.

You’re hopeless.


We passed through the next chamber by means of silence and invisibility, avoiding the monsters there. Sovelom also examined a pit there, briefly, which apparently led to the Glowing Chasm. He informed us that it had strong magic from every school… and could tell without detecting magic.

Siivrell… I don’t like this.

It’s the Mournland. Let’s not go swimming in there, shall we?

Nebu cast fly on all of us, and we went up a shaft in the next chamber… which led us to the uppermost part of a tower, where the Lord of Blades appeared to be casting into a huge cauldron, and Vol (whom we recognized from before) chained to the base of it, holding a plush green dragon and looking generally terrified. Of course, we were still invisible at this point, but, with her being part dragon, she could sense us. Tyrian cast a fog around the Lord of Blades, and then Siivrell lunged forward.

Uh, Siivrell, remember last time, when—

Oh, shush. Maybe she’s had a change of heart.

Siivrell! She’s undead! She doesn’t really have—

Too late. She had already drawn me, and I crashed readily through the chain. Vol shook it off, gestured towards the cloud… then cast an antimagic field on our war weaver. The Lord of Blades was really only an illusion, as were the chains.

SIIVRELL!! What did I tell you?!

She was this tricky last time, wasn’t she?

Here we go again…

Chaos followed. Spells were cast; the war weaver walked untouched among them. For a moment, many of us, including myself, shamed though I am to admit it, were deceived by one of Vol’s spells into believing all of our allies to be Vol. Most unpleasantly dispelled, I’ll tell you. The gnome Teferi dispelled many of Vol’s defenses using the powers of his mind, and Tyrian finally managed to get past them with his blasting capabilities. At last, she was at the edge of Sovalem’s sleet storm, just keeping her balance… and a perfect target.

Siivrell sent her fury through me, augmenting my own strength. Vol was destroyed.

There! That’s done then.

Siivrell… if you were a lich, where would you keep your phylactery?

Very, very far away from my main base; in a secondary safe place, established beforehand, if possible. Hm. I see your point. But there’s always hoping, right?

I suppose… did you recognize that curse?

That dark language, yes.

The last time someone cursed us like that…

Don’t remind me. At least it only lasted one lifetime.

The pieces of Vol flew into the cauldron, which cracked; from within it emerged a green dragon, which flew into the… blue sky?

I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that. Ever.

Me, neither.

How could she have cleared the gloom over this part of the Mournland? And why? Is it just a consequence of the power she was using? The cauldron did have powers of animate dead and consumptive field contained in it; that has clearly affected her, but, with the moons’ conjunction, what has it done to the Mournland?

I’m a sword. You’re the mage.

Right. And the Mournland is also without precedent… what a puzzle.

After a moment, still under the effects of Nebu’s fly spell, Mike rose above the rest of us to examine the surrounding area. He reported that the Glowing Chasm was now boiling and bubbling.

So now the glowing chasm is a boiling brew of extremely powerful magic of all kinds.

Siivrell, that can’t be good.

For once, I’m inclined to agree with you. Animate dead… hm. What if that just animated the dead lying in the Mournland?



I don’t know about you, but that’s more undead than I can handle.

That’s what I thought. I hope I’m as wrong as you always say I am.

Player’s Notes

I am highly amused by the last strike made against Vol. Lots of stuff causing lots of damage. Yay! Siivrell will be most disappointed if she and Vol meet again. Which, considering the lifespans of the persons involved… is not unlikely.

Amazing, nobody was killed in that encounter. Or even dropped into negatives… which, considering the amount of healing magic we have, is a good thing.

And now, for the final showdown…

Adventure: Before the Storm, Into the Maw
Session: 2007-05-19
Player: Rachel Reddick
PC: Silverwind Siivrell
Status: Warblade 1/Wizard 5/Jade Phoenix Mage 4

“To the ziggurat! Care to come along?” Somehow, Siivrell convinced the timid halfling named Cade to join her on her phantom steed, chasing after another rider who probably had the same destination in mind.

It’s a good thing you’ve got this fellow along. I think he’s a healer.


From what I recall of what Watcher said to you, the last bunch of adventurers to go after these vampires got burned–

Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.

I always have to worry about it. Every time you get killed, I get stuck in somebody’s attic or a deep dungeon for a couple of decades, collecting dust and cobwebs.

Psh. Oh, here’s that rider.

Introductions were exchanged. The other rider was Tyrian, and he, too, was after the vampires. Soon thereafter, though limited by the pace of Tyrian’s merely magebred mount, we arrived at the ziggurat and its bonefield.

Those bones definitely weren’t here last time.

You don’t think…

I doubt a couple of vampires have one of those for a pet. Besides, it would have eaten the adventurers before they got to the vampires. Speaking of whom–

A simply-dressed human was leaning against an oak tree outside the bone field. Near him were a gnome and a slightly menacing orc.

I don’t like the looks of that orc.

Oh, shush, Eiryavel. They’ve been instrumental in defending Eberron.

And this one may be mental.

If you say so.

More introductions took place. Mike, Teferi and Ankya. Another person was there, a Karrnathi war weaver named Nebu. He had the blue eyes of an azurin.

The Karrnathi are idiots. You should never send a war weaver alone to deal with an issue. They’re best for supporting others.


Although it is good that he’s here. Maybe you wouldn’t die so frequently if we worked with war weavers more often.

Hey! I can handle myself just fine!

Only so long as you aren’t cornered by five warforged an hour before reinforcements are due.

That wasn’t my fault.


The group entered the ziggurat, and quickly reached the vampiric Antinua. Siivrell stepped into the room after Tyrian released his spells upon the undead elf.

Siivrell, going first isn’t such a good idea… remember when–


A spell caused a bunch of tentacles to sprout from the ground and grabbed Siivrell. A spell by Nebu caused her to swap places with the monk.

Was that really necessary? I could have dimension doored out myself.

They just wanted you out, and someone who could grapple in.

But it’s implying that I couldn’t have gotten myself out. Ugh.

A few seconds later, Tyrian had reduced Antinua to vapor and trapped her in a stone hemisphere.

That Tyrian is efficient. And you’re the only one who got hurt at all.

I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Well, that’s done.

Wait. Wasn’t there another vampire?

The voice of Lucan Stellos spoke, offering a compromise. The amulet that Blaze had gave the bearer the ability to control the powerful vampires of the world. Lucan wanted the amulet — and thereby, his freedom. A debate raged between the adventurers; Tyrian explained that Blaze was trying to destroy the item, and would not give it up, especially to Lucan. Someone asked what Lucan would consume to survive; he was unwilling to give up the blood of people for that of animals.

“You could always just use my followers,” offered Teferi.

The monk objected. Smack. A fight seemed iminent.

I agree with the monk, but I think it’s time for you to intervene, Eiryavel.


Siivrell drew me in an instant, and held me between them. “If you continue with this,” I said, “you will only be proving my belief that all creatures with legs are idiots.”

Nice. But what about me, hm?

Oh, I already know you’re an idiot.

Hmph. It took you seven millenia to come to that conclusion?

No, about seven seconds.

And you’re still around?

It’s what I was made for. You do realize we’ve had this conversation before, right?

Should I remember every argument we’ve had in the past seven millenia?

Well, I certainly–what’s that?

Lucan had come down from the ceiling, and had tried to attack Tyrian. Tyrian was quick, and trapped Lucan in a web spell. The position for negotiating improved considerably.

“Just kill me now and get it over with.”

That’s a little pessimistic.

He was made a vampire against his will, and we can’t change that, except by killing him. You expect rays of sunshine from him?

Not particularly.

Besides, he’s a vampire. Undead are not proper living creatures.

You’re an undead-bane weapon. Of course you think that. But what is the just action here? What is fair to him, and still protects the innocent? I don’t remember any precedent for this.

There was one time when– oh.

With the agreement of the others, Teferi used his mental powers to open up a hole to the outside — letting the sun fall on Lucan, utterly destroying him. After two hours had elapsed, Antinua’s vapors also faded into nothing.


The group then returned to Flamekeep. Cade had seen enough fighting, and sensibly returned to the quiet wilderness he had been wandering before. Most of the group teleported; some of Teferi’s followers slowly and unskillfully flew an airskiff that had belonged to the adventuring party’s remnants, which we had now supplemented. Siivrell rode her phantom steed.

That monk seemed very fond of that oak tree near the ziggurat. Didn’t you notice?

No. Maybe he just likes trees.

Maybe. Wait, weren’t we supposed to turn right here?

No, left.

No, the next turn’s a left.

Hm. Maybe you’re right. Oh, well, we’ll just take a left at the next crossroads.

No, right! I said right!

I’m right, you say?

Why do you insist on misinterpreting what I say?

Because it’s fun. So quit trying to hold the reins.

I can’t hold anything.

Then I guess I’ll just have to do it.


Blaze listened to the information of the completed mission, and gave another: to track down Vol and her supporters in the Mournland, determine the nature of her arcane experiments… and stop them, before they were used to crush Thrane.

After gathering supplies, the party gathered on the newly-returned airskiff, now captained by Sovalem, a half-elf turned kobold and compatriot of Blaze who had been raised from the dead.


On the way to the Mournland, aboard the airskiff…

We’ve met Vol before, haven’t we?

Yes… about seven hundred years ago.

Pretty recently then. Let me think. It was us and a few others, and we confronted her when… oh, that one didn’t go so well, did it?

Not really. It’s a good thing Verall escaped, or I’d be in the hands of the Blood of Vol.

Not a pleasant thought.

Especially if you’re an undead-bane weapon who was a breath away from being owned by a bunch of powerful undead types.

Well, we’ll just have to make sure we finish what we’re doing, then.

At least Vol probably won’t recognize you. Just be careful.

Yes, getting killed again now would be inconvenient.


After traveling in the Mournlands to the glowing chasm, we found a great black fortress that spanned the chasm, blocking the glowing lava from view.

“That fortress was definitely not here before the day of Mourning.”

The airskiff swept in. After confronting and defeating a flying undead creature, an upper entrance was selected. Four of the five guards were silenced, and quickly killed; the fifth was dominated by Teferi, questioned for details of the fortress, including where he was not permitted to go and the password to enter, then knocked unconcious by the monk. To fascilitate our passage, Nebu made us invisible and silent, and Teferi bound us all with a mindlink. He neglected to include me, but I expected as much.

In the next room, we encountered a green dragon.

“Unholy father of Vol!” said Sovalem through the mindlink. Of course, dragons can see right through invisibility…

We withdrew, and the war weaver worked his magic. When we were ready, we entered. The dragon had prepared defensive spells as well, but Nebu quickly wiped them away. Vol’s father breathed acid at the other half of the party; Tyrian trapped him with web. Then Sovalem and Ankya struck him with lightning and greataxe, and he perished. A warrior entered the room, and would have left to sound the alarm, but Tyrian quickly turned him to ashes.

Entering that passage, we found a cluster of undead. Tyrian scorched one, and the others dealt with another; as for the other two…

That was a great deal of fun.

Fun? And you’re always trying to tell me not to get so excited about combat?

They’re undead.

And smacking undead is what you’re made for.


Player’s Notes

This should be an amusing way of writing up events… hm. As from sword’s perspective, plus tidbits of telepathic conversation.

That, and this party is currently pretty wicked in terms of damage output. Thanks in large part to the war weaver, Matt’s new character. I get this funny feeling that Domenic is going to pull out some interesting villains…

Player: Rachel Reddick
PC: Silverwind Siivrell
Status: Warblade 1/Wizard 5/Jade Phoenix Mage 4

Somewhere in Aundair, some months ago…

A tall, silver-skinned illumian searches through an attic.

“I can’t believe I broke another sword,” she mutters. Eventually, she finds what she is looking for: a chest of weapons donated to the cabal for services rendered many years ago. Because of her own service, she’s being allowed to choose a blade from here. And also because she needs a sturdier weapon.

Beneath the other assorted blades, she finds a greatsword, with a large piece of jade in the hilt and the name Eiryavel etched into the adamantine. She takes it out, and tests its balance.

Perfect, she thinks, Almost as if it were made for me.


Siivrell leans back to think, staring at the blade on the table in front of her. “There’s something strange about you, Eiryavel, and something strangely familiar…” she mutters to herself.

“May I enter?”

“Certainly.” Siivrell turns to see Watcher, a warforged with whom she had fought before. “Can I help you with something?” She grins. “Hopefully with defeating something evil?”

“Perhaps a little later,” he says quietly. “I wish to speak with you on a matter of importance. Have you ever noticed that everything seems vaguely familiar? Perhaps remembering history you never learned?”

“I do seem to have déjà vu more often than most people. And history… you’re right. What’s all this about?”

“I believe you and I are a part of the same organization, the Order of the Jade Phoenix.”


“We thirteen were the only survivors of the order after fighting to drive the daelkyr into Khyber, protecting Eberron from their destructive power. We swore an oath, to forever defend Eberron from the creatures of Khyber. That oath extends even beyond death. Your sword — the one you bear now — has become bound to that oath as well, through you.”

“The daelkyr? That was, what, nine thousand years ago?”


“Almost unbelievable…”

“But true. The memories only need to be reawakened, as Eiryavel will reawaken.”

Siivrell shook her head. “Reawakened how?”

“I wish to perform the rite of waking. We only need talk a few minutes, and you will begin to remember…”


“Fantastic. All that history we had a hand in… Now, what was that about smacking something evil?”

Some people never change, Watcher thought, even after over a hundred lifetimes.

A few months later…

Siivrell walks down a road. “We’re not lost. I know exactly where we are.”

“Right, then, where are we?” asks a neutral voice coming from her sword.

“We’re, ah, in Thrane near the Mournland, and–”

“And? And?”


“I thought so.”

“But I’ve been here before!”

“Right, about six hundred years ago.”

A halfling leans out from the brush, and timidly says, “Um, hello? Who are you talking to?”

“Oh!” Where did he pop out from? Siivrell thinks. “Just Eiryavel, my sword. It’s always more fun to argue out loud.”

A little later…

“Were you really here six hundred years ago?”

“Well, closer to five hundred ninety.”

“How old are you?”


Player’s Notes

I anticipate a great deal of amusement. Slightly cocky but easily lost fighter/mage with a talking sword. Note that Eiryavel has twice the wisdom of Siivrell. In any case, Siivrell is the official spell-casting meatshield. Yay!

Prior to levels and items and such:

  • Str: 15+2 = 17 (+3)
  • Dex: 10 (+0)
  • Con: 13+2 = 15 (+2)
  • Int: 16 (+3)
  • Wis: 8 (-1)
  • Cha: 8+2 = 10 (+0)

And Eiryavel:

  • Int: 12
  • Wis: 16
  • Cha: 12

…the adamantine, diamond-mind, undead-bane and slightly cynical weapon of mass amusement value.

The timid halfling at the end is Cade, a healer extraordinaire type character briefly played by Scott.