Chapter I

In the cool of the third season, travelers flock to the capital city of Radisha, the political and economic center of the southern continent of Koronach. They come from all over, from the far reaches of the Vinterlands, where dragons are said to rule, to the nearby cities of Bori-nor, home to industrial dwarves and gnomes, and Miaochii, a magical intellectual city of tabaxi catfolk.

It is the year 243 AH, Annus Heroicus, two and some centuries after the fall of the evil lich Silanoch, when the calendar was reset to herald the new age of peace. It is in the city of Radisha (named for the epic adventurer Radish who protected the city walls from falling) that Princess Isolde, long stricken with disease, will be crowned Queen in her newfound health. The Central Plaza is bustling with travelers and citizens alike. Two travelers, a beautiful cleric and a handsome paladin, join the throngs, searching for some amusement. Not so far away, a spry rogue and a mad artificer survey the scene. And in the darkest corner of the plaza, a warlock stands beside a ghoulish being, content to remain anonymous. It is no coincidence that these five individuals have gathered at this event, though they each had their own reasons.

The apothecary catches the sharp eye of Trynn, the halfing rogue. She bids her companion a temporary goodbye as she steps towards the apothecary. Wishing to sate a thirst, the artificer chooses instead to enter the local tavern. The humble tavern, all wood floors and rafted ceilings, is unusually empty, save for the barkeep, the tavern maid, and a ranger nursing a beer in the shadowy corner. The maid immediately greets her customer. "And how can I help you?"

"Ricky Mad-eye, ma'am. I'll have a glass of your finest drink."

"Honey, the best I got is some three day old beer."

Not to be turned away from alcohol, Ricky plops onto a bench. "That'll do."

Meanwhile, in the apothecary, the tinkling of the bell alarms the alchemist, who notices the apparent lack of a customer. He peers cautiously over the counter and is met by the innocent girlish face of Trynn.

"Oh!" the alchemist chuckles in relief. "Didn't notice you there at first. And from what parts thereabout do you hail?"

Scanning the shop for valuables, Trynn replies with a smile, "From Bori-nor, good sir. I've come to see the coronation." The alchemist gladly makes small talk, and the rogue makes a purchase of five potions, disappointed when the alchemist enters a back workroom where anything worth stealing might be kept. Leaving the apothecary, she traipses to the tavern, knowing without a doubt that her companion would have chosen to pass time with the best of spirits. Inside the tavern, she appraises the scene: the barkeep attending to a cleric and paladin, a ranger in the far corner, and the artificer polishing off his second mug.

The maid, having no one else to talk to, has taken a seat across from Ricky. "And where do you come from, stranger?"

"To tell you the truth," says Ricky. "I haven't got a clue. I woke up with nothing but the spells in my head, not even any clothes!"

"That's odd, almost as weird as the crazy things that've been happening around here."

"What do you mean?" Trynn pipes up.

The maid jumps, startled at the sudden appearance of the stealthy rogue. "My, didn't notice you there! Well, lately the moon has been bloody red nearly every night. The crops haven't really been turning up yields, and the livestock keep going missing! We're basically out of meat!" She looks up and notices the cleric and paladin listening in with undisguised curiosity.

"Please continue," says the paladin. "These blood moons are concerning. Do you know anything as to why this is happening?"

"Well, I think I saw the first one several weeks ago. Say, that's about when I heard our princess was cured. I suppose the gods have got it in for us, giving us a good thing and then a bad thing. But to be honest with ya, I haven't got any more information. It sure is frightening to see every night."

The cleric turns to the paladin. "Xev'ric, there was an information booth across the plaza. Perhaps we might find clues there."

"I will join you," Trynn stands, eyeing the purse strings dangling from the paladin's belt. The three leave Ricky to his third mug of beer and cross the plaza to the brightly painted little building.

Inside, a wizened cartographer sits at his desk scratching in gridlines for a new map. The walls are hidden by shelves of scrolls and tomes, all filled with knowledge detailing the rich history of the nearby regions and of worlds unimaginably far away. Lost in wonderment, the good paladin stumbles at the edge of a rug and grabs the nearest shelf for support.

Boom! The shelf tips over, spilling its contents all across the floor. The cartographer gasps in horror, crying, "But those took so long to organize!"

Greatly ashamed, Xev'ric sets the shelf upright and proceeds to gather up the scrolls as quickly as he can. "My deepest apologies. I have ruined all of your hard work. Please take these five gold as compensation." The cartographer generously forgives the intrusion and graciously accepts the offering, not noticing that as soon as he deposits them on the desk, they vanish into the rogue's pockets.

The cleric picks up a stray map. "Why it's a map of the continent. This would be useful. Please tell me how much it costs."

"Oh, that's one of several hundred copies. You may have it for free," the cartographer says with a smile, wondering when these clumsy tourists would leave him alone. "I really appreciate your help cleaning up."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, not after knocking over your shelf like that," the paladin interjects, reaching for his purse again. "Please, you must take somethi---my money!" The paladin pats himself up and down, realizing with shock that his wallet is missing. "There were at least a hundred coins in there!"

"Mine too!" says the cleric.

"And mine as well," Trynn says with a growl.

The three of them turn around and spot a shadow racing out the door.

"After him!" The trio bolt after the thief, whose shadow is barely visible in the throngs of the crowd. Nearby, the warlock too notices his missing purse, perceives instantly that the harried fugitive in the square is likely responsible, and joins the pursuit.

Ricky, still in the tavern, attempts to sense whether the ranger sharing the venue might be dangerous or not. He reaches out carefully with his mind when an enormous sensation of magic passes just outside the tavern. Forgetting his beer, he jumps up and glances outside, where he sees the blur of his friend disappearing down an alleyway.

"Wait up!"

Down the alleyway, the rogue's small form and light feet immediately takeover the culprit, whom she tackles to the ground. It is but a human boy, not even near fifteen years.

Upon seeing an angry rogue, an intimidating paladin, a glimmering cleric, and a frightening warlock standing over him, the thief begins crying immediately. "I'm sorry! Please let me go! You can have these back. Just please don't hurt me!"

"Why did you take our money?" Trynn demands. With a fresh burst of tears, the thief explains that his mother is ill and he was in need of money to purchase medications.

Huffing and puffing, the mad artificer finally joins the group. "What did I miss?"

The thief returns the purses, and the good paladin offers the leftover wallet to the newcomer. "This must be yours."

"Wow, I didn't even notice it was gone. Much thanks. Ricky Mad-Eye by the way."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you. Xev'ric Reiltar, at your service."

Trynn offers the woebegone thief five gold coins to take to his mother. "Thank you miss!" The thief accepts the offer and races further down the alley.

When the boy has disappeared from sight, Trynn looks to her companions. "I'm going to follow him." Intrigued, the rest of them follow the rogue's lead.

The boy takes a harrowing route through holes in the walls, back alleys, and finally down into the sewers. No sunlight reaches into these depths, but at least the pathway is tall enough for even the tallest of their member, and just a short distance away, the sewers branch and the intersection seems to have unnatural lighting illuminating the area. The thief turns down the branched path.

As they make the same turn, two armed people leap out, weapons raised. The first cries out in a woman's voice, "Trespassers, you shall not live!"

Caught off guard, Xev'ric stumbles as the woman slashes with her sword, just missing him. Called by the sound of battle and his master's command, the shadowy hulk that had been lingering behind the warlock suddenly materializes into a ghoulish creature. The ghoul swipes the woman's companion and draws blood. The armed man finds himself unable to move a single muscle. The rogue leaps forward, closing the distance between her and the other woman to get behind easy reach of the woman's sword and flashing her dagger. Her opponent easily knocks aside the dagger with her gauntleted arm.

Recovering his poise, the paladin throws up an outstretched arm. "Wait!" he shouts, "what have we done to wrong you?"

His charismatic voice echoes down the sewers, and all the combatants pause.

The woman lowers her sword. "Tell me, why are you here?"

"We followed the boy," the paladin replies.

"Why are you here in this city?"

Xev'ric sheaths his own sword and opens his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I've come to seek an honest living, perhaps offering my services as an escort to a nobleman."

"Family business," the rogue shrugs.

"I happen to be passing through," the cleric says.

"Ricky Mad-eye, ma'am," Ricky offers a handshake. The handshake is not returned. The warlock and his ghoul companion offer no response. The five of them suddenly feel a probing tingling, like a wave of magic passing through them, seeking their true intentions. The sensation disappears as quickly as it had come.

The woman also sheaths her sword. "I see that you have not come here with malicious intent. You are welcome to leave unharmed. You are also welcome to stay and hear my proposition. It is not often that people of your caliber come wandering to my doorstep, and I have need of your assistance."

The companions exchange glances, and no one moves to leave.

Their host indicates for them to follow. Further down the unnaturally lit hall (Ricky perceives some machination of magic in the hung light globes), it is clear that a portion from the sewers has been dug out and fashioned into an underground stronghold. A great number of people of all sizes, ages, and races are bustling in the main hall of the stronghold.

"You might know of the tale of the legendary adventurers who two and a half centuries ago managed to vanquish the dark lich Silanoch," the woman narrates as they pick their way through the activity. "They sealed his power at the Forbidden Grounds to the north, and there his power has slept all this time. We have reason to believe that evil is once again afoot, and that someone is trying to claim that power for themselves and accomplish what Silanoch failed to do all those years ago."

"The blood moons!" Xev'ric exclaims. "I wonder if they are related." His heart races at the thought of danger once again threatening the stability of their lands. He looks up and finally notices the ghoul standing near the silent warlock. "Demon!"

The warlock catches his wrist. "Sheath your sword. Do not seek trouble where there is none," he says quietly.

Unknowing or perhaps uncaring of the outbursts, their host continues her tale. "I'm sure you're aware that the Forbidden Grounds have been guarded by the soldiers of the Great Barrier. Of late, these soldiers have been returning with fear in their eyes and gibbering speech, robbed of all reason. And indeed the timing of the blood moons could not be more suspicious."

"I think that's where I woke up," Ricky interrupts, "near that big wall. The Great Barrier, I mean."

The group end their meandering in an elevated room, doors closing behind them. The bustle outside the doors die away as everyone looks around. Stone lines this chamber, bedecked with the globe lights and maps of every part of the known world. In front of them is a large table with a continental map and several flags and figurines standing in various territories.

"My name is Nerine," their host continues. "I am the leader of the White Eagle. We seek to root out this new source of evil and to nip it in the bud. We must operate underground because as of now, the political leaders of our world ignore the obvious warning signs, content to live obliviously. Even the princess, now Queen, cannot be trusted."

They move to stand around the central table and Nerine indicates their city of Radisha on the map. "We are headquartered here, but I am recruiting as far out as I possibly can. We need all the information that we can get. Will you join our cause? Will you go out into the world, seeking information and working to stop evil from rising again?"

"How can I not aid this worthy cause?" Xev'ric responds, determination flaring in his eyes. He turns to his cleric companion. "Lady Godiva, won't you help out as well?"

The cleric nods. "If I can be of any assistance, just let me know."

Ricky agrees. "If I can figure out what's on the other side of that wall, I might finally remember who the heck I am and where I came from."

The rogue seems less convinced. "I will help until it no longer suits me."

They all turn to look at the warlock. His expression unreadable, he says, "I will lend my help, but not for the same goal."

Unperturbed by the unequal commitment of the individual adventurers, Nerine smiles. "It makes me happy knowing that we have strong supporters on our side.

"Wherever you choose to go, know that you have allies of the White Eagle," Nerine indicates the white eagle brooch on her cloak. "I have contacts in Bori-Nor and Miaochi as well as a handful of nomads whose location frequently changes. Know them by this question, 'Where does the eagle fly on the white moon?' Friends will answer, 'Neither above nor below the clouds.'"

Ricky points out the Forbidden Grounds on the map. "Why not start at the source? Let's go there first."

Before the companions depart, Nerine gifts a soft felted hat to the mad artificer and a collection of potions to the cleric. "May these aid in your quest. The easiest route would be to leave through the north gate of the city.

"And one last thing. No magic lock exists without a key, and if you stumble upon the key to unsealing Silanoch's power, you must take that into custody and prevent it from falling into the wrong hands."

Finally outside, the companions realize they are just in time to see the newly crowned Queen emerge from the spired chapel to stand at the upper balcony overlooking the Central Plaza. The hustle and bustle dies down as she speaks.

"It is a new day, my people. I thank every one of you for coming to visit our beautiful city, for it means to me that you care about the livelihood not only of Radisha but of the lands around us, you care about the ongoings of the place in which we all reside, and for that, I could not be more happy to serve as your Queen."

Looking up at the beautiful young Queen, Xev'ric is struck by a strange feeling in his heart, that no matter what, he must do his utmost to serve her. A thundering cheer rises from the crowd as the Queen waves one final time, throws down a cascade of petals, and disappears back into the protected chambers of the chapel.

The companions depart, eager to begin. In the early evening, with the event over, the streets are clearing, and they reach the north gate uneventfully. A lone guard perks up at the sight of people.

"Ho, are you going outside the city at this hour? Be careful! There have been reports of bandits and monsters harrying the roads."

Godiva thanks the guard for his warnings and they stop by the wagonhouse. She pulls out the map from the mapmaker and shows it to her companions. "If we travel now by wagon, we can rest the night at the Elvish Preserve and reach the Forbidden Grounds tomorrow with daylight to spare."

A tubby wagonmaster waddles out to meet the potential customers. "And how might I help you? We have a luxurious coach, an affordable carriage, and a basic wagon. All are powered by the latest model of the no-touch engine."

The warlock steps forward. "We'll take the carriage, at a discount."

Suddenly beguiled by the unusual warlock, the wagonmaster is happy to accept the steep cut in price. Xev'ric feels quite caught off guard at the generosity shown by the warlock purchasing the carriage with his own purse.

The group sets off onto the road, the cleric taking the first shift in expending her magic to power the carriage engine.