The Ruins of Castle Moorfathom

A Carefully Worded Wish

Resurrects Oslaf

Kolburn dug his shoulder into the side of the granite plinth and gave it a shove. Buried below was a small hoard of treasure, comprised of hundreds of gold and platinum coins and several alexandrite stones. Hidden within the coins he found a ring, made of two rough platinum bands, held in parallel by an unseen force.

With a word, detectu!, Blake’s hands began to crackle with eldritch light. As he moved his hands over the ring, it began to glow with a faint bluish light. The ring was magical, then. But it would take further wizardry to determine its power.

^ ^ ^

Oslaf turned around to find that his hired band of adventurers had vanished. The light that their cleric Nagle held was extinguished. He was alone. Had they ducked down a dark tributary while his back was turned? or by some magic been carried off to some happier errand? No use wasting time guessing. The only thing to do was to press on, towards Djuna, where his brother was waiting.

His mood was much improved once he discovered The Old Dwarven Road. It would be an easy trek to The Good City from here. But it wasn’t long before he spotted something moving up ahead—his hirelings. But how? and why?


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