We take off to report on the destruction of Alric’s laboratory, boarding one of the infernal aerial contraptions common to Sharn. As we soared over the city, examining pieces of the machine, we failed to notice incoming air skiffs, “soar-sleds”, in the parlance of the locals. I suppose that this common acceptance of the role of magical engineering is part of what lets the Sharnians grow accustomed to their rampant use of magic. Whatever moral laxity the urbanites may show in their embrace of free-floating skybarges, however, ‘tis a far cry from the cruelty displayed by the riders of those sleds, a crew of vicious bandits who began firing quarry upon our ship.
With our newfound companion Bowser-the-housebroken-drake standing guard over the terrified chauffeur (no doubt realizing he lacked faith in the Higher Power) we six took charge of the situation with swift fury. As the sleds pulled up to the ship, as if to board, courageous Rhogir lept aboard one, pummeling its hapless pilot with powerful blows. It was only after boarding that we realized that our helmsman was too frightened to adjust the controls. Meaning slow the ship down. Meaning in a matter of seconds Rhogir was flying behind us, almost out of sight.
Commanding the helmsman to slow down, we caught sight of the architect of this ambush. The providence of the Silver Flame(hallowed by its light) be praised, for the leader of our foes was none other than Alric himself, albeit hideously deformed by the weight of his sinful practices. I called out to see if he might be saved, only to discover the truth about our initial encounter. Apparently, this dastardly villain had planned the initial attack at the tower, and we had, rather than rescuing him from the prophecy mark, disrupted a dark ritual to drain its power.
My heart was bitter at realizing that I had rescued him, but on reflection, how fitting, that the Silver Flame (hallowed by its light) guided us to stopping his dark magic, and that now we continue to stop machinations, even here in this sparkless city? At the time, however, we were all consumed by rage at the attack, and fear at the innocents who might be hurt by this battle raging above their rooftops. We simply had to end it quickly. Luckily, we six are mighty, and our weapons strong. Arlena displayed, as usual, brave martial prowess in challenging Alric aboard a flying sled, while Rhogir and Rok surrounded themselves with foes to keep the rest of us safe.
After bringing Alric down, we returned to the Lord-Major, to report on the conclusion of our investigation. He was deeply saddened by the discovery of Alric’s betrayal. I must remark here that there were certain signs in his speech that it was, although heartbreaking, not entirely a surprise. I wonder, what history this Alric might have had, and what the Lord Major might know baout it. After all, he had to have discovered that ritual somewhere? And what of the Emerald Claw, and the witch M.-, and her involvement? But those questions went unanswered.
Lest I be impolitic, I also must explain where I am writing from, and why I am not returning to the monastery quite yet. The Lord-Major offered us a residency, in the city, in the interest of rooting out similar conspiratorial threats from dark forces. And since Sharn has little in the way of Holy Warriors, I realized that I was in a situation similar to Saint Mercia in the Village of Padna, and that we had been assembled, by prophecy of the Flame itself, to provide the kindling for a new emergence of the Silver Flame (hallowed by its light), here in the largest city of the known world. I have already established a small shrine, and have taken the liberty of removing certain sinful tomes from the residency’s library and adding a number of religious texts of value in their place. I was pleasantly surprised to find a collection of historical works on Khorvaire and Brelish history. While biased and primitive (obvious, considering their origin), they bring some interesting allegories forth and will prove a prudent tool for future missions in the region. And the military and mythological portions are eminently fascinating, in documenting the patterns of evil—apparently, there is little in Brelish history of female heroism, a sure sign of imbalance and wickedness.
I leave enclosed a map to our domicile. I hope that you might register our location, and send any wayward initiates, visiting scholars, or eminent clerics our way, so that I might have some company of ethical caliber here.
Your servant in the Flame,
Laetitia (once of Durga, for now) of Sharn