I would be noted that the temple inhabited by Ghaunadaur's worshipers, located deep in the Underdark, currently seems to be overflowing with ooze and slime. Anyone who'd dare to open the gates to the structure soon would be overflowed with waves of mindless slimy mass, bent on devouring everything that is unfortunate enough to come across it's path.

Who knows what's responsible for such a state of things?

//PM me in case of attempts to venture within.

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"All along the watchtower,
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
,bare-foot servants, too.
Outside in the distance
A wild cat did growl,
Two riders were approaching,
The wind began to howl
All along the watchtower!"

Waves of crazed slimes were seen retreating from the heretic temple, heading in all possible directions, as if suddenly wanting to find themselves as far away from that place as it was possible.

Now, the previously slime-infested structure stands mostly empty. Within, only corpses of slaughtered drow can be found, floating in gigantic puddles of slowly drying up slime and ooze. Those few faithful of Ghaunadaur who survived the slaughter, now howl vile curses into the damp air of the Underdark, and roar promises of holy revenge upon the invaders that dared to defile their holy site.

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"All along the watchtower,
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
,bare-foot servants, too.
Outside in the distance
A wild cat did growl,
Two riders were approaching,
The wind began to howl
All along the watchtower!"

As they leave the Tower, beaten up, burned and wounded, yet victorious, Yaston and Angela witnessed the retreat of the slimes and looked puzzled at the scene. They meet yet another brave knight that had being send out against her wishes, and they then ported back home to Kohlingen.

Angela's cotton clothes were destroyed by the acid, her skin burnt. Yaston and Rosa's armor glued to their skin and were removed with it, causing serious wounds to both. They take several days of healing and regeneration.

The Ancient Slime, some calls the Avatar of Ghaunadaur slain and one item found in middle of the slime. The item had an aura as malefic as the Avatar itself and it pulses as if it was a living thing. Angela places it inside a wooden box and keep it safely where no one can find.

Angela kneels before Ilmater and those who were close to her would listen her prayer:

Father, I trusted you in all the path covered with enemies, with evil and I thank you for maintaining us moving forward when all our senses said to us, go back, it is just too much. Thanks for the brave Sir Yaston that never gave up when even I that never fault my trust on your protection, said lets go. I never saw so much evil. I never saw so much terrible creatures in my life. But, we had to go, the child now is sick as well and for a good cause. The innocent one only wanted to save many lives and now he may perish. Protect him father I am certain you did with the other Drow. Protect him until we can figure out all these puzzles, all this many pieces that seem to indicate one direction. A direction that I fear to take. Protect Sir Yaston, Ilmater, he loves you as well, he loves you very much and he fought so bravely. Tyr and Torm are certainly proud of their knight.

I know we must have angered a deity now. A deity of evil, that created those foul creatures. A deity that asks for blood sacrifices. Allow us to be free from his revenge Father and if not free, allow us the strength to fight and the ability to win this foe.

I thank you my Lord for your help, and thanks Tyr and Torm for me, I am certain the Triad were there with us and kept us alive against all the odds.

May I endure all the suffering of the world so others will live joyful lives, in thy name Ilmater, always.

She raises and moves to the Keep where she continues her research, she look at the item studying it, her mind searching for connections between Ghaunadur and the disease. The enemies they killed and the cure, she falls asleep on her chair after she ends some notes and thoughts on the matter.

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Signature by Qualiz

Del's Characters Entry - Amiawiki.

*In a dark chamber of the Triadic temple a man is laying on a cot and reading letters what the order has received. The man who was once Yaston Sylgerand reads the letter of Thomas Ashaler and sighs deeply.*

A servant of Torm with such a harsh judgment on an entire race...isn't it against his codes?

*Drops the letter and starts to murmur a prayer to the Triad for the paladin's soul.*

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Lord Hector Sylgerand
Glendil Fettian, the black bard

Angela raise from her bed and walk to the room she is keeping the metal box with the Avatar of Ghaunadaur heart, or what she and Yaston now call heart. She look at this dark green brownish colored rounded thing. It is still pulsing. She frowns and mutters with herself

"What type of heart continues warm and pulsing for several days after the creature has being slain? It feels as if it is alive, and the aura of evil is so thick. Being a cure or not, it shall be destroyed."

She now has the sword with the divine power to destroy it, it is time to call upon the Clergy of the Triad and prepare a holy ceremony to do so.

_________________

Signature by Qualiz

Del's Characters Entry - Amiawiki.

*Angela cloaks herself hiding and walk fast looking behind her all the time, the shadows spooking her as she walks fast to an unknown destination. She steps into a portal and move away from this plane. On her bag she carried a metal box, some clothes and some personal things. She tells no one where she is going.*

And to think I could have brought the plague to us all. And think that I could have set loose an evil that could be worse than that Dragon Construct. Thanks the Gods for the Drow. Ilmater blesses his lost soul.

Lets hope Celestia will help us, with a plan at least.

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Signature by Qualiz

Del's Characters Entry - Amiawiki.

*After hiding herself for a couple of weeks someone finally brushes her mind. It was the right time. She closes her eyes and let her defenses down, allowing the scrying. She feels Yaston mind searching for her. She gets her rod and port to the keep.*

I hope it will be worthy the risk...

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Signature by Qualiz

Del's Characters Entry - Amiawiki.

It had been hours. The small figure in black and gold armor paused upon the road and looked slowly around. “Where,” her drow accent made the common she spoke sound exotic and her voice was clear in the still air of the afternoon in the Amia Frontier. “is a surfacer when you need one?”

She sighed and turned toward the Blood Moon Orc Territory. As she turned movement caught her crimson eyes. She instinctively brought her blade up and changed her stance for battle as the massive orc and his dire mace came into view. As he neared he did not bring up his weapon or yell curses as she had experienced in the past with others of his tribe. Instead, his eyes were on the ground. All his attention was there and as he strode by her, she realized that he was tracking.

She pivoted and followed. The orc lead her along the road at a steady pace, apparently the tracks were easy to follow. Through the wilderness and towards the rivvil city of Cordor. Soon enough the cries of angry goblins and battle reached them and the orc picked up its pace slightly as he strode down a small hill. She was close behind and watched as the Blood Moon Orc shouted and swinging his dire mace attacked the lone figure it had been tracking.

A rivvil. She smiled beneath her helm as she watched the battle. This would be a great honor for the rivvil, he would be the first. The rivvil male did well enough, putting an end to the roars of the orc and the screams of the goblins. Now that she had seen the rivvil in battle she knew he would pose no threat to her. “You will deliver a message.” She told him in common.

She had planned well. She had spoken the words she would say before hand, thought of what to say and when. She had readied herself for several outcomes. In her mind, she knew what she would do if the rivvil attempted to defend himself. What to do should the rivvil run. What to do should another or others interrupted her. She was prepared to knock the rivvil cold and awaken him tied and bound if necessary. What she wasn’t prepared for was what the rivvil did. He simply agreed to deliver the message.

She spoke quickly explaining to him, she spun away her blade and slung up her shield and grabbed his arm. Her grip was strong and he didn’t struggle, even when she brought out the syringe.

“Angela of Kohlingen has the cure for what the Triadic Knights call the Wyrmling plague. She has refused to give it to me.” Perhaps the rivvil hadn’t heard of the plague, perhaps he didn’t realize his danger. Then again it isn’t as if he really had a choice. She injected him.

“If you want the cure you will need to find Angela. Go to the Triadic Knights they will know where to find Angela.” She paused then wanting to make sure the rivvil understood her resolve. “When you find her, tell Angela that I want the object. Tell her that until I get the object more surfacers will be infected.”

“What’s your name?” He asked as he rubbed his arm at the injection site.

“I am Blood Storm. Angela can contact me through the mercenaries at the Quagmire mercenary camp.”

As she left the rivvil she wondered just how many it would take for the Triadic Knights to understand just how serious she was. She spoke one word aloud in drow as she headed toward the area with trolls.

“One.”

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Ari'aerath Dlues'athsha ~ Silver Singer with the Bow of the Sun
Clarette Feohn ~ Magic is Art.
Victoria Marrs ~ "I have an herb for that."

*Deleted*

All four whom were tended at Salandra's Temple, three of which had been asked to stay, have received their blood tests back and, those asked to stay, are let to leave freely as promised.

Eached is thanked for their cooperation and given a slip medical release slip that reads the following:

"[Name] has been tested for the Drow Plauge at the Salandran Temple and their results have come back negative.

Signed,
Weston Carter of Salandra"
And it is kept that simple being hand-written by Weston in each case seeing little reason to put more.

//The four PC's know who they are.//

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Weston Carter ~Salandran~ : Retired
Carters Leave Amia

A hunched man in tattered rags moves from tree to tree. His head hung low watching his stick hit the ground solidly with each step. A noise... in the distance. A bird perhaps or a some small rodent. He looks over stopping in his tracks. He tries to stand firm. His weight on his walking stick, his knuckles white.
He sees a woman in gold and red plate moving swiftly thru the woods. A grumpy dwarf cursing behind her as they travel. The man stands still as if a tree. His gnarled features and brown ragged robe hiding him in the dense wood. He waits til they pass and then spots the womans pack. A small object seems to fall from it to the earth. The pair move on at a great pace unaware.
He moves to it after some time and grasps it in his shaky weathered hand. Its a journal. He opens it and reads.
"Well today i was approached by a thin woman. She told me of a friend of hers that was dying. A drow friend no less. She called this man Vlos'Killian. She told me that she needs to see Angela. And that she would attack me so I would bring her to Sir Yaston, since all other attempts had failed. I asked her what she wanted of us. She said that her friend had the Wyrmling Plague. And she would start killing Triadic Knights until Sir Yaston brought Angela to her or at least the cure she said Angela had. She told me to deliver this message to Sir Yaston. And she told me she was the Imperceptor of Bane."
*next entry*
"Strange meeting today. I was in the outskirts of Cordor and two people approached me. The male spoke and i knew him to be drow. He asked if I could take a message. I said simply is this about the plague and Vlos'Killian? He regarded me a moment. His dark rich plate mail absorbing the moons light. He then spoke with a thick dark elven accent and said simply. Im Vlos'Killian. Needless to say the message was similar. But without the threats. Instead this man plead for his life and asked humbly for our aid. I told him id send word to Sir Yaston."
*next entry*
"Gegs and I were in the cave of the Yuan Ti and ran headlong into two drow in gold and black plate. Plate i recognized as the house Tennerai. They said Gegs could leave but one of them said i must talk with her. She said she had a message. Whats with the messages i thought. Do i have a beacon over my head or something. I sighed and told her to speak it. She told a similar story of plague and the search for Angela. But she told me if we didnt act soon that they would soon be infecting the surface with the plague. Looking her over i could tell i was no match for her and there were two of them. Gegnar is stout but rather than risk being gutted and dying with the message not delivered i chose to leave."
*next entry*
"Ive sat here for hours in Kohlingen looking for someone to tell this too. But nothing. I grow weary but must stay awake. Sleep threatens my every thought. But still i wait. The Messenger must deliver her message."
The old man closes the journal and tucks it in his tattered blouse and jabs his stick in the dirt moving away from the woman and the dwarf.

Old and weary, the man sits at his meager camp fire. He eats berries he managed to forage. All his old bones could conjure up. His gaze looks beyond his fire into the woods. Woods that could bring him sweet death. Death perhaps he would even welcome. His life had been full an his tale told. So he thought at least. He thought this often as he wandered the woodlands.
He reaches into his dirty blouse and withdraws a Journal. He opens it yet again. Perhaps to pass the time. Perhaps something else. He reads.
"Ive had no luck in Kohlingen. Been here for a couple days now and left word with the guard. But i must leave. I will seek out the Triad. I will deliver my message."
*Next entry*
"I was approached by three men in Cordor today. They said they sought a Knight of the Triad. I told them i was not but may be able to help. One of the men nodded and said he had been stuck with a syringe by a drow in gold and black platemail. I gasped and turned whiter than normal. Could it be happeing so fast. With my message still not delivered? How? I grabbed him quickly and spirited him away to a secluded spot. But not before Richard Eraticus managed to call out that he had the Wyrmling Plague. We moved quickly across the cobblestone street towards the Nomad. The closest place i could duck into with him and his companions. I told him i needed to take him to Sir Yaston and Kohlingen and asked if his companions were also injected. He said no. I sighed with what little relief that gave and inquired as to his name. It was Kale.
Just then Taeler and some men came busting into the Nomad asking where Kale was and who he was. He questioned the men in front of me. Asking who is Kale? They all said they had no idea but he seemed reluctant to belive them. I had to act fast so without word I opened a portal to Kohlingen. Then said here we go. The men and I managed to escape Cordor without Taeler or his men jumping into my gate."
*Next entry*
"Ive managed to get Sir Yaston and have the man in quarantine in the temple. Ive delivered my message but unforutnatley to late for this man. I will pray on this and for him. Weston has come and is taking blood samples. He spoke of a female he has in Salandran who is also injected with this syringe. Im assuming its the same drow. But who knows. Weston has moved Kale to his temple. I will sleep now"
*next entry*
"Ive spoken with Sir Yaston about my taking Kale into the portal and out of the hands of the Cordor officials. Not sure if i must turn myself into the Cordor authorites. But he didnt think it was worth merit. He wasnt a prisoner after all. And i didnt push him in the portal. But my intentions were clear and i will suffer whatever reprecutions come my way.
After meeting with Sir Yaston another man approaches me. He to is in need of the Triad. I simply ask him. Were you stuck with a syringe. I say this hoping against hope now. He says yes and where is Angela.
Ive got a sample of his blood and am taking him to Salandran and to Weston."
The old man drifts off to sleep, the jounal on his chest. His fire flickers its last breath of life before his camp goes black.