The Lightning Scroll

Ch5, Pt I: The Shivering Isles

(4E 201)

"My Lord, grant me passage to your realm," Dexpa mumbled with his hands together in prayer.

"What did you say?" Jo'navir asked.

"I was casting a spell," Dexpa explained as a portal appeared in front Shalidor's Maze. "It'll take us to the Shivering Isles."

Vaskr barked at the appearance of the portal.

"When did you learn that?" Jo'navir asked, impressed with his brother's new ability.

"A lot has happened since we've been separated," replied Dexpa.

After stepping through the portal, they found themselves in The Fringe, but the area seemed different. The plants were flourishing, new structures and settlements were spread about, and the atmosphere felt generally brighter.

They discovered a village and wandered inside in search of people. The town was barren aside from an inn, which was well lit from within. They entered the inn, closing the door behind themselves.

"Welcome to 'The Wastrel's Purse,'" an elderly wood elf woman called from behind the counter. "The only place still kicking in this little ghost town we call 'Passwall.' Can I get you boys a drink or a bed?" She sounded uninterested in her own words, as if she was being forced to say them.

"We're from the Mania region of the Isles," Dexpa said, leaning an arm on the counter. "Has anything important happened around here recently?"

"Not recently, no," she replied. "Ever since the hero saved us from the Greymarch 200 years ago, things have really calmed down around here."

"What's the Greymarch?" Jo'navir asked.

"It's the reason those knights attacked our village," Dexpa answered. "They come at the end of every era to destroy everything on the Shivering Isles."

"There was no hero to save us from that mess," Jo'navir said. "How long has it been?"

"It's possible we're hundreds or even thousands of years in the future," Dexpa added. "The Greymarch in our time must've been from several eras ago, however many years that may be."

"I guess that would explain the landscape and the flora looking so different," Jo'navir said looking out the window of the inn. "Hey, what is that?"

Dexpa followed Jo'navir's eyes out the window, spotting the white beam of light shooting out of the ground and piercing into the skies above.

"That's our time wound," Dexpa smiled. "We need to bring the scroll there. It's our ticket back home. To our time."

"Then what are we doing?" said Jon'avir. "Let's get going."

"There's something we should do first," Dexpa said worriedly. "Let's head to the Mania region. I want to know what our village looks like now."

"Really?" Jo'navir scolded him. "What could be more important than getting home right now? To our real home."

"Remember what I said about Mo'nazar?" Dexpa reminded him. "We need to stop by the village. It could tell us something important about him."

"Huh," Jo'navir pondered. "Fine, we can check it out first."

Suddenly another dark elf woman slammed open the door, entering the room. "Hello Dredhwen!" she yelled. She was about the same age as the inn keeper.

The woman at the front desk sighed. "Hello Relmyna. Shouldn't you be out snooping around the graves for body parts? Sick old woman."

"Quiet, hag," Relmyna growled. "I couldn't help but overhear these boys are trying to get through the gates of madness."

"The what?" Jo'navir inquired.