5th of Garm-mah, 641 S.C.

The Journal of Rafiq al-Rashid

As the ship skimmed through the skies, I made myself comfortable within the masses of tarpaulin and drifted into the welcome embrace of sleep. I remember dreaming of my home, of waking to the smell of fresh coffee that Nasir would always brew before leaving for the bazaar.
He was a kind soul, whereas A’isha and I would row ‘til the early hours from which I would be frequently ejected from the household, Nasir would always be the one to usher me back.

I remember waking to the sound of distant thunder and the course chafe of the ships tarpaulin. Several of my companions stood around conversing around Xo-Tang and while I couldn’t make out words, their expressions spoke volumes. I rolled over to follow their line of sight and suddenly realised their concern; huge storm clouds began to circle the skyline as far as the eye could see.

The ship descended to a lower altitude and I began to secure myself to the ship’s railings with a line of rope when 4 thuds on the ship’s deck forced my attention. The creatures were beyond anything I have ever imagined; beetle heads and wings rested upon cat-like bodies and from the tail extended a long curled barb not unlike the desert scorpion. It took several minutes to repel the nightmarish fiends and once the last corpse fell, the winds that had buffeted the ship suddenly died down to a simple breeze.

We arrived in Darvish Kupar a few hours later as the ship glided down through the sapphire waters with ease. I gathered my belongings and bode Xo-Tang farewell. It was not our proudest moment; the trail of the lamp had gone cold, the draconic library was lost, the Dead Isle remains unsanctified and Pang was no closer to learning the identity of his aggressor.

It was Raouf who first noticed the men following us. Their efforts to conceal were clumsy, unpracticed and far too direct for this time of day meaning we were obvious targets. We made efforts to disguise our numbers as the boy darted down an alley with the aims to circle up behind them. Once we were in a clear enough area, the men were confronted and revealed that they were simple messengers, sent from the Vizier himself. They handed us a parchment scroll that bore the Vizier’s personal stamp but the message within was completely blank. Vexed, we sent the men away and retired for the evening to ponder its meaning.

4th of Garm-mah, 641 S.C.

The Journal of Rafiq al-Rashid

The sun rose over the caliphate and the warm sunlight washed over us. I woke on the hard floorboards and was greeted by the hum and crackle of the ship’s power-sphere. Opening my eyes, I took just a short moment to breathe in the new day before memorising some select entries in my spellbook. It was a warm breakfast and a soft bed short of the perfect morning.

A few hours passed uneventfully, when from the bridge I heard Xo-Tang growl a sharp warning. No more than a few hundred yards and closing was a second airship, much sleeker than our own and parading a jet-black banner. You could tell by the grim expressions of our dragonborn cohort that this was not a welcome sight.

We had no more than a few minutes preparation before the pirates began to board us. They were unlike dragonborn I had seen before, green-scaled with a pair of short leathery wings. We used the ship’s size to our advantage, heaving attackers overboard almost as fast as they arrived. Soon after we dispatched the last invaders, the second ship cut loose and began to build distance. Our cheers of triumph were answered by the thundering booms of cannonfire and our ship began to lurch violently out of control.

I managed to tether myself to some decking before the ship hit the water which proved fortunate as many of my companions were flung overboard during the impact. It was then that we noticed Xo-Tang had collapsed at the helm and the ship had lost all power. It would seem that the pirates had lost interest for now but the Jandisari warned us that hunters rarely leave a wounded prey. So, we secured the ship and began to swim to the shoreline in search of whatever aid could be found.

Several minutes later I crawled onto the beach, covered in seaweed and coughing up water. Ahead, Shade had taken several steps before stopping in his tracks. After beckoning us forward, he motioned to several figures who now dotted the landscape. We were wet, exhausted and in need of aid. Knowing this was not a fight we could win, we raised our hands and walked slowly towards the natives.

It was then that I noticed that along with the warriors, women and children could be seen peeking through the undergrowth. These were not a warband, but instead just people coming out to see the commotion. Turns out that the love for street-theatre is universal after all.

The one in charge went by the name Ho, leader of the Mashavites. They were a tribe local to these islands who traded regularly with T’chin navigators who travel through from the empire. We followed them through the dense undergrowth for a couple of hours before it opened up into a vast treetop village with rope-bridges joining up the various makeshift structures.
Ho ushered us up to a particular hut to meet Riah, the tribe’s shaman. Unlike Ho, she was very pale in complexion; possibly a birth defect or the result of her shaman-esque magics, it was hard to tell. Like the others, she had a very good grasp of the common tongue but her accent was more refined, almost highborn in tone. Maybe she is not native to this island, or spent significant time away from it.

I was surprised at how accepting they were of us, Ho had brought us food and comfort and Riah asked for no compensation in brewing a remedy for Xo-Tang’s ailment. After some doses of the concoction, Xo-Tang was roused though still very weak. He motioned for Pang and began to write out a list of items that he needed to complete the mending ritual for the ship to fly again.

The first component on the list was a flower that grew on the outskirts of the village, possibly our easiest prize. The next was not so simple, the tongue of what the locals called “the pig-lizard”. The beast was about the size of a wild boar and had 2 teeth that protrude out from its bottom jaw like tusks. Establishing that taking the beast on head to head would have gotten somebody gored, Raouf began building a simple pitfall trap from poisoned wooden spikes. We then drove the beast into the trap where Shade enacted a coup-de-gras and claimed our prize.
Moss, mushrooms, blessed water and a flint from my pack were the last items on the list and it did not take long for us to gather everything we needed.

Only then did we notice the smoke that spiralled out towards the northern part of the island. The Black Scales had returned to claim their bounty and the Mashavites were being slaughtered while trying to stop them.

The battle was long and brutal, dragonborn were a new nemesis to me and they fought with the ferocity that I had come to expect from our own scaled cohort. It is a mercy that the caliphate maintains good relations with the empire as a war would likely wipe us out entirely. As for these pirates, this kind of incursion is unheard of in Darvish Kupar. It is difficult enough for our sailors to navigate the golden coast, now they must fear the azure seas as well? I fear this does not bode well for the future of my city.

When we returned to the village, Xo-Tang was in much higher spirits. The components we had brought had been transmuted into a thick golden paste. How that would repair the vessel, I did not know. The empire has been very guarded of its secrets and it is unlikely Xo-Tang would feel the will to share.

No sooner had the paste dried, the sphere began to hum again and Xo-Tang gently lifted the boat out of the water. Now we were free to continue our journey towards The City of Pearl.

3rd of Garm-mah, 641 S.C.

The Journal of Rafiq al-Rashid

It took several hours to transport the draconic library out of the hellish temple but it was worth the effort. I could not allow such artifacts to be burned alongside the Ankivari heresy. My grasp of the draconic language is simple at best, and the archives were written in a script far older than any word now spoken. It was difficult to make out much more than phrases and fragments, until Pang placed a book in my lap, opened on a page that depicted a map of this very island.
I traced our path on the map from where we landed at the southernmost point, through the forest to this temple and there in the north was a marking. A tiny circle overlapped part of the cliffs where a river flowed off into the ocean.

The books were large, too large to take with us despite my objections. So I tore the map from the book and we proceeded through the dense undergrowth towards the the northern cliffside.
After what felt like several hours, we came to the edge of the island; a sheer cliff face maybe four hundred paces high the plunged deep into the surf below. From our vantage point we were able to make out a large cave entrance that bore deep into the cliffside. We rigged up a couple or harnesses and descended down the cliff face into the cave below, entirely unprepared for what we would find.

The creatures were clad in leather, hide and chain from head to toe, their faces obscured by dark red protective eyewear. They asked no questions, nor gave any quarter and nearly overwhelmed us several times during the fight. Maggots and bile spilled from every wound we inflicted and they fought with unholy vigor. Could these creatures have been the result of the Ankivari library that rots the heart of this land? Or was there another force in play here? So many questions filled my head, but luckily we were granted a single answer. In one of the side caverns lay six large reptilian eggs, immediately recognisable as the final goal of Xo-Tang’s quest.

Spending little time with the rotting cadavers, we made our way to the cave entrance and found the Jealous Wyrm and her captain waiting for us.

2nd of Garm-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Temple of the Shaitun – the party find a temple dedicated to the demonic Shaitun within the island and a collection of priceless tomes on the T'chin Empire. Having defeated the ghostly presence within the temple and its magical protections, the party dedicate the temple to destruction after moving the tomes to a safer location outside. They find a map that indicates the possible location of the eggs in one of the tomes

1st of Garm-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Rescue by Airship – the party find much time has passed in their absence and the fey maze has changed shape in the meantime. Whilst contemplating their course of action, an airship captained by Xo Tang arrives on the island looking for the Six Dragon Eggs.

Isle of the Dead – the party having convinced Xo Tang there was no sign of the eggs on the Fey Isle are tasked with recovering the eggs on another island infested by zombies.

21st of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Smugglers' Cove – the party arrive at the cove, defeat the smugglers and learn their operation is conducted through a cave system that leads to the docks with their hidden vessels

Whispering Cave – the party enter the caves and find traps and summoned guardians. As they reach the hidden docks, the body of the pickpocket is found and the first message from the Mysterious H knife on the poor boy's chest. On the back of it is a hidden map to a small island where the party believe the Mysterious H will be waiting for them with the lamp.

Fey Isle – the party use a rowing boat to leave the smugglers cove and are picked up by the Bazaari Mossein Samedi on the "Searing Gull" dhow. They follow the map to the isle of the Fey.

Fey Maze – the party navigate the strange maze of Fey plants and pass the riddles of the gargoyle guardians before arriving at the tower at the center of the isle.



Tower of the Iron Dragon – the party enter the tower and see it is a trap laid for them by the Mysterious H who paints a message on the barred doors forecasting Raouf's doom. The party is transported into the Fey where a young gray dragon attacks them. They defeat the dragon and work out how to leave the small pocket of the Fey realm.

20th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Find the Smugglers' Cove – the party have learned from sources in the city that their best option to recover a stolen item is to retrieve it from the smugglers who will be tasked in shipping it to whoever has

bought it.

Along the Coast – the party search along the coast for the smugglers' cove

19th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Ambush in the Streets – Raouf the Hassari received a Magical Brass Oil Lamp from his father and is tasked to seek out Ali ibn-Moraki but the party is waylaid by Cult of al-Havas servants and the lamp is pickpocketed from Raouf's backpack.



Chasing the Pickpocket – the party chase the pickpocket across the city before coming to a Sukout (Thieves Guild) hide out in the docks. 


The Safehouse – the party storm the safehouse but it is set on fire by the Sukout leader. All but one of the Sukuout is killed but the sole prisoner is left to die in the fire as the party escapes into the sewers below in chase of the pickpocket.


Escape through the Sewers – the party escape the burning safehouse through the sewers but are ambushed once again by servants of al-Havas

17th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Temple of al-Havas – the party brave the dark temple and defeat its Dark One guardians and skeletal undead before meeting Hadia Idai and her undead servants in the lower level. They defeat Hadia and return to their own plane of existence having saved the city from the Cult's dark plot.

16th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Stop the Cult of al-Havas – the party return and rest in the City of Pearl before meeting with the Vazier who studies the Tome of Miriam. They learn of the Cult's plot to bring back the long dead leader Hadia

Idai.

Into the Shadow Space – the Vazier opens a portal to the Shadow space using the Tome of Miriam and the party ventures into the uncertain landscape looking for the Temple of al-Havas

12th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

Black Library – the party enter the upper level of the Ankivari Archives where a magical glyph of madness turns them against each other.

Dark Vault – passing the glyph the party enter the vault of the archives only to be faced by a venomous Abishai demon and three famine hound undead whom they defeat to recover the Tome of Miriam

8th - 11th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

Incomplete Entry

[ Search for the Ankivari Archives – the party search for the Ankivari Archives north of the city of Darvish Kapur and encounter the Black Crescent Mercenaries and a warband of the Gondehmar ogres who have camped atop the entrance to the archives. The mercenaries are enticed to attack the Gondehmar so the party can enter the archives ]

7th of Sabze-mah, 631 S.C.

The Journal of Rafiq al-Rashid

We arrived the next morning to the smell of smoke and the sound of crowds gathering. There had been a fire in the residential quarter; the Ibn-Manarghi household had been torched overnight. The word going around is that some street urchin was responsible but got caught in the blaze while trying to escape. The lump in my throat told me that this may be the very boy we dispatched for help the night before and had we not involved him, he may still be alive.

We relayed our findings to Sharif Umar who showed concern but admitted that he was already shorthanded. If this problem was to be resolved, we were the ones who needed to resolve it.

Several hours, some kind words and some greased palms later, we found ourselves standing in the white palace itself. In front of us was a desk of the finest craftsmanship, littered with various officially stamped documents and the occasional ornate trinket. Pasdari, adorned in white robes with blue and gold sashes flanked the hallway to protect the man we were here to see: Visier Freydun al-Mosar, the most powerful man in Darvish Kupar according to some circles.

We stood in silence as the wizened old man subjected the pages to some scrutiny before offering what information he could; The pages were from the fabled Tome of Miriam, which detailed much about the elemental planes and the forces within. The pages we had recovered were just a small part of the ritual and for the Caliphate to be safe, we needed to track down the remaining parts of the book before the cult could.  

6th of Sabze-mah, 641 S.C.

The Journal of Rafiq al-Rashid

The day began with a simple errand. Collect some papers, flash your smile, sign the family name and don’t cause too much trouble. Trouble. That’s what he calls fun these days. Gone is the time when we would play monkey on the rooftops or hide from teacher. Now it is all margins and profit. But he is my brother, so I picked up his books and flashed my smile. The way I saw it, I’d earned the afternoon off and he could have his books later. The famous Manzil-e-Shamar  coffee house beckoned.

They say that you can find anything in this bazaar provided you know where to look, and Shamar’s coffee house was one such treasure. I heard talks that he pays some of the dock hands to occasionally ‘lose’ a crate of the finer import, which will always find it’s way to my table with a smile and a story to tell.

But fate dictated a different tale. I will never forget the face of Hassani ibn-Manargi, as his body slumped to the floor. The moment he stepped through the door, time slowed. I could feel the weight of the table under my hand as I propelled myself forward. The distance I needed to travel felt like an eternity. And that was when I realised that I was not alone; a woman with the trappings of a bahari but the air of a Jandisari had joined the fray.
By the time we reached him, it was too late and he had succumbed to his wounds. There was little more we could do for do for Hassani but justice needed to be served.

It didn't take long for the pasdari to arrive which signalled the end of this particular performance and I found myself face to face with the city's bulldog: Sharif Umar ibn-Pasdari. We went through the usual motions of questioning and I found myself charged with tracing Hassani’s assailant. Fortunately I was not the only one in the wrong place at the wrong time as I had found myself in the company of the Jandisari and another individual who would only refer to himself as 'Shade'.

We left that scene with zeal and purpose, but that quickly petered out when our search bore little fruit. In the end, we had but one charge left: to inform his family of the bazaari's fate. It was a duty that could not be traded or negotiated and it was the one I feared the most.
You would expect then, that when we found the family home to be unoccupied, I would be relieved but something about this felt wrong. Curiously, it did not appear that we were the only ones with interest in today’s events, two other now familiar faces were already waiting by the house when we arrived; a wall of scale and hide known as Pang and a young highborn orphan boy who answers to “Raouf”. At the time we didn’t pay them much heed, it’s not unusual for such events to draw a crowd. Nevertheless, we knocked on the door and waited for a reply.

Maybe I’m not suited for the pasdari lifestyle, or maybe I prefer the subtle, patient approach. Pang, we discovered, lacks both these qualities and the door was very quickly reduced to tinder.
What we saw was a stark contrast to what we expected; three men in attire of design unlike anything I have seen sold in these city walls. Two of them were short, slightly scruffy and had faces that you’d have trouble picking out from a crowd. The third man however, was unforgettable. They say the eye is a window to the soul, but looking through those eyes, I could not see the soul of a man. It was as though the beast within had been unchained and whatever sanity had long since fled.

Once again it appears that fate has a soft spot in her heart for me. On another day, my companions may have been market-men or ship hands and this fray would have been the first and last time I rolled dice with death. But between the five of us, this beast-man was quickly overwhelmed and the other two fled deeper into the building.

Growing up, teacher always told us that a mind must be calm and controlled in order to channel the arcane energies. Not that I paid much attention, magic was something my sister excelled in. Up until now, my education was mostly squandered on party tricks and impressing girls. It was only when that door splintered and my mortality come under full scrutiny, could I feel a thousand years of arcane teachings flow through my veins. The air froze on command and fire danced to my tune, I felt more alive in those few moments than I have ever felt before.

This newfound exhilaration quickly dissipated when I came to realise the horror that we had found ourselves standing in: the ibn-Manarghi homestead had become their tomb. The features of a woman and her child could be made out from amongst the scattered debris, their faces contorted in agony. This was not the work of Hassari blades or poison. This was butchery.

I was shaken out of my daze by the booming voice of our dragonborn companion; more bodies lay out in the next room. It appeared that even the livestock could not escape this act of wrath.
Fortunately, we had not been summoned to look at more corpses, our assailants had made no effort to conceal their tracks and a path lay leading up to a small hatch which led to a lower floor.
With any luck, the men were trapped below. As it was, we did not have time to wait them out and we could not risk there being another exit, we needed to follow them.

And in retrospect, we should have realised that they too would know this. Raouf was first to fall to their trap, a machination of searing acid which turned the ladder slick. One by one we fell, the writhe form of Shade softening my landing.

After the blows had landed and the bodies had fell, we discovered the rest of the ibn-Manarghi family. The remains of 2 young boys lay discarded by the exit we feared we would find. By the smell it became very apparent that someone had broken into this house from the city sewers.

I'm no stranger to getting my hands dirty but I have certain objections to wading knee deep in cess and sewage. And yet that day something, some unseen guide compelled us to press on.

The sewers were dark, damp and frankly an experience I hope to never repeat. Navigation was practically impossible since the sewers spanned most of the city, and you were often too preoccupied with not stepping in something foul that you’d hit your head instead.
Our search brought us to a stone staircase that continued up into a room somewhere just above our heads. Voices crept down the masonry, carrying with them the incantations of a language long dead. With the voices still ringing in our ears, we ascended the stairs and put a swift yet bloody end to their ritual before it could be completed. When the dust settled and the last foe fell, I had the opportunity to fully take in the room. It was around 30 feet from wall to wall and the centre was dominated by a large stone altar. I strode up to the altar, brushing away a corpse when I heard a clatter. A finely worked staff fell from his grip, it’s surface was a polished black and it ended in a slight hook. Upon the altar itself lay an open leather folder with 2 sheets of ancient parchment. The language was completely alien but the contents we undeniably magical.

News of this subversion had to be brought before the law, to allow it to continue would rot the very heart of our city. I picked up the pages and staff and we made way for the surface, where after we send a runner boy to take news to the Sharif such that he could assess the danger with his own eyes. However, it was long past twilight and it was unlikely Umar would be available before the dawn so we took the opportunity to scrub the dross from our clothes and get a well earned nights rest.