The building we emerged in was disappointingly mundane and a quick search revealed at least one crate of superior quality bladed weapons; this, it seemed, was indeed the warehouse used by the elusive Modra in his underworld trade in arms and armour. Tracks in the dust showed us that the place had been recently used, so we edged to the doors with some trepidation, to catch a glimpse of whatever exotic locale the portal had sent us to; to our surprise, we were clearly in the commercial district of Overlook! It became clear therefore that Modra was bringing his goods through the portal and storing them in this very warehouse, for onward transit to his nefarious customers. The question remained however – where did the goods originate?
With this part of the mystery still eluding us, we decided to conceal any trace of our presence as best we could and return through the portal, to continue our exploration of the underground complex beneath the Happy Beggar, convinced that we would find more of interest there.
After stepping back through the portal, a further series of twisting passages brought us to another cavern; within was a Dark Creeper lurking before a second portal device, a frustrated expression on its face; as we entered the room and fanned out around the doorway, the creature glared at us with a hate-filled expression, hissing, “Give me my key!”
The portal he stood before had a key-shaped indentation in its frame, which matched perfectly the strange brass key we had found two copies of in our earlier adventures, both of which nestled in my belt pouch ; we quickly surmised that the key must operate the portal and that being the case, the creature before us was no ordinary Dark Creeper, but Modra himself!“Go to hell Modra!” shouted Garig, charging towards him.
“Ha – Company of the Free? Company of the Dead more like!” shouted Modra, as he gestured towards the portal and was answered by the appearance of 5 insubstantial creatures of shadow; Wraiths!
No sooner had the Wraiths appeared than they began to assail us, their attacks sapping our strength and willpower and in some cases, severely limiting our ability to fight back effectively. When we were able to hit them, our weapons seemed to pass through their insubstantial forms doing very little damage; a few minutes into the battle, it became clear that Modra’s incorporeal servants had given him the upper hand.
“Give me my key and I will call off the Wraiths!” he yelled smugly, infuriating the impetuous Garig.
“Screw you Modra!” he retorted, his battle-frenzy consuming all reason.
Sensing the inevitable outcome if we continued this particular fight, I decided to capitulate and used a minor cantrip to levitate the key towards Modra, hoping against hope that he would indeed banish the Wraiths if we complied with his instruction; as the key neared him, he snatched it from the air and laughed contemptuously,
“Thank you fools; now you die!”
With that, he lunged for the portal and disappeared through it, leaving the Wraiths to finish what they had started; I felt the accusing eyes of my companions on me as my mistake became clear to everyone…
The battle was going badly for us, as the Wraiths acted almost with impunity – their attacks wearing us down whilst, despite Grogar’s best efforts to call down divine power to weaken them, our own attacks continued to have little or no effect on them.
Suddenly, Melech shouted,
“Ben – open the portal!”
Quickly realizing that I did indeed have a second key for the portal that Modra had used to escape, I rushed towards it and pressed the brass key into its proper place; the portal responded and hummed into life! It became clear to me almost immediately however that the time available to pass through was limited – it would shut down in a few seconds time!
“Everyone, through the portal!” I yelled as I stepped towards it myself and began to pass through; as I did so, my final sight was of Nalklyr, hard pressed on all sides by the foul Wraiths, crumple beneath a series of attacks and fall to the ground; as my companions maneuvered for the portal, Garig and Grogar backing each other up as they edged nearer, the resourceful Rennis disengaged from her own foe, grabbed Nalklyr’s limp body and dragged him towards the portal…
Somehow we all made it through the portal; Melech quickly administering healing to Nalklyr and getting him back on his feet.
We emerged in a strange land, like nothing we’d ever seen before. A wide plain of gray-green grass and stunted black trees spreads beneath a sky scoured by fast-moving clouds. The sun was bright above but somehow didn’t cut the darkness that draped every rock and every blade of grass in gray gloom. This, we realised, was the Shadowfell…
From the mouth of the cavern we had emerged in, a wide and well-traveled road ran in a curving line to the north. There, perhaps a quarter-mile away, was a military camp. Buildings were scattered here and there, with tents and pavilions spreading between them. Torches and fires burnt brightly against the ever-present shadow, and lone trees and tall stands of gray-green grass were whipped by a hissing wind. Looming above it all, a rise of black rock to the west was rent by a seething volcanic rift. Black-streaked lava coursed from it to descend into a narrow channel, and a permanent pall of glowing red-black smoke rose above it. Over this molten flow, a great stone bridge arched. This wide east-west road met the road north from the cavern. North of the bridge stood a tall tower with a lower building spread in its shadow.
We approached the frontier of what was clearly a mercenary camp unchallenged, and a virtual city was spread out before us. Beneath patched canvas tents stood open-air taverns, market stalls, apothecaries and herbalists, weaponsmiths and armorers, butchers and greengrocers—all doing roaring trade. A training ground opened up between the various camps, and soldiers of different races clashed against each other with sword and shield. In the quieter corners, we saw combat casters training—the flare of arcane fire dancing between them. As we approached, we noticed with surprise that these were not Shadowfell mercenaries for the most part; though Shadar-Kai and Dark Ones were well represented, the fields and camps were packed with Orcs and Hobgoblins, Ogres and Trolls, Lizardfolk and Kobolds and a dozen other monstrous races of the world.
This proved helpful, as our presence in the camp went virtually unnoticed; clearly, we were seen as yet another mercenary band come to join whatever was going on in this forbidding place. We resolved therefore to use the opportunity to gather what information we could by talking to as many denizens of the camp as were willing to speak to us.
We soon discovered that this place was known as The Umbraforge, dominion of Sarshan, a trader of great reputation and even greater wealth. The tower, foundry, and forges were his, the camps those of the mercenaries and slaves whose services he sells across the Shadowfell and the world.
Sarshan, we were able to discover, is Shadar-Kai, an outcast who had made a name for himself as the leader of a legendary mercenary band known as the Black Arrow. At their height, the Arrow put so much fear in generals and kings alike that Sarshan would take payment to fight for one group, then take a bigger payment from their foe to stand down.
We were also able to learn that Modra is known well in Umbraforge, but for all the wrong reasons now. He was one of Sarshan’s trusted lieutenants before he tried to a broker a weapons deal that Sarshan had already turned down. The job that Sarshan refused was some orc king’s raid on a Dwarven citadel; Sarshan was renowned to never make a sale if it had a chance of coming back to him, and for good reason. This job went bad, the rumours said, and people know that Modra sold the Orc his weapons; clearly this referred to the recent attempt to sack Bodrin’s Watch, an attempt that we had played a large part in thwarting, but one that had cost many lives; Modra’s account was growing increasingly overdrawn, and as we gathered information, we resolved to call in that debt…
It had also become clear to us however that Modra was a small cog in a much larger machine; this Sharshan was clearly the big player here and the source of Modra’s supply of shadowsteel weapons and armour. We knew that we were placing ourselves in grave danger by continuing our investigations right here under Sharshan’s nose, but felt compelled to get all the information we could.
Sometime during the afternoon, as we spoke with the various denizens of the mercenary camp, we came across a crowd of people watching an Ogre band going through combat drills; the massive beasts wielded a variety of unfeasibly large weapons and laid about each other with fierce abandon. As we watched, one of them turned to the crowd and roared,
“YOU THINK YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH TO FIGHT ALONGSIDE THE BONECRUSHER CLAN?!”
Predictably unable to ignore the challenge, Garig fixed the creature with a contemptuous stare and replied with a snarl,
“Oh aye.”
The ogres immediately formed up and began to maneuver towards us, intent on a fight; sensing that we risked losing face if we backed down from this challenge, we made our own moves to be ready for the Ogres – I realised with trepidation that we faced 5 of the hulking beasts, one of whom was leading a giant beetle on a chain…
The battle was quickly joined, a huge puddle of mud between us and them giving us some time to launch ranged attacks; despite their great size and strength, we were able to see off the threat with relative ease – soon enough, the Ogres lay dead or dying all around us, with little or no harm done to our group. As we sized up the spoils, I could sense the crowd eyeing us with newfound respect; clearly, Garig’s inability to let the Ogre’s challenge go unanswered had done us a favour.
As we contemplated our next move, we were approached by a Shadar-Kai witch; strikingly beautiful though she was, our previous encounters with such foes had us all tense and ready for a fight. No attack came however – instead, she cast an appraising eye over us and said, “Impressive; the Bonecrushers were no pushovers – clearly you are more skilled than the usual thugs and bashers we get around here.”As we conversed with the Witch, who we learned was called Leena, she told us more about this Sharshan’s operation in the Umbraforge; the foundry it seemed is the new jewel of Sarshan’s operations, its power coming from the fire and shadow driving its furnaces. Sarshan’s sages create beasts of battle there, born killers with magic in their blood.
It used to be that Sarshan brokered mercenaries mostly within the Shadowfell, but that, she told us, was changing. Dark Ones and Shadar-Kai are still his elite troops, but more and more, he brings creatures from the world to Umbraforge for training, then marches them off to places unknown. The Shadowfell, it seemed, is only a stopping-off place for Sharshan’s mercenaries; the witch reported seeing a force of Archons from the Elemental Chaos here not six months ago, also a githyanki from the Astral Sea. She didn’t know what job they took for Sharshan, but we all agreed that whomever got in their way is unlikely to have lived to tell the tale.
To reiterate her assertions, Leena told us that Sharshan’s mercenary operations had tripled in size in months past, but that these mercenaries did not fight in the Shadowfell; rather, when his forces are bought and sent on the march, they’re bound for portals to the world. Shadar-kai, Dark Ones, Undead, Giants, Ogres, Trolls, Gnolls, Orcs — Sharshan has the armies of two planes on the march. War, she claimed, is brewing in the Realms, but the forces that will fight it are moving into position in the Shadowfell, unseen.
Whilst it felt strange to have a cordial conversation with a Shadar-Kai, Leena proved to be personable and helpful; as we parted, she suggested we go to the slave compound and seek out a Dark Creeper named Smeakin; she felt certain that he would have further information about Modra and that as a close associate of Sharshan, we might also learn more about that intriguing individual…
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