Session 99

Heroes (lvl 15): Vladimir, Dafaelyn, Amani, Regall, Gunnar, Varri

676 MR - Summer

Emerging from the restored Court of Nine Ribbons, the heroes are greeted once more by Queen Llaedra — radiant, serene, and solemn. Though her city has been preserved in the Feywild only for a few decades, a storm has been growing beneath its dreamlike surface. Llaedra senses a distortion in the city’s magic — a wound she cannot explain.

She believes it is Taliesin’s doing. The sorcerer, armed with stolen fragments of ancient magic, has twisted the very soul of Lluabraight. In her own image, a reflection has been formed — but one warped by spite, grief, and rage. She does not know its name, only that it waits in the deepest chamber of the Feywild ruins: the Court of Thorns.

The heroes descend into this overgrown ruin, where shattered moonlight filters through thorned canopies and ancient music plays on spectral strings. Here, an eerie masquerade is already underway — a court of fey memories and phantoms wearing masks of forgotten selves. Each hero must choose to wear or refuse a mask — each mask a symbol of their inner weakness: fear, ambition, regret, or pride.

The court tests them not with blades, but with reflection. Ghosts of old decisions. Shadows of paths not taken. Doubts spoken aloud. The Shard of Truth they carry pulses in response, revealing lies woven into the illusions, cutting through the glamour.

At last, in the heart of the Court, she appears — the being who should not exist. A twisted echo of Queen Llaedra, birthed by Taliesin’s dark arts. She does not speak, but her hatred crackles in the air. Wreathed in lightning and spectral energy, the creature lashes out with brutal claws of light and shadow. She is no illusionist — she is raw power, fury incarnate.

The battle is fierce. She warps the terrain with surges of fey energy, tears open memory-phantoms to distract, and assaults the mind with searing bolts of moonlight-charged lightning. But the heroes endure. One by one, they anchor themselves with the Shard of Truth — grounding their resolve in memory and meaning.

As the Arch-Hag falls, she lets out a final, wordless scream — not of rage, but of pain. A spark of recognition flashes in Llaedra’s eyes as she arrives too late. She says nothing of what she sees, only lowers her gaze and weaves the echo into mist.

With the Court of Thorns dissolving around them, the way to Taliesin stands clear. The city stirs. The end approaches.