“For weary warriors,” said the woman Grace. She closed her eyes and raised her hand. Wiliken watched as the freshly cut wound on his arm mended, inch by inch. If this woman had healed the githzerai and his companions before explaining her presence, it likely meant one thing: she expected battle and she expected it soon.

The woman’s companion was a half-elf wizard. Wiliken had encountered the likes before. His elf side guaranteed that he could harness the awesome power of nature and his human side promised that he had an unending need to talk about just how powerful he was. But perhaps this one was different, for Dusk got right to business.

“Jenkins has been scrying your mission,” he said, but his words were not directed at Wiliken. Wiliken assumed he was speaking with Douglas, and perhaps his comrade Jean-Baptiste. “He’s been trying to break through the wards that shield this place for some time now.”

“Your friend must be some powerful wizard to combat these wards from a distance,” Wiliken said.

“Powerful,” Douglas said. “Jenkins was the only one to walk away from the scourge of the Shining City.”

Wiliken flashed back to that fateful day, battling atop a hill as the Shining City was obliterated. Nobody could have survived that blast, he thought. But if the words his tentative ally had said were true, this wizard must have been a power of the highest rank.

While they spoke, the dragon-born Morgan had continued to swing the broadsword he’d acquired from the dragon-thing’s cage at the holding pens where masses of children were currently held captive. Grace walked over to a pillar, her steps nimble and precise, as if she were dancing, and removed a key ring that had been hanging there.

“Will these help?” she asked, a grin spreading across her face.

Morgan rushed to receive the keys from Grace and went to work opening the cages. The children filed out cautiously. The githzerai knew that they still did not appear comfortable with his presence, and this made sense. His son had been their captor after all. Some saw no purpose in leaving their prisons, and this also made sense. With the advent of these keys, the children had exchanged imprisonment in a tiny cage for imprisonment in a magically shielded sports arena.

Dusk noticed the disturbance first, and then Morgan. As Dusk muttered, trying to keep calm as he recited a counter-spell, and Morgan held his aching head, Wiliken knew why Grace had healed first and brought them up to date on the rescue second. The ward had been torn once again. Orange and black flames etched elaborate designs in the ground, frightening the children who either took shelter in their cages or moved as far away from the center of the room as possible.

From the dark teleportation circles emerged several a battalion of flame beasts and dust beasts and a towering minotaur with dark eyes.

Campaign Stories continues in Wiliken 12.