SKT: Session 29: The Eye of the All-Father

General Summary

Session XXIX — Lies Beneath the Mountain

With the wind howling across the stone teeth of the north, our heroes sheltered beneath a dome of arcane calm. Azure returned from the clouds, Uvar slung in his arms like a wounded falcon. Poison coursed through the Cleric’s blood, but time and magic dulled its bite. When his eyes opened once more, the cold temple awaited.   They crossed the threshold into the Eye of the All-Father, where two ancient stones threatened to seal them in. But no trap fell. Silence ruled the vast antechamber, lined with ledges and old magic. Murmurs echoed beyond, behind ice-bound doors, while sconces glowed faintly with conjuration—warnings in light.   Splitting briefly, the party discovered the levers controlling the entrance traps. Reunited, they passed through a southern portcullis, lifted by strength and cooperation, and entered a chamber bathed in glowing mist. There stood the towering statue of Annam the All-Father, arms outstretched toward the source of the mist. Six lesser statues ringed him—giant lords of storm, fire, frost, cloud, stone, and hill.   From behind the frozen door, voices snarled in a language none could place—except Madra, who felt the rhythm like a half-forgotten dream. Juniper’s magic pierced the veil: the leader among them, Wormblod, demanded entry to “find his daughter.”   But the truth rarely wears the name it’s given.   The party explored further, passing crumbled halls where statues whispered transmutation, and beds once carved for titanic dreamers. In the cracked wall of a ruined room, they crawled into the ice spider’s nest. There, after slaying the venomous kin that had once felled Uvar, they discovered three cocoons—one drained goat, one lifeless Dwarf, and one Uthgardt woman, barely clinging to life.   They freed her, healed her. Her name was Noori.   Noori revealed Wormblod’s lie: she was no daughter of his, merely bait to lure his tribe to treasure. The chieftain was not seeking bloodline, but plunder.   The heroes opened the gate.   Seven Uthgardt entered with Wormblod at their head, and a white wyrmling hissing at his heels. He offered Madra a token of honor—a warrior’s amulet—and asked them to leave the temple. But they refused. They had come seeking answers the Uthgardt would never understand.   Tensions snapped.   Battle erupted like a frozen storm. Noori fell first—struck down not by blade, but by the swirling light of Uvar’s magic. In the fray, Thyme and Madra fought to spare lives, but the cold mercy of war spares no one. Wormblod, unconscious and dishonored, was left to the mountain's judgment.   Madra dragged him to the cliff’s edge. No speeches. No ritual. Just a boot, a breath, and silence.   So ends the tale of Wormblod.