An Air That Kills

[bonafidenubbin]

Rumors abound of a strange presence in Meranthe - a seething cloud of animate, inchoate darkness, bringing with it a glacial cold and lashing gusts of wind. Those unfortunate enough to encounter it report the touch of that wind brings with it an immense burden of sorrow and shame, resurrecting the memory of every regret the afflicted has ever known. But this entity never lingers long in one place, bringing its misery onward as it roves. 

And rove it does. Sightings range from one end of Meranthe to the other. The only place where this being has not yet been glimpsed, oddly enough, is Final Frontier.

[bonafidenubbin]

After dozens of sightings everywhere from the southern Silent Expanse to the Citadel of the Ten - including one particularly excited report naming this creature the 'Deathly Hollow' - the cloud of darkness seems to have departed as abruptly as it came.

Its last public appearance was at the Final Frontier, in the form of a truly massive stormcloud of billowing shadow that briefly overhung the city before drifting off again - dissipating into clear skies as it went.

Whether this means a solution to the problem, or merely a temporary abeyance, is just another one of the being's mysteries.

[bonafidenubbin]

After four years with no word or sighting, the strange being is back. Those who have seen it report it appears different, more powerful this time around - larger, with fiercer winds, and bringing a cold now so intense it blights the grass with frost wherever it passes. As before, however, it seems to roam the lands without pattern or meaning, appearing to terrorize passers-by in many unpredictable places.

[If an encounter is desired, contact bonafidenubbin on Discord.]

[bonafidenubbin]

Fifteen years, this time around. A generation has been born and grown nearly to adulthood since the last anyone heard of the air that kills.

There are few who might remember the stories of that wandering thing of misery and hatred, the dark cloud that moves restlessly through the wilderness, tormenting anyone and everyone it can find. Fewer still who have glimpsed it personally.

But there are enough that when the rumors start again, some may recall. Scattered, broken feathers on the snow outside the Citadel. Screams of anguish that carried across the Expanse's sands. A limping, fleeing, broken thing hiding in the trees of Gloomlight. A lover's blood, shed in sacrifice.

"they are all... with me... in Helheim..."

Some may recall.

Others will learn.

[If an encounter is desired, contact bonafidenubbin on Discord.]

[bonafidenubbin]

Flowers bloom in the darkness of the mind - closed blossoms left behind on the skin of those who have run afoul of the swirling storm. Closed blossoms that slowly unfurl, fed on guilt and watered on shame. What will happen to their bearers when their black hearts open fully to the sky?

Stronger than ever, a monstrous thing. It appears without warning. 

Several battles have already been fought, large and small. By the old shrine near what was once Sheol; in a nameless field north of old Aphros. Trees snapped like matchsticks, smoldering in the aftermath of the storm; sand fused to pitted and lumpy fulgurite underfoot.

Yet win or loss, the creature rolled on.

One call has already been made to hunt it. Will heroes join? 

For now, it roams in pursuit of its own unknown and perhaps unknowable goals.

[bonafidenubbin]

Terrified murmurs tell of pitched, titanic battles against the thing in the heart of Dal'thala itself - of unlikely allies and new powers and of a screaming that carried from one end of the city to the other.

Of a name, at last, for the thing that stalks intent on seemingly meaningless havoc and sowing its strange flowers wherever it walks:

"I am... the Q-q-q-queen of Air and Darkne-es-ss-s."

[bonafidenubbin]

A massive wayfinding circle drawn at the edge of what was once the River Parity.

A great rising of the Shadowlands' unquiet spirits, a chorus of screams rising from the throats of hundreds of the restless dead.


Eleven magi of power and conviction, tumbling away into some other realm to do battle-

And the end, at last, of the Queen's rampage around Meranthe. 



Those touched by her cursemarks will feel them wither away to nothing, a shadow lifted from hearts and minds.

Is the Nethradin truly dead, or has it merely been forced to retreat from this world? For most of those marked, it is an academic question. Whether it is dead or simply gone, the effort of these heroes has freed the land from its baleful presence. They can now heal, and leave this particular horror in the past where it belongs.

But there are those to whom the distinction is profoundly important - including the one who has never known a life without its baleful presence. Quietly, a plan begins to take shape. Loramelian will write the end to his own story. Whether or not it will be a happy one is yet to be seen.

---

[Thank you to all who participated in this event chain, and an apology to anyone who wished to be involved but that I didn't get to! This has been a very hectic few weeks of my life, but I've had a great time writing this story with y'all. 


If you still have a Sinner's Rue perm, please DM me at bonafidenubbin and I will nab it off you, or ticket to get it removed with a reference to this thread; all such perms were approved as ending with the Queen's defeat in the initial event plan.

You can also reach out if you are interested in the final event, whether or not you attended this one, but a caveat - the crew for this one will be strongly based on who Loramelian trusts to bring into such a dangerous place at his side.]