Lore of Mhoram

[Murgleys]

I met a kindly goblin wizard named Bil.  I shared with him my need to retrieve a lost necklace and my frustration in doing it alone.  The one time I did penetrate the cavern with companions another retrieved the necklace for themself.  The party soon broke up after exiting the cave and I could not get it alone.  Bil volunteered to help, though I knew he was busy with his crafting lore.  His power was humbling.  Bil's strength of spirit reminded me much of my friend, Poo'ta.  It not only felt right but it twere as if destiny had chosen that moment for my transformation.  My music was too simple, my voice too weak, to carry on studying the lore of the minstrel.  I asked Bil if he would accept me as his apprentice.  To my delight, he accepted, and assisted my initial studies in thaumergy by gifting me with several simple scrolls.
The path I chose also seemed predestined.  I shirked the concealing and deceitful magic of illusion and focused on divining.  If I am to attain knowledge of this world and the weave then I believe it is this path I should follow.  Besides, the master may be difficult to find and someday I will find him again and bring that damned tower down around his withered corpse.

[Murgleys]

I set out to deliver the second letter for Postmaster Vale.  I rode a ship to Port Hampshire, being told it was the destination I needed.  I wandered the land a bit and came to a nearby fort.  Dyness was there with Gulnyr and Asher.  I asked for directions but to my surprise I seemed to have boarded the wrong ship.  Asher volunteered his help since he warned that my chances of finding it alone or surviving alone were nil.  As it so happened, both Dyness and Gulnyr also had letters to deliver to this same person.  Our party practically formed itself in an instant and we set off.  Another boat trip and then the trot on foot to the fort didn't seem very taxing or dangerous if one were cautious enough.  An elf ranger attacked us but Asher made quick work of him.  Asher warned us all of a griffen that inhabited the plains before the fort but none was seen.  We delivered our letters but Mr. Jansen (?) implored us to search for his missing cow.  Asher was intent on finding the griffen, however, so we ventured back to the plains.  The creature attacked behind us... I saw it swooping for Gulnyr and fired my x-bow to lure it to me before Gulnyr was struck down.  Asher still had not noticed the creature when my tactic, unfortunately, worked only too well.  I turned to flee but the force of wind from it's mighty wings knocked me to the ground.  It ripped at me as Dyness rushed to my aid.  Asher, now aware of the danger, charged but, alas, he was too far to save me from the ravages of the griffens mighty claws.  I saw Gulnyr leap to attack with Asher not far behind as I quickly glanced over my shoulder.  I scrabbled to my feet to flee but the great beast leapt upon my back and... I awoke in Hlint.  "Well," I muttered to myself, "that's one way to save boat fare."

[Murgleys]

Mhoram's past history seems to have gotten a lot of hits so I'm going to copy it here for reference to his past.  It is important to understand his vast ignorance of things since he spent his entire life confined but it also explains his innocence of bigotry having grown up in the company of a myriad of other races.
Full Name (at this time): Mhoram
Age: Several decades, not exactly known
Class: Bard (4)/Wizard(20+)/Mistone Alliance Scout(5)
Race: Human
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Subrace: Tiefling
Deity: Aragen
Bio:
I know that I had been sold into servitude when I was still a babe. The human that bought me did not become a father but the 1/2 orc wet nurse did become my mother. Soon a life of constant duties became all I knew but I was not alone.
The master kept a veritable menagerie of slaves. My best friend was a goblin. My bully was a brute minotaur guard, as cruel as he was stupid. There were many others. An imp, named Quax'xot. A half-ogre named Garudge. An elf maid named Yistolla. So many others. So many names. I have never forgotten them or their faces.
Our home was a massive, tapering tower of nine floors and no exits. The first floor was massive enough to take 10 minutes to navigate from one end to another and it's ceiling was lost in gloom whereas the 7th floor could be crossed in less than a minute and the half=giant Polpiet could barely put his hand between his head and the ceiling. There were narrow windows in the corkscrew stairs that encircled the levels, but only from the 6th floor up. The scenary changed often and it never seemed to repeat itself. At times I felt an affinity for the lands we visited and skies we saw but just as often many of us would be wracked with discomfiture by strange vistas and bizarre landscapes. Many times a new slave would join our ranks as others died. Life went on.
Our master never interacted with us and was rarely seen below the two upper floors, and never below the 7th floor. Most of our duties, mundane as they were, were delegated by an ill-tempered creature with violet skin and tentacles for a mouth. We simply called it, "Steward". It never spoke, if it could, but we all learned to obey the voice of it in our heads. Those that rebelled soon became a memory. Few rebelled.
Life wasn't bad, in truth, but I had a hunger I could not define. How much time passed, who can truly know but the master. We had no sense of time. I guess I had lived there for some few decades when the day my hunger became defined was the same day I was to replace Poo'ta, my goblin best friend, in the duty of cleaning the 8th floor, the master's study. While what I gained that day was immeasureable, what I lost was incalculable. I will never forget it. It was the last day I would ever see Poo'ta alive.
The time passed. My mother died, as did that evil brute of a minotaur, and so many others. I think now that the only constants after so many years were that illithid, the master and me. I reached a maturity and for a time even found companionship in the arms of a succubus named Shariz. She died, too, somehow. I didn't lose love, then, just a friend who for some odd reason felt more comfortable to me than the more mundane looking slaves did. There were never two of same species of slave in the tower at any time. How was I to know then that I wasn't a normal human. Didn't all humans have tails hidden away in their tunics?
The decades I would spend cleaning the masters study would eventually lead to freedom in many ways. I had already learned so many of the languages of many of my fellow slaves. I had listened to their stories and their music and began creating my own stories and songs. In truth, however, my performances were poor. Though handsome, I lacked real magnetism and being human, the same as the master, I was often held in suspicion, especially after my ascension to the 8th floor. I withdrew from the newcomer slaves and spent as much time as I could in the masters study, "cleaning".
It was the 8th floor where I learned to read. I taught myself, incredible as that sounds. I watched the master. I listened. And I deciphered some of the arcane scripts that he scattered about in his slovenly way to make my "job" more difficult. I learned the masters schedule, too. I became more aware of time and it's passage.
I discerned that it was he who shifted the tower from plane to plane, though I knew not how. He was looking for something, of that I am sure. He always summoned some creature on the tower roof after reaching a new plane. Sometimes the screams and howls of the summoned creature could be heard even on the lower floors. The others didn't know what they were, but I did. The master was man obsessed with something. He wrote prodigiously into a massive tome, a tome that always appeared to contain naught but blank pages to mine eyes.
The time of the horrible truth was the day of my freedom. My curiosity finally overruled my common sense... besides, I overheard the masters password to the deadly wards that protected the stairs to the 9th floor the "day" before. I waited until I was sure he had finished his summoning preparations on the 9th floor and had ascended to the roof to begin the rituals. The 9th floor was the smallest of all the floors but it's walls were jammed with all manner of shelves, cabinets and chests, reaching from floor to ceiling. The center of the room was dominated by a single black cauldrom flanked by two tall, golden candlelabras, an azure flame continually simmering the black soup within. As I walked around and studied the labels upon the thousands of jars, beakers, pots and vials a hand as cold as death began to grip my heart. My breath became constricted and, for the first time in my Tiefling life, I felt the wetness of tears upon my cheeks. Though my growing sorrow and fear made me tremble terribly, I opened a massive stone cabinet. The first thing to greet my eyes were the eyes of Poo'ta, his head floating in a viscous, pale-yellow fluid. A hundred such jars of varying sizes each held the same grisley truth. The realization came swiftly. We weren't his slaves. We were his living zoo of reagents for his summonings.
My fear was replaced by hatred. I was overcome by a desire for his death that I had never known. It overruled all my reason. As I crossed the floor, I grabbed one of the candlelabras from it's place and smashed it's crimson candles upon the wall as I entered the stairwell.
The roof was shockingly small, the wind from this green world fierce at that height, and the creature within the pentagram upon the roof floor horrific. But that other monster was still there, binding the horror to his will.
"YOU ... KILLED ... THEM ... AALLLLL", I screamed as I sprinted forward a half dozen steps and buried the hand-length spikes of the candlelabra into his chest. I pushed him another half dozen steps toward the tower edge when he collapsed before going over. I released my grip on the candlelabra and stepped back to watch the monster die through my tears of sorrow. But he did not. He climbed slowly to his feet before my shocked eyes and, seemingly as an afterthought, remembered to remove the heavy candlelabra from his chest. The half dozen wounds made in the monsters white silk robe did not bleed.
"You learned so much in my study, Mhoram," he spoke to me. "And you never learned that I am already dead? Such potential, young fool."
An instant after he began the incantation to destroy me, the horror he had summoned but failed to bind completely, struck. It's tentacles lashed out, enveloping the monster and reeling him in to the pentagrams center. The horrors' many mouths gibbered with glee as they simultaneously began to chew upon the monster. But I could hear laughter, too. With grim dread I backed up to the edge of the tower and the hairs of my arms raised in fear that that laughter was not the horrors, but the monsters. What happened next, I cannot be completely sure of, but the shockwave of it cast me far over the edge of the tower, into a void of wild air and clouds. As I fell I watched the tower shimmer and fade away. It felt like I fell forever, the wind stinging my face and arms, tears streaming from eyes still.
A voice came to me with a feeling of divine warmth. It told me I must continue to seek the truth. Learn and grow. Watch for it's coming again. Become powerful enough to face the monster on equal terms one day. Stop it. It will remember you as you must never forget it.
I awoke under a canopy of greens and browns. Scents I had only barely smelled before, assailed my senses with their heady, earthy aroma. Sounds I never heard both frightened me and kissed my ears with strange music. I am... alive at last.

[Murgleys]

So I came out of the inn after winning some small change playing creatures when, to my utter surprise, a short red demon, with huge horns was standing alongside the road, laughing very evilly and loudly.  It looked like something right out the legends I was told growing up in the tower.  It was Wil Magee, though.  The laugh wasn't deep enough and, besides, he was just about Wil's height.  So I trotted over to see what all the hubbub was.
Ah, I'd forgotten he was preparing a play.  It had been some time since I saw him practicing it.  He asked if I would like to participate and I leapt at the opportunity.  He gave me my costumes.  I was to be both a villager hailing huzzahs to the hero and a demon laughing evilly and doing the villains dirty work.  We practiced for some few minutes.  Since it was all unscripted, I tried a few likely lines and finally got some good ones but he wanted a MU WHA HA laugh for the demon but I thought maybe a BUWHAHAA HA might add a little variety... since there were going to be 3 demons flying about the audience and laughing.  Aralin came and pointedly criticized my evil laugh, to which I thought he could stick his comments up his bum since I had been practicing both roles for all of 5 minutes up to that point.  As if that arrogant ranger knows theatre at all.  I suppose he does plays in front of forest animals he has charmed in his spare time.  Well, I shall do as Wil desires and use the MU laugh and not the Bu laugh.  I'm sure the play will be a great success however we do it.

[Murgleys]

After my very short rehearsal with Wil, I banded together with Ardul and Frost, both female Drow, Argaito (sp?), the human cleric, and Squee, a goblin wizard, in an attempt to penetrate some of the mystery surrounding the mummy attacks that had been happening in and around Hlint.  Ardul needed to see if the mummy was wearing a particular amulet about it's neck but needed assistance in finding the mummy and repelling the undead in the forest which inhabited the forest outside of Fort Hope, where the mummy was seen most.
We met no resistance until we reached the wood outside of Fort Hope.  Inky, black bands of undead rose up from the ground many times and, at times, we seemed hard pressed.  Argaito was an invaluable companion but Ardul also fought the dead fearlessly.  Squee, Frost and I supported as best as possible, unleashing magic upon the direly failing undead and firing bolt after bolt, arrow after arrow.  I sang a few battle dirges to lend heart to my companions.  We explored the whole wood with no success and retired to Fort Hope to recoup and rethink our strategy to find the mummy.
We decided to continue the search in the wood and the surrounding area.  As we entered the wood we encountered a Dwarf single handedly battling a mass of fast moving zombies.  The Dwarf seemed capable enough and was in a frenzy, so we did not assist him.  When he had slain all that surrounded him, it happened.  A massive magic effect raised the hair upon head and arms and the mummy appeared scant feet away from me.  "RUN," yelled Argaito and we scattered like sown seeds.  The mummy pursued first one of us, then another and then chased Ardul back to the road to Hlint.  We all converged upon that exit when suddenly a host of undead rose up around Squee near the exit.  Squee fell instantly to a flurry of rotting fists and then they turned their attention to Argaito and Frost.  I rushed to help my fallen friend, but the zombies were still near to his body and surely would smite me as quickly as they did him.  He perished without my aid, his body and spirit returning to the bindstone of Hlint.  I was grieved for my cowardice and inability to assist him.  Berating myself for my failure, we continued out of the wood to the road to Hlint.  With luck, we could still save Ardul from the mummy.
We found her body not far from the wood.  Argaito immediately prayed over her still form and his healing power coursed through him into her.  Then her body simply... vanished.  Ardul was gone.  We began a search of the area for clues.  It was then that Squee returned, much to my joy and relief.  I begged his forgiveness but he seemed more stunned that I called him friend.  Poor Squee must be used to abuse in Hlint, given his kind are greatly distrusted and hated by most races.  I shall try to earn his trust and give him my friendship as much as I do my teacher, Bil.

[Murgleys]

As we, Argaito, Frost, Squee and myself, continued to search for clues, Ardul returned to us without warning and collapsed near death.  Argaito immediately brought the divine gift of his healing art to her assistance and revived her, though it was a near thing.  It took her some time to recoup and it was obvious the trauma had affected her experience to the point that she doubted the whole thing, but she told us what she could remember.
It is a story of man, trapped, apparently, by this undead that was plaguing us all.  The colors she saw and the words she heard the man speak were alike.  Cerulean and rouge, with gold.  Clouds, yes.  There was mention of clouds.  The colors of blue and red and gold with clouds seemed to mean to me a view of an alpine sunset but Ardul pointed out that was just as likely as a sunset at sea... or sunrise.  It maybe that the colors had nothing at all to do with a general location but instead defined a marker to a specific place.  I suggested that we try and find where this soul without a body died and perhaps we could lay his body to rest or resurrect him back to the land of the living.  So many possibilities.  I hope Ardul can, with perhaps some meditation, remember more clearly her experience and relate a more detailed picture of what happened.  We are still much in the dark, it seems.

[Murgleys]

I have decided to risk my life in pursuit of this mummy.  The effect it seems to have upon you when you near death in it's presence is an experience a few have already had but the hearsay information gathered thus far is vastly lacking in coherance.  I hope I can survive this test and record what I learn.  It is the only choice left to me.  Now... if only I can find this mummy before it kills again...

[Murgleys]

I asked a few of the local heroes in Hlint for help in defeating an ogre chieftan that had taken over Haven Mines today.  As it turned out, many of them were already going there to do some excavating for something or another.  What rangers want by digging for ores, I'll never understand, but they needed our help as much as we needed theirs and so a party was formed.  Leading was Path and Aralin, Taur also issued many orders since he also seemed intent on doing some mining.  Dyness, *forgot*, and I made 6.  A lovely Elf maid named Lara accompanied us earlier but the fates played us a cruel trick and we took a leap back in time.
The first level went well.  We had a good system and the ogres were easy foes.  The second floor, however, things began to take a step back.  Our capacity to heal wounds was already beginning to dwindle.  Near the entrance to the third floor a tragic setback befell us.  In our midst, as we baited these crazy, leather bound ogres from the other chamber, reinforcements arrived in dreadful numbers.  I cast a darkness in their midst and fled in the next chamber.  A massive discharge of lightening was cast by someone and took a big toll on the ogres but we were hard pressed.  Path fell, as did Dyness's bear companion, Illa, who was a great forced to be reckoned against the ogres up to that point.  At that point, both Dyness and myself urged turning back.  Our healing was nearly spent and our two best combatants had fallen in combat.  Aralin insisted, however, "We can do this" and so we had to continue down or split the party.  I know I could never escape alive at that point and so I relied on Aralin's knowledge to carry us through.  I still had hope that we might defeat the ogre chieftan myself, too, I must confess.
Our descent was marked by Aralin's use of previously unused healing spells and skills, since Dyness was near to death more than once.  Her bravery in this rather unnatural environment for her is to be commended but the tree loving rangers seemed unusually at ease in that earthy mantle.  We reached what Aralin said was the chieftan's lair.  We killed the few guards near the entrance to the chamber but Aralin and Taur both confessed that we were outmatched by the guards, mages and chief further in the cavern.  And so, out of sight of the ogres, they mined.  Taur, I believe, tried mining iron, whilst Aralin mined so much coal that he could barely walk.  What foolishness was this?  These men of the forests risked all our lives for what?  Gold?  Crafted baubles?  I was wholly incensed when I realized.  Could I help carry the fruits of my lost blood?  No, I shan't.  More and more I see the hearts of men that were once true and noble, turned corrupt with an unnatural lust for profit from his fellows or for adornments to themselves.  What spirit that moved these men to love the forest had become twisted into a perverse need for "things".
Path rejoined us at that point and saw the danger of our position at once, ordering us to return to the surface.  On the second floor, we paused before a chamber.  Aralin went scouting in and returned with a host of ogres on his heels.  Path, Aralin and Dyness held them back for some few moments before the line broke and they swarmed down the corridor.  As Aralin ran past me, I saw Dyness fall with Path rushing to her aid.  I had moments to read the scroll of darkness to stop the ogres from killing everyone.  As I finished the words and the spell took effect I fell under a half dozen blows.  I awoke, again, in Hlint, surrounded by a ghostly nimbus.
Weakened as I was, I decided to stay by the shrine in Hlint to pray for my companions well being.  Soon, however, Path's ghost materialized.  He handed over six of the lumps of coal whilst he ran to pray at his grave in the cavern... again.  Soon, Dyness and Taur and *forgot* also materialized and also left to attempt to visit their graves.
Aralin came running into town soon after, yelling not to go in the caves.  I believe he purchased some bandages and then, just a quickly, left again.  I put those lumps of coal in the bank, since their weight was too much for me to carry, especially in that weakened state.  Coal... all this death for coal.  It is as if life meant nothing to them, theirs or mine, so long as they could get their precious coal.  Again, I have to wonder what men of the forests, rangers, would truly need coal for in the first place.
As an aside, this "adventure" was marked by some questionable, in my opinion of course, roleplaying.  Afterward, I joined with 3 others for some little adventuring and starting receiving tells from both variable and loky asking me where their coal was.  Uncool, man.  Uncool.  I rather consider tells an absolute last resort.  Sorry you have to wait to actually meet me but that's life.  What was exceptionally uncouth was later when I was confronted by an irate loky ooc talking me up in front of my new friends and then, after I left in a huff, getting a tell from him ooc telling me not to talk to him or think about asking to join any party he was leading.  Yeah... no worries there, bud.