The Book of Night

[gilshem ironstone]

I thought to re-visit the places of my youth. The caves that I called home. The hovels of Vehl. This was not to be. I made it as far as Vehl. I went to the Harpy, to the room where Mother and I hid. I sat and ate a meal of questionable quality. The banter passed around the bar, tall tales, bawdy jokes. Two Rofireinites spoke of the Undertaker outside the temple soliciting Knights of the Wyrm for a job, too macabre to be accepted. I could not help myself. The desire to rise above the ordinary gripped me. I dressed in my mail, took Father's sword and headed out the door.



I found the Undertaker, a miserable human, and he told me of walking dead, a guardian, and it's essence that he needed. I assumed he was a necromancer, but I left that matter for someone else. I prepared my fear, and descended in to the stale depths of the crypt.



The heat down there was stifling, but I pushed it out of my mind as I navigated the twisting corridors in to a seemingly endless dark. More oppressive than the heat was the silence. In the distance I could hear rumors of rattlings, scrapings, moaning, but all was still around me, until I rounded a corner. Up ahead there was a figure shambling in an unnatural way, performing some macabre dance that it seemed not to know the steps to. I stood there, watching, entranced by its waltz, when it became very still.



In a burst of movement it charged. Where before there was odd ineptitude, now there was surprising speed. I began a flourish with my sword, incorporating the gestures of a blade enchantment in to it, the arcane utterances echoing down the halls. Al'Noth flowed from my center and down my arm. My buckler became momentarily wedged in a crease of my mail, throwing off my timing, and I felt the Al'Noth diffuse out of my body. A curse and then the animated bones were upon me. I smashed my sword in to its side, shattering brittle ribs, which mattered little to it. My sword was caught, and as I tried to free, its axe bit in to my side. I fell in a heap, and barely rolled aside from an axe-strike meant for my head. I swung my sword at its leg, and cut clean through the knee joint. The skeleton tumbled to the ground, the impact shattering the centuries old bones in to a still pile.



I stood and bandaged myself. I cannot believe that I was so awkward with a spell so simple. Yes, casting in armor is difficult, but concentration and mastery are requisite if I am to find the glory our race deserves.



I continued deeper in to these cursed tombs and came to a wide chamber. Off in the distance I could hear the clambering of several forms. I made no mistake this time. As I advanced I summoned a shield of Al'Noth and my gestures were true; I felt a tide of energy encircle me and a faint shimmer appeared. The undead spotted me, if they indeed can see, and charged en masse. I tried my blade enchantment once more, and this time, the complexities of my sword flourish, and the unwieldy mail were no hindrance. Al'Noth flowed in to my blade from my body, and I was ecstatic at the force it engendered.



The first skeleton's skull was shattered by the flat of my blade, while the axes of the other three slipped off my shield of magic. I reversed and smashed another's skull with my buckler, dropping it to the ground. A clean axe blow was slowed enough by my shield to only nick me and as the skeleton drew back it's arms I followed in and smashed it's ribcage with my Al'Noth fortified blade. I met the swing of the last skeleton and our blades clinched. We were locked up high so I took a chance and freed a hand. I began casting, as the words crescendoed, the skeleton overpowered me and began to swing. The opening was filled by the flash of a magic missile which left the animate still.



Quiet once again settled over the tomb.  In the distance I spied a faint light from some distant chamber. I crept closer sweat dripping down my neck, I strained to hear something, anything, but could only hear my heart.



As I approached the portice to this room of new horror and felt the Al'Noth strengthened connection between my sword and I fade, the faint glimmer surrounding me disappeared a few moments after.



I decided to scout the chamber and as I peered in from the shadows I saw four more animates praying before a skeleton, dressed in robes.  There was rotting flesh that bore semblance to vocal organs and the unholy priest was chanting in a gurgling voice some inane sounds that surely only Corath could receive.



Incensed by their prsence I evoked a beam of cold. No metals impeded my movements, my sword was traced the lines of gesture perfectly.  I focused the  ray from the tip if my sword to the mouth of the skeletal priest, silencing it. As the flock charged I renewed my shield and the enchantment on Father's Pride and then chaos ensued. I battled out from the mass of bones and when all had settled again, they lay in pieces everywhere.  I sustained two axe wounds, and had to use a curative potion to stem the flow of blood.  I wandered around the altar room and vowed to remember the face of corruption for the coming centuries.



I descended further in to this pit of Corath and was amazed at the throngs in my path. I could recount a dozen more battles fought against shambling corpses of rot and slick-skinned perversions of the dead. Suffice it to say that I am alive and learned much of my abilities that day.



I will leave off after recounting my meeting with Guardian itself. I came to a final chamber marked with rumors of hate, a great stink emanating from the door.  I fortified my resistance, shielded myself, enchanted my blade and entered. I was hit by a wave of zombies and had to hack through them quickly as they pawed and scratched at me.



After they were cut down I surveyed the room. There was some arcane structure at the back and a figure stood in front of it, watching me. I could feel an intellect at work in this creature and my hair stood on end. U waited to see if it would act, but it merely watched. I surmised it knew why I was here and felt it wiser to wait for me, than pursue.  I knew I was short on time, my wards are not immortal, and so I charged. Just as I got to engagement range it unveiled itself and the pestlemce of the mummified wretch instantly struck me. I vomited as I swung and the weak blow bounced off of it. I recovered quickly and struck again, to little effect.  I am no fool and so I thought to run back the way I came, hoping to lose the guardian in the labyrinthine corridors.



The Pit-spawn was faster than I could imagine, I could not lose it and it could not overtake me.  I ran through a portcullis, and with hope in my heart, pulled gate down, praying the gate would lock down. The guardian came full force at the potcullis and rammed it.  The rusted metal, buckled a bit, but held.  I hoped my endeavors at armored casting would shine through as I began to evoke another ray of frost, and another, and another, and another.  I fell in to a rhythm, a still place inside of me, and the gestures I made followed the impedence of my mail, rather than battling it.  The repeated exposure to intense cold made brittle its flesh and bone.  I renewed the blade enchantment once more as the enraged undead finally battered through the gate.  My blade bit in to its weakened body and took out chunks of rot with it.  Its fists battered at my mail and shield, but I pushed through the pain and cut until the creature was silenced on the ground.  Before my eyes, it dissolved in to a fine powder.  I scraped the powder in to a pouch, bandaged my wounds and headed up to the surface.



The sunlight hitting my eyes reminded me of my first travels out of the Deep with Mother and Father years ago.  The hungry look of the Undertaker met me, and he almost begged me for the powder.  I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, my fear converting to protective rage, "I do this for you whelp, but the disease that even now makes my skin burn with fever, that is yours to deal with.  My price just doubled."



The man nodded slowly, and handed me two bags of true.  I tossed the pouch on the ground and he fell upon it, breathing the scent of it deeply, "Good, you have done good.  If you need more work, go see the doctor, Marrent."  He pointed to a shack across the wharf.  I nodded once and fought my way through the crowds.

[gilshem ironstone]

I met an acquaintance of Emerald Eyes as well, Naster.  He was much more pleasant and much less effusive.  Although there is still that lethal edge that comes from living your life in the blackness of the Deep.  My heart does go out to them, but it does require a measure of caution.  I wonder if he will ever try and contact me again.



I received a message from Flynn finally indicating that I should meet him at Stormcrest, and I should come with my mind free of spells, and no spell book.  I was surprised to find that the thought actually scared me.  It was such an important tool for my survival, and I had not been without my spell book for close to 75 years.  Flynn had not led me astray so far, and so I gave my spellbook to the bank and set on my way.



I arrived at the famous shack in a few days time, to find Flynn sitting at a fire.  He beckoned me to join him and we caught up on my progress down this path he has been leading me down.  When I mentioned the meditation he smiled and stood, drawing his greatsword, he concentrated and I could feel the Al'Noth being pulled in to the sword and all of a sudden, lightning crackled up the blade.  My heart swelled as I saw the knowledge I had spent so long seeking and here it was in front of me.



Flynn looked at me expectantly and then he commanded me to do the same.  I told him I did not have the knowledge yet.  Flynn began coercing me, telling me that I already knew, and needed to let it happen.  He told me to try my meditation.  Doubtful I closed my eyes and began to conjure patterns in my inner thoughts that would cause Al'Noth to form flames on my blade.  They were there, clear to me, as when I memorize the spells, but without those patterns in my brain, I could not feel any spark to give the patterns reality.  I did not know where the Al'Noth lay relative to my own energy.  The frustration was building as nothing happened and then I felt a searing pain in my temple.  I keeled over sideways and looked up to see Flynn grinning at me.  He had hit me with the flat of his blade and then admonished me for thinking too much.  He made me start again, and told me to let it happen, not to try and impose a reality but to let it develop.  I meditated again and I endeavored to relinquish control, drawing on the feeling I discovered in those dancing lessons when Flynn and I first started down this path.  A tingle began to develop in my body, and as soon as I concentrated on it, it began to recede.  Which resulted in another clubbing of his great blade.



I groaned and a hot rage simmered in side of me.  He told me to start again and I simply stood and began to walk away.  He grabbed me and pulled me to the ground, and told me I could attack him when once I got this right.



The hot rage boiled in me and I closed my eyes.  The patterns were much more violent and energetic this time, but all I could concentrate on was teaching this human a lesson.  I imagined my white hot blade sinking in to his ribs.  A sound of laughing woke me from this dark fantasy, and my eyes peaked open to see Flynn with a huge grin, and my blade upright in my hands, white flames coursing along its length.  I stood and slammed the flat of my blade in to his jaw.  He fell to the ground still laughing, and I advanced, and he yelled for me to stop.  I paused, and he started laughing again.  He congratulated me.  I was amazed, and then it sunk in.  I did it.  This secret I had been studying for months I had accomplished.  I asked him how and he told me to figure it out for myself.



We sat and talked for a long time after and I determined that it was the imagining of my blade in action.  My thoughts and instincts guided my knowledge to make the transformations I desired. Furthermore,non seeing how it would wield the Al'Noth that made the pathway for Al'Noth energies to enter the patterns that I conceive.  I know that it will be a long road to mastery, but I feel as if I have proven a little of the worth in the vows I have laid to my father.  For Flynn, he did not even ask for payment.  I thought him foolish, but I also thought that he was one human I could trust.

[gilshem ironstone]

The news from Prantz is startling.  I had been playing my part, letting time work in my favor, and it was all going so well.  And now the stakes have been increased a thousandfold.  I must be in touch with Naster and Emerald Eyes, we must reconsider our options as the simple plan to discredit will likely become over-shadowed by a cry for blood and vengeance.  It will take serious, hard evidence if I am to prove the ties I am claiming to Reus, of Jennara, or whomever I am put in the charge of.

I must speak to Daniel as well to discover what he saw, who he fought, perhaps gathering an idea of the houses involved.  Anything that might lead to something compelling for the followers of the Dragon.

I feel lost now, as if my purpose has been subverted.  I will lose myself in my magical studies until I can progress further.  I must also begin to gather materials for my gift to Mith'oromonde.  I hope this shall be the beginnings of a strong tie to my noble kindred.

[gilshem ironstone]

My plan to lead the Rofireinites to desirable stance against Rael has failed.  Commander Creekskipper either did not believe me or was incapable of aiding me.

I have no inspiration for another way in to the reputation of Rael.  And so I left it for a time, waiting for a more fitting time to pursue this.   Emerald Eyes if it is not on her timeline.  We are elves.  Time is always on our side.

And so I travelled.  To Fort Llast, and witnessed the race riots due to the dark elf archers trial.  If they flare up again, I will not wait for the local authorities to deal with it.  Elven honor must be defended above all.

I travelled to an abandoned castle in the Gloom Woods, and was trapped there for time out of mind.  Shadows feasted on my soul as I crawled through rubble, lit only by the light of Orn Shard.  The magic I infused in to it, my best defense against those beings from beyond.  Once I finally leapt from the ramparts, using ivy to break my fall, I landed a changed elf.  I felt colder, withdrawn almost.

I travelled deep in to the Black Dog Moors, with my kinsman Ke'Kai and a halfling where we gloriously put down marauding lizardmen.  

I travelled to the Hammerbound Peaks.  There I met a human spellsword.  At least a mimic of one.  He was skilled in spellweaving, but not a true spellsword.  For him to cast in armor was a meta-magic trick.  As simple as extending the duration of an incantation.  He knew not what I do about the artistry of armored casting.  Nor could he channel Al'Noth as I can, in to my blade as it becomes an extension of myself.  

He lead me to those same tombs that the dark elf "Duchess" lead me too.  Again I was worried of a trap, but this one was a Toranite and was true to his word.  But again I was raped in my soul by shadows.  I cannot say what lasting effect it will have on me, but I feel colder every time.  I feel less extremes than before.

Together we set off in to the mountains.  I was fascinated by his undisciplined manner.  His haphazard wizarding, his pithy remarks.  We were battered by stones from hill giants.  We plunged blades in the hearts of ettins and ogres.  We roused their multitude and had to turn back.

I rest now on the Fort Llast road.  Pondering the darkening world.  Pondering my plans for Mith'oromonde and my brothers and sisters there.  I feel less from those shadows, but I see more clearly.  I must go to court there.  Make my name.  I need a base from which to grow influence and this noble people will be the one.  I am a scion of the elven race.

[gilshem ironstone]

I have agreed to apprentice to the mage Stygian.  He seems affluent and committed to the magical crafts.  I hope his human impatience has allowed him to learn something worthwhile in his short life.

[gilshem ironstone]

I met with Naster and two of his underlings.  I must say, the dark elves are extreme in their violence.  I understand that they come from an extreme and violent circumstance, but they face it with relish.  I do admire that sort of bravery.  To accept and face one's reality unwaveringly.  I am perhaps not brazen enough to confront the conflict in my own life.  I was not with Leisa, little  of an upstart.  She speaks the tongue, but like a deformed child, and calls me weak?  I will have to put her in her place.  She cannot sit before someone of the graced blood, such as mine and speak ill of me.  Why Naster tolerates her I do not know, I will also confront that.  

I have 60,000 of the 75,000 I anticipate needing for the statue.  My brother SehKy is most generous in this regard and I look forward to seeing the work of Raz in this great endeavor of mine.

Glory to the long-lived, the pure, the wise.

[gilshem ironstone]

I have discovered the cave that Naster requested.  When I found out why he sought it, my spine shivered.  In these dangerous times, the best way to protect oneself is to strike at the vulnerabilities of your enemies.  This cave could present a major blow to the security of Rael kingdom.  I will do whatever I must to pursue this.  Any who stand in my path are an enemy, Naster included.  Preventing Naster from doing anything is unlikely, considering the power he possesses.  I must get to the plateau that  he is on if I ever truly hope to be safe from my enemies.  If I can get him to trust me, perhaps he can take me to the places where I can find such power within myself.

[gilshem ironstone]

Emerald Eyes, or Solena, has returned.  It has been odd because I have found my self feeling protective of Naster, or Ni'haer as he is actually known, in her presence.  I feel incensed that she can arrive after such a long time, and begin mettling in the affairs that Ni'haer has labored so long over.  I will say something to him, although he is too headstrong to heed me I think.

Perhaps the worst of it all is that she has marked me as a slave for The Goddess.  I fell as we sought dark elf vengeance upon a tribe of fire giants on Dregar.  The Goddess, for unfathomable reasons, saw fit to return my soul to my body with use of a bindstone, but it required a symbol of slavery to be etched in to my skin.  Now, it burns in constancy, it will not heal, it has evaded any spell to remove such a curse.  I feel as if a part of me has been taken away.  I wonder if the promise of power from Ni'haer is worth such a lofty price?

Contradiction was rife on that day.  In amongst the heaps of the fallen giants, I discovered a cloak dedicated to Az'atta.  I quickly folded it up, and kept as a memory of my mother.  Beside the cloak was a dagger, bearing poison.  All I could think of was how poetic it would be if the dagger, seemingly given by Az'atta, were plunged in to the beating heart of Solena, ending her insolence.

Such a dark thought.  I must focus.   The statue.  Revenge on Rael.  Glory to dark elves.  Glory to all elvenkind.