Jacrum Shieldberaker - Investigations

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The Flame of Sharlin

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// More coming //

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Alone

It was cooler here than out in the desert sun. There had been giant sign at the entrance to the cave system. Their foot prints unmistakable in the desert sand. The scent of giant wafted down the corridor. Jacrum looked at the sweat cooling on his scarred forearms. He probably didn’t smell much better, not that it bothered him. It would just take a warm draught of air from the cave entrance for the giants to notice him. Undoubtedly their noses were keener than his.

Walking forward alone he saw them. The two giants were arguing over the spoils of the recent raid, poor picking from the ant like creatures the roamed the desert. Only two giants, they would be wary of other tribes, bandits and adventures seeking to relieve them of their spoils. They would be paranoid. That gave him an idea.

ROARING like a hoard of stout Dwarven adventurers he charged the giants with the battle cry “For Vorax lads!” The startled giants immediately turned to flee, expecting a descending horde of their dire foes. The ploy work allowing the canny dwarf to extract the first blow to the slower of the two giants. “Never turn ye back in battle lad,” Jacrum taunted the brute as he pulled his axe out of the giants broad back. The dim witted brute turned back expecting to be overwhelmed, but seeing only a single dwarf it called to its fleeter footed companion for aid.

Jacrum darted back down the passage to a narrow alcove filled with low hanging stalactites and protruding stalagmites resembling a stony maw. As the first of the two giants approached he barreled forward out of the alcove his axe up and his chin down, slamming into the giants legs. The tough dwarf bounced back from the impact, but the giant faired much worse. Jacrum had been trying to trip it up, but somehow the giant held its footing. However, it was another telling blow and the giants had yet to return a counter blow.

They approached the dwarf cautiously now, the narrow opening of the alcove restricted them to facing the furious dwarf one at a time. “Never tackle a dwarf with his back to stone” Jacrum called to the giant goading it on. From this strong defensive position he was able to fend off the prods of the lead giants spear on his sturdy iron shield, and then dart forward to return sapping counterblows. The small gap at the rear of the alcove had been Jacrum’s exit route, but now the lead giant spotted it.

The lead giant was fading fast. It urged its companion to circle around and try to poke its spear through the jumble of stalactites and stalagmites that formed rear of the alcove. Its companion seeing the benefit of the plan, and eager to get involved in the fight turned to circle around the alcove. Knowing it would be difficult to use his shield to his advantage with giants prodding spears at him from front and rear, Jacrum leap forward past the lead giant. The unexpected move scored a vicious blow to the side of the second giant. However, the move left Jacrum’s back exposed and the lead giant obliging plunged his spear through the iron links of the Jacrum chain shirt and deep into the hard flesh of dwarven muscle. A short, sharp grunt of pain escaped the dwarfs lips, the knotted muscle of his back spasmed tight around the embedded spear. Jacrum twisted hard to the left tearing the spear from the giants grasp. Completing the turn, Jacrum drove the full force of his momentum through the head of his iron waraxe and deep within the now unarmed giant’s chest. The dwarven wrought iron bit deep and true, the fiery enchantment in the axe head flaring in a blast of heat. The Flame of Sharlin taking the giant.

With his companion felled the second giant screamed in fear and anger. It too had taken a grievous wound and it knew it could no-longer match the fury of its axe wielding foe. The screams of the giant echoed down the caverns as the firey waraxe beat past its weak attempts to fend off the fierce dwarf. On the second stroke of the axe the giant stumbled. At the third stroke the dwarven axe cleaved through the giants skull. The Flame of Sharlin taking another giant’s life.

The Giant fell with a thud, as its screams faded into echoes. Then Jacrum heard the heavy thud of footsteps, another giant was coming to investigate the noise. He turned to see a third giant, a Duneleaper, bearing down on him. Jacrum was fatigued now, the spear embedded in the back of his left shoulder was affecting the strength of his shield arm, sending waves of pain spasming down his back. With determination he turned to evaluate this new foe. Larger and more cunning then the Sandunner tribe, the Duneleapers shunned the use of the spear; their stone hard fists and feet being enough of a weapon for this martial tribe of brawlers.

The chant of Vorax on his lips, the thought of Brunhilde in his heart, and the Flame of Sharlin in his hands, Jacrum called upon the reservoir of strength deep within him. New strength and vitality flowed to his limbs, the fatigue of battle left and pain of the embedded-spear faded as the drum like pounding of his heart filled his ears. The memory of Varka’s words came to him 'Listen to ye 'inner strength’. Remember lad, this is the music of battle, the drums of war sounding within his blood; the prescience of the Father of Battle is flowing within.

Stepping backwards, Jacrum jammed the shaft of the spear into a wedge created by two of teeth-like stalagmites that formed the mouth of the alcove. Twisting powerfully once more he managed to wrench the spear free of his back. The pain of the crude operation, unnoticed within the rage of battle flowing in his veins. The spreading patch of blood was scarcely visible against the red mail-links of his chain shirt.

'FOR VORAX’ Jacrum roared as he raced forwards to meet the charging Duneleaper. Dwarven muscle and enchanted iron clashed with Giants stone hard fists. Jacrum took the first blow on his shield and returned with a powerful cut to the brute’s hip. The second blow he caught with his jaw, the skin split and Dwarven blood splattered into the dim light of the cavern. Jacrum’s counter blow was a wicked axe cut to the giants forearm as it carried through with the punch. With the strength of rage coursing through his blood he felt no pain. The hammering of blow for blow matched the beat of the war drums in his ears. With the presence of Vorax within him he would be victorious, even in death. The pounding rhythm of the fight was a hymn to the glory of the Father of Battles.

Then pounding stopped, the battle hymn had run its course, the giant was dead. Victory! The war drums in his ears started to fade. A mischievous thought flashed through his mind, did he remember his foot work? Looking at his battered body the answer was clearly no. A more sobering thought reached him. He needed to stitch his wounds before his 'inner strength’ faded completely. The loss of blood could be fatal. With a feverish grin he began the task of stitching and binding his wounds.

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Memories on the Path

As Jacrum sat in the gloom recovering from the recent fight, his wounds stitched and bound, he thought back to his past. As very young dwarves, he and his twin brother Gothim had been inseparable. They had been a fistful of mischief and good-natured trouble for his mother and father. In the blurred memories of distant childhood it was hard to distinguish which pranks had been his ideas and which had been his brother's. Then one day his brother was gone. Sent away to the temple of Vorax deep within the Brech Mountains, Gothim had been removed from Jacrum's life for the next five decades.

Jacrum's childhood was spent in the multi-cultural port city of Leringard. He was ignored by his industrious father Darhim and spoilt by his mother Laila. As a lonely youth with too much time on his hands in the port city he had mixed with non-dwarven youths. The docks were a rough initiation into realities of Layonara. He became part of the street-gang culture of the docks. It was there that he made some close friends with other minority youths; his friends, Clari the lovely Halfling rogue, and the sly witted Elven youth Haldamir. From these two he learnt much about, lock-picks, pranks, loyalty, brawling and friendship.

The thoughts of his misspent childhood flew forward to the confrontation with his Father. Being sent away from the influence of his friends and the coddling of his mother. He thought of the years spent in the northern port-town of Ravenswatch on the island of Krashin. These years brought both responsibilities, in working in the family trade office, and freedom from the pressures of the city. His anger and frustration had found an outlet in the simple lifestyles of the local tribes' people. It was here that he learnt the style of axe fighting favored by the tribal warriors. With his rough manners and fiery temper he was a natural with the axe.

Jacrum returned to Leringard to find his friends missing. His investigations into their disappearance led him into the dark recesses of Leningrad's under city. Again he clashed with his father, who believed Jacrum was mixing with the wrong crowd. Fiery tempers flared, and stubborn pride prevented reconciliation. Jacrum left for Hlint to search for his friends. Instead he was found by his brother. The brothers Gothim and Jarcum were once more reunited, and instantly functioned as a unit, as if the missing decades had never occurred. Jacrum wished his brother was here now. The wound in his back was starting to throb. Putting the pain out of his mind he recalled their first few days in Hlint. A smile crossed his thickly bearded face as he recalled one of their first adventures.

The brothers Gothim and Jacrum had just returned from an outing into the Hlint Crypts. Gothim had been practicing the art of enchanting, and skeleton knuckles were a vital component of this. They had been talking to a few other adventurers, about the problems with rats and goblins plaguing the town, when the Elven lady speaking to Alleina removed her hood. Jacrum was the first to notice her black skin. DARK-ELF! He cried to his brother. The dwarves scrambled for their axes and shields. Quickly Jacrum confronted the evil. Insults were hurled, Baby-Eater, Demon Spawn, Dark-Elf, while the others, who would call themselves heros did nothing. The dark-elf Alantha taunted Jacrum, assuming the dwarf was of little threat. Rage filled him and Jacrum roared and charged the incarnation of fury, fearless of the deadly Dark-Elven foe. Gothim leaped in from behind. Unnerved by the ferocity of the dwarves Alantha vanished, fleeing the town. The two brothers tumbled to a stop as their axes found only empty space. Satisifed, with their work the twin brothers rewarded themselves and their companions with a round of ales at the Wildsurge Inn. Tales of the dreadful deeds of the dark-elves were told in the warmth of the tavern; the evil that lurked in wait in the underdark could be forgotten.

Jacrum recalled that the early deeds of the brothers did not go unnoticed. A few months later, Gothim, the elder of the twins, received a letter from Varka Cleaveson, Warlord of the United Clans of bloody. The two brothers had been invited to contribute to the construction efforts, the rebuilding of the bloody gate. Months followed of work mining and gathering materials for the reconstruction. This was Jacrum's first experience of the wider Dwarven community. The reconstruction itself went smoothly, Jacrum's decades of experience in the shipping and transportation of wood, ore and metals being put to good use. As did his knack for spotting trouble makers and rogues. The warlord made a strong impression on young Jacrum. Here was strong dwarven icon, fearless and different, yet respected and well loved by his men. Varka was everywhere during the construction, offering support and encouragement to each of the differently tasked groups of dwarves. Varka paused for a small word of thanks on a job well done, and he gained the impressionable young dwarf's loyalty and admiration. Having been ignored by his father here was a figure he could look up to. Far grander in his mind was the fierce Warlord of the Bloody Gate then king Rory who sat upon the throne.

The ground of the cave was hard and cool under Jacrum's stiffening limbs. Streching his axe arm, his eye caught the flames of his enchanted iron waraxe. Jacrum recalled the hours of practice with his old battleaxe. After seeing the warlord in battle he had trained daily in the quiet of the old arena in fort Vehl. The battle priest Grohin had helped him with his training. They had met regularly in the practice grounds, to spar and discuss the Father of Battles. During one session Jacrum had even managed to knock the tough old priest to the ground in a friendly brawl. Grohin was undoubtedly impressed with the young dwarf, yet troubled by his style of fighting. Jacrum was wild and undisciplined, his methods and axe technique unsporting in honorable combat. Grohin saw potential in the big hearted Jacrum, his methods were effective if sometimes not Voraxian. He needed guidance, there will little else a formally trained warrior-priest could do.

Jacrum remembered his surprise when Warlord Varka Cleaveon appeared during one of his regular practice sessions. Varka interviewed Jacrum about his past, the relationship with his brother, his father, and his friends. It was clear to Varka that Jacrum needed to take responsibility for his own life, to stop trying to please his father, to stop walking in the shadow of his battle-priest brother. Jacrum needed to see his own worth for what he was. The canny and fierce warlord devised a test for Jacrum. 'Wealth dies. Friends die. One day you too will die. But the thing that never will die is the judgment on how you spent your life. Do you understand the question in this?' The riddle and the search for the answer allowed Jacrum to see his own worth and to take responsibility for his life. 'I make the judgement on my life.' This answer was also the answer to controlling his temper Jacrum realised. It had been a momentous day in his life when Varka accepted Jacrum as his student, to mentor him in the ways of the Battle Rager. The Kuldjargh, the Axe Idiots, it was a designation that was intended as an insult, but was now worn with pride and respect. Jacrum recalled how he had a taken responsibility for his life that day. He had made the decision to walk the path of the Kuldjargh.

The first step on the path had been the reconciliation with his Father. Knocking on his father's door had at one time seemed the hardest thing to do in the world. The Dwarven patriarch expected respect, order and efficient delivery times. His view of the world did not include affection or frivolity spent on an unexpected youngest son. Nevertheless, the decision once made had been firmly held to by Jacrum. Humbling his pride Jacrum had stepped into his fathers study and opened his heart. One bottle of Dregar whiskey later and Father and Son were reconciled; their lost years and misunderstandings melting in the warmth of their conversation.

The second step on the path was to gain some true battle experience more then just adventuring with his brother. Jacrum had signed up to the 16th Skirmishers of Fort Wayfare for three seasons. Gothim followed to keep his brother alive. Soon the call to arms came and the 16th had been sent to Alindor to boost the Wolfswoods rangers who were under-siege from increased giant activity in the forest. The numbers sent were not enough, giants overran the command unit of the 16th, slaughtering the local tribes people of the forest. Yet somehow the brothers' unit had survived in spite of the over whelming odds. Experience had been gained; the massacre of peaceful tribe-folk by the giant hordes would never be erased from Jacrum's memory. Slaughter of the weak was not glorious to the Father of Battle.

The third step had been the control of his anger. The enemies of Vorax had been simple to identify in the childish ideals of the past, goblins, orcs, bugbears, and giants. Quick to anger, at one stage Jacrum would have entertained the slaughter of these without thought, his rage burning without restraint. Then Jacrum met a goblin that didn't attack on sight, a pitiful creature with only a single ear. It had capered, groveled and begged for scraps of magic. Despite the rage burning within him at the sight of the creature Jacrum had controlled his inner flame from exploding forth. Compassion and pity for the weak had stayed his vengeful rage.

An unexpected twist in the path was the shock of love. Brunhilde. The name sparked fires deep within Jacrum's stout Dwarven heart. His memories of their first meeting flooded to his mind, relieving the pain of his throbbing shoulder. He had been a tongue tied fool on their first meeting. Yet somehow he hadn't driven her off. He remembered battling beside her, the joy within him. His inner strength had burn't far brighter that day. The passion of joy not anger had given his limbs their strength and vitality. It was still the flame of his inner strength, but its colour was different.

Jacrum stopped staring at the flames on his axe, and noticed the axe itself, The Flame of Sharlin. He had commissioned the axe from Kurgin Stormbrow, a kinsman and priest of Dorand. Six thousand true Jacrum paid for the flame enchanted iron waraxe. An entire year of regular practice enabled him to wield the waraxe with the same skill he had previously used his battleaxe with. It was an accomplishment he was proud of, it was a Dwarven axe, and it was gratifying to hold a Dwarven weapon. His quest to name the axe had not been a simple one. Again his mentor Varka had posed him a riddle to find the name for the axe, 'when she cuts the air in the rage of madness, then she will tell you her true name.' However, the answer had come from an unexpected direction.

Jacrum recalled what he knew of the story. Sharlin had been a human woman, a herbalist and mother. With her daughter she had been collecting garlic deep within the Silkwood, past the Vale of Folian. There she had been ambushed by Gnolls. She was murdered and her daughter captured and sold to slavers. Sharlin's rage had reached from beyond the grave in her quest for vengeance. For justice for those who had harmed her daughter. The enormity of her thunderous rage had stunned Jacrum. Here was the essence of the battlerager in the form of a dead human woman. With the righteousness of vengeance Sharlin's murders received bloody justice, her daughter was rescued, her spirit finding rest. Jacrum's talent for investigation had lead to the slave-bounty money being recovered and donated to the young girl's family. The story of Sharlin was etched into Jacrum's memory and her name into his waraxe. The Flame of Sharlin. The axe was named in memory of her Sharlin's passion, the love for her child, and her rage at those who did harm her child.

Rested now, Jacrum's sturdy frame had healed enough to continue. He rose looking into the depths of the cave undaunted by the path ahead. He had entered the cave eight hours ago. But he had chosen this path two years ago.

I walk the path of the kuldjargh Jacrum though to himself.

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Creatures of the Dark

The mines and caverns of Mistone and Dregar are not as safe as they used to be.  There are creatures lurking in the dark.  It started when my Brother Gothim and I were making our way out of the desert in mine in Dregar.  We were met by the brownie bumblebee.  Bee was concerned that there was someone following us.  Heading out we stumbled into traps set by a foxed face bounty hunter.  The trickster gave us a hard fight but eventually we captured it.  We tried to question it as to why it attacked us.  It just howled.  Then the dark came, a dark that even Dwarven eyes can't pierce.  In the dark moved a creature foul and unknown.  The fox face bounty hunter howled in fear.  We retreated from the darkness, taking a few wounds.  We barricaded ourselves in North Fort to question the fox creature.  It escaped its bonds and ran out into the unnatural dark of the desert night.  There it did battle with the creature of the dark.   Gothim, Bee and I entered the fray.  I was knocked to the ground and something tore my innards out.  The beast was grabbling limbs and razor sharp teeth in the guise of shadow.    Bee used its own shadow to daze it, then fire deadly enchanted arrows.  My brother stunned it with the hammer of Vorax.  Then the bounty hunter set to work with his twin blades of acid, while I hacked it its limbs with the Flame of Sharlin.  Eventually it stopped twitching.  That was the first of the beasts.  The bounty hunter told us that two more demons of shadow had escaped their abysmal home plane.

The second beast I encountered in the swamps outside of Fort Vehl.  I was travelling with kinsman Kuguar Deepvein, and a mage known as Sein.  We were on the trail of a jewel thief who had fled to the swamps when it struck us.  The fool mage didn't understand tactics and didn't follow for a retreat.  Kuguar and I went back for it.  I tried to use some fresh cougar meat as bait.  It preferred live dwarf.  Somehow I made it out of the dark and back to Fort Vehl.  There the thief was also waiting wounded.  The foolish thief charged me.  I survived and the thief lay dead.  The jewels recovered and returned.  We decided to head back for a second attempt.  Our aim was to make contact with the local woodsmen and bandits to recruit them in an attempt to defeat the beast.  We never made it that far.  The darkness appeared and so did the beast.  I charged it scoring powerful hits that only scratched its thick hide.  Then lights flashed and I was dead, killed by the mage Sein.  Kugaur's prayers to Dorand brought me back from the dead.  The mage I scared near to death for his foolish trickery.  The demon escaped

The Third encounter was in the Brech Mountains.  Gothim, Kuguar and I were returning from a trip to the temple of Vorax when we heard the terrible screech of the beast, and the sounds of battle.   Finding a crack in the walls we entered the belly of the mountain and were plunged into the terrible dark.  There were men, elves and dwarves and there were spiders and beasts of the dark.  I swung my axe hoping I hit only the beasts.  I was terribly wounded.  We raced down the twisted passages, in defence and attack.   Eventually we killed the beast.  Hack to bits under the hordes of heroes.   Then three more of the same appeared.  Many heroes died.  We dragged our fallen into the safety of a small room and barred the door.   Eventually the noises stopped and we managed to clamber out of the cave system into the safety of the light.

Light, fire, and the touch of the Gods, these are the only things the beasts respect or fear.

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Demons and Duergar
{Character Development Quest, Makashi}
{Battlerager PrC attained}

My Brother had left me a note to meet him at the temple of Vorax in Ulgrids.  We had both been busy preparing for the coming battle with the shadow beasts.  The preparations had been hard on him and he had fallen four times and each time the soul mother had taken a piece of him.  Each time he had been alone; I had not been there for him.  The undead that lurked the crypts are vital component in the enchanting of healing potions.  However they do not return to the grave without a deadly fight.

I traveled to Ulgrid with three other kinfolk, Kuguar the Hammer of Dorand, the lovely Brunhilde, and Vlanin another battlemage that Brunhilde had taken under her wing.  The trip to Ulgrid was uneventful, the yeti and ogres fell to our axes and the tricks of Brunhilde.  When she uses magic it doesn?t seem dishonorable at all.  She is fierce in her code and the purpose of her magic.  Brunhilde left before we entered the temple, she wasn?t ready to face the priests of Vorax.

My brother wasn't there.  However, the temple priest told us that we were needed in Berhelm.  The shadow beasts had been attacking the city.  We were told to meet Gammli one of the guard captain in the city to find out more about the attacks.  Gammli has lost some men, including his son to the attacks.  The dwarven scout party had headed down the hole, where the shadow demons had been coming out of, and never returned.

We had a plan, a decent supply of healing potions to throw at the demons and we knew how to move as a unit and to stand motionless to avoid detection by the shadow demons.  The plan worked.  There were hundred of the creatures down the hole.   It was tough fighting but the potions evened the odds.  We reached a gate where the shadow demons had come from, someone, or something was letting the out of the gate.  I heard the cry of one of the missing dwarves scream in pain.  Righteous anger filled me.   Strength and vitality raged through my limbs.   The beating war drum of my heart pounded in my ears.  The gate and the area around it were trapped, but I cared not.  In my rage I hacked my way through the obstacles and shrugged off the traps as gnat bites.

On the other side of the gate a horde of spiders was waiting.  I hacked for many long minutes.  My hardy frame was nearly resistant to the poison of the spiders.  Kuguar wasn?t so lucky and the poison flowed into his veins.  Kuguar fell twice; twice I revived him with healing potions.  On the third time the potion had no affect the poison was too deep into his heart.  The mage was also flagging and had to retreat.  We noticed a light being shone at us from across an underground lake.  The light was directing the spiders.  With quick thinking I threw a dust of Shadon at the light, and darkness obscured it.  Fighting grimily on I managed to defeat the last of the spiders, the poison had just started to affect me.  Quickly we turned our attention to Kuguar.  The poison had almost stopped his heart and left him in a state of death-like paralysis.  With rough measures I was able to get the his heart beating stronger again and keep him alive while the last of the healing magic was used on him.  It appeared we were finished.  We needed to rest.

Then my brother arrived.  With renewed hope and the prayers of Vorax we were able to press on.  Skirting the lake we found a fortress, a Duergar fortress.  There were bodies of the Dwarven scouting party outside.  It was time for vengeance.  We cleaved our way in. The first gray-dwarf we met was a cleric.  She fell fast to the Flame of Sharlin.  We found a prison and torture chamber.  There was one prisoner left alive, Grishin a priest of Vorax.  His hands had been horrible mutilated, the fingers smashed off with a hammer.  Grishin told of the enemies that lay ahead, some priests and a mad Duergar with a hammer.  They were summoning the Shadow-Beast from the abyss through a portal in the fortress.

The first priestess we encountered gave a fierce battle before she fled.  We reached the Hammer wielder and found that he indeed was mad, and immensely powerful.  He struck at us and taunted us.  He moved fast, hit hard and was as tough as iron.  He was toying with us, trying to anger us.  It was then that I had the realization.  The anger within me was a cold-flame strong and fierce.   It gave me strength, but through faith and will I could control it, I was able to keep my wits about me during the battle.  Then his weakness showed in his mad eyes.  He was blind!  He was sensing us with his keen ears.  As one we screamed and roared to the dwarven Gods of Battle, Vorax and Dorand.  The noise blinded his strange sight.  With the three axes of Kuguar, Gothim and I we were able to defeat him.

However the battle wasn't over.  A priest entered the room and summoned a demon on that didn?t fall to healing magic.   I ran to fell the priest while Kuguar and Gothim and Vlanin held off the demon.  The priest ran through locked doors, but I held my concentration and was able to pick the locks.  In ran at him while he was chanting a spell at a portal.  The Flame of Sharlin took him in the back disrupting the spell.  The priest imploded.  In the other room the demon vanished.  However, both Vlanin and Gothim had fallen to it.  Kuguar fetched the priest Grishin who was able to revive my brother and the trainee battle-mage.

Grishin showed us a secret room where the Duergar kept magical torches that they used to control the Shadow Demons.  We took their entire store then set fire to the fortress.  Grishin urging us along before the wizard whose minions we had just slaughter returned.  We return to Gammli to report our success.  We were treated to a fine meal.  Gothim and I were happy to be alive.  Kuguar was happy to be able to talk the ear off one of the Dwarven Defenders.  I think Vlanin was still in a state of shock at the accomplishment he had just been part of.  

I have mastered my anger in battle.  I am kuldjargh.

[stragen]

Criminal Activity

{Stand Alone Quest: Thespians at the Scamps Mug, Shadow}
 
I watched a roaring good play at the Scamps Mug last month.  A few of my friends were in the play, Vlanin, Pendar, Alleina and a few others did some fine performances. I made good sales on some nice juicy tomatoes to the audience.  Almost enough to cover my drinking money,

The bully Gork made off with the till from behind the bar.  I took the innkeeper up on a private contract and located the crook to the disreputable town of Fort Vehl.  A report of the thief was given to the local Rofirein Temple/Barracks.

{Stand Alone Quest: The Book of Ancient Corathite Evil, Shadow}

A book of ancient evil had been stolen while transported between the temple of Toran and Aeridin.  Never back the pansies in a fight.  We, Sasha, Allei, Vlanin, Pyyran, Kalin, Daralith and Lucas (Alandic) traced the stolen book to dungeon of a Lich. Daralith is an evil spider worshipping Dark-Elf and wanted criminal.   For some reason I was not allowed to cleave the Dark-Elf fiend in twain where he stood.  The mage Kalin used his foul trickery to possess my mind.  I focused my anger at Daralith and his allies in my cleaving of the undead in our path.  We reached a locked room where a Dark-Elf priestess was trapped inside.  I immediately attacked the Dark-Elf, but she spoke and again the group urged me to stay my axe.  She and Daralith conversed in their foul language.  She accused Daralith of being the traitor, while he accused her likewise.  In the end she tried of the games and attacked.  The Flame of Sharlin sunk into her body with a satisfying crunch.  The book I recovered from her body was evil incarnate.  As I threatened to burn it with my enchanted torch I noted the face of those who wished to preserve it, Lucas, Kalin and Daralith, possible friends of the Mad God.  My investigation to uncover the dark-cult on Mistone may be finding new leads.  Alleina plunged her flaming dagger into the book destroying it.  The book of Corath is dead.  His minions will follow soon.

[stragen]

Dinner at the Shieldbreakers

Looking from the kitchen doorway Laila Shieldbreaker watched her husband Darhim and her three sons, Elral the heir, Gothim the priest and Jacrum the youngest, sitting around the dinner table.  Darhim had been lecturing on the best wholesalers and miner for ore purchases.  The Shieldbreaker family business was a busy as ever.  Recently Jacrum and Gothim had started their own small shipping company under the famous Shieldbreaker name.  She worried about the boys Gothim and Jacrum.  Unlike Darhim they worked in the mines, deep and remote mines, filled with Giants, Trolls and Ogres.

Laila smiled, she had not seen Darhim this involved in the twins.  Shipping was his passion, and now that they were involved he had become involved and proud.  Darhim would give the twins plenty of advice, lectures actually, but not a single true or an inch of warehouse space.  Still he was proud of their achievement.  Laila was just happy that he and Jacrum had reconciled.  She just hoped he didn’t alienate Jacrum again with his overbearing lectures.  Her youngest son had a strong rebellious streak and was likely to do the opposite of what Darhim said if he pushed to hard.  He tended to get in trouble, but surprisingly almost always came out unscathed
 
Her gaze turned to Gothim, her lost son, the battle priest.  He was always looking out for his younger brother, getting him out of trouble.  But he almost always paid the price.  She had heard the talk; the soul mother had visited him over five times.  Vorax asked a high price of his battle priests.

[stragen]

Investigations

I have been conducting an investigation into some missing artifacts.  My clients are wealthy.  The pay is in proportion to the danger.   My contacts through the shipping and mining business have been useful.  So far my leads have led me to the heart of evil, the city that hates the righteous axe with a passion.  However they love coin and commerce.  All I have to do is bow my head and pretend to be a good little citizen.  I try to spend as little time doing so as possible.  If I were to loose my temper then all would be lost.

Shipping

Gothim, I have finally found and purchased a warehouse for the business.  We have invited Kuguar, Buddy and Vlanin to join us in this Endeavour.  The warehouse is centrally located in the Capital of Dregar.   I haven’t been able to spend as much time on the business as in the past as my other activities have taken precedence.  I still have some outstanding deliveries to make.   I had best get moving.

[stragen]

Te'Thalus

In Jacrum's notebook a detailed sketch is drawn.  The robed figure carries a flaming sword, and wears a crown upon it skeletal head.  Under the figure a name is inscribed.


Te'Thalus

A copy of the sketch is sent to Battlepriest of Vorax at the Ulgrid's Fortress along with a hand delivered letter.

High Priest of Vorax
Honorable Sir,

I have discovered the source of the Shadow Beasts that caused the trouble in the mountains several years ago.  The wizard who sent the Gray Dwarf minions against the kinfolk.  It is called Te'Thalus a lich of ancient power.   I will keep ye informed.

Axe of Vorax,

Jacrum Shieldbreaker

[stragen]

The Leaning Tower of Last

Passing through Fort Last Jacrum notices that the tower is starting to lean.  He suspects that ground water, from the source that feeds the nearby well, is causing the foundations to sag.



Jacrum stops to write a brief note for the resident.  He also slips the note and a parchment advertising his services under the door.

[stragen]

Quotation 117 Fort Last
Reinforce Tower
Repair Foundations
Material       | Qnty | Each | Total | Grand Total
Iron Bars      | 40   | 400   | 16,000 |  -
Oak Planks   | 20     | 100   | 2000    | -  
Cash Discount| (20%)   | - | -3800   | -
Granite   | at cost   | -   | 1000 | - |
Labour | 8  | 1875 per Dwarf-Week | 15000 | -
Grand Total | - | - | - | 31200
[/table]

[stragen]

A dream of twins

From the mountain height he could see a vast army gathering on the field below.  A horde of warriors had risen from the grave in a twisted parody of life.  The undead horde was lead by a humanoid figure with a golden crown, a flaming great sword and wreathed in a flowing cloak of darkness.  Te'Thalus.

He watched Te’Thalus as the lich surveyed the battlefield.  An army of heros had formed to challenge the undead horde.   Te’Thalus gaze swept the field of battle and settled on a Dwarven warrior with flame red beard, a mighty war axe and the symbol of Vorax on his shield.  Brother!

He watched as the Dwarven warrior locked gaze with Te’Thalus.  The two figures, Lich and Dwarf charged for each other.  They met with a clash of blades.  The flaming great sword severed the dwarfs head.  His brother’s body was lost in the stampede of the undead horde.
 
Jacrum awoke with a roar from the recurring nightmare.  The madness of battle fever upon him.  He swung the ever near Flame of Sharlin at the two flickering orbs of flame.  His axe connected with the glowing embers of his campfire, sending a shower of dust into the air.  Swearing fiercely he focused his thoughts waiting for the battle rage to pass.

His brother, Gothim, was no longer speaking to him.  He has told him of the dream.  He had seen it as a possible future event. The soul mother had her claws deep into his brother’s life force.  He had asked him to forsake the life of the battle-priest for that of the scholar.    They had argued with raised tempers.  In the end his brother had returned to temple at Ulgrids.  But the rift between them was great, both twins too subborn to seek forgiveness.  The loss of his brothers company had torn a hole in his soul, far greater then the soul mother ever could.  

Jacrum looked down at his axe then listen to the sounds of a forest.  His waking roar had attracted some of the forest giants, a fight was coming, something to take his mind from his troubled thoughts.