Amgine Lanif - Dragon Storm: By Tooth or By Claw

[Nehetsrev]

Quest: Dragon Storm: By Tooth or By Claw
 DM(s):  Harlas Ravelkione, Eorendil, Rowana
 RL Dates:  06/27/09 - 08/23/09 (roughly)
 In-Game Timespan:
 Satari, Febra 21, 1451 - meeting with Wintersby
They travel 2 months to the Hammerbound Foothills (fast ship and hasted travel), then split on Tunar, Apreal 10th, 1451

Group A is another 3 weeks on the road on magically enhanced forced march - Sunra, Mai 1st, 1451 - when they find the site.
They begin the Test, some leaving with the book and taking 2 weeks to wind their way out (Mulnari, Mai 16, 1451) Aerimor waiting 1.5 weeks for the group with the book, having failed the test.

Group B in Hurix arrives Wedlar, Mai 4th 1451,
They are under siege for 5 days. Mulari, Mai 9th, 1451, the reinforcements arrive.
The reinforcements spend Tunar, Mai 10th 1451 and some time after, moping up the nearby stragglers.
Mulnari, Jular 2, 1451. A group of straggling Cultists are rounded up.
Mulnari, Jular 16, 1451 - A missive is issued by the Queen.
After years of work the Hurix group is presented with Awards, Jular 20th, 1454.
 --------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 
 Febra 21, 1451
 
 Not long ago I came upon a large gathering that included a few of my fellow Angel's guild-mates, just outside the gates of Fort Vehl. Jennara, yes the famed Halfling servant of Rofirein who's lead many a restoration effort throughout disaster stricken places of the world, was there accompanied by what appeared to be a very, very large tiger. It wasn't a tiger though. In fact it was a man named Ruben who through some trick of the Al'Noth could change his form at will. I found this out after the group moved a ways away from Fort Vehl and Jennara began to address all of us gathered. Well, that and when Ruben changed back to man-form before our very eyes.
 
 The matter put before us is urgent. A journal written by some long-dead general who fought in the wars back when Bloodstone was still considered a hero has been stolen. But that's not all there is to it, of course. The journal can be used to open up some magical path, called the Path of the Claw, which calls to all those who can transform their shapes strongest, but can even draw to itself non-magical folk as myself, should we tread too near. It calls with a promise, I'm told, of the best, of un-told power ... a promise that is both truth and lie, it's said by Ruben, who gained his ability to change forms from the Path of the Claw at some previous time. He tells us that those called by the Path are forced by it to fight eachother, and that only one who is called will come out alive and transformed by the Path as he has been, into a nearly un-stoppable force that regenerates even from death.
 
 Those who stole the journal plan to use it to create such soldiers for their cause, somewhere to the north right here on the continent of Mistone. They are a group called the Green Dragon Cult, and are the same invasion force reported landing on the coast in the Battlehelm Mores. They are the same force that has taken over the Kuhl kingdom, and likely they seek to take over the world. With them travel some form of half-man, half-dragons they've also created as soldiers, that I'm told are called Drachs.
 
 I cannot sit by while this Cult is here, in the lands I am now calling home, ever building their power to subjugate and possibly destroy all I hold dear. I have agreed to help search for and recover the stolen journal, even though I know doing so I risk death, or worse. We must stop this threat before it become a greater one. I hope Amireana understands my decision. I'm sure she will. I hope more that I can return to her a whole man, the same as I now leave as.
 
 Ben's off finding us a quick ship to bear us on our way with speed. I'm writing now while I have time. My thought is that I should get to know all these with us I don't know, and fix firm in my mind the good things I see in them, as defense against the time when the Path of the Claw may bend my will to fight against them. I hope the others are doing the same, because it seems to me, it will be harder to take up arms against those one knows and respects, and we should then all turn first against the others who become foes upon the Path. Perhaps then there will be a greater chance that one among our side will win through and thus thwart the Green Dragon Cult. Perhaps then we'll have a better chance of capturing the journal, and either destroying it, or securing it from those who'd use it to do the world harm.

[Nehetsrev]

Mai 2, 1451
 
 It is over, and I have failed. There's not much more to tell than that, but in case some details should be important for the future, I'll write an account of my experiences.
 
 We traveled into the Hammerbound Peaks, the range of mountains in northern Mistone, seeking to recover the journal and prevent the Green Dragon Cult from opening the Path of the Claw again to create super-warriors for their cause. On our way, we caught word of a second army of cult followers bound toward Hurix. Some of our number left to help defend that town. Since my return I have learned that they were successful in the defense of Hurix, and helped save the lives of many.
 
 While in the mountains we were able to overtake and pass the other band of cultists. Thus we gained entry into the Path before them. It was a horrible trek, and we witnessed and caused the death of many druids in various animal forms as we set our feet to tread onward.
 
 The Path itself seemed to be opened underground, forming caverns with deep pits that tested our abilities to navigate them to the limits. A second cavern, after we stepped through another glowing portal that shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, was somehow magicly altered with many trap-like whirl-pools that would send those caught within them back further along the Path. We realized after some experiences with these whirlpools that if we stuck close to the walls of the cavern passage we could navigate onward successfully. And then we came to the next magical portal that would send us further on the Path of the Claw.
 
 Here, we encountered a druid in the form of a massive tiger. I saw a comrade being mauled by it, and leaped forward to try to save him, only to be struck down with a might blow myself. Instantly dead. In form of spirit I clung for some time to whatever bonds I had with my broken body, hoping to be restored to life to continue my duty in stopping those of the Cult.
 
 I am told that while I was dead, several of the cultists came upon the rest of our party. They had offered to let those that lived still leave, an offer that of course was refused. As the fight with them ensued, Jennara grabbed the journal from one of the cultists and ran with it. Later she returned and raised the rest of us back to life, but the cultists by then had stepped through the next portal, behind Aerimor who had also gone ahead.
 
 While the others at that point decided it was most important to get the journal safely out of the Path, I realized that the cultists who had gone ahead would certainly defeat Aerimor if he was on his own, and as well possibly win through to claim the powers the Path offered. I decided I had to go on, to try to prevent them from completing the Path, if I could, and I tried to convince others to come with me. But, they were convinced they could get out another way with the journal, and none followed after me.
 
 I stepped into the next portal alone. On its other side I found myself in yet another cavernous chamber. Much of it was filled with water, and two bridges spanned those depths. Before the bridges a stone was inscribed with the words, "There is only one true path".
 
 Looking about with more care I could see that Aerimor's distinctive dragon shape had left a clear trail, one which didn't cross either bridge, but went directly through the water to the other side. I could also see a dead druid in the form of a very large wolf laying on the lefthand bridge, pierced through by a multitude of deadly blades sprung upward from the floor of the bridge. Yet if I was to follow Aerimor I would have to either swim as he had or cross that lefthand bridge and brave it's dangerous trap. Looking into the water I could see large forms, that I guessed would measure about the same size as my own leg, swimming below and occasionally even attacking eachother.
 
 Since swimming didn't appear a wise choice with those malicious-looking fish in the water, I knew I'd have to find a way across the bridge. Thankfully, that way became clear to me rather quickly. The cavern itself provided me the key to avoiding the trap of piercing blades, a natural stone column was formed in just the right spot that with my rope and something heavy tied to it's end, I could use it to swing out over the water and around the deadly blades. And as I put my plan into action, I nearly lost my grip on the rope and fell to the other side of the blades only narrowly escaping being pierced. My heart pounded in my chest for a few moments and I studied the rest of the bridge before me while I waited for it to calm.
 
 I could see the trigger mechanism for yet another trap immediately before me, so I avoided it as I moved to set me feet upon the far shore at the end of the deadly bridge. More deadly carnage was within my view now, and flames had burned some bear-sized animal.. druid, into a blackened crisp. The entire cavern floor must have been a maze of such deadly traps, and I had no wish to be the next victim. I took note of where Aerimor's trail left the water and made my way that way, sprining some flame traps that nearly killed me along the way. But, with my potions of healing and a good supply of bandages I was abel to tend my wounds satisfactorilly before moving on. I knew once on Aerimor's path I probably wouldn't have to worry about any more traps that might have been, as they'd probably already have been sprung by his passing.
 
 So, I followed his path until it simply stopped. He must have leapt or flown fromt hat point to the shimmering portal I could see ahead, I reasoned, or the floor in the area near the portal may have been magicly covered with an illusion spell to cover his tracks and those of any others having passed that way. I tested the floor, scraping a mark upon it with the tip of my best sword, The Sandman's Adamantium Helper. The mark didn't fade or vanish, so I reasoned that the illusion I suspected didn't exist. I was on my own against any further traps...
 
 I stuck close to the wall on my left, hoping that as before with the whirlpools in the previous cavern the traps wouldn't be near the walls. I must've been right, or there may have been no more traps, because I made it safely to the portal from that point and quickly found myself transported to the next test.
 
 I froze immediately, hearing voices down the tunnel ahead of me. Looking down the tunnel as I inched forward as quietly as I could, I saw that two of the Cultists stood at the edge of a large chamber, shouting to one of their companions who had gone into it ahead of them. I heard screaming, and the floor I could see within the huge chamber beyond the cultists seemed to be moving somehow. I waited, hoping the cultists wouldn't turn around and see me there behind them, and fortunately, they didn't. A few moments mater and they both jumped into the chamber, and I watched as the 'floor' seemed to swallow them and drag them down.
 
 The way ahead clear, I stepped forward and bent to examine the inscription upon the stone placed there near the opening to the huge chamber. It read, "Just as the ocean storm does not seek to destroy you, its power cannot be denied. Turbulence and adversity are at its very core... fight it if you can."
 
 As I looked into the huge chamber beyond I could see now that the 'floor' wasn't a floor at all, but a writhing mass of tentacles. Occasionally I noticed a dead body break the surface and be carried for a short distance before being dragged back under. Above the 300 foot diameter of the chamber floor, the ceiling was lined with many stalagtites that hung down, yet far enough above to be out of easy reach. And suspended over the center of the chamber's floor by chains from the ceiling hung a platform, with the next portal dazzling over it.
 
 Instinctively I thought the inscription was hinting that one should not fight the tentacles at all, but allow themselves to be moved by them, but I didn't want to risk it if another, safer way could be found to reach the portal. I studied the stalagtites above, and wondered if my rope might serve me to cross somehow. It's length of roughly 50 feet wouldn't do to swing in one go across the 150 feet between myself and the platform in the middle, but maybe it could get me up to the stalagtites and from there I might climb from one to the next to reach my goal.
 
 So I tied a pickaxe to the length of rope and threw it up where it struck and held. But then, to my surprise, every single stalagtite in the chamber began shaking, and them broke off to fall into the tentacles below. I let go the rope lest I be drgged in, and watched for a time as the tentacles did their work and bore the stalagtites under, some occasionally surfacing here and there only to disappear again.
 
 I turned and re-read the inscription, and knew what I must do. One cannot fight an ocean storm, one can only really go with the flow and hope to live through it. So I put my faith in that hope, and in my head I also prayed that the gods would protect me, perhaps even directing most of that silent prayer to Rofirein, for certainly He'd think it just and right for me to defeat the Cultists. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the tentacles and tried my best to remain limp and pliable to their ministrations. Within the mass I could tell I was being moved about with great speed, despite the crushing constrictions and wrenching pulls on my limbs and body. Some time later, still barely conscious, I burst through into the bright multi-hued light of the portal.
 
 I found myself next in a dark place of mostly nothingness. No cavernous walls enclosed the area, only several man-made columns carved with arcane runes denoted any sort of path. They lead onward toward the glowing light of what seemed another portal ahead, but it felt as though I was finally at the end of the Path. Tending my wounds as quietly as I could, I paused for I could hear muttering from ahead, near that shimmering light. Was it Aerimor, or one of the Cultists? I didn't know from where I stood then, and I moved closer, using the pillars to hide my pressence.
 
 When I was close enough, I saw it was a man, likely a mage by the style of dress and the sound of what I heard to be arcane tongue. He hadn't noticed my pressence, and seemed to be studying the runes of the pillars while he muttered tersely to himself. I moved closer, still using the pillars to shield his view from me. I stopped, thinking to myself that perhaps if I got close enough, I could jump out to catch the mage by surprise and end him before he could get off a spell. And this is where I failed. If only I had instead focussed on the goal, and leapt for those brightly shimmering lights that called to me... The mage turned and stepped into them, and as I felt the world about me twisting and contracting, I died.
 
 I woke at my bindstone, knowing that because I didn't act quickly enough, that the Cultists now had an nearly unstoppable, unkillable champion. How many will die at this villains hands now because of my failure? I will carry the burden of it until I die and leave this world, or until he can be stopped once and for all.
 
 I am ashamed, but Amireana has reminded me that I cannot give up hope. I must become the best I can, and do whatever is in my power to bring defeat to the Green Dragon Cult.