The World of Layonara

Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: EdTheKet on July 27, 2004, 11:48:00 AM

Title: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and scribe
Post by: EdTheKet on July 27, 2004, 11:48:00 AM
ENTRY 1
Locked up with Rev and Gotak inside a tower somewhere in broken Forest with little hope of getting out alive, Brac’ar decides this is as good at time as any to start his journal. That way, if his corpse is ever found here, people might get an idea of his exploits and perhaps even bring the journal to his parents in Shoufal.
Sitting himself down before the fireplace, wondering who lighted it in the first place, he takes out some of his still empty scrolls and starts to write.
  A couple of weeks ago something strange happened. But the way things are going here; people will soon start considering these things normal…
Anyway, a goblin ran into Hlint, shouting it needed help because its clan was being kidnapped by ‘Big Beasties’. The Goblin was from the Redlight Goblin clan, just outside of Hlint. I and my companions went to investigate and just when we got there, we were beset by fire giants! We managed to defeat them so they could not take the last group of goblins still there.
We followed the tracks they had made in order to see if we could save the rest of the clan and ended up at Ogre’s Rest and we immediately felt an evil presence. I scouted ahead being invisible and when I wanted to cross a small hill I saw him.
 
Fisterion, the Ancient Red Dragon
 
I didn’t know how fast to move back. I told my companions and we decided to eavesdrop from behind the hill. Fisterion was talking to the fire giant leader, who had to kidnap them goblins in order to keep ‘the pesky adventurers from Hlint’ occupied while Fisterion acquired an ancient artifact. After that he flew off and left his ‘right Claw’ a small red wyrmling called Flare, in charge of the giants and of getting the artifact.
We decided to charge the giants, capture Flare and make him tell where the artifact was. The first part succeeded, we defeated the giants, but Flare got away, his flight protected by a group of Orogs. Of course we did manage to free the goblins, but not without some losses on our side. Luckily, the fallen ones were restored to us.
 
We got back to Hlint to claim our reward for rescuing them goblins then pressed on to Melnon since we had spotted Orogs near a cave there before and figured this might be where Flare went.
We went into the cave and were attacked by scores of fire elementals of all shapes and sizes. What a sight they were! If only I could control one myself one day, that would indeed be mastery of fire!
We fought our way to the bottom of the cave, where we found Flare, digging around in some rock pile. We figured this was the resting place of the artifact (and we turned out to be right). However, Flare was under some powerful protection, as we could not touch him. Luckily Gotak had the idea of dousing the braziers Flare was in the process of setting up, I suspect that if he had succeeded in getting them all up he would have escaped with the artifact. Now he just fled, without the artifact which was picked up by Wilson, leaving magma golems in his wake. This was even a grander fight! They kept on coming until we managed to douse the last of the braziers. Then Fisterion's voice echoed through the cave shouting we would all perish in there.
 
Lava started boiling up from the floor and we ran to the exit. We barely made it out alive!
Now we could finally take our time studying the artifact. Wilson was reluctant in handing it over to me for study, he appear to be obsessed by it! I sensed it was an ancient amulet of Cold Resistance, one whose powers would be greatly enhanced if it was worn by a dragon. Obviously, none of us could keep it, that would be a certain death sentence, Fisterion would only have to wait until that person was alone, swoop from the sky and take it and then one of his weaknesses would be completely negated. We could not allow that to happen.
 
So I had to destroy the amulet using Fire. Wilson was getting extremely agitated and kept shouting he wanted it back, that he needed it… I turned invisible and ran away so he could not follow me and I could destroy the Amulet.
 
Casting my fiery magic at the amulet, from a safe distance of course, I managed to blow it up. An immense explosion of Ice and Fire ensued, luckily nobody was hurt. In the middle of this onslaught a Protector Fire Elemental appeared, which was probably what gave the amulet its power. We managed to defeat this one as well, what a mighty foe that was! I wish I some day will have the strength to command these creatures of Flame… 
  *He puts down his quill and stares into the flames for a while*
  Anyway, Wilson had lost his obsession after the artifact was destroyed. I am still not clear if he was under the sway of the amulet itself, or if Fisterion was somehow influencing him in order to be able to take the amulet from Wilson after he was alone. I guess we’ll never know, but I am happy that he turned back to the way he was.
 
I am still wondering if I made a good choice in destroying it, since this must have seriously foiled Fisterion’s plans. I was continuously looking at the sky for days to see if he didn’t sweep down from the sky and burn me on the spot as revenge.
 
Not that that matters now that I am locked inside this tower. We’ll probably starve in here… *He chuckles as he writes the last sentence* At least there is this fire to keep us company.


//this all took place in November 2003, but the previous journal is not on these forums anymore so posting it again
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on July 27, 2004, 12:15:00 PM
ENTRY 2
A day passes, without them having found a way out of the tower, kindling the fire some more, Brac’ar continues his journal.
  I feel I should commit this to paper as well, else valuable information may be gone should I encounter some unpleasant faith… like Fisterion getting his revenge for the destruction of that amulet. Anyway, weeks and weeks ago, even before the artifact incident, there were some troubles with caravans going to and from Fort Velensk in the south, and I joined a party to accompany and protect one of the latest caravans.
During the journey, we were beset by numerous enemies, fortunately, we were able to defeat them all. The caravan cart that we were supposed to protect was destroyed during the journey, but we managed to carry all the cargo to its destination at Fort Velensk. After this ordeal, we decided to stay in Fort Velensk a while before heading back to Hlint. One morning, I was up rather early, my other companions were still fast asleep, I decided to enjoy the dawn and approached by the captain of the Guards at Fort Velensk. He had sent out a spy, Shael, to follow the iron golems which had appeared outside of the North Gates of the Fort during the night. However, she had not returned yet.
So I went out to follow one of the Iron Golems under cover of my invisibility spells to see where the trail led. I admit, I am no ranger, but I can tell the tracks of some Iron Golems from those of normal tracks. The tracks led up to the Gnoll Watch Tower, where I heard a terrifying scream when I entered the area. Without further thought, I charged through the palisade, past some Golems and some kind of floating armors, hoping I would not be too late.
I was stopped by a spellcaster, who told me in a matter-of-fact way that I was to late. Shael had been killed. He then tried to kill me to using his foul magics but fortunately for me, my magic defenses held. I tried to set him aflame, however, to no avail; he just laughed and called in the Golems and the floating armors.

  I ran.

  However, the armors came after me and managed to strike me down while I was just preparing to shoot the flare the Captain had given me to call in reinforcements. (Note to self: next time don’t be so stubborn and use it when you’re outnumbered by golems four to one). The flare went off just when one of them armors struck the killing blow… The reinforcements arrived before the floating armors and the golems could have cut my body to pieces and they managed to raise me. They decided to clear the Tower, while I returned to Fort Velensk to report of my… failure.

  *He sighs as he writes down the last word and thinks back of his time in his hometown. He stares into the flames some more “Shoufal, Shoufal, jewel in the crown of Berhagen… I wish...” but before he can continue he gets interrupted by Gotak bashing some shadows who try to enter the barricaded room. Dipping his quill in some ink again Brac'ar continues*
By the time my companions had woken up, the reinforcements had not returned. Finally, one of the, badly wounded and his tongue cut out, managed to find his way back to the gates. He was the only survivor it seemed. He indicated by writing that an army of Golems was being constructed.

  Of course the ones responsible had to be found. It turned out that the bandits had made a huge camp northeast of Fort Velensk, near the pass to Shoufal of all places! The plan was that Reggub and Gotak would sneak into the camp and blow up the catapults defending it, allowing us to charge.  This almost worked, they managed to destroy the catapults, but also set off the alarm. We charged anyway. A fierce battle ensued, one of the largest I have ever seen, several of my companions fell, but in the end we prevailed and even managed to kill their leader. However, during the battle, we saw a female drow escape from the leader’s tent and we were not able to stop her…

   We went off north towards the Gnoll Tower to investigate and were attacked along the way by numerous Golems and other constructs. After going through a cavernous tunnel we ended up in the Blood Desert where the number of golems was even bigger. We fought and we battled, against golems and spellcasters and in the end we  were afced with two options. Retreat or die. Gotak had fallen, most of use were the worse for wear and could barely manage to hold our weapons. My spell reserves were completely depleted.

   We retreated.

   Later I heard that some organization called the Dark Defense was all behind it probably an organization backed up or sponsored by the drow. They managed to tunnel into Port Hampshire, but luckily some other party managed to stop them from entering the city.
At least at that moment. Some weeks later, me and some companions were in Port Hampshire and were approached by somebody named Piwiel. We were supposed to go to the docks, pretending that some ship carrying important weapons was coming in. This in order to lure out those who were probably in league with the Dark Defense. However, while we were waiting and waiting, nobody came.  I ran back to Piwiel who turned out to be murdered. By scorpion poison it turned out. After careful searching we found another secret tunnel leading into Underdark. It turned out that the drow had dug two tunnels!

   Fighting our way deeper and deeper into Underdark, we finally came upon a large cavern filled with scorpions. Battle raged. In the end the only ones of our company who were still standing, albeit barely, were Reventage, myself and some hooded man. If a man he was. When he was running off into a tunnel somehow several giant scorpions appeared to cover his retreat. There is no way they could have walked through the tunnels to the cavern, so how they got there is still a mystery. With our last strength we managed to defeat them and then a booming voice echoed through the cave “You may have won this battle, but the Scorpions will return.”

   Reventage managed to raise the fallen and we returned to the surface. I did not hear of the Dark Defense again, but I cannot shae the feeling that they have been totally annihilated with that ‘man’ still loose...  A couple of hours later, another party came upon the tower, among them Nathan Birche and Quintayne Rosewyne, arrived at the tower and together they managed to get out.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on July 27, 2004, 12:23:00 PM
ENTRY 3
Shaken, Brac'ar enters his inn room. After staring into the flames of his fireplace for a while he composes himself and takes out his almost forgotten journal.
Had the scare of my life today...
  My good friend Xiao Lin and I were on our way to Sielwood when we saw a halfling woman going into the woods as well. She was attacked by Grizzlies but we managed to save her. It turned out she was from Rambleshackle, some unheard of village near Far Reach somewhere, which had run out of grain after their fields had been ravaged by some creature. So she was on her way to Hlint to buy more grain.
   Xiao and I offered to accompany her and see what kind of creature was responsible. We met up with Kirianna and Gotak and set out, after the little halfling had bought some grain from Perum. She whispered something to Perum about the field being scorched, something which she had witheld from us... This roused my suspicion, since she hadn’t told us this before.
   On the road, we encountered a small red wyrm. However, before we could vanquish it, it magically disappeared after the halfling told it to be gone. This increased my suspicion even further, why would these small wyrms obey her command? During our trip I continued to question her about the fields and she admitted they’d been scorched. Probably by the people from the village who tried to scare of the wolves… Wolves that nobody had seen of course, and which she only had suspicions about.
   When we were near Fort Llast she told us she knew a shortcut and led us north into the swamp where we were attacked by more of them small red wyrmlings, which we easily defeated. However, something was not right. All signs pointed to a great dragon being in that area very recently. So we confronted her and she suddenly vanished!! Then Xiao heard something from above… A giant red dragon was hovering in the air above us!
   Indeed, it was Fisterion.
   Still alive, still menacing and toying with us. I am sure he could have killed us on the spot, had he wanted too, I am not sure if he recognized me as the one that destroyed that ancient amulet of cold resistance he was after a couple of months back. He must have recognized me, but perhaps he’s saving me for some gruesome fate later.
   Anyway, all he wanted was give us a warning: He was still there, and we’d see more of him soon…
I do not doubt Fisterion's words.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on August 23, 2004, 03:24:00 AM
ENTRY 4 I find my tailoring skills increasing by the day. I have gone into a partnership with Xiao and we're now producing lion bags, of course Xiao's a far better tailor then I'll ever be, but then again, I have also picked up the art of scribing.  Took me a while to not get the scrolls scorched when scribing fire spells, but I think I've got it under control now.
  *chuckles as he points a finger to the lantern at his desk and launches a tiny fireball at it, thus lighting it*
  Anyway, my scribing is also progressing nicely, who knows I may even start to earn a living from it and eventually buy a tower in ....
  *sighing at what he's about to write down he closes his journal and stares into the night for a while. Shaking his head, he continues.*
  Anyway, a couple of weeks ago something strange happened as well. I encountered a dragon who called me "Descendant of Flame" when I told him I was just my parent's son, he told me "Exactly" and flew off. Not sure what, if anything, it means though.
    (around January 2004 more or less)
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on August 23, 2004, 06:13:00 AM
ENTRY 5
  *exhausted, Brac'ar enters his room at the Wild Surge and collapses on his bed. A couple of hours later, he wakes up and starts writing in his journal*
  Well, today has been yet another eventful day. Some woman asked Gotak, Rufus and myself to babysit her kid while she went to the market, when all of a sudden harpies swept down from above, kidnapping the girl.
  We followed them to the Broken Swamp, where a pixie halted us saying something bad was afoot, as if we hadn't figured that out already. All the pixie's sisters had been trapped, and even from afar I could feel the emanations of some kind of rift.
  It turned out the rift was leading to some other plane and that malicious creatures, the harpies among them, used it to enter the world. We went ahead to investigate and fought our way through scores of creatures, until we arrived at the portal. However, in front of the portal was the stuff of legends, a bebilith. A foul spider-like demon that hunts other demons and eats them. It took quick care of Rufus, Gotak and I retreated and after coming up with a plan we managed to vanquish it.
  *Brac'ar looks up from writing as he remembers one of the toughest fights in his life and takes a long sip from his canteen*
  As there was nothing we could do for Rufus, we pressed on and tried to close the rift, but it was too much magic for a single mage to handle.
  *He chuckles when he thinks of Gotak trying to slash it apart with his axe.*
  Then we noticed tiny shapes hidden within the webs the bebilith had spun, it turned out to be the trapped pixies! We freed them and working together, they managed to close the rift. Using their powers, they also managed to bring Rufus back to life. Unfortunately for him, there was not much they could do to the horrid scar on his arm, he'll probably bear it for the rest of his life.
  With the rift closed, we could move north again and located the girl, tied up by the harpies on a piece of rock. We managed to dispose of all of the harpies and re-unite the girl with her mother in Hlint.
  I swear, that'll be the last babysitting I do for a long time!
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on August 23, 2004, 06:16:00 AM
ENTRY 6
  this page of Brac'ar's journal is very scorched at the edges, more so than the other pages*
  It has now been two weeks since Plenarius walked up to me while I was scribing and asked "Did you hear about Gotak?". I could hear from the sound of his voice that something was wrong... very wrong.
  My friend, Gotak Gungur, is no more.
  Torn from this plane by foul magic when battling slaad, he died in battle, and I hope he now has joined Vorax in his Hall of Warriors. Never again will we explore forgotten dungeons. Never again will he rush into battle in front of me, chasing one of my fireballs, and jumping into the fray while our enemies were still writhing in flame. Never again will he disarm traps the Gotak way. Never again will we talk of our travels in the comforts of an inn. Never again can I whack him in the head with my staff if he tried to solve some magic mystery with his axe.
  I still half expect him to be beside me if I turn my head, it will take getting used to not having him there.
  Goodbye old friend, you will be missed, but not forgotten.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on September 11, 2004, 05:58:00 AM
ENTRY 7
  The last couple of weeks, I joined several memebers of the High Council in their search for a lost library somewhere in the Berhagen mountains. It was a long and harsh trek, and we were beset by numerous monsters along the way.
  Eventually, we arrived at the foothills of the Berhagen Mountains, and I knew that something I could not avoid was about to happen... I'd see my home town again. I told my fellow travellers I'd be entering the city invisible, but without telling them why. I simply cannot afford to be seen by some of my old friends, or even my parents.... The shame would be unbearable.  Although I had wanted otherwise, I stayed in town for as short as I could, barely taking time to get a view of the Temple of Dorand and utter a short prayer towards it. I did not dare go close to my dad's smithy... We left town soon and continued our search, to end up in front of a collapsed passage which Ozy claimed to be the entrance to the lost library. There was no way we could continue so we eventually returned to Hlint.  Putting down his quill, Brac'ar stares out of the window, whispering:
  "Ah, Shoufal, Gem in the crown of Berhagen, how I would like to be able to walk your streets again unashamed."
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on September 18, 2004, 01:13:00 PM
ENTRY 8
  Well, I've spent enough time in Kheldell library for now, there's hardly not a book left on magic that I haven't read there in the past couple of months I was there. They gave me an ultimatum, leave or become a librarian! Anyway, I never managed to find that secret compartment Ozymandias told me about, even though I did search quite thoroughly. I'll be sure to take his next claim with a grain of salt. As for the library itself, it hardly compares to the one at the Academy of Magic in Port Hampshire, but one's got to make do. I doubt they'd have given me unlimited access.
  However, I did manage to pick up a nifty new spell during my time in Kheldell. It allows me to summon a floating armor that wields a flaming sword. The sword's practically bigger than me!
  I have called the armor Svevarr, I may not be able to forge armors and swords, but at least now I can summon one.  I also managed to extend my control of Fire magic, I can now hurl fireballs which do not immediately explode on impact but wait with exploding until somebody comes close to it. I'll have to see if this is of practical use though.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on September 19, 2004, 11:03:00 AM
ENTRY 9
  Brac'ar returns to the Wild Surge and sits behind the desk in his room. He takes off his helmet and then reverently removes a book from his pack. Dwarven runes are written on the cover of the book: "Silverhammer, Master Smith", they read.  Looking at it for several minutes, he places it on the desk in front of him.
  With a smile on his face, he takes out his journal from one of the desk's drawers, lights a candle and starts to write.
  Today, I have returned from a week's long trek across the continent of Dregar, seeking to aid a master smith. This was not ordinary smith; it was the near-legendary Master Silverhammer, one of the greatest smiths ever to be born on Layonara, at least, if I am to believe my father.
  We met him in Point Harbor, and he told me and my companions that he had returned from some insane subterranean system, called the Great Rift, northern Dregar. Master Silverhammer and his party had ventured there in search of the famous cobalt ore so he could craft his greatest armor ever before joining Dorand at the Great Forge. His party bravely went into the caverns, and they faced many dangers, drow and beholders, undead and mindflayers. One by one, Silverhammer's companions fell, and in the end, severely wounded to the leg, only he made it out, with the ore.
  However, in order to forge the armor, he would require an ancient dwarven tome of strength, located deep within the crypt where clan Silverhammer buried its dead. While the wound to his leg had healed, it had not healed properly as he was now walking with a limp; hence he required our aid to retrieve the tome from the tomb of his ancestors. He offered to pay us handsomely for our service, but accepting money from the Master Smith did not feel right. I asked for a private word, thinking he might write a letter to my father after I had helped him, but before I even could utter my request, he already started speaking.
  "This is about your father, right?" he said. I could only nod. "Well, give him this the next time you see him." and he gave me a book. His smith's book describing in fine detail all the ins and outs of his craft, how he forged all those countless masterpieces. In short, the tools of a Master Smith's trade. I could not utter more than a bare: "Thank you, Master Smith." I think. He'd given me the book even before we had completed his task.
  Brac'ar puts down his quill and looks at Silverhammer's book and smiles again. Taking a sip of water, he continues to write.  We set out to Dregar, and traveled far and wide, as we had to locate two gems in order to be able to retrieve the tome from the crypts. We got a fire opal from the Forest of Mists and got a sapphire like gem from a gorgon herder in the Storm Horn Mountains. Then we set out to find the crypt in the Dark Forest on Dregar's eastern edge. Finally, we found it and battled our way though mummies and skeletons. Guided by the spirits of the fallen of Clan Silverhammer, we finally arrived at the location where the tome is kept. Using the gems the way Master Silverhammer had told us, we retrieved the tome and returned to present it to him.
  Using it he started working on the armor, what a grand sight that was! Using his hammer, forge and fire he bent the metal to his will, putting his entire soul into his last and final work, he forged an exquisite armor.
  And when it was completed, and he looked in satisfaction at what he had forged, he collapsed. Dead.
  His spirit appeared shortly thereafter, to bid us a fond farewell and then it slowly disappeared, no doubt to join Dorand and the Great Forge.  Brac'ar sighs as he thinks back to this moment, the look accomplishment of a life's work on the face of the Master Smith.
  And now, I have returned to Hlint with the Master Smith's book, which I hope to present to my father some day. I may not have become a smith, but I did aid one of the greatest who ever lived, that's got to mean something to him!  Closing the journal, Brac'ar carefully wraps the smith's book in a piece of cloth and then returns it to his pack. "Not ever letting this out of my sight." he chuckles. He puts on his hood, takes his pack and goes downstairs to have a well-deserved dinner.
 
 
 
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on September 25, 2004, 07:58:00 AM
ENTRY 10
  Brac'ar sits on the edge of his bed, looking at a blue gem that glitters somewhat and is slightly warm at the touch he places it on the desk and takes out his journal.   "In case anything ever happens to me and I am lost, you might be able to use this to track me down. Not that I'm planning on getting lost, mind you." That's what she said when she gave me the gem that lies in front of me now. It is some kind of magical stone, attuned to her soul, possible even containing some part of it.   I think that's the first time somebody has ever entrusted a piece of somebody's soul to me.  I also think that's one of the few times that I actually heard her say 'you' instead of 'ye'. He chuckles.  I will not lose this stone, Reventage D'vinn, and I hope that I'll never need it to come get you from wherever you got yourself lost in.
  Laughing at the last remark he wrote, he closes his journal, takes Rev's soulstone from the desk, he puts it in one of his robes many pockets and goes down to have dinner in the common room.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on November 06, 2004, 10:59:00 AM
ENTRY 11
Brac’ar walks into an inn in Shoufal, gets a room, goes up and takes out his journal.  Today, while I was walking around in Karthy, I was bothered by some cold mist which seemed to be following me. To my surprise, Master Silverhammer stepped out of the mist, asking me why I was taking to long to go back to Shoufal and return to my parents with the journal he had given me. I might not be a dwarf with axe or hammer, but I was still a dwarf, and not a pansy, so [/i]“Face it and be a dwarf”, he said.   He was right of course, I had only been making up excuses to not go back, going to this library then that one in order to increase my knowledge, but never going home.[/i]
  So I set out, back to the town of my birth, the town of my shame, the town of my family: Shoufal, Gem of Berhagen.  [/i]After an uneventful trek I found myself in front of its gates and after asking some of the locals, it turned out my parent’s smithy was still in the same spot.  [/i]So in I went.   [/i]My father was still upset about me leaving without word, and not becoming a smith, but my mother was happy to see me.[/i]
  I presented the Master Silverhammer’s journal to my dad, and he left to go read it, telling me he did not forgive me yet. I was very disappointed, but mother did point out that he hadn’t even finished the platemail he was working on, so I still have hope he’ll come around. [/i]I chatted with my mother a bit about what I had been doing since I left, I could hear my father laugh and shout out in “So that’s how ye do it!!!”  a couple of times as he was reading the journal, so I guess he’ll turn around.  [/i]After chatting nearly all night with Mom, I left, but am sure I will return soon.  [/i]Leaving his helmet on the table in his room, Bra’ar goes down into the common room, ordering a meal.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on December 30, 2004, 05:24:00 AM
ENTRY 12
  I have visited my parents again, this time with my friends, Plenarius and Reventage. While travelling to Shoufal with them, I told them my story. About the accident, the desctruction of the smithy, and ultimately, my face.
  The left half of his face grimaces as he writes.
  They weren't in total shock, which, in retrospect, shouldn't have been that surprising. I guess I could've shown them the 'real' me long ago, as it truly doesn't make a difference.
  Anyway, we went to my parents. Mother was pleased and gave me one of her bear hugs. Chuckles as he thinks of those hugs. But dad didn't appreciate me bringing a human and an elf with me. He locked himself in his room and continued to study Master Silverhammer's book. Suddenly, the ground shook and he shouted. We stormed into the room to find dad unconsious next to a large hole in the floor. It turned out some creature had burrowed its way in and stole my dad's hammer as well as Silverhammer's journal.  We jumped into the hole to give chase... And found ourselves in a very damp and wet cave system underneath Shoufal. I couldn't even get my fire spells to work. We pressed on, beset by the frog-like kuo-toa's of various shapes and sizes. We even had to swim though a tunnel, which caused Rev to nearly drown.  Then we came to a dead-end, without having found the hammer or the journal. I was almost despairing.  Suddenly I felt energies gather and a gate opened. It was unbelievable but my old teacher, Garrim the hedgewizard, appeared. I thought he was dead as the last time I went to visit his cottage, there was nothing left but ashes. When I told him so he started laughing and told me to use my wits as he had just stepped from a gate...   Brac shakes his head as he remembers "Must have been all that water fogging my brain."  If my teacher came through a gate, he must have come from another plane... Prankster as he was, he first tried to pose as a balor, but then assumed his original shape... That of a dwarf from the plane of fire. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Then, as teachers go, he taught me how to first focus my magic into my staff before releasing it at the last moment, bypassing the wetness which prevented my fire magic to work. I didn't believe him at first, but of course he was right.  Blasting my way through the dead end cavern we were able to continue downwards, where ultimately we came up a gigantic purple worm. After we disposed of it we found my dad's hammer and Silverhammer's journal in its lair. Just as I was wondering what a purple worm needed a hammer and a smith's journal for the ethereal shape of Master Silverhammer appeared, laughing boisterously.  Brac shakes his head "Dwarven humor..."  It turned out that Silverhammer had taken the hammer and the journal so I could prove to my dad that even though I was no dwarven smith or fighter I did have what it takes to be a dwarf. The Kuo-toa would have breached the surface sooner or later anyway, so Silverhammer thought it good to go down into their lair now while they were not at full strength yet.  To make a long story short, we returned to my folks and I returned the hammer and the journal to my dad. He finally forgave me for destroying his smithy and running away all those years ago.  I briefly contemplated to take on my old clan name again and call myself Brac'ar Kilring from now on, but decided against it. My face made and makes me who I am, so Brac'ar Fireface I'll remain, although I won't hesitate to introduce myself as Brac'ar 'Fireface' Kilring if that is needed.
  Closing his journal contently, Brac'ar takes up an arcane scroll he recently acquired and starts to study it, making notes as he goes...
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on January 01, 2005, 05:20:00 AM
ENTRY 13
I partook in yet another fascinating series of events, I am not entirely sure of what went on before or what happened afterwards, but I will recount my experiences. Apparently, there is some beast on the lose, a beast that is part fiend and part celestial. I do not know how such a creature came to be, but it was made clear to me that it intends to destroy Katia.
 
Shakes his head “Poor Katia seems to be under a lot of stress lately it seems.” He then continues to write.
  To destroy this beast, a Scion of Binding needed to be made, and we need two rings, a piece of basalt from a statue of Pyrtechon, and the Chasuble of Rofirein. Apparently, the Chasuble is the only thing that is lacking. We went to the Citadel of Rofirein in Pranzis to learn more and encountered an old man. He told us the following:   “Rofirein was rumored to walk the world, sometimes favoring human form, as he was quite fond of it. When he walked as human,  a shimmering garment of white rested on his shoulders. In one of these roamings the chasuble was created, tears of the dragon god on a village of the dead. They flowed across the land, cleansing it of the vile murders committed by the ancient enemy. Freeing souls to peace and justice. And where his tears fell on the vestment it became changed. Some would say infused with his compassion, some would say with his grief. Most would just agree with a portion of his essence.  |Rofirein, not being a stupid dragon realized that in his empathy he had given a great deal. A great deal to the people as well as to the garment itself. He gifted it to the High Priest of the time. However, good is always at risk to harm. So, while He gave the chasuble to the high priest intending good, it was not to be, it's powers caused far more harm. It was placed into the hand of the enemy who then used it to cause much grief and destruction. The church rallied and fought to retrieve the sacred artifact. Over time and constant battles that cost many lives, the armies of Rofireins faithful retieved the chasuble. It was then that the god himself decided it was too dangerous. Far too dangerous for mortal hands. He took it from his church and with a few selected for utmost loyalty and devotion spirited it away.  A citadel was constructed deep within the lands where people rarely trod, and warded it carefully from prying eyes. Great spells went to ward the entrance. It was sealed behind strength, love and loyalty and those who were chosen happily gave short lives of their own for long lives of service. Guardians took the vow of the ageless, a swearing of eternal vigilance. The guardians who hold this vestment are reputed to have taken this vow, to hold it safe as there other for all time. Ageless to duty, death in defiance.”
 After some prodding and questioning, it turned out that this old man had almost become one of the Ageless as they needed a replacement. However, he did not pass the test to become one and left before taking the Vow. He took with him an exquisitely carved crystal dragon which should reveal the entrance to this lost Citadel as well as grant entrance. So we set out to find it.  After a bit more than a week of travel we came to the region it was supposed to be, as we searched suddenly an entrance appeared, a large gate filled with carvings of dragons in various postures. One of the carvings at the top was a fake one and a ‘human’ pyramid of Arestes in minotaur shape, Remial, Reventage and some dwarven support from Kobal and Hargranar was able to reach the top of the gate where the fake was.
  He puts down his quill for a minute to laugh as he recalls Rev falling down from the pyramid on her behind.
  Rev managed to pry out the fake and replace it with the genuine and and the gates opened. Inside, we encountered many monks who immediately attacked. Unfortunately, they were not to be reasoned with. We made our way through the halls and came upon a library. I soon found the journal of the Ageless’ headmaster and started to read:  "And to the most loyal, I among them, the great lord handed down the duty of guardianship. His form blazed with holy light as he passed on the most sacred relic to be held in secret for all time. As I accepted, his deep resonant voice insinuated into my thoughts, and he made me aware of the vow my brothers must take to ensure the constancy of duty.
  The Vow of the Ageless I call it, the path of vigilance eternal. With that he passed frm my sight imparting only knowledge of where to build our most holy bastion. We gathered, a small group of twenty, the original of us and headed to the mountains where our lord commanded we take the artifact. And so we did being construction, ageless we strive, perfection of duty and craft became our vigilance. Stone by stone it rose to challenge even the sky with its majesty. Over time we finished. The gate became our one true vanity. We depicted our lord in every guise, in every turn of his glory and power. The gate alone was worth an eternity. Great spells were cast, light and time were bent to shield us from the outside lands and only those with a portion of our vanity could pass.”
  Browsing to the end of the journal it mentioned that they’d lost a member to demon wanderings, and had contacted and agent for replacement. This replacement was probably the old man we met before.
  As I read on I read about the most important room in this ancient Citadel, the Bastion of the Faith:  “The bastion of faith is carved on a level of tiers, one for stewardsship, being the upper.  One for duty, holding the reason we live and one for duty to the dead, to honour a guardian who served, now we in turn serve. The second tier for our duties purpose, the relic hold in sacred trust no never see outer lands again.  The third tier enshrined in immortal grace one who served whom we now serve. The bastion of Torans first beloved of both our lord and the god of guardians.”  When I read that last fascinating line I thought “Surely, Navarre, Toran’s first Paladin cannot be buried here… Can he?”  I then noticed that my companions had already left the library a while ago and had pressed on. When I finally caught up with them they had already reached the Bastion, of course, somewhat oblivious to what it was, except that that shaft of light surrounded by walls of moving blades must be important. Kobal and Hargranar tried to put a table onto the blades to be able to pass, but of course it was shred to pieces in the blink of an eye.  It was here that we also found a tablet with the Vow on it:  "I shall serve loyally for all days, time to darkness, time beyond time. The chasuble my only care and my lords duty my only want. I shall guard its location and its sanctity with my life, time immortal, time without end. This I vow."  Rev was the first one to read it out loud but was smart enough to leave out those last three words. Remiel however, took the Vow and was then able to pass the blades unharmed and stepped into the light.  About an hour later he returned, turned back by a mithril golem he could not pass, so he needed aid. Kobal and Harg were quick to also take the Vow, but I was not so hasty. I had no desire to spent the rest of eternity guarding an artifact, no matter how holy it was. However, every Vow has cracks, so considering the Vow did not say the Chasuble had to remain in this Citadel, and the fact that the Chasuble would be used for good I suspected it wouldn’t bind me for all eternity.  So I took it and stepped through the blades into the light… and found myself in a small valley. After we defeated the golem we came upon a group of large dragon statues with a large white structure behind them. As well as a small group of monks, who did not attack outright as those inside the Citadel had done.  The head monk spoke of a hooded man who came to them forty years ago, a man who called himself a prophet. He told the order that the time of the Ageless was coming to an end. He did not seek what they guarded, he sought nothing, his heart was empty of desire. So they spoke to him. He told them of the man who would betray them, and of our coming. Of why we needed the Chasuble, of their own deaths and the birth of hope.  So, to retrieve the Chasuble, fulfill their Vows and have hope be born, we needed to fight them and kill them, the path they have followed allows no less, they were sworn to guard. So we fought.
  He sighs as he writes this and thinks “That’s why you should never take oaths or vows without thinking them through.”
  After we had defeated them Remiel and I ascended the steps of the white strutuce, and there in a shaft of radiant light we found the Chasuble, a radiantly white garment, you could almost feel its power. We had succeeded. However, there was also an inscription “First beloved of Toran lies beneath, duty for duty, the guardian now guarded. May the soul ever rest untouched.” The letters of ‘Toran’ stood out and when we pressed them a stairway down opened.  It was dark when I peered down into the stairway so I tossed a coin with a light spell on it down to get a better look. In that brief glimpse I saw movement.
  Drow.  Drow in the tomb of Navarre, the first paladin! We gathered our strengths and went in only to be confronted by a small army of them.  After defeating the first group we came upon a sarcophagus: “Of the first light of binding and helpings to our Lord, this grave may it hold forever in peace the gifts of our Lord. Herein lies Jamila, High Cleric of Rofirein, second protector of the chasuble.”  Fortunately, the wards on this sarcophagus were intact so we continued onwards. We came upon a large room now, filled with drow and a large sarcophagus surrounded by four large statues.  We defeated the drow, but when I approached the sarcophagus I could already tell that there were no more wards on this one…   It read “Here lies Navarre, first beloved of Toran, guardian of Rofirein and holiest of knights. May his grace and justice be forever remembered" And it was empty.
  The drow had stolen the remains of the First Paladin and there was nothing we could do about it. The earth then started to shake and the tomb started to collapse, we ran out, through the valley, back into the light that took us into the Bastion again. The ground shook more and more and the Citadel started to come down around us. The time of the Ageless had indeed come to an end and we ran to try and not find our own ends below tons of stone as well.
We barely made it out triumphant because we had retrieved the Chasuble, but also downcast as the drow could never be up to any good with the remains of the First Paladin. This does not bode well.


Putting down his quill, Brac’ar sighs and thinks “I heard that the Scion was made and used, but I also understood that Navarre now walks the land as some undead abomination in service to the fiendish part of the Beast that the Scion was supposed to bind. This does indeed not bode well for the world.”


Blowing out a candle he goes to bed, but sleep has a long time in coming him…
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on January 02, 2005, 02:38:00 PM
ENTRY 14
  A few days ago I was talking to Brisbane about Shoufal because she inquired about some legendary Kothac Lightbringer. At first, the name Lightbringer threw me off, but then I guessed she must be referring to Kothac the Smith.
  Kothac single-handedly saved Shoufal from an undead invasion a couple of centuries ago and I remember that when growing up, everybody always wanted to be Kothac when we played.
  Shakes his head, chuckling “Don’t think I ever got to play Kothac.”
  That was about the extent of my knowledge so it wasn’t much help. A couple of days later, while returning from Rilara I decided to sail to Fort Velensk and from there go to Shoufal to visit my folks. Coincidentally, Plenarius had just left my parents asking them about Kothac. So I went to the entrance of the crypts and found them talking to a dwarven lass who refused them entry. Hardly surprising as the dead have earned their rest and shouldn’t be disturbed. However, they were adamant that we needed to check if Kothac’s weapon was still inside as they had encountered vampires (who seem to be serving Saproprias) are looking for it.
  So I was allowed to vouch for them as I was from Shoufal and in we went. Everything looked in good order, except that there was no dust on the lid of the sarcophagus., although there was dust everywhere else. So we went out to get a priest of Vorax as we didn’t want to disturb the grave. The priest of Vorax sanctioned us opening it and to our shock it was empty. No remains, no weapon, no nothing, except for a book in old dwarven which I’ve taken with me to study.
  He puts down his quill and takes out the book and starts to read:
  “In these the twilight years of my life, I set to parchment the annals of my days. It has been many years now since I came to cleanse Shoufal, and in doing so earned the trust and respect of those here to shelter me. But now it is time for my story to be written, lest all memory of it fade, and none learn from my experiences.”
  Taking a sip of water Brac’ar mutters “Fascinating.” and turns to the next page:
  “Of those experiences, the one that served most notably was my battle with the evil being Arkanor.”
  Almost choking on his water at reading the name of Arkanor Brac’ar thinks “Now THAT is fascinating... Arkanor Lightsbane, who'd have thought!” and reads on until daybreak.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on January 14, 2005, 12:48:00 PM
ENTRY 15
  Looking at the leatherbound book on his table Brac'ar chuckles and writes in his journal.
  I have completed the translation and used the skills I have acquired in scribing and tailoring to make I have made several leatherbound copies which I will send off to various libraries. I'll also drop one off with the next Bearer of Knowledge I'll meet. Of course, I'll keep one for myself as well.
  Looking at the book with the shiny gilded letters Brac'ar traces them with his index finger:
  The Annals of Kothac Lightbringer - Translated from Old Dwarven by Brac'ar Fireface Kilring, 1378
 
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on March 06, 2005, 09:12:00 AM
ENTRY 16
Brac’ar enters Hlint through the west gate, a slight limp in his walk. Looking at the familiar town he hasn’t spent any significant amount of time in the last few months he sighs contently and proceeds to the inn. When arriving in his room, he sits down at the desk and takes out his journal. “Time to get this updated.”
   
  Nearly two months ago, I was chatting leisurely with Athus, Rev and Ozy near Ilsare’s temple in Hlint, when all of a sudden a discordant melody carried on the wind. It pierced the tranquility of the moment, and affected people in a strange way. They started to shout at eachoter, get into hefty fights and even kill eachother. Even Ameni, the priestess, lost it.  She attacked and when we fled she followed into the outskirts north of Hlint. We finally managed to subdue her (by an effective whack in the head from my staff), however, when we tried to get a conversation going, he eyes fell out of her sockets. Luckily, Athus was near to heal her, else things would probably have gone really bad.  When she had somewhat recovered, she was able to tell us of what exactly the discordant melody was. Something had happened to the Harper of Ilsare.  She explained that the Harper travels the lands, playing the tune of Ilsare on his harp, some say he is a servant, others say a portion of the goddess bringing love to those in need. He looks like a vagabond or a scoundrel, yet somehow he always brings joy to those he meets.
The tune he plays is a part of life's harmony that would be ours, the part of the song we would call love. Yet the song then sounded wrong, perverted somehow, so Ameni thought that dire circumstance had come upon the Harper.
   “Dire circumstance was one way of putting it…” he mutters.
   Who would be able to catch the Harper was beyond her, but if they did, they might eventually gain possession of the song. If they did, the madness which possessed everyone earlier will infect all places, the song will fill the air permanently and bring suffering, chaos and hate and love would be gone from the world.  So we, Rev, Athus, Plenarius and myself, set out, the discordant melody in our ears, it was the same everywhere, husbands fighting wives, children killing their pets, chaos everywhere.
When we came upon Fort Llast, we met a few adventurers who were oblivious to what was happening apart from the melody on the wind.
Then, Mage Dalton went berserk…. Summoning balors and other hellspawn, the tranquility of Fort Llast was ripped asunder. We ran, advising the others to do so as well and avoid the towns at all cost. I hope they listened…  We went south, as the discord seemed to be coming from there, only to arrive in a Port Hampshire which was filled with riots. We tried to avoid the rioting citizens, and managed to find a somewhat sane ship captain to take us across.
I say somewhat sane, as he demanded my staff as payment for passage… My staff!
I agreed, albeit reluctantly, it was my staff, no matter how much that captain thought it looked like an oar...  We aided fixing his ship, together with another somewhat sane sailor, when it was ready to sail, the sailor murdered the captain and took ownership of the vessel. With another mob of rioting citizens approaching, we jumped on the ship and set out towards Rilara.  Luckily, the man did know what he was doing and we made it to Rilara safely. At our request, he dropped us off near Point Harbor, as we didn’t want to run into another rioting mob.  Then when we near the Wolfswood, Plenarius succumbed to the disruptive discordants. He became distrusting, even hostile, to the three of us.
Luckily, talking to him of past memories and experiences, he managed to get a grip on his senses again, and we could continue.  We finally ended up in the Belgaer Hills, where we were beset by fiendish creatures, like abishai, but also by half-fiend sorcerors and fighters. Plenarius and Athus fell, but luckily could be restored by Reventage. The discordant harmany was very strong here, and many bursts of sound erupted, throwing most of us to the ground every time it sounded. It seemed to come from a cave so we entered.
Inside, we were beset by more fiends and half-fiends, as well as some the largest and strongest giants I have ever set eyes on. Fierce battle ensued, and one of the giant mages managed to single handedly rip the life out of Plenarius, Athus and myself.
I still don’t know how she did it, but suddenly after a period of utter blackness, I was looking at Rev’s face again, back amongst the living.  Deeper into the cave we went, the volume of the sound becoming almost tangible, throwing us against the ground if we had moments of weakness.
Eventually, we came upon another fiend, a female one. Glowing with tattoos of power and wielding two blades she charged. After a long battle, she was defeated, and when taking a closer look at the tattoos, they reminded me of Milara.
The sound continued to throws itself against us and on we pressed into the cave, where the vibrations of the disrupted music echoed stronger and stronger, and then we came upon a man.
He was wielding a blade, which was the source of the sound, and started mocking us. It was clear that he wasn’t a person to be argued with so we attacked. Already being spent from the previous battle with the female fiend, this one was possibly even worse, however, in the end, we got the better of him. He also had some of the tattoos the fiend had had.
His blade continued to send out the discordan harmony and vibrated with power.  
The indentations on the blade seemed designed to modify sound and turn it to a new form, as well as amplify that same sound. However, something was strange about the hilt, silver wires were wrapped around it.
Reventage, using my sewing kit, managed to detach them from the blade, they were very fine silver wires and looked very much like strings, which they were.
Having removed them did lessen the strength of the discord, but by no means was the Harmony of Life back to normal.  So we then returned to Hlint and Ameni as soon as we could, hoping that she could put a use to the strings. When we got there, the people had recovered somewhat but everyone was still on edge. We also met Ozymandias and Arestes at the temple.  Ameni went to get a harp frame and strung the strings to the harp and Rev played a note. That was a bad idea.  Immediately, the discordant melody picked up in strength and the populace of Hlint went berserk. Garent attacked us and quartermaster Talon stormed towards Ameni with that nasty weapon of his.
Luckily, Garent hadn’t put his helmet on and a nice whack in the head with my staff knocked him out. Had to turn Talon to stone though, I hope both don’t mind too much…. Apparently, something was still wrong with the strings, then Ameni recalled an ancient text:  "When strings unstrung sing discords song, the winds will need to cleanse them. Strung to land, heart and soul the frame reborn, the breeze to seek. Holy winds of Ilsare come to a place where winds do not blow."  Of course, I like a nice old riddle and obviously, a place where winds do not blow is somewhere below ground. Ozymandias then mentioned a cave of Winds, somewhere on the Kingdom of Roldem, where winds had come below ground, so that fit the riddle quite well.
We decided to use Reventage’s teleporter in her home to transport to Pranzis and go from there. When I was about to enter her house, a terrified shriek came from the temple.
Reventage and I ran back and there it was…  A statue of a scorpion.  Now, I had heard about these before, but never actually seen one. It is a message from Milara that a god is under attack, and if it wasn’t clear from the tattoos on the fiends earlier, it was now. Ilsare was Milara’s next target.
I tried to sense in what way the statues actually was magic and cautiously extended my senses. It was a good thing I was so careful, because I immediately felt my life being drained from me when I did. Fascinating, no doubt, but not fascinating enough to get killed.  Reventage was in total shock, and Ameni was on the verge of hysteria (which is not that surprising). I had to nearly whack sense back into Reventage, that the only way we could counter the attack is get the strings fixed and find the Harper so that the Harmony would be restored.
We ran into the house and jumped into the portal. When arriving in Pranzis, we set out as fast as we could to take ship to Tibum and then onwards to Silden.  Near Silden, however, we were beset by drow as well as giants, much like the giants we encountered in the cave. All probably in service of Milara.
I have never seen archers that were that accurate as those drow were, they slaughtered us, except for Reventage. The last thing I recall was the foul water of the swamp entering my mouth as I collapsed with several arrows in my back…  Then, suddenly a bright light and the face of a female drow. I was in shock, and thought she’d raised me just to kill me again, but it turned out she followed Az’atta and was fighting the other drow. When I rejoined my companions, we hurried after her, but we were too late.
At the entrance to the cave of winds, we came upon her, crucified with a cruel note at her feet.  "Nobody fools with Milara and gets away with it"
We got her body down, and were about to try to raise her, when I noticed something off. Apparently, she wasn’t really dead, I determined that Milara had locked her soul into some twisted magical trap, which would go off when somebody would try to cast a raise dead spell on her. It would then capture the magical energy of the spell and kill everything in the area.
Unfortunately, I could not find a way to remove this trap... With the life of Ilsare depending on us, we could not afford to lose any time, so we left her, in a shallow grave. May she forgive us.  Brac’ar stares out of the window, thinking of how the Az’attan priestess had sacrificed herself.  We entered the cave. Winds and gusts of air tore at our clothes, and we had trouble standing up straight. Air elementals could be seen, as well as giants and some kind of twisted ‘thing’ for lack of a better word. The elementals did not seem hostile at first, so maybe they would have ignored us had we not bothered them. Unfortunately, before I had voiced this, my companions had already attacked them.
The winds in the cave turned very angry at this, and the anger was directed at us…  We slowly pressed on through the cave, unsure of what we were looking for. Reventage prayed to Ilsare for guidance, and got the sense that she needed to find two things; one that has something to do with earth, a stable thing, the other something to do with fluidness, an intangible thing.  So, fighting giants, half-fiends, twisted things, and air elementals, we plowed on through the cave, further down.
We eventually came upon a kind of room, a large glowing thing in the center of it, with paintings on the walls.
The thing itself was cleary magical and radiated a blue light. In the glow, an inscription could be read from its base.  “Speak to me of release, speak of the common in all and the rarely true in life"  I guessed it had to do with the commonality in the paintings. There was one of a man in golden armor leading an army, one of a man with slit wrists, one of a woman with a child on her arm, one of a Halfling woman baking a pie, another of a man, touching the ground, also one of a human in sky blue robes wielding magic. The last painting was one which depicted all, with a red ribbon around it.  Obviously, the answer was “true love”. The paintings depicted the gods, with love for battle, death, family, nature, and magic. When I said those words, the blue glowing things opened, a golden harp frame inside it.  It was a golden frame with no strings. Beautiful elven runes of musical notes and beautiful pictures flowed around it. The magic within was so powerful it hummed as Rev picked it up. She read the runes, which were mostly prayers to Ilsare, which have been known and told for ages, which are beautiful elven songs.  Now, with frame and strings in our possession, all we needed was to cleanse the strings and string the harp. That turned out to be easier said then done. We had to continue to fight our way further into the cave, and eventually came upon the largest demons I have ever seen. I also distinctly hope that I will never see their kind again… But we had no choice, we had to fight them, so we did.
And we won.  Then we came upon the deepest section of the cave, where twelve air elemental like creatures waited, radiating power. After fighting the demons, we were in no shape to fight these, and resting with the raging winds around us wasn’t an option either.
So Plenarius went closer to them, and thankfully, they did not attack.
We all went close, very carefully, and then one of them approached:  “Now to the place where all songs are sung, notes played and tunes undone. From high to low first I fall, then ascend on wings divine.”  Then the creature was silent. Clearly, another riddle, indicating how to play them; start with high notes, then with low notes and then upwards again.  Near them, a large rock, which, with a bit of imagination, could be seen as a big stone harp, was standing. It had twelve holes at the top and twelve at the bottom, exactly the same amount of strings we had.
Reventage then proceeded to string this stone harp. I must admit have never seen somebody as nervous as her at that time, but with characteristic Reventage determination, she started the tedious task, fully knowing, that breaking one of those twelve strings was not an option.  While she was doing that, I studied the creatures further. As Plen had already said, they were not air elementals at all, they were creatures of pure sound, each representing a different note. Quite fascinating, to see creatures of pure sound.  Meanwhile, Rev had taken a break, about halfway there with the strings, all of them still whole. With a few mutters she then continued with the remaining ones. We tried to not be too obvious watching her, but we were… so much depended on it.
Finally, she was done, all strings still whole, and all of them in the stone harp. The creatures, however, remained motionless.  Reventage then proceeded to play the first string, with the highest note. When she did, no sound was heard and nothing happened. She continued to the lower notes, one by one. All this without any reaction from the creatures. Then she went upwards again, waited a bit before playing the last highest note.  For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, one of the creatures moved towards the stone harp, and when it touched it, a single pure note filled the cavern. Then the second creature moved, and when it hit the harp, a second note joined the first in harmony.
The third deepened the timbre of the melody, the fourth turns the cavern into a maze of sound, entrancing and enrapturing.
The fifth added depth and tone, the music seems to span time effortlessly.
The sixth remarked on beauty, each see different things but all to the eye are beautiful.
The seventh added the haunting lilt of truth, so often needed and sometimes painful.
The eighth added a baritone of joy, joy in the moment and of the now, the satisfaction of living.
The ninth brought the midtones, not as delicate as the highs or as moving as the lows, it is the tune of everyday existence spanning more than a moment.
The tenth brought peace and the assurance of affection, the care of others for who you truly are.
The eleventh brought self, the acceptance of your own being beyond flaws and faults, and accepting those faults as part of perfection.
The last brought eternity, the love of ages and the complete harmony found in emotion that relates to all people and all things.   Then, the cavern resonated briefly with this glorious hymn, straight from the great song itself before falling into a deadening silence.  There wasn’t a word to describe what we felt during the cleansing of the strings, it was… sublime. When the deadening silence fell, the strings were lying on top of the stone harp, glowing softly.
Rev then hesitantly took the strings and strung them to the golden frame we found earlier. And then it was done, the Harper’s Harp was whole again.  However, all was not well. 
A discolorant spot appeared on the shiny gold harp.
It was decaying, probably because something was wrong with the Harper.   Rev felt the urge to go southwest, towards Rilara so we ran to the nearest port as fast as we could.
Bribing a shipcaptain to take us directly to Karthy, we made good time, but once in Karthy we were somewhat lost. Something linked Karthy to the Harper and it wasn’t until we came close to a tree that we found out what it was. The tree remembered the song the Harper played underneath it, so he’d been there!
According to some locals he had left, but when Arestes tried to commune with other trees outside town to determine where he went, there was no trace of him.
Last thing people knew was that he had played at a Xeenite festival in Karthy.  We confronted the rather drugged Priestess of Xeen and, after she got somewhat high of some red root, she started talking about them imprisoning the Harper because he played so well at their festival.
They’d taken the Harp from him and sent it to a mage in the Swamp of Lost Souls to learn its secrets. However, her envoys didn’t return, demons did and they took the Harper.
We set out to the swamp, the harp continuing to corrode and its runes fading. We did not have much time.
We fought our way through half-fiends and demons again, as well as through golems made of demon flesh inside the mage’s tower. When we finally subdued him, he wanted a bargain. He’d tell us what he knew, if the Harper, who’s a “useless appendage to a dysfunctional deity”, would write him a Sonnet of Chaos.
He would geas the harp compelling the user to write the Sonnet for him. And the mage will then use the Sonnet as he sees fit.  The mage told us he was contacted by a priestess of Xeen a few months ago. She had a harp she wanted studied ad agreed to pay the mage for doing so.
He demanded more than she was comfortable with but that in the end, it was a price she was willing to pay. She dispatched a small number of her clergy to bring the harp to him.
It got sidetracked. A group of black mages waylaid the priestesses. They took the harp and delivered it to their master. Hearing of this the master decided that half was not good, he always wants all. He attacked the temple of Xeen and spirited the Harper away.
The wizards then made a blade, which defiled the harp. Strings wrapped around its hilt.  By this time in his story, he had moved into a pentagram. I tried to break it by making a gap in on of its lines, but touching it with my staff made me turn to stone. I still can’t believe he did that to me!  "We'll see who's the better mage next time..."  Later, when we left and I was released from being a dwarven statue, I heard that Rev had made the decision to accept his condition of the Sonnet of Chaos. Not that she had had any choice; it was either accepting, or running of in no specific direction looking for the Harper, which would take time we didn’t have.
  The Harper was being held in a cave in the Wolfswood, and we had no time to waste.  
The last bit of gold on the harp’s frame corroded and none of the runes were visible anymore
  
  We ran. Harried from all sides by fiends, twisted creatures and maraliths we arrived at the edge of the wood. We fought our way into the cave, confronted again by the same huge demons we also met in the Cave of Winds. And then a vast barrier of blades prevented us from continuing.
   
 
Cracks were starting to appear in the Harp.
  
  The blades were not magical, yet they were very strong. They tore up one of the demon corpses we tried to push into them, and turned a large boulder into smalle pieces of rock when we rolled it into the blades.
   
 
The cracks in the frame started to widen and a moaning sound came from it. It looked like it was about to fall apart.
  
  Kobal, who had joined us in Karthy, said a fervent prayer to Rofirein and then stepped into the blades. A yellowish bridge of light appeared beneath his feet, which extended with every step, allowing him to cross the barrier! Rev quickly prayed to Ilsare for one last bit of strength even though She might need it in fending off Milara and also stepped into the blades, only to have a red bridge of light appear.
Muttering a prayer to Dorand I followed on a brownish bridge of light, the others did the same. Plen and Arestes on bridges of green light. We crawled through a narrow passage and there he was, somebody you'd wish you'd never meet in person:  Milara.  Standing next to a large pentagram, he looked unfussed by our intrusion. He looked at the man lying in the centre of a smoke-filled pentagram. He then looked at Reventage who was storming towards him, and casually slit the Harpers throat. Chaos erupted in the world and Milara disappeared.
   
 
A few strings broke.
  Clouds gathered, thunder roared and lightning struck. Red rain was starting to come down upon the surface, corrupting everything it touched. Life’s Harmony was in mortal peril, friend turned against friend, husband turned against wife, and the air was filled with discord.  We pulled the Harper from the pentagram, trying to keep him alive. Athus asking for the help of Aeridin, Reventage praying for Ilsare to help her, and Plen pleading Katia for aid. Yet the bleeding didn’t stop, the Harper was dying.
Rev started to hum the Melody as it was supposed to be, the way we heard it when we cleansed the strings, but that only seemed to hurt him more, he shook his head, a sad look in his eyes. We told the Harper of friendship, trust and love, yet the wound kept on bleeding.
   
 
With a cracking sound the frame nearly split apart, only a few strings remaining whole.
  Then, Rev kissed him on the forehead, and he smiled. The discordant chaos seemed to lessen for a moment, only to kick in stronger a few seconds later.  She then kissed him on the heart, followed by a kiss on the mouth.  The Harper sighed at the kiss, a final exhalation that seems to hang in the air, a benediction to a life lived full and shared.
   
  An explosion of epic proportions rocked the cave and the harp burst into frantic song.
The cave reverberated for a moment before the joyfull sound spilled forth across the lands.

Before our eyes, the corrosion fell away, the harp sat gleaming and complete, mystic runes made anew and silver strings shining like a new dawn.
  The land was shaken under a majestic roar of sound, a soft red hue fills the air... suddenly old loves forgotten were remembered, new ties were strengthened and for a moment it seems to be the only emotion in the world that matters.  The sound and color then faded for short time but did not vanish, the melody was taking its place with the rest of the great harmony of life. Playing constantly in the background in tune with the heartbeat of the world.  As the harp played sound appears visible around Kobal, speaking in its own way of his loyalty and steadfastness to order and justice. He stood taller and looked renewed.
Walls of green vines rise around Plenarius, sound given form in his love of nature and the wild. A faint echo of the true song of the land is heard in the breathtaking melody. Plenarius stood taller, and seemed renewed.  Sheets of metal and magic formed around me, making gentle waves of blue light upon the cavern floors. The notes form a singular word: "Fascinating". I felt myself grow taller for a moment, and felt renewed.  A tree appeared around Arestes, growing wildly and constantly changing its form. It stays still for no time at all, the tune of evolution in motion. Arestes also stood taller and seemed renewed.  Waves of chaotic sound rose around Reggub, blue and violent flashes of red sound clang around him in a discordant symphony. They speak of passion for life and his everlasting love of the female form. Reggub also stood taller and looked renewed.  Then, the sounds from all gathered shattered asunder and rush to surround Reventage and the harp. The songs intertwine and mix until a singular great melody is heard. A melody that tells the tale of the quest for the Harper of Ilsare.  The harp plays the final strains of sorrow at the death of the old, but rejoices at the new before falling silent once more.  We must have stood there for minutes, enjoying the echoes of the Harmony that we just heard, and totally speechless by what we had just accomplished.   I must admit that Reventage looked a bit lost with that Harp but I guess it needs to grow on you.
All in all, it was a fascinating experience.
   
  Laughing he closes the journal for the night.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on March 07, 2005, 11:26:00 AM
ENTRY 17
Sitting on the bed of his room in the inn, Brac’ar carefully removes the bandage that covered the wound on his leg. The wound is still oozing a greenish puss, and, despite the tissue around it looking fine, it doesn’t look as if the wound is closing. He replaces the bandage with a new one from the large bag of bandages Athus provided and sighs.  After the events I described earlier relating to the Harper of Ilsare, I did not yet return to Mistone, but went to Xantril, on an expedition. A veritable army of adventurers had decided to explore the lands of Xandrial and I was one of them.
We traveled far and wide, from Arabel to the south, onwards to the Cloven Mountains where the Skullcrusher giants reign.
Northwards towards the Roughlands and a place called the Lake of Salt, northwards still until we came upon a tomb in the sands.
Still half covered, it looked like it was only recently uncovered by the winds.  Scores of undead were milling about, and attacked once they had sighted us. With the divine power of several clerics backing us, they were not too hard to dispatch, so we ventured forward into the tomb.
Naturally, more undead awaited us in the dusty, sandy tomb. We found some reference to somebody named Wallach who was supposedly buried in here, but who he is I still don’t know.
When we made it to the central burial chamber, we were confronted by more undead, and one of them stood out. His bones glowed as if reflecting the light from flames, his eye-cavities were filled with flames and in his hands fireballs rested. My companions focused on the other undead, as I went to duel this undead fire mage.
I assumed the old adagium “Fight fire with fire” was not going to work, as using fire magic against me is also a bit pointless due to my protections. Apparently, he did not think of that and tried to fry me where I stood.
At that moment, I was happy that I never totally focused on just fire spells. I breached his arcane defenses and summoned Svevarr, then, with Svevarr disrupting his concentration by hitting him with that big sword of his, I quickly send storms of missiles his way.
He did not last long.
By that time, my companions had defeated the other undead, apart from one other skeleton, who all of a sudden started to talk. He claimed his master wanted to talk… About life. Obviously, he was a bit late.  Putting down his quill for a moment, Brac’ar chuckles softly. “He should’ve talked before trying to fry me.”  After some discussion, where for some reason Quintayne was advocating to try and raise the skeleton of the mage, we left. Outside, we were confronted by total darkness and a mysterious mummy-like creature which attacked us.
Unlike most mummies, this one was quick and clearly sentient. Its magic was very strong, so we ran.  Later, when catching our breath at Fort Miritix, an elf stumbled into the Fort. Mortally wounded, he asked us with his dying breath to take a package to the Alpansian Grove on Voltrex, as well as seek out his family on Voltrex.
Reventage called out to Ilsare to raise him, and she was granted the power to do so. However, the elf was very angry at being torn away from his god, so Ozy killed him again immediately.
I thought about calling the guards, but then again, this was Xantril… They probably wouldn’t care.  We left the fort and set out for Voltrex. We arrived at the breathtakingly beautiful Saida. We asked for directions and were told to go north to find the Grove. On our way north, we came across a few of the Elven Elemental Towers; Air, Earth, Nature and Fire. Imposing sights, all of them, but the Fire one has, of course, my preference.
Finally, we arrived in the Alpansian Grove, another exquisitely beautiful place, and turned in the package to the elven druid that awaited us there. She told us the elf’s name was Alieviear Cranthaian and that his family lives in a wood elf village in Ulambree Forest. A village we had already passed through on our way to the Grove.
She also explained in some cryptic way the purpose of the Grove:
“It's the grove of Voltrex, the single grove that serves Voltrex. The other locations, of which I'm sure you saw as you traveled here, serve the world. This place serves Voltrex.”
I wonder what she meant by that, I’ll have to ask Rhizome some day.  We went back to the village, discussing all the time whether or not to tell the Cranthaian family that their relative had died twice, being murdered by Ozy the second time.
Ozy and Rufus argued we shouldn’t, as that might turn the elves of Voltrex away from allying themselves against Blood. I argued that we should tell them the truth.
Ozy and Rufus did not join us entering the village though.  Rev, being the only elf around, asked to meet the Cranthaian family and told them their relative had died. However, they didn’t ask how, maybe that’s irrelevant to these woodelves, I don’t know. In any case, Rev also did not offer to elaborate on his death, so we left.
After wandering around the continent of Voltrex for a while longer, eventually I left there again, back north, to the haunting cries of Arabel, because my exploration of Xantril wasn’t over yet.
Setting out from Arabel, Ozy, Rev and myself travelled far and wide across the continent. Eventually, we came upon a fort called the Fort of Last Hope.
I am not sure where its name came from, and the handful of inhabitants that we saw weren't too forthcoming with information either.
The fort is nestled at the edge of the Demon moutains, and only few call it home. Not a big fort, it probably doesn't, or didn't, function as a place of resistance against Xandrial's hordes, so maybe Fort of Lost Hope would've been a better name. However, the fort has one fascinating structure. Pointing upwards into the sky as if trying to rival the peaks of the mountains behind it, stood a tower.

Constructed from grey-black rock it towered upwards. Fascinated, and totaly willing to purchase it from its current owner, I walked up to the door and knocked.  At the moment I touched the door, however, thunder crashed and lightning flashed down towards me, knocking me against the ground. Ozy examined the door closer for traps and there did not seem to be any physical traps. Extending my senses, I determined there was a magical ward placed into the structure of the tower itself. A strange combination of Transmutation and Evocation, which felt able to recharge itself.  So we decided to try and deplete it. I summoned Svevarr a few times to hack at the door, he was nearly instantly put to waste every time he hit. Ozy summoned a golem to lean against the door, as the golem would be able to take more than a floating armor. After a few tries we determined that after every six strikes there was a bit of a lapse in lightning. How to take advantage of this however, is another story. Perhaps a group abjuration could do the trick, perhaps not. I will need to scour some libraries on information on this tower, as well as to try and gain the knowledge of a powerful ninth circle abjuration spell, which, probably in combination with something else, could be enough to allow entrance into the tower.
  Then once inside, I might be better able to determine how it works. I like a challenge, and this is one of the most fascinating ones yet.   Looking up Brac’ar mutters “Yes, a challenge indeed.” Chuckling, he closes his journal.
   
 
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on March 11, 2005, 02:54:00 PM
Still at his room in the inn, Brac’ar sits himself down behind the desk again.
I’ve now reached the occurrences that have to me having a small wound which is not closing and continues to ooze a greenish goo, and my return to Hlint.  [/i]
It is a story of dragons, or at least, a start of a story of dragons, I’ve only met one yet, Fezrekthania, the Broken One. But I will not get ahead of myself, it started on Xantril, after I had returned to Arabel from the Fort of Lost Last Hope.   [/i]
In Arabel, rumors abounded that adventurers had been sent to the tower of somebody named Ozlo, somewhere near the Great Forest. They were requested to go there by Moraken, apparently, so I decided to head there as well, together with Reventage.  [/i]
When we came upon this tower, we saw it was actually a very large tree. Other adventurers had already arrived, and when we finally were let in, we were met by a gnome. We had to sign some forms in triplicate, outlining anything we heard in there would be confidential. We were not to talk to anyone about it. When finally everyone had signed, we could go talk to him.  [/i]
Up we went, and without any real introductions he asked us to tell him what we know of dragons. People started talking about chromatic and metallic dragons, chromatics are evil, metallics are good. However, all the metallics had left.   [/i]
However, Kasha mentioned she’d met a silver one before, to whom a golden egg was taken. Unfortunatly, Ozlo mentioned the silver was no more.   [/i]
Whatever ‘no more’ means, death or no longer on Layonara, remains unclear. And I wonder what happened to the egg.  [/i]
He then mentioned he had information on how to bring the metallics back into the world. However, there is a catch; we need to unite the five chromatic dragons for a common cause. We can choose the cause, however, if the dragons will also see it as a good cause is a totally different matter, as each has its own wants, needs and desires. Ozlo seeks to unite the chromatics first, so that when we, he said ‘you’ not ‘I’, bring back the metallics, the chromatics would not immediately attack the metallics. He then stated the obvious, that all chromatics should not be underestimated. They’ve been alive for centuries, so they’re very smart, and very dangerous, else they would’ve perished already a long time ago. However, they all like treasure and servitude, and all of them hate the Seven Sisters.  [/i]
He proceeded to ask what sisters were. I provided him with two answers, either females who share at least one parent, or a group of females united in a common cause, like a sisterhood. He confirmed my suspicions that the Seven Sisters are the latter, but also that two of the Seven are actually really sisters in the first definition of the word. At the moment, two of the Sisters, it’s not clear if these are also the two that are related, are in battle, and they should be united, with the aid of the one (whoever that may be), in order for the Weave to be strong. So even though all of them server Lucinda, they’re not seeing eye to eye. The Sisters are spread across the three Chapters of Lucinda, and these Chapters are currently moving away from each other, due to the war in the heavens and the actions of the one.  This ‘one’ is doing his duty still, even though he should be dead. Even though, through no fault of his own, his very essence was ripped through time, and yet still he performs his duty. So this must be the creature called Shifter, but if that’s also the ‘one’ who needs to help mending the fight between two of the Sisters remains to be seen.  [/i]
The reason the dragons hate the Sisters,, is that the Sisters have been chosen to protect the Weave. Something the dragons used to do in the past, not the dragons themselves, but three of the dragon gods, who are now gone.  [/i]
This gave me an idea. Obviously, Blood is not reason enough for the chromatic dragons to unite, else they would’ve done so already. However, what they might want to have back is their gods, and specifically, their gods’ who were involved with the Weave. That might just be the cause they can all rally behind, because who wouldn’t want to be involved in the return of a god? It’s easy to see that if somebody aids a god in returning, he could expect large favors or power from the returning god. That’d probably be incentive for any power-hungy dragon I would think.  [/i]
So I proceeded to ask Ozlo about what would happen if the dragons replaced the Sisters. According to him that would mean Lucinda would be dead, her Chapters destroyed and the dragon gods returning into more power. However, since there used to be three dragon gods involved in preserving the Weave, whereas now there is only Lucinda, it might be that more than one god is needed for the Weave to be at its strongest. And it needs to be at its strongest for Blood to be defeated, Ozlo stressed this a few times.  When I mentioned this to Ozlo, he said “I believe that that is why there are Chosen.” To which I replied, as mere mortals in my opinion can never replace gods: “But Chosen are not gods.” He did not reply to this further.  [/i]
He suggested we start with either the green or blue dragon first. SO we set out to Roldem, to the lair of the Broken One.  [/i]
During the trip there, I expressed my theory on how getting dragon gods back to maintain the Weave might be a good cause to unite them with, but that was met with a lot of scorn. The Weave wasn’t mine to offer, I was blasphemous because that would kill Lucinda, there do not need to be more gods, and what not. However, people seemed to forget the metallics. If they return, they could be the force to balance the chromatics, so let’s say if two of the three dragon gods returned, we’d have Lucinda, a chromatic dragon god, and a metallic dragon god protecting the Weave. To add to that, if we manage to stop the feud between two of the Sisters and make them work as a group again, they might get the Weave in proper shape already, and have Lucinda get the strongest grip on it, dividing the remaining ‘power’ so to speak, amongst the two retunred dragon gods.  [/i]
Then, the Weave might be strong enough to defeat Blood, as it needs to be strong, probably to overcome the power Blood draws from his bloodwells.  [/i]
In general, people weren’t receiving my plan with an open mind. When we finally fought our way into the dragon’s lair however, I got pushed forward as spokesman.  [/i]
Knowing the vanity of dragons, I bowed low, and stayed low, all the time using honorifics as ‘mighty one’, ‘wise one’ and referring to me as ‘lowly worm’ or something along those lines. Of course, bowing so low made me nearly nauseous from the green gases which drifted around him, but I persisted.

 
[/i]
It worked quite well. When I explained that we wanted to unite the chromatics and came to him first, as he was the mightiest and word of his might had spread through his followers he was willing to listen. However, I first offered a meeting with the Sisters. That was a bad idea. He made a wound in my leg and breathed some of his foul breath into it. The wound now refuses to close and continues to ooze a greenish puss.  [/i]
I quickly corrected the mistake and mentioned the Weave. The dragon replied that I could not offer him the Weave, which I immediately confirmed, as it’s not mine to give. However, if the chromatics unite, they might be able to do something together.  [/i]
He seemed to ponder this for a while, and then made a sound that remotely reminded me of laughter. He accepted, but only on the condition that all the other chromatics accepted as well, and we’d need to get a golden urn from the ruins beneath his lair first, and we had one day to do it, or he’d kill us all. I could take 4 others with me into the ruins.  [/i]
So Reventage, Remiel, Triba, Athus and I went down with all haste. Dodging and disarming traps we found our way to the center of the ruins, where many undead awaited. After a heavy battle, which I’ll not describe in detail, we were victorious and found the urn. We briefly investigated it, and it turned out it only looked like an urn because of some illusion, in fact it was a bowl with a black bottomless pit in its center. Unfortunately, the day was almost past so we ran back, not having time to investigate further. We came back to the Broken One, and gave him the urn. He then flicked a sliver of a scale from his skin and had a drop of his blood fall onto it.  [/i]
That was his bond that he’d do as he said. He’d unite with the others, but only if all of the others also agreed. When I asked a boon to have the wound cured, he ignored me. He didn’t ignore the request that we’d want to take Ozy’s corpse with us, as he had killed Ozy when he arrived (Ozy had tried to kill the Broken One once). After paying six high magic items, of which one was my ring of intelligence, we could take him. Then the Broken One flew off.  [/i]
So, now I sit here in the inn, with this sliver of scale and a festering wound. Athus hasn’t found a way to cure it yet, but I wonder if maybe this sliver of scale itself might be the key. After all, it is from the creature that made the wound fester… A fascinating theory, if I say so myself.  [/i]
And perhaps I need a new staff, it was called paddle in Port Hampshire, and toothpick by the Broken One…  [/i]
Four dragons to go. I’d visit them all myself if I could.   [/i]
Putting down his quill, Brac’ar takes out another bandage and changes the one on his wound.  
    
[/i]
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on April 16, 2005, 04:29:00 PM
ENTRY 19
  Brac'ar sits at his desk and sends a letter to a long time friend.
  Rhizome.   We have not seen eachother in ages, which is regrettable. Even writing the letter pains me somewhat as I am not writing it to only ask how you are doing, but also to ask for your assistance.   I am sure you are aware of the deals that need to be made with the chromatic dragons. DUring the first of these deals, involving the Green dragon on Roldem, the dragon punctured my leg with one of his claws and I now have a wound that refuses to close and continues to ooze a greenish puss.   I realize that that is probably not the nicest way to desribe it but that is what it is.  Athus has tried all of his Healing he knows, but something is clearly wrong with it.  Last week, I encountered the Striker of Fear. She strongly advised me to cure the wound and that I would need to find her in the forest in a good mood some time and she might show me some plants which my friends could brew into an antidote.   As I had never met her before then, and am unsure where to start looking for her, not to mention how to ensure she's in a good mood, I was hoping you would be able to help me, because maybe you encounter her on occassion, being the High Treehugger that you are.   I hope you're well.  Brac'ar.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on August 13, 2005, 11:45:00 AM
ENTRY 20
Entering his old room at his parent’s place in Shoufal, Brac’ar takes out his journal. “I’ve put this off far too long.”
Taking out his quill, he mutters “Where to start, where to start? Shall I finish the dragons, or keep thing chronological and start with the Library?” Sighing, he takes out his quill, sharpens it and starts to write.  I shall start with the Library. A few years ago, the lost elven library had been located and all it was now lacking was a new home. Funds were being collected by Triba and Eldarwen to construct a new Great Library.[/i]
  While they were doing that, Arenski was able to reach the Speaker of Nature, who seems to be the occupant of the Tower of Nature on Voltrex and quite the powerful figure.  [/i]Now, a messenger from the Speaker had arrived, seeking people to find the library again and bring it out. [/i]But first, it had to be decided where to build the new Library, as books, of course, need to be protected. [/i]Queen Allurial prefers for it to be built on Mistone, but the Speaker of Nature prefers for it to be built on Voltrex.[/i]
  The Speaker offered to have Triba and Eldarwen and the other donators build the library on Voltrex and give them permanent access to Voltrex. Those who would assist with the moving would gain limited access.[/i]
   Triba, sly merchant that she can be, countered with the possibility of a portal with free access to the library for the people here, yet Voltrex to remain virgin from outsider contact.[/i]
  The Speaker would consider this option if the Seven Sisters unite and stand behind Allurial, as she speaks for Lucinda, uniting the Five Towers and Lucinda, something he apparently values.[/i]
  Then all people could access the library through this portal, and the rest of Voltrex would remain off limits, except for those who helped construct the library and assist in the move, they would also get limited access to Voltrex. This access, however, would only be valid for the duration of the life of the current Speaker of Nature, who, according to his messenger, is still quite young for a Speaker, whatever that may mean… For all we know, elves don’t qualify for being Speaker until they’re six centuries old and he can die at any moment.  [/i]So we set out to Blackford Castle, to give this proposal to the Queen. When we arrived, to my surprise, she inquired about my wound. I guess she probably heard about it from the Striker of Fear.  [/i]Triba then proceeded to explain the proposal of the portal and the requirement by the Speaker for the Sisters to agree on this for it to happen. It would also mean that the Five Towers and the Sisters would be working together, at this Allurial replied “Unity in the Weave”.  [/i]Quite a fascinating statement if you ask me, as it implies that there is no unity in the Weave. This was also implied by Ozlo earlier, but I thought that that was just regarding unity within the sisterhood of the Seven Sisters, but not it seems there is more and these Five Towers also are involved.  [/i]Allurial then summoned the other Sisters: Selian, the Striker of Fear, the Lady of the Land, Misty, and the Sielwood Witch and her sister. After some deliberation, only five of them agreed with Allurial though, if I judged it correctly, only the sister of the Sielwood Witch did not. [/i]Triba tried to persuade them by explaining that we have asked for free access to this library for all, however, the elves wish their land toremain free of outsiders. To do this certain protections must be provided, these which can only be granted by the united power of the Sisters. The island may hold wonders, but it is not what we seek nor need, all we need is access to the Library. By the Seven Sisters uniting, along with the Five Towers, this ward is to be established, and the link from our lands to theirs.[/i]
  Then the Sister of the Sielwood witch asks to know for how long this arrangement would last as the length of the current Speaker’s life is not long enough. [/i]Allurial makes a counter proposal, only if he agrees, the Sisters will agree. "The sisters do not accept the terms to be for as long as your current Speaker remains in power or alive. Instead, since Lucinda is guaranteeing this success, it is for as long as Lucinda herself remains alive and in power and control of the Weave. You ask your Speaker if that is good for him."   [/i]The Ambassador, after consulting magically with the Speaker, added one requirement: “That Lucinda always protects Katia and aid her in the heavens at this very time.”[/i]
  Another fascinating statement, as one can conclude that Lucinda is the more powerful deity.  [/i]Sister of Sielwood witch turns angry at this, as they make a demand on Lucinda. The Ambassador, however, does not see this as a demand, Queen asks library to be open while Lucinda is alive and in control of the weave. They ask for Lucinda to aid Katia in return.  [/i]Then the Sielwood witch comes forward and states that it is decided, and a deal is struck. “While Lucinda remains in control of the weave, and she is alive, all good people on Layonara shall have access to this new Great Library on Voltrex. Katia shall have her aid when the library is moved and the portal is established.”  [/i]This also seemed a bit weird, as up to then Allurial had done the talking, and now all of a sudden the Sielwood Witch sealed the deal.   [/i]During all this, Reventage also kept making claims that the Church of Ilsare would be involved in this venture, as the library would also hold many artistic treasures.  [/i]It was not until then that I noticed the mage Xora to also be present, she had been silent during the entire meeting, but I wonder what her stake in all this is.[/i][/i]
  [/i]
  In the company of Misty we then traveled to the fortress of the Ulgrids, as we would take ship from the underground docks and sail towards the library from there. [/i]It seemed King Ulgrid IV at first didn’t want to lend us his ships, but Misty tells himthat he owes Allurial a favor and that she came to collect. At that point, he agreed. [/i]As we left the audience hall, he beckoned me to come closer and asked me why I used magic, as that was not a thing a dwarf did.  [/i]I told him that I was still a dwarf and magic had its uses, nodded towards him, bid him good day and left. Now that I think back on it, I don’t think that was a very smart thing to do, as he probably didn’t like my lack of respect, but anyway, let’s call it “The arrogance of Kings.” magic has its uses.[/i]
  [/i]
  We board two ships, and I captain the first and Ozy the second. We sail on an underground sea for weeks. During this time, however, I learn a lot about sailing, although I’ll never become a genuine captain of a merchant or military vessel of course.  [/i]We sail back and forth, keeping an eye on the device that we had to relocate the library. We also get beset by some Duergar pirates and a fierce sea battle ensued, we prevailed and took control of their vessel. We also found a brooch or something with the words ‘Twar Shal’ on it, whatever it may mean.  [/i]Finally, after more sailing, we come to the spot where the sunken Library resides. We are transported inside by the magic of Arenski and end up in the largest library I ever saw.[/i]
  Scores and scores of books! One could spend a lifetime there and not read it all!  [/i]However, we did not come to read, and Triba gives a blue pouch to Arenski, with which he can make something called a tunnel link. To my shock, as he stepped through it, he turned to ashes, his task as guardian of the Lost Elven Library completed Arensky Prielarn Prielarn was no more.  [/i]May his soul find peace.  [/i]We returned to Ulgrid’s and instructed them on how to reach the library. With the addition of the Duergar vessel we had captured, they now had three ships to move the contents of the Library to Voltrex and it would only take a few months to get all the books to Voltrex.  [/i]As we left the fortress and I looked up at the night sky, I saw the figure of a snake struke at what seems to be a figure of a heart. The figure of the Heart is Ilsare’s constellation, and the Viper is a new one which I will put some investigations in to.  [/i]I then traveled to the High Forest in search of the Striker of Fear, as I still needed a cure for the wound the dragon gave me. Strolling through the forest, she was the one who found me though. She urged me to hide as evil was afoot and it wasn’t long until a man passed by fairly close, moving southwards. She then hurriedly told me Blood had been angered, as Milara was growing in power, and his other generals weakened. The Striker went to follow him, whispering in my ear to find her in the Elven Woods on Voltrex for a cure if I wanted to live before she ran off into the woods.  [/i]I hurried southwards as well, and when I was a few miles from Hlint I already saw the glow of fires against the dark clouds. Hlint was under attack.  [/i]As I stormed into town, I saw the same man I saw before in the High Forest, calling fires from the sky, fires the likes I have never seen, he walked through town, killing everyone in his path. After nearly three quarters of the town had been burned to the ground, he left.  [/i]That had been quite the trip, with quite the repercussions. The Library had been restored, yes, but at what cost? Ilsare attacked by the Viper, and from what I heard later, Katia and Lucinda as well. Rumor at the time has it that the man I saw in Hlint was no other than Sinthar Bloodstone himself.[/i][/i]
   
  Something I can confirm as I spoke to him a few months later…[/i][/i]
   Looking up as his candle goes out Brac’ar decides to call it a night.
     
     
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on November 07, 2005, 02:50:00 PM
ENTRY 21
Oh how time has passed since I last opened the pages of my journal. Not to mention the events that have occurred during this time. [/i]And speaking of time, it is time I commit to paper some of my experiences.[/i] 
  Re-reading his previous entries, Brac’ar decides to finish the story of the chromatic dragons.
  It is now what, three or four years since the unification of the chromatic dragons under a single cause. [/i]As mentioned in one of my previous entries, we, or rather I, had secured the support of the Greenbut we had to return to him after getting the others to agree before he would hand over a sliver of a scale as proof.  [/i]I did not have the ‘pleasure’ of meeting the other four dragons, however, before we returned to the Broken One, the slivers of the four other dragons were given to me to show them as proof.  [/i]When we arrived however, things did not go completely as planned, as it turned out that some dragons had agreed to an alliance against Blood, whereas the Green was still under the assumption that they’d be going for the Weave.  [/i]Apparently, some of the more single-minded adventurers thought that the Weave wasn’t theirs to offer so they could not tell the other dragons that. Which is of course true, but entirely beside the point.  [/i]Ozlo’s demand was to unite the chromatic dragons under a single cause, what cause did not matter. Whether they agreed to fight against Blood, try together to gain control of the Weave or agree burn the Great Forest to the ground, it mattered not. As long as they were busy doing whatever they agreed to be doing, then he would tell us about the metallics.  [/i]Unfortunately, that message had not come across, especially to some Lucindites, but I guess that is to be expected. Truly they should have more faith in themselves, the Seven Sisters and their Goddess.  [/i]But I digress. There I was again, sprawled on the ground in front of Fezrekthania, the Broken On, last of the Green Dragons to roam Layonara, talking about the other dragons. And, as it turned out, trying to talk us out of the mess and get the Broken One to agree.  [/i]After twisting the story somewhat into that the others agreed to fight Blood together but that in order to defeat Blood the Weave would have to be strong and who else to make it strong like in its old days than the dragons I managed to convince her. [/i]However as I was lying there in front of the magnificent beast, Fezrekthania forced that green sliver of one of her scales, together with a drop of her blood into the still festering wound she had created during our previous meeting. The pain was unbearable and I passed out.  [/i]“Dragon marked you are from now on”, she said, the sliver unable to be removed from the wound. She told me that now every dragon could mark my passing through the world… Whether it is true or not remains to be seen, but I admit it is not a nice thought.  [/i]We left the Green’s lair, planning to make our way back to Ozlo. While passing through Roldem, I was straggling behind because of the wound in my leg and there he was.  [/i]Sinthar Bloodstone.  [/i]A man, if you can still call him that, slithly taller than the average human, but with a raw power radiating from him. [/i]Then, in a voice that sounded as if it wasn’t really coming from his body he said:  [/i]“You make deals with dragons?”  I actually managed to reply "If I did, wouldn't you know it?". which probably wasn't the smartest remark I ever made...  [/i]He started incanting and I tried to move away as quickly as I could. Luckily, my arcane defenses withstood the initial spell, a truly hellish ball of magical energy that seemed to come from nowhere. [/i]
  While I made my escape, aided in my walking by Reventage, without whom I wouldn't have made it, Talan Va’lash and Kobal Bluntaxe actually charged him . Stupid of course, as one cannot just attack Blood and expect to live, but I am not sure what would have happened had Blood gotten a hold of me with four slivers in my possession and one in my leg, so I am thankful that they distracted him long enough for Rev to get me out of there.  [/i]It was not until later that we also heard that Blood’s forces had been spotted hauling the corpse of a green dragon onto a ship. Despite Fezrekthania being an evil creature, I cannot help but feel regret for the passing of the last of the Green Dragons from this world.  [/i]To make matters worse, it was not long after that that reports of a dragon bone golem near Dalanthar made their way to Hlint. It would not be surprising that this golem was made from the Broken One’s bones.  [/i]But I digress again. As we ran from Blood towards the nearest harbor to make our way to Ozlo, Triba mentioned she felt something rising from the ground, something like a soul.  [/i]If this was related to the Green or something else is still not clear to me.  [/i]With all five slivers we returned to Ozlo. And as if my marking wasn’t enough already, he had the audacity to say that he wasn’t convinced that the dragons had united.  [/i]Not long thereafter, we left, as there was no talking sense into the man, if a man he is. I suspect he is more than just a mere man.  [/i]Yet not long after that I heard of rumors about dragons being sighted near Aryte, which eventually did convince Ozlo, as he told a group of adventurers the whereabouts of the metallics.  [/i]But that is another story, one that I did not take part in. In my travels however, I did manage to acquire another draconic taint, but I will leave that to the next entry.  [/i]Putting down his quill and Brac’ar looks at his now greenish hands for a few minutes, then he sighs, takes out a small pouch and looks at the four slivers of the other dragons he still has in his possession. Then he sighs, puts them back in the pouch, puts on some gloves and walks out.
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on December 03, 2005, 08:48:00 AM
ENTRY 22
Closing an elvish book he loaned from Reventage, Brac wipes some dust off the cover of his journal and opens it. Sharpening his quill he whispers:
   “Yes, journal, it is that time again. Time to commit to paper the story of the second draconic taint which has taken hold of my body. The taint that has colored my skin a sickly green. The taint that I acquired in the depths of the Underdark. The taint that will probably consume me if I don’t stop it. The taint that fascinates me.”
Satisfied with the sharpness of the quill, he dips it in some ink and starts to write.
  It all started in, how could it be anyplace else, Hlint.
The short of it is that during the period that the drow stole the corpse of Navarre, Toran’s first paladin, and occupied Spellgard, they also poisoned a large number of Hlint’s adventurer’s population.
   This poison was administered to ensure that they would not interfere with the plans of the drow. Of course, the poisoned ones started to look for an antidote.
At the moment, the drow have already returned to their dark abodes in the Underdark, their plot involving Spellgard seemingly completed for the time being, yet the poisoned ones still had not found all ingredients for an antidote.
   One of the last remaining components is a flower from the Grove of Az’atta, located deep in the Underdark.
   So we set out from Arabel to the nearest entrance to the Night Below and down we went, guided by Katrien Hommel’s drow husband, whom we didn’t really see. He told us the armies of the dark were massing and we had to move quickly so we did, or at least tried.
   Several miles down, we came upon a pillar, covered with an old language vaguely reminiscent of elven, which read:
"Tell me ______ of the story, of the woman who lost control. Was  it ______ or ___________ or was it fire that stole her soul.
I have been sleeping for a ________ ages and I need to clear my mind, these _______ _______ give no reflection, its getting hard to see the signs.... The resurrections near."
   Of course this didn’t make a lot of sense, but immediately my fellow party members started talking about a fifth Council member. When asking them about this Council, it turned out that the drow, or at least these drow that were occupying Spellgard, are led by some Shadow Council, which at the moment, does not reside on Layonara, but on some shadow like plane.
According to my companions, they are also responsible for what happened in the Silent Watch Mountains.
   While I was still studying the pillar from a distance, Bilviki, the goblin, touched the pillar and disappeared. Not the smartest thing to do when you don’t know exactly what something is, but in retrospect, maybe he was forced.
It took almost an hour for him to return, with a dark gem in his hand.
He claimed a female had given him the gem, with the instruction to give it to a person called Lar, who is Katrien’s drow husband.
   Bil held it out so I could study it,  and it was of no material I know, yet dark end evil it glittered, sounds seeming to jar my soul echoing from its many facets. My teeth chattered and I could feel an almost magical hatred emanating from the gem.
Bil was about to hand it over to Kobal, but I managed to stop him just in time, as I sensed the gem was somehow linked to Bil and would explode if Bil would hand it over.
   We then decided to press on, before the drow armies would block our way to the grove, we could investigate the pillar on the way back.
   Deeper and deeper into the dark we ventured, the occasional drow patrol quickly being dispatched. However, some of us fell.
Somehow, Katrien was able to bring them back, which was quite strange as she is no cleric. Using some kind of flute seemed to give her this ability, yet as soon as she played it I felt the Weave resonate. Every drow magic user within miles must have sensed it…
   So we hurried on into the blackness, our path occasionally lighted by the strange glow of the faerzress. And came upon a second pillar, very similar to the first.
   As we approached it, a strange almost seductive force toyed with my mind a moment, before passing over and dismissing me as irrelevant. The carvings on the pillar were clearly notes that could be played by a talented musician.
That force seemed to originate from the pillar and was clearly magical, so I decided to investigate further. As I extended my magic senses, however, I was met with waves of green force. In retrospect, this is when I acquired the taint, but didn’t know it at the time.
   Sand Krows was also affected by this green force, and had turned slightly green. When I examined him magically, the menacing waves of green force jumped towards me, I tried to deflect them but I failed.
The force shattered through my sense of self, scouring through my body. Yet it found a mirror of its ill within me and passed mostly harmlessly. Only now did I realize that the force was inside me as well.
As I focused on it when it passed through me, I managed to examine it on its way out. I sensed an ancient evil, a powerful force that corrupts and betrays, pushing decay from within. I felt that whatever the source is, it didn’t have an origin in elven or drow magic. In fact, it was not familiar at all, though it was tantalizing in its slight sense of... wrong.
   I gathered all my strength and willpower, trying to expel the green wrongness, as I had no intention of having a corrupting force inside me… However, I found that I could not. No matter how hard I tried to expel it, the force within boiled but didn’t leave. I did, however, for a short moment, see an image of a shadow dragon, which I recognized as the great Shadow Dragon that resides in the Underdark, the one called the Deepening Dark.
As I gave up my efforts to expel it and looked at the pillar again, it seemed to note me, recognizing me as one of its own…
   Knowing that we were in trouble but that we couldn’t do much at this point in time, we ran from the pillar, deeper into the caves of Underdark in search of the grove. I’d have to deal with the taint later.
Yet later was sooner than I thought, as we came upon yet another pillar. One bathing in light, and covered with many pictures, seemingly in a sequence: a dragon, a crown, then three elves, then four drow.
   The crown looked more like a diadem actually, covered with emeralds.
The green energy that surrounded the other pillar was here as well, green woven and strange. It didn’t seem to take much notice of me, almost as if it was, recognizing me as its own. I even felt a kind of familiarity with it.
Considering this familiarity and the green energy already being inside me, I decided to touch the pillar.
   The green force of the pillar enveloped me and swallowed me whole, I was torn to tiny shreds as my consciousness faded.
   I found myself facing an elven woman, I think she was drow, she asks my name. When I replied however, it meant nothing to her. She asked me if I was one of the first, before I could think of an answer, she noticed 'its' power in me and started to talk. I decided not to interrupt.
   She told me of her journey, a long and hard one. They walked and walked, her pride... To find it and bring it forth.  She then said “Some things should never see day Brac'ar. Some things are better left in the dark. My pride was the fall, so proud of what the T’oleflor had given. I took it as a sign, I was better than them, even the others I scorned as lesser. Servants of light... “  A deep sigh then racked her form. “At the bottom it sat, green fire virulent in bands of gold. Deep and ancient, the work of those who stood before. The work never meant for the hand of elves. No matter how gifted we may have been.” "Defeat it...we tried.. We fought with all the resource the T’oleflor had given us. Hundreds of years of learning sound, light and shadow we threw at it... In the end, it acceded to our power. All did. Nothing was beyond the gifted of the firstborn. Accede...give in...a hoax to power..a powerful hoax...”
   Then I got pulled out of the pillar again, back to my traveling companions.   Rather confused on what this was all about, I briefly recounted my tale. To my surprise, some of my companions knew something about this and mentioned a woman called Alata, who was also known as a proud one. They did not have time to explain further, but thought it likely that there wouldn’t be more than three pillars. The third one was light, so the second one, the one with the notes, must’ve been sound, and the first one then shadow. In line with the three gifts of the T’oleflor. This was the first I heard of these gifts, yet certainly not the last.  Pondering this, we pressed on, deeper into the darkness of the Night Below in search of Az’atta’s grove. And we came upon a fourth pillar.  One that seemed a combination of the previous three, light, shadow and sound in one. Hoping to get more of the story, I touched it and felt myself ripped to pieces again.  Inside, if you can call it that, I encountered yet another figure, different from the last one, but startlingly similar, the same forced restraint in her bearing.  She asks if I was of the dark, as I didn't appear to be, yet I carried the mark of the fall... I decided to be noncommittal as I didn’t quite know what she meant, so replied that I couldn't be anything else, as she can surely sense it inside. She then said:”The fire is within you, burning you as it burns us all. It awakens soon and with it will awaken those it touched.” She then also launched into a story, telling me that the fall of the three was heralded, the diadem pulling them to darker places that they had a wish to go. She, however, came much after, as they sought to blend the gifts to one, the three lines into an entity that could force the cradle to submission. Her birth heralded celebrations, the Council finally having a success from the limited lines.  Yet then the flaw was found, the flaw in what she was. The corruption had touched her, touched her from the three that came before, through the gifts of the T’oleflor.  I then tried to squeeze in a question into her talking, as my time inside the pillar was probably limited. I asked her if the corruption was the fire, with the fire being the greenish energy that was now inside me. She replied with a yes, the diadem corrupts all it touches, or all who touch it. Depleted for those with the gifts of the firstborn did not fall easily even now the memories of what was lie within stones of power etched for all time. The diadem could not kill what was so completely.  This did not clarify much at the time, as her words were somewhat cryptic, except that for the time being the diadem was not active yet. So I tried another question, asking her how it would awaken again.
She nodded. “The ritual, the lesser gifted taken to itself, those families who have some of the gift drained of it completely. “
Again, an answer that is not totally making sense, but apparently some ritual is going to be undertaken by those who still have some of the gifts left.  She then fell back into her monologue about her birth. She came forth, gifted of three, the first of her kind. Yet in the taint was the loss, for the gifts would not work with one another. One, or the other she could use, all three together would not come.
The cradle remained shut and hidden, her forebears deemed her a failure.
Even though she was equal to one, she never was as much as all. It is what they seek, what they desire. To open the place of the birth and taint it with the corruption within.
Or maybe to become whole once more... A powerful reason to seek, for either purpose.  Her story apparently at an end, I was removed from the pillar. A bit wiser, but with more questions as well. What is this cradle? Who undertakes the ritual? How do we stop it? Do we stop it?  The answers were not going to be found there, so we ventured onwards, as it wasn’t that far to the grove, but as we arrived at the edge of a small subterranean lake, our way was blocked by drow. Many drow, assassins according to some.
These drow were led by a drow called Veldrin, somebody not unfamiliar to some of my companions. He and his assassins blocked the way to the lake, where we could just see a small island which was the home of the grove.  Katrien tried to play a song on her flute, which I now believe to be linked to the gift of Sound, but shadow smashes the area, glazed with runes of light, tearing the song to pieces. Connor tried to talk to him and eventually, in some way unknown to me, persuaded him to let him pass to gather a flower. When we had it we left as fast as we could before Veldrin changed his mind.  On our way back to the surface, I decided to touch the first two pillars as well, guessing that the first two would also tell part of the story of this diadem, the green corrupting fire, the council, the cradle and the gifts of the T’oleflor.  I was right.
 
When we arrived at the second pillar, the ones with the music, I touched it and once more the green light infused me. The excruciating pain of being pulled to small parts was there again before it granted me entry to the secrets it held.  I met another elf woman inside. To my surprise, she said the others spoke that I would, so they are somehow in contact and maybe more than my initial assumption of them being just memories locked into these pillars. She also seemed more open to questions, so when I voiced my theory she told me the pillars bind parts of souls that cannot be lost or subdued to purposes not our own. They share some, they know some. Are they of one mind? That remains to be seen.  She told me her story: “We traveled, for a long time. We searched the lands for challenges. The home had become tedious and our role seemed played out, the cradle itself refusing entry on most occasions.
We left, left governance to the one among us who seemed to desire it, and traveled.”
At that point I asked her where home was, ‘Home” she said, “was on an island. We lived near the place of our work, near the T’oleflor and the cradle.”  “They,”and I am assuming she means the T’oleflor, “visited often, though that decreased as they were lost to our kind. They did not travel till after the T’oleflor left. Before, she was just a musician, making music for joy and a small fare of sustenance.
Then it all changed, the gift, the loss of the T’oleflor and the fall of the diadem.”  I tried another question, asking her if she had the gift of sound. She replied “I am sound.”
Not quite the answer I expected, but her next words confirmed what I then thought, that the gift is what her descendants received from her, she was taken into the cradle long ago and became what the T’oleflor made of her. Before she could continue her story, I asked her yet another question “You say the fall of the diadem, was it not always corrupt?” as it wasn’t clear to me who or what had actually fallen.
Her answer made it clear, they were the ones who suffered the fall of the diadem, the masterwork of ancient dragons not meant for the hands of younger races.
Hidden away deep and dark, until her sister and she were handed the challenge of its retrieval. They had faced most else in the world.
As that was still unclear, I said “So it fell when the young races took it?”  “No, the younger races fell to it, it was not made with good intent.” She then continued where she’d left off.  She talked that there was so much to know now, and so little before. Her sister and she accepted such a task of course, no age, no challenge and so little more to learn.
They were bored, she thought, existence itself had become tedious on them. They wanted to stretch what they were.
So they took this assignment and went home for the last time, to bring light to the fold and traverse the ancient caverns. To retrieve the diadem as asked.
Little was simple after the find, light fell. Pride pulled her down first, the diadem twisting and changing her into something she was not.
She struck the other two then, the battle shook the caverns but her power enhanced by that of the diadem wore at them, till in truth they no longer had the strength to fight it. She admitted that they had never had reached limits before, they didn’t understand them. Not since the day of the change.
As they struck their limits, far from destroying them, the diadem struck in the place most vulnerable, twining corruption around their gifts, perverting them, pulling and perverting them till they hardly were aware of themselves.
Yet it left them alive, whole. Mostly.  As she finished with those words, I found myself back outside of the pillar. Fascinated by this story, I hurried upwards to the first pillar to get the final piece of the story from the pillar of shadow.  For the final time, I was ripped apart, the power of the diadem, for that is what the green energy is, scouring my soul to its core.
The last woman that I found myself standing before was trim and athletic, her grace captivating in her small movements.
She has awaited my visit, she said, the diadem allows its own to pass. The parts that are not in its possession stay trapped within. Like her.  But I am young yet, yet there are not many parts of me it does not touch. Fortunate and unfortunate for me, she said…  She assumes I knows who she is, since the conclusion is obvious enough. Most call her The Fletcher. The story grows grimmer as I came to her for the final telling.  They emerged, the diadem in hand, sure they had changed and not sure how. They felt no different, if anything they felt stronger than when they entered.
The battle with Light mostly forgotten, since they had fought often amongst themselves, the conflict itself was not new, only the scale of it.
So it was that they, I am assuming sound and shadow, undertook to travel and light returned home. For a short time, a short time only.  They never took the diadem back to the one whom commissioned its finding, it had been mostly dormant since they left its home, gems dulled from exertion, the battle with them both times taking toll on its resource.
As I asked about who commissioned it, she replied an elf commissioned it, but she thinks it was no elf. An elder she would think, but with magic that surpassed her own, for she never did see through its guise.
I manage to insert the notion that it may have been a dragon.  She knows the creatures are sorely reduced at the moment, in her time this was not so. They were more than they are now, creatures that though in decline still held immense power. She thinks my assumption is correct, but they did never verify it, and soon they did not care anymore.  This answer gave further substance to my theory that they are not mere memories, she seems to have an understanding of the passing of time as she knows there are less dragons than there used to be. Also, she apparently has some way to gain information from outside of the pillar, unless she gets it from those who touch it.  But to go back to her story.
They left the diadem with light for a time, but the cradle was to become more chaotic, their descendants less able to deal with the power it sent into the surrounds.
The elves living at home slowly fell to bickering, the cradle destroying anything close.
Eventually the families decided to vacate home, leave it and find a safer place elsewhere.
The families, though it was a blow to pride, agreed. The blood was thinning, the gifts weakening in them all, time and dilution taking its toll.   Through this, her own family was ostracized, held apart, for shadow is the only portion of the cradle that deals with return, and death. Light and sound are the wheels of life, the return not understood by most.
So it was that the final gift of the T’oleflor, the ring known as the Ancients Light was stolen by shadow. By her family, not her.
The Ancients Light was rumoured to be the key to the cradle, however, they could never get it to function. According to Fletcher, the T’oleflor  planned to spend longer teaching them, their sudden disappearance halting that.
They left the ring instead, a repository of knowledge for them to use. They never got it to work, though, so it sat forgotten, more source of pride than anything else.
The elves parted ways, the small portion that stole the ring joining a renegade group of elves. This renegade group descended into the Underdark, and they, along with others became the drow.
But...it was their own fall to the dark and eventual conquering of it that was to come, their rise to power and eventually sleep. For the diadem working in them, turning them slowly from paths pure to paths dark.
Power was its own goal, curiosity forgotten. Slowly they descended to become one with those that lived beneath the surface. And soon to take the mantle of the Council.  Then with a rather final tone she said: “They who were once the most gifted of the T’oleflor, favored and chosen for the tending of the wheels of creation in absence fell, and became the council. Ever working towards the cradle and the destruction of all they were to tend.”  And I was removed from the pillar once more, without being able to ask more questions.
Why did Bil get the dark gem from her? Or was it even her that Bil met? Where is the diadem now, as she said they left it with light? So many questions, so few answers.  When we returned to the surface with the flowers from the grove, the full ramifications of what I had learned hadn’t hit home yet, but as I commit these words to paper they have.  I am reminded many times of the words of the last woman I spoke, that the diadem allows its own to pass and the parts that are not in its possession stay trapped within the pillar. Am I, as I am sitting here writing this journal, then the diadem’s creature, with a part of myself left behind in those pillars? I know not, but it is a possibility I cannot dismiss…  And then there is of course the nature and origin of the drow, corrupted by the power of the diadem, will I follow the same path?  Putting down his quill Brac’ar sighs deeply then mutters “Not if I can help it.”
Title: RE: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on February 23, 2006, 02:09:34 PM
ENTRY 23
 
  Sitting in the grass outside a strange tower in the High Forest, Brac’ar looks at his hands and nods. “At least I no longer look green.”
  Absent mindedly, while looking for his journal in his pack, he touches the bandage around his leg which covers the wound made by the green dragon.
  “Ah” Taking out his quill and ink, he starts to write.
 
A fine mess this now is. We have just emerged from a tower, a rather old one, in the High Forest. This now partially overgrown tower was the home of a Lucindite called Emily, who together with her husband-to-be Narsil, are responsible for this mess.  But let me clarify the mess first. Ages ago, or at least how I understand it, a fight broke out between Lucinda and Ilsare, driving a wedge between Emily and Narsil, making them fight each other. Love turned to hate and they summoned devas to finish the other one off. However, like Emily and Narsil, the devas loved each other as well, battle ensued and both devas died, which finally made the goddesses realize they were wrong to fight.
  Now there are flowers that grow every year in Spellgard, and in the flowers it is said you can see the faces of the devas. These flowers came from the feathers of the devas when they died, however, now they don't grow because of some leeching force.
  A year ago, a party made the flowers bloom and the devas said "Seek the path of the single horned horse in the wooden lands of the high... there the path flows on" The devas were happy to wake up after the darkness. However, they then realized they weren't in the place of the circles, whatever that meant, so were only briefly freed before turning on each other with hatred.  
  While we were at Spellgard, I tried to determine what was hampering the flowers from blooming, I sensed some strange leeching force, but that was all I could find. Nothing on what it was or where it came from.
  So off we went, to the High Forest, as that’s clearly the ‘wooden lands of the high’, however, we didn’t go without strife. As the devas mentioned they had to be released at the circles, it stood to reason that we would have to take some flowers to these circles. So Reventage proceeded to scoop a few from the ground and put them in a box, and Rufus placed one inside a book to dry. This led to a strange response, those who followed Lucinda, like Connor, Katrien and especially Rashar, freaked out, called it theft and what not. In return, Rev didn’t seem to be herself either. Tempers flared, and it wasn’t until first Ael and finally Athus took the flowers in his care that we actually started moving.
  As we walked towards Leilon, everyone continued to argue, or more specifically, and everything is easy looking back, it was the Lucindites arguing with the Ilsaran. The only sane people left appeared to be Athus, Acacea, Ael, Bil, Rufus and myself. In the mean time, Athus had also sensed something was wrong and there was a clear disturbance coming down the divine. Then close to Leilon, Acacea started to hum a song, which seemed to calm people down and restore some wit to them, namely the Lucindites .It didn’t agree with Rev at all. Acacea told me this was the song of the blue flower, which she learned earlier in previous dealings with these. So somehow, this old Lucinda-Ilsare feud that the devas had been involved in, was affecting the Lucindites and Rev.A thing both disturbing and fascinating.
  Finally, we arrive at Legodia, who recalls the name "paths of the single horned horse". She tells the story of a young girl who came to live in the forest. She kept in balance with her environs, using only what was needed and keeping to herself most of the time. Nobody truly minded her, one of the few solitary souls that are good to have around. One day when the skies were scorned by ill-tidings, everything slowly changed. Something happened to her, and up to this day, they do not know what. She was shaded in dark manners that they could not penetrate.
  The Unicorn River is magical; many mages of all kind visit it to experiment, some even hoping to meet the souls of the forests the horned horses, the silver steeds. She was particular to this as her tower was in a location of known high magical influence. There is a path, it leads to where she called her home. For the most part it was a clear path, devoid of danger only the occasional magical beast walking through it.  After her change this path turned to darkness.
  The foliage covered it and many souls have been lost to its treacherous ways. From the words of those who care for the High Forest, the trees speak of souls outside this domain that are bound to the magic of the path. The few who have managed to come back from the paths have told Legodia a few things though. At the end of the path lies a strange shrine. Legodia's friend Iolosika, who has visited this shrine, said she didn't recognize the inscriptions upon the shrine or who they belong to. South of the shrine is a tower. This tower is where it is said the woman once lived and all the legends of the path endings are tied to her. If we go there we are warned, many return changed from that path. Dark and sorrowful, as if they had witnessed a war and always end up dying old and bitter. The girl/woman was called the Witch of Silvery End, the Dark Silver, the Witch of the Silvery Weave, Path's End. Once a year however, there's a strange occurrence on the river. The normally silver waters of the river start showing the shapes of horses on the stream. This started happening right about the time the unicorns vanished, when the woman grew into these dark manners.
  After that Legodia showed us the start of the path to the tower and left us. We then talked about the flowers some more and I asked that if there was a blue song, shouldn’t there be a red song too?
  Turned out I was right, and of the people who were there, it was Alantha who had the red song. She and Acacea started singing and the powers of the songs combined. The spell I then saw was amazingly complex, the pure force of the weave supplying the power while Ilsares song gave that power defined intent. The construct of the spell didn’t really have much form though, as it is driven by pure emotions, its intent however, is not filled in what it is doing.
  Soon many were hit by the song and started to act on their emotions only, they couldn't think anymore. Mindblanks and disjunctions had no effect, it was like a heal spell, the spell being gone but the effects lingering. Eventually I cast a thunderclap, putting their attention on me, but it didn't do anything to relieve the effects, eventually they lessened but people are still attracted to each other, Rev even called it a date! With a lot of effort, we started down the path towards the tower..
  We encounter what used to be unicorns I think, large black horselike creatures, who when killed and examined closer, had a horn that was likely once pearly white, but now pitted and corroded. Their coat no longer has a sheen and in many ways the stingy corpse appears to have been dead for weeks, despite it being killed just now. Something was definitely not right.
 When we finally arrive at the tower, we saw it was covered in runes: Deva, horse, heart, and heart, horse, deva.
 In front of the stairs there is a rune for each of the three that appears on the tower, with the words 'in place and time remains the same' inscribed underneath them. After a lot of debate on what this riddle means, like first there being love (the heart) then the devas fighting (the deva) and then something with unicorns (the horse), we couldn’t really decide what to press. At first we thought the heart was the rune to press, but then thought that love isn’t really the same over time. Neither are the devas or unicorns, everything changes in time.
  Eventually, we pressed 'horse' as that was physically in the same spot and in the same spot in the sequence. ‘Deva, horse, heart’ and ‘Heart, horse, deva’.  
  Often things are so simple, you don’t even know it if the answer is staring you in the face. With that out of the way, we could now step up towards the door, which was, unfortunately, trapped not to mention rust covered. It took me many hours to disable the hundreds of implosion runes, and if I had failed we would’ve laid waste to a large part of the forest, but I succeeded. But it was not over yet, there was also a trigger of another trap underneath the doorframe, which needed to be disabled from the inside.  Bil sent in his familiar, an imp, through one of the windows, however, it came to a gruesome end, killed by what turned out to be a golem on guard inside. As Alantha's pixie familiar didn’t want to go in, I eventually polymorphed into a pixie, flew in invisible and disabled the trigger hidden under a welcome mat and opened the door.
  Inside there were statues and flowers, in a surprisingly dust free state. Flowers on the left are all pretty and magical, some are also poisonous. Flowers on the right all seem to have specific botanical uses in alchemy. Most are very useful to imitate special effetss without tapping into the weave. There was also a collection of numbered statues, nearly finished golems, that only lacked animating force… Something I will get back to later in this journal.
  In the room with the golem, which I entered as pixie earlier, we find books, one with personal notes on summoning and magical clay. One about the summoning of a handmaiden of Lucinda catches our eyes; it has her marks scribbled all over, with many diagrams and modifications. The final pages of the book seem to be the last draft of the summoning, its complexity amazing in its detail and the compulsions that are laced within are of the strongest kind. Something summoned like this would be either bound for forever as they wouldn’t weaken unless it was released.
  About the magical clay, the process seems to be described clearly, the clay taken from a garden of magically infused soil with very particular types of plants growing within, probably the gardens at the entrance with all the flowers..  When bathed in highly potent form of positive energy the clay is then formed and could then to be used. It is noted many enchanters used it as a shortcut to create powerful constructs, yet they differed from the usual on many levels. For one they were not infused with a magical awareness unlike others, but the clay acted as much like a sponge for sentience. Wherein if the proper conduits were in place, the enchanter could funnel through awareness to the earthen form and meld knowledge of the source directly to the form. The book indicates that this final sequence was frequently used, yet mostly on creatures of lower intelligence since often the transferal was fatal, those of less than firm character however were known to se other subjects of the higher races and not trouble to much with the mortal forms. The remainder rambles on about bindings for the golems so they don’t retain the drives and desires of the host form, showing complex spells to bind the constructs and awareness to the will of the caster.
  The book also has a pile of information on tests that the Lucindite performed, placing the awareness in small pieces of clay at the heart of enchanted glass. She used the awareness of the shape formed in the statues to give them the outer shell of the inner personality. All in all a most fascinating read.
  Looking up as the sun goes down and the party makes camp for the night, he decides to call it a night and continue later.
Title: Re: The Journal of Brac'ar Fireface, dwarven wizard, tailor and
Post by: EdTheKet on March 12, 2008, 05:51:08 PM
ENTRY 24 (part 1)

It started many decades ago with a simple letter.

Dear Mr Kilring,

My name is Jerong Halrodia, Scholar at the Keep of the Tome. It is with a great degree of pride that I send this missive towards your person. Events have unfolded before us that have simply left the scholarly community in definite shocked states and with many great hopes as to where such surprises may lead.
As such, I contact you through correspondence in hopes to call your attention into matters of great deliverance.

For a few years now, the Society for Historical and Archeaological Accuracy (known as the Shay), has been involved in the exploration of an old ruin near the vicinity of Daluth, in the continent of Belinara,south of what is locally known as the Troll’s Marsh.
This strange ruin seems to have been the gome to a strange people, who in their better existence amongst the lands of Layonara, worked many aspects of the Weave and their applications to imbuing items and materials with its gifts.

Throughout these years of excavations many successful and rather enlightening discoveries have we experienced in such location, all and every one of which has received proper examination and the most careful recording.
All except one. A particular one to which we hope your infinite knowledge in matters of this particular magic can present as enlightening.

TO the matters of what I speak to you today we refer now to a book. A rather peculiar tome that was found amongst the most protected locations of the dig site and whose contents have driven the attention of many of our colleagues. Its title is Rhun Zharr, which as you already know, translates from the ancient easterling dwarven to something along the lines of “Powerful Unstoppable Fires of Runic Magic.”
In this very peculiar tome, a certain spell has been inscribed, all along with its uses and how to properly apply it to recipients in magic and/or against a person’s body.

Clearly a new spell is a great find and one that many scholars would appreciate recording, yet this tome is rather beyond the definition of “simple spell”. The Rhun Zharr carries within its pages an Irrepressible, Unquenchable, and most importantly, Unstoppable evocation.
This fascinating spell seems to be able to adapt to any presented resistances and carry within it an abjurational protection that makes it literally invulnerable to counter magic.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much else to say about the spell, because simple some of its usage escapes our comprehension and any further advancement into its knowledge requires someone of your ilk. Yes, this knowledge is not one that can be used by anyone. It seems that in its conception there were certain traits imbued into the castes of such magics which made it rather restrictive in its conception (an understandable concept when facing such powerful magic), and the only one we know that can possibly use this knowledge is you.

Word has trickled down through the circles in our community that you have been afflicted by a peculiar ailment brought from those of more ancient times, that combined with your extreme knowledge unto the art of evocation and your knowledge of the dwarven language, make you the perfect candidate for this endeavor.

We understand that the world right now sits in turmoil in many other aspects, and that it may prove folly if this information fall into the wrong hands. As such we are asking you to contact your most trusted individuals to accompany you, shall you desire to accept this invitation to the Keep of the Tome.
A few copies of the existence of this tome have been sent to trusted circles, yet we are sure that the only one that can truly provide helpful input in this matter is yourself.

Thus with much hope to seeing yu soon, we await your presence at the Keep of the Tome, its location inscribed on the back of this letter under magical wards. Wards which will reveal the direction to our Keep as your approach it, the initial destination, inscribed at the bottom of the warded structure.

In hope to meeting before the One Book, Jerong Halrodia, Third Grade Historian at the Keep of the Tome, Keep of the Tome, Dregar.



So what was I to do, travel to the Keep of the Tome of course. It was bound to be a fascinating experience. So off we went, Reventage, Acacea and myself, following the directions in the letter into a mountain range on Dregar. A mountain range which for the sake of secrecy shall remain nameless in this journal.

We entered the Keep through a secret entrance and were met by this Jerong Halrodia, who had written the letter.

After a warm, and rather Aragenite welcome, he cut to the heart of the matter. The tome had suffered an ill fate.
Apparently I was not the only one they had sent a missive to, and one of the other letters had been intercepted. To make matters worse, the tome was not actually at the Keep yet but on its way, and had been stolen by minions of the Old Red Lizard.

I decided to not immediately pursue those that had took it, as it was probably too late anyway, but first study the notes and the rough copies that were made of several pages as well as some inscriptions, in order to determine what this tome actually was.

The inscriptions were recent notes made by scribes when they found the first impressions of the Rhun Zharr, as the  tome is called.
The notes also had initial transcriptions of inscriptions made at the location before the book was actually removed from its stand in some ruins near the town of Daluth.

The first thing I noticed about the text was that this was a very very old dialect of dwarven. It was so old that I actually had to do some small translations to changes that have occurred through time with terms and meanings. So anyone that is not too experienced with the language can easily make a lot of mistakes.

I continued my analysis of the cover and immediately learned that it actually has more inscriptions than just its name, they translate roughly to: "The Fire of Hardened Scales, Lay Hands and Spirit Upon These Tales"

It seemed rather poetic at the time and not so much a definition, but I will get back to that later.
I turned to the introduction, and it was immediately clear that this work was done by someone with skilled used of the weave, yet there is always this certain flair to the text.

It was very detailed but there are times when unnecessary language was used to describe things or effects, a flair that you normally not see in scholarly type research.

A brief summary of the translation follows:

The working of this spell will be so that an evocation is created that cannot be stopped with any sort of defense. However this evocation will also be varied in design and purpose. Not only being one to be protected, but one that can adapt to different environments as well as those targeted with it. The first design of the spell is rather simple. Its main course will be fire, yet this is simply on preference. For it being an evocation, it can actually adapt to any of the four elements with a simple transposition of the basic runes in the core system of the place it is being scripted to or how it is being cast.
So in essence you have a multi elemental evocation that can be changed on the spot.
That is just the beginning, for then you have a particular mode of the spell where its intensity is accumulated in wave like motions. As if adding the four different elemental magics used to make a force of pure magical energy. This is force of course without any sort of known defenses, but localized a lot more than the wider spread of the other forms.
Then the following workings of the spell are its natural state of abjuration protections. As is known, evocations are normally countered or protected by many different sorts of abjurations, ranging from simple elemental resistances to an actual dispelling. By weaving these two forms of magic into one, the evocation will be "coated" with a layer of this pure abjurational magic that will make it impossible to avoid or remove by normal means.
The only forms that can possibly penetrate this protection are spells called disjunctions.

The tome then continued into more practical manners, it began to postulate on the limitations or usage, but was abruptly cut off at: "The Rhun Zharr will be able to be placed on many powerful and magical items, however.."



After that the rest of the notes were schematics on the size of the tome, the composition of it and the altar it was found on. The altar looked at first sight like nothing more than a burst of flames reaching upwards. However when the detail I looked in more detail, I saw that there were all sorts of runes on each wreathing flame.
The book seemed to have been placed on a flattened flame that served as a stand. It was hard to see but using a lens I was able to make out what the runes said: “Touched in layers of fire, this lore we keep to our people to protect and imbue with power for the gifts granted in magic. Knowledge of ages passed on by kin of mightier forms, father of our people. Let the fierce be held firm within us, as the gifts are passed and wreathed in flames."
Next to that, the altar seemed to have slots for other decorations that were either removed or ransacked ages ago.

The sketch of the book itself shows that it was about an arm length in height and 3/4's on a side. Seems be about 3 fingers in thickness. It is written on the description that it looks almost charred since it has a blackened crimson sort of look.

With all of these references to flames, fire and magic I thought it would be a good idea to talk to my old tacher Garrim, considering he is what one calls a Fire Dwarf, often found in Pits of Endless Strife near the elemental plane of Fire.
Of course, that is easier said than done, so before going of chasing the thieves of the tome, I decided to use the resources of the Keep in order to find a way to talk or summon my old master.

We managed to find several such ways, one involving several highly rare and expensive gems, which could be used to send messages, the other involving an adamantium helm which could actually summon him. A helm that had conventiently been loaned out by the Keep to Haysenfend Threelions, a wizard in Dalanthar.

Luckily for a poor wizard like me, there’s always a companion with an enchanted diamond when you need one. So I first tried the quick and dirty approach, using this diamond and some complicated runes I worked on with Reventage I was able to send a one-way message to Garrim. Naturally, this was no particular big effort for a mage of my skill so a very simple yet clear message was sent off:

We need to talk urgently, contact me as soon as you are able. Brac’ar

He responded very quickly

I am not safe, you are not safe, watch your back until I can get in touch.

That gave me pause to think, my master, not safe? So instead of running off in pursuit of the Old Lizard’s minions, I decided I needed to try to get my master here, or at least find out he was not safe, and perhaps also get him out of trouble.

So off we went to Dalanthar, to Haysenfend Threelions, whom I had not met before, but had heard about.
Acacea knew which house was his, which in the end wasn’t too difficult as there were three lions basking in the sun outside of it.
Master Haysenfend turned out to be a very kind and noble human, and invited us in. He was having a meeting, so I cut right to the chase and asked him about the adamantium bascinet. Further in the house, there were muffled voices, but as I was not invited in further, I remained near the door. Our curious Halfling of course, did not, and she wandered further into the house.
She appeared again and mentioned that the esteemed elven spellweaver Melizaphei was actually there, as well as another mage. We were invited further in, and I was introduced to Melizaphei. The man, Armand Tru’vador, immediately recognized me, and started to ask me about the draconic sliver that was inside my body, and how I was faring with that.
After having explained to him that I was coping with it, but that it was essentially a wound in my leg that never closed and permanently oozed pus, he was satisfied for the moment.

Haysenfend came back from his vault with the bascinet and we discussed what I intended to do with it. I explained Garrim’s situation and what I wanted to do, and asked if Melizaphei would not be able to ask Jaldrix, the Weird of Fire for assistance.
She kindly did and sent him off.
While we waited, I inquired if they had ever heard of the Rhun Zharr. To my surprise, they had, and looking back I probably should not have been surprised at all, considering the caliber of mages gathered here.
They then mentioned more people were coming, and shortly thereafter, more mages arrive, Moraken of Hlint and Gracielle Elthronialas of the Tower of Fire, , Je’linda Thresoa , and the illustrious Xora.

I explain what I know of the tome, and the further I got, the clearer it became clear that Fisterion should not have it. Armand, who has a tower on Northern Dregar, indicated that there had been an increased magical activity around Firemountain, making it now impervious to scrying attempts, so something was definitely going on there.

Then Jaldrix returns and lets us know that the city Garrim was in, called The Bazaar, was under siege by an army of fire elementals, and nobody could get in or out. He wasn’t able to determine who was controlling them, nor could he reach Garrim.
I thought this was too much of a coincidence; perhaps even old Fisty was controlling them. It was time to take Fisterion up on his standing invitation from years ago, the one he gave after I had mentioned the idea to return the dragon gods of magic and return control of the Weave to them as potential cause to ally the dragons against Sinthar Bloodstone.

The idea that had led to the brutal insertion of the draconic sliver of the Broken One into my very being, giving me a taint.
A taint that was slowly killing me...


//to be continued, 18 months after the fact is a bit too long :)