Derrick's Journal

[cappyra]

*Derrick sits at the small desk in his house in Leilon.  He stares at the blank pages of the black leather bound journal.  He thinks back to a point in his past. . .

It seemed so long ago. . .

A loud crash was heard from the other room.  The old man rushed in to see the warrior lying on the floor struggling to stand on broken legs.  The warrior spat curses and beat the floor with his fist.

"You will not be able to stand for some time... if ever."

"curses”

“Struggle as you may…  the pain will only get worse…”

The warrior continued to struggle, knocking over tables and chairs.  Soon he was covered in a sheen of sweat from the effort.   Wounds reopened and bled freely from the exertion.   The warrior collapsed and fell unconscious.

Time passed.

Derrick awoke from the abyss of darkness, the demons slain, he was covered in blood and gore from the battle.  His eyes opened and he could see the blurry outline of someone standing over him.  He reached for his blades and discovered he could not move his hands.  He was securely bound.   He flexed and strained but there was not enough strength in his bones to free himself.  

“I’ll kill you!!!”  

Struggling.

“No,  you will kill yourself if you keep acting this way.   Be at peace warrior… the battle is over and you are broken.”

Derrick relaxed and stopped struggling.

Pain.  

Pain was an old acquaintance.    The pain arced through every fiber of his body.   Derrick only smiled.   Blood ran from the corner of his mouth.   Pain…  it let you know you were alive.

“I have no idea how you still live.  I am no healer but I do take care of my animals if they get hurt or sick.   I did the best I could for you.   It looks like the infection is cleaned up.   Just rest.    Drink this.”

The old man offered a bowl of liquid to Derrick.  Derrick drank the offered liquid.   It burned like Dwarven Gin going down then spread a warm and numbing sensation to his limbs.

It had been a fortnight since the old man had nearly run the warrior over with his wagon.   At first he thought an animal had been torn apart and left in the road until he saw the glint of metal. What he found in the road could barely be recognized as a man.  The farmer thought the man was dead when the warrior’s hand went reflexively to where a weapon should be.   The man was encased in battered and broken armor.  Some pieces of the armor were dented so badly they had bit deeply into flesh.    Blood had mixed with dirt and grime to cake on the man’s hair and skin.   The farmer managed to load him into the wagon.    Once back at the farm the old man used what tools he had to cut the man out of the armor.    The old man used what knowledge he had to stitch wounds and splint broken bones.   He figured the man would die from wounds so grievous so he just made him comfortable.   A few days passed, then a week.  The warrior was for the most part unconscious.   The farmer just gave him water and a mixture of  stout, oats and strong liquor to ease the pain.

As the old man cleaned the warrior's wounds he was amazed at the scars criss crossing the mans body.  He took note of the strange discoloration and scars around the warriors neck… as if he had been bound by a collar of some type for an extended period of time.   The old man’s brow furrowed as he looked at the warrior’s back.   He had seen marks like that before,  he had cared for animals that had been beaten with a whip…  the scars were unmistakable.   There was hardly flesh on the warriors back that was not scarred in such a way.

“This man was a slave?”  mused the old man.

Time.

The old man sat quietly.  Thumbing through the pages of a worn leather bound book.  

“Got any food, or better yet got any ale.”

The old man looked up.   Other than spitting curses and threats it was the first real words from the warriors mouth.

“Well…  so you don’t want to kill me then”, the old man said smiling.

“I guess not.”

The old man approached the bed and looked with pity upon the warrior.  Looking again upon the  scars old and new.  A story of pain and suffering was told.

“I don’t need your pity old man.  I need food and ale.”

“What is your name warrior.”

“Derrick”

“Very well Derrick.   Do not make me sorry for scooping you up off the road.”

With that the man turned and walked to the door.   Shortly he returned with food and drink.

“You gonna untie me?”

“No…   not until I am certain you will not harm me nor harm yourself.   I have tended your wounds for over a month now.   I would hate to see all my hard work be for naught.”

The old man fed Derrick.  Derrick ate hungrily and drank down the ale.

As time passed Derrick’s strength started to return and the old man finally untied him.    The old man gave Derrick crutches he had made and soon he was out of bed and moving around.   The old man was curious of the warriors past and Derrick reluctantly gave him bits and pieces.  The old man was shocked, appalled, surprised, saddened and horrified all at once.   He chose not to judge Derrick.   Each man has a path that he must follow and until the end  it is uncertain whether the path will end in good or ill.

The old man placed a book in front of Derrick.

“What do yer want me ta do with this?”

“Read it.”

Derrick hesitated a moment.

“I dunno how.  N’er needed too.”

“In the event you are unable to continue your current trade you should try to use your brain, instead of your brawn.”

“Bah!  I’ll be up an around soon,”  Derrick replied pushing the book away.

“The old man gently pushed the book back.   Whether you recover or not, you should learn.  While your skill with those swords may be unmatched, knowledge is power.”

Derrick thought about picking up the book and hurling it at the old man but stopped.   The old man had helped him… and shown him, kindness?  Something he was unfamiliar with.

“You have only time Derrick.  Spend it wisely.  I will teach you.”

Derrick nodded.

As the weeks crawled by Derrick became an apt student.   The old man was surprised at how quickly the warrior was learning.   Perhaps there was a brain behind those scars after all.  

“You will need this knowledge someday.  Mark my words,” stated the old man.

Derrick’s strength grew and soon he was moving around with just a cane.  Another week and he no longer needed it.

“Your recovery is quite remarkable.  Your tenacity is unparalled.  You simply will not die.”

“Bah!  I been in worse shape.”

The old man might have taken this as a joke had he not seen the scars.

“Derrick I need your help.”

“Well I reckon I owe you so name it.”

“My farm is failing.  I can no longer till my fields or put up hay for the winter to feed my livestock.   The barn leaks and soon the taxes will be due.   I am afraid I will be begging the streets soon.  Even in your state you are stronger than I.”

Derrick nodded.  “I’ll do what I can.”

“Derrick worked the farm under the old man’s guidance.  As the months passed Derrick’s strength grew.   He would toil all day long and read and write in the evening.   When the harvest came, it came in abundance.   The livestock was healthy and the old man was able to finally make enough money for taxes.”

Fall came and Derrick seemed to be fully recovered.  He took up his blades and began practicing.  It felt good to have steel in his hands again.

“I’m leaving.”

The old man knew those words were coming.   Derrick opened his pack that the old man had never opened.  It had sat with the rest of his equipment for all these months.   He reached inside and pulled out a large sack and dropped it on the floor by the old man’s chair.   A loud jingling could be heard as it hit the floor.

“A small price to pay for giving me my life back,” stated Derrick.

With that the Dark Warrior turned and walked out the door.



Derrick picked up the Quill and began writing in the Journal.

[cappyra]

A cruel life and circumstance has made me what I am.

I look into the blade and see my reflection.   The blade is reflected in my eyes.

My mastery of the long sword continues to grow.  With each battle my skill is honed to a finer edge.  

Karrak’s Weaponry

I heard tales recently of Karrak’s Weaponry…

Several centuries ago, when Xantril was still called the Roughlands, the Guild of Power was the place where fighters and weapon masters from all over Layonara came to practice and hone their skills to perfection.  Once every decade, the Guild’s founder, Karrak, and his successors would host the Guild Championships, one for every type of melee weapon. The Championships would go on for weeks, but in the end, there would be a winner for every type of melee weapon. These skilled fighters would then be anointed Master of the weapon in question. This was not just a ceremonial title, as the new Masters would also receive the Master’s Weapon. These weapons were specially commissioned by Karrak when he founded his Guild, and a Master would bear the weapon for a decade. These weapons were not just ceremonial, but things of beauty and power. A Master’s weapon could be recognized by the Guild of Power’s emblem somewhere on the weapon’s striking surface.

Unfortunately, the Guild has been destroyed and Karrak’s weaponry has been scattered across the continents, the owners probably not even aware of the history and the power of the weapons they possess.

When I heard this tale I felt compelled to learn more.  A Master’s Weapon.  Would that a blade such as spoke of could be found.

[cappyra]

You would think that I would find more than I have.   Anyone in Arabel who may have known of Karrak's Weaponry is either dead or no longer here.   It has been months since I began searching.   The legends of Karrak's weaponry seem common enough, yet no addition information is to be found.   I thought perhaps on Xantril I would find an answer.   It seems that Blood's rampage has scattered those with knowledge and replaced them with demons and monsters.

I have returned to Mistone.  My search did not bear fruit.    Since my return I have heard that the Great Library has been reestablished.  Good.  The money I put into the project has finally paid off.   I will search the library.  Surely there must be some knowledge to be gained.

[cappyra]

*Derrick slams the book shut.

Nothing.   Not a single word concerning Karrak.   The library is enormous with thousands of books.   I spent nearly two weeks in the library reading through tomes with no luck.

I guess I need to seek out the Bard.  While some would have sought him out first, I thought I would search on my own.   Besides after speaking with Ozymandias I always find myself with more questions than answers.

[cappyra]

I ran into the dwarf Deiwos today.    He told me that he had been looking for me.   He asked that I take him as a student to learn the art of Weapons Master.  

I agreed to teach him.   My first instruction was about technique and intimidation.  Deiwos is a strong warrior and picked up the concepts quickly.   He seems closer to his goal than he thinks.
We will see.

[cappyra]

I ran into the Bard today in Hlint.  He was coughing up blood as usual.   His wound is deep inside.

I asked him about Karrak’s Weaponry.   His response was even more cryptic than I could have imagined.  Between bouts of coughing he told me to seek out Plenarius Ashley and ask him about Katia.  Then and only then would he speak to me about Karrak’s weaponry.

I have met Plenarius on several occasions.  I have even conducted business with him.    I sent him a letter.  

I have no idea why Katia would have anything to do with Karrak or weapons.   I will follow the Bard’s instructions however.   I have little other choice.

[cappyra]

*In hurriedly written notes


I met with Plenarius.   I have never seen a man with wings before.  He seems to have grown them since last we met.

He told me of three adventurer’s Katia, Eon and Karrack.    The three trapped one named Drezneb.   Katia then took on the shape of a dolphin and carried Eon and Karrack to safety.

Eon became hungry with power and fell in with Blood.  In Eon’s betrayal to his friends the Great Forest was harmed.

Even though Eon has been consumed with power and is a General of Blood, Katia believes he can still be saved and his soul returned to balance.

Something of a Wizards tower destroyed by Katia yet the entrance to Eon’s stronghold of power still exists.

The tower is somewhere along the Thalos river.   Plenarius has entrusted me with the location of the secret entrance within the tower.  It is on the second floor, east wall under a shelf.  There lies a hidden trap door and the entrance to Eon’s old dungeon.

Plenarius spoke of a Silver Dragon that guarded the cave of the Metallic Dragons.   Katia fell in love with the dragon and saved it from destruction.   Katia’s deed allowed her to ascend to the Pantheon.

I asked Plenarius what happened to Karrak.   He said that was a good question.

Plenarius told me he would pray to katia and hopefully gain some knowledge of Karrak.

*In somewhat neater script.

I wonder why the Bard asked me to talk to Plenarius about Katia concerning Karrak’s Weaponry.
There may be some connection in their old friendship.  Katia ascended to become a deity.  Eon became hungry for power and joined Blood and became one of his generals.   But what of Karrak?   According to legend he created the Guild of Power…  but what happened to him then.

I will allow Plenarius time to seek guidance from his goddess.    I suppose now it is back to the Bard…

[cappyra]

What am I searching for?  I have found it already it seems.  What I have found is not what I thought I was searching for…  but what I have really been seeking my entire life.

Purpose.

Something has changed inside me.   For the first time the blood has been wiped from my eyes and I can see.  

I understand now that my existence has brought me to this point.  This point of choices.  

I spoke once again with the Bard.    Never has his words rang so clear.   Never have I heard him provide information so direct.   I did not expect to have the answers so quickly.  

I have the answers.

The path however remains to be uncovered.

Karrak was a friend and ally of Katia and Eon.   There came a time when the adventurers disbanded, each to find their own destiny.

Karrak founded the Guild of Power and subsequently had the test of champions to win Karrak’s weaponry,  a weapon of each type to go to the one who Mastered it.

I sought knowledge of the Longsword of Karrak.

The Longsword of Karrak was forged by Elven and Dwarven smiths.  Forged from Mithril and amplified by the combination of ancient elven magic and holy power channeled through the priests of Vorax.  A ruby of unsurpassed beauty is embedded in the hilt.  The crossguard is broad with magical runes inscribed on the blade.  Each strike with the blade resonates with a force that deafens and maims the enemy.

The last weilder of the blade was a woman named Llindril.   She disappeared in the Mountains of Dregar long ago.   Legend has it that she was slain by the mighty giants and that the blade is wielded by their leader…   but as a Master of the longsword, and that longsword being the Sword of Karrak it is not likely the woman succumbed to such a fate.

She was likely held in reverence by the Barbarian tribes that live in the mountains.  Upon her death as is their culture, the blade was placed with her in a burial tomb.   Legend has it that one deemed worthy by the tribe would be allowed to enter the sacred burial pass and claim the blade.   Without the guidance and permission of the tribe it would be impossible to discover the site.

The Spirit of Llindral is said to guard the blade and will not give up the blade without a fight
as it was in the days of the Guild of Power.

 The blade also has an additional power.   When the weapons of Karrak are used in the defense of Layonara, the previous Masters of the blade and those that forged the weapon will rise and aid the wielder.

The words of the bard settled around me.   I had no doubts in my abilities as a Master of the blade…   but I wondered if I would be worthy to wield such a weapon.

Ozymandias had helped me in a way that no other had before.   He opened my eyes.   I asked him what I could do for him for his help.

“Find the Sword”

With my eyes open I looked inward and saw selfishness.   I asked what I could do to help Layonara.

“You could restart the Academy of Karrak”

Again the words…  clarity…  they fell about me like heavy stones.

The Bard went on to say that Drezneb, would stop any attempt at such.   Again the name of Drezneb was spoken.   I asked Ozymandias to tell me of Drezneb.

Drezneb is a powerful Lich that was once known as Shalic Layor.   Long ago Shalic Layor campaigned to gain control of what is now Dreger, Xantril and Rilara.    At the height of his power he created three items of enormous power.  A ring, an amulet and a cloak.

Shalic Layor was betrayed by his closest advisor and the items taken and hidden.   Shalic Layor arose as the Lich Drezneb and regained the cloak.   He seeks the other two items with all his power.  

I now have purpose but must choose the direction.    First I think I will seek out Plenarius again and find out what happened to Karrak.   I need more understanding of Karrak if I am to wield a weapon and possibly rebuild his academy.

I need to continue to hone my skills.   It is certain that my skills will be tested.  While I am a Master…   I am still also a student.    

I must speak with Plenarius again about Katia.   There is a bond between the goddess and Karrak.   Perhaps honoring Karrak by serving Katia would better help me understand.

[cappyra]

I been searching Dreger for many months now looking for a tribe of barbarians.  The only thing I have found
have been a group of madmen in the Rolling Hills.  Not really mountains but by their dress and weapons they appeared to be barbaric.   But barbarians are not savages, which these men seemed to be.

No sign of Plenarius.  I've looked fer him to appear in the Leilon Arms one night but no...

[cappyra]

My thoughts and will had been turned away from the Sword and Karrack.  

Unexpectedly the message came...

As I walked into my room I found a cloaked figure stading there by my fireplace.  He made no movements as I entered.  Before I could query him he turned and spoke quietly.

"Derrick Loadson I have a message for you.  He merely turned and placed a sealed letter on the desk.  Then moved swiftly to step into the majik portal I thought was well concealed."

A little surprised I moved to the desk and picked up the letter I noticed that it was not actually sealed, but was rolled and threaded through a thick bronze band.   I removed the letter and read.

Oslin

I read the rest of the letter and pocketed the bronze band.

Finally a tangable lead to finding the sword...  and much much more. . .

I must gather those I can trust...

[cappyra]

It has been a month since my trip to Xantril.  I should write down some notes here least I forget them.

What I found on Xantril was much much more than I anticipated, but nowhere close to what I expected.  I nearly failed completely in my search because my mind was clouded in what I was expecting.  I must remember to look more closely and pay more attention if I am to be successful.  Perhaps that is the reason I have failed in my search.

Details

I am a Master of the Blade but I have much to learn about what it is to be a True Master.  It is more than being a proficient killer.  

I have discovered that I am not alone in my search.  There are others.  I will not write who or what or where.  There is too much at risk.  I had discovered earlier that Drezneb would do try to stop the rebuilding of the academy.  It seems that Blood would also want to stop any attempts at rebuilding the academy or finding any of the weapons of Karrak for that matter.  I have been sworn to secrecy.  My life would be forfeit if I spoke of such, but that is not the highest price.  Any that I would tell would also suffer the same fate.  Those that are searching are serious about staying anonymous.  Dead serious.  So I cannot,  must not divulge the truth to those with me, those I trust.  It does not change the situation however.  The dangers of the tasks remain the same.  The reasons are just different.

I have been given a list of tasks.  A measure of my ability to follow direction and a test of my resourcefulness and abilities.  While I was given a choice of several tasks I am only required to complete one of them.  

I wonder if this is also a test?  

I feel that I should do more.  I want them to know that I am not only determined, but also capable.

The first task would be to search the Scarab Cave for someone.  I have only entered this place once. . .  The gargantuan beetles that inhabit that place are a dangerous foe.  Thier pincers can cut through the toughest armor like cheese.

The second, to face a deadly beholder in a cave near to the Scarab Cave.  I must face the creature in single combat and return with an eyestalk.

Third, enter the Cave of a Thousand Eyes.  Find the leader and procure his Axe.  I am sure he will not deliver it unto my hands willingly.  I have also stepped into this abysmal place once before.  I saw my comrads fall quickly before the blades of those black orcs.  This is probably the most daunting. . .

Finally.  While not a task persay...  It appears there is an insult that needs to be repaid.  I need to find the Leader of the Fiendal Orcs and remove the head of said leader.  Again I doubt he will willingly deliver it to me.

All tasks are difficult to say the least.  But so is my path.  I will not turn aside.  There is only success...

or Death.

I will only take those willing to risk their lives in order to complete these tasks.  I will not look down on those unwilling.  It may be a fools errand after all.  Nothing may come of it.  I must say that those who went with me... went without question.  I consider them...  Friends.  A word I have recently discovered actually has meaning.

Trust

I must make ready for my tasks.  Gather those... friends around me who are willing.

[cappyra]

*tucked here is an old faded poster

http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=16249&posts=5

The Leilon Arms Inn and Tavern

What started off as a business venture has turned out to be more than I could have ever imagined.  The returns more valuable than gold.

Over a year ago Quin and I decided to take on this venture.  Our first attempt actually failed due to the supposed death of Quin. . .  when he stumbled back into town battered but not quite dead...  we started fresh at a new location.

Now... what a success it is.  The partnership of Quin, Meself, Kali, Jharl and occasionally Acacea seems more like...

*stops here the ink bleeds through the paper as if the pen sat on the page for some time

... like the family I never had.

Encouraged by the success we will continue to grow.  Our plan is well on it's way to being complete.

[cappyra]

I don't usually dream but when I do... it is usually of death. But last night my dream was much different... and when I awoke... I discovered it was not a dream at all.

I watched her sleep for a while this morning. If I told her my thoughts she would say I was going soft and likely gouge out my liver.

I know her journey will be a long one so I let her sleep. I packed some food for her journey... and some Firewood Lager.

I made her a black silk scarf with embroidered musical notes to wrap around her fiery locks. I n'er made nothin like that so I hope she likes it.

*it looks like there was more written here but it has been crossed out

[cappyra]

** Several pages have been torn from the journal here[/i]


I have completed a task as required.  The weapon I have retrieved from that black pit has the look of a powerful weapon.   The markings I cannot discern.   "They" should know however if it is or is not one of the weapons of Karrak.

I could not have accomplished this without help.  Those I trust...  and call friends accompanied me.  While the truth has no bearing on the danger involved, it bothers me that I cannot tell them.  But... I must protect them... and myself so the facade must continue.

I have questions now... and concerns about them.   In my haste to gain more knowledge I was eager to do whatever it took to get into their circle.  Now... after some reflection I am not so sure.  Also my "contact" provided some information as to their workings...  his comments were less than flattering of the upper collective.   Also as a reminder...  I will ask him again for the sign before I devulge any information.

I am not so sure my end goal...  will be harmonious with theirs.

I will have to speak with the Bard again about the markings.   He looked at the Axe yet was not forthcoming with information.

[cappyra]

I have made the sign as directed by my contact.   I have now only to wait for his appearance.

So many questions.   Answers will not be forthcoming I imagine.  

I will wait.

[cappyra]

*Day one:

After travelling half the length of Dreger we finally reached Xora's tower.  I had only been here once before. . .  enroute to Firesteep, but that is another tale.  A large number of people were assembled there.  Some faces where known...  of those not familiar... I had certianly heard their names.

We approached the tower and after some time the door opened.  Through the door stepped a tall woman.  She had a certian presence...  that excuded power unleashed.  Much like one of the Sisters.

She spoke with Kobal about a number of things...  but specifically concerning the possibility of a bloodpool.  Soon Kobal left as bade by Xora to retreive something of importance.   The tower door slammed and we were left un the rain by the tower.  Dark clouds gathered.

*Day four:

Many days have passed and no sign of Kobal.  Many are concerned and verbally state that he should not have gone alone.  I will wait.  I have commited myself to this and I will see it through.  

*Day five:

Kobal returned this morning.  With him another Dwarf.  This must be the Thane...  the one he spoke of in his tale.  Kobal pounded on the door of the tower calling for Xora.  Many hours passed before the door once again opened.  This time Xora was less receptive if not somewhat irritated.  The power contained within barely controlled.  There was an exchange between the three and after some talk the woman...  Xora seemed to grow less irritated and more concerned.
She reentered the tower.  The tower came alive with power and there was apparently some great magic was being exerted there.  Xora returned and gave something to Kobal. She confirmed that indeed a bloodpool existed under Norand.  Supposedly what was contained in the pouch was to be used to destroy the bloodpool.  A drained and gaunt Xora turned entered the tower.  Kobal looked up from the pouch and asked how to use it...  as the door slamed shut.  Kobal banged on the door repeating his question but no answer.


Day Eight:  

Enmass we headed across Dreger toward Norand.  The group was unharried.  Any foes turned away or chose not to show agression towards such a large and well armed group...  practically a small army.  On this day we reached the foot of the mountain where we found the Loremaster.  He had obviously seen many battles.  Old even for a dwarf and he was missing a hand and a leg.  He seemed to get along well despite this.

We began our climb an approached where the Loremaster said the entrance should be.  Then we were set upon by the Giant Clans.  They must have watched us climp the slope and waited.  to ambush us.  Their wait and ambush was in folly as they were cut down viciously.


Day ten:  These pickaxes sold by the local merchants are worthless.  I have broken at least three trying to clear the rubble that has blocked the entrance. Regardless we are still making progress.

Day twelve:  Never before have I seen such.  Wave after wave of undead.  The halls are crawling with them.  I would hack down two or three and twice thier number would rise in thier place.  Powerful undead as well.  Last our way forward was a great Demon blocking out path forward.  A great battle ensued and the Demon was slain but. . . .


Blood smears the page here

[cappyra]

Betrayed...   Blast...  

How could I have been fooled so...  I should have known...  I even asked... demanded  to see the sign but the silver tongued Dwarf's words seemed so plausable... and he knew the innerworkings of an organization that I was led to believe was so secretive...

Maybe he used to be one of them...

In my eagerness I was so quick to fall in with them... my questions so few I just took their words... as the truth.  In retrospect there are many more questions I would ask...   Why did they not give me a stronger warning?  How did he know I was with them?

Can I even trust them?  Perhaps when it comes to the weapons of Karrak... no one can be trusted.  

Then the deal...  long ago I would have taken the Dwarf's deal...  but that was long ago...  It was... easier not caring...  so many things have changed....  

Trust and loyalty...  I have chosen sides in things and I detest betrayal... as it has visited me many times.   I will not become what I detest.

I am a killer...

I killed to survive... for the pleasure of the crowd...  I was a slave

I killed to survive... the money bought things I needed... I wanted... I was a mercenary

I killed to hone my skills... to test myself...  to prepare for an inevitable battle that will take my life...  I am a Master of the Blade.

I kill so that others will not have to...  or would be... I am efficient... it is my trade... Death is my craft...  I kill to free, to protect... to preserve...  

I have changed...

Nothing to do now... what is done is done.  Now I wait...