Tome of the Scarlet Hawk

[Olme]

****  Jharl sits in the shadows of a strange tower located somewhere deep in the High Forest. Although there are 12 in the party he sits off by himself, glancing furtively around at the others every few seconds as he tries to write….. The distribution of the group is most strange. Bilvikki sits a bit away from Jharl. He and Jharl exchange worried glances. Savin is busy trying to decipher the runes that encircle the tower, while Brac works relentlessly on the wards and traps of the door to attempt to gain safe passage inside.

As for the others…

 Rev and Rolf are side by side under a tree, talking softly and looking only at each other.
Alantha and Connor sit huddled together, oblivious to the rest of the world.
Katrien and Rufus do little but stare into each others eyes.
Acacea is uncharacteristically quiet as all her thoughts are preoccupied with Athus. ****

Lovesick .... I know no other word to describe it. It began simply enough with a duet. Acacea sang the blue song, Alantha the red. When they had stopped: four love struck couples that have seemingly lost all perspective. Talk to them, try to reason with any of them:  they will assure you all that all is right and go back to their preoccupation with their newly found ‘partner’. Talk some more to them: you either get angry denials or ignored.

Bil , Savin, Brac, myself were not struck by this strange magic.
   
 Somehow we pushed on deeper into the forest. I know not how we fought our way to this tower past all manner of demons guarding the route, yet here we stand. There is a shrine; seemingly a burial plot behind the tower. Strange runes everywhere.  Thankfully Brac and Savin are most competent in matters of the arcane. Bilvikki and I maintain a nervous vigil over the others. Hours have slipped by as Brac works on the door.

Wait. Brac is descending the steps. He has defeated the traps.

Time to move into this tower.

** Jharl puts the journal away, and checks his armor. He then looks at each of the ‘couples’ in turn for a moment, turns to Brac, Savin and Bil and says: “I don’t know what is inside that tower friends but my skill is with this hammer. May the Lady and the Scarlet Hawk watch over us.” He takes a last drink from his canteen, and pulls his helm on secure. He picks up his warhammer and shield and heads for the steps.***

[Olme]

*** Jharl once again sits outside the tower. His face is the color of ash. What is left of his armor, lies in an almost unrecognizable, discarded heap nearby. He writes with an unsteady hand, his thoughts disjointed, the script almost unrecognizable.***

The Tower ..that accursed tower..

And so Brac'ar defeated the wards on the door. We dispatched Bil's familiar to do did a bit more looking around before charging in. Poor Bilvikki was completely distraught when his familiar was destroyed by a golem. We should have paid more attention.

The other side of the door: A main hall with strange huge statues (or are they golems?) Indoor gardens with herbs --somehow maintained but how ?. More runes. A dead creature (apparently a demon of some sort but with human skin grafted onto it.) The place reeks of death and decay.

Two smaller rooms; one to either side.
The first room: guarded by an iron golem. Inside : glass statues of all manner of creature, notes on enchanting and projecting life forces into golems. It seems some sort of sick wizards playground. Acacea somehow released a small deer from a statue that then bounded into the tower.
The second room: A personal study with notes left that tell of altruistic goals and some sort of betrayal.

We spent hours (or was it a day ?) carefully looking this all over. I must leave it for others to say what was gleaned here.
 
I think that dank place affected our spirits for we went from caution to foolish abandon as we moved deeper into the tower. I could see two golems ahead and shouted words of caution but to no avail. We were soon overwhelmed by golems..everywhere. I made a stand as best I could. I prayed that the others would get back as I knew my doom approached. The golems knocked me flat and then it was if I were floating free, my spirit unbound. The sounds of battle waned and ceased. Good I think. My death was not in vain ..the others got out. All was quiet for a moment. Peaceful. A golem appeared, cradled my body, and carried it deeper into the tower. Even my spirit became overwhelmed as my body sank into some sort of ooze.

It was only much later that my shaken comrades made their way back into that tower at great peril to find us.  Us.. for five of the twelve had fallen in that battle. I know not how they found the courage, the will. Yet they somehow found our bodies ....festering  in a pool ...being used for some dark purpose.

I must rest.
We must go back.

[Olme]

***  The group of adventurers is once again camped out on the riverbank  in the gloom of the Tower of Strands.  Although Jharl is exhausted, sleep will not come to him. He glances around the campsite at the others:  Acacea sits by the light of the campfire softly cooing to Diamond.  Brac’ar and Savin are both totally absorbed studying books retrieved from the tower. Connor hovers about a battered Alantha trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Rev and Rolf are still huddled together off by themselves. Katrien sits beside a sleeping Rufus, as if standing vigil. Bilvikki is talking excitedly to Plen about his ‘release’.  
   Jharl slowly rises, retrieves a log and revives the flagging fire. His eyes briefly make contact with Plen’s, and he manages a grim smile. He then settles back against the tree and finds his battered journal and a quill. A look of concentration crosses his face as he begins to write .***

I know I write this with my thoughts jumbled and confused, but perhaps by putting these words down it will somehow help clear my mind. I think that my words are a poor conduit for what transpired here.

Other adventurers joined us at the tower. They were most welcome as our ranks are depleted by the incapacity of the lovesick. As many were able went once again into that tower. One of the newcomers decided that the dead demon should be examined more closely. His curiosity led to a release of some sort of spores. Several of us then became very ill. I think I eventually collapsed but when I came around I found that my body was transformed to that of a demon. A demon!! First a golem, now a demon. The same fate had befallen Savin. I must admit that I lost all hope at this point but, thankfully my comrades did not. They were able, after much perseverance and the use of a unicorn’s horn, to restore us.
 All manner of disaster then befell our group. Person after person succumbed to one trap or another. I think the Soulmother even made claim to a shard of Bivikki’s soul, yet he was not dismayed but proclaimed his ‘release.’

And yet we pressed on in our investigation.

When magical paintings were discovered, the mages, after long debate amongst themselves, attempted to summon what was apparently entrapped there. Every time they would cast their spells though the tower was rocked, as if in an earthquake. They eventually went a bit too far and released an angry entity bent on destroying us all. Ferocious combat followed and our group ended up scattered to all parts of the tower. Again though, the horn of the unicorn prevailed.

Our group reassembled as Brac’ar managed to summon yet another from a painting. She was the ‘owner’ of the tower and knew of none of our troubles. She told a tale of happiness and joy as she planned to wed one of Ilsare soon. (apparently in another time long since past)  She talked of yet another tower owned by her betrothed.

So what now ?

 Perhaps Brac’ar and Savin will know more soon.

*** Jharl’s mind slowly drift off to another time and place. Thoughts of Ausir’s light shimmering on the still water of a peaceful lake, the sparkling in her eyes, the softness of her touch, a magical night with his ceela.  The quill falls from his hand as sleep claims him. ***

[Olme]

*** Jharl sits at the desk in his room in Leilon. The fire burns low, yet it is enough to keep the chill that rides on the ocean breeze at bay. He thinks for a moment of the words that will conjure light but then glances over at her sleeping form and instead lights a candle. He carefully sets the candle down and shields it so that only enough light to write by remains. He finds a quill, opens his journal and begins. ***

Home at Leilon. I say these words because that is what this has truly become. Home. Never have I known such peace. The world and all its trouble spin as if in a great maelstrom on the sea and yet I find my solace here with her at my side. I think that there are many who would not understand this, indeed would look on us as *ink blotted*  …ot what they may think or even say.  
She grows weary of the formal instruction yet her tenacity, persistence remains. I am of no value in deciphering arcane phrases in dusty tomes. So I help with the more practical application of her arts. I located a couple of scrolls that proved to be a boon to her, and I think, saved her many months of study.  I think she grows used to the hardships of traveling through the wilderness, but if she has not, I have never heard her utter a word of complaint.
The trip with Derrick set new thoughts into my head. It was one that most would call a fools' errand and I cannot say I would disagree, but that thought would never pass my lips. I think the combat was the worst I have ever partaken in. It was a testament to what teamwork and leadership can do for I am sure that few have ever walked away from the depths of that pit. We did. Strangely though, the most telling moment occurred in Arabel as we set off into the wild. Derrick handed Kali his book and told her to carry on if…. That moment above all others stays with me.
Perhaps another fools’ errand looms. I feel a calling, a yearning to get word and news back to my people. I owe them that. I have begun to scout the foothills of the Greypeaks, but all the signs are discouraging. It has become a playground of the ogres and even some giants. I think I will need the help of others to prepare to do what I must. I will discreetly seek the counsel of Katrien and Derrick over the best course of action and tactics. I can not afford to endanger others with this, at least until I know what I may face.


There is a ritual that some in my clan practice when they find one that they  *inkblotted* ..... that this ritual is more widely known.  I am sure if she does not know of it, that there are those at the temple that can instruct, even perform it.

*** Jharl glances over at her sleeping form and slowly smiles***

    Yes, I think I will ask her of this great honor. Tomorrow.

*** He stops and looks a bit at the journal but finds that there is nothing to be added. He carefully puts the ink and quill away and douses the candle. He sits and watches the low shadows playing on the wall for many minutes lost in his thoughts.  He then quietly moves back beside her and quickly settles in to sleep ***

[Olme]

Lucinda provides.

Often have I heard those words, but now I have caught a glimpse of their meaning.

We had gathered for a rare reunion. Tia, Briar, Samir, and I settled in around the fire in the kitchen, snacking on pie, warm mugs of tea all around, talking of things in that comfortable manner of good friends . We were soon joined by two others: Storold and Ma’er .They had heard that Tia was finally home and had ventured to Leilon to greet her. Introductions all around were barely complete, when the summons came.

An official messenger from the church: Tia was needed in Spellgard with all haste. Now I know little of the workings of the Lady’s faith, but a messenger?  Only something of major importance would warrant that. We quickly packed and got on the road. On arrival at the temple, Tia was quickly ushered in for a private audience. It was at this time that Ma’er took ill. The healer at the temple took custody of him, expecting that we will recover in a few days. Samir also reluctantly bid us farewell; he had urgent business of his own in Spellgard.

Hours later, Tia emerged, worry and concern etched on her face. She had been charged with investigating a strange illness that was devastating the village of Drake. We traveled there as quickly as we could, to find a horrific scene:  Every person was violently ill, even the animals appeared sick. She tried healing some; it had but a temporary affect.
Even as she ministered to those she could, others succumbed, their corpses quickly transforming to undead that tried to strike at us. Now I have seen a lot, but never like this. It was grim work indeed to have to strike down these recently innocent townsfolk we were trying to help that had become such foul apparitions before our very eyes.  But at least we now knew two things: some dark necromancy was at work, and that the townsfolk said it had come from the wood.

A hasty conference determined our course of action. We would venture into this wood to find the source of this poison. I looked around at our small band:  Storold with his sword and shield, Tia, staff at the ready, and Briar, as always, an arrow notched in her bow.
A meager force to be sure, but lives in Drake were at stake, we must press on.

The woods were haunted with dark unnatural areas, spawning grounds for more undead that dogged our every step. I had no time to concern myself with the nature of this foul use of the weave, I was too busy swinging my hammer in our defense. We ventured by overgrown little used paths that eventually led us to a cavern.  Tia and Storold felt that the aura of necromancy was strong here, and I had no doubts that they were correct. We made a hasty camp as best we could and stood watch in shifts, so that Storold might prepare some arcane magic and Tia pray.

When all were rested, we went into that dark hole. We soon found a large chamber with a very sick dwarf lying in the middle of it. He had apparently been battling these undead and was nearly spent. Tia was able to converse with him in his native tongue and he warned her that it would only get worse as we ventured deeper. Tia made him as comfortable as possible and then we moved on to be confronted with legions of skeletons and zombies. We destroyed them. Eventually we reached another chamber that contained some sort of infernal apparatus sitting within a circle. Even my poor sense of the arcane told me of a great anomaly here.  This had to be the source of the problem, but what was it and who put it here? Could we destroy it? Should we destroy it?

We decided to see if that dwarf could help or tell more. A hard battle was fought to get back to him, only to find that he had passed on. Then the rumbling and tremors started. Time was running out, but what to do?  Another look at that foul machine, perhaps something would …

More undead, more heavy fighting. Storold fell. By the grace of the Lady though, Tia was able to pull him back. Lucinda provides.  But now it was obvious to all that we had to leave or be entombed here. Reluctantly, we ventured back outside to our earlier camp. Tia was exhausted, uncertain of what to do next, the burden weighing heavy on her. Briar and I stood a grim watch while Storold recovered from his ordeal and Tia rested and prayed for guidance.

When the dim light of dawn penetrated these dark woods, we broke camp. Tia…. well it was remarkable. Gone was the uncertainty. She said she had prayed for wisdom and that her prayers had been answered. She knew the course we must follow: We four had done all we could, we must head for Drake and thence send word to the temple for those who could destroy this source of darkness. Her wisdom was soon proven correct. Even as we made our way to Drake, we met up with others sent from the temple. They took our report and arrogantly told us to get back to Spellgard.

The reception at Spellgard was at first a bit, well, hostile. The officials there treated Tia and Storold rudely and with little consideration, as if on trial for some crime. I was a bit shocked and not prepared to take that from some bureaucrat in this stuffy temple, church or not. Tia had been out in the field in the toughest of conditions doing good work on their behalf with little support from them. How dare they second guess her?  I started to speak my mind but Tia bid me quiet. Apparently, after a lot of unnecessary words, they actually are pleased with our, no, Tia’s actions and in fact are prepared to give her new duties and responsibilities.

Good. They finally come to their senses.

[Olme]

Once again I accompanied Tia’Sarr’ru to Spellgard, this time to attend a great conclave of the church. Spellgard was as I had never seen it before; the aura of magic both powerful and ornamental was everywhere. I stood long in awe when I noted that those gathered were the most important in the Lady’s church, the very pinnacle of it’s power and prestige. I realized then why sa ceela had made sure I had this fine suit to wear.

The ceremony went on for hours. Among that Affirmed were Alantha, and Daeron.
Acacea and Ozy were presented as well. Connor also  was Affirmed and  given a high position in the Tower. He had apparently done great deeds, preserving the weave from some plot of corruption. Tia stood for me as my sponsor. It was most gratifying and yet humbling to receive such public note.

And then Tia’s moment arrived. She received her official recognition and promotion. She has tried to explain the significance of this new title to me but I think it is beyond my ability to understand. What I do know, because I have witnessed it, is that the Lady shows her great favor. And why not?  She lives her life as an example of devotion and duty.

I am truly happy for her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sa ceela irilla laireaml sa illeaniram, weooamalan nelw eo meanyilc. Elanesilana, tyeamamoyc, silvenyilc. Ean oyacaw sa, le eym, tyillalaeel fmelvelv ean ane il laam caelac eo elanallaeana. E oaac nycelaam ane iram anirill E aelam anireyviran ean tyelalaefca oem ela ane fa, silveny illa E irilela laelam oacan faoema. Ean ela anmyca ellatyemelv.
Laira irilla irelanaw ilan eaniram aelal sema tyeamamoyc meanala, illw E anireln laira vilaniramla amirilan ela laawaw ane tyamoems aniras tymetyamca. Iram anastyca irilla ilclae tymeselaaw iram laamla amiral anira wilana illw cenyilaneel ill ytynyeselv oalaaneelilc ilma laaanancaw.  
E irilela illanaw iram oem iram oilelem el anira silllam eo sa anmefa illw E anireln ceela amilla lean welatycaillaaw ane irailm eo ean.
Laira irilla fanyesa anira selaanmalala eo sa irailman.

[Olme]

*** Jharl sits alone at a low burning campfire on the outskirts of Haven. To a casual passerby all looks normal. A closer look however, would reveal his tattered, frayed armor and the dried blood still on the axe beside him. If one approached close enough to observe his face, they would take note of someone clearly exhausted, distraught and at the same time on the verge of exploding in anger. ***

E caan iram weaml. Iream nyeycw E irilela faal lae nyilmacalala?  Laelam laireycw anirilan falaamnam irilela veananal tyillaan sa, E tyelaeaneelaw salaaco tyeemca, lean fcenynelv anira tyillalailva illa
E laireycw irilela, lae anirilan laira nyeycw ylaa anira amailela el lailoaana.

E amillan ane fcilsa anirilan aco el fcilnyn. Laira ellaelaanaw el anilvvelv ilcelv illw selaanmalala ilvmaaw ane anilna iram. Ela anirilan lean maillael aleyvir ane amacnyesa iram? Aaan E we lean ylwamlaanillw anira aco'la elanamalaan el yla. E anirelv ean feaniramaw sa, il tyilmana ylnleaml, ylanalaanaw oeviranelv ameanir yla. E ils ammelv anireyvir ane caan anirilan welaanmilnyan sa.

Le, anira oilycan, anira lairilsa, anira fymwal ilma sela ane failm. E sylaan we faananam.

[Olme]

Il veew irylan.

Selaanmalala amilla tycaillaaw ameanir anira lanymecc E oeylw oem iram.

E irilela favyl ane anmilel ameanir anira 'feala' (Wev illw Fmyana), anirilan ama seviran faananam oeviran anevaaniram.

[Olme]

The Fighter and the Mage

He calls himself the Scarlet Hawk.
She is a child of Xeen.
He wandered from the Greypeaks,
She fled across the sea.

He walked the roads in solitude.
She with her trusted Dog.
A song to keep him company,
No one to know her thoughts.

His prowess is with hammer,
Her skill within the weave.
His hands adept at working wood,
Hers with quill and ink.

They journeyed to Rilara,
A fateful trip indeed.
For there they found true passion,
Fulfillment of their needs.

Now they roam together,
Each stronger than alone.
To her he is sa laanilv.
A team like none before.

Once he stood alone ‘fore foes,
Now she is at his back.
He guards her with his life,
Her magics clear the paths.

She teaches him of many things,
His mind absorbs them all.
He gives her back his loyalty,
His love, his heart, his all.

Who knows where fate might take them?
What might the gods ordain?
Together they will face each test,
The Fighter and the Mage.

[Olme]

Sa ceela has decided to seek counsel at the temple. She is unsure how long she might be away. Although I am concerned, my worries are pointless; she will walk within the weave on her journey and both Dog and Brute will answer her summons should the need arise.

The Road to Lar

I came across Tia fishing along the Zainge river. She seems to have mastered the curious art of fishing with a bow. I tried my hand at it but the results were laughable. The fish have nothing to fear when I approach with bow in hand! We had an impromptu fish fry and she brought me up to date on news of the temple. Our talk soon turned to the Greypeaks. We both realized that it had far too many years since either of us had visited there. We each had some time available so we packed some provisions and set out.

The trip to Lar was relatively uneventful. The climb through the mountain pass was difficult as always but only one small band of Ogres challenged us en route. We had no problem dealing with them. Tia and I then toured the fabled town. We journeyed to the statue of Larissa, and made a humble offering. Our reward was a view as fine as any to be found on Mistone. The statues, the Citadel of Dorand, Dawson’s farm, the curious tower; we took them all in.

Lar: cold, snowy, remote, yet …. exhilarating ,invigorating. It seems timeless.

The trip back out of the mountains started off slow and unhurried. We returned by the same paths that we had trod on the way up. We had journeyed about halfway when we decided to stop for a rest and to enjoy the vista of the valley spread out below us. It was then that events began to unfold rapidly.

First a strange figure walked past us. He appeared well armed and confident, yet he spoke no greeting but moved as if we were not there. Shortly after his passing a great host of undead appeared, following as if in his wake. Now Tia and I are well versed in the tactics to deal with these foul creatures and we did so. Although they were powerful, we cleared the trail and made a hasty camp. We then moved on our way only to be confronted with seemingly endless hordes of more undead. Our tactics were sound, yet there is only so much that two are capable of. We were witnessing something far out of the ordinary. We decided to make our escape, get to town and raise the alarm.

Ft. Llast appeared deserted, so we made for Hlint. Shortly after arriving, with barely time for a rest,more undead appeared in the wastelands. A pitched battle was fought, but we did prevail.

There are whispered rumors that Eon was spotted leading this undead legion and of a bloodpool near Storans. Is this bloodpool more than rumor? Could that have been the figure that we spied in the Greypeaks?

[Olme]

A happy day indeed, Sa Ceela has returned home. She was able to get the counsel she sought at the temple.

It was my ineptitude that caused the problem. With only the best of intentions, I went too far and hurt her by opening old wounds. It was the last thing I intended and yet it happened. This bothers me greatly because if I know not the boundaries, I might yet again repeat this mistake.
Selaanmalala has assured me that I will soon understand, she will educate me and put this behind us.

But first we shall attend a festival that she has long anticipated.
Good to be back with her.

[Olme]

Haven

We will make our home in the shadow of Haven castle. In many respects, the location is ideal. The town is well patrolled. The local countryside is rich with the resources she needs for her research and, probably more importantly, it is but a short distance from that center of the arcane and Lucinda, Spellgard.

It also means we can organize our home as we see fit. I will be content with a warm fire and a well stocked pantry, but several of the rooms will be needed for her studies. One will be converted to a library to house her growing collection of manuscripts and tomes. Another may be required as a laboratory to help with her sensitive researches into alchemy. A third, no doubt, will be dedicated to Xeen. We will now be able to properly honor her goddess without risking offending others. While trips to Karthy will still be necessary, they should be less urgent in nature.

The festival: remarkable. Real yet surreal.  She was welcomed and honored as a ‘sister’. Yet,despite all of the attention and excitement, ceela was patient. She took time and effort to educate me, to make me a part of all that transpired. I have returned from it refreshed and invigorated, with new insight.

[Olme]

*** Jharl sits writing, in a ‘guest room’ of the Minaret of Symphony, a half eaten pie at his side. Bilvikki sits huddled in the corner looking around nervously. The only sound to be heard is the faint incessant babble of the halfling in the next room apparently talking to her best friend, a glass statue ***

The Minaret

And so we sought out the second tower, the home of Narsil. It had been cleverly hidden in a cloak of distorted time and space, understood by none of us, and yet found.

The atmosphere around the tower pervaded everyone with an aura of joy. All was beautiful, sunny, radiant. Surreal. Yet entry to the tower itself was warded. Song proved to be the price of admission to the inside.
We had somehow arrived on the eve of the wedding of Emily and Narsil. The minaret is abuzz with fevered preparations. Passing ourselves off as a troupe of musicians hired to play for the wedding, we were granted access. The house musicians were assembled and auditioned  for us. Their musical score was hauntingly familiar. While some of us continued the musician charade, the rest slipped off to search the tower.
I was with the group of musicians, but I soon grew weary of the inane banter of the cleric and the halfling, and so I quietly slipped away to see what I might. I soon came upon Brac and Savin feverishly studying a room loaded with all manner of arcane equipment. I would only be in their way here so I decided to move on and look for Connor or Bil .

The Minaret has an indoor garden, the finest I had ever seen. I wandered in and stopped for a moment to decide which way to head. I was about to move on when I saw a hand reach out from a copse of flowers and pick a single white bud. It was Katrien. I moved closer to see her sitting amidst the flowers, flute in hand, a single tear staining her cheek, apparently lost deep in thought.  I was about to speak, but immediately thought better of it. She, I think needed to be alone, and I my words would be nothing but a harsh intrusion. I stopped for a minute to make sure she was OK and then quietly went on my way.
We all eventually regrouped and set out to explore the rest of the tower and to find Narsil. Our self appointed leaders tried to glean some information out of him, but stumbled badly in the attempt.
We were soon rounded up by the staff and ‘put away’ for the night.
Katrien and Acacea share the room next to mine, and Bil has managed to hide in my room before we were locked in.

Well at least there is room service.
I suppose I should get some sleep.

[Olme]

** Jharl sits leaning against a pillar in the chapel of the ruins of the Minaret. He is haggard, wounded, his leather armor torn .  Away to his left lie the lifeless bodies of several of his companions (Katrien, Rufus, Alantha , Fenrir)**

Ceela.. This tower is now in ruins, ruled apparently by hate. The nightmares and horrors we have encountered here are beyond my capacity to describe.    *inkblot*  been in near constant combat since awakening …. All have fought bravely and we’ve made some progress in understanding what is going on but …. the situation is now desperate. Our band hangs on by only the slimmest of margins.

I have managed to gather their bodies in here where there is some temporary respite….
But how to reunite their spirits ?
I know Connor yet lies out there but a powerful being hovers over him.

Bil, Acacea , Brac and Rev are all that remain accounted for ..and Rev has suffered some sort of  shock or curse. She says she cannot restore anyone and one look at her  ..well, you know it is true.

Ceela, just know that my love for you is true. May your Mistress Xeen and the Scarlet Hawk watch over you until I might return.

[Olme]

**Excerpts from Jharl’s notes  at the Minaret**

….I think perhaps all creatures strive for routine and we have settled into one of sorts, even here. We stand our watches and deal with the demons that assail us all too often. I try to take as many of these watches as I can so that the others may concentrate on the arcane arts that may lead to our release from this nightmare…

….all seem to have become quiet, withdrawn, as if seeking counsel within themselves…

..Gestures and movements have now become enough to communicate amongst us.  I suppose that is to be expected after all this time here.... Acacea and now also Plen seem to spend more and more time with the unicorn figurine. It used to seem so strange and yet now seems somehow normal…

…Weeks have seemingly come and gone. Sa ceela, I long for your touch, your smile, your voice…

…Brac and Connor, it seems as if they are making progress with this crystal, yet they never discuss it and I will not defile their concentration by asking for explanations that are beyond my ken.…  .. must maintain hope, yet Brac has not spoken in days…. Perhaps the whole endeavor may yet be in jeopardy, a waste…

..Rev occasionally brings up the need to find and talk to Narsil. I think deep down we all fear that she may yet  prove to be correct . The prospect of that encounter sends shivers…

…Katrien, my old  and trusted friend.  Connor and I once, in a conversation, said that we would both follow her into hell if need be. It seems we may have done just that. Her flute and music console me, a link to other days and life outside here. I know she is consumed with her own separation from Lisse’; I cannot begin to fathom the pain that must bring. She is happiest it seems when she is able to be close to Rufus and for that I am grateful….and yet ..I wonder if this love or attraction they have can or will endure. I can’t help but think how it was caused by some magic related to what brought us here….

[ A section of lyrics to a song  with writing in both common and elven  appear here. It is heavily crossed out, marked up and written over ; almost illegible]

..Time: our most precious commodity.  It seems as if to have stopped here.. the days drag on ..

[Olme]

**an apparently quickly penned entry in shaky handwriting ***

Sa ceela. Fresh air, flowers, birds..

 We have somehow escaped this tower of .. false promises and hate. …Another impossible battle with those demons…. Several fell early on, but Plen was able to call on the grace of Katia to restore them. Yet we persevered.
We were headed for the final door and I moved up to support the attack ....That is the last I remember…

They said half of us fell, including Plen. Somehow, though we are out and our group looks to be very battered but intact.

**more entries written a while later in a steadier hand **

I have learned more of how our escape was affected. Katrien and her music proved to be the key. She and Connor somehow lured the demons away long enough with song…
I wish I had been standing to have witnessed that feat, to have lent my voice…

Whispers of bad news…. I am told that Acacea was amongst those that lay dead for a time, cut down when we made our exit. She is even now recovering fast, but Diamond, the unicorn artifact is missing …apparently still in there. All we have endured might be for naught without it.

I think we may be going back.

[Olme]

….and so we ventured back to the Greypeaks. I was determined that this time I would not return to the flatlands until I had found my clan.  I have located the long forgotten trail…

..We have been on this road for days now. It is discouraging.  No sign of life, not even the orcs that used to be here, just the occasional band of ogres.  Why do they thrive? Yet, I am sure we are on the right path. Tomorrow we should know the fate of my people…

..topped the last ridge and then we were surrounded  by warriors. Scarlet Hawks! They look so young, but grim, determined, shocked to see other than an ogre, astounded when I spoke our traditional tribal greeting…

Despite my fears, Thrandor is very much alive and well! He must be 180 yet he still leads with vigor, wisdom. He viewed Sophia and Samir with suspicion at first, but soon warmed to them. We ate, drank and talked long into the night. I spent hours recounting my adventures and what lies beyond these hills, yet at that, I could only touch on some of the more important…

…that the news was not good. The ogre threat is even worse than I had estimated. Our warriors are hard pressed and the clan has been diminished. The camp itself is secure here and easily defended, but now even boys must stand watch. Of the halfelven, only Thrandor and I remain. The truth is that the tribe is dying…

… Thrandor has not been idle though and has a plan. The clan of the Silver Wolf, long friendly, faces the same threat. Although they have some different traditions, they, like the Scarlet Hawks are a proud and honorable people. Thrandor wishes me to venture to their camp; parley with their chieftain, and conclude an alliance. He urges me to go at once.  I see the wisdom in this. Where each tribe faces an uncertain future, together they might prevail…

….have explained the situation to sa ceela.  We will set out on the morrow to the Silver Wolf camp…

[Olme]

Kelins Inn Krandor

I have signed onto a crew hired to investigate a series of caverns in a place called Hapur. Apparently there is some historical or scientific significance to this site, but the tunnels may yet prove treacherous, so a call has gone out for assistance.

-----------
**Jharl sits with his back against a damp wall in a dimly lit cavern.  Most of the party is standing before a strange contraption with a series of colored buttons, puzzled looks on their faces. The woman in red with the torch and the big half orc stand apart from the others, scrawling on the  cavern wall with  charcoal **

It is amazing that we have made it this deep into this cavern.

Never have I traveled with a party that was so undisciplined or ill prepared. None, save I, even brought along a pick or rope.  They argue even now over what button to press next, but the truth is it matters not as they are just guessing anyways.

Still I have gained some respect for that wise cracking rogue. She showed great skill in disarming some very clever traps. I wonder about the sanity of that other with the torch who seems preoccupied with fire. She, with that orc she seems so friendly with, have taken to defacing the walls. This can’t be good.

We have passed through several chambers each warded in a unique way, each with its own sentinel of immense crystal. When we have failed to solve the wards, these crystals have become hostile and are formidable. I think that when we

**The crackle and hiss of a bolt of lightning shooting across the cavern to strike down one of the adventurers quickly ends this update**

-----
**Written sometime later in Hapur **

The last chamber proved the most spectacular. An immense statue of a dragon well lit by orbs of light and a simple chest.  Inside: I glimpsed three absolutely beautiful pieces of crystal in the perfect likeness of roses, but before a word could be uttered, she had quickly snatched them up and turned to head out…right into an ambush. If our party had had any sense of cohesion or discipline we might have survived this, but…

I made it back to the surface to find that the camp in utter chaos.
The artifacts and maybe even a person or two are missing.

What a spectacular failure.

[Olme]

**Somewhere in Rilara?  date uncertain**

One more time back into the tower.  We found ..a box. A strangely warded box, but one that no doubt imprisoned the artifact known as Diamond. We scooped up the box and headed out.
When we left the physical confines of the tower we were confronted by a strange spirit. It seemingly took great delight in teasing, taunting, tormenting us with riddles, even as it answered some of our questions. The spirit soon revealed itself as the sentience of the minaret itself.

It soon became apparent to our own adepts of the arcane that the box would have to be opened.  The price of admission: each to be subjected to a personal ‘trial by dream’ and a ‘trial by nightmare’, success or failure to be determined by the collective outcome.

It was very troubling to watch each in turn succumb to this ‘dream’ process. Each appeared lifeless, vacant, near death, but yet, beyond any comfort or aid.

I took my turn and endured, dealt with the visions presented.  I will not comment of the particulars of my trials. One can only be what one is and must chart his own course. I  did, however learn something of myself in this process, so it was not without waste. Yet the ‘tower’ judged me deficient in my response and so pronounced me a failure in its  strange scorebook.

When all was done, we had apparently prevailed, though only slightly.

The spirit then went on to explain more of his nature; an apparent construct of sentience that absorbed all that entered the physical confines of the minaret . For many long years all it knew were  good, happy, learned. Then one, an elf arrived at the tower, one that brought him new attributes: hate, deceit, greed.  These have now become part of its nature.

And now we were to open the box and retrieve Diamond. The spirit told us that any or all might open it, but, that whoever did , the nature of each would somehow be imbued in the result, much as the sentience of the tower is a the sum of its experiences. We started a debate as to how best to proceed. Acacea had strong feelings that several in our party must be excluded from participating as they had qualities that offended her sensibilities.  Rev polled us all as to our interest and, one by one, all agreed that we should all share in this for better or for ill.

 Acacea  promptly opened the box herself.

We were then brought to a place (inside the box ?) , where the unicorn was encircled  by 8 pillars and chains. Inscribed on each pillar was text that related to each of our personal nightmares. A drop of our blood was the price to release the chain. We each paid the price.

And then back outside to the minaret. Rev carefully scribed the missing words on the tablets at the base of each statue. With Acacea as the focus, we each took up the song.

It was if the fabric of something, something that should not be torn, was torn asunder.  I think we have brought ourselves and the tower back into time, our time.

I have a sense that something is terribly wrong.

[Olme]

** On the Isle of Posda **

I read a notice that a new team was needed to help again with the dig, so I again set off to Krelin’s  in Krandor.  Jack recognized a few of us from the first disaster and was, I think, reluctant to take us on again but in the end relented. The mission was a bit vague this time. We were to rendezvous with a ship Jack had chartered and then investigate the Ilse of Posda. Apparently another of his precious orbs had turned up and may have originated there.

Even the land trip to rendezvous with the charter was not without incident. Twice we were ambushed on the road.  Now brigands are not unheard of, but common criminals looking for a quick hit would never choose a well armed party as a target. No, there is something bigger going on here.

A stroke of fortune! Our charter turned out to ‘The Lady’ captained by none other than Silas. No matter what transpires now, I know that we will be in good hands whilst at sea.

Silas took in as close as he dared, but the shallow waters and reefs meant a long pull to shore. Our lack of seamanship quickly showed when we promptly lost the boats after making landfall. An attempt to recover them just put us on the losing side of an encounter with sharks.

 We started a search of the isle. At the highest point, we found a camp with some curious notes and a diary. Some one had been digging here, but to what end?  The diary told of something found but lost, apparently when they moved it off of the isle.  One of the notes appears to be in a form of elven but none of us could translate it. A few undead also harassed us.  Why are there are undead here?

My carpentry skills have come in handy.  We were able to fabricate a serviceable raft out of the plentiful lumber about but we will not test it till the morrow. For now the shadows grow long even as Orn rises. Some stories by the campfire and a good night’s rest will do us all a world of good.