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AGES OF "KNOW-AGED" THINGS:
LETTERS, JOURNALS, DREAMS, ETC.: Monday, April 3, 1828 – Morningstar’s dream, the night following the gnoll and kobold attack between Tal Hae and Calnis: You are standing in the back of an immense cavern. The shadows hide you well. Torches mounted on the walls cast harsh light onto a stone floor strewn with filth, debris, and human remains. Several tunnels curl away from this cavern, and from them comes the faint and rhythmic sound of drumbeats. At one end of the great hall is a hideous throne, fashioned of iron and adorned with human skulls. And seated on the throne is a hideous being, humanoid, with the facial features of a jackal. Although stooped over on its throne, the creature is very large; it would likely be nearing eight feet in height were it to stand. Fangs jut out from its oversized jaw, and black drool drips from its teeth onto the floor. It sits, waiting. You are frozen in place, watching. Minutes pass. A shadow coalesces in the center of the cavern; the torches flicker though there is no breeze. The shadow forms itself into a huge and ugly being, similar to the one on the throne, but more immense, more imposing. It radiates a dark power. It glides silently across the hall, until it floats before the throne. Your perspective changes; now you are standing elsewhere in the cavern, still hidden, watching the pair of beings from the side, each in profile, facing each other. The larger, more powerful being begins to speak in a strange, guttural tongue to the one on the throne. He goes on at length, gesturing often, growing more animated, more violent. The creature on the throne leans forward, listening eagerly. Its eyes gleam red in the torchlight. At last the being radiating the power finishes its tirade, and the creature on the throne nods its head. The torches grow dim, and the cavern becomes dark; the creature and its throne fade away, leaving the mighty being hovering alone in the hall. Alone except for you, still watching, still hidden in the protection of Ell’s darkness. For the first time, you notice what appear to be thin wires, attached to the being’s arms, legs and head, stretching upward, vanishing into the dark ceiling of the hall. Then you see the eyes of the being begin to glow. The light hurts your eyes. It turns its head toward you. It senses that someone is watching. The light from its eyes is blinding. You awaken.
Friday, April 7, 1828 – letter to the Company from Abernathy, waiting at the Greenhouse: Friends, I have heard from Tharnius that you have delivered Gohgan’s ring safely into his hands. For this I thank you. I have also heard from Eddings of the unexpected difficulties you encountered in obtaining the ring from the rug merchant. Were my ability to foretell more finely honed, I might have anticipated your troubles, but that, alas, is a luxury afforded to none save the Gods. If I did not make myself plain during our first meeting, I will say again now that danger is likely to be your frequent companion in the times ahead. For this I am sorry. The good sage in Calnis tells me that it will be some time before the ring will yield up its secrets to him. When it does, there will be another task for you – the ring is a signpost, and we must wait to decipher it, and see where it points. In the meanwhile, there are two other matters that you might attend to for me. One is investigatory – knowledge has come to me of a disturbance in the village of Verdshane, a small place of simple folk, but one of moderate relevance to my work. I would like you to travel there and learn what transpires. I will advise that in Verdshane, boxes, whatever their size and shape, should remain closed. The other is a simple matter of obtaining for me a certain bone-handled scythe. I know from scrying done some years past that it is owned by an old farming woman, Grewla Shillside, in the village of Nutridge, and there is no reason to think that it is no longer in her possession. A note of warning – the scythe has a curse upon it, which manifests when the tool is used to strike a living being. Grewla is an old and wise woman, and she knows something is amiss with it. The scythe sits in her barn unused; I suspect she would gladly rid herself of it were you to offer to buy it from her. (A handful of gold would set her table for a month, and in truth is more than the thing is worth.) The choice of which path to take is not a simple one. Whatever is happening in Verdshane could very likely become something greater, and more difficult, if not attended to at once. Under most circumstances I would simply send you there, for the scythe is a minor matter to me and could wait some time still. However, there is more to take into account. Since our initial meeting, I have spared some minutes to the matter of Mrs. Horn’s husband. Sadly, my scrying has been muddled an incomplete, for I did not know Willam personally, and I have little energies to spare for the task. However, my modest talents and the limited prescience with which I am endowed have pointed me to the town of Nutridge. Willam’s involvement with that place is a delicate and ephemeral thing, but clear; one tenuous strand of his life goes there, and at least for a short time goes no further. It is for this reason that my thoughts now turn to the scythe. Whatever is happening in Verdshane, I will require you, eventually, to learn of it and deal with it. By not moving immediately, I fear the danger to your company will be significantly increased. However, should you strike out at once for the Greatwood, the fragile web that connects Willam’s life with Nutridge will be torn before you can return there. And afterward, there may not be further opportunity, not for a long time, for you, Mrs. Horn, to follow the path of your heart. I therefore give you the choice, to make freely as a company, of what road shall be yours. When you return with either information from Verdshane or the scythe from Nutridge, please inform my apprentice Thewana at your earliest convenience. With deference to Ell, and to Yondalla, and to Delioch, I would that Corilayna also smile upon you in the times ahead. And if the Gods are otherwise engaged, know that I myself, while no substitute for the Powers of Creation, will spare you what thoughts I can. -Abernathy
Sunday, April 23, 1828 – letter to Dranko from Praska, waiting at the Greenhouse: Dear Dranko, I hope this letter gets to you...I’m going to smuggle it out to a street kid, rather than give it to the church runner. Maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I think Califax and Mokad have got Tuqi showing them all the mail that goes out. Strange things are happening in here, Dranko...the Follower got sent off to run the church at the capital, and I’m not sure who’s running things here. Califax and some of the other Scarbearers have been doing a lot of political shuffling recently, which is strange for a bunch of fanatics. I’ll be glad to get out of here! On the 11th of June, the Festival of Arrival, I will finally get released. I’m going to spend some time traveling, and no matter what Califax says, I’m going to start my own branch of the Church someplace where they don’t have one now! But the real reason I’m writing is about Harmon. He’s sick, Dranko, real sick. And Califax has him in his care. I know it isn’t right to say things like this, but I’m not so sure that he’s getting better, and I’m not sure Califax doesn’t want it that way. I wish you could come and visit him. I know he’d like to see you again. -Praska
Sunday, June 5, 1828 -- letter (never delivered) to Abernathy from Tharnius, found in the wreckage of Tharnius’ home in Calnis: Abernathy - There is much news, and little of it good. As I feared, it seems that the Sharshun were not all destroyed at Yen Hae, and in the years since have grown strong again. They have apparently come by at least one of Moirel’s Eyes, which is disturbing to say the least. It shows that they were serious all along about Semek...I would send someone to the Mirrors this year, just to keep an eye on things. Worse, another damned Seki got through -- as if there weren’t distractions enough. Alykeen’s apprentice contacted me -- they think it’s in the Greatwood Hills, and once it’s recovered, that it will go for Walnord first to feed. If you think your Company is ready, send them to deal with it...isn’t that exactly what they’re for? And there is so much more. The Blackbloods and Flinders are driving themselves against Calnis like the tide, and for no reason other than to distract us from our task. Another attack is expected tonight. The Masking fades more with each passing day, despite all the Mors Tarathi can do. Much that slept will be waking in the weeks and months to come. Is the Kingdom ready to face such a trial? The net draws close about us, old friend, and it is held by many hands. If there is any hope, it is that our foes are not aware of one another, and that they work at odds even as they thwart us. In the meantime, I’ll keep researching the whereabouts of Moirel’s other six eyes. I don’t know how useful they’ll be for your task, but keeping them from the Sharshun should be reason enough. Be well, magus.
Wednesday, June 15, 1828 -- letter to Morningstar from the Chroniclers, delivered to the Greenhouse: To Morningstar, Shield of Ell: Greetings, sister, from Previa, Chronicler. I and sister Anna have been assigned to research for you on a list of names given us by the High Priestess Milanwy. I am to tell you that our efforts have been made under veil of secrecy, and that the purpose of our research has not been told to us. Although we are still continuing with our investigation, here is a summary of our findings thus far: There is little to be found on the subject of the Mors Tarathi, and nothing at all about persons or things called Sharshun. Disturbingly, there has been obvious evidence of tampering, even in some of Ell’s more secure libraries. Two books in the Library at Minok, which might have had information on the Mors Tarathi, are missing, and in a third there were pages torn from an old Chronicler’s diary. What is known is that the Tarathi were a race of elves now extinct, that had two branches: The Mors Tarathi and the Elhen Tarathi. Nothing is known of where they lived or how they perished. The Eyes of Moirel are another story. Legend has it that Moirel was an elven mage who appeared in the Mirrors of Semek, well over 2000 years ago (exact date not known), carrying a number of highly magical diamonds, each cut round, with many facets. She was robbed of them by bandits, and she spent the rest of her days searching for them. The legends say that she was driven mad with the desire to find them, and there are conflicting stories of her fate. Some say she was killed by halflings who lived in the grassy hills near the Mirrors, for in her madness she was wrecking the little people’s homes with powerful magics. Others maintain that after years of searching she walked back into the mirrors and vanished. By most accounts, however, she died a wandering lunatic, asking all she met to give her back her Eyes so that she could go home. There is also one reference to a Sek-ki, in an old passage of a mostly-destroyed Ellish scroll approximately 900 years old – a rough translation now reads: "…burn(ing) flesh. And too the lesser horrors: the Soul Eater, one as many, and the Sek-ki, many as one – these fadeth (from thought) as all things behind the Curtain. Who now remembreth such (things?) Soon the time shall be as if it had not been, and the future (cleansed with) ignorance, for the Curtain draweth close, and the Goddess doth not rend it nor part it nor…" The parenthetical sections are guesses at unreadable portions of the text. -Previa
Sunday, June 26, 1828 – letter to Morningstar from the Chroniclers, delivered to the Greenhouse: To Morningstar, Shield of Ell: Greetings, sister, from Previa, Chronicler. I have discovered one more reference, though vague, that may have bearing on your request for knowledge. This excerpt is from Chronicler Eloa of Dimres, written 48 years ago: "And this man, who named himself Isaac, he came at night to the doors of our house, bleeding from a dozen wounds, and with the madness in his eyes. At first he begged for sanctuary, and so we admitted him, and tended to his hurts. From his ravings we gathered that he had staggered almost fifty miles from the low hills about the town of Medir. He had been the leader of a band of outlaws, and there had been some falling out among them, and he had slain many of his own comrades, so that (in his own words) ‘they would not steal his sight.’ "When we asked him what this meant, he became restless. When one of the Hands attempted to calm him further, he flung himself away, and from the folds of his tattered cloak he withdrew a strange gem. It was a clear, round-cut diamond, the size of a child’s fist, and in its center was a blackness, perhaps a flaw, perhaps a bit of jet – we could not say. The outlaw held it up, and began to shout: ‘Do you not know? I have the eye that sees truth! And I see the light that will come into this place, scrying out all your shadowed corners, and piercing your secrets. I can see it! I can see!’ At that moment Verna, the High Priestess, came into the chamber, and ordered that the man be turned out of the Temple. He was, though his ravings continued, and among them he vowed to return to Medir and slay the rest of his treacherous fellows. At Verna’s command the man was followed some miles out of Dimres, and he was headed east, and our sisters returned. The High Priestess would say no more about the man, and he did not come back." -Previa
Sunday, July 3, 1828 -- letter to Dranko for Praska, delivered to the Greenhouse: Dranko - I’m sure by now you heard about me from Harmon or one of the others, I think that I didn’t have a choice in running away. There’s something really bad going on, Dranko, but I don’t know what. I can’t remember if I told you why I got locked up the first time, well it was because I was snooping around in Califax’s quarters since he had been having wierd meetings and then Wister and Palinaya and Tomnic and some others got moved away. In his room I found a list of some names, which had all those clerics who had been transferred, plus some other names, but then I got caught. This second time, it was after two more of the clerics from that list, Raleigh and Trella, got moved out too, and some other priests came in from other cities. I figured something was up so I did more snooping, this time around Mokad’s room, and boy did I find something strange. Well, you know I was never as good at being sneaky as you and I got caught again, but I still remember some of what I saw in some of Mokad’s notes. Some of it was gold pieces counts, and they were high, tens of thousands I think. I didn’t get a good look since I was caught pretty quick but I think there’s some kind of expensive project going on somewhere in the desert near Sands Edge, that they think will go for months. I guess there using church money for it, but then why are they making it all a secret and having meetings in Mokad’s room? Its wierd. I guess this means I might not ever be a priestess, with me running away from the Church. You and Harmon are probably the only ones who really understand how much that hurts. But if I learned something from all the teachings and sermons, its that Delioch will see me through as long as I’m doing the right thing, and I am. I don’t want to say where I am yet since this letter might get stolen. I’ll write again if I find out more things. your freind,
Friday, July 15, 1828 – dream message from Abernathy, delivered via Morningstar: (Your dreams abruptly go black, and then they are filled with the sight of Abernathy, looking tired but with his eyes a bright, almost fiery blue. He is sitting in a large yet plain wooden chair. Superimposed over his face is the face of Morningstar. Both mouths open to speak, and both voices can be heard in unison. As he/she/they speak, the voice drops out every second or two, so that some of what is said is lost: ) "...friends, you should not...about me...taking all of my...ength, but...will hold. You must see Tharnius and....Tell...he should warn Fylnius in...next...an attack on me means a...him. ...must not...Thar...will know what to...you guidance. You....tant role, and we will need....ever....Gods look...you, and wisdom guide..." (note: Morningstar’s version of this, as one might expect, is slightly
different)
Monday, September 21, 1828 – journal found with skeleton buried beneath a "floam" cave-in, beneath Gohgan’s: ld n ver co to pas . I not und rs and al that is in the reports, but it is clear that this place will fall within days. I have been given the choice of going with the Emperor, and I think I will go, rather than stay to be slaughtered by the allies of the pathetic sharp-ears. How they must be savoring their ill-gotten victory. Still, the Emperor has plans for the future. He is sending one
of the Circle here to oversee final preparations for this place, and of
course my mages will stay to the end. I have been assured that their
sacrifice will not be in vain, though I am skeptical, and would have preferred
they stay with me. Fortunately, the Circle will be with me on the
journey…there is apparently one last task for them to perform at Kinnet
Vulthani, of such a nature that even I am not privy to its detail. Something
worse than what is being left here, I guess. Best for me not to ponder!
I will be glad of the Circle’s company, for with the Lowroads choked with
gases, it will be a dangerous journey to the Capital. The forest
and all the lands between swarm with enemy camps. But I will make
it. And someday my children’s children will return and restore the
glory of Hawlic’s house. I ho
Tuesday, September 22, 1828 -- diary found on skeletons, in an old wine cellar beneath Gohgan’s: Day One:
Day Two:
Day Three:
Thursday, September 24, 1828 – Dranko’s dream, just before regaining his memory, in the Church of Delioch in Tal Hae: There is a room, a classroom, and a man getting on in years stands before you. His face is kind but stern, and he wears robes you recognize to be of the church to which your grandparents belong. He is a priest of Delioch. Beside you sits an older girl, thin, a teenager. She looks familiar, as does the other priest, but neither has ever stepped foot on your Grandfather’s farm. The Priest speaks: "Beware. Great changes have come, and a dangerous foe has been born. Scars on the flesh can be a sign that one has moved closer to the Divine. But this one…he has a scar on his soul. The wound festered, you see, and before it was cured, all the blessedness of the Healer bled from it, and something darker filled the void. He stands within the Circle now. Do not forget him, my children. He will certainly not forget you." The priest looks at you. "Do you hear me, Dranko?" The name is not yours, but it is familiar. "Dranko, do you hear me?" Your eyes flutter open. "Dranko, can you hear me?" The priest,
Harmon, is shaking you gently. He speaks your name.
Friday, September 25, 1828 -- Promises made to Brechen, for the life of Mrs. Horn: Tor:
Morningstar:
Your feet shall not stray from the road before you, though the shadows
fade and darkness wanes. Some will follow, and others will vilify,
and betimes you will be stretched to the breaking point. But even
if the future tears you apart, you must stay the course. You will turn
your eyes to the light, when it comes, and not turn away, though it burns
you. For you are a child of darkness, and you are a child of light.
Swear this, for the journey of Isabel Horn’s soul, from the Endless Shore
to the land of mortals. What say you?
Dranko:
Kay:
Your life, almost from the moment of your birth, has been spent defying the truth. You have a gift, and a heritage, and you have turned your face from both of these. Should you choose to stay hidden and safe, you will fade, and a great opportunity will be lost. You are here charged not to fade, to embrace that which sets you apart, to accept your gifts and with them free a long-forgotten race. This you must do, even if in doing so the name "Windstorm" shall come to be on a thousand tongues, of allies and enemies alike. This you must promise, before Pikon and before me, as your part in the return of Isabel Horn to life. What say you? Ernie:
Flicker:
Wednesday, December 3, 1828 – song taught to Kay by her mother, learned from her Elvish father: In the days of our youth, we ran with the butterflies,
In the days of our strength, we fought with the eagles,
In the days of our slavery, we slew with the Warlord,
In the days of our sorrow, we die with our memories,
Saturday, December 14, 1828 – page of prophecy found in Hodge’s office, in the Seablade Temple of Brechen: …shall depart whereto his home, and also we shall be driven out. It is not writ brightly in the stars that a day will see our return, but signs there are that it may be so, and the stars’ whims can be swayed by the faithful. In the books of the Burning God is so writ, of the land across the uncrossable
sea: that a venic giant will again walk the earth, and three sons of Werthis
will lay it low; then, on the fingertip of the Empire, our gate be will
opened in the land of gates, forced ajar with souls, and the Children of
the Burning God will return to conquer.
Friday, January 24, 1829 – Ernie’s vision during training: You dream. You are standing on a wide and rocky plain. Above you, clouds race across the sky, unnaturally fast, driven by a wind you cannot feel. The sun sets swiftly, and in the dim twilight you become aware of several dark giants surrounding you in a rough circle. They are watching you, still and silent, but menacing. After some time the giants slowly fade away, but a dark circle of shadow remains in their place. The circle beings to shrink, contracting as if to close upon you. But a warm breeze carrying the familiar scent of freshly-baked bread blows across the plain, and the black circle ripples, and turns to gold. A comforting voice rides the wind. "Ernest, when you come to stand in this place, be sure to be girded with Cranchus’ gift. Trust the one who has preserved it – his message is true." The golden ring continues to shrink, until it hovers close about your waist like a belt. "Ernest, you are a great credit to the church of Yondalla, and set an example all of her children should follow. Continue to stay true to your heart, and take these gifts. Few are as deserving…and few will be more needful of them." You wake from the dream feeling refreshed, and the smell of bread is
strong in your nostrils. You now have the ability to cast the Shield
spell once per day, on yourself or on others by touch. You also have
been given minor-sphere access to Traveler and Time spells.
Monday, February 18, 1829 – Morningstar’s dream, after the party’s second encounter with Meledien: In your dreams, the angel comes. The two of you are in Ava Dormo, in the practice field of the Kynder Hold Temple. She draws her mace and salutes you, but does not attack. Instead, she bows her head, and the two of you are suddenly in a cold stone hallway, near a door that it slightly ajar. She gestures at the door. "Watch. Listen. Learn." Looking through the doorway, you see two people talking in a dark room,
lit only by a lantern. One is Meledien, and the other is the
man who injured you in the palace beneath Gohgan’s.
"I hate this place," Meledien says. "How can you stand it here?" "For some of us," the man replies, "the Dreamscape is like home. It is certainly more familiar than the wretched country that reflects it." His voice carries the harsh sneer you remember from your previous encounter. "No matter," Meledien continues. "I have some significant news. That Ellish woman and her cohorts paid me a visit today at Kinnet Vulthani. We had a standoff, and one of them claimed that they were working for Abernathy, the archmagus of Pyke Vale. Troubling, don’t you think?" "Do you believe them?" "I don’t know. But it would be foolish to just assume they’re lying. I decided to spare their lives, in exchange for a promise that they wouldn’t return. They likely won’t feel bound by it, but it was the safer course of action. I’ll have to hire more guards, in case they return with a larger force. And they’ll need it…their attempt to break into my camp was pathetic. I could kill them all myself, with or without guards, if I had to. But I don’t want to anger an archmage if I can help it." "We shouldn’t worry about the archmage. Besides, if he takes a personal hand in any of this, it’s really only saving us the trouble." "One other thing. One of them had an air spirit with her, probably as a familiar. I didn’t think they had them here. It was a weak specimen, but still curious, don’t you think?" "An air spirit? Who cares? You should concentrate on your work. Are things on schedule?" Meledien frowns: "There’s a problem. The spells around the keyrooms have eroded more than I was led to expect. The boxes are going to have to be opened in sequence, and controlling them is going to get more and more difficult. I figure we’ll just kill the first few specimens, to avoid raising suspicion. Once I get to the tougher ones, I’ll just do the best I can to send them on their way. But it will take some time before I get to the…major distractions. I hope the sage isn’t on a tight schedule." "No rush," the man says. "Time is on our side. The sage is eager, of course, but he knows the folly of rushing things." "And you?" "Nothing to worry about," the man says with a grin. "As I said, the Dreamscape here is practically empty. The Dark Sisters might be a nuisance, but they have such an obvious weakness. That girl I encountered in the palace is the only one who could even look at me. And none of them are trained properly." "What of Restimar?" "No word, but that’s not surprising. I don’t envy him his job, having to play Lord with the Kesh. A power trip, but the smell must be awful. But we’ll know that he’s doing his job…word will spread." "Octesian, I’m tired. It’s difficult for me to stay here. And I have plenty of work to do here at Kinnet Vulthani. I have nothing more to report. If anything else comes up, I’ll let you know." Hall, door, and room fade away, and you are back at Kynder Hold. The face of the angel seems strained, as if she has just been exerting herself heavily. "Take heed." she says. "You are the child of light." The angel suddenly glows with a fierce, blinding (and painful) light, and then vanishes. You are alone for a moment. And then another voice intrudes, accompanied by a familiar embodiment. "Morningstar? It’s Abernathy. I don’t have much time or
energy to spare, but I have a brief but important message. I have
discovered where the other end of Gluefoot’s box is…it’s somewhere in or
near the city of Brinth, down the coast from Minok. It seemed
worth telling you while you were in the area. Be careful if you go
there…the box was constructed by someone extremely powerful. It worries
me. Anything you can find out would be useful…must go now…"
Thursday, February 28, 1829 – Manzanill’s diary, found in Brinth: 6/28/27 Tharnius 16 Street of Wisdom, Calnis.
Mors Tar
9/30/27 Need to find a leader for the Sand’s Edge dig. Several
leads.
(margin note: probably 20-30,000 g.p.) 2/16/28 dig funds coming through church of Delioch in Tal Hae…awaiting
4/1/28 ugly man (half-orc?) vanishes (!) near Abernathy’s tower. 4/2/28 small man with mustache visits Tharnius in Calnis - seen lurking
about
4/5/28 half-orc and odd company in Calnis visit Tharnius - short visit.
5/1/28 Khorl (local) in charge of Sand’s Edge. also Varliss, Mandrake (mage) 5/29/28 Khorl - dig on schedule. Suspects Mandrake, not sure. 6/2/28 Tharnius killed! Casualty of gnoll raid, probable accident. (margin note: salvage?) 7/1/28 Remainder of funds coming from church in T.H. contact - Mokad. 7/17/28 Khorl reports dig ahead of schedule…statue should be out by
7/28/28 Half-orc (Danko?) shows up at dig site! Who is he??
Likely
(margin note: Must find "Aggik Truk til v’ Iv Kesh Toz" (Prophecies of the Orcish Crusades) most copies probably still hidden.. try Sand’s Edge (Werthis), Vault in H.C.) 8/9/28 Gargoyle out. Sent back to Sand’s Edge. Should be
in Hydra
9/1/28 Gargoyle killed, but job a success. Khorl suspects Mandrake
2/4/29 No word from F since October…probably welching. should
keep him alive for later when things pick up again.
Thursday, February 28, 1829 - letter to Manzanill from "P": Manzanill, Here is your promised bonus for a job well done. The Gargoyle has done exactly what I hoped, and now my plans are that much closer to fruition. It is now more important that you find me the Prophecies of the Orcish Crusades. Let me know as soon as it is in your possession. Since you handled the Sand’s Edge excavation so well, I’ve decided to put you in charge of a similar operation in the Capital. But we won’t be ready for that for many months. In the meantime, see if you can learn anything about that half-orc you mentioned. Since you report that no attempt to stop the dig was made after his visit, I would guess he really was working with Mokad; if the Church of Delioch wasn’t supposed to be involved in anything but the funding, it’s not surprising that you couldn’t confirm the relation. But anyone seen vanishing near Abernathy’s tower is worth checking up on. P
Sunday, March 8, 1829 - letter to Dranko from Praska: Dear Dranko, I think it’s finally safe to write you. Guess where I am, I’m at the Capital, and they accepted me into the church here! Can you believe that Tomnic remembered me from Tal Hae? They’ve made me a priestess, and I’m doing research to help restore the Church library. A few months ago, the librarian here vanished without a trace, and he took a bunch of books and destroyed a lot of the rest. We think he was one of those people who was in with Mokad…Tomnic told me about that I had a really weird dream a while ago with you in it…Harmon was warning us about Mokad. Like I need warning! I was saying, that I get to do research, which is really fun. They send me to the Vault about three times a week, which is this huge library that’s mostly underground. I bet you could find out anything in the world in there. It’s bigger than the whole Church of Delioch, and the Church here is much bigger than ours in Tal Hae. The best part is, we don’t have to pay as much to use it as most people, and that’s a good thing, since it’s real expensive. You should come and visit me here when you get a chance. This city is amazing, and it’s huge! I think you could fit Tal Hae in it three or four times. The Church of Delioch has a garden which is blooming all the time, even now when it’s winter. And there’s a mage’s building that’s constantly changing shape. And the Vault is amazing. There’s lots more, too. Good luck with the stuff you’re doing! And say hi to Harmon for me. -Praska.
Sunday, March 15, 1829 – pronouncements made by a priest of Brechen on the 6-month anniversary of Mrs. Horn’s raising: Tor: "Your time has not yet come, but it will be upon you soon. Only the true blood of the royal house can step where you step." Morningstar: "Sister of Darkness, remember the difficulty of the transition, when it becomes time for others to follow." Flicker: "Your courage is a sapling – strong, but constantly needing nourishment. Feed it well." Kay: "Tend well your charge. Let her serve you – by doing so, you serve your kingdom." Ernie: "Stay the course, and know the Circle when it comes to embrace you." Dranko: "Persevere. Your progress cannot be made in minutes or miles, but only in the soul of your brother." Abernathy: "Remember that your freedom comes with added responsibility. Hold true to your oath." Kibi: "The soul’s burden is yours to share. Without you,
the circle of light will shatter, and the circle of darkness will consume.
Wednesday, April 2, 1829 – letter for Dranko from Mokad, left at the Church of Delioch in Hae Charagan: Blackhope:
Now that you are in town, we would be delighted if you would join us for a pleasant evening meal. You can find us at the address of 118 on the Avenue of Clouds, not far from the Patchwork Square, any evening around dinnertime. Bring your friends if you wish, but be aware: if you give us any reason to suspect hostility, or that you have alerted any city authorities, we will slay your young friend. In fact, you may consider her life as insurance against any sort of idiocy you may wish to plan. One last point. By now our agents have noted your arrival in this
fair city. Failure to pay your respects within the week will be considered
an act of idiocy. But by all means, take a few days to enjoy the
sights of the Capital of Charagan. We’ll wait.
Saturday, April 6, 1829 – things learned at the Hae Charagan Vault: on Gartine: "Also called ‘skysteel.’ An extremely rare blue metal, extraordinarily light, made via a magical process practiced upon fine steel. In addition to providing fine weaponry and armor, and being of generally enchantable quality, skysteel is thought to retard the aging process. There are tales of ancient kings building sleeping chambers out of skysteel, to increase their own spans of years. The spells required to produce Gartine are generally thought to have vanished over a thousand years ago, and no attempt to recreate the formulae has been successful." on the Tarathi: "These were two races of elves, each as elegant and cultured as any that survive today. The Mors Tarathi were of darker skin, and among them were mages mighty and puissant. The Elhen Tarathi looked more as do modern-day elves, and were well-practiced in the might of arms. Both lived in the Greatwood, with the Elhen building and inhabiting the great and wondrous city of Verdshane; but the Mors eschewed cities, and dwelt in the woods, practicing mysterious arts. Little is left today to tell us of these fair folk. The Elhen Tarathi were slain in a succession of wars older than record, the most recent of which took place about a thousand years ago, and which resulted in the destruction of Verdshane. Near the small village that still bears the name, once can visit the strange ruins which remain, including a burial room named by modern scholars the Elven Bone Chamber. Here lie undisturbed the remains of the slain Elhen Tarathi, bones of thousands stacked with meticulous care, woven about with spells to ward against desecration. The Mors Tarathi vanished from record even longer before, and nothing remains to tell us what became of them. It is startling how little record of these Elven races remains. Because of the strange dearth of historical reference, few scholars have taken up their study, and research is further hindered by a reluctance of the Ghantian Elves to discuss their lost cousins." on God’s Thorn: (from "The Heroic Adventures and Exploits of Grimford the Great," written by his personal bard and awed admirer, Sefic the Sonorous.) "…and Grimford, the blood of the Forest Demons still dripping from his shield, broke out of the woods of Gahan and beheld an amazing sight. He looked down upon a barren valley, where no trees grew among the scrub, and rising from its center was a lone but tremendous peak. ‘At last," he declared, ‘I have discovered God’s Thorn, and the treasures within will be mine.’ He descended into the valley, down to the base of the mountain, and there beheld the massive iron gates of God’s Thorn, bright red, and crackling with legendary fire. First, he spake the Words of Opening taught him by the sage Cabarius, but the mighty gates did not even tremble, and when Grimford reached for the burning iron his hand was scorched. Undaunted, and having cleverly anticipated the need, he quaffed the Magic Brew given him by Tarvez the Wise, which made the heat and fire as cool as spring water to him. Again he tried the gates, but though he could grip them without pain, and heave against their weight with his awesome strength, they would not budge. For three days and three nights the hero Grimford camped at the foot of God’s Thorn, but against all of his incantations and all of his strength, the gates held fast. At last, perceiving a massing of the Forest Demons at the edge of the wood, he forsook the place, and returned to Lanei, but vowing to return, armed with further strength and wisdom." (also) [see accompanying document] on Venic Giants: [see accompanying document] on the Burning God: "It is rumored that many hundreds of years ago, a cult-religion sprung into existence on the island of Lanei, near the tip of the Balani Peninsula. This cult, which worshipped a deity known as "The Burning God," purportedly practiced human sacrifice in which worshippers, usually volunteers, were burned alive." The cult died out before it had a chance to spread, as one might expect of a group that killed its own members." (also) "The Children of the Burning God were a warlike of race of humans who long ago appeared off the southern coast of Lanei. As their name implies, they prayed to a God whose depictions show him to be on fire. (Several statues, paintings, and drawings have survived, and are highly valued by collectors.) At their height, the Burning Ones occupied the entire Balani Peninsula, and by some accounts they are responsible for the uninhabited state of that area today. When and why they vanished is not known, and more detailed information about them is extremely rare." on the Black Circle: "The Black Circle is a long-dead religion,
that was once widely practiced on the islands of Charagan.
The name of the God (or Goddess) of the Black Circle is not known.
The Black God appears to have been a deity of knowledge and the mind, necromancy,
and dark magic. Examination of some excavations indicates that
there was a purging of the religion, almost a systematic expunging of all
groups that worshipped the Circle, that took place over the course of many
years. There has been no known instance of open worship of the Circle
in the last 300-400 years, though continued underground practice cannot
be ruled out."
Wednesday, June 5, 1829 - words of the Eyes of Moirel, spoken through Eddings: (green eye): "Welcome home, Ernest. Kibi. (purple eye): "You have kept me prisoner, but I have also been your guest. Your guest I will remain. But I liked the lizard more." (green): "Listen well to me. The Ventifact Colossus is waking from its sleep. The world is at a crossroads." (purple): "Listen well to me. The Great Sand Turtle will arise from slumber, and destinies will scatter like grains of sand tumbling from its shell." (green): "Heed well my warning. If the Colossus is not slain by the Stormknights, thousands will perish. It will lead its brethren in a crusade of mindless destruction." (purple): "Heed well my warning. If the Colossus is killed by the War God’s children, thousands will perish. Its death will herald the coming of the fire." (green) "You must not allow the Watchers to succeed. They will sacrifice the present, and only to save an empty future." (purple) "You must not allow the Watchers to fail. The Stormknights will throw the future into chaos, and only to save the ephemeral present." (green) "My brother is correct. The death of the Colossus will create a perilous future." (purple) "My brother is correct. The survival of the Colossus will result in destruction beyond measure. But best that none be alive to see the future burn. For the future is carved in diamond, that none may erase or change" (green) "No. The future in written on water, and we are all its authors." (Both Eyes)
Our creator did not fully understand us. Though you do not have the knowledge or the might to bend us to your will, we are not all required. To travel nowhere, you will need us who are willing. To travel nowhere, we will need our brother. He is in the house of Het Branoi, beyond the Gate of Fire, and he cannot
return on his own. The canary has entrapped the cat. Return
him to us, so you might walk in the footprints of Moirel.
Monday, August 27, 1829 – information about Soul Eaters found in the library of Gadrunas "In a time now past were the Carch Din, called also the Shadow Imps and the Devourers of Souls. Great was the mischief that they worked before they fled, at the death of their fell Kings. "Three Kings there were: Azarin, Farazil and Naboz; and through them much harm was done to the world. Unlike the Shadow Imps were they, and seemingly without weakness. Undetectable, leaving no sign, casting no spoor, staining no memory, and clean of enchantment or dweomercraft, they might have blighted the Kingdom for many long years. For where the Carch Din were a nuisance, their Kings were a terror, and an oft-used tool of the Emperor. But it seems that they were killed at last; Boros of the Spire traveled himself to the Shadows to learn their secrets. "For creatures of the Shadow Plane are the Carch Din, and so too their Kings. The hosts of the Kings each were found and slain in places of utter light or utter darkness, and with no shadows close at hand in which to flee to their home plane, they were forced to take a material and mortal aspect. In such a form were Azarin, Farazil and Neboz dissipated and removed from the world." Also… "I fear that we are helpless to defeat this self-styled King Naboz;
he takes what bodies he wishes, and can so hide from all but the most potent
scrying. We have learned somewhat of his movements and methods, but
the news is not good. While inhabiting a body, Naboz cannot be detected
by any readily available means; the mind stays calm and ordinary, and no
enchantment can be detected about the host. As such he strikes with
perfect surprise. He can ride about in a body for weeks or months,
and afterward the victim has only neutral and pleasant memories of the
time, no matter the atrocities commited. Even the extreme measure
of killing the victim only buys us time; in a month or two after, reports
of his return spread again. His only weakness is a strong preference
for contact for the switching of bodies, though at least once he has crossed
several feet of space to affect an escape into a new body. Also,
thankfully, he has evidenced a reluctance to kill anyone whom he is currently
inhabiting. Still, the conclusion thus far is that King Naboz is
unkillable, and capable of nearly infinite malice." -Kmak
Monday, November 17, 1829 -- Dream-message from the Avatar "Morningstar, listen carefully. A change has come over the Ava Dormo. It is no longer safe, and it is no longer an open realm. A world’s shadow has fallen across it. You may, and should, continue to abide there in your places of strength, but do not venture into the vastness beyond. I will be unable to visit you again for some time, but that is no matter.
I am done administering my training. It is your turn now."
Monday, December 8, 1829 – letter from Califax, original form Dranko – I apologize for not coming to see you in person. Perhaps I’m being rude, but Tal Hae is so plain. It is worrisome that you have grown dangerous, and even I have reason to think that in these interesting times, things could get out of hand if I visited with friends, let alone by myself. If I could find words to express my sorrow, I would write them. But it is no matter. The Black Circle has a way with thoughts, and we will have yours, one way or another. You can resist, but I can have them, even if you can block them, for a time. Your letter, and your words in person, are meaningless. I have weighed many factors, and I’m afraid guilt does not lie heavily on me. The Black Circle has taught me, and made me realize some things about my relationship with Delioch. I decided to make the conversion, to take a risk, and I have learned much. Some of Mokad’s friends might mind that I’m stooping to taunt you, but by now, even they would stop pretending that you’d have any real use. You are foolish, and you have my sympathy. As for my Master: if anything, he learns from each mistake you make, my friend, and I am true to him. Your thoughts, I will have. You will be lost. He is so powerful, using leftover minds as he wishes. Thoughts are his funds. From the wastes of Sand’s Edge to the Isle of Karth, he can dig out your dreams, too. You will pay for your interference. With something similar to your pleasant dinner in Hae Charagan, you will be dealt with. It is all covert, a private venture, and no one will ever find you. There is no hope that you will dine in a tavern again, once I have called the powers to my command. I am the rock which will smash you. This is a certainty; that I can read you like a book, from front to back. Be extremely careful. They’re all in a league beyond your ken, and you will sink like a ship, including sails, mast, ballast and hull. And they know how to make you suffer, to look for opportunity. There is no way out for you. Do not waste time with hope. I trust you recall that they could have killed Praska! They will not play around with you. I know you have reason to think me mad, but I’m not. Too bad for you. Trust me. But I swear on our God the Circle, that the Healer will not save you. I have rediscovered the truth, and abandoned my old faith. And I will apologize in person, should we see each other again, that I did not bring you with me when I had the chance. -C Monday, December 8, 1829 – letter from Califax (above), decoded Dranko – I apologize for not being plain…it is dangerous even to think these things, let alone write them. The Black Circle has a way with thoughts, but I can block them, for a time. Your letter, and your words in person, have weighed heavily on me, and made me realize some things about my relationship with Delioch. I decided to take a risk, and have learned some of Mokad’s mind by pretending sympathy. If he learns my true thoughts, I will be lost. He is using leftover funds from the Sand’s Edge dig to pay for something similar in Hae Charagan. It is all covert, a private venture. There is a tavern called the Rock, which is a front. Be extremely careful. They’re all in league, including Ballast. And they know to look out for you. Do not trust Praska! I know you have reason not to trust me, but I swear on our God the Healer,
I have rediscovered my faith. And I will apologize in person, should
we see each other again.
Wednesday, December 17, 1829 – letter from the Sages’ Consortium of Hae Kalkas To the occupants of the Greenhouse, on the Street of Bakers, Tal Hae. We have conducted research commensurate with funds received on the 7th of July. You requested information on the following terms: Davarian Firemount; Santo; Het Brannoi; Annon Dun; Inner Flame; Orcish Crusades. "Firemount, as is well known, is the name of the ruling house of Forquelle. What is less well known is that this name originated with a people who once occupied and ruled the Balani Peninsula, and for a short while the Islands of Forquelle. These people worshipped a deity referred to as Nifi, or the Burning God, who is neither one of the Travelers, nor one of the Gods native to Charagan before the Arrival. The Inner Flame was probably a ruling body or council of these people, though details are extremely sketchy, and this is no better than an enlightened guess. There are rumors that an army recently landed on the shores of the Balani Peninsula is actually a force of these Burning God worshippers, come to retake lands once owned. Their homeland has never been discovered. There are no records of a person named Davarian in specific, though this name is phonetically consistent with recent generations of Forquellian nobles. Most notable, the oldest son of Baron Olorayne is named Darian; perhaps "Davarian" is simply a misspelling or variant on this name. "Santo" was a first name common among Halfling peoples some hundreds of years past, but which has fallen out of general use. As Halflings are not as a rule historians, there is no information on any specific person named Santo of any importance. Curiously, we found in our researches a volume whose spine reads "Lineage and genealogy of the Holbytla," but all of whose pages are blank. (Holbytla is an old elvish word for Halfling.) The Orcish Crusades appears to refer to an Orcish holy war, in which (according to them) the Orcs will take over the Kingdom of Charagan, led by a legendary figure called the Chun Aggrat, which roughly translates to "Red Warchief." We know from a marginal note that more information can be found in an Orcish tome called "Prophecies of the Orcish Crusades," but this book is not currently in the possession of the Consortium. We were unable to find any information on Het Brannoi or Annon Dun. If you desire further resources to be expended on investigation of these
subjects, or research to be conducted on any other subjects, an additional
deposit will be required. A duplicate of this message has been sent,
to assure proper delivery.
Sunday, December 25, 1829 -- Letters to Manzanill, found in his temporary quarters below Hae Charagan, at the excavation of the arch. Manzanill – I hope you have enjoyed your vacation, but the time has come to get back to work. I’ve already told you most of what you’ll need to know, and how important it is that it all be done in secret. Here are the details: Our best guess is that the Arch of Poal Cathan is more or less directly underneath the Street of Vials, a short avenue populated by alchemists, apothecaries and leeches. My advisors and I have decided that the best place to start will be under a Dwarven tavern, called The Rock, which is a few streets over. Some of our Dwarves from Karth will be sent over to do the heavy. I leave it in your capable hands to secure the tavern, and decide who can be trusted, bribed, etc. You’ll need to tunnel about 80-100 yards south-southwest (we think.) At that point, start punching holes until you break into the caverns of the old city. From there, you’ll just have to go on the instincts of the Dwarves, until you find the Arch. You should only need to dig out the area under the keystone (or where the keystone would be, if it were stones and not Gartine) to start summoning the Chriks. One person’s energy should be sufficient to force open the gate and Recall one of our green friends. Kidnap whom you must, but be discreet. If you can excavate the full Arch, it will speed up the process considerably, but start as soon as you are able. Timing is critical, and even a force of 50 Chriks is something not easily dealt with. Assemble as many of them as you can; when the Fire-worshippers are ready to push up the peninsula in earnest, all other forces should be set and in place. Speaking of our fiery friends, it is my plan to send you on a long but crucial journey after you’re done in the Capital. I need you to go to Kivia, to find and retrieve for me a thing which is of the utmost import, a thing without which we cannot succeed. Once in Kivia, make your way to a city called Djaw, and seek out a shrine to the goddess Dralla. Someone there will have information about a relic known as the Crosser’s Maze. Find it. Bring it back to me, whatever the cost. I’m sorry I don’t have more information for you. Lord Stablein tells me that this Dralla is a Goddess of Abominations, and that you should use caution. I should have more for you before you set out, which is unlikely to be for several months yet. In the meantime, you should start making preparations. Lord Stablein will expedite your passage through the Arch when you arrive at the point. We can see victory, Manzanill. A year, or two, or three, but no more. Always think of the rewards that will be yours, when Crunard is ousted at last. -P
Manzanill, Our master has bid me tell you, that we do not currently have the time or resources to adequately investigate this half-orc person and his cohorts – many irons in the fire, and all that. We know that they are an adventuring party that resides in Tal Hae, and that there is possibly some connection between them and the Archmage Abernathy. We know from rumor that they were more recently involved in the slaying of the Ventifact Colossus in Sand’s Edge. And we know that you will take the necessary precautions in handling them, should they bother you again. -Emory Tuesday, February 23, 1830 -- Messages to the Three Clerics Dranko Blackhope:
The scene shifts, and the carriage pulls up outside an imposing wooden building, adorned with the holy symbol of your family’s religion. There is a summer storm raging above, and the ceiling of clouds is sickly and gray. A tall man waits outside the carriage, his face a latticework of scars. He sees you as you exit the carriage, and his face quirks briefly with ill-hidden revulsion. You hate him, before you have even learned his name. The scene shifts again, and now you are in a small, dark room within that imposing building. Three of your elders sit in chairs behind an immense table, two men and one woman. One of the men is the hateful one, the scarred one. You already have several scars, earned in your first month in this place, given to you by this man. He speaks, demands the name you have chosen. You spit it out, bitterly. "Dranko." None of them know its meaning. You have already discovered it, in the library, having started to learn an ugly and guttural tongue that few have studied. Dranko. Unwanted. Unloved. Unwelcome. Then the second man, who strangely has shown you kindness, speaks, and now you are no longer sure if this is dream, or memory, or just your old schoolmaster speaking as he often does. "Hmph. Unwelcome indeed. But then, when had you ever learned what ‘welcome’ meant? You didn’t know it when you saw it, did you? But you were always welcome in the house of the Healer. I think you realize that now. And I imagine that you find that the name no longer fits you so well as you once thought it did. If you would keep it, think now that you are unwelcome to your foes, and the enemies of Delioch. And maintain hope, even in the blackest hours. One other thing, Brightmirror. On the next day of St. Jenniver, go to the farm of Saum Derrie, and bid him lend to you his family heirloom. Light a candle that night to the Lost Saint, who died long ago in the service of the Lord Healer, far from home. Light a candle and pray for the soul of Califax, whose very essence will hang in the balance. Let go the last of your hatred, and in your prayers, he will welcome you." You wake with a start, and you realize that there is a new, small, light-pink scar on the back of your left hand. It is shaped, somewhat abstractly but hard to mistake, as the holy symbol of Delioch. You now have the power, once per day per four levels, to cast any healing
spell at the range of your line of sight, and with its casting time cut
in half. A healing spell so cast does one point less per die, with a minimum
of one point per die.
Morningstar of Ell:
"Beautiful, isn’t it? A wonderful place to grow up, and to serve Mother Night. Who would believe the depth of evil that it hides? Well, no matter. That evil is well beyond you today, and you have other things to worry about. But don’t forget that it’s there. Some day you’ll have to deal with it, you and your friends. But not today. "Anyway, I wanted to warn you. If you end up crossing Posada’s boundaries, remember this. The nighttime there has its own mistress, and Her creatures stalk the shadows. Do not befriend them, for they will betray you. But do not be afraid; Ell will be with you, wherever your decide to go. And in case things get hairy, you’ll have an extra trick up your sleeve. Good luck!" You snap back into your meditation, still in the Temple of Ell at Tal
Hae. You know innately that you now have the ability to create a Cloak
of Night, once per night. A Cloak of Night, when cast outdoors in light
no greater than twilight, will make up to twelve people invisible to anyone
outside the Cloak, as long as they stay within 15 feet of you. While you
have the Cloak up, you can move at half your normal movement speed. Only
people who are within range at the time of the casting are affected, and
once someone leaves the area, they cannot come back into it. No one inside
the Cloak of Night can attack while the Cloak is up, or for one full round
after it is dropped, unless it is in clear self defense. It lasts for up
to two minutes per caster level.
Ernest Roundhill:
"Roasted Onion Salad -- prepare a hot fire of glowing coals, and let the heat warm the room and the hearts within. Take meat juices, and brush them onto freshly-cut slices of onions, carefully, letting none spill, and preserving what is not used. These you should grill upon the coals, only until tender, or the Goddess moves you to cease. Then let them stand covered for ten minutes. This is a good time to reflect on the aroma of onions, unique in all the world, and how even the vapors of your creations are divine in their fashion. And you know, humans love them. Ah, humans. So noble, and yet at the same time so flawed, and prone to an unpleasant complexity of thought and deed. They need to be protected, and reminded of what is good in all the Gods’ creations. You, Ernest, are going on a journey, and those who go with you will need your courage, and your determination, and your perspective. They will also need your strength, which cannot be measured by stature. Though as for that, you will find that, once per day (and only for a short while), you can let the Goddess imbue you with her strength. You were never one to abide a bully, and now would be no time to start! You are still admonished not to endanger yourself in anger, nor to put your life at risk unless another’s is at greater risk. This will be the shorter journey, as such things are measured, and without you, the longer one will be much harder for the rest. But Ernest, make sure this journey goes well, and keep those big’uns out of trouble if you can. And if you ever find yourselves in dire need of hearth and home, think of the Goddess, for she has many homes. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the onions. When they have stood for their proper time, take the mixture of the Five Essential Vinegars, add in the garlic, and…" You turn the page, and the recipe continues. But when you turn the page
back again, all that is there are detailed instructions on how to prepare
the Five Essential Vinegars, and how best to to crush cloves of garlic
for the dish. Nowhere is your name mentioned.
Saturday, October 2, 1830 -- Letter to the party from Ozilinsh, delivered via the Boxes of Transport. Sorry about the security measure, but this message contains sensitive information. Friends, I have grievous news to report. The Archmagus Grawly, leader of the Spire and my former Master, and his apprentice Thewana who is known to you, are dead, apparently murdered. It seems that both of them were attacked by a knife-wielding and magic-using assassin, just as they were finishing a particularly draining spell, and thus were vulnerable. From the evidence, it looks like Thewana was magically Held, while Grawly was run through repeatedly with a bladed weapon. Then the assassin did the same to Thewana. Finally, both of the bodies were burned beyond recognition, after they were already dead. There is no evidence of forced entry into Grawly’s tower, either physically or magically, and that has all the other Archmagi on edge, as you might imagine. Although this is a horrible and disturbing occurrence, it could have been much worse. The other Archmagi were able to improvise in the aftermath, to prevent Naradawk from taking advantage of the weakness of the warding spells. Fortunately, the attack on Grawly and Thewana was not coordinated with any push from the Other Side; Naradawk did not even try to take advantage of his window of opportunity, and we were able to close the gap and reestablish all the wards. The whole episode may have shaved a week or two from our estimates of the time until our Enemy breaks through at Verdshane. It leaves us wondering who was behind the attack...perhaps someone with a personal vendetta against either Grawly or Thewana? Or someone seeking to weaken the Spire at its highest level? We are investigating. Other news: the Nifi army, for an unknown reason, has stopped their
northward march about 30 miles south of Hydra, and have fallen back some.
They have sealed off the peninsula, and our best guess is that they are
I wish my news were better, but for now there is nothing cheering I
can tell you. Oh, Eddings tells me that some Ellish priestess stopped
by, and that she and some friends of hers had contacted Morningstar through
-O
Monday, November 30, 1830 -- Poem in Kemman holy book, found by One Certain Step read the signs as the shadows flow
read the signs, you are not alone
know them then by their mix of blood
tell them the door is close at hand
go with them to your certain doom
Rules of Farangi, Sport of Emperors The field is large – about the size of a soccer field, but with mounds near the corners and a shallow depression in the center. A low (3’) fence borders the playing field. There are four referee towers, one on each mound, and there are four other officials above the field who have had Fly spells cast on them. At either end of the field are three nets; a small central net worth 5 points, and two larger nets worth 2 points each. Lastly, there is a hoop on a 15’ pole, and getting the ball through that hoop (by any means) is worth 12 points. The nets are surrounded by a painted circle, and only two defending players are allowed in the circle at once. The ball is about the size of a soccer ball. Each team fields 12 players. There are 9 Kickers, 2 Ropers, and a Carrier. The ropers can use a 24’ length of strong rope in any way they want that does not cause permanent injury. The Kickers are basically playing soccer. The Carrier is the only player allowed to pick up the ball, throw it, etc. However, while there is generally no tackling in the game, anything can be done to the Carrier while he’s holding the ball in his hands. When there is a score, a new ball is immediately flung from a sideline catapult at mid-field. There are penalty kicks awarded for certain fouls, and players can be sent off the field for flagrant fouls. The game is timed by a huge Hourglass, turned by the Emperor himself. It lasts for 99 minutes. Any use of magic, weapons, or special equipment is forbidden, and a
team caught cheating must forfeit the game.
Saturday, January 10, 1831 -- Letter found in the Town Hall of Repose My Dear Brother Kollvhad, No doubt you will be shocked when you arrive here; things have gone terribly wrong in the past few days, and Repose has been abandoned by all save myself. I am counting on you knowing the right words for the guards at the door, the same words we have been using since we were children. I will try to sum up the events of the past week as best I can. One of our guests, an artist named Szanser, turned out to be a treacherous and powerful wizard. He had been following closely the progress of our utopia for decades, and had studied magics that let him gain control of our Golems. We make no secret that the wealth we collect from our guests is usually at hand, and this was his goal. Six days ago he seized control of over half of our Golems, and the carnage was terrible. The Town Hall, as you will have seen, was wrecked, and many of our best Makers were killed. Rynne from Dir-Tolia was killed, as were Anahd, Vellesa, Six Staves, Quisvhad, and all of their apprentices. Many others were killed whom you do not know, arrivals in the time since you left on your journey. Those who survived announced that Repose was a failure in the end, and have departed. I have been left with a different and more pressing problem. The wizard who fought us has been banished from the plane for a time, but we could not kill him. Before he was removed, he swore he would return, to kill me and all my family. I think he means to try. I traveled back to Tev, to consult with the Black Circle about what I might do about Szanser, and received a extremely long and curious reply. It was this: "Many lines of destiny are about to cross, past, present, and future. There is a way to keep the foe away forever, a thing crafted long ago, made of metal and magic and thought. It is called the Crosser’s Maze, and it sits undisturbed, far away, waiting to be taken. 40 miles south of the Whistling Stone, 100 miles east of Posada’s Tears, beneath an unending ceiling of green; here is the Maze. It waits for the right hand to take it, and when it is brought forth, letters will be writ in the past, signs etched in the present, and runes carved in the future. Waste no time. You are a Maker. Make the journey." I don’t understand all of it, but it is clear that this thing called the Crosser’s Maze will protect us from Szanser. Posada’s Tears is the name for a great cataract in the Jungle of Dreams, far to the south-east. The Circle has given us good advice in the past; I have resolved to travel there, and find this Maze. In the past few days, I have cleaned up the Hall somewhat, restored some of the wards, and set two guards at the door. Our valuables are as safe here as anywhere; Glaum will protect them. I would stay longer, but Szanser is probably wasting no time finding a way back from wherever we sent him, and I fear for our family’s safety. I hope that I will return to find you here, returned successfully yourself from your journey into the Astral. See what order you can make of what you find, and together we will start to rebuild anew. Given my fast means of travel, the long miles between the Wastes and the Jungle should not be more than a matter of weeks. Perhaps we see each other before the end of next month. Your brother, always in hope,
Vision of the deaths of Grey Wolf's parents, shown by Solomea in the Crosser's Maze You see Grey Wolf working in the kitchen with his mother; outside, his father is turning earth in a small garden. As you watch, three men and a woman in silver cloaks emerge from the trees. One of these steps forward and speaks briefly to the father. The two exchange heated words. Then the woman and one other man grab the father; the speaker makes a motion with his hands up to the sky, then draws a longsword, and with one swift stroke hacks Grey Wolf's father down. Grey Wolf's mother has moved to the doorway; she screams, and charges out of the house. The fourth silver-cloak casts a spell, and both Grey Wolf and his mother are paralyzed. The swordsman speaks briefly to the mother, and then slays her as he did the father. As he approaches Grey Wolf, you can see that the clasp of the silver cloak is a seashell. As he moves to strike down Grey Wolf, he is suddenly riddled with arrows; 16 grey wolf mercenaries come out of the woods, and overwhelm the other Silvercloaks. The mercs then have a discussion: "What do we do now?" asks one. "We go back and report to the Silvercloaks that the job is done." says the leader "And this one?" the first one points to Grey Wolf. "We don’t want him poking around, asking questions
about the godsdamned half-shells. And we cannot apprehend him; there are
still spies in the group. We have orders. We modify his memory.
Make him think this was just an attack by bandits looking for… tribute.
Heh. Loot the house, to make it look like it was just a robbery. Then...oh...
throw him into the woods, and set the house on fire."
Answer to the question: "Who is 'P'" given by Solomea Pirenne in the Crosser's Maze "P is the first initial of Parthol Runecarver, a name you may have heard. Your masters in the Spire have certainly heard of him. Long ago, he was one of the greatest Archmagi on Charagan. But he strayed from the path of servitude to the people, believing the mages themselves should rule outright. Frustrated that his fellows in the Spire did not share his lust for power, Parthol found a way to communicate with Naloric across the planar boundary, and it was only by Parthol’s treachery that Naloric was able to come back through the gate, bringing his army. His treachery cost the Elhen Tarathi their lives. He never told Lapis that part. When Naloric was defeated, Runecarver faked his own death and went into hiding. Now he plots with Naloric’s son Naradawk for the same purpose; to have his revenge upon the Spire. By his machinations the Blood Gargoyle was loosed upon Ghant, and while Fylnius was distracted, Meledien, Octesian and Restimar were brought through to Charagan. And with their help, Parthol has goaded the humanoids to the heights of war, a war which is forcing the Archmagi to more immediate need, leaving the Gate even less well secured. Oh, but it is a dangerous game the Runecarver plays, and his schemes are as deep as his malice. His days are filled with fear, despite his power. What if Naradawk finds out? What if Mokad, who doesn’t even know Parthol is alive, finds out? In the end, Parthol mostly wants the same thing you do, my friends. But he needs Naradawk to topple the Spire, before he breaks it. And takes its place.
April 8, 1831 -- Letter to Dranko from Califax Dranko, I cannot take chances, hence the subterfuge. The Circle is strong enough in their powers of divination that I dare not take fewer precautions. I warn you: do not discuss this anywhere exposed, and destroy all the papers when you're finished. I have been on the run since that day many months ago, when you saved me from the temptations of the Circle. They are searching for me, so I dare not stay in one place long. It is taking all of my abilities to keep them from me; what they seek, they usually find. I know some of their plans, Dranko, though not all. This at least I wanted to tell you; you must keep your companion Grey Wolf alive at all costs. For a while the Circle needed him alive, but they now have a terrible power waiting to be used. If he dies, they'll have him; a variant on the miracle of absolute resurrection that works even against the will of the soul. They may seek to kill him, and then use that power to have him in their clutches. They still need him alive, when the time comes. And that time is not too far off -- perhaps half a year, I’m not sure. I don't know what history you know, Dranko, but an ancient and evil emperor named Naloric Skewn once ruled the kingdom and was banished by the archmagi. His son Naradawk is trying to return. The plane on which he is trapped is heavily sealed against planar travel, and the only gateway between the two is secured by the kingdom's archmages. Perhaps Abernathy has told you this already. But Mokad seeks a better way. He wants to bring the two planes into absolute alignment, occupying the same space and time as each other, for just a short while. In that window of opportunity, he and his vast armies can step across, as easily as crossing the threshold of your house. Grey Wolf is the key; he is the axle around which both worlds turn. I don't know why or how. But I fear the only way to stop Mokad is to kill Grey Wolf, at the very moment of Mokad's ritual. And we must stop him, Dranko. Naradawk’s power is terrible, and he and his forces would overwhelm the kingdom, Archmagi or no. I wish I could tell you where the ritual is taking place, but I was never privy to that information. The only thing I learned that might help you is this, which I gleaned from a brief glimpse of a letter sent to Mokad: the ritual of concurrence must be held "beneath the open noon sky, and yet not beneath the direct watch of the sun." That clearly sounds like what sages call an "eclipse," where the gods set the moon in front of the sun for a brief time. Some sages claim that they can predict such things by watching the heavens, but none that I have asked think an eclipse will occur in the next three years. It will not be safe for me to try contacting you again for some time. Good luck, and may the hand of the Healer guide you. -Califax Wednesday, July 10, 1831 -- Words of the Eyes of Moirel, spoken through Eddings: Purple Eye: "Such a collection of foci is without precedent. Abernathy played a dangerous game, bringing so many together. And now the Light is with you. Keep him safe, or success sooner will turn to ash later." Green Eye: "You are nearly ready to make the great journey, to quiet the oscillating threads of fate. Into this place of refuge you have brought what you will need. You have the Focus, son of he who stood at the heart of nowhere in ages past. You have the Opener, without whom the light will tear your bodies free of all moorings. You have the Talisman, forged in days forgotten by the Earth Mage, without which the light will tear your minds free of all moorings. You have now a source of power, to make up for the lack of four of our brothers. All we now lack is the third. He must accompany us. Purple Eye: "Condor is a name you heard long ago, greatest of Naloric’s inner circle. He drove a spike through the fabric of all things, and locked the hole with seven keys. He told Naloric that it would be necessary, to correct future mistakes that could not be corrected. The Emperor was a skeptic, like all great men. He demanded that Condor’s daughter, Moirel, be the first to go through, as a test. Seven keys she held, and she plunged into the hole that her father had made. She emerged whole in body, but broken in mind. The keys were scattered, and Moirel wandered far to find them, until she forgot who she was. She had no Focus. She had no Opener. She had no hope. Green Eye: "But all plans and plots find their way into the great tapestry. We seven reached out into the multiverse during that first journey, clutching for life, for Abernia was inaccessible while we traveled. Volpos was the closest, and from there comes our sentience. We bound Volpos to Abernia, and Moirel absorbed the essence of both. Two planes of being locked together, Moirel at their center. Now her last descendant; he is the center. Both Eyes: "Beware, son of Moirel! When Abernia and Volpos embrace, the center will be burned away, to fuse the two together for a time. Enough time. Heed the words of the kyasha. Heed the words of the numismatist. Heed the words of the traitor. Stand in shadow. Stand ‘twixt the shadows. When the sky is revealed and the arcs touch your frame, the window will open. Your flame must be extinguished before the cores converge on your soul." Wednesday, July 10, 1831 -- Morningstar's dream concerning Makel and his return from death "Morningstar, Makel died in battle, and he might have rested happily
on the Endless Shore, content in the manner of his passing. His body, you
may recall, protested that he wasn’t finished yet; Makel wanted to see
things through to the end, with Restimar, and ultimately with Naradawk.
His perspective has changed since his arrival in the Outer Planes. He does
still want to come back, but not for the reasons he had before he died.
He has a different role now; he will not rejoin you and your company. He
will become one of six who will change the world forever, sundering a truth
that has held since the Travelers arrived with their flocks millennia ago."
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