Dear Journal,
One gets used to the musky stench of this place rather quickly when one is desperate for warmth. Moraldrum's lower city is heated by an array of ever-buring forges. The searing heat of the burning coals and the hissing steam of cooling metal upon water is the dwarves lifeblood. I find proximity to the furnaces and forges most comfortable, but the cavern fortress is not warmed as it should be. The magical storm sends a cold wind through the avenues and walkways of Moraldrum, chilling its citizens.
I arose from my meditative trance early this morning at yet another assault from the Tear of Ioun. I heard its mocking voices in Wellspring, and I heard them in Malachi's fortress. Thought I hear it now still, I am able to block it out. I was able to defend myself once more, but the latest assault left me weary, and it took me several hours to regain focus. I retreated farther below deck as our mental battle waged on, for I do not wish to involve or upset the others.
When I finally came above deck, the others were gathered at the starboard railing, pointing into the distance. To the northwest sat an ominous dark cloud which flashed with colorful streaks of lightning. Elwoz, noting that he had seen such a storm once before, identified it as a rift between this world and the elemental chaos. Cheers rang out as we realized our opportunity to destroy the tear, but Corath held up his hand to silence us, noting that the dwarves have no more than two weeks to prepare for the Dreknar assault. Knowing they must be completely off guard, we pondered for a moment before deciding to press on to Moraldrum. The tear caught a break today, for I value the life of the countless souls in Moraldrum and Merkemia that would fall to the might of Dreknar. I shall continue to carry the tear as long as it takes.
My spirits were low for a long while until we spied a mountain rising over the horizon. As we sailed on a bit further, we could see the face of a mighty fortress through the snowfall. The mountain ran from horizon to horizon, breaking in this one spot to form a natural pass. It is here the dwarves build their tremendous towers, flanking a stone wall and an enormous ornate door. Tiny dots scurried about the tops of the towers, indicating we were also visible to them. We descended onto the top of one of the towers and were greeted by a crowd of hammers and axes. Ballistas and crossbowmen took aim upon our vessel as it groaned to a halt and slowly sank down to meet the cool stone.
As we disembarked, led by Talos and Alyana, the dwarves lowered their arms and began excitedly chattered amongst themselves. The crowd parted as we were met by a well-decorated, though nervous-looking dwarf. As Talos requests an audience with King Thonin, for he knows of Moraldrum from dwelling within Merkemia all his days, our dwarf greeter takes the time to introduce himself as Commander Krull, second-in-command to King Thonin himself.
Krull explains that, as the 42nd, we are well respected amongst the people of Moraldrum, and would be allowed an audience with the king. However, he stops Corath and our other crewmen, who wear the insignia of the Dreknar empire. Though we protested, Krull would not budge, shooting a angry glare at Corath as he repeated his order. Corath accepted, agreeing to use this time to mend the ship and monitor Without's condition.
As we were escorted to the king's chambers, Talos explained that, though the dwarves of Moraldrum were allies of the kingdom of Merkemia, they were very reclusive and did not typically entertain visitors. They were obviously making an exception for the 42nd, much to Krull's chagrin.
All the dwarves we passed gazed in awe of the two veteran members of the 42nd. As we were led through the city, the banging of blacksmith hammers ceased along our path and those in view hooted and cheered. Annoyed at the attention we were receiving, Krull was obviously trying to lead us through less densely populated areas of the lower city.
One excited dwarf ran alongside our procession, shouting "Where is the hero Terrion?". Talos somberly told the dwarf that Terrion had fallen in battle. At the sight of the dwarf's deflated esteem, I attempted to bolster the poor creature's spirits by telling him Terrion fell a hero, for he took countless enemies with him to the grave. It warmed my heart to see the dwarf swell with pride once more.
We entered through a great iron door in an ornately decorated stone wall. The wall carvings seemed to depict a scene of dwarven conquest of the mountain from what appeared to be orcs. Onward we were led to a small chamber at the end of a well-guarded hallway. As we entered, we were met by the sight of a sickly dwarf sat up on the edge of a small bed.
King Thonin greeted us with a rattling cough. As he made a move to stand, Talos held out his hand to stay him. This dwarf, though proud and sturdy, was gravely ill, and was doing too much to sit up as it was. I explained the urgency of our message and our desperate need to speak with him concerning Dreknar. Krull, all the while, stood in the corner of the room, still eyeing us suspiciously. Talos and I exchanged knowing glances which indicated he shared my uneasiness over the commander's presence. We asked the king if we could speak with him alone, for the message was very sensitive. Krull began to protest, but the king raised his weakened hand to silence him and ordered him out of the room.
As we began to update King Thonin on our adventures, I could not shake a nagging feeling that we were being observed. I motioned for Talos to check the door, and when he swung it open, there stood Krull, who had been pressing his ear to the door in an effort to eavesdrop. Annoyed, Thonin barked for Krull to leave. The grumbling dwarf shot Talos an evil sneer and stomped away.
The king was aghast that there would be a traitor among the dwarves, though he said he should have seen the evidence. The storms would conveniently escalate when anyone would leave the fortress. Troops sent to Northwarden for supplies were either turned back by the raging tempest, or never returned.
To our amazement, Thonin explained that Baron Stovokor now leads the city of Northwarden, Merkemia's sentinel city on the Dreknar border. Stovokor must be notified of this calamity that threatens both Moraldrum and Merkemia, but Thonin has no more men to send. Not only has he fallen ill, hundreds of his men are in a similar condition.
We explained to Thonin that we have been getting a very uncomfortable feeling from Krull since we arrived, and it may be best if he not share any more tactical information with his commander until we conduct a thorough investigation. Talos also insisted the king should not accept any more food from his kitchens, handing him several days of his own rations. The king reluctantly accepts our terms, and agreed to allow us to have the freedom to go where we please within Moraldrum. He also relented on Krull's order to keep Corath on the ship, for he is just as much a part of the 42nd as any of us, and we owe him our lives countless times over.
We opened the door and called in one of the guards. Thonin repeated his order to allow us to conduct a special investigation within the city. He said the shops within Moraldrum would be most accomodating to our needs as well, insisting our fame would bring us a handsome discount whereever we went. Leaving Thonin with our thanks and blessings, we followed the guard back to our airship.
Without stood at the top of the ship's ramp as we ascended onto the tower platform. Clutching the orb, which seemed to have lost some of its sinister coloration, Without exclaimed that he had been given a series of visions. The orb, in a frantic attempt to contact Without, stuck him unconscious long enough to relay an important message. In two visions, Without explained, the orb had attempted to warn him of our fate. In the first vision, Without witnessed the 42nd, without the Tear of Ioun, in valiant battle within an empowering shower of light, slashing down foes and vanquishing evil. In another, we were shrouded in a dark fog, the tear pulsing a red glow from within my pack. The orb cracked and shattered, and we were cast into oblivion.
Without has been given direct orders from the orb, it seems, to destroy the Tear of Ioun, lest it detroy us and everything we hold dear. In spite of this dire news, Without insisted we retain our hope, for the orb is able to fight off the assault from the tear if its power is not unleashed often. How shocked I was to hear this! The tear is not lying dorment and collecting power to assault me! It is in constant battle with the orb! This short time we have spent apart has allowed the orb to cleanse itself from the tear's corruption.
Corath had explained to Without where we were, and the well-rested Without was eager to venture out into the city. We decided it wouldn't hurt to visit the local shops and gather supplies while we had the time.
We decided to split up and return to the ship when we each were ready to rest for the night. I made my way to the fortress's infirmary and, after asking directions, was led to a small carved archway in the cavern walls. As I ducked into the opening, I entered a quaint little magic shop. The walls were covered in parchments and books, and on several scattered tables lay magical trinkets and crystals. Introducing himself as Gunt Orcsmasher, and clad in the garments of a cleric of Avandra, the shopkeeper approached me and asked what I needed. I asked to see his ritual manuals, to study while I was in Moraldrum and perhaps master some additional incantations. After all, I am quite out of practice. I rely more on the divine manifestation within me, and rarely have a need for magical spells. However, those few I know have come in quite handy in my recent travels, and I felt it necessary to improve my skills for the good of the 42nd as a whole.
He explained that he is not really in the business of magical rituals. He knew a few himself, but had none for sale. Most of the books and parchments I saw, he said, were chronicles of adventurers long gone, or alchemical recipes. Then he smiled at me and told me he had something special just for me. He claimed it was Avandra, goddess of the wanderers, who had led me to him, and he could not ignore the sign. From behind his counter he pulled his personal spellbook. He began flipping furiously through the pages until he came to two pages with green dwarven writing.
He recognized me as one who appreciates the wonders of nature, and offered to teach me two incantations contained within his spellbook. He asked for my ritual book, turned to an open page, and placed a small yellow crystal atop it. He then told me to place my hand atop the crystal, and take his hand in the other. He placed his free hand upon his spellbook and began muttering an incantation in the dwarven tongue.
His incantations stopped and, in an instant, a wave of energy pulsed through me into the crystal, and beautifully written Elvish appeared on the blank page of my tome. Suddenly Gunt appeared unnerved. Shaking off his worrisome expression, he told me to meditate with my book in the night, and the book would speak to me, instilling the incantations in my mind.
He then began guiding me out of his shop. He told me he wished me luck in my travels and, pointing to my pack, told me never to bring "that" anywhere near his shop again. His expression answered my next question. He had felt the tear's influence during his spell. I thanked him and assured him I'd like to be rid of it soon.
I considered looking for a leathercrafter or similar armorer, but I was growing tired. My attire suits me well enough, I suppose. I met Talos and we walked together, admiring the intricate detail of the dwarven structures. We stopped on our way by the general store to replenish our gear. I had expended my sunrods, and my ink supply had run low. As we left, Elwoz was crawling on his hands and knees upon the cold stone outside the shop, calling out to Stoneroot, an ancient primal spirit created by Moradin before the Dawn War. Noticing us, he paused for a moment and instructed us to be on the lookout for the fire goat and tell him to get back to work. Mad and drunk as he his, one must appreciate his wise attempt to get in touch with dwarven history. Here's hoping his efforts prove worthwhile.
As we all arrived back on the ship, we assembled below deck to rest. Elwoz emerged from the storage room with several bottles of wine held clumsily in his arms. Pleased at his find, we all sat for a while and talked, passing the bottles around. Blim, our gnome crewman, and Without spoke together at length, since this was their first real meeting, and the gnomes and halflings always seem to share a deep comradery. Perhaps it is their size and perspective on the world which gives them common ground. Regardless, our new crewmen adjusted quickly.
I see it is time for my rest, for my thoughts are losing cohesion and I am beginning to ramble. Thank Corellon for guiding us to this safe place. It is good to let down our guard for a night and rest easy. May the light open our eyes tomorrow so that we may get to the bottom of the troubles facing the dwarves, and perhaps identify the traitor among them. Our time is short for, by Corath's estimate, we have about two weeks before the army of Dreknar assembles. Though the odds are against us, I have faith that we will prevail. We are here for a reason.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 20
Dear Journal,
Pity upon the fools who are so blind to doubt the power and wisdom of the gods. My faith is strong enough to cast away the darkness of doubt, but it is always refreshing and reassuring to bear witness to the evidence of my king's divine plan. Trusting our hearts, we set out toward the dwarven fortress upon the caverns of Moraldrum. This decision will prove to favor the forces which stand against Dreknar.
As we soared above the frozen and dark terrain, Alyana spied an encampment within a forest clearing. Though shelters and banners were visible, we were too high to discern their origin. We decided to surrender to curiosity, and descended until the banner insignia was revealed to us all. Corath, upon seeing the banner, insisted we land. He explained this banner indicated an old friend was below, and though the encampment crawled with Dreknar troops, he assured us that we would be safe.
As we landed, Corath pleaded with us to accompany him to speak with Lim Shargoth, a contact of his and commander in the Dreknar army. Deisa elected to remain with Without while Talos flat out refused to meet agents of Dreknar without a battle. Alyana, with her reliable vision and aim, would remain as well and support us if we needed to flee. Elwoz and I accompanied Corath as we disembarked and headed for the camp's sentries. At this point, the camp was buzzing with activity, and the sentries were at alert.
Proclaiming his name and heritage, Corath confronted the guards, and asked to speak with Lim Shargoth. A guard was dispatched, and disappeared into a central tent. In a moment the tent flaps parted and out walked a procession of Dreknar soldiers led by a tall and slender form, whos curves were accented by the dancing lights of the soldier's lanterns. It was apparent at this point that this female form was Lim Shargoth herself. As she stopped before Corath, her features became visible through the falling snow, revealing a knowing smile directed at our teifling friend.
Corath, though he must have been 10 years her senior, evidently had a long history with this woman. Her eyes burned with the flames of, among other things, countless battles, her features seemed untarnished and, though aging out of her prime, she still possessed an enchanting and sensual aura. I have often been mesmerized by the elf and the human women of this land, and the horns which mark the infernal pact of the teifling's ancestors does little to dissuade a similar interest in this female. Unfortunately, my mission overrules my appetite, and the way this one eyes Corath tells me to keep my thoughts to myself. Well, done, Korath. Well done, indeed.
They spoke for a moment, and we were told of a planned march upon the dwarven fortress of Moraldrum by Dreknar's army of soldiers and mercenaries. This was but a small contingent of troops meeting up for the battle. The troops were to use the fortress as a base for invasion into Merkemia. The violent storms, she said, were the work of a powerful elf, named Shirou, who commanded chaotic elemental powers. Shirou patrolled these skies on a great dragon and meant to prevent us from leaving Dreknar alive. To make matters worse, Lim Shargoth told of a Dreknar informant within the dwarven ranks.
At the announcement of our intentions, Corath and Elwoz apparently touched upon a sensitive subject amongst Lim Shargoth's forces. Mumbles and chatter moved through the scattered cluster of troops, and soon we had our first defector. An elf, moved by the proclamation, approached us and pledged his service. Brolani, as this elf was named, told us he had lost faith in Dreknar and wished to aid us in our quest. Lim Shargoth didn't flinch at this news. She said she would rather not have any doubters among her ranks and besides, this would even the fight a bit and she wished for nothing less than a challenge. Though she did not always agree with Dreknar, her duty was to her emperor. Honorable, yes. Also a pity.
Perhaps it was the news of our exploits and defeat of Malachi. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Dreknar employed agents of the Underdark. Perhaps, still, it was the inspiring words of our drunken shaman. Soon two others from her ranks joined us: a gnome named Blim, and another proud elf, Lynn.
Noticing a young elf woman leaned against her tent, I approached and introduced myself. I suggested she join us to battle the forces of the Underdark. My confidence was soaring. Surely a fey cousin would see my markings and readily join a follower of Corellon in a most noble quest. I stood speechless and wounded as she spat at me, calling me and my ornaments "disgusting". Disheartened and shocked, I stood and stared, attempting to form the words to contest this absurd attack. Elwoz simply grabbed my arm and tugged me back towards the airship, attempting to reassure me by saying "You can't save 'em all." and belching loudly. I suppose he's right. I suppose I cannot always protect Corellon's children, and nor can I judge them. Turning against the forces of harmony and balance is punishment enough. I pray she realizes her error before she falls in battle beside a vile drow or a drooling goblin.
Alas, we must view these three new allies as a blessing. For our journey will prove easier having additional crewmen on board, and our turns at our stations will be shorter, granting us much needed rest.
That is, unless tomorrow brings more attacks like the one we faced today. As we drifted away from Lim Shargoth's encampment, she warned us that Shirou was watching, and to confirm, the weather worsened yet again. How I have come to despise the snow! Elwoz was able to maintain our course with the assistance of our new crewmen, who volunteered to man their stations immediately in an honorable display of dedication and allegiance. Only Corath and Elwoz needed to remain at their stations, and Diesa remained below deck beside Without.
I must assume Corellon sent these men to our aid, for their arrival proved most fortunate. While the ship was adequately manned, it left us well rested and alert for the inevitable attack.
Alyana noticed the swiftly approaching figures. Two mounted blizzard dragons roared through the frozen curtain of snow and headed straight towards us. Materializing behind them was a blustering elemental construct of the very wind which assailed us. Atop each dragon rode a shadar-kai warrior, clad in armor which churned and glowed with elemental magic. Alyana took aim and, with a brilliant show of marksmanship, struck the closest shadar-kai in his shoulder. Luckily this was the arm which held his reins, and he toppled over the dragons back and plummeted down into the white abyss. His dragon roared, clearly eager to continue the battle, but appeared compelled to assist his master. After a slight hesitation and hiss at Alyana, the dragon dove down into the darkness as we sailed onward.
The elemental swooped onto the stern, and the remaining dragon and his rider moved in to flank. Our volleys proved too much for the reptile, pushing it from the stern and causing it to dance to the port side, where the shadar kai dismounted and began lashing out with his bladed chained flail.
Elwoz's spirit magic did well to keep the elemental at bay, as I rushed to join him. Talos struggled to defend the ship from the dragon, who now clawed at the deck and flailed his head about, assailing my allies with his icy breath. His large size, however, hindered his ability to battle upon his feet in the storm and, as a result, he spent most of his time trying to maintain his balance as we sailed into the howling wind. By the time Talos fatally slit the monster's neck, the beast was dotted with arrows, one of which blinded the dragon's right eye. The beast gurgled in an attempted roar, swooned, and collapsed into an awkward heap. We hardly noticed as its corpse slowly slid off the port side.
The elemental, too, knew not what it had encountered as Getty and a host of spirits assaulted it in a wispy blur of a churning, misty haze. Coupled with my bursts of radiant magic, we battled the elemental back towads the fray so that Elwoz could maintain the ship's course. With a mighty roar, Talos swung his sword through our enemy, cutting a line straight through the foggy form which quickly filled with the mist of Elwoz's conjured companions. As the spirits rushed in, the forms collectively twisted and ebbed, collapsing into a grayish orb which then erupted with a boom, sending the spirits sailing away in the wind, and the elemental back to the ether.
The shadar-kai rider was causing a great deal of trouble, dodging Alyana's arrows and whipping the our paladin while he was distracted with the dragon. Now, though, he had nowhere to go. I am not of the greatest use in these close-quarter battles, so I pushed the battle-hungry Corath aside and took his place at the controls of the starboard fin, allowing him to aid in the battle.
Surrounded, the shadar-kai invoked his chaotic magic and desperately swung his vicious chained weapon. Though he fought fiercely, a poorly-timed lash at Diogi left him open as Corath's blade slipped into his chest, piercing his heart.
By now, we had seen the dragon from earlier, with his rider, approach us again from the stern. At the sight of the other dragon plunging to its final resting place, soon followed by his partner who Talos scooped up and slung over the railing, the rider pulled the reins and soared off into the night. Damage to the craft was minimal, and we decided to continue our course. Corath estimates, based on our time in the air and the position of Lim Shargoth's forces, that we are very close to the dwarven fortress.
Splendid and awesome is the dragon. Though often incredibly dangerous, the dragon is still one of the most majestic of the creatures in all existence. Even those corrupted by necrotic energy or chaotic magic are still breathtaking. Such might and confidence! It is a shame most of these creatures are evil if not completely corrupted. They would make excellent protectors against malicious forces. Unfortunately, the opposite is usually true. Take our latest enemies, for instance. The dark scaley figure with its open chest with its pulsing, glowing energy, is an amazing specimen if only in image. Conversly, its mind and instincts are festering cesspools of madness.
If I recall correctly, it was the primordial Umbora which bred these beasts, along with others of varied elemental corruptions, to battle the Raven Queen. They are descended from those dragons who lost their will after the tragic death of Io at the hands of Erek-Hus, the King of Terror. After failing their quest, they resigned to the elemental chaos.
Let the dragons come. Let the armies of Dreknar march upon us. Just make this damned snow cease! I shall set myself before the coals of a dwarven forge and revel in its warmth. For now I have relied on the occasional sip of the swill Elwoz keeps in his flask. "Smells of a bear's taint most dire, but fills your cold veins with fire," he chants. I've come to believe it. I'm starting to think perhaps we should wave this bottle before Without's nose to release him from his trance.
I cannot complain too harshly. I have much to be thankful for. We are in good company. We have this fortunate means of transportation. We are victorious in battle once again. Surely our luck is taking a turn for the better.
I shant ramble on any further, Journal. It is past time for my rest. May His graces continue to light the way.
Pity upon the fools who are so blind to doubt the power and wisdom of the gods. My faith is strong enough to cast away the darkness of doubt, but it is always refreshing and reassuring to bear witness to the evidence of my king's divine plan. Trusting our hearts, we set out toward the dwarven fortress upon the caverns of Moraldrum. This decision will prove to favor the forces which stand against Dreknar.
As we soared above the frozen and dark terrain, Alyana spied an encampment within a forest clearing. Though shelters and banners were visible, we were too high to discern their origin. We decided to surrender to curiosity, and descended until the banner insignia was revealed to us all. Corath, upon seeing the banner, insisted we land. He explained this banner indicated an old friend was below, and though the encampment crawled with Dreknar troops, he assured us that we would be safe.
As we landed, Corath pleaded with us to accompany him to speak with Lim Shargoth, a contact of his and commander in the Dreknar army. Deisa elected to remain with Without while Talos flat out refused to meet agents of Dreknar without a battle. Alyana, with her reliable vision and aim, would remain as well and support us if we needed to flee. Elwoz and I accompanied Corath as we disembarked and headed for the camp's sentries. At this point, the camp was buzzing with activity, and the sentries were at alert.
Proclaiming his name and heritage, Corath confronted the guards, and asked to speak with Lim Shargoth. A guard was dispatched, and disappeared into a central tent. In a moment the tent flaps parted and out walked a procession of Dreknar soldiers led by a tall and slender form, whos curves were accented by the dancing lights of the soldier's lanterns. It was apparent at this point that this female form was Lim Shargoth herself. As she stopped before Corath, her features became visible through the falling snow, revealing a knowing smile directed at our teifling friend.
Corath, though he must have been 10 years her senior, evidently had a long history with this woman. Her eyes burned with the flames of, among other things, countless battles, her features seemed untarnished and, though aging out of her prime, she still possessed an enchanting and sensual aura. I have often been mesmerized by the elf and the human women of this land, and the horns which mark the infernal pact of the teifling's ancestors does little to dissuade a similar interest in this female. Unfortunately, my mission overrules my appetite, and the way this one eyes Corath tells me to keep my thoughts to myself. Well, done, Korath. Well done, indeed.
They spoke for a moment, and we were told of a planned march upon the dwarven fortress of Moraldrum by Dreknar's army of soldiers and mercenaries. This was but a small contingent of troops meeting up for the battle. The troops were to use the fortress as a base for invasion into Merkemia. The violent storms, she said, were the work of a powerful elf, named Shirou, who commanded chaotic elemental powers. Shirou patrolled these skies on a great dragon and meant to prevent us from leaving Dreknar alive. To make matters worse, Lim Shargoth told of a Dreknar informant within the dwarven ranks.
At the announcement of our intentions, Corath and Elwoz apparently touched upon a sensitive subject amongst Lim Shargoth's forces. Mumbles and chatter moved through the scattered cluster of troops, and soon we had our first defector. An elf, moved by the proclamation, approached us and pledged his service. Brolani, as this elf was named, told us he had lost faith in Dreknar and wished to aid us in our quest. Lim Shargoth didn't flinch at this news. She said she would rather not have any doubters among her ranks and besides, this would even the fight a bit and she wished for nothing less than a challenge. Though she did not always agree with Dreknar, her duty was to her emperor. Honorable, yes. Also a pity.
Perhaps it was the news of our exploits and defeat of Malachi. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Dreknar employed agents of the Underdark. Perhaps, still, it was the inspiring words of our drunken shaman. Soon two others from her ranks joined us: a gnome named Blim, and another proud elf, Lynn.
Noticing a young elf woman leaned against her tent, I approached and introduced myself. I suggested she join us to battle the forces of the Underdark. My confidence was soaring. Surely a fey cousin would see my markings and readily join a follower of Corellon in a most noble quest. I stood speechless and wounded as she spat at me, calling me and my ornaments "disgusting". Disheartened and shocked, I stood and stared, attempting to form the words to contest this absurd attack. Elwoz simply grabbed my arm and tugged me back towards the airship, attempting to reassure me by saying "You can't save 'em all." and belching loudly. I suppose he's right. I suppose I cannot always protect Corellon's children, and nor can I judge them. Turning against the forces of harmony and balance is punishment enough. I pray she realizes her error before she falls in battle beside a vile drow or a drooling goblin.
Alas, we must view these three new allies as a blessing. For our journey will prove easier having additional crewmen on board, and our turns at our stations will be shorter, granting us much needed rest.
That is, unless tomorrow brings more attacks like the one we faced today. As we drifted away from Lim Shargoth's encampment, she warned us that Shirou was watching, and to confirm, the weather worsened yet again. How I have come to despise the snow! Elwoz was able to maintain our course with the assistance of our new crewmen, who volunteered to man their stations immediately in an honorable display of dedication and allegiance. Only Corath and Elwoz needed to remain at their stations, and Diesa remained below deck beside Without.
I must assume Corellon sent these men to our aid, for their arrival proved most fortunate. While the ship was adequately manned, it left us well rested and alert for the inevitable attack.
Alyana noticed the swiftly approaching figures. Two mounted blizzard dragons roared through the frozen curtain of snow and headed straight towards us. Materializing behind them was a blustering elemental construct of the very wind which assailed us. Atop each dragon rode a shadar-kai warrior, clad in armor which churned and glowed with elemental magic. Alyana took aim and, with a brilliant show of marksmanship, struck the closest shadar-kai in his shoulder. Luckily this was the arm which held his reins, and he toppled over the dragons back and plummeted down into the white abyss. His dragon roared, clearly eager to continue the battle, but appeared compelled to assist his master. After a slight hesitation and hiss at Alyana, the dragon dove down into the darkness as we sailed onward.
The elemental swooped onto the stern, and the remaining dragon and his rider moved in to flank. Our volleys proved too much for the reptile, pushing it from the stern and causing it to dance to the port side, where the shadar kai dismounted and began lashing out with his bladed chained flail.
Elwoz's spirit magic did well to keep the elemental at bay, as I rushed to join him. Talos struggled to defend the ship from the dragon, who now clawed at the deck and flailed his head about, assailing my allies with his icy breath. His large size, however, hindered his ability to battle upon his feet in the storm and, as a result, he spent most of his time trying to maintain his balance as we sailed into the howling wind. By the time Talos fatally slit the monster's neck, the beast was dotted with arrows, one of which blinded the dragon's right eye. The beast gurgled in an attempted roar, swooned, and collapsed into an awkward heap. We hardly noticed as its corpse slowly slid off the port side.
The elemental, too, knew not what it had encountered as Getty and a host of spirits assaulted it in a wispy blur of a churning, misty haze. Coupled with my bursts of radiant magic, we battled the elemental back towads the fray so that Elwoz could maintain the ship's course. With a mighty roar, Talos swung his sword through our enemy, cutting a line straight through the foggy form which quickly filled with the mist of Elwoz's conjured companions. As the spirits rushed in, the forms collectively twisted and ebbed, collapsing into a grayish orb which then erupted with a boom, sending the spirits sailing away in the wind, and the elemental back to the ether.
The shadar-kai rider was causing a great deal of trouble, dodging Alyana's arrows and whipping the our paladin while he was distracted with the dragon. Now, though, he had nowhere to go. I am not of the greatest use in these close-quarter battles, so I pushed the battle-hungry Corath aside and took his place at the controls of the starboard fin, allowing him to aid in the battle.
Surrounded, the shadar-kai invoked his chaotic magic and desperately swung his vicious chained weapon. Though he fought fiercely, a poorly-timed lash at Diogi left him open as Corath's blade slipped into his chest, piercing his heart.
By now, we had seen the dragon from earlier, with his rider, approach us again from the stern. At the sight of the other dragon plunging to its final resting place, soon followed by his partner who Talos scooped up and slung over the railing, the rider pulled the reins and soared off into the night. Damage to the craft was minimal, and we decided to continue our course. Corath estimates, based on our time in the air and the position of Lim Shargoth's forces, that we are very close to the dwarven fortress.
Splendid and awesome is the dragon. Though often incredibly dangerous, the dragon is still one of the most majestic of the creatures in all existence. Even those corrupted by necrotic energy or chaotic magic are still breathtaking. Such might and confidence! It is a shame most of these creatures are evil if not completely corrupted. They would make excellent protectors against malicious forces. Unfortunately, the opposite is usually true. Take our latest enemies, for instance. The dark scaley figure with its open chest with its pulsing, glowing energy, is an amazing specimen if only in image. Conversly, its mind and instincts are festering cesspools of madness.
If I recall correctly, it was the primordial Umbora which bred these beasts, along with others of varied elemental corruptions, to battle the Raven Queen. They are descended from those dragons who lost their will after the tragic death of Io at the hands of Erek-Hus, the King of Terror. After failing their quest, they resigned to the elemental chaos.
Let the dragons come. Let the armies of Dreknar march upon us. Just make this damned snow cease! I shall set myself before the coals of a dwarven forge and revel in its warmth. For now I have relied on the occasional sip of the swill Elwoz keeps in his flask. "Smells of a bear's taint most dire, but fills your cold veins with fire," he chants. I've come to believe it. I'm starting to think perhaps we should wave this bottle before Without's nose to release him from his trance.
I cannot complain too harshly. I have much to be thankful for. We are in good company. We have this fortunate means of transportation. We are victorious in battle once again. Surely our luck is taking a turn for the better.
I shant ramble on any further, Journal. It is past time for my rest. May His graces continue to light the way.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 19
Dear Journal,
Admittedly, I am longing for the few days upon the open, frozen tundra. I have never flown and shall never long to fly again. Today's travels have seen to that.
Admittedly, I am longing for the few days upon the open, frozen tundra. I have never flown and shall never long to fly again. Today's travels have seen to that.
The weather had worsened considerably this morning, forcing us to climb high above the trees to avoid a collision. Our ship dipped and swayed during the storm, with no help from our inebriated helmsman, who repeatedly startled us with cries of "Man overboard" each time one of his delusions was swept from the deck. Be it the spirit of the blind mountain goose, or the family of saber-tooth river otters, these friends of Elwoz are quite prone to misfortune.
When I arose from my meditations, I could clearly detect the presence of a chaotic magic. The wind and blinding snow were the work of some malevolent force, of this I am certain. This theory of mine was bolstered by the others' tales of a mounted winged creature spied in the distance. Though I did not encounter this phantom during my watch, I cannot easily dismiss my friends' observation.
We somehow managed to soar through the worst storm I have seen in all my days. For hours our vessel was rocked and battered by the roaring winds and barrage of hailstones. Our first disaster came in the form of a broken fin. The rope which pulls our starboard fin suddenly succumbed to the cold, snapping midway like a frosted twig. This left the fin flapping and tearing in the strong winds, quickly disentegrating before our eyes. The others had their stations on the vessel, so I rushed below deck to find supplies and was able to procure a new fin and some rope.One again on deck, I summoned the magical abilities within these stunning new boots of mine, and was able to walk on the side of the ship as if it were level ground. Is it as if the boots themselves commanded their own gravity. Though initially disorienting, I quickly found my bearings and mended the damaged vessel. However, we were not out of peril yet.
When I arose from my meditations, I could clearly detect the presence of a chaotic magic. The wind and blinding snow were the work of some malevolent force, of this I am certain. This theory of mine was bolstered by the others' tales of a mounted winged creature spied in the distance. Though I did not encounter this phantom during my watch, I cannot easily dismiss my friends' observation.
We somehow managed to soar through the worst storm I have seen in all my days. For hours our vessel was rocked and battered by the roaring winds and barrage of hailstones. Our first disaster came in the form of a broken fin. The rope which pulls our starboard fin suddenly succumbed to the cold, snapping midway like a frosted twig. This left the fin flapping and tearing in the strong winds, quickly disentegrating before our eyes. The others had their stations on the vessel, so I rushed below deck to find supplies and was able to procure a new fin and some rope.One again on deck, I summoned the magical abilities within these stunning new boots of mine, and was able to walk on the side of the ship as if it were level ground. Is it as if the boots themselves commanded their own gravity. Though initially disorienting, I quickly found my bearings and mended the damaged vessel. However, we were not out of peril yet.
As if the storm took umbrage at our stroke of luck and resourcefulness, it began to intensify. Soon we were forced to stand at an angle facing the oncoming wind which tore a few planks from the deck, whizzing past our clueless helmsman as he shouted his side of an argument with Getty, apparently over what to get the "dolphin-bat" for his birthday. At least, that's what I made out amongst the rushing wind, creaking wood, and Diogi's nervous barking.
As chaos nearly engulfed the ship, I was struck by a hailstone in the center of my chest, blasting the air from my lungs and knocking me off balance. For a split second, I watched the desk of the ship race away from under my feet. Luckily I had just grabbed a loose rope tied to the ship's railing. My arms lacked the strength to pull myself in against the torrential force of the wind. Luckily, the ties to the Feywild in this land were strong. I mustered as much concentration as the situation would allow, and slipped through the Fey, appearing safely upon the deck once again, just as another blast of wind rocked the ship.
Alyana skidded to a halt after a short slide. Diogi was thrown against Talos who, with his heavy armor, was fairing well against the whipping wind. Diesa and Corath held as well. Without looking, I knew Elwoz remained due to the stream of curses at his imaginary friends being thrown from the deck.
After this last assault from the storm, I took it upon myself to tie the others to the railings to prevent any fatal falls. It proved to work well, as it caught a few of us during our flight. The storm subsided a few hours ago and, after taking inventory and counting heads, we resumed our trek.
I have finished my watch and have come down below for my meditations and to escape the cold. Unfortunately for any of us resting here tonight, Without seems to be chilling the entire deck with his current affliction. Though nestled under several blankets, ice rests upon his nose and cheeks, and frost has formed all around the floor and bed. I welcome this discomfort for now. To lose his chaotic conditions would be alarming, considering his current condition. Perhaps this is cause for hope.
I shall take my rest now, Journal, and I will be sure to say a few additional prayers for my little friend. May he return to us soon, for I feel this flight will prove most treacherous. Farewell for now, dear Journal. May we be bathed in his glory and light in the coming challenges.Alyana skidded to a halt after a short slide. Diogi was thrown against Talos who, with his heavy armor, was fairing well against the whipping wind. Diesa and Corath held as well. Without looking, I knew Elwoz remained due to the stream of curses at his imaginary friends being thrown from the deck.
After this last assault from the storm, I took it upon myself to tie the others to the railings to prevent any fatal falls. It proved to work well, as it caught a few of us during our flight. The storm subsided a few hours ago and, after taking inventory and counting heads, we resumed our trek.
I have finished my watch and have come down below for my meditations and to escape the cold. Unfortunately for any of us resting here tonight, Without seems to be chilling the entire deck with his current affliction. Though nestled under several blankets, ice rests upon his nose and cheeks, and frost has formed all around the floor and bed. I welcome this discomfort for now. To lose his chaotic conditions would be alarming, considering his current condition. Perhaps this is cause for hope.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 18
Dear Journal,
It has been quite the adventurous day! I am torn between the excitement of glorious battle with the enemies of Corellon and concern for the well-being of one of my partners.
Our rest in the night was interrupted by a gaggle of nymphs. I detected a form sifting through Elwoz's belongings and, without thinking, I fired a divine bolt toward the thief. Though my aim was poor, the momentary illumination revealed a startled wood nymph and other shadows moving amongst the trees. Though not normally a terrible threat to travelers, these nymphs, taking to thievery, were obviously very desperate. I had ruined any chance of diplomacy through my overzealous response, and battle ensued. Soon more forms appeared, surrounding our campsite.
The nymphs skillfully wielded their daggers and possessed strong, seductive magic. To boot, we were in their home, and they drew strength from the surrounding trees, stubbornly battling their wounds and pressing on with the fight. We were at a great disadvantage, despite Without's current affliction of arching strands of lighting illuminating the battlefield. In the end, two nymphs remained and, realizing their misfortune, finally succumb to negotiations.
In the battle, our foolish guide decided to flee, running into the dark night with his hands still bound. Thankfully, our prisoners offered to guide us to the end of the forest in the direction we needed to go.
Not late into our trek, the nymphs were alerted to one of their many traps. The cyclops had attempted to take refuge in a large burrow into a tree trunk, finding himself trapped in an illusion of a deep cavern, with no escape. He was more delighted to see us than he was ashamed at being recaptured.
The nymphs led us safely to the end of the forest, guiding us around many of their magical traps. As we broke the tree line into another frozen valley before a large mountain range which ran parallel to the forest., the nymphs turned back into the forest.
As we reached the mountain base, Alyana scouted ahead. She returned with news of two possible paths. The first was guarded by a group of Drow in front of a large tarp. The other was a cave entrance. We decided to follow the cavern, believing it would help us avoid unnecessary conflict with the Drow.
The cyclops led us to a door at the cavern entrance through which we heard the rumbling snore of another elderly cyclops our prisoner called Bouge. Our guide broke away from us, barreling into the room to warn of our arrival, but as he entered the room beyond the door and short hallway, he fell through a well-hidden trap door. None of this seemed to alarm the senile sentry much. After speaking briefly with the squinting old coot, he let us pass, slipping into a deep sleep while babbling quietly to himself.
Talos had to drag me away from a fomorian statue which I was busy trying to topple. It was well beyond why my strength would allow, but I was caught up in my anger at these treacherous monsters. Through the fog of rage, I left the room with my allies, overhearing the cyclops muttering the word "digba". I barely hear him over the sound of my companions shushing my stream of curses. I suspected there were fomorians about this place.
We ascended a flight of stairs into a cleaned carved rectangular room with walls at perfect right angles to the floor and ceiling. On either end of the room sat an active forge. Three iron statues against separate walls stood guard over a flaming pedestal in the center of the room. Within the flames rested a shimmering ring. The allure of this trinket was too much for Alyana to pass up, and as soon as she plucked the ring from the flames with the nimble flick of one of her arrows, one of the statues animated. As it approached Talos, preparing to strike, I felt the urge to repeat the word the old man muttered as we left the cavern entrance. "Digba" sent the statue back to its post where it stood quiet and still once again. We were not taking any chances, however, and heaved the statues into the forges, melting them down to a molten liquid.
Through a short hallway, around a corner, lie an entrance to a dining hall. Alyana scouted this area and returned with news of a fomorian. I do not recall the rest of her report, as the news of a fomorian sent me marching around the corner and into the room, the others scurrying to maintain a defensive position. I tore into the room, faced with three cyclopes, one female and two elderly males, and a lumbering, grotesque fomorian. I lept upon a table, making a point to brandish every piece of Corellon themed jewelry and insignias, and mustered all of my willpower. A radiant ball of flame set the formorian ablaze as I rebuked him and his kind. He rushed at me as my allies tore into the room, blades singing alongside the plucked tune of Alyana's bowstrings and Diogi's threatening growl. The fomorian was able to reach out with his whip and strike me down from the table, leaving me reeling from a blow backed by wicked necrotic energy. Talos was able to hold him for a while, but soon fell under the hypnotic spell of the accursed beast and was incapacitated. It was Elwoz who felled the monster, summoning a hazy spirit from the surrounding stone to assail the fomorian's spirit, leaving the beast a withered, empty shell. The battle quickly turned again the heretic's minions.
There are fewer things in existence I despise more than the fomorian. They declare themselves the best of the Fey races, while allowing lower, less intelligent beings to openly worship them as living gods. So deep is their hatred of Corellon's beauty and magic that they devote their very being to undermining the Divine's influence and creations. It brings me great pleasure to have seen the fall of one of their kind. Elwoz refuses to take credit upon my congradulations, granting the honor upon the spirit he conjured. Though I was only able to detect a deep, smokey haze surround our foe, Elwoz insists it was the spirit of a dire lobster from a time when this land was far beneath a great sea. I believe the forces of nature guide him and bring him great power, but I find his often detailed descriptions to be suspect when his drunken vision barely allows him the ability to lace his boots.
We ascended another flight of stairs into a small chamber on a flat opening to the surface, into which Corath and Alyana ventured. We remained behind, awaiting their signal. Upon the first cries of battle, we stormed out just as Alyana and Corath were engaging a couple of drow and a hideous drider. To think the drider's form is actually considered a blessing from the Spider Queen. Well her and her followers be damned, for the curse of the drow proved to be the lesser against the might and power of the 42nd.
Our battle was not without its challenges, however, and I did not remain conscious for its conclusion. The surface storm was raging once again, and our vision was severely obstructed. The stealthy drow dove in and out of the shadows, striking with weapons laced with dizzying poison. Elwoz was the first to succumb to the venom as a Drow's blade nicked his right side. Getty pushed the drow back from his master, back into the melee of Talos and Corath's blades. In moments, however, Elwoz had dropped to the ground, rendered unconscious from his tainted wound.
I, too, was struck on my forearm as I sloppily parried a blow from a rushing drow who caught me off guard. A blast from my magical rod sent him to his eternal rest. In the midst of the storm, we could make out the towering form of an airship, and I made my way towards it, in hopes of readying an escape if the need arose. As I neared the ship, I saw it was manned by no more than five grimlocks, bustling about the deck. I gathered my remaining strength and summoned a great wind which blew the monsters from the desk, off into the roaring white oblivion. As I ran up the ramp to the deck, I tried to hold on to consciousness, for the sounds of battle behind me had not ended, and I feared for my allies. Unfortunately, the drow's poison was too strong. Darkness overtook me.
I awoke later to the others standing over me, ushering me onto the ship for our departure. After learning that the enemies were neutralized, I felt obliged to christen our new vessel with something from the heart. I retreated briefly back into the mountain tunnels, coming upon the fomorian corpse. Cleaving his head from his shoulders, I returned to the ship and affixed it at the bow. Let all those before us know we are enemies of evil!
As we took inventory of the ship's supplies, we noticed Without was frantic. Sweat rolled off his face in buckets, and we though he had been caught by the drows' poison as well, but he simply pulled his orb from his pack, rolled his eyes back into his head, and collapsed, still clutching his magical relic.
He still breathed, and his heart rate was normal, but he would not respond to our attempts to wake him, so we gently put him to rest in the lower decks, upon a bed in the crew's quarters. His orb was turning a crimson shade of red, and dark, black cracks appeared deep within the sphere. I suspect it is the cause of Without's affliction, though there is nothing we can do but wait and pray.
We have decided to travel to the land of the dwarves, since the trek will not take as long by air, and it will do us good to be amongst allies of the kingdom once again. Perhaps there are skilled clerics who will be able to determine what ails our halfling friend. For now, Diesa stands by his bedside, chanting prayers and incantations to ward off any potential sickness, but there is still no sign of improvement.
Our flight has taken us a significant distance from the mountain, by my estimation. The storm still continues, and it is hard to gauge distances or even see clearly what lies around us. We have momentarily stopped in a clearing to rest for the night. It is a much needed rest, for the battles we faced today have surely taken their toll, and left us with more questions. Why has the Dreknar empire enlisted the aid of Fey monsters and Underdark thugs? What are they planning now?
Again Corellon has blessed us with success in our battles, and fueled my determination against this Dreknar enemy. I had once believed my allegiance with these warriors of the kingdom to be appropriate to combat a general evil threat of the Tear. It has now become personal. The forces of Dreknar ally themselves with the enemies of Corellon himself! Their guilt for the sins again the races of the feywild extend by association. I look forward to the fall of Dreknar, and I shall see it through until the end.
I am to take first watch tonight, Journal. I shall write again tomorrow, no doubt of our continued success against the forces of evil. May His light guide the way and His grace follow us wherever this journey leads.
It has been quite the adventurous day! I am torn between the excitement of glorious battle with the enemies of Corellon and concern for the well-being of one of my partners.
Our rest in the night was interrupted by a gaggle of nymphs. I detected a form sifting through Elwoz's belongings and, without thinking, I fired a divine bolt toward the thief. Though my aim was poor, the momentary illumination revealed a startled wood nymph and other shadows moving amongst the trees. Though not normally a terrible threat to travelers, these nymphs, taking to thievery, were obviously very desperate. I had ruined any chance of diplomacy through my overzealous response, and battle ensued. Soon more forms appeared, surrounding our campsite.
The nymphs skillfully wielded their daggers and possessed strong, seductive magic. To boot, we were in their home, and they drew strength from the surrounding trees, stubbornly battling their wounds and pressing on with the fight. We were at a great disadvantage, despite Without's current affliction of arching strands of lighting illuminating the battlefield. In the end, two nymphs remained and, realizing their misfortune, finally succumb to negotiations.
In the battle, our foolish guide decided to flee, running into the dark night with his hands still bound. Thankfully, our prisoners offered to guide us to the end of the forest in the direction we needed to go.
Not late into our trek, the nymphs were alerted to one of their many traps. The cyclops had attempted to take refuge in a large burrow into a tree trunk, finding himself trapped in an illusion of a deep cavern, with no escape. He was more delighted to see us than he was ashamed at being recaptured.
The nymphs led us safely to the end of the forest, guiding us around many of their magical traps. As we broke the tree line into another frozen valley before a large mountain range which ran parallel to the forest., the nymphs turned back into the forest.
As we reached the mountain base, Alyana scouted ahead. She returned with news of two possible paths. The first was guarded by a group of Drow in front of a large tarp. The other was a cave entrance. We decided to follow the cavern, believing it would help us avoid unnecessary conflict with the Drow.
The cyclops led us to a door at the cavern entrance through which we heard the rumbling snore of another elderly cyclops our prisoner called Bouge. Our guide broke away from us, barreling into the room to warn of our arrival, but as he entered the room beyond the door and short hallway, he fell through a well-hidden trap door. None of this seemed to alarm the senile sentry much. After speaking briefly with the squinting old coot, he let us pass, slipping into a deep sleep while babbling quietly to himself.
Talos had to drag me away from a fomorian statue which I was busy trying to topple. It was well beyond why my strength would allow, but I was caught up in my anger at these treacherous monsters. Through the fog of rage, I left the room with my allies, overhearing the cyclops muttering the word "digba". I barely hear him over the sound of my companions shushing my stream of curses. I suspected there were fomorians about this place.
We ascended a flight of stairs into a cleaned carved rectangular room with walls at perfect right angles to the floor and ceiling. On either end of the room sat an active forge. Three iron statues against separate walls stood guard over a flaming pedestal in the center of the room. Within the flames rested a shimmering ring. The allure of this trinket was too much for Alyana to pass up, and as soon as she plucked the ring from the flames with the nimble flick of one of her arrows, one of the statues animated. As it approached Talos, preparing to strike, I felt the urge to repeat the word the old man muttered as we left the cavern entrance. "Digba" sent the statue back to its post where it stood quiet and still once again. We were not taking any chances, however, and heaved the statues into the forges, melting them down to a molten liquid.
Through a short hallway, around a corner, lie an entrance to a dining hall. Alyana scouted this area and returned with news of a fomorian. I do not recall the rest of her report, as the news of a fomorian sent me marching around the corner and into the room, the others scurrying to maintain a defensive position. I tore into the room, faced with three cyclopes, one female and two elderly males, and a lumbering, grotesque fomorian. I lept upon a table, making a point to brandish every piece of Corellon themed jewelry and insignias, and mustered all of my willpower. A radiant ball of flame set the formorian ablaze as I rebuked him and his kind. He rushed at me as my allies tore into the room, blades singing alongside the plucked tune of Alyana's bowstrings and Diogi's threatening growl. The fomorian was able to reach out with his whip and strike me down from the table, leaving me reeling from a blow backed by wicked necrotic energy. Talos was able to hold him for a while, but soon fell under the hypnotic spell of the accursed beast and was incapacitated. It was Elwoz who felled the monster, summoning a hazy spirit from the surrounding stone to assail the fomorian's spirit, leaving the beast a withered, empty shell. The battle quickly turned again the heretic's minions.
There are fewer things in existence I despise more than the fomorian. They declare themselves the best of the Fey races, while allowing lower, less intelligent beings to openly worship them as living gods. So deep is their hatred of Corellon's beauty and magic that they devote their very being to undermining the Divine's influence and creations. It brings me great pleasure to have seen the fall of one of their kind. Elwoz refuses to take credit upon my congradulations, granting the honor upon the spirit he conjured. Though I was only able to detect a deep, smokey haze surround our foe, Elwoz insists it was the spirit of a dire lobster from a time when this land was far beneath a great sea. I believe the forces of nature guide him and bring him great power, but I find his often detailed descriptions to be suspect when his drunken vision barely allows him the ability to lace his boots.
We ascended another flight of stairs into a small chamber on a flat opening to the surface, into which Corath and Alyana ventured. We remained behind, awaiting their signal. Upon the first cries of battle, we stormed out just as Alyana and Corath were engaging a couple of drow and a hideous drider. To think the drider's form is actually considered a blessing from the Spider Queen. Well her and her followers be damned, for the curse of the drow proved to be the lesser against the might and power of the 42nd.
Our battle was not without its challenges, however, and I did not remain conscious for its conclusion. The surface storm was raging once again, and our vision was severely obstructed. The stealthy drow dove in and out of the shadows, striking with weapons laced with dizzying poison. Elwoz was the first to succumb to the venom as a Drow's blade nicked his right side. Getty pushed the drow back from his master, back into the melee of Talos and Corath's blades. In moments, however, Elwoz had dropped to the ground, rendered unconscious from his tainted wound.
I, too, was struck on my forearm as I sloppily parried a blow from a rushing drow who caught me off guard. A blast from my magical rod sent him to his eternal rest. In the midst of the storm, we could make out the towering form of an airship, and I made my way towards it, in hopes of readying an escape if the need arose. As I neared the ship, I saw it was manned by no more than five grimlocks, bustling about the deck. I gathered my remaining strength and summoned a great wind which blew the monsters from the desk, off into the roaring white oblivion. As I ran up the ramp to the deck, I tried to hold on to consciousness, for the sounds of battle behind me had not ended, and I feared for my allies. Unfortunately, the drow's poison was too strong. Darkness overtook me.
I awoke later to the others standing over me, ushering me onto the ship for our departure. After learning that the enemies were neutralized, I felt obliged to christen our new vessel with something from the heart. I retreated briefly back into the mountain tunnels, coming upon the fomorian corpse. Cleaving his head from his shoulders, I returned to the ship and affixed it at the bow. Let all those before us know we are enemies of evil!
As we took inventory of the ship's supplies, we noticed Without was frantic. Sweat rolled off his face in buckets, and we though he had been caught by the drows' poison as well, but he simply pulled his orb from his pack, rolled his eyes back into his head, and collapsed, still clutching his magical relic.
He still breathed, and his heart rate was normal, but he would not respond to our attempts to wake him, so we gently put him to rest in the lower decks, upon a bed in the crew's quarters. His orb was turning a crimson shade of red, and dark, black cracks appeared deep within the sphere. I suspect it is the cause of Without's affliction, though there is nothing we can do but wait and pray.
We have decided to travel to the land of the dwarves, since the trek will not take as long by air, and it will do us good to be amongst allies of the kingdom once again. Perhaps there are skilled clerics who will be able to determine what ails our halfling friend. For now, Diesa stands by his bedside, chanting prayers and incantations to ward off any potential sickness, but there is still no sign of improvement.
Our flight has taken us a significant distance from the mountain, by my estimation. The storm still continues, and it is hard to gauge distances or even see clearly what lies around us. We have momentarily stopped in a clearing to rest for the night. It is a much needed rest, for the battles we faced today have surely taken their toll, and left us with more questions. Why has the Dreknar empire enlisted the aid of Fey monsters and Underdark thugs? What are they planning now?
Again Corellon has blessed us with success in our battles, and fueled my determination against this Dreknar enemy. I had once believed my allegiance with these warriors of the kingdom to be appropriate to combat a general evil threat of the Tear. It has now become personal. The forces of Dreknar ally themselves with the enemies of Corellon himself! Their guilt for the sins again the races of the feywild extend by association. I look forward to the fall of Dreknar, and I shall see it through until the end.
I am to take first watch tonight, Journal. I shall write again tomorrow, no doubt of our continued success against the forces of evil. May His light guide the way and His grace follow us wherever this journey leads.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 17
Dear Journal,
Onward we have marched through the forest, shielded from the wind by the thick ocean of mighty, yet bare, trees. We are able to keep the pace with our guide much easier now, as his large, clumsy form must be more mindful of the tree branches which hang safely way above my head, and the jutting roots of the forest floor which my allies and I must often climb or walk around, while to our cyclops friend, act as snares which trip him up. While his hands are bound, he marches awkwardly, frequently struggling to maintain his balance.
This leisurely pace gives me more time to take in my surroundings. I notice, too, Alyana and Elwoz seem transfixed at times by the beauty of the forest. Even in its frozen and dorment state, Corellon's blessing abound. Alyana, as a seasoned ranger, is right at home in these woods. Elwoz, though living his life in the swamplands, seems to be calmed by the sights and sounds of the forest. His discussions with Getty are less heated and at times no louder than a whisper, much to the appreciation of our cohorts.
The calming song of the bluejay in the morning, and the wise owl's hoots as night falls bring us calm as these are signs the forest is at peace, with no obvious threat. Even so, we must retain a measure of preparation, for as I mentioned yesterday, the Feywild is a place of tricks. A trap may lay for a hundred years before a foolish traveler, consumed by the comfort of the forest, carelessly frolics into its waiting hand.
As if the potential dangers of the Feywild weren't enough to challenge our serenity, Elwoz took it upon himself to lose a few days of his rations on the trail, noticing only this morning as we shared our breakfast. Perhaps it was Getty, or one of the apparent legion of imaginary creatures he claims to be speaking with in his drunken haze. I'm not sure if it is the hangover, the embarrassment, or the lack of further fermentable rations for his incessant consumption of spirits, but he is definately grumpy at his misfortune, blaming his loss on lurking creatures in the forest. I jokingly suggested it might be the unicorn with the eyepatch or even the racist box turtle. What a curious spectacle is the madness of a feral elf!
Speaking of madness, today our halfling friend conveniently leads the march, melting the snow in our path with his untamed magical eminations. It is a rare and pleasing sight to see his involuntary manifestations work to our favor. Coupled with the occasional eruption of flame which sends him diving into the snow and flailing about, he is proving to be most entertaining as well as helpful. I wonder what it would be like to be in control of but a quarter of the power this little creature accidentally wields.
While it is evident the cold is quite bothersome to Talos, he is in much better condition than our travels across the tundra. Even then, he held the same determined stride, gritting his teeth and glaring at our cyclops guide with distrust. I do not recall if the dragonborn are cold-blooded like other reptiles, or if the descendants of dragons have blood like ours. I shall make this note to consult the library of Merkemia when I next pass through. I am not so foolish as to ask a dragonborn if his blood runs cold, lest I am prepared to parry a blow or two from an insulted paladin. Regardless, he has impressively pressed onward despite the bitter cold and encumberance from his layers of heavy, adorned platemail.
Every chance he is given, and there have been plenty on this journey, Talos attempts to catch Diesa up on at least a millenia of political history of the Kingdom, yet Diesa just nods and smiles. I suspect Talos would have to go much further back in history to give Diesa any measure of familiar context. The names and places Talos describes can't possibly have any meaning to the ancient dwarf, but he obviously listens intently to the entertaining tales, appreciating the good intentions. It is only when we touch on the subject of the gods that we three chime in equally, for the tales we share transcend the distances of time and prove to us that the dwarves haven't changed much during their time on this plane. Though Diesa speaks of Moradin with a vigor which causes me to suspect the battle in which he fell took place in a time much closer to the birth of the dwarves than now. The pride towards his god has not been taken for granted with the dull of countless generations. I have met my god and channel his power, yet I still envy Diesa's faith.
Corath, as usual, says very little, and mostly to Talos and Alyana. I understand, though. He is carefree enough around Diesa, Without, and myself to indicate he trusts us completely, but he obviously shares a deep comradary with the two original members of the 42nd. I'm told his friendship with Stovokor runs even deeper. I should like to see them together one day.
The magic here is weak, but noticable. I enjoy every step through this forest, as its link to the Feywild brings me closer to the warmth and beauty Corellon has gifted upon my people. I hope, instead of the dangers I've described, we contact a peaceful people. First, though, we must gain whatever information we can from the cyclops village. According to our friend's tale, it is but the old and the women who remain. I do not expect we shall encounter too much resistance. Perhaps we can convince them to give us information so that we may be on our way. We shall see.
It's time to rest now. We have all sat up a while as we tended to our own affairs, such as Corath and Talos sharpening their blades, Alyana sorting her pack, and Diesa saying his prayers. I shall say mine now, too, dear Journal. May Corellon watch over us in this land through which his magic peeks through. Tomorrow, says the cyclops, we shall reach our destination.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Diary of Gallanor Orren: Entry 16
Dear Journal,
I should have known that with the cyclopes and the owlbear, the Feywild wasn't to be too far away. Though the onset of winter has thinned the canopy, the forest is thick enough to guard our campsite against the harsh winds. This is a phenomenon I have witnessed on several occasions. There exists a rift between the planes nearby, and it causes ripples in the surrounding areas. The remaining foliage on the trees exists in the Feywild, and appears here a ghostly haze.
Though I am overwhelmed with joy at even the slightest taste of my magical home, I must remain alert. The others know little of the dangers of the Feywild. We may likely face malicious illusions, treacherous beasts, or territorial forest folk, such as the terrifying and unforgiving wood woads. I pray we do not encounter those tormented souls.
Luckily, we moved safely and somewhat comfortably to our campsite. This gave us yet another opportunity to commune once again. Captivated by the last story told by Alyana and Talos at my questioning, the curious little Without pressed again to continue the story of the 42nd's adventures in Northwarden. I must admit I, too, was quite entranced at their tale as well.
Apparently after pledging their escort to Corath, the party stocked up on supplies and attempted to continue their journey to Merkemia. However, the guards at the city gates stopped them and refused to let them leave by order of Baron Ironshoe, the head of Northwarden's forces and appointed leader.
Consumed by frustration and confusion, the party elected to confront the Baron in his mansion. Leading the way, Stovokor and Talos stormed into the mansion only to be confronted and attacked by hooded dwarven assassin and a few thugs. The 42nd quickly gained the upper hand, and beat back their assailants. Faced with certain defeat, the dwarf assassin fled the scene, catching a deftly fired arrow in his right eye.
Left with more questions than answers, the party set off to force their way out of the city if needed. However, a lone guard intercepted the party, bringing an urgent request from Sarah Saraling to meet on very important matters.
After finding the halfling's hideout, they were told of Sarah's position. In these uncertain times, the king assigns informants to critical locations within the kingdom to maintain a watchful eye. After the last informant of Northwarden was found murdered, the king sent Sarah as a replacement. Her own network of informants brought information suggesting the Baron suddenly cut himself off from his people and advisors, and acting erratically when seen. After a few of her men went missing, she asked the 42nd to find out what secrets the Baron was keeping. She intructed the party to meet with a contact in the city's lower residential section. They were given the option to take a path through the sewer which would keep them hidden to the city guards, or attempt to walk the streets which was teeming with prying eyes.
Taking their chances on the surface, the 42nd marched carelessly through the city when they were finally stopped by a lone guard who demanded they identify themselves. As Stovokor paused to devise an elaborate lie, the proud Talos annouced they were the 42nd and commanded the guard to keep out of their way. He obliged.
It was a few moments later that the party realized their folly. In what was truly their most impressive battle, and one that I heard townspeople speak of long before I met the adventurer's, the 42nd was charged by a squad of the Baron's men. Under the brilliant tactical guidance of their leader, Stovokor, the members of the 42nd placed themselves in formidable strategic positions. Alyana's arrows rained down from a nearby rooftop and Vaarin disappeared into the darkness of the alleyways as the others bottlenecked the soldiers in an abandonded building where they defied the odds and cut them down.
Sensing Without's childlike wonderment and complete immersion at the tale, Talos and Alyana allowed the suspense to linger as they elected to finish their story another day.
I do enjoy hearing these tales. I thank His Grace that these heroes have allowed me to join their ranks and follow them into battle. It has been a rewarding path on which the divine has guided me. Even Corath, who says very little, seems to enjoy reminiscing about their adventures. It wouldn't take an elven eye to notice the sparkle in his eyes when they spoke of glorious battle.
For now, dear Journal, I must rest. Though under less duress in the shielding protection of the thick, bare trunks in the forest, we are still keeping a grueling pace while trying to keep up with out goliath guide's long stride. Hidden in the blizzard of the tundra was the mountain we now clearly see beyond the forest. It is here the cyclops tells us his people have made camp.
What we are to do when we reach the cyclopes' den, I know not. I can only pray Corellon's guiding hand keeps these misguided creatures at bay while we attempt to find passage back to the kingdom of Merkemia.
Good night, Journal. May the magic of the Feywild guide my prayers and keep us safe in our coming trials.
I should have known that with the cyclopes and the owlbear, the Feywild wasn't to be too far away. Though the onset of winter has thinned the canopy, the forest is thick enough to guard our campsite against the harsh winds. This is a phenomenon I have witnessed on several occasions. There exists a rift between the planes nearby, and it causes ripples in the surrounding areas. The remaining foliage on the trees exists in the Feywild, and appears here a ghostly haze.
Though I am overwhelmed with joy at even the slightest taste of my magical home, I must remain alert. The others know little of the dangers of the Feywild. We may likely face malicious illusions, treacherous beasts, or territorial forest folk, such as the terrifying and unforgiving wood woads. I pray we do not encounter those tormented souls.
Luckily, we moved safely and somewhat comfortably to our campsite. This gave us yet another opportunity to commune once again. Captivated by the last story told by Alyana and Talos at my questioning, the curious little Without pressed again to continue the story of the 42nd's adventures in Northwarden. I must admit I, too, was quite entranced at their tale as well.
Apparently after pledging their escort to Corath, the party stocked up on supplies and attempted to continue their journey to Merkemia. However, the guards at the city gates stopped them and refused to let them leave by order of Baron Ironshoe, the head of Northwarden's forces and appointed leader.
Consumed by frustration and confusion, the party elected to confront the Baron in his mansion. Leading the way, Stovokor and Talos stormed into the mansion only to be confronted and attacked by hooded dwarven assassin and a few thugs. The 42nd quickly gained the upper hand, and beat back their assailants. Faced with certain defeat, the dwarf assassin fled the scene, catching a deftly fired arrow in his right eye.
Left with more questions than answers, the party set off to force their way out of the city if needed. However, a lone guard intercepted the party, bringing an urgent request from Sarah Saraling to meet on very important matters.
After finding the halfling's hideout, they were told of Sarah's position. In these uncertain times, the king assigns informants to critical locations within the kingdom to maintain a watchful eye. After the last informant of Northwarden was found murdered, the king sent Sarah as a replacement. Her own network of informants brought information suggesting the Baron suddenly cut himself off from his people and advisors, and acting erratically when seen. After a few of her men went missing, she asked the 42nd to find out what secrets the Baron was keeping. She intructed the party to meet with a contact in the city's lower residential section. They were given the option to take a path through the sewer which would keep them hidden to the city guards, or attempt to walk the streets which was teeming with prying eyes.
Taking their chances on the surface, the 42nd marched carelessly through the city when they were finally stopped by a lone guard who demanded they identify themselves. As Stovokor paused to devise an elaborate lie, the proud Talos annouced they were the 42nd and commanded the guard to keep out of their way. He obliged.
It was a few moments later that the party realized their folly. In what was truly their most impressive battle, and one that I heard townspeople speak of long before I met the adventurer's, the 42nd was charged by a squad of the Baron's men. Under the brilliant tactical guidance of their leader, Stovokor, the members of the 42nd placed themselves in formidable strategic positions. Alyana's arrows rained down from a nearby rooftop and Vaarin disappeared into the darkness of the alleyways as the others bottlenecked the soldiers in an abandonded building where they defied the odds and cut them down.
Sensing Without's childlike wonderment and complete immersion at the tale, Talos and Alyana allowed the suspense to linger as they elected to finish their story another day.
I do enjoy hearing these tales. I thank His Grace that these heroes have allowed me to join their ranks and follow them into battle. It has been a rewarding path on which the divine has guided me. Even Corath, who says very little, seems to enjoy reminiscing about their adventures. It wouldn't take an elven eye to notice the sparkle in his eyes when they spoke of glorious battle.
For now, dear Journal, I must rest. Though under less duress in the shielding protection of the thick, bare trunks in the forest, we are still keeping a grueling pace while trying to keep up with out goliath guide's long stride. Hidden in the blizzard of the tundra was the mountain we now clearly see beyond the forest. It is here the cyclops tells us his people have made camp.
What we are to do when we reach the cyclopes' den, I know not. I can only pray Corellon's guiding hand keeps these misguided creatures at bay while we attempt to find passage back to the kingdom of Merkemia.
Good night, Journal. May the magic of the Feywild guide my prayers and keep us safe in our coming trials.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)