Dear Journal,
Another gorgeous day has greeted us on our journey. Corath tells us with certainty that come the next dawn, we shall be setting foot on the cold stone of Merkemia's streets. With such little time left, I shall go ahead and finish the tale of our time in Moraldrum.
As we made our descent onto Moraldrum's western tower, a great, adorned pyre sat atop the other tower, for it appeared that the noble King Thonin finally succumb to the concentrated poison which coursed through his veins for so long. It is unfortunate that the king did not live to see his people rise up in victory against the Dreknar forces, yet I know in my heart that his spirit remained until the last Dreknar soldier fell or fled in fear. I dare not question the wisdom of the hour Moradin chose to take his child home. Instead, I rejoice at the thought that amongst the halls of Moradin, Thonin is proudly boasting the triumph of his kin.
The mountain pass was dotted with the bustling of tiny figures rushing about the blood-soaked soil, tossing upon bonfires any debris found as well as the corpses of fallen enemy soldiers. Stovokor's men were put to use rounding up groups of prisoners and standing guard as the dwarves built up a makeshift prison camp around them.
Grumsh met us atop the tower as our twin vessels came to a stop, and we exchanged details of our separate efforts. Cheers rippled through the mountainside as the closest dwarves heard of Dreknar's demise, and passed it on to others who, in turn, passed it on further. Soon the mountains rang out in dwarven song, for in one battle, the dwarves had aided in the complete destruction of an evil empire. Moraldrum was now safe.
Through the good news, Grumsh still had immediate concerns of unruly prisoners, injured soldiers, and damage to the structure of this great fortress. We were quick to offer our services, but Gromsh was even quicker in giving us our cleanup orders, to which we were each ushered away to immediately. Elwoz, Diesa, and I found ourselves back in the infirmary, tending to the casualties of battle alongside a dozen or so clerics from both Moraldrum and Northwarden. The pace was initially frantic as we tried to save the most severely wounded before they could slip away, but eventually settled into a more relaxed routine once critical wounds were treated and the magical afflictions of others were identified and the effects in the process of reversal.
And so the day pressed on and, little by little, the wounded were mended or stabilized, though a few poor souls drifted into eternal slumber. As the number needing urgent or constant care dwindled, a number of clerics trickled out of the infirmary to see if there were any prisoners who needed care.
We then spread out - Elwoz, Diesa, and I - crossing paths with each other and the rest of the 42nd from time to time as we scurried in and out of the complex, helping where needed. I worked outside for a bit, which consisted mostly of scavenging anything of value from the dead, which were quite numerous, indeed! Piles sat in designated areas where say dwarves hard at work sorting the salvaged loot into separate carts to be hauled off to the armory, blacksmith, or treasury. I was able to gather a few paltry sacks of coin on my short search over the remains of a thick orc horde, which I took to drop off with the sorters. As I slung the pouches into the nearest sorting pile, I noticed a pair of gloves and bracers which not only complimented my attire, but emitted a magical energy indicating some unknown enchantment. I couldn't resist. Though the dwarves did not dispute my claim to these spoils, I felt compelled to leave behind a generous donation of coin in exchange.
As the sun began to set in the winter sky, I followed a herd of dwarves that was making its way back inside for the night. They led me down the torch-lit corridors of Moraldrum's under-city to a great meeting hall. The ornate wooden doors, each blazon with the standard of the dwarven city. Soldiers - dwarven, human, and elf alike - spilled out from the opened doors, some arguing, some laughing, and some singing. I gazed over the sea of mostly chest-high dwarves to see a boisterous gathering near the rear wall where gathered a crowd of soldiers around the 42nd and Baron Stovokor. I made my way across the room, getting nearly soaked from the sloshing beverages being passed and slung around the room. As I sat down at a table at the edge of the crowd around my friends, several dwarves were quick to set down several steins of mead before me. I was certain this was to be a long night.
Despite having one arm in a sling and his bare chest wrapped in bandages, the Baron Stovokor stood tall and proud as he commanded the attention of all around him as he boasted of the exciting and dangerous accomplishments of the 42nd. Standing at a height comparable to that of your average size human, Stovokor was quite short for his race, though you would never know from the stories told by those closest to him. They all seemed at ease as the charismatic baron called on them to chime in on the story he was telling. Even Corath accepted the spotlight at times, adding details or recalling names when prompted. I was able to quickly scribble down some of the tales told by the orators upon some loose paper I had in my pack. Perhaps I will share them here when I find the time. Mug after mug of the dwarven brew was passed around as the crowd cheered and slung back their mugs at every mention of the dwarven hero Terrion. Elwoz, holding a mug in each hand, seemed to cheer the loudest as he tilted back as much, if not more, than the dwarves he joined in this drinking game.
The stories became more unbelievable as the night wore on, eventually becoming muddled and distorted, losing cohesion with every foaming mug. The halls were still loud, but lacked the deafening roar it had earlier in the evening as many who joined in the festivities had fallen to the sleep brought on by excessive consumption. It was about this point in the evening when Talos finally noticed I had joined the crowd and was listening to the now slurring baron recount one of their many adventures. He gently pushed Stovokor in my direction, announcing my presence. The baron stumbled over as I rose from my seat. He clumsily extended his unsteady hand only inches from my face. Before I could accept his greeting, the baron's arm fell to his side and he emitted a thunderous belch, surely curling the hairs on my brow. With a drunken smirk, he closed his eyes and fell upon my table, splintering the base as he landed, snoring loudly. All those within sight burst into a celebratory roar as they tilted back their mugs. I looked to Talos, who had been joined by Alyana and Corath, and they only offered a smile and a shrug.
Alyana explained later that Stovokor often went out of his way to observe the customs of each place he visited. The dwarven game of drink was no exception. Surely his participation in what amounts to a holy ritual to the dwarves and his sacrifice upon the battlefield has secured him a great position of honor amongst the dwarves of Moraldrum for many generations.
It was the end of the evening for us, it seemed, for even Elwoz had appeared to have had enough of the drink. The now belligerent elf was leaning on a table, pointing his finger and cursing at one of many support beams of the hall, accusing it of stealing his socks. I elected to take my leave as Talos and Without moved to escort Elwoz from the room as he threatened the wrath of the dire chinchilla and volcano pig upon a reflection of himself in a decorative mirror upon the wall.
The next morning, we were treated to a hearty breakfast in the same meeting hall which, by the work of whoever cleaned during the night, was completely devoid of any hint of the previous night's festivities.
Bahamut again came before Talos in his dreams, stressing the need to destroy the Tear of Ioun. He also presented the paladin with visions of a corrupted citadel, ordering Talos to cleanse the taint brought on by a fallen high priest by the name of Eranthan, who has turned his loyalties to Orcus.
Elwoz, too, spoke of a visitation in the night. A "fel moose", he claims, spoke on behalf of the world serpent, also ordering the destruction of the tear, but also warning of a great disturbance looming in the future, and the need to seek out some sort of spider. He spoke quickly and excitedly, but we gathered that he wishes to destroy the tear with renewed fervor.
Shortly after breakfast, we were summoned to the top of the eastern tower where we stood before a packed crowd of dwarven soldiers along with Stovokor and a few dwarven priests as Gromsh conducted a celebratory ceremony in honor of our band and Stovokor's men. He gave thanks for the defense of Moraldrum, noting that we also defended the kingdom of Merkemia by extension. Gromsh then uttered a few prayers to Moradin before inviting Stovokor to speak before the crowd.
In a stirring speech, Stovokor acknowledged the bravery and competence of the dwarven force and the 42nd, noting that without us, Dreknar would have a defensilbe invasion point into Northwarden. He went on to say that though he didn't have the power to do so himself, he would petition the king for a formal declaration of allegiance with Moraldrum, as they have been hospitable hosts and worthy allies on the battlefield.
Gromsh again came forward as Stovokor moved back to stand with us, leaving the crowd cheering. The commander beckoned for Diesa to join him as a servant approached with an ornate chest. Gromsh declared that it was the living relatives of Thonin who were first heir to the throne of Moraldrum, and so it was only fit to offer the title to the dwarf who had travelled great distances through space and time to defend his kin. He opened the chest and took from it the simple golden crown, and placed it upon the young cleric's head, effectively crowning him the king of Moraldrum. Diesa agreed to lead the dwarves, but only once he returned to Moraldrum, for trouble threatened not just this land, but all of Icaria, and he wished to stay with the 42nd and face this threat head on. In the meantime, Diesa ordered, Gromsh was to lead as his steward.
As a token of appreciation, we were issued each one astral diamond from the dwarven coffers, which Talos and I could not accept in good conscience. For their fortress was severely battered and their supplies low, and they could use the funds more than we. Talos, always going above and beyond to express the limits of his piety, donated the remainder of his coin to the dwarves.
We exited the fortress, led by Gromsh in a march out of the twisted, crumpled gates of Moraldrum. Here we said our goodbyes to Stovokor who, to no one's surprise, needed to be introduced to me once again. He then gathered his awaiting men and began his long march back to Northwarden.
We asked Gromsh to take us to the prisoners in hopes of finding some amongst them who might have valuable information. He knew just the one.
Through small gated areas, we saw the angry faces of many races and monsters who were too unfortunate to escape the battlefield when the tides turned against them. Onward we walked until we came to a gate through which we saw Lim Shargoth standing amongst her soldiers, most with only minor wounds. The dwarves let us inside small fenced in area as all eyes of those within turned their sights on us. Lim Shargoth came forward and bowed respectfully, keeping her eyes upon Corath who immediately told her of Dreknar's demise. Alyana produced the horn she retrieved from her father and proclaimed that she was the daughter of Shirou, and the rightful leader of the northern lands. Lim Shargoth and her soldiers fell to one knee and pledged their loyalty immediately.
Corath convinced us that her allegiance was true, and asked us to allow him to return to the former Dreknar empire to unite the now-scattered tribes amongst the lands once led by Denmok, along with Lim Shargoth, her troops, and any other soldiers which pledged their loyalty to the new empire. Knowing the which lay before Corath, Alyana agreed, knowing that this sign of mercy would go a long way in convincing the scattered peoples to unite under her banner.
Thus Corath and Lim Shargoth gathered their people and embarked on Dreknar's flying ship, leaving us with two new crew members to join us alongside Lynn, Brim, and Brolani; a young tiefling male named Eldrin, and a very familiar face. Verily, for the beautiful young elf Mia Longbow was the very same elf which spat at me in Lim Shargoth's camp.
With our new crewmen, we joined Lynn, Brim, and Brolani aboard our ship and set out for Merkemia as we waved to the crowd of dwarves which gathered at our departure.
Over the past several weeks, we have grown to miss Corath's presence among us, yet we have come to settle into a comfortable relationship with our crewmen, especially the lovely Mia Longbow, who turns out to be a devout follower of Sehanine who, according to legend, shares quite the history with Corellon. It was made known that rumors of the questionable alliances with primordials, denizens of the underdark, and monsters of the northland were dismissed by many in the Dreknar empire as lies conconted by Merkemia to discredit the empire. It wasn't until the battle itself, Eldrin said, that she realized she should have listened to the tales, and deeply regret taking part in such a travesty. She apologized, too, for her behaviour in Lim Shargoth's camp, for she felt Lynn, Brim, and Brolani traitors to Dreknar and our arrival nothing more than a test of their loyalty, which she attempted to defend from us with curses and sneers.
The young elf has many, many years left to live, and will come to forgive herself and her countrymen for their lapse in judgement, for I have made great strides myself in the short time I have known the 42nd, and I know I have grown for the better. It is for this reason that I must show her and Eldrin patience and forgiveness. I have taken considerable time speaking with the young elf on matters of the gods and sharing stories of the Feywild. We have all learned a lot in these few weeks.
Well, Journal, I have a long day ahead of me, as I have elected to tend to the ship as much as possible to grant our friends much deserved rest. Next we speak, I shall be in Merkemia. For it is there we shall uncover the mystery of how to destroy the Tear of Ioun and gather clues to the warnings we continue to hear of approaching dangers. May Corellon shine his blessings upon this crew, and may he touch the hearts of our troubled Dreknar friends and bring them together under the banner of Alyana's family.
