Broccli_Head
Explorer
Khirin's edge....
From the archives of the Abbey of the Blinding Truth: (received 20 Ches, 1373 by courier)
(DM note: this letter reflects and comments on the events from 10 Ches to 16 Ches, 1373, Year of Rogue Dragons)
Irieabor
17 Ches, 1373, Year of Rogue Dragons
Dear Cousin,
As executor of your will, I am writing to relate to you the actions surrounding your heirs in the tenday since you “departed”. While all evidence points that you are dead, I know that we al-D’hib have an uncanny knack for survival. Plus, the Holy Justice has told us that his god says that you yet live. The Tyrites are trustworthy if a bit dogmatic in their pursuit of the law and what is good, so I send the letter logically to where you told me to present myself and our mind-reader to the group. Your body, whether living or dead, should show up there as the priest of Tyr seem to be examiners of the dead in Westgate as well as judges, and sometime annoying proselytizers. Thank Waukeen for giving her worshippers the spirit of independence!
I write to you from the High House in Irieabor-on-the-Chionthar. At last! I do prefer the walls and cobbled streets of a good-sized city to roughing it in the wilderness. How you enjoy adventuring, cousin, I will never understand. In my opinion, we should have come here from the beginning and saved us a lot of trouble. I struggle with wanting to remind the priest of my superior knowledge of geography and urban centers in Faerun. He and I have had our differences and I have had to be meek for your sake, cousin. You owe me. That buffoon struck me not a day out from Westgate leaving that symbol of arrogance* on my cheek. Fortunately, the blessings of Waukeen removed the brand. By the way, his pursuit of his cause led to the untimely demise of Souleiss. Thanks to your spy from the Emerald Enclave he is now a wolverine. I almost perished as well. My fee should be quadrupled!
This was on the ridge overlooking a foul-smelling, fog-shrouded valley that had once held a temple consecrated to the Storm Lord, Talos. This priestess of Ilmater, you know, god of victimization, had given us this sob story about the soul of a paladin trapped by a demon. This demon resided in this valley. I thought, but was loathe to give my opinion—no one asked anyway—if you are so powerful that you can divine this matter, why don’t you go and get her yourself. Do you know what else? They paraded the corpse of this paladin through the streets of this one-horse town where we had traveled. I don’t even remember the name. So upon this ridge I was knocked to the edge of death by a spiny devil dog. I think they reside naturally on the planes of Hades or Tartareus and go by the colloquial name of howlers. We were attacked by a pack. Your heirs prevailed. For that I am grateful as I fell within the span of few heartbeats. When I came to, the priest wanted to continue into the valley. The flower-girl had changed Souleiss into a wolverine and I had to console the confused lad. He won’t be finding any other talking wolverines anytime soon. So much for a family. I myself made it clear to the druidess—Meliane is her name by the way—that if I die, don’t change me into some furry forest creature. I prefer my aquiline features showing the strong lines of our heritage from Calimshan.
Thus, we entered the valley. Much of the vegetation was carnivorous. One would think that the valley had been dedicated to ancient Moander, not the God of Storms. As a side, I might have to do some reseach on the history of this un-named valley.
Sorry. I will continue with the account. The wild elf, Ellysidell had a hard time of it. He was almost choked by killer vines and engulfed by a mound of shambling vegetation. The priest and the druid have a lot of firepower. Their flamestrikes saved the day many a time as we explored the valley and discovered the ruins of the destroyed Temple of Talos. Apparently, the valley was also overseen by an old woman. Meliane did not like her, although she was a fellow druid. For some strange reason the usually paranoid holy justice did not see her as a threat. Grim, who trusts no one, remained true to form. Souleiss discovered that plants do not have minds as he knows them, accidentally blasted Grim silly, and took a dive on a patch of green slime. I was amused by their antics cousin, and generally hung back firing my crossbow from a safe distance. I re-emphasize that I am a merchant, not a warrior. Curiously, the usually taciturn elf complained. He felt that the whole journey was a wild goose-chase. Again, however, we were following the Tyr-man's divinations. We continued among the ruins and found a way down. Here we were confronted by will-o-wisps. Despite my complaints about their lack of judgment and planning, when it comes to a fight, your men are efficient. No less than four of the evil balls of light were destroyed. Grim took the biggest hit in that skirmish and that from the druid who reigned down divine fire when four ‘wisps surrounded the halfling. He lived.
I lent my healing when it was needed. The Tyrite did most of it, recording a tally of his help like most of his kind do. As the rest of the group went to explore the basement of the former evil temple, I remained at the entrance. Good thing. They fought mummies and other undead and were almost all fried by a lightning ward, I think, left by the former denizens. I heard that the druidess almost died. They did find two very interesting items, however. It may still be a lucrative dungeon delve. Tomorrow I take bids on two, person-driven mechanical constructs. One is made to look like a beholder! Instead of eyestalks, it can hold interchangeable wands. The other is a digging machine built to look like a metal umber hulk. I shudder to think what happened to the gnomes who created these fantastic machines at the bidding of Stormlords. Fortunately, we survived the evening. Two assaults came at us from beyond this plane. First a quartet of bearded devils attacked us. There was a brief scare as one conjured an illusion of a huge fiend with horns and bat-like wings immolated in its own fire. We saw through it and took out the rest of the evil creatures. The priest proved his worth again as he and the wild elf took the brunt of the attacks and dealt out the most damage. Souliess had disappeared during the battle and returned with a devil that he had dominated. We did not gain much information from it before Mr. Holy destroyed it. Meliane had been fighting with a shadowy goblin during the same conflict. It too had disappeared.
We did not rest easy. The second attack came in the form of two huge mounds of dirt and rock. While they also fell to our staunch defense, by morning we were haggard and depleted of our healing. Even the priest wanted to rush from the valley. We had been led astray and the priestess of Ilmater had been misinformed. What powers do we fight here?
Another fiend greeted us at the entrance to the basement. Wisely, we did not fight this barghest. Instead, we convinced it to return to the Nine Hells. Obviously, the old woman druid was also in league with our adversary. Probably that same demon who has the soul of the paladin. She attempted to ambush us as we crossed a slime-ladden stream. Her allies were a gargantuan centipede, some oozes that secreted acid and which we mistook for elementals of water, and her own spells and control of things slimy*. The priest, Grim and Meliane finally tracked her down after a running battle, while the rest of us held the line against her minions. Amidst the holy justices protests, Grim and Meliane, in her favored great bear form, destroyed the evil druid. She turned out to be a hag. A green one.
Finally, we left the valley and decided to head to Irieabor, like I had suggested before we got involved in this quest. A ghost, the squire of the paladin, gave us useful information. Sometimes I feel that our course is pre-scripted. Ellysidell had been correct. His gut had told us that this had been a false lead. The soul of the paladin was beneath the town in ancient catacombs. The group listened to reason at last. We needed to get to the big city and replenish our now meager healing supplies. It took us four days. During the march, we slew two young red dragons. They nearly killed Meliane and took a toll on Ellysidell. I reminded the group before they reveled in too much triumph that the dragons were young. Fortunately, their mother was not around. Lord Bron was concerned when we told him about the dragon attack. Apparently, this has been the third in the last month and not just by reds. If I recall correctly, the last Flight of Dragons was in 1356DR. What Alaundo the Seer titled this year makes me wary.
Well, cousin, we are here now. I was able to secure us rooms at the keep and now I can concentrate on selling these mechas. I do not know if I will continue with your group, but I know that Souleiss will. My original thought was to gain the support and infrastructure of the temple of Waukeen here in Irieabor, but to my chagrin it has been abandoned since shortly after the Time of Troubles. It is reported to be haunted. Could I live here in the City of a Thousand Spires? It is a bit rustic and nowhere near as cosmopolitan as Zassespur or Athkalta or even Baldur’s Gate. Yet perhaps the goddess has a new plan for me.
If you live, please send a message of return care of Lord Bron of Irieabor.
Sincerely,
Khirin al’Dhib
*Khirin’s name for the scales and hammer symbol of Tyr
*the druidess was a greenhag with some levels of druid and the oozemaster prestige class from Masters of the Wild
From the archives of the Abbey of the Blinding Truth: (received 20 Ches, 1373 by courier)
(DM note: this letter reflects and comments on the events from 10 Ches to 16 Ches, 1373, Year of Rogue Dragons)
Irieabor
17 Ches, 1373, Year of Rogue Dragons
Dear Cousin,
As executor of your will, I am writing to relate to you the actions surrounding your heirs in the tenday since you “departed”. While all evidence points that you are dead, I know that we al-D’hib have an uncanny knack for survival. Plus, the Holy Justice has told us that his god says that you yet live. The Tyrites are trustworthy if a bit dogmatic in their pursuit of the law and what is good, so I send the letter logically to where you told me to present myself and our mind-reader to the group. Your body, whether living or dead, should show up there as the priest of Tyr seem to be examiners of the dead in Westgate as well as judges, and sometime annoying proselytizers. Thank Waukeen for giving her worshippers the spirit of independence!
I write to you from the High House in Irieabor-on-the-Chionthar. At last! I do prefer the walls and cobbled streets of a good-sized city to roughing it in the wilderness. How you enjoy adventuring, cousin, I will never understand. In my opinion, we should have come here from the beginning and saved us a lot of trouble. I struggle with wanting to remind the priest of my superior knowledge of geography and urban centers in Faerun. He and I have had our differences and I have had to be meek for your sake, cousin. You owe me. That buffoon struck me not a day out from Westgate leaving that symbol of arrogance* on my cheek. Fortunately, the blessings of Waukeen removed the brand. By the way, his pursuit of his cause led to the untimely demise of Souleiss. Thanks to your spy from the Emerald Enclave he is now a wolverine. I almost perished as well. My fee should be quadrupled!
This was on the ridge overlooking a foul-smelling, fog-shrouded valley that had once held a temple consecrated to the Storm Lord, Talos. This priestess of Ilmater, you know, god of victimization, had given us this sob story about the soul of a paladin trapped by a demon. This demon resided in this valley. I thought, but was loathe to give my opinion—no one asked anyway—if you are so powerful that you can divine this matter, why don’t you go and get her yourself. Do you know what else? They paraded the corpse of this paladin through the streets of this one-horse town where we had traveled. I don’t even remember the name. So upon this ridge I was knocked to the edge of death by a spiny devil dog. I think they reside naturally on the planes of Hades or Tartareus and go by the colloquial name of howlers. We were attacked by a pack. Your heirs prevailed. For that I am grateful as I fell within the span of few heartbeats. When I came to, the priest wanted to continue into the valley. The flower-girl had changed Souleiss into a wolverine and I had to console the confused lad. He won’t be finding any other talking wolverines anytime soon. So much for a family. I myself made it clear to the druidess—Meliane is her name by the way—that if I die, don’t change me into some furry forest creature. I prefer my aquiline features showing the strong lines of our heritage from Calimshan.
Thus, we entered the valley. Much of the vegetation was carnivorous. One would think that the valley had been dedicated to ancient Moander, not the God of Storms. As a side, I might have to do some reseach on the history of this un-named valley.
Sorry. I will continue with the account. The wild elf, Ellysidell had a hard time of it. He was almost choked by killer vines and engulfed by a mound of shambling vegetation. The priest and the druid have a lot of firepower. Their flamestrikes saved the day many a time as we explored the valley and discovered the ruins of the destroyed Temple of Talos. Apparently, the valley was also overseen by an old woman. Meliane did not like her, although she was a fellow druid. For some strange reason the usually paranoid holy justice did not see her as a threat. Grim, who trusts no one, remained true to form. Souleiss discovered that plants do not have minds as he knows them, accidentally blasted Grim silly, and took a dive on a patch of green slime. I was amused by their antics cousin, and generally hung back firing my crossbow from a safe distance. I re-emphasize that I am a merchant, not a warrior. Curiously, the usually taciturn elf complained. He felt that the whole journey was a wild goose-chase. Again, however, we were following the Tyr-man's divinations. We continued among the ruins and found a way down. Here we were confronted by will-o-wisps. Despite my complaints about their lack of judgment and planning, when it comes to a fight, your men are efficient. No less than four of the evil balls of light were destroyed. Grim took the biggest hit in that skirmish and that from the druid who reigned down divine fire when four ‘wisps surrounded the halfling. He lived.
I lent my healing when it was needed. The Tyrite did most of it, recording a tally of his help like most of his kind do. As the rest of the group went to explore the basement of the former evil temple, I remained at the entrance. Good thing. They fought mummies and other undead and were almost all fried by a lightning ward, I think, left by the former denizens. I heard that the druidess almost died. They did find two very interesting items, however. It may still be a lucrative dungeon delve. Tomorrow I take bids on two, person-driven mechanical constructs. One is made to look like a beholder! Instead of eyestalks, it can hold interchangeable wands. The other is a digging machine built to look like a metal umber hulk. I shudder to think what happened to the gnomes who created these fantastic machines at the bidding of Stormlords. Fortunately, we survived the evening. Two assaults came at us from beyond this plane. First a quartet of bearded devils attacked us. There was a brief scare as one conjured an illusion of a huge fiend with horns and bat-like wings immolated in its own fire. We saw through it and took out the rest of the evil creatures. The priest proved his worth again as he and the wild elf took the brunt of the attacks and dealt out the most damage. Souliess had disappeared during the battle and returned with a devil that he had dominated. We did not gain much information from it before Mr. Holy destroyed it. Meliane had been fighting with a shadowy goblin during the same conflict. It too had disappeared.
We did not rest easy. The second attack came in the form of two huge mounds of dirt and rock. While they also fell to our staunch defense, by morning we were haggard and depleted of our healing. Even the priest wanted to rush from the valley. We had been led astray and the priestess of Ilmater had been misinformed. What powers do we fight here?
Another fiend greeted us at the entrance to the basement. Wisely, we did not fight this barghest. Instead, we convinced it to return to the Nine Hells. Obviously, the old woman druid was also in league with our adversary. Probably that same demon who has the soul of the paladin. She attempted to ambush us as we crossed a slime-ladden stream. Her allies were a gargantuan centipede, some oozes that secreted acid and which we mistook for elementals of water, and her own spells and control of things slimy*. The priest, Grim and Meliane finally tracked her down after a running battle, while the rest of us held the line against her minions. Amidst the holy justices protests, Grim and Meliane, in her favored great bear form, destroyed the evil druid. She turned out to be a hag. A green one.
Finally, we left the valley and decided to head to Irieabor, like I had suggested before we got involved in this quest. A ghost, the squire of the paladin, gave us useful information. Sometimes I feel that our course is pre-scripted. Ellysidell had been correct. His gut had told us that this had been a false lead. The soul of the paladin was beneath the town in ancient catacombs. The group listened to reason at last. We needed to get to the big city and replenish our now meager healing supplies. It took us four days. During the march, we slew two young red dragons. They nearly killed Meliane and took a toll on Ellysidell. I reminded the group before they reveled in too much triumph that the dragons were young. Fortunately, their mother was not around. Lord Bron was concerned when we told him about the dragon attack. Apparently, this has been the third in the last month and not just by reds. If I recall correctly, the last Flight of Dragons was in 1356DR. What Alaundo the Seer titled this year makes me wary.
Well, cousin, we are here now. I was able to secure us rooms at the keep and now I can concentrate on selling these mechas. I do not know if I will continue with your group, but I know that Souleiss will. My original thought was to gain the support and infrastructure of the temple of Waukeen here in Irieabor, but to my chagrin it has been abandoned since shortly after the Time of Troubles. It is reported to be haunted. Could I live here in the City of a Thousand Spires? It is a bit rustic and nowhere near as cosmopolitan as Zassespur or Athkalta or even Baldur’s Gate. Yet perhaps the goddess has a new plan for me.
If you live, please send a message of return care of Lord Bron of Irieabor.
Sincerely,
Khirin al’Dhib
*Khirin’s name for the scales and hammer symbol of Tyr
*the druidess was a greenhag with some levels of druid and the oozemaster prestige class from Masters of the Wild
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I really like the last post, the letter from Khirin to Aris is very cool. Anyways Khirin is right bout somethin, it is as if our path is predestined, heh. And the divine advice of a God... apparently should always be taken with a grain of salt. Benito begins to feel as if this is all some divine test from Tyr to see if he bears the fatal flaws of his father. After Twilight Hollow Benito has his eyes on Mourn, which he will scy to determine the location of (just realized I had scry, lol). After that... a brief respite to the chondal wood, then Westgate... there is to much unfinished business there to leave it be (Aris, Dorthan, Baboo, Variak and let us not forget the villanous Nightmasks).
