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Heroes of the Sundered Realms of Midgard
- Thread starter Balrog
- Start date
Prologue
Gondril's Treatise on Dragons(1)
Dragons, often called Wyrms, or rarely Serpents, are believed to have been spawned by Loki, the ancient God of Strife, Mischief, and Fire. It is said that in previous ages Loki was at one time counted as an ally to the All-Father Odin. His role in the Aesir was that of a trickster and problem-solver, and an agent for change and growth.
Restless and easily bored, Loki would often amuse himself by playing practical jokes on the other Gods. He also spent much time with the Giants, the enemies of the Aesir, learning and gaining new insights and perspectives. His union with the giantess Angrboda produced three offspring: Fenrir the Wolf, Jormungandr the World Serpent, and Hela, Goddess of the Underworld.
According to legends still told among Giants even now, Fenrir was born first from the monstrous Angrboda. His first howl was said to have reached Valhalla and shaken the Hall of Heroes. Next came the massive Wyrm Jormungandr, and the venom from his serpentine body was already so potent, Angrboda was killed just giving birth to him. After the two monstrous offspring went into the wilderness of Midgard to get their first prey, the Giantess lay dying from the poison. When she finally died after several agonizing days, her gargantuan body collapsed into many smaller forms, and these grew into the first generation of Wyrms. These scaled, fearsome creatures immediately went into the wilderness to find their own lairs. Forgotten in the remains of Angrboda was the third offspring, the daughter Hela. The time confined within the dying Giantess had not been kind to Hela, and she was twisted at birth. Her body was fair and lovely on one side, but hideous and deformed on the other side. Loki took her and proudly presented her to the Aesir as his daughter. The Gods met and decided to allow her into the pantheon, but she would be confined to Niflheim as the Goddess of Death. Her full tale is for another time.
The Wyrm Jormungandr grew unchecked, and even the Gods feared him. Thor had many titanic battles with the Midgard Serpent, but eventually the Gods decreed that these battles were too destructive to the world of the mortal races. Still acting for the Aesir, Loki met with Jormungandr and offered this compromise: he could grow infinitely and the Gods would not harm him until Ragnarok, but he could only devour what lay in front of him. The Wyrm was powerful, poisonous, and magical, but not very intelligent. It quickly agreed, thinking that the entire world of Midgard before him was his to devour. But Loki had tricked him, and moved the Wyrm's own tail in front of his face as he agreed to the compact. Jormungandr immediately bit into his own tail, and for an age he ate only his own tail. Still he grew though, and eventually he was so immense he encircled Midgard entirely, constantly chewing on his own tail in a futile effort to devour it. But for a long age, the Midgard Serpent harmed only those who were foolish enough to challenge him, and Midgard had relative peace. Until the Day of Reckoning, Ragnarok, that is.
Now the first generation of Wyrms were brethren to Jormungandr, but these creatures did not possess the full divinity and infinite power of the Midgard Serpent. Yet they still possessed great potential for power, and they also had the capacity to learn a great deal. And learn they did, from any source they could find. Similar to Dragons today, these Wyrms were plagued by greed, whether it was for knowledge, treasure, or magic. All Wyrms greedily hoarded as much as they could find.
Now many of the Wyrms only sought to gain gems and minerals from the earth, and through the centuries they burrowed deeper and deeper into the earth, almost becoming one with the world of Midgard. These Wyrms became the Gem Dragons, and they remained neutral in the conflict that was still to come. Many other Wyrms came under the tutelage of Odin and other Aesir, and they were able to curb their greed and learn to follow the path of good. These Wyrms were blessed with great knowledge and power by Odin, but their numbers were fewest of any of their kin. For the most part they remained outside of Midgard, residing in Alfheim with the Vanir Frey and Freya until after Ragnarok. The remaining Wyrms were the most numerous, and the most greedy. They hoarded all the treasure and knowledge in Midgard that they could, and then built great lairs for themselves where they could command the weaker mortal races to serve them. Eventually, Loki, Surtur, and Thrym began swaying this group of Wyrms over to the side of the Giants. These Wyrms listened to the evil words of Loki and the Giants and their hearts became evil. They sympathized with the plight of the Giants in their struggle with the Aesir. Loki began to shepherd the strongest of these Wyrms into the lands of the Giants, Jotunheim and Muspelheim.
When Loki finally led the Giants over the Rainbow Bridge to assault the Gods, many Wyrms followed in their wake, thriving on warfare and carnage. The Vanir twins released the Metallic Dragons to combat the Chromatic Dragons. The clash between Dragonkind was titanic, but nothing compared to the melee between the Midgard Serpent Jormungandr and Thor the God of Thunder. As was fated, the Serpent slew the Thunder God, and many other Gods were slain, as were many Giants and their Gods, Surtur and Thrym. In the end, Hela betrayed the Aesir and her brethren the Giants both, and she released her own spawn on the battlefield, her poisonous Hags of Niflheim, and they fed off the carnage and death on the battlefield. Hela’s power swelled, and she swallowed up several of the dead Gods and Giants and stole their dying power. Jormungandr himself was sorely wounded by Thor, and Hela destroyed her brother with an epic spell. Hela herself left the field of carnage triumphant, and returned to Niflheim a greater goddess.
The resulting wash of destructive chaos shook the world and resulted in a titanic shift in the planar boundaries. The Rainbow Bridge was destroyed and Midgard was shaken by catastrophic floods, earthquakes, storms, and fires. The surviving Giants were thrown back into their respective worlds, the few surviving Aesir were cast into Alfheim, and the surviving Dragons cast into Midgard. Only the strongest on both sides of Dragonkind were able to survive both Ragnarok and the cataclysm of Jormungandr’s death throes. The Midgard Serpent finally was still, and out of his remains were born two new gods, the deities Tiamat and Bahamut. Tiamat was evil, and became the patron deity of the Chromatic Dragons. Bahamut was good, and became the patron deity of the Metallic Dragons. Also out of the remains of the Midgard Serpent came a new generation of Dragons, as well as many other foul creatures. From the primordial chaos of Ragnarok, and the deaths of many divine beings, came several new deities, all born out of the elemental magic of the new world. Akadi became the Goddess of Air, the Sun, and the Wind. Kossuth became the God of Fire, Magic, and Knowledge, as well as the new patron of the Fire Giants. And Ramos became the God of Water, the Sea, and Storms, as well as the new patron of the Frost Giants. Hela became the Goddess of Earth, in addition to her portfolio of Death, Disease, and Evil.
While the mortal races struggled to survive in the new world, the surviving Wyrms from the previous age carved out niches for themselves in the wilderness and began an era of domination that lasted for centuries. The Ancients, as these powerful and crafty evil Wyrms came to be known, were worshipped like deities in their various regions for several centuries. It was 500 years after Ragnarok before the power of the Ancients was first challenged, first by the rise of the Elemental Deities, and then by the return of the avatars of the Aesir to Midgard.
When Hela once again conspired against her divine brethren by aiding the return of the Giants to Midgard, the Giants and Aesir once again clashed. The Gods Kossuth and Ramos led the Giants against the younger Aesir into a potentially titanic conflict. This time, the Gods battled as Avatars, and the deaths of these were not as devastating as Ragnarok. Akadi, good Goddess of the Sun and the Sky, remained neutral in the conflict, and counseled Bahamut and the good Dragons to remain neutral, unless Tiamat and the evil Dragons entered the conflict. They did not. The Ancients(2) continued to gather power and followers during this conflict, and they foresaw that their time would come.
The end of the Avatar War saw a new order arise in Midgard. The Elemental Gods and the Aesir compacted the Ban of Transcendence, which decreed that they would not wage divine war on the Material Plane. The destruction of Ragnarok and the lesser destruction of the Avatar War was fresh in the minds of the Gods, and following the retreat of the Giants to Jotunheim and Muspelheim, the Gods withdrew their Avatars from Midgard. Only with great tact could the Gods directly intervene now on the Prime. They began a practice of using more intermedaries to exert their will.
A direct result of the Ban was that Dragon followers had more freedom in which to act, and the power vacuum, caused by the departure of the Avatars, was filled by the rising Elemental Princes, as well as the Dragon cults. The cults of the various Great Wyrms spread out and dominated various regions of Midgard for several centuries. Mighty spellcasters in these cults often practiced the use of Summoning Fiends, who directly and indirectly battled the foes of the cults.
The Dragon cults were checked by a new organization, very secretive, that called itself the Kathendas Enclaves(3). Wielding power derived from the Gods themselves, and secreted away in their demiplane Citadel, the Enclaves soon had many champions to oppose both the power of the Dragon cults and their Fiendish aid. In addition to the Enclaves and their organization, there were other groups, notably the Knights of the Sacred Flame, the Justicars of Sif, the Tidal Brotherhood of Ramos, and the Stone Guard of Burok Torn, that battled the power of the Dragon cults.
The most powerful and established Wyrms were all descended from before Ragnarok, and were kin to the Midgard Serpent himself. As such these all had legendary power and resources. They became known as the Ancients, and they were: Ashardalon, Acessiwal, Glerion, Sushalaw, and Incalagon.
Ashardalon the Red was the mightiest Wyrm, and according to legend was tutored in the depths of evil and destruction by both Loki and Surtur. He had unmatched power, and his highest servant was a vampire wizard named Gulthias. At the height of his power, Ashardalon’s empire included the lands from the Jungle of Pryan , north into the Stoneheart Mountains, across the hot plains of the Iron Kingdom, and south to the city of Palanthus. He was a tyrant the world had never seen, and his following was fanatical, almost insanely so.
Acessiwal the White ruled the frozen Northlands. Acessiwal left much of the rule of his Kingdom to his chief servant, the wizard Helios, and spent much time travelling while polymorphed, entering the growing villages and towns of the North learning about the mortal races. The only rapport he could understand in the end though, was that of master and slave. In the end, after years of study, Acessiwal finally launched his army of followers into conquering most of the lands of the north. Acessiwal conquered the local Frost Giant tribes, the Frost Salamanders, the Glacier Dwarves, and the scattered Northmen. Those who would not join his empire willingly were destroyed or enslaved. The entire clan of the Glacier Dwarves was wiped out by his evil, and the few that survived his war were enslaved in his mines, never to return.
Glerion the Green was a mistress of powerful illusions, and a shapechanger. Her cult was centered in the eastern Stoneheart Mountains, and was the smallest of all the cults. Her power was less perceptible, but still deadly and evil. Her cult followers infiltrated other organizations, giving her allegiances all over Midgard. Her cultists were even able to infiltrate the Citadel of the Path, and pervert one of the Kathendas Enclaves. Glerion ruled the Hill Giants of Trondheim, warred against the dwarves of Burok Torn, and had agents causing discord in the Drow city of Dier Drendal. The mistrust and war that exists to this day between Burok Torn and Dier Drendal (who at one time had been allies), may have been the work of Glerion herself.
The Blue Wyrm Sushalaw was known as the Thunder God among his cultists. His cult was spread across the southern plains between the Great Wood and the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon. In his folly, the Wyrm tried and failed to exert his influence in the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon, but the Wulgash Knights made him recoil and retreat. He did successfully conquer the Dust Hills and the Gnomish people that resided there, and put many of their inventions to use in his army. Most of the superstitious Horsemen of the plains were scattered by his forces.
Incalagon the Black was known as the Serpent God, and he ruled a Kingdom that stretched around the Coral Bay and included the Death Marsh, the lush Sheldomar Valley, and the western reaches of the Stoneheart Mountains. He was worshipped like a God by the Yuan-Ti, and also feared and followed by Troglodytes, Trolls, Sahaugin, and many other vile species. It was his cult that further disturbed the balance and provoked the Kathendas Enclaves into action when Incalagon’s High Priest Viperion discovered the Nexus between worlds, a Gateway world with gateways to all other worlds. Viperion’s discovery and exploration eventually led to the imprisonment of Incalagon and the waging of the Unseen War between Dragons. The Enclaves, with the Metallic Dragons on their side, were able to seal the Nexus and imprison Incalagon within. Most of the Serpent God’s cult was also trapped.
But one escaped, a Drow sorceror, Lord Sandrax, and he continued to operate on his master’s orders for several years. Finally the Enclaves caught him and sent him to a prison without bars; guarding the entrance to the Nexus, cursed to forever live, and forever use the magic he possessed to hold the Nexus closed, and safe from evil. In his youth Sandrax was a master smith, and with the Durin created a magical orb that would have helped control the Wyrms. Both the Durin and the Drow races combined their skills and souls to create this 2-part orb that would provide a weapon against the Ancients. But Sandrax proved to be a traitor, and after the completion of the Orb, he stole half of it and fled to the armies of the Great Ashardalon. The Dwarves kept the other half, and they tried to spirit it away to Burok Torn for safekeeping. Alas, they were ambushed by Gulthias, and in the battle, the other half was lost.
Soon after, Ashardalon was thrown down by the power of the Druid Dydd, Gulthias went insane, and Ashardalon’s cult collapsed. Sandrax was captured by the Enclaves, but he had already given his stolen half of the Orb to Gulthias. Gulthias was later staked in the Citadel of the Sacred Flame by followers of the Fire God Kossuth, and his legend was buried beneath a shallow grave and an ocean of time.
But the return of Gulthias was just a matter of time, and required only the hand of a follower of the Fire God to complete. And that hand belonged to the one-time hero, the Dragoneer(4) Bruin Haldar…..
A man with a shadow on his soul, and a tale of his own to tell……
(1)-Gondril is also known as the Black Druid, and 20 years prior to the start of the campaign, he led a war against the Kathendas Enclaves and the city-states of the Kingdom of Kalendia.
(2)-The Ancients are the most powerful, most evil Great Wyrms and are not limited to the 5 listed. Those 5 are just the most famous and powerful. But the latter day Wyrms chose to remain more or less in the shadows after their predecessors fell from their thrones. In the present day campaign, the Ancients are referred to as a general cult of secretive Dragon cultists.
(3)-The Kathendas Enclaves are also known to some as the Citadel of the Path, and they have many different classes and races under their influence.
(4)-The Dragoneers were the most reknowned band of adventurers in Kalendia 20 years ago. More on them later....
Gondril's Treatise on Dragons(1)
Dragons, often called Wyrms, or rarely Serpents, are believed to have been spawned by Loki, the ancient God of Strife, Mischief, and Fire. It is said that in previous ages Loki was at one time counted as an ally to the All-Father Odin. His role in the Aesir was that of a trickster and problem-solver, and an agent for change and growth.
Restless and easily bored, Loki would often amuse himself by playing practical jokes on the other Gods. He also spent much time with the Giants, the enemies of the Aesir, learning and gaining new insights and perspectives. His union with the giantess Angrboda produced three offspring: Fenrir the Wolf, Jormungandr the World Serpent, and Hela, Goddess of the Underworld.
According to legends still told among Giants even now, Fenrir was born first from the monstrous Angrboda. His first howl was said to have reached Valhalla and shaken the Hall of Heroes. Next came the massive Wyrm Jormungandr, and the venom from his serpentine body was already so potent, Angrboda was killed just giving birth to him. After the two monstrous offspring went into the wilderness of Midgard to get their first prey, the Giantess lay dying from the poison. When she finally died after several agonizing days, her gargantuan body collapsed into many smaller forms, and these grew into the first generation of Wyrms. These scaled, fearsome creatures immediately went into the wilderness to find their own lairs. Forgotten in the remains of Angrboda was the third offspring, the daughter Hela. The time confined within the dying Giantess had not been kind to Hela, and she was twisted at birth. Her body was fair and lovely on one side, but hideous and deformed on the other side. Loki took her and proudly presented her to the Aesir as his daughter. The Gods met and decided to allow her into the pantheon, but she would be confined to Niflheim as the Goddess of Death. Her full tale is for another time.
The Wyrm Jormungandr grew unchecked, and even the Gods feared him. Thor had many titanic battles with the Midgard Serpent, but eventually the Gods decreed that these battles were too destructive to the world of the mortal races. Still acting for the Aesir, Loki met with Jormungandr and offered this compromise: he could grow infinitely and the Gods would not harm him until Ragnarok, but he could only devour what lay in front of him. The Wyrm was powerful, poisonous, and magical, but not very intelligent. It quickly agreed, thinking that the entire world of Midgard before him was his to devour. But Loki had tricked him, and moved the Wyrm's own tail in front of his face as he agreed to the compact. Jormungandr immediately bit into his own tail, and for an age he ate only his own tail. Still he grew though, and eventually he was so immense he encircled Midgard entirely, constantly chewing on his own tail in a futile effort to devour it. But for a long age, the Midgard Serpent harmed only those who were foolish enough to challenge him, and Midgard had relative peace. Until the Day of Reckoning, Ragnarok, that is.
Now the first generation of Wyrms were brethren to Jormungandr, but these creatures did not possess the full divinity and infinite power of the Midgard Serpent. Yet they still possessed great potential for power, and they also had the capacity to learn a great deal. And learn they did, from any source they could find. Similar to Dragons today, these Wyrms were plagued by greed, whether it was for knowledge, treasure, or magic. All Wyrms greedily hoarded as much as they could find.
Now many of the Wyrms only sought to gain gems and minerals from the earth, and through the centuries they burrowed deeper and deeper into the earth, almost becoming one with the world of Midgard. These Wyrms became the Gem Dragons, and they remained neutral in the conflict that was still to come. Many other Wyrms came under the tutelage of Odin and other Aesir, and they were able to curb their greed and learn to follow the path of good. These Wyrms were blessed with great knowledge and power by Odin, but their numbers were fewest of any of their kin. For the most part they remained outside of Midgard, residing in Alfheim with the Vanir Frey and Freya until after Ragnarok. The remaining Wyrms were the most numerous, and the most greedy. They hoarded all the treasure and knowledge in Midgard that they could, and then built great lairs for themselves where they could command the weaker mortal races to serve them. Eventually, Loki, Surtur, and Thrym began swaying this group of Wyrms over to the side of the Giants. These Wyrms listened to the evil words of Loki and the Giants and their hearts became evil. They sympathized with the plight of the Giants in their struggle with the Aesir. Loki began to shepherd the strongest of these Wyrms into the lands of the Giants, Jotunheim and Muspelheim.
When Loki finally led the Giants over the Rainbow Bridge to assault the Gods, many Wyrms followed in their wake, thriving on warfare and carnage. The Vanir twins released the Metallic Dragons to combat the Chromatic Dragons. The clash between Dragonkind was titanic, but nothing compared to the melee between the Midgard Serpent Jormungandr and Thor the God of Thunder. As was fated, the Serpent slew the Thunder God, and many other Gods were slain, as were many Giants and their Gods, Surtur and Thrym. In the end, Hela betrayed the Aesir and her brethren the Giants both, and she released her own spawn on the battlefield, her poisonous Hags of Niflheim, and they fed off the carnage and death on the battlefield. Hela’s power swelled, and she swallowed up several of the dead Gods and Giants and stole their dying power. Jormungandr himself was sorely wounded by Thor, and Hela destroyed her brother with an epic spell. Hela herself left the field of carnage triumphant, and returned to Niflheim a greater goddess.
The resulting wash of destructive chaos shook the world and resulted in a titanic shift in the planar boundaries. The Rainbow Bridge was destroyed and Midgard was shaken by catastrophic floods, earthquakes, storms, and fires. The surviving Giants were thrown back into their respective worlds, the few surviving Aesir were cast into Alfheim, and the surviving Dragons cast into Midgard. Only the strongest on both sides of Dragonkind were able to survive both Ragnarok and the cataclysm of Jormungandr’s death throes. The Midgard Serpent finally was still, and out of his remains were born two new gods, the deities Tiamat and Bahamut. Tiamat was evil, and became the patron deity of the Chromatic Dragons. Bahamut was good, and became the patron deity of the Metallic Dragons. Also out of the remains of the Midgard Serpent came a new generation of Dragons, as well as many other foul creatures. From the primordial chaos of Ragnarok, and the deaths of many divine beings, came several new deities, all born out of the elemental magic of the new world. Akadi became the Goddess of Air, the Sun, and the Wind. Kossuth became the God of Fire, Magic, and Knowledge, as well as the new patron of the Fire Giants. And Ramos became the God of Water, the Sea, and Storms, as well as the new patron of the Frost Giants. Hela became the Goddess of Earth, in addition to her portfolio of Death, Disease, and Evil.
While the mortal races struggled to survive in the new world, the surviving Wyrms from the previous age carved out niches for themselves in the wilderness and began an era of domination that lasted for centuries. The Ancients, as these powerful and crafty evil Wyrms came to be known, were worshipped like deities in their various regions for several centuries. It was 500 years after Ragnarok before the power of the Ancients was first challenged, first by the rise of the Elemental Deities, and then by the return of the avatars of the Aesir to Midgard.
When Hela once again conspired against her divine brethren by aiding the return of the Giants to Midgard, the Giants and Aesir once again clashed. The Gods Kossuth and Ramos led the Giants against the younger Aesir into a potentially titanic conflict. This time, the Gods battled as Avatars, and the deaths of these were not as devastating as Ragnarok. Akadi, good Goddess of the Sun and the Sky, remained neutral in the conflict, and counseled Bahamut and the good Dragons to remain neutral, unless Tiamat and the evil Dragons entered the conflict. They did not. The Ancients(2) continued to gather power and followers during this conflict, and they foresaw that their time would come.
The end of the Avatar War saw a new order arise in Midgard. The Elemental Gods and the Aesir compacted the Ban of Transcendence, which decreed that they would not wage divine war on the Material Plane. The destruction of Ragnarok and the lesser destruction of the Avatar War was fresh in the minds of the Gods, and following the retreat of the Giants to Jotunheim and Muspelheim, the Gods withdrew their Avatars from Midgard. Only with great tact could the Gods directly intervene now on the Prime. They began a practice of using more intermedaries to exert their will.
A direct result of the Ban was that Dragon followers had more freedom in which to act, and the power vacuum, caused by the departure of the Avatars, was filled by the rising Elemental Princes, as well as the Dragon cults. The cults of the various Great Wyrms spread out and dominated various regions of Midgard for several centuries. Mighty spellcasters in these cults often practiced the use of Summoning Fiends, who directly and indirectly battled the foes of the cults.
The Dragon cults were checked by a new organization, very secretive, that called itself the Kathendas Enclaves(3). Wielding power derived from the Gods themselves, and secreted away in their demiplane Citadel, the Enclaves soon had many champions to oppose both the power of the Dragon cults and their Fiendish aid. In addition to the Enclaves and their organization, there were other groups, notably the Knights of the Sacred Flame, the Justicars of Sif, the Tidal Brotherhood of Ramos, and the Stone Guard of Burok Torn, that battled the power of the Dragon cults.
The most powerful and established Wyrms were all descended from before Ragnarok, and were kin to the Midgard Serpent himself. As such these all had legendary power and resources. They became known as the Ancients, and they were: Ashardalon, Acessiwal, Glerion, Sushalaw, and Incalagon.
Ashardalon the Red was the mightiest Wyrm, and according to legend was tutored in the depths of evil and destruction by both Loki and Surtur. He had unmatched power, and his highest servant was a vampire wizard named Gulthias. At the height of his power, Ashardalon’s empire included the lands from the Jungle of Pryan , north into the Stoneheart Mountains, across the hot plains of the Iron Kingdom, and south to the city of Palanthus. He was a tyrant the world had never seen, and his following was fanatical, almost insanely so.
Acessiwal the White ruled the frozen Northlands. Acessiwal left much of the rule of his Kingdom to his chief servant, the wizard Helios, and spent much time travelling while polymorphed, entering the growing villages and towns of the North learning about the mortal races. The only rapport he could understand in the end though, was that of master and slave. In the end, after years of study, Acessiwal finally launched his army of followers into conquering most of the lands of the north. Acessiwal conquered the local Frost Giant tribes, the Frost Salamanders, the Glacier Dwarves, and the scattered Northmen. Those who would not join his empire willingly were destroyed or enslaved. The entire clan of the Glacier Dwarves was wiped out by his evil, and the few that survived his war were enslaved in his mines, never to return.
Glerion the Green was a mistress of powerful illusions, and a shapechanger. Her cult was centered in the eastern Stoneheart Mountains, and was the smallest of all the cults. Her power was less perceptible, but still deadly and evil. Her cult followers infiltrated other organizations, giving her allegiances all over Midgard. Her cultists were even able to infiltrate the Citadel of the Path, and pervert one of the Kathendas Enclaves. Glerion ruled the Hill Giants of Trondheim, warred against the dwarves of Burok Torn, and had agents causing discord in the Drow city of Dier Drendal. The mistrust and war that exists to this day between Burok Torn and Dier Drendal (who at one time had been allies), may have been the work of Glerion herself.
The Blue Wyrm Sushalaw was known as the Thunder God among his cultists. His cult was spread across the southern plains between the Great Wood and the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon. In his folly, the Wyrm tried and failed to exert his influence in the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon, but the Wulgash Knights made him recoil and retreat. He did successfully conquer the Dust Hills and the Gnomish people that resided there, and put many of their inventions to use in his army. Most of the superstitious Horsemen of the plains were scattered by his forces.
Incalagon the Black was known as the Serpent God, and he ruled a Kingdom that stretched around the Coral Bay and included the Death Marsh, the lush Sheldomar Valley, and the western reaches of the Stoneheart Mountains. He was worshipped like a God by the Yuan-Ti, and also feared and followed by Troglodytes, Trolls, Sahaugin, and many other vile species. It was his cult that further disturbed the balance and provoked the Kathendas Enclaves into action when Incalagon’s High Priest Viperion discovered the Nexus between worlds, a Gateway world with gateways to all other worlds. Viperion’s discovery and exploration eventually led to the imprisonment of Incalagon and the waging of the Unseen War between Dragons. The Enclaves, with the Metallic Dragons on their side, were able to seal the Nexus and imprison Incalagon within. Most of the Serpent God’s cult was also trapped.
But one escaped, a Drow sorceror, Lord Sandrax, and he continued to operate on his master’s orders for several years. Finally the Enclaves caught him and sent him to a prison without bars; guarding the entrance to the Nexus, cursed to forever live, and forever use the magic he possessed to hold the Nexus closed, and safe from evil. In his youth Sandrax was a master smith, and with the Durin created a magical orb that would have helped control the Wyrms. Both the Durin and the Drow races combined their skills and souls to create this 2-part orb that would provide a weapon against the Ancients. But Sandrax proved to be a traitor, and after the completion of the Orb, he stole half of it and fled to the armies of the Great Ashardalon. The Dwarves kept the other half, and they tried to spirit it away to Burok Torn for safekeeping. Alas, they were ambushed by Gulthias, and in the battle, the other half was lost.
Soon after, Ashardalon was thrown down by the power of the Druid Dydd, Gulthias went insane, and Ashardalon’s cult collapsed. Sandrax was captured by the Enclaves, but he had already given his stolen half of the Orb to Gulthias. Gulthias was later staked in the Citadel of the Sacred Flame by followers of the Fire God Kossuth, and his legend was buried beneath a shallow grave and an ocean of time.
But the return of Gulthias was just a matter of time, and required only the hand of a follower of the Fire God to complete. And that hand belonged to the one-time hero, the Dragoneer(4) Bruin Haldar…..
A man with a shadow on his soul, and a tale of his own to tell……
(1)-Gondril is also known as the Black Druid, and 20 years prior to the start of the campaign, he led a war against the Kathendas Enclaves and the city-states of the Kingdom of Kalendia.
(2)-The Ancients are the most powerful, most evil Great Wyrms and are not limited to the 5 listed. Those 5 are just the most famous and powerful. But the latter day Wyrms chose to remain more or less in the shadows after their predecessors fell from their thrones. In the present day campaign, the Ancients are referred to as a general cult of secretive Dragon cultists.
(3)-The Kathendas Enclaves are also known to some as the Citadel of the Path, and they have many different classes and races under their influence.
(4)-The Dragoneers were the most reknowned band of adventurers in Kalendia 20 years ago. More on them later....
Last edited:
Rythannian
First Post
Rythannian's Beginnings
I am a player in the Sundered Realms campaign and this is a post from my characters veiwpoint:
After many months of adventuring it is difficult to recall my humble beginnings. But it is in these pages that I will attempt to do that exactly. My name is Rythannian, born of the growfest moon as the son of Shara Stratos, a half-air elemental, elemental savant, and a prominent warrior in the Druid War many years ago. But that is a story already recounted by sages across Kelendia. In that respect, my tale begins long before my birth; however, I will start the tale in Garl’s Gate a bustling port town on the edge of the Doriath woods. It is here that many merchants send there good via airships through Airianus a region of land-less wind.
It is in this city that my mother left me to train in secrecy. Gwentrickien Windforger, descendent of the gnomish inventor Kendall Windforger, developer of the great wind ships that travel through Airanus, was my master. He taught me the beginnings of all that is arcane. The streets taught me to survive. Although civilized, Garl’s Gate did have its seedy side. In these dark corners my nimble fingers found there way into many a lock and my skills as Rouge flourished.
After a few years I had grown into a trusted apprentice of Gwentrickien and he began to take me on his travels. It was during these finals days of tutelage we began to visit the library of Feriblan in the city of Reme. I was not pleased to visit, for while there I was forced to have contact with Vortigern, Feriblan’s apprentice, and his loathsome familiar – Talon. I managed to avoid Vortigern in the last visit I would take to Feriblan’s. While perusing mundane documents in an outer sitting room as Gwentrickien and Feriblan studied ancient text, I circumvented a lock on the back of a small reading stand.
To my surprise, a secret compartment opened to reveal a small bound piece of parchment and an item wrapped in a silk cloth. Checking to be sure that I was unobserved, I slipped them into my Robe. The parchment eventually proved to be a letter from a person – apparently a wizard – named Eralion. Eralion left this letter and pouch on his last visit to Reme before some “ritual” that he spoke of in the letter. Also referred to in the letter was an amulet that proved to be inside the pouch. From the amulet hung a medallion, on one side a serpent eating its tail, on the other side a giant Oak tree.
Intrigued by the letter I returned to Reme, to visit Feriblan’s some months later. Now free of Gwentrickien’s servitude, I wished to learn more of the history of Eralion and the amulet I now wore around my neck. After some indirect questions of Feriblan I learned of Eralion’s keep, which was located to the east of Reme some six days travel, near the village of Fairhill. Feriblan had not seen the Eralion in many months and the wizard had failed to return several valuable texts and spell books. He also made reference to a staff that Eralion created which had magical power. I left determined to find out why Eralion had not returned to Feriblan’s. Perhaps with a little persuasion I thought I could secure Feriblan’s belongings for myself.
It was in Reme, at an inn called the Starving Stirge; I put up an advertisement for able-bodied adventures to travel to Fairhill. Promising an equal division of all gold recovered, I soon gathered with a group of comrades-at-arms eager for adventure and glory. Quite unexpected, I was joined by Galdar, a Cleric of Forsetti. He questioned me about my amulet. Although my first instinct was to run I eventually revealed it to him after he told me he was send by his deity to protect me. Though I was reluctant to reveal to my other new comrades the entire story of my journey, they quickly secured their belongs for the journey to Fairhill. And none to soon as me last few nights of my stay at the Starving Stirge I could see Talon, the raven familiar of Vortigern, outside my window.
I am a player in the Sundered Realms campaign and this is a post from my characters veiwpoint:
Rythannian's Beginnings
After many months of adventuring it is difficult to recall my humble beginnings. But it is in these pages that I will attempt to do that exactly. My name is Rythannian, born of the growfest moon as the son of Shara Stratos, a half-air elemental, elemental savant, and a prominent warrior in the Druid War many years ago. But that is a story already recounted by sages across Kelendia. In that respect, my tale begins long before my birth; however, I will start the tale in Garl’s Gate a bustling port town on the edge of the Doriath woods. It is here that many merchants send there good via airships through Airianus a region of land-less wind.
It is in this city that my mother left me to train in secrecy. Gwentrickien Windforger, descendent of the gnomish inventor Kendall Windforger, developer of the great wind ships that travel through Airanus, was my master. He taught me the beginnings of all that is arcane. The streets taught me to survive. Although civilized, Garl’s Gate did have its seedy side. In these dark corners my nimble fingers found there way into many a lock and my skills as Rouge flourished.
After a few years I had grown into a trusted apprentice of Gwentrickien and he began to take me on his travels. It was during these finals days of tutelage we began to visit the library of Feriblan in the city of Reme. I was not pleased to visit, for while there I was forced to have contact with Vortigern, Feriblan’s apprentice, and his loathsome familiar – Talon. I managed to avoid Vortigern in the last visit I would take to Feriblan’s. While perusing mundane documents in an outer sitting room as Gwentrickien and Feriblan studied ancient text, I circumvented a lock on the back of a small reading stand.
To my surprise, a secret compartment opened to reveal a small bound piece of parchment and an item wrapped in a silk cloth. Checking to be sure that I was unobserved, I slipped them into my Robe. The parchment eventually proved to be a letter from a person – apparently a wizard – named Eralion. Eralion left this letter and pouch on his last visit to Reme before some “ritual” that he spoke of in the letter. Also referred to in the letter was an amulet that proved to be inside the pouch. From the amulet hung a medallion, on one side a serpent eating its tail, on the other side a giant Oak tree.
Intrigued by the letter I returned to Reme, to visit Feriblan’s some months later. Now free of Gwentrickien’s servitude, I wished to learn more of the history of Eralion and the amulet I now wore around my neck. After some indirect questions of Feriblan I learned of Eralion’s keep, which was located to the east of Reme some six days travel, near the village of Fairhill. Feriblan had not seen the Eralion in many months and the wizard had failed to return several valuable texts and spell books. He also made reference to a staff that Eralion created which had magical power. I left determined to find out why Eralion had not returned to Feriblan’s. Perhaps with a little persuasion I thought I could secure Feriblan’s belongings for myself.
It was in Reme, at an inn called the Starving Stirge; I put up an advertisement for able-bodied adventures to travel to Fairhill. Promising an equal division of all gold recovered, I soon gathered with a group of comrades-at-arms eager for adventure and glory. Quite unexpected, I was joined by Galdar, a Cleric of Forsetti. He questioned me about my amulet. Although my first instinct was to run I eventually revealed it to him after he told me he was send by his deity to protect me. Though I was reluctant to reveal to my other new comrades the entire story of my journey, they quickly secured their belongs for the journey to Fairhill. And none to soon as me last few nights of my stay at the Starving Stirge I could see Talon, the raven familiar of Vortigern, outside my window.
Prologue, Part II
Bruin Haldar was the younger brother of the Hero of Kalendia, Sir Jaycin Threefingers Haldar, and was a hero in his own right. But his past had been tarnished by Demonic Possession. His very name sullied, he struggled for atonement and redemption. In towns where he had once been cheered and welcomed, the common man villified him for his actions while he was possessed. And for every unforgiven transgression, a shadow stretched across his heart, staining his soul. Eventually, anger at his plight festered in his heart, and he sought other means of redress. He began to doubt the justice of his God, and laughed at the purity of the Sacred Flame.
Eventually, his penance required him to serve as jailor in the Sunless Citadel, a place where the most vile and dark criminals served their sentences before the Lord Kossuth. Once this Citadel had been the heart of the Order, a shining beacon, but after centuries, a shadow had fallen over it, and the Elders had decreed that its only use was now as a prison for darkness.
And so, Bruin Haldar found himself doing his penance as jailor in the most shadowy wing of the prison. As he contemplated the sins of those imprisoned, so he was better supposed to be able to understand his own sins, and recover from them. Or so the Elders said. But Bruin found it was not nearly so simple.
His favorite prisoner was an undead spirit, a man buried beneath a withered tree in the prison garden. The spirit never said his name, but he was very intelligent, and knew something of redemption, absolution, and revenge, Bruin's 3 favorite subjects. Each day on his watch Bruin would come to the garden cell and remove the stake before the withered tree. Like clockwork, the spirit would appear and begin conversing with Bruin. A body would eventually appear after several minutes, but Bruin always replaced the stake before the spirit grew too bold.
But one day, Bruin's heart was particularly angry, and particularly bitter. He longed to return to his friends, the Dragoneers, and fight evil as he did in his younger days. But part of his spirit railed against those former endeavours, saying they had been a waste of time. And it was that day that Bruin discovered that the Demonic influence that he thought had been removed, still existed around him, and would never be extinguished. He longed for peace from the evil and freedom from his fate, but that was not to be had. His new embrace of evil and death began that day. As Bruin pondered the injustice of his atonement for actions he had never willingly done, the Shadow Demon took strong root in his soul and never let go. It offered Bruin everlasting power and his own form of justice. Bruin accepted, and so stepped down the path of the Blackguard, forever forsaking his vows as a Knight of the Sacred Flame, and also forsaking his friendships with the Dragoneers.
Before that day, Bruin had always replaced the stake in the loose earth before the withered tree, as he had been instructed to do by his Elder sponsor. But that day, Bruin discarded the ancient stake, and taking his last vial of holy water, he smashed it against the far wall, and walked towards the gate of the garden.
Five minutes later, Bruin Haldar stood over the body of his benefactor, the Elder Skadaroth, and the creature he had freed stood next to him. The creature was a pale wisp of a man, who seemed to fear daylight. He intoduced himself then as Gulthias, and decreed that the time of prophecy was drawing near. The halves would become whole, he had said, and the Ancient would return to rule again.
A strange amulet hung about the deathly man's neck, an amulet bearing the symbol of a Serpent eating its own tail. And he said to Bruin, "Do not fear Death, but fear me, for I have outwitted Death, and have returned to rule the world. I must seek Ashardalon, and prepare his return. Go destroy those who kept you here."
And thus did Gulthias walk free after over a millennia of captivity. And so did Bruin begin to seek his own revenge for his plight. And his revenge would begin with those that had been closest to him. And that meant returning to the battlegrounds, and the Druid War.
Bruin smiled, and idly fingered his frosty, black greatsword. He would find his brother, and his former companions, and take what belonged to him by right: the Runesword Flamesinger, the sword of his father.
Bruin Haldar was the younger brother of the Hero of Kalendia, Sir Jaycin Threefingers Haldar, and was a hero in his own right. But his past had been tarnished by Demonic Possession. His very name sullied, he struggled for atonement and redemption. In towns where he had once been cheered and welcomed, the common man villified him for his actions while he was possessed. And for every unforgiven transgression, a shadow stretched across his heart, staining his soul. Eventually, anger at his plight festered in his heart, and he sought other means of redress. He began to doubt the justice of his God, and laughed at the purity of the Sacred Flame.
Eventually, his penance required him to serve as jailor in the Sunless Citadel, a place where the most vile and dark criminals served their sentences before the Lord Kossuth. Once this Citadel had been the heart of the Order, a shining beacon, but after centuries, a shadow had fallen over it, and the Elders had decreed that its only use was now as a prison for darkness.
And so, Bruin Haldar found himself doing his penance as jailor in the most shadowy wing of the prison. As he contemplated the sins of those imprisoned, so he was better supposed to be able to understand his own sins, and recover from them. Or so the Elders said. But Bruin found it was not nearly so simple.
His favorite prisoner was an undead spirit, a man buried beneath a withered tree in the prison garden. The spirit never said his name, but he was very intelligent, and knew something of redemption, absolution, and revenge, Bruin's 3 favorite subjects. Each day on his watch Bruin would come to the garden cell and remove the stake before the withered tree. Like clockwork, the spirit would appear and begin conversing with Bruin. A body would eventually appear after several minutes, but Bruin always replaced the stake before the spirit grew too bold.
But one day, Bruin's heart was particularly angry, and particularly bitter. He longed to return to his friends, the Dragoneers, and fight evil as he did in his younger days. But part of his spirit railed against those former endeavours, saying they had been a waste of time. And it was that day that Bruin discovered that the Demonic influence that he thought had been removed, still existed around him, and would never be extinguished. He longed for peace from the evil and freedom from his fate, but that was not to be had. His new embrace of evil and death began that day. As Bruin pondered the injustice of his atonement for actions he had never willingly done, the Shadow Demon took strong root in his soul and never let go. It offered Bruin everlasting power and his own form of justice. Bruin accepted, and so stepped down the path of the Blackguard, forever forsaking his vows as a Knight of the Sacred Flame, and also forsaking his friendships with the Dragoneers.
Before that day, Bruin had always replaced the stake in the loose earth before the withered tree, as he had been instructed to do by his Elder sponsor. But that day, Bruin discarded the ancient stake, and taking his last vial of holy water, he smashed it against the far wall, and walked towards the gate of the garden.
Five minutes later, Bruin Haldar stood over the body of his benefactor, the Elder Skadaroth, and the creature he had freed stood next to him. The creature was a pale wisp of a man, who seemed to fear daylight. He intoduced himself then as Gulthias, and decreed that the time of prophecy was drawing near. The halves would become whole, he had said, and the Ancient would return to rule again.
A strange amulet hung about the deathly man's neck, an amulet bearing the symbol of a Serpent eating its own tail. And he said to Bruin, "Do not fear Death, but fear me, for I have outwitted Death, and have returned to rule the world. I must seek Ashardalon, and prepare his return. Go destroy those who kept you here."
And thus did Gulthias walk free after over a millennia of captivity. And so did Bruin begin to seek his own revenge for his plight. And his revenge would begin with those that had been closest to him. And that meant returning to the battlegrounds, and the Druid War.
Bruin smiled, and idly fingered his frosty, black greatsword. He would find his brother, and his former companions, and take what belonged to him by right: the Runesword Flamesinger, the sword of his father.
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The Wizard's Amulet, Part I
2nd of Harvester
The name of the inn was the Starving Stirge, and the 6 adventurers gathered about the large table were not so different from any others in this establishment. But already there seemed to be a common bond here, a fellowship of fate.
The youthful leader of the discussion was a wisp of a man named Rythannian, who did not appear armed, and dressed simply in robes. At his side was the taciturn Galdar, a priest of the god of Justice and Law, Forseti. He admitted to all that he was following Rythannian for his own reasons, and had not answered the advertisement which the others had seen. He said something about carrying out his duty and seeing justice done, and that was why he was here, and going on this adventure.
The woodsman Phadian Gess was here by chance it seemed. He had come in from the cold, evening air after a long day outside the city. He had come in for a warm drink and maybe a bed, and some news. He purchased a drink, and then his eye caught the posted advertisement. It mentioned seeking a wizard’s tower to the north. To the north was Fairhill, the region where Phadian had been raised. The land he knew like the back of his hand. The land he longed to return to. But his longing would not override his caution and sense. He had fled his home in a hurry, and carried with him a heavy burden, a sorrowful burden. But with that burden came the realization that he could not run for very long, and justice must be done. He must seek the answers for what had happened. Galdar’s talk of seeking justice stirred in Phadian a feeling of righteousness, a desire to right whatever wrong had been done to his home, to his family. Maybe by going with this…..Rythannian….. he could accomplish that. He fingered his longbow in thought. Yes, he would definitely be going with these two.
The next man was a brown-skinned stranger, well-travelled and darkened from the sun. His name was Parkadius, and his arms and armor spoke to the fact that he was a warrior. He carried a longsword, a scimitar, and a crossbow. He seemed to be a man of integrity, courage, and conviction. And he had the confidence to make others follow his lead. Very soon, he began to take the lead in the discussions. So far, he sensed that this Rythannian was not telling everything, but he had confidence he would get to the bottom of this very soon. He resolved to do everything he could to make this mission a success, and if that meant that he would have to take over the leadership role of this group, so be it. He was ready for that task. He had been born ready to lead.
Next to the Wulgash Paladin sat a very bellicose man dressed as a peasant. He introduced himself as Rocbul, and said he was raised a farmer. The only weapon he knew was the scythe, but he would use everything his body, mind, and spirit had to help the group. He only wanted a chance to kill some orcs, particularly the ones he had tracked from his farm in the south. They had killed his family and razed the farm. Rocbul wanted revenge, and these people seemed to be going just where he wanted to go. Revenge and justice sometimes went hand-in-hand, or so he had heard in his youth. So he would follow that path now. Rage flickered within him. And a dust cloud covered him.
The last companion was a strange-looking Dwarf with a patch over one eye. His name was Kos Fargost, and he had the appearance of a well-travelled outdoorsman. Kos was dedicated to preserving the lives of those who could not defend themselves, especially if they be animal lives. He was a Ranger by trade, but he also claimed to be a former pirate and skilled sailor. His very skin seemed to be made of stone. Beneath his eyepatch was perhaps the secret of the very ocean itself. Kos was a man of many mysteries, and he was explaining none of them.
Rythannian was eager to be gone, and was reluctant to answer questions. He gave vague answers to those questions, merely promising treasure and glory to those who followed him. The way of his words was not inspiring to others. His intellect told him that others should follow him because it was the best, most intelligent choice, but he did not have the charisma nor the wisdom to persuade others to this choice. He left the persuasion to others, and planned for the journey ahead. His secrets he would not give up to anyone, not even Galdar, unless the very Gods deigned to reveal them to all.
Rythannian’s hair blew about him as if he was floating through the air or falling down a deep rift. But he was not. It was the Mark of the Mistress of the Winds, Akadi, and Rythannian bore it proudly, stubbornly.
As the party finally agreed to move out and seek Fairhill, a black bird flew away from the windowsill of the inn, returning to its master with its diabolical intelligence.
Very soon, the first battle for the Wizard’s Amulet would begin.
2nd of Harvester
The name of the inn was the Starving Stirge, and the 6 adventurers gathered about the large table were not so different from any others in this establishment. But already there seemed to be a common bond here, a fellowship of fate.
The youthful leader of the discussion was a wisp of a man named Rythannian, who did not appear armed, and dressed simply in robes. At his side was the taciturn Galdar, a priest of the god of Justice and Law, Forseti. He admitted to all that he was following Rythannian for his own reasons, and had not answered the advertisement which the others had seen. He said something about carrying out his duty and seeing justice done, and that was why he was here, and going on this adventure.
The woodsman Phadian Gess was here by chance it seemed. He had come in from the cold, evening air after a long day outside the city. He had come in for a warm drink and maybe a bed, and some news. He purchased a drink, and then his eye caught the posted advertisement. It mentioned seeking a wizard’s tower to the north. To the north was Fairhill, the region where Phadian had been raised. The land he knew like the back of his hand. The land he longed to return to. But his longing would not override his caution and sense. He had fled his home in a hurry, and carried with him a heavy burden, a sorrowful burden. But with that burden came the realization that he could not run for very long, and justice must be done. He must seek the answers for what had happened. Galdar’s talk of seeking justice stirred in Phadian a feeling of righteousness, a desire to right whatever wrong had been done to his home, to his family. Maybe by going with this…..Rythannian….. he could accomplish that. He fingered his longbow in thought. Yes, he would definitely be going with these two.
The next man was a brown-skinned stranger, well-travelled and darkened from the sun. His name was Parkadius, and his arms and armor spoke to the fact that he was a warrior. He carried a longsword, a scimitar, and a crossbow. He seemed to be a man of integrity, courage, and conviction. And he had the confidence to make others follow his lead. Very soon, he began to take the lead in the discussions. So far, he sensed that this Rythannian was not telling everything, but he had confidence he would get to the bottom of this very soon. He resolved to do everything he could to make this mission a success, and if that meant that he would have to take over the leadership role of this group, so be it. He was ready for that task. He had been born ready to lead.
Next to the Wulgash Paladin sat a very bellicose man dressed as a peasant. He introduced himself as Rocbul, and said he was raised a farmer. The only weapon he knew was the scythe, but he would use everything his body, mind, and spirit had to help the group. He only wanted a chance to kill some orcs, particularly the ones he had tracked from his farm in the south. They had killed his family and razed the farm. Rocbul wanted revenge, and these people seemed to be going just where he wanted to go. Revenge and justice sometimes went hand-in-hand, or so he had heard in his youth. So he would follow that path now. Rage flickered within him. And a dust cloud covered him.
The last companion was a strange-looking Dwarf with a patch over one eye. His name was Kos Fargost, and he had the appearance of a well-travelled outdoorsman. Kos was dedicated to preserving the lives of those who could not defend themselves, especially if they be animal lives. He was a Ranger by trade, but he also claimed to be a former pirate and skilled sailor. His very skin seemed to be made of stone. Beneath his eyepatch was perhaps the secret of the very ocean itself. Kos was a man of many mysteries, and he was explaining none of them.
Rythannian was eager to be gone, and was reluctant to answer questions. He gave vague answers to those questions, merely promising treasure and glory to those who followed him. The way of his words was not inspiring to others. His intellect told him that others should follow him because it was the best, most intelligent choice, but he did not have the charisma nor the wisdom to persuade others to this choice. He left the persuasion to others, and planned for the journey ahead. His secrets he would not give up to anyone, not even Galdar, unless the very Gods deigned to reveal them to all.
Rythannian’s hair blew about him as if he was floating through the air or falling down a deep rift. But he was not. It was the Mark of the Mistress of the Winds, Akadi, and Rythannian bore it proudly, stubbornly.
As the party finally agreed to move out and seek Fairhill, a black bird flew away from the windowsill of the inn, returning to its master with its diabolical intelligence.
Very soon, the first battle for the Wizard’s Amulet would begin.
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Rythannian
First Post
The following is Eralion’s Letter found in the pouch with the amulet. Please keep in mind fellow adventures that to the displeasure of some this has never been shared in game... The Amulet "sought me out" I have never said anymore or any less...
Eralion's Letter:
My Dear Feriblan—
I must confess to you—my closest friend—that I was not entirely truthful
with you at our last meeting. I feel compelled now to tell you of it,
as this may be the last time I write with mortal hands. Do you recall
our discussion some months past regarding liches and how users of the
arcane arts might achieve that particular state? I must admit to you
that the topic for me was not entirely scholarly, as I led you to believe.
And for that I am sorry.
I know that you, my friend, have gazed into darkness in the name of
knowledge. That is why I sought your learned counsel. For I too have
gazed into darkness. And like you, I found knowledge—knowledge beyond
imagining. From the demon-lord Orcus himself I have wrested the
secret to lichdom, and I plan to move beyond scholarly talk and bring
myself immortality. Imagine it, my friend! An eternity to study the arts,
to master arcane power!
As I pen these words I have arrayed before me unguents and phials,
instruments and tomes, all necessary for my transformation, save only
one—an arcane phylactery of elaborate design. The ingredients for that
item will bring me once again to your city. By the time you read this
letter, I shall have retrieved the necessary items and shall be on my way
back to my keep.
Yet, as I begin to prepare my mind for my wondrous fate, my thoughts
turn to you, my oldest friend. Accompanying this missive there is a
small silk pouch. In that pouch is an amulet—an amulet I have created
for you. I know of your thirst for knowledge. With this amulet, you will
have access to my keep where I shall reside in immortality. If you wish
to learn that which I have learned, you may visit me.
Long have others of our kind called you “mad.” Perhaps it is I whom
they will now call mad. But I do not care for their appellations. Let
them say what they will. I have won something far greater than words—
I have won immortality, and with it, power. I shall share that knowledge
with you, my friend. Visit me soon. Gaze into the darkness again.
Eralion
-last know to be possesed by Rythannian... but only by Rythannian![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Eralion's Letter:
My Dear Feriblan—
I must confess to you—my closest friend—that I was not entirely truthful
with you at our last meeting. I feel compelled now to tell you of it,
as this may be the last time I write with mortal hands. Do you recall
our discussion some months past regarding liches and how users of the
arcane arts might achieve that particular state? I must admit to you
that the topic for me was not entirely scholarly, as I led you to believe.
And for that I am sorry.
I know that you, my friend, have gazed into darkness in the name of
knowledge. That is why I sought your learned counsel. For I too have
gazed into darkness. And like you, I found knowledge—knowledge beyond
imagining. From the demon-lord Orcus himself I have wrested the
secret to lichdom, and I plan to move beyond scholarly talk and bring
myself immortality. Imagine it, my friend! An eternity to study the arts,
to master arcane power!
As I pen these words I have arrayed before me unguents and phials,
instruments and tomes, all necessary for my transformation, save only
one—an arcane phylactery of elaborate design. The ingredients for that
item will bring me once again to your city. By the time you read this
letter, I shall have retrieved the necessary items and shall be on my way
back to my keep.
Yet, as I begin to prepare my mind for my wondrous fate, my thoughts
turn to you, my oldest friend. Accompanying this missive there is a
small silk pouch. In that pouch is an amulet—an amulet I have created
for you. I know of your thirst for knowledge. With this amulet, you will
have access to my keep where I shall reside in immortality. If you wish
to learn that which I have learned, you may visit me.
Long have others of our kind called you “mad.” Perhaps it is I whom
they will now call mad. But I do not care for their appellations. Let
them say what they will. I have won something far greater than words—
I have won immortality, and with it, power. I shall share that knowledge
with you, my friend. Visit me soon. Gaze into the darkness again.
Eralion
-last know to be possesed by Rythannian... but only by Rythannian
The Wizard's Amulet, Part II
After several days of rain-drenched travel, a couple members of the party began muttering amongst themselves, doubting the purpose of their new adventure. Oh sure, Rythannian’s promises of riches “in an abandoned wizard’s tower” were enticing back in the comforts of the city of Reme, but here in the cold, muddy, and miserable wilderness, they didn’t have the same allure they had had just a few long days ago. Kos Fargost, for one, began muttering quite loudly to anyone who seemed to have a sympathetic ear.
“I would gladly trade your promises for dry clothes, a warm fire, and a frothy mug of ale, oh mysterious one,” said the Dwarven warrior, gesturing with a stick at the robed and hooded young wizard Rythannian. “Let’s hear more about this tower now. I am beginning to think this a waste of time!” Kos shook his head, his water-logged beard and hair spraying everyone who made the mistake of sitting next to him. Under the relative cover of the eaves of the trees, the sudden spray of water over his companions was like a shaggy dog coming in from outside and shaking his coat all over his master’s dry, clean house. Very annoying.
Rythannian, always hooded, with usually just a wisp of his hair dangling just past the shadowy silouette of his face, turned partly to face the rugged Dwarf, but still said nothing. His eyes glittered though, in the shadows, as he stared through Kos, making the Dwarf most uncomfortable. But still he said nothing, and Kos finally lowered his muttering to an inaudible whisper.
And as he had done for the last several nights when the companions camped, the mysterious wizard avoided direct questions about their destination. The only source of information was the archer Phadian Gess, who claimed to be from the Fairhill area, and had lived most of his life there until just several months ago. He said he knew of the forest where Rythannian had said the tower was located, but according to local legend, the forest was haunted, and few travelled into it. Even fewer returned.
The party awoke the next morning to a welcome sight. The storm that had dogged them since leaving Reme had passed, leaving a pleasant view of the countryside. To the east the edge of the Stoneheart Forest went as far as the eyes could see. To the west, parallel to the companions’ course, the Great Gelving River, called by locals the Graywash, cut through the land. Between the river and the forest, the kingdom’s main road, the Tradeway, passed from Reme north into the distance. The companions looked askance to Rythannian, questioning again his decision to not take the road. The previous days, the storm had seemed a good excuse, as the party stayed under the eaves of the western edge of the forest. But their progress had been slow, and still cold and miserable.
“We would make better time on the road,” admitted Phadian. “The Tradeway goes right into the heart of the Waymarch, the region around Fairhill. We might even see some fellow travellers and hear some news.”
At the mention of fellow travellers, Rythannian flinched. His hood scanned to the lands to the south and west, but he said only, “No, we stay on our present course.” And he picked up his pack and began marching north.
The rest of the group began arguing heatedly.
“He is hiding something! Bah!” shouted Kos. “WE follow HIM?”
“Road or rocks? What’s the difference?” pondered Rocbul, scratching his head unconcerned. His simple attire suggested he had slept on plenty of rocks and dirt in his life.
The paladin Parkadius was more diplomatic. “I think he wants to be trusted, but just does not know how to get his point across to us yet. I think we should follow his way for now, but gently try to get more of the story from him before we reach Fairhill.”
“That sounds wise,” said Phadian, “but I think we should prepare another plan just in case.”
The usually silent Galdar spoke up in defense of Rythannian. “I know a little bit more about where we are going, and feel guilty about any deception on his or my part. But it is up to him to tell the tale behind this adventure, not me. I can only assure that the will of the God of Justice is going to be followed here, and I am going to see it through. We should follow him until he is ready to open up to us.”
“If you say so, priest, then I will stick by the two of you and see justice is done,” said Parkadius.
The others more or less agreed, although Kos was still upset about the situation. But the group marched after Rythannian, the paladin and the priest leading the way.
That night, around the campfire, it seemed the patience was being rewarded. Rythannian asked the companions to gather around, and he spoke with soft, but articulate words. He lowered his hood and the party saw him clearly for the first time. Though there was no wind that night, his hair seemed to be caught up in a light breeze. His words were more confident than his manner, which was shy and hesitant. He related for the first time to the entire group his story. If not the whole truth, at least most of it.......
After several days of rain-drenched travel, a couple members of the party began muttering amongst themselves, doubting the purpose of their new adventure. Oh sure, Rythannian’s promises of riches “in an abandoned wizard’s tower” were enticing back in the comforts of the city of Reme, but here in the cold, muddy, and miserable wilderness, they didn’t have the same allure they had had just a few long days ago. Kos Fargost, for one, began muttering quite loudly to anyone who seemed to have a sympathetic ear.
“I would gladly trade your promises for dry clothes, a warm fire, and a frothy mug of ale, oh mysterious one,” said the Dwarven warrior, gesturing with a stick at the robed and hooded young wizard Rythannian. “Let’s hear more about this tower now. I am beginning to think this a waste of time!” Kos shook his head, his water-logged beard and hair spraying everyone who made the mistake of sitting next to him. Under the relative cover of the eaves of the trees, the sudden spray of water over his companions was like a shaggy dog coming in from outside and shaking his coat all over his master’s dry, clean house. Very annoying.
Rythannian, always hooded, with usually just a wisp of his hair dangling just past the shadowy silouette of his face, turned partly to face the rugged Dwarf, but still said nothing. His eyes glittered though, in the shadows, as he stared through Kos, making the Dwarf most uncomfortable. But still he said nothing, and Kos finally lowered his muttering to an inaudible whisper.
And as he had done for the last several nights when the companions camped, the mysterious wizard avoided direct questions about their destination. The only source of information was the archer Phadian Gess, who claimed to be from the Fairhill area, and had lived most of his life there until just several months ago. He said he knew of the forest where Rythannian had said the tower was located, but according to local legend, the forest was haunted, and few travelled into it. Even fewer returned.
The party awoke the next morning to a welcome sight. The storm that had dogged them since leaving Reme had passed, leaving a pleasant view of the countryside. To the east the edge of the Stoneheart Forest went as far as the eyes could see. To the west, parallel to the companions’ course, the Great Gelving River, called by locals the Graywash, cut through the land. Between the river and the forest, the kingdom’s main road, the Tradeway, passed from Reme north into the distance. The companions looked askance to Rythannian, questioning again his decision to not take the road. The previous days, the storm had seemed a good excuse, as the party stayed under the eaves of the western edge of the forest. But their progress had been slow, and still cold and miserable.
“We would make better time on the road,” admitted Phadian. “The Tradeway goes right into the heart of the Waymarch, the region around Fairhill. We might even see some fellow travellers and hear some news.”
At the mention of fellow travellers, Rythannian flinched. His hood scanned to the lands to the south and west, but he said only, “No, we stay on our present course.” And he picked up his pack and began marching north.
The rest of the group began arguing heatedly.
“He is hiding something! Bah!” shouted Kos. “WE follow HIM?”
“Road or rocks? What’s the difference?” pondered Rocbul, scratching his head unconcerned. His simple attire suggested he had slept on plenty of rocks and dirt in his life.
The paladin Parkadius was more diplomatic. “I think he wants to be trusted, but just does not know how to get his point across to us yet. I think we should follow his way for now, but gently try to get more of the story from him before we reach Fairhill.”
“That sounds wise,” said Phadian, “but I think we should prepare another plan just in case.”
The usually silent Galdar spoke up in defense of Rythannian. “I know a little bit more about where we are going, and feel guilty about any deception on his or my part. But it is up to him to tell the tale behind this adventure, not me. I can only assure that the will of the God of Justice is going to be followed here, and I am going to see it through. We should follow him until he is ready to open up to us.”
“If you say so, priest, then I will stick by the two of you and see justice is done,” said Parkadius.
The others more or less agreed, although Kos was still upset about the situation. But the group marched after Rythannian, the paladin and the priest leading the way.
That night, around the campfire, it seemed the patience was being rewarded. Rythannian asked the companions to gather around, and he spoke with soft, but articulate words. He lowered his hood and the party saw him clearly for the first time. Though there was no wind that night, his hair seemed to be caught up in a light breeze. His words were more confident than his manner, which was shy and hesitant. He related for the first time to the entire group his story. If not the whole truth, at least most of it.......
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