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Explorer
53—All games have players, but not all players have game
Taran sits with Jhanira, holding her hands. “Jhanira, I need you to come on in out of the cold. I need you to jump on the team, and come on in for the big win.”
“You know I can’t stand it when you talk in clichés. It means you want something.” Jhanira removes her hands and places them in her lap. “You should go.”
“Okay,” Taran says. “I’ll go. But about that other thing. I’m in love with her, Jhanira.”
“I don’t care. This is not my concern any longer.”
“Okay, then. I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is.”
“I won’t be around much,”
“I guess you won’t”
“And, uh . . . don’t sleep with Juron or Glim.”
“What?”
“Trust me, they’re just no good. They’re a pair of lyin’ backstabbin’ drunks, the both of ‘em, and they’ll just treat you cruel.”
“Do you really think you can barge in here toss around a few clichés and start making demands, Taran?”
“Don’t think of it as a demand, just think of it as really good advice.”
“I can’t believe you! You’re jealous that your followers might get their hands on something you’ve had. That’s so small, Taran. That is a really puny thing to say.”
“No, no—not all my followers, just them two.”
“What, are you afraid they’ll show you up? Are you afraid they’ll be more man than you?”
“That’s a laugh.”
“You are such an egotist.”
Taran jumps to his feet, his cheeks flushed. “Egotist!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth. “Does an egotist risk his life thousands of feet below the earth,” Taran stabs his finger at Jhanira to punctuate his words, “just to . . . keep . . . you . . . safe?” Taran rips open his shirt to reveal scars along his chest. “Does an egotist fight three f--king dragons –- three! –- or cast a spell to save his friends even though he was surrounded by gigantic four armed carnivorous fiendish gorillas and knew he was going to be killed! Huh?”
“Giant four-armed . . .? What on earth are you screaming about?”
“Well? Does an egotist stay out for days at a time on long-range patrols just to make sure your fat ass is safefromthef--kingdrow? Huh?”
Taran glares at Jhanira, his eyes wide and his breathing labored.
“My what?” she says softly as she stands up.
-----
Thelbar and Kyreel are looking over maps of Faerun, discussing possible places to relocate the church. Kyreel asks about to the high forest, and Palatin Eremath’s lost temple there.
“It is still overrun by the fiendish elves,” Thelbar says. “Still, the High Forest might make a suitable home for us.”
“I wonder, what about Gorquen? Wasn’t she adventuring in the north?” Kyreel asks.
Thelbar scrys Gorquen, and sees her standing inside a large stone room, talking with another elf neither heroes recognize. “We could teleport to her, and see what she knows about all of this,” Thelbar suggests.
“Shall we wait for Taran?” Kyreel asks.
Just then, Taran’s voice is heard, faintly and at a great distance. His words are unclear, but his emotional state is not. He is screaming.
“I think we’ll leave him here,” Thelbar says.
A few moments later, Taran and Kyreel are standing in front of Gorquen. Startled by their sudden appearance, she draws her sword, but sheathes it at once. “Thelbar! Kyreel!” she exclaims. “You have need of my blade! I’ll prepare at once!”
“No, no, my dear,” Kyreel says. “We are here at peace.”
“Or something resembling it for the moment,” Thelbar says.
Gorquen introduces her companion as Ilwe, an archer-priest of Solonor Thelandira, elven god of warfare, knowledge and stealth. After formalities are exchanged, Thelbar briefs Gorquen on the recent happenings; she, in turn, tells her friends about her doings since last they met:
-----
After leading the faithful of Palatin Eremath from Undermountain, Gorquen helped them establish the church at Waterdeep, and learned many of the same things about her goddess’ history that the Dalelands-based adventurers came to know. She received visions from the goddess, and followed them to the Far Forest, just east of the High Forest, the former center for the lost elven kingdom of Earlann. Along the way, she met Ilwe, called to the area by similar divine sendings.
They encountered a wandering drow cleric of Lolth, no less than Alardia Banare, the daughter of the matron mother herself! After defeating her, Gorquen attempted to slay the foul priestess, but found her hand was stayed by some unseen force. Ilwe, thinking his companion’s hesitation to be misplaced compassion, moved to kill the woman, but was also mysteriously held back.
The drow regaled her captors with tales of debauched cruelty, but could not force them to kill her. Crying, the pitiful drow confessed that she was on the run from her kin, and had taken to the surface hoping to evade them. It seems that after a cruel ritual involving a fallen human paladin, the priestess had become pregnant, and it was at that time she lost her ability to regain spells. Thinking, wrongly, that she had offended Lolth somehow, and reasoning correctly that her sisters would murder her in her moment of weakness, she fled her city and became a wanderer. By the time the adventurers found her, she had grown desperate and suicidal. Like her captors, she had been unable to take her own life, and had hoped her vile litany would provoke them into performing the deed.
Death By Adventurer.
The duo keep their captive with them, and arrive at an ancient complex, nestled in the base of the Star Mountains. There, they encountered fiendish elves, no doubt kin to the ones Taran and Thelbar fought months ago while raising the goddess’ star. Gorquen names these elves as the lost house Dlardrageth. After many battles with the fiendish elves, she was able to learn the sad tale of Tar-Elentyr, a fallen elf seduced, and eventually betrayed by demons.
Tar-Elentyr was at one time a mortal elf. He was the greatest Divine Champion to Palatin Eremath before she was slain, and was the war leader of her followers. He served under the direct command of the celestial entity Scaladar, one of the “first made”, the immortal race which was the precursor to elves in the heart of the elven pantheon.
When Palatin Eremath fought in the Kin-Wars, Scaladar was at her side, and when she was struck down, he went mad with grief, and cursed the elven father-god Corellon Larethian for a murderer. Corellon struck Scaladar from the heavens, and banished his soul to the abyss. But Scaladar was too strong to be destroyed, and in time, he came to embrace his prison, and grow to power there. At this time, Scaladar began to think again on the mortal realm.
Tar-Elentyr, meanwhile, had sworn vengeance on Corellon Larethian, and all his worldly followers. He had spent out his long elven life waging an increasingly desperate war for revenge, but had not seen much success. His bitterness and loss primed him for the now-demonic touch of Scaladar, and when his former master called him back to service, Tar-Elentyr sold his soul.
He fell to the worship of Scaladar, and was given the charge of an abyssal horde, which he bred with his elven followers. This mixed-blood army grew strong, and eventually laid siege to the temple city of Myth-Iskok, the former center of Palatin Eremath’s worship, now a place taboo to the elves.
When Palatin Eremath was killed, Corellon ordered her sacred places pulled down, and those that could not be destroyed were sealed and guarded by his first-made. Myth-Iskok was such a place, and had been kept hidden from the world since the goddess’ fall. Tar-Elentyr breached the seal, but whatever he found within was too much for him. He retreated, and over the next age was eventually beaten by the followers of Corellon Larethian and the armies of Earlann.
But their victory was costly, and weakened Earlann so badly that when Hellgate Keep was opened, the elven kingdom was doomed. Earlann fell, and its elves entered the retreat, never again to be seen in Faerun.
Gorquen and Ilwe found Tar-Elentyr in the dungeons beneath this place, brooding on his failures and gnawing at his bitterness like a rag-toy. Gorquen challenged the fallen Champion, and defeated him in honorable combat.
“I saw myself in him,” Gorquen says. “His fighting style, his carriage, and even in the intensity of his dedication. That it would bring him so low to love his goddess so much . . . I was greatly moved. I knew then and there that I must become a Divine Champion to our goddess, and could only do so through victory. Ishlok invested my hand, and I triumphed.”
As he lay dying, Tar-Elentyr begged Gorquen to tell him how such a one such as she could have defeated him. She replied that it was not her will, but that of Palatin Eremath that laid him low. Upon hearing the name of his former goddess, Tar-Elentyr wept, and called out that if she truly lived again, he would do anything to be reunited with her. Gorquen gave him the knowledge of the pasoun and the teachings of the Risen Goddess. Then and there, Tar-Elentyr committed his soul to Ishlok, entered the pasoun, and lived no more.
“I am not ashamed to say that I cried to see it,” Gorquen says. “He was misguided, and committed many evil deeds, but I pray for his soul every day that he may one day return to his former glory, and aid our side in the conflicts to come.”
“Ishlok be praised,” Kyreel says. “Her ways are great, and she forgets not her children.”
“We discovered a remarkable thing in the chambers beneath this place,” Gorquen says. “A lone tree grows—a tree of magnificent proportion in a place void of sun or sky. It speaks to me, and has shown great knowledge of our faith, and the goddess’ ways. It is a paragon treant, abandoned here since the time of the Kin-Wars, patiently awaiting its goddess’ return.
“I call it the Sage tree,” she says blushing, “as I cannot pronounce its name. It was shortly after I defeated Tar-Elentyr that the spark shower occurred, and I clearly heard the sage tree speaking. It said, ‘Praise be Palatin Eremath, Arunshee is reborn’.”
“Gods above,” Thelbar mutters. “Sharlequannan is Arunshee. Lolth has entered the pasoun!”
Taran sits with Jhanira, holding her hands. “Jhanira, I need you to come on in out of the cold. I need you to jump on the team, and come on in for the big win.”
“You know I can’t stand it when you talk in clichés. It means you want something.” Jhanira removes her hands and places them in her lap. “You should go.”
“Okay,” Taran says. “I’ll go. But about that other thing. I’m in love with her, Jhanira.”
“I don’t care. This is not my concern any longer.”
“Okay, then. I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is.”
“I won’t be around much,”
“I guess you won’t”
“And, uh . . . don’t sleep with Juron or Glim.”
“What?”
“Trust me, they’re just no good. They’re a pair of lyin’ backstabbin’ drunks, the both of ‘em, and they’ll just treat you cruel.”
“Do you really think you can barge in here toss around a few clichés and start making demands, Taran?”
“Don’t think of it as a demand, just think of it as really good advice.”
“I can’t believe you! You’re jealous that your followers might get their hands on something you’ve had. That’s so small, Taran. That is a really puny thing to say.”
“No, no—not all my followers, just them two.”
“What, are you afraid they’ll show you up? Are you afraid they’ll be more man than you?”
“That’s a laugh.”
“You are such an egotist.”
Taran jumps to his feet, his cheeks flushed. “Egotist!” he screams, spittle flying from his mouth. “Does an egotist risk his life thousands of feet below the earth,” Taran stabs his finger at Jhanira to punctuate his words, “just to . . . keep . . . you . . . safe?” Taran rips open his shirt to reveal scars along his chest. “Does an egotist fight three f--king dragons –- three! –- or cast a spell to save his friends even though he was surrounded by gigantic four armed carnivorous fiendish gorillas and knew he was going to be killed! Huh?”
“Giant four-armed . . .? What on earth are you screaming about?”
“Well? Does an egotist stay out for days at a time on long-range patrols just to make sure your fat ass is safefromthef--kingdrow? Huh?”
Taran glares at Jhanira, his eyes wide and his breathing labored.
“My what?” she says softly as she stands up.
-----
Thelbar and Kyreel are looking over maps of Faerun, discussing possible places to relocate the church. Kyreel asks about to the high forest, and Palatin Eremath’s lost temple there.
“It is still overrun by the fiendish elves,” Thelbar says. “Still, the High Forest might make a suitable home for us.”
“I wonder, what about Gorquen? Wasn’t she adventuring in the north?” Kyreel asks.
Thelbar scrys Gorquen, and sees her standing inside a large stone room, talking with another elf neither heroes recognize. “We could teleport to her, and see what she knows about all of this,” Thelbar suggests.
“Shall we wait for Taran?” Kyreel asks.
Just then, Taran’s voice is heard, faintly and at a great distance. His words are unclear, but his emotional state is not. He is screaming.
“I think we’ll leave him here,” Thelbar says.
A few moments later, Taran and Kyreel are standing in front of Gorquen. Startled by their sudden appearance, she draws her sword, but sheathes it at once. “Thelbar! Kyreel!” she exclaims. “You have need of my blade! I’ll prepare at once!”
“No, no, my dear,” Kyreel says. “We are here at peace.”
“Or something resembling it for the moment,” Thelbar says.
Gorquen introduces her companion as Ilwe, an archer-priest of Solonor Thelandira, elven god of warfare, knowledge and stealth. After formalities are exchanged, Thelbar briefs Gorquen on the recent happenings; she, in turn, tells her friends about her doings since last they met:
-----
After leading the faithful of Palatin Eremath from Undermountain, Gorquen helped them establish the church at Waterdeep, and learned many of the same things about her goddess’ history that the Dalelands-based adventurers came to know. She received visions from the goddess, and followed them to the Far Forest, just east of the High Forest, the former center for the lost elven kingdom of Earlann. Along the way, she met Ilwe, called to the area by similar divine sendings.
They encountered a wandering drow cleric of Lolth, no less than Alardia Banare, the daughter of the matron mother herself! After defeating her, Gorquen attempted to slay the foul priestess, but found her hand was stayed by some unseen force. Ilwe, thinking his companion’s hesitation to be misplaced compassion, moved to kill the woman, but was also mysteriously held back.
The drow regaled her captors with tales of debauched cruelty, but could not force them to kill her. Crying, the pitiful drow confessed that she was on the run from her kin, and had taken to the surface hoping to evade them. It seems that after a cruel ritual involving a fallen human paladin, the priestess had become pregnant, and it was at that time she lost her ability to regain spells. Thinking, wrongly, that she had offended Lolth somehow, and reasoning correctly that her sisters would murder her in her moment of weakness, she fled her city and became a wanderer. By the time the adventurers found her, she had grown desperate and suicidal. Like her captors, she had been unable to take her own life, and had hoped her vile litany would provoke them into performing the deed.
Death By Adventurer.
The duo keep their captive with them, and arrive at an ancient complex, nestled in the base of the Star Mountains. There, they encountered fiendish elves, no doubt kin to the ones Taran and Thelbar fought months ago while raising the goddess’ star. Gorquen names these elves as the lost house Dlardrageth. After many battles with the fiendish elves, she was able to learn the sad tale of Tar-Elentyr, a fallen elf seduced, and eventually betrayed by demons.
Tar-Elentyr was at one time a mortal elf. He was the greatest Divine Champion to Palatin Eremath before she was slain, and was the war leader of her followers. He served under the direct command of the celestial entity Scaladar, one of the “first made”, the immortal race which was the precursor to elves in the heart of the elven pantheon.
When Palatin Eremath fought in the Kin-Wars, Scaladar was at her side, and when she was struck down, he went mad with grief, and cursed the elven father-god Corellon Larethian for a murderer. Corellon struck Scaladar from the heavens, and banished his soul to the abyss. But Scaladar was too strong to be destroyed, and in time, he came to embrace his prison, and grow to power there. At this time, Scaladar began to think again on the mortal realm.
Tar-Elentyr, meanwhile, had sworn vengeance on Corellon Larethian, and all his worldly followers. He had spent out his long elven life waging an increasingly desperate war for revenge, but had not seen much success. His bitterness and loss primed him for the now-demonic touch of Scaladar, and when his former master called him back to service, Tar-Elentyr sold his soul.
He fell to the worship of Scaladar, and was given the charge of an abyssal horde, which he bred with his elven followers. This mixed-blood army grew strong, and eventually laid siege to the temple city of Myth-Iskok, the former center of Palatin Eremath’s worship, now a place taboo to the elves.
When Palatin Eremath was killed, Corellon ordered her sacred places pulled down, and those that could not be destroyed were sealed and guarded by his first-made. Myth-Iskok was such a place, and had been kept hidden from the world since the goddess’ fall. Tar-Elentyr breached the seal, but whatever he found within was too much for him. He retreated, and over the next age was eventually beaten by the followers of Corellon Larethian and the armies of Earlann.
But their victory was costly, and weakened Earlann so badly that when Hellgate Keep was opened, the elven kingdom was doomed. Earlann fell, and its elves entered the retreat, never again to be seen in Faerun.
Gorquen and Ilwe found Tar-Elentyr in the dungeons beneath this place, brooding on his failures and gnawing at his bitterness like a rag-toy. Gorquen challenged the fallen Champion, and defeated him in honorable combat.
“I saw myself in him,” Gorquen says. “His fighting style, his carriage, and even in the intensity of his dedication. That it would bring him so low to love his goddess so much . . . I was greatly moved. I knew then and there that I must become a Divine Champion to our goddess, and could only do so through victory. Ishlok invested my hand, and I triumphed.”
As he lay dying, Tar-Elentyr begged Gorquen to tell him how such a one such as she could have defeated him. She replied that it was not her will, but that of Palatin Eremath that laid him low. Upon hearing the name of his former goddess, Tar-Elentyr wept, and called out that if she truly lived again, he would do anything to be reunited with her. Gorquen gave him the knowledge of the pasoun and the teachings of the Risen Goddess. Then and there, Tar-Elentyr committed his soul to Ishlok, entered the pasoun, and lived no more.
“I am not ashamed to say that I cried to see it,” Gorquen says. “He was misguided, and committed many evil deeds, but I pray for his soul every day that he may one day return to his former glory, and aid our side in the conflicts to come.”
“Ishlok be praised,” Kyreel says. “Her ways are great, and she forgets not her children.”
“We discovered a remarkable thing in the chambers beneath this place,” Gorquen says. “A lone tree grows—a tree of magnificent proportion in a place void of sun or sky. It speaks to me, and has shown great knowledge of our faith, and the goddess’ ways. It is a paragon treant, abandoned here since the time of the Kin-Wars, patiently awaiting its goddess’ return.
“I call it the Sage tree,” she says blushing, “as I cannot pronounce its name. It was shortly after I defeated Tar-Elentyr that the spark shower occurred, and I clearly heard the sage tree speaking. It said, ‘Praise be Palatin Eremath, Arunshee is reborn’.”
“Gods above,” Thelbar mutters. “Sharlequannan is Arunshee. Lolth has entered the pasoun!”
