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Message: <blockquote data-quote="MulhorandSage" data-source="post: 646856" data-attributes="member: 751">22nd day of Uktar, in the Year of the Standing Stone, 1372. In the shadow of the Death That GrowsDear Sister,Though mere days have passed since my last correspondence, it somehow seems much longer to me. A brief letter now, to prompt thy memory, and then we shall speak of the Pool of Radiance - and the three humiliations we suffered there - in greater detail some other time.###Meanwhile, in the marketplace of Saerloon, Ulrick is again displaying the two wands of curing wounds that he just purchased and is grinning like the idiot he is, boasting how much more cost effective they are. Actually, any good Sembian would agree with his assessment, of course, but I'm hardly in an agreeable mood."You do realize that if you die, they'll be useless to us," I point out."Then I guess you'll have to keep me alive," Ulrick answers."Judging from past experience, that's a task beyond mortal ken," I reply. The sarcasm washes off his skin like rain, as always. I hate that.We proceed to the wine shop which holds the portal network we found - aware that we're being followed as we enter the doorway. Fearful of Orc guards, we scurry past the nexus and into the portal that leads to the shrine to Mystryl. Surprisingly, no one ambushes us on the way.The shrine itself is trapped with dark magicks and ugly glyphs that hover in the air like twisted, charred hummingbirds. Carefully, I speak words of magic to counterspell them, and gradually, a rune at a time, the ancient spiritual bastion of the goddess is cleansed. All except for one rune, which is beyond my power to erase, though we can walk around it easily enough.Ulrick slaps me on the back and the chain mail coif he wears is lit up by a too-handsome smile. "Good work. Ascarin,' he says, in the condescending manner of an elder mate at wizard's school upon seeing a spell-addled apprentice cast his first cantrip. He can keep his praise for worthier deeds.We reach a stone stair that leads out of the enclosure. I send Willhih, my weasel companion, up the stairs to scout. I instruct him to do so quietly and not attract attention. Unfortunately, when he sees the two guards standing over the exit with drawn swords, he panicks. The weasel nimbly dodges a sword-thrust and runs down the stairs, diving into my cloak and burrowing into it frantically. The poor thing is such a coward - much, as it pains me to admit it, like his master. Fortunately, when I have two such doughty companions as Ulrick and Aron, courage is rarely a necessity. The two howling sword-wavers rush up the stairs, quickly dispatch the guard, then give chase to her companion - the guard who fled for reinforcements.We're forced to leave Aron, languishing in his armor of sluggardness far behind us, and Ulrick finally gets a good crossbow shot into the guard's back. Kord would have been proud. The sentry grabs his back out of instinct, realizes he's running with an arrow stuck firmly between the shoulder blades, and panicks. Ulrick readies a second shot - which isn't necessary. for a tree suddenly grabs the guard around the throat, hoists him upward, and breaks his neck.Friendly shrubbery. How wonderful."Well!" a gnome says, suddenly scuttling out of the underbrush. His bright eyes (do all gnomes have bright eyes?) shine in suprise. "You aren't the Dragon's Men!""Indeed we are not!" Ulrick says, introducing us. "It's a pleasure to meet such a distinguished looking forest gnome...""Forest?" I smile, mocking him with both glance and word. "He looks more like a lone gnome to me."The gnome narrows his eyes at me, but continues. It's a good thing you came." he says. "I'm a lone gnome alright, but I wasn't always - unfortunately the Dragons have got him... he's a prisoner at their tower.""Who?" Ulrick asked."There isn't time for that," the gnome says shakily. "The Dragons - Cult of the Dragon, you call them - they're draining magic items. They're using them at the Pool of Radiance. They're trying to spoil the Weave!""What!" I say. I admit that I am no hero - not an Ulrick - but even I can hear the clarion call of necessity ,and I know when I'm required to risk my life for the greater good. I know it and hate it, it's a curse."So where are we?" Ulrick asks. The gnome points to a huge forest in the distance - a wood that's so thick and so tall that it appears like a black shadow on the horizon, rising above the hills."Myth Drannor," the gnome says, and I suddenly feel the urge to vomit. Myth Drannor! Admittedly the wealth it contains - and the lore! - are an almost irresistible siren call, but I know enough about the demonic creatures who abide in that accursed wood, long abandoned by the elves, including a dracolich (which goes a long way toward explaining Ulrick's dream) to know that I never want to go there until I get very very much more powerful."You do realize we're dead men, don't you?" I tell Ulrick. He ignores me."And there's other problems beside," the gnome says. "There's also the matter of the corpse!""What corpse?" Aron asks. The gnome's already in motion, and we follow (nearly leaving Aron behind again). What the gnome takes us to is a badly bloodied thing, clad in forest green and brown raiment, a broken bow at his side in the underbrush, his fingers quivering. He's still alive. The gnome flips the body over, and I begin to laugh."You do us ill, forestling, to show us this sight!" I mock. "This is truly the ugliest and most disgusting corpse I've ever seen!"It's Kord.###And so, having reunited with that insufferable insane elf, we begin our walk toward the certain death that is called Myth Drannor. And that's where we'll leave it for now.Oh, and don't wear out your current boyfriend so quickly.With affection,Your loving brother,Ascarin Nevermoon</blockquote>

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