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Story Hour
Cormyr: The Smile of Chauntea
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<blockquote data-quote="MulhorandSage" data-source="post: 833266" data-attributes="member: 751"><p><strong><em>Spoilers for Pool of Radiance: Attack on Myth Drannor by Sean K. Reynolds</em></strong></p><p></p><p>Continued from last correspondence:</p><p></p><p>Somewhat to our relief, the baelnorm explained that the burden of the world's fate would not rest entirely on the competance of our little company. The larger and more powerful adventuring company that Ryngoth had mentioned in his journal had been recruited by the baelnorm - eternal protector of Myth Drannor, the poor bastard - and was about to launch an assault on the dracolich.</p><p></p><p>"You actually found fools who were willing to accept that job?" Kord wondered aloud.</p><p></p><p>The baelnorm treated the remark and its speaker as they deserved - by ignoring them with utter contempt. The air seemed to chill as it spoke, as we found ourselves more firmly wrapped into its designs - I've heard that the drow, to alleviate their perpetual boredom, breed fighting apiders and place them on a web and wager on which one will survive - and now I knew exactly how those spiders must feel. We were about to be placed on a very big web with very large spiders.</p><p></p><p>"When the dracolich is slain, its spirit will be transferred into a phylactery, and their deeds will be for nought," the baelnorm explained. "But if at the moment of transfer, the phylactery were destroyed before it could find a replacement body... then the dracolich would be forever dead."</p><p></p><p>"And then the threat to Cornyr from the Cult would be ended!" Ulrick said.</p><p></p><p>"And the Weave would be safeguarded!" I proclaimed.</p><p></p><p>"And although we're almost certain to die in the process, if by some miracle we survived, we'd be rich!" Kord declared. I could swear the baelnorm gave him a dirty look.</p><p></p><p>The Baelnorm gave me the code-words for the bone scepter - a powerful if distasteful item - and instructions on how to reach a refuge into Myth Drannor itself. We were directed to take the one long passage that we found under the crypt that led to Cormanthor. Once we arrived, we'd seek a predetermined refuge. There the badly injured Aron could rest on healing moss while I <strong>finally</strong> replenished my spells.</p><p></p><p>Thus we now left the tower outside the Mythal for more dangerous confines. We crept down the long tunnel we'd discovered earlier that day - the one that Kord was so frightened would take us into the heart of Myth Drannor. The only things who watched us were rats, who scurried without purpose or malice over the loam-soaked floor. All the while, we were silent, knowing our dreadful purpose. Ulrick's right hand, empty of its weapon, periodically reached around his body and fingered the place in his backpack where the Book of Lathander was kept. It appeared to be an involuntary response, which I found quite troubling.</p><p></p><p>Finally, after time unspoken and unmeasured had past - for in the midst of any deed that the heart deems great, the importance of time is greatly diminished - the long tunnel abruptly shot upward, and we came to an old half-rotten wooden ladder that was embedded in the earth. The way above us was sealed, but Aron, hoisted on Ulrick's shoulders, managed to break through the seal, and we carefully shifted the rotten, earth-soaked timbers that sealed the exit and pushed them aside. Aron crawled out and told us the route was clear. This was something of an overstatement. Several shafts of waning sunlight peered through the window, warning us that we might be observed from beyond the walls.</p><p></p><p>"It looks like some sort of barracks." Aron observed. We were in a stone building with a solid wooden fram, an oak floor and numerous beds. They were all abandoned, and many of the bedframes had become a feast for termites.</p><p></p><p>"Kord, see what's outside," Ulrick instructed. The elven scout nodded, did a quick check through the windows, and when he spotted no one observing us, he opened the door and took a more thorough look. Once he was certain we were safe, he motioned us to quickly follow him.</p><p></p><p>And there it was. Castle Cormanthor, once the heart of the great realm of Myth Drannor and the center of elvendom on earth, now loomed ahead of us, a mile in the distance and yet all-too-close. Its ancient spires filled with an unspoken dread that belied their elven beauty. Its battlements zhot skyward like eagle's wings beneath a great shadow, its walls, aged and scarred, reflected only a pale reminder of what it must have been, the citadel of elven moonlight, a glorious mystery reduced to an accursed ruin.</p><p></p><p>I suppose only Kord and I could appreciate what we saw, and Kord more than I, if his heart weren't so tightly governed by the mercenary impulse. We're in a large courtyard, and we quickly scuttle across and look for the opening to the baelnorm's sanctuary. Kord expected to find it easily, but somehow, I spot the opening and lead us through a curtain of ivy into a mossy den. </p><p></p><p>We're in a green cage, alit by moonlight and the subtle candle of stars. At the far end of the chamber is a raised bed of purple moss, whose healing properties were well proported by the baelnorm. Uneasily, Ulrick helps Aron slides out of his massive body sheathe of an armor, and sets the Wyvernspur's badly injiured body on the moss-bed. The lad needs it, as do we all - for without question, today has been the hardest day of my entire life. I've been closer to death more times in one day than even the average elf gets during their entire lifetime. Some day, provided that the remainder of our errand goes well, I will look back on this day and laugh, because -for a brief time - I lived a life when the drama surpassed the level of even hysterical melodreama and entered the realm of the absurd.</p><p></p><p>But reflection was best left until our errand was over. I fell asleep almost as soon as I close my eyes.</p><p></p><p>I awaken with shafts of morning breaking through the ivy, and the chamber lit by its own dawn's light: Ulrick has the book of Lathander on his lap and is stooped over like a monk, transfixed by the gods' own pages. Again, I'm disturbed by the sight. I love lore, and will pry into the far corners of the world to seek it, but man should be lore's master, lore should not be the master of men.</p><p></p><p>And then, jubilantly but perhaps hypocritically, I prepare my spell arsenal for the coming battle. I start a discussion of our battle tactics, but the others (quite correctly) advise me to wait until after our final instructions from the baelnorm. Kord decides to give us an incredibly inspired speech on how noble we're being, and how we should feel honored to be walking into certain death and dying for such a glorious cause. I openly ridicule him. "What kind of fool are you?" I sneer. I don't deny that a certain fatalism is among my qualities, but "inspiration through recognition of one's purpose" is a farce of extraordinary measure, "I have absolutely no intention of dying today, or any day in the foreseeable future." The other agree, even Aron (which, of course, worries me). Kord sighs and looks at us like a pack of dumb children refusing to listen to the august wisdom of a sage among sages. Which he most certainly is not. We continue to argue the point until the baelnorm arrives.</p><p></p><p>The baelnorm congratulates us on our already impressive accomplishments and then briefs us on the castle's layout. After being given advice on how to infiltrate the gate, There is a ground level, and three subterrtanean levels. We were to enter the ground level.and proceed as quickly as possible to the subterranean level. The first level was an artificial elven skyline, which we should be able to infiltrate quickly until we found a secret door. That would take us down a set of stairs into the middle of a large cavern on the second level, which were patrolled on the north side by skeletons and on the south side by some sort of Dragon-Men; the description made them sound like half-dragons. We were instructed to avoid these patrols at all costs, travel northeast and look for another secret passage. There we would travel down to the lower level, where the dracolich's phylactery was kept under guard in a magical prison. There we would break through the prison and destroy the phylactery.</p><p></p><p>"So we destroy the phylactery in the Pool of Radiance?" Kord asked,</p><p></p><p>"No." the baelnorm told us. "Simply break it out of its prison and smash it. You will need magical protections. These I can provide, but they will be detecting magic on anyone who enters. So I will provide you with this..." he said, and a magical cream appeared. "Smear it over yourselves and your items and they will be hidden from their scrys."</p><p></p><p>"How do we escape?" It didn't take Kord to ask the ultimate in Kord questions.</p><p></p><p>"There is a tunnel branch on the far west side of the cavern, beyond the Pool. Take that, and it will lead to a sanctuary," the baelnorm explained. "Do not take the northernmost passage - that leafds to the dracolich."</p><p></p><p>We take a careful note of that statement, "Why don't we just take the escape passage and head there directly?" Kord asked.</p><p></p><p>Good question. "The passage leads through a Null-Magic Zone," the baelnorm explains. "You could not enter Cormanthor with any magical protections if you took that route."</p><p></p><p>That's a very convincing argument.</p><p></p><p>"And once we arrive down in the Pool of Radiance, we throw the phylactery into it?" Kord repeated, oblivious to the fact that the baelnorm had told us not to do that only ma minute earlier. Even Aron gives him a mystified look. Once again, Kord stubbornly refuses to accept any factual statement, however grand or trivial, that doesn't meet with his worldview.</p><p></p><p>The baelnorm departs, wishing us good fortune, leaving us with a great task and an immense weight. To infiltrate Castle Cormanthor, pass unseen amid the Sammasterite Cult, make our way to the bottom, destroy the dracolich's phylactery, and escape - hoping the other adventurers, whose names we don't even know, can slay the abomination. Otherwise, we'll have an adversary beyond imaging on our heads.</p><p></p><p>"That's it," Ulrick says, looking at each of us in turn. "Let's go."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="MulhorandSage, post: 833266, member: 751"] [b][i]Spoilers for Pool of Radiance: Attack on Myth Drannor by Sean K. Reynolds[/i][/b][i][/i] Continued from last correspondence: Somewhat to our relief, the baelnorm explained that the burden of the world's fate would not rest entirely on the competance of our little company. The larger and more powerful adventuring company that Ryngoth had mentioned in his journal had been recruited by the baelnorm - eternal protector of Myth Drannor, the poor bastard - and was about to launch an assault on the dracolich. "You actually found fools who were willing to accept that job?" Kord wondered aloud. The baelnorm treated the remark and its speaker as they deserved - by ignoring them with utter contempt. The air seemed to chill as it spoke, as we found ourselves more firmly wrapped into its designs - I've heard that the drow, to alleviate their perpetual boredom, breed fighting apiders and place them on a web and wager on which one will survive - and now I knew exactly how those spiders must feel. We were about to be placed on a very big web with very large spiders. "When the dracolich is slain, its spirit will be transferred into a phylactery, and their deeds will be for nought," the baelnorm explained. "But if at the moment of transfer, the phylactery were destroyed before it could find a replacement body... then the dracolich would be forever dead." "And then the threat to Cornyr from the Cult would be ended!" Ulrick said. "And the Weave would be safeguarded!" I proclaimed. "And although we're almost certain to die in the process, if by some miracle we survived, we'd be rich!" Kord declared. I could swear the baelnorm gave him a dirty look. The Baelnorm gave me the code-words for the bone scepter - a powerful if distasteful item - and instructions on how to reach a refuge into Myth Drannor itself. We were directed to take the one long passage that we found under the crypt that led to Cormanthor. Once we arrived, we'd seek a predetermined refuge. There the badly injured Aron could rest on healing moss while I [b]finally[/b] replenished my spells. Thus we now left the tower outside the Mythal for more dangerous confines. We crept down the long tunnel we'd discovered earlier that day - the one that Kord was so frightened would take us into the heart of Myth Drannor. The only things who watched us were rats, who scurried without purpose or malice over the loam-soaked floor. All the while, we were silent, knowing our dreadful purpose. Ulrick's right hand, empty of its weapon, periodically reached around his body and fingered the place in his backpack where the Book of Lathander was kept. It appeared to be an involuntary response, which I found quite troubling. Finally, after time unspoken and unmeasured had past - for in the midst of any deed that the heart deems great, the importance of time is greatly diminished - the long tunnel abruptly shot upward, and we came to an old half-rotten wooden ladder that was embedded in the earth. The way above us was sealed, but Aron, hoisted on Ulrick's shoulders, managed to break through the seal, and we carefully shifted the rotten, earth-soaked timbers that sealed the exit and pushed them aside. Aron crawled out and told us the route was clear. This was something of an overstatement. Several shafts of waning sunlight peered through the window, warning us that we might be observed from beyond the walls. "It looks like some sort of barracks." Aron observed. We were in a stone building with a solid wooden fram, an oak floor and numerous beds. They were all abandoned, and many of the bedframes had become a feast for termites. "Kord, see what's outside," Ulrick instructed. The elven scout nodded, did a quick check through the windows, and when he spotted no one observing us, he opened the door and took a more thorough look. Once he was certain we were safe, he motioned us to quickly follow him. And there it was. Castle Cormanthor, once the heart of the great realm of Myth Drannor and the center of elvendom on earth, now loomed ahead of us, a mile in the distance and yet all-too-close. Its ancient spires filled with an unspoken dread that belied their elven beauty. Its battlements zhot skyward like eagle's wings beneath a great shadow, its walls, aged and scarred, reflected only a pale reminder of what it must have been, the citadel of elven moonlight, a glorious mystery reduced to an accursed ruin. I suppose only Kord and I could appreciate what we saw, and Kord more than I, if his heart weren't so tightly governed by the mercenary impulse. We're in a large courtyard, and we quickly scuttle across and look for the opening to the baelnorm's sanctuary. Kord expected to find it easily, but somehow, I spot the opening and lead us through a curtain of ivy into a mossy den. We're in a green cage, alit by moonlight and the subtle candle of stars. At the far end of the chamber is a raised bed of purple moss, whose healing properties were well proported by the baelnorm. Uneasily, Ulrick helps Aron slides out of his massive body sheathe of an armor, and sets the Wyvernspur's badly injiured body on the moss-bed. The lad needs it, as do we all - for without question, today has been the hardest day of my entire life. I've been closer to death more times in one day than even the average elf gets during their entire lifetime. Some day, provided that the remainder of our errand goes well, I will look back on this day and laugh, because -for a brief time - I lived a life when the drama surpassed the level of even hysterical melodreama and entered the realm of the absurd. But reflection was best left until our errand was over. I fell asleep almost as soon as I close my eyes. I awaken with shafts of morning breaking through the ivy, and the chamber lit by its own dawn's light: Ulrick has the book of Lathander on his lap and is stooped over like a monk, transfixed by the gods' own pages. Again, I'm disturbed by the sight. I love lore, and will pry into the far corners of the world to seek it, but man should be lore's master, lore should not be the master of men. And then, jubilantly but perhaps hypocritically, I prepare my spell arsenal for the coming battle. I start a discussion of our battle tactics, but the others (quite correctly) advise me to wait until after our final instructions from the baelnorm. Kord decides to give us an incredibly inspired speech on how noble we're being, and how we should feel honored to be walking into certain death and dying for such a glorious cause. I openly ridicule him. "What kind of fool are you?" I sneer. I don't deny that a certain fatalism is among my qualities, but "inspiration through recognition of one's purpose" is a farce of extraordinary measure, "I have absolutely no intention of dying today, or any day in the foreseeable future." The other agree, even Aron (which, of course, worries me). Kord sighs and looks at us like a pack of dumb children refusing to listen to the august wisdom of a sage among sages. Which he most certainly is not. We continue to argue the point until the baelnorm arrives. The baelnorm congratulates us on our already impressive accomplishments and then briefs us on the castle's layout. After being given advice on how to infiltrate the gate, There is a ground level, and three subterrtanean levels. We were to enter the ground level.and proceed as quickly as possible to the subterranean level. The first level was an artificial elven skyline, which we should be able to infiltrate quickly until we found a secret door. That would take us down a set of stairs into the middle of a large cavern on the second level, which were patrolled on the north side by skeletons and on the south side by some sort of Dragon-Men; the description made them sound like half-dragons. We were instructed to avoid these patrols at all costs, travel northeast and look for another secret passage. There we would travel down to the lower level, where the dracolich's phylactery was kept under guard in a magical prison. There we would break through the prison and destroy the phylactery. "So we destroy the phylactery in the Pool of Radiance?" Kord asked, "No." the baelnorm told us. "Simply break it out of its prison and smash it. You will need magical protections. These I can provide, but they will be detecting magic on anyone who enters. So I will provide you with this..." he said, and a magical cream appeared. "Smear it over yourselves and your items and they will be hidden from their scrys." "How do we escape?" It didn't take Kord to ask the ultimate in Kord questions. "There is a tunnel branch on the far west side of the cavern, beyond the Pool. Take that, and it will lead to a sanctuary," the baelnorm explained. "Do not take the northernmost passage - that leafds to the dracolich." We take a careful note of that statement, "Why don't we just take the escape passage and head there directly?" Kord asked. Good question. "The passage leads through a Null-Magic Zone," the baelnorm explains. "You could not enter Cormanthor with any magical protections if you took that route." That's a very convincing argument. "And once we arrive down in the Pool of Radiance, we throw the phylactery into it?" Kord repeated, oblivious to the fact that the baelnorm had told us not to do that only ma minute earlier. Even Aron gives him a mystified look. Once again, Kord stubbornly refuses to accept any factual statement, however grand or trivial, that doesn't meet with his worldview. The baelnorm departs, wishing us good fortune, leaving us with a great task and an immense weight. To infiltrate Castle Cormanthor, pass unseen amid the Sammasterite Cult, make our way to the bottom, destroy the dracolich's phylactery, and escape - hoping the other adventurers, whose names we don't even know, can slay the abomination. Otherwise, we'll have an adversary beyond imaging on our heads. "That's it," Ulrick says, looking at each of us in turn. "Let's go." [/QUOTE]
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