The Risen Goddess (Updated 3.10.08)
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blargney said:(contact), this journal is awesome!! At first I was sort of mystified as to its presence in the thread, but now I'm just enjoying it for the good readin' it is!
-blarg
Thanks, blarg!
Are you still mystified? Taran, Thelbar, Indy, Kyreel and Rex heard about an abandoned Dwarven Delve waaaay back around 4th level, finally made it there by eighth, got their asses handed to them by a pair of white dragons, stumbled into Faerun and have now found the *Faerunian* entrance of the same damn Delve!
- From Chapter 4:
The traders linger in town for a few days, and Indy hosts them, toasting to their clan, and their Fane. This troubles one of the dwarves, and after beating around the subject for a proper length of time, tells Indy the following story:
He is from a dwarven hall near Ratik known as the Great Delve. He, like many other young dwarves were forced to expatriate because his King had gone mad. The King lost his senses sometime after a visit from a group of strange dwarves who came up from the Underdark, but claimed to be surface dwarves from a burrow far, far away.
The dwarf presents his shield, a gift from the foreign dwarves. Indy is shocked and transfixed by the glyph. He is sure he has seen it before, but cannot recall where. He reacts very emotionally to the symbol, and knows it to be the warren mark of the Filas Hali. None of the other dwarves recognize this name.
Further, the dwarf from the Great Delve tells Indy that the foreign dwarves had a king – a king by the name of Alvodar. The name sends tendrils of memory through Indy, and he is sure he has known this dwarf.
The rest of the party needs little convincing, as they recognize the name of Alvodar themselves, though none of them know exactly why. They are sure that this Alvodar is a being of great virtue, and must certainly be sought. If the dwarves of the Great Delve are having troubles, and Alvodar is there, then into the Great Delve they shall go.
In the interim, the Risen Goddess and LoT group has run an entire campaign inside this exact same dungeon-- in order to deal with the burden of "player knowledge" we have contrived for the log of Fearless 'Fernal to fall into the hands of the Champions of the Risen Goddess.
Because I won't be adding lengthy explanations every time a new name or place pops up in the RG log, I thought you all might like to read Fernal's journal yourself, in order to get up to your usual high speed.
They first heard about the Delve at 4th level, and here it is again, staring their 19th-level selves in the face.
(contact)
Explorer
Great Delve 7
20 Flamerule
Ashnern, you should have seen the look on your face when I told you that we killed a dragon in the depths. Your excitement was a fine reward all its own, and your gratitude even finer. Now we are in the possession of no less than four potions and a magical wand in exchange for a dragon corpse! You told me that the wand produces fireballs when pointed at an area, but cautioned me to be careful. Little do you know that careful is my middle name!
Selise has determined to assist the Lady Tess in the regaining of her ancestral lands. I’m no revolutionary, but I cannot help but to think that any ruler, no matter how young or inexperienced, would serve better than this abysmal Lord Truesilver. He is as dense as one of Tickler’s day-old biscuits, and I've known Zhentarim enforcers who were more personable. And his breath? Gods in their heaven, I have never smelled such a foul odor emanating from something that was not yet dead!
His wife does seem quite delectable, however, and with any luck I shall have the truth of her!
23 Flamerule
Selise made her trip to Eveningstar, and obtained a scroll containing the spell that raised Bern from the dead. I can say with some surprise that I’m glad to see the gruff old cleric, and I think he’s glad to be back as well.
After playing at being Gods with the body of Bern, we returned to the entrance of the Great Delve and were set upon in a most cowardly (if well-planned) ambush!
Goblin archers and skirmishers had dug in to the cliffs surrounding the opening, and before we even knew we were in a fight, we were riddled with arrows! Wolf-riders completed the pincer-move, attacking us from within the Great Highway, and I daresay if it wasn’t for Selise’s counter-shooting, and Bern and Enkil’s heroism, none of us would yet live.
The wand of fireballs given to me by Ashnern works fine, although I’m ashamed to admit that I was thinking about the new Lady of Storm’s Rise when he was explaining it to me. I pointed the wrong end at our foes, and set off a fireball in our midst. The blast knocked me unconscious, but my friends tell me that it was quite impressive.
Alas, when I awoke, I learned that Enkil has been sent to join the Twenty Martyrs of Moradin that he made us memorize. He was guarding our retreat into the Delve, when he was struck to the ground and literally de-faced by a goblin’s cowardly coup-de-grace. If the body wasn’t wearing Enkil’s armor, I would not have recognized it, I’m afraid.
Bern thinks that Enkil should be left in the Temple to Moradin here, along with all his magic! I argued that we should sell his items, but the party supported Bern. It is probably just as well, for I confess I am ignorant about Metaphysics, and if Bern says Moradin would be angry with me for selling His Holy Relics, he surely knows best.
But I’m sure that Moradin would not begrudge me the coin value of Enkil’s masterwork armor. After all, who really wants to worship a stingy deity?
23 Flamerule
Thanks to Selise’s quick thinking, we captured one of the goblins, and the little dirty thing was quite informative. Apparently, these goblins are from the Stonelands, and entirely ignorant of the goblins within the Delve. They have found a pass through the mountains into Cormyr, and begun to raid through it. Worse yet, this attack on us was contracted by some human who gave the beasts our description and location! Would you think less of me, Ashnern, if I brought your name up during our discussion of possible culprits? Of course, the Lord Truesilver was also mentioned, but whatever mechanisms would place the man responsible with guarding the pass in an alliance with the goblins who intend to exploit it are beyond me.
In addition, the creature told us of a captive, an elven woman that they were fattening up like a liver goose. We discovered her in a nearby cave, and after Bern healed the worst of her wounds, she volunteered to cast in lots with us. She fights in the style of her people, with sword and spell at the same time. Her name is Aree, and she seems to be the worst sort of elf—arrogant, snobbish and aloof. Much like my mother, although without my mother’s fine appreciation for cruelty.
I suspect Merkatha will murder Aree before too long, if first impressions count for anything.
26 Flamerule
No time for a proper entry—I have a secret meeting with the Lady Truesilver to attend, and I will be Damned if I cannot find some way to smell pleasant before this sun goes down!
29 Flamerule
I write this from a very-well appointed chamber in the Royal Suite at Arabel. We have an appointment with the Steel Regent that she is currently two hours late for, so until she arrives, I will keep busy by bringing this journal up to date.
Our explorations beyond the Hanging Gardens led to a flooded passage, similar to the Great Highway, but under some five feet of water. Midway along this passage, we discovered a gruesome and mystical sight: A dwarf, certainly long dead, floats in the air above the flooded passage, dripping a steady stream of what looks and tastes like blood! (Yes I tasted it, Ashnern, please don’t tell the others.) Whatever this fellow did to be cursed in this way must have been truly heinous!
Venturing past the corpse through the flooded passages, we discovered a most impressive site, named All Roads Meet by the dwarven runes that decorate the place. There seems to be a central chamber that extends up through to the top of the mountain, and likewise below to an unknown depth. A central shaft pierces it in both directions, and there is a moving platform inside that shaft that must be sufficient in size to ferry a score of mounted men. Along the sides of the shaft are stairs, for those who cannot or would not wait for the platform.
This shaft is the key to the whole of this Great Delve. Through it, we could ascend to its heights, or plumb its depths, as we see fit. Of course, we have not fully explored the level that we entered into, and there is a certain school of thought that would argue against leaving unexplored caverns behind you, but temptation fouls the plans of even the wisest adventurers, so up we went.
We’ve made no sense of how or when the platform travels, save that we can hear it rumbling along in the shaft, and we see its tracks. As we have not discovered the truth of it, we were forced to take the stairs. The journey upwards took us the better part of a day (if my sense of time is still with me), and I stopped counting steps at three thousand and five.
Once above, we ran afoul of a pair of winged humanlike monstrosities, seemingly carved whole of stone. We managed to dispatch them, but only with a great effort. Exhausted, we determined to rest a while, then return to the more familiar Great Cavern, and finish the exploration of it.
As we made our way back to the fungal forest, we stumbled upon a group of dwarven mercenaries—adventurers like ourselves judging from their equipment and the way they attacked us completely without provocation. Their spellcasters fell to our counter-attack, but their warrior proved to be the cream of the crop. Honestly, he very nearly defeated us all single-handedly, but in the end we were victorious.
Sadly, Bern was killed by this mighty dwarf, and his spirit seems to have gone missing.
As we ransacked their warm corpses for magical loot, one of us (I think it was Selise) stumbled upon a most troubling letter. These dwarves, it seems, were emissaries from a nation to the East. Here is the whole of it:
Lord Uqaraq,
Our time is near. Our forces rally on the human’s eastern border. We shall push through effortlessly. Like all humans, they have no stomach for war. But these are especially weak, as their king is but a babe and they are led by a woman.
There will be no resistance, and soon we shall be reunited again. Millennia have passed since we could say this, but now the time is at hand. Kor’En Eamor will be ours again. And the Great Father God Hepis will return to lead us out of the darkness.
Hepis’ speed,
Crown Prince Rellerik Strongsoul
Regent and Heir to the Kingdom of Vesper Hall
Scion of the Qarlur Thalbarak
Of course, you don’t need me to tell you that despite these dwarves’ most fervent wishes the Eastern border of Cormyr is already occupied. We call that place Sembia, and if this note is true, the Sembians must be in league with these dwarves from Vesper Hall. It is well known that the Sembians covet Cormyr’s land, and perhaps now they think they have found the allies to help them take it.
“Qarlur Thalbarak” is an ancient phrase that means literally “Treachery’s Killers”. A dwarven military order? It seems that the worship of Hepis is not lost to the mists of time after all. Whoever Lord Uqaraq is, I suspect that he dwells within the Delve, and it was him that the dwarves were seeking when they attacked us. At least, we know now who the degenerate dwarves we first faced within the Delve belong to, and what they desire. But I cannot believe that there is an entire dwarven nation worshipping an unknown god. Perhaps Enkil is wrong, and the dwarves have hidden wicked cults among their number as well? And if this cult holds sway over the heir to Vesper Hall? This is exactly the sort of thing that starts wars, I tell you, and wars are notoriously bad for those of us in the adventuring profession.
It is none of my business what these Southerners do with their spare time, and frankly I could care less who authorizes our adventuring charter, but I am starting to fear that this Steel Regent will conscript us, or at the least force Selise into service.
Curse these humans and their half-measured attempts at political contrivances. Where is a pit-fiend to show them how it is done when you need one?
29 Flamerule
You would scold me, Ashnern, but I have given the Lady Truesliver a magical potion from my own treasure hoard. It a simple potion of endurance, good for a few hours’ pleasant vigor, but wasted on her. Of course, my intent is simply to encourage her to drink any further potions I might offer—surely I can commission a love draught here in Arabel!
Life is grand.
30 Flamerule
I knew it.
It is the studied opinion of the Steel Regent that Kor’En Eamor represents a “great and necessary resource for Noble Cormyr”, and that we are to suffer a Royal Command to “explore and secure the treasures of the Great Delve for the current War Effort”.
Bleh. As if Noble Cormyr has any say-so within the Great Delve. Of course, Selise will kowtow to her liege, but at least we are all agreed that the less that oafish Ilthais Truesilver knows about our efforts, the better. If there is one thing I simply cannot abide, it is supervision.
Alas, Ashnern, the Steel Regent has sent a sage back to Storm’s Rise with us, in the hopes that he can assist you in determining the truth of the Great Delve. Rath is his name. He is a pale and gutless fellow, and Merkatha has already terrified the poor lad to his core. I am amused by his cowardly antics. I hope you find him more pliant than we have, but I fear he will be useless to us all.
1 Eleasis
(Written in a shaky hand)
I am as hung-over as I have ever been. They certainly know how to light the Midsummer Fires here in Arabel.
6 Eleasis
While Bitzfit prepares scrolls, and Selise visits her kin, I have been left to prance about after Chance, who is prancing about after that ridiculous bard she is so enamored with. Gods take us all, she behaves like a besotted schoolgirl, and I none the better.
To complete our three-part-rod of stupidity, the bard (of course) prances after himself. To quote the famous poet, “There are no victors in war / only those who do not succumb”. I think we can say the same for love.
Take me back to the Delve, O fates, where at least the beings that want you dead will do you the courtesy of being obvious about it.
20 Flamerule
Ashnern, you should have seen the look on your face when I told you that we killed a dragon in the depths. Your excitement was a fine reward all its own, and your gratitude even finer. Now we are in the possession of no less than four potions and a magical wand in exchange for a dragon corpse! You told me that the wand produces fireballs when pointed at an area, but cautioned me to be careful. Little do you know that careful is my middle name!
Selise has determined to assist the Lady Tess in the regaining of her ancestral lands. I’m no revolutionary, but I cannot help but to think that any ruler, no matter how young or inexperienced, would serve better than this abysmal Lord Truesilver. He is as dense as one of Tickler’s day-old biscuits, and I've known Zhentarim enforcers who were more personable. And his breath? Gods in their heaven, I have never smelled such a foul odor emanating from something that was not yet dead!
His wife does seem quite delectable, however, and with any luck I shall have the truth of her!
23 Flamerule
Selise made her trip to Eveningstar, and obtained a scroll containing the spell that raised Bern from the dead. I can say with some surprise that I’m glad to see the gruff old cleric, and I think he’s glad to be back as well.
After playing at being Gods with the body of Bern, we returned to the entrance of the Great Delve and were set upon in a most cowardly (if well-planned) ambush!
Goblin archers and skirmishers had dug in to the cliffs surrounding the opening, and before we even knew we were in a fight, we were riddled with arrows! Wolf-riders completed the pincer-move, attacking us from within the Great Highway, and I daresay if it wasn’t for Selise’s counter-shooting, and Bern and Enkil’s heroism, none of us would yet live.
The wand of fireballs given to me by Ashnern works fine, although I’m ashamed to admit that I was thinking about the new Lady of Storm’s Rise when he was explaining it to me. I pointed the wrong end at our foes, and set off a fireball in our midst. The blast knocked me unconscious, but my friends tell me that it was quite impressive.
Alas, when I awoke, I learned that Enkil has been sent to join the Twenty Martyrs of Moradin that he made us memorize. He was guarding our retreat into the Delve, when he was struck to the ground and literally de-faced by a goblin’s cowardly coup-de-grace. If the body wasn’t wearing Enkil’s armor, I would not have recognized it, I’m afraid.
Bern thinks that Enkil should be left in the Temple to Moradin here, along with all his magic! I argued that we should sell his items, but the party supported Bern. It is probably just as well, for I confess I am ignorant about Metaphysics, and if Bern says Moradin would be angry with me for selling His Holy Relics, he surely knows best.
But I’m sure that Moradin would not begrudge me the coin value of Enkil’s masterwork armor. After all, who really wants to worship a stingy deity?
23 Flamerule
Thanks to Selise’s quick thinking, we captured one of the goblins, and the little dirty thing was quite informative. Apparently, these goblins are from the Stonelands, and entirely ignorant of the goblins within the Delve. They have found a pass through the mountains into Cormyr, and begun to raid through it. Worse yet, this attack on us was contracted by some human who gave the beasts our description and location! Would you think less of me, Ashnern, if I brought your name up during our discussion of possible culprits? Of course, the Lord Truesilver was also mentioned, but whatever mechanisms would place the man responsible with guarding the pass in an alliance with the goblins who intend to exploit it are beyond me.
In addition, the creature told us of a captive, an elven woman that they were fattening up like a liver goose. We discovered her in a nearby cave, and after Bern healed the worst of her wounds, she volunteered to cast in lots with us. She fights in the style of her people, with sword and spell at the same time. Her name is Aree, and she seems to be the worst sort of elf—arrogant, snobbish and aloof. Much like my mother, although without my mother’s fine appreciation for cruelty.
I suspect Merkatha will murder Aree before too long, if first impressions count for anything.
26 Flamerule
No time for a proper entry—I have a secret meeting with the Lady Truesilver to attend, and I will be Damned if I cannot find some way to smell pleasant before this sun goes down!
29 Flamerule
I write this from a very-well appointed chamber in the Royal Suite at Arabel. We have an appointment with the Steel Regent that she is currently two hours late for, so until she arrives, I will keep busy by bringing this journal up to date.
Our explorations beyond the Hanging Gardens led to a flooded passage, similar to the Great Highway, but under some five feet of water. Midway along this passage, we discovered a gruesome and mystical sight: A dwarf, certainly long dead, floats in the air above the flooded passage, dripping a steady stream of what looks and tastes like blood! (Yes I tasted it, Ashnern, please don’t tell the others.) Whatever this fellow did to be cursed in this way must have been truly heinous!
Venturing past the corpse through the flooded passages, we discovered a most impressive site, named All Roads Meet by the dwarven runes that decorate the place. There seems to be a central chamber that extends up through to the top of the mountain, and likewise below to an unknown depth. A central shaft pierces it in both directions, and there is a moving platform inside that shaft that must be sufficient in size to ferry a score of mounted men. Along the sides of the shaft are stairs, for those who cannot or would not wait for the platform.
This shaft is the key to the whole of this Great Delve. Through it, we could ascend to its heights, or plumb its depths, as we see fit. Of course, we have not fully explored the level that we entered into, and there is a certain school of thought that would argue against leaving unexplored caverns behind you, but temptation fouls the plans of even the wisest adventurers, so up we went.
We’ve made no sense of how or when the platform travels, save that we can hear it rumbling along in the shaft, and we see its tracks. As we have not discovered the truth of it, we were forced to take the stairs. The journey upwards took us the better part of a day (if my sense of time is still with me), and I stopped counting steps at three thousand and five.
Once above, we ran afoul of a pair of winged humanlike monstrosities, seemingly carved whole of stone. We managed to dispatch them, but only with a great effort. Exhausted, we determined to rest a while, then return to the more familiar Great Cavern, and finish the exploration of it.
As we made our way back to the fungal forest, we stumbled upon a group of dwarven mercenaries—adventurers like ourselves judging from their equipment and the way they attacked us completely without provocation. Their spellcasters fell to our counter-attack, but their warrior proved to be the cream of the crop. Honestly, he very nearly defeated us all single-handedly, but in the end we were victorious.
Sadly, Bern was killed by this mighty dwarf, and his spirit seems to have gone missing.
As we ransacked their warm corpses for magical loot, one of us (I think it was Selise) stumbled upon a most troubling letter. These dwarves, it seems, were emissaries from a nation to the East. Here is the whole of it:
Lord Uqaraq,
Our time is near. Our forces rally on the human’s eastern border. We shall push through effortlessly. Like all humans, they have no stomach for war. But these are especially weak, as their king is but a babe and they are led by a woman.
There will be no resistance, and soon we shall be reunited again. Millennia have passed since we could say this, but now the time is at hand. Kor’En Eamor will be ours again. And the Great Father God Hepis will return to lead us out of the darkness.
Hepis’ speed,
Crown Prince Rellerik Strongsoul
Regent and Heir to the Kingdom of Vesper Hall
Scion of the Qarlur Thalbarak
Of course, you don’t need me to tell you that despite these dwarves’ most fervent wishes the Eastern border of Cormyr is already occupied. We call that place Sembia, and if this note is true, the Sembians must be in league with these dwarves from Vesper Hall. It is well known that the Sembians covet Cormyr’s land, and perhaps now they think they have found the allies to help them take it.
“Qarlur Thalbarak” is an ancient phrase that means literally “Treachery’s Killers”. A dwarven military order? It seems that the worship of Hepis is not lost to the mists of time after all. Whoever Lord Uqaraq is, I suspect that he dwells within the Delve, and it was him that the dwarves were seeking when they attacked us. At least, we know now who the degenerate dwarves we first faced within the Delve belong to, and what they desire. But I cannot believe that there is an entire dwarven nation worshipping an unknown god. Perhaps Enkil is wrong, and the dwarves have hidden wicked cults among their number as well? And if this cult holds sway over the heir to Vesper Hall? This is exactly the sort of thing that starts wars, I tell you, and wars are notoriously bad for those of us in the adventuring profession.
It is none of my business what these Southerners do with their spare time, and frankly I could care less who authorizes our adventuring charter, but I am starting to fear that this Steel Regent will conscript us, or at the least force Selise into service.
Curse these humans and their half-measured attempts at political contrivances. Where is a pit-fiend to show them how it is done when you need one?
29 Flamerule
You would scold me, Ashnern, but I have given the Lady Truesliver a magical potion from my own treasure hoard. It a simple potion of endurance, good for a few hours’ pleasant vigor, but wasted on her. Of course, my intent is simply to encourage her to drink any further potions I might offer—surely I can commission a love draught here in Arabel!
Life is grand.
30 Flamerule
I knew it.
It is the studied opinion of the Steel Regent that Kor’En Eamor represents a “great and necessary resource for Noble Cormyr”, and that we are to suffer a Royal Command to “explore and secure the treasures of the Great Delve for the current War Effort”.
Bleh. As if Noble Cormyr has any say-so within the Great Delve. Of course, Selise will kowtow to her liege, but at least we are all agreed that the less that oafish Ilthais Truesilver knows about our efforts, the better. If there is one thing I simply cannot abide, it is supervision.
Alas, Ashnern, the Steel Regent has sent a sage back to Storm’s Rise with us, in the hopes that he can assist you in determining the truth of the Great Delve. Rath is his name. He is a pale and gutless fellow, and Merkatha has already terrified the poor lad to his core. I am amused by his cowardly antics. I hope you find him more pliant than we have, but I fear he will be useless to us all.
1 Eleasis
(Written in a shaky hand)
I am as hung-over as I have ever been. They certainly know how to light the Midsummer Fires here in Arabel.
6 Eleasis
While Bitzfit prepares scrolls, and Selise visits her kin, I have been left to prance about after Chance, who is prancing about after that ridiculous bard she is so enamored with. Gods take us all, she behaves like a besotted schoolgirl, and I none the better.
To complete our three-part-rod of stupidity, the bard (of course) prances after himself. To quote the famous poet, “There are no victors in war / only those who do not succumb”. I think we can say the same for love.
Take me back to the Delve, O fates, where at least the beings that want you dead will do you the courtesy of being obvious about it.
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(contact)
Explorer
blargney said:
He's persistant, I'll give him that. Actually, we don't *have* to go into the delve, but as it happens, we really want to make this peace with Elgin Trezler, and "solving" the problem with the Northern dwarves would go a long way to putting him in our eternal debt. In fact, if we can get those dwarves back to the Silver Marches where they belong, then they can bear the brunt of the onrushing orcish horde.
Otherwise, it's orc-overrun city for Taran and Thelbar's latest project in social engineering.
Finding out that Lathander has joined the pasoun, making Elgin (and by extension Cormyr) kind of a blood-brother to T&T just solidifies it. We're goin in.
Plus, it's only after Taran has run his big mouth about how much of this dungeon's ass he's going to kick that we find out that it's the *same* *damn* *place* we ran from levels and levels and levels ago.
Taran is now obligated by his own ego to go kick that dungeon's ass. (I almost wrote "overblown ego", but you know, he's 19th freaking level. It's not "overblown" anymore.)
As a player, I'm stoked, because I Know What's In There (tm).
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(contact)
Explorer
Great Delve 8
9 Eleasis
I hate Arabel, and don’t mind if I never see it again. Bitzfit, for her part is maddening, and refused my gift of a magical cloak, claiming that she does not accept gifts from people of my reputation. My reputation! She claims to have it from the mouth of both Bern and Chance that I am a being of low moral character.
Low moral character, indeed.
She should beware the dark cliffs of the Delve, for I would not climb alone to recover her corpse. Accidents do happen, after all.
19 Eleasis
We are back in Storm’s Rise, and on the morrow, Selise, Aree, Bitzfit and myself will return to the Delve. We hope to re-join Merkatha and Maktar Jai, then explore the Southernmost end of the Great Cavern, and discover which clan-burrow awaits us there.
I never thought I would say this, but I really feel at home here. The air is most often cold enough to put a layer of ice on any water left out overnight, and the simple food agrees with me.
Bitzfit notwithstanding, I am coming to really enjoy the company of my other companions, and we are starting to find some real wealth here. I have commissioned a hat of disguise that I intend to present to Merkatha. Perhaps it will be sufficient to make up for past transgressions, and cement the bonds of friendship between us. It occurs to me how highly these others value friendship, placing it above all other considerations. Certainly, this plays to my advantage, as a wealthy infernal can have no shortage of friends!
The Lady Tess has gone missing, probably fled in disgrace. She left no word, but seems to have taken her seneschal with her. Likely, she searches for relatives or other nobles who will shelter her in the South. Selise is worried (due to all the goblin activity in the mountains) that Tess may have stumbled into an ambush.
It is interesting to me how important the lives of the noble class can seem to one another.
Tomorrow, we go back into the Great Delve, and shrug off this twin yoke of Politics and War! Like a novice on my first foray, I am tantalized by my dreams of what is to come!
Undated entry
(Written in a clumsy elven script)
Fernal died. We said a short prayer for his soul, but in truth he had no god. The gnolls ate him, and left no remains to bury unless you sift their sh-t.
I commend your soul to whatever fate you have earned for it Fernal, and Kiransalee willing, I will avenge your death as I avenge my own suffering.
-- Merkatha
9 Eleasis
I hate Arabel, and don’t mind if I never see it again. Bitzfit, for her part is maddening, and refused my gift of a magical cloak, claiming that she does not accept gifts from people of my reputation. My reputation! She claims to have it from the mouth of both Bern and Chance that I am a being of low moral character.
Low moral character, indeed.
She should beware the dark cliffs of the Delve, for I would not climb alone to recover her corpse. Accidents do happen, after all.
19 Eleasis
We are back in Storm’s Rise, and on the morrow, Selise, Aree, Bitzfit and myself will return to the Delve. We hope to re-join Merkatha and Maktar Jai, then explore the Southernmost end of the Great Cavern, and discover which clan-burrow awaits us there.
I never thought I would say this, but I really feel at home here. The air is most often cold enough to put a layer of ice on any water left out overnight, and the simple food agrees with me.
Bitzfit notwithstanding, I am coming to really enjoy the company of my other companions, and we are starting to find some real wealth here. I have commissioned a hat of disguise that I intend to present to Merkatha. Perhaps it will be sufficient to make up for past transgressions, and cement the bonds of friendship between us. It occurs to me how highly these others value friendship, placing it above all other considerations. Certainly, this plays to my advantage, as a wealthy infernal can have no shortage of friends!
The Lady Tess has gone missing, probably fled in disgrace. She left no word, but seems to have taken her seneschal with her. Likely, she searches for relatives or other nobles who will shelter her in the South. Selise is worried (due to all the goblin activity in the mountains) that Tess may have stumbled into an ambush.
It is interesting to me how important the lives of the noble class can seem to one another.
Tomorrow, we go back into the Great Delve, and shrug off this twin yoke of Politics and War! Like a novice on my first foray, I am tantalized by my dreams of what is to come!
Undated entry
(Written in a clumsy elven script)
Fernal died. We said a short prayer for his soul, but in truth he had no god. The gnolls ate him, and left no remains to bury unless you sift their sh-t.
I commend your soul to whatever fate you have earned for it Fernal, and Kiransalee willing, I will avenge your death as I avenge my own suffering.
-- Merkatha
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Joshua Randall
Legend
Wow. I dig the abrupt ending to the journal. Merkatha's terse entry is a perfect contrast to Fernal's long-winded writing style.
I'm looking forward to Taran kicking the dungeon's ass!
I'm looking forward to Taran kicking the dungeon's ass!
Single Malt
First Post
(contact) said:
You know, as wierd as this may sound, this was a really, really sad moment for me. Even though I (sorta) knew it was going to happen. Even though Fernals time in the spotlight has been short compared to the rest of the SH. Even though.....even though.....*sob* Well, I guess you always expect the chronicler to survive, especially one so full of life and ideas and dreams as Fernal.
The matter-of-factness of Merkathas entry just underlines the sadness of it all and the grittyness of an adventurers life that Fernal understood fully (I think). *sob* Hate to see you go, little buddy
You really have a knack for portraying the rougish types (contact), even though I can't remember the name of that unforgettable assassin over in the RttToEE campaign. Kinda contradicting myself here, aren't I. Chalk it up to grief.
I'll shut up now
(contact)
Explorer
Great Delve 9
Eleint the 6th
(Written in a more steady High Elvish)
Aree pens these words. I have been given the task of continuing this “Monstrologist’s Log”. But before you make any further false assumptions, Ashnern, I intend to keep no record of anything that does not stir my own interest. Make of that what you will.
I will not attempt to clarify past events from the previously maudlin and short-sighted entries. Eyewitnesses are dying at an accelerated rate, so interview them while you still can is my best advice.
Eleint the 6th
We have been threatened by an individual claiming to be the high priest of Moradin. Not a mind you, but the. He tells us that Kor’En Eamor is taboo—the most proscribed place in Faerun. None are to set foot within it, especially dwarves.
He was waiting for us at the entrance into the Great Highway as we exited the place, and I think his speech was prepared. Since we have already broken the taboo, we are now charged by him with keeping other dwarves out. I can only assume he refers to the dwarves of Vesper hall, who march on Cormyr.
Eleint the 6th
The Halls of the Earth and Grain are where we lost ‘Fernal. He was ravaged and eaten by a half-dozen gnoll lycanthropes in full view of that drow.
The Lord Ilthais gave us one of his retainers in response, a warrior named Shel, whom I suppose he believed was cleverly disguised as just another adventurer. Fortunately, the gnolls killed her before she could betray us to him. We killed the gnolls in return, a fair exchange, in my opinion.
In the halls of Earth and Grain, the drow discovered the former home of this Alvodar Cursebreaker. He is survived by his own writing, found in a hidden chapel to Moradin:
Great Father I have failed you. I have forsaken you for your wonders. Once your scion, now I am lost.
A fallen priest comes as no surprise in these cursed halls, but there is one true wonder in the Halls of Earth and Grain. A portal exiting the hall leads to another land entirely. It is my opinion that it is the Prime Material plane, but not Faerun. I have chosen not to explore the world beyond the portal.
However, I do not need my eyes’ own evidence to deduce that it must be the homeland of the fallen king-priest Alvodar. His writing and his work are here, along with a throne room, more recently appointed than the rest of the place. Apparently he did not break the curse of Kor’En Eamor, despite his name.
If you will refer to the passages detailing the trading venture established by the spinagon Baatezu, and the goods found therein, you will realize that my postulates are proving themselves correct by the moment, Ashnern. Surrender your pig-headed contention to the contrary, I beg you, before you humiliate yourself any further in futile argument.
The drow met a human wizardess while scuttling around the Halls of Earth and Grain, and this woman claims to be from the other side of the portal, a land she calls Isk.
She has given her name as T’sdeal, and seems a refreshingly educated woman, once one gets past her foreign accent and stilted diction. The drow terrifies her of course, and it is as if a second sane point of view were suddenly inserted into an ongoing and terrible nightmare. I daresay I will like her, given time.
Eleint the 7th
It is exactly as I have told you, Ashnern, this place is a nexus of portals leading to who knows how many worlds. Let me note for you the writing upon an artifact we have determined belonged to this Alvodar Cursebreaker. This is my translation from the Auld Dwarvish, of course. The Song of Ceridain:
Like a great vein of iron
my roots reach deep
I touch a thousand worlds
The Throne to All Dwarvenkind
I am their ore, life, their refuge
Of the fabric of the universe
by the Great Father’s hand
My halls teem with works so great
All other gods weep with envy
Kor’En Eamor
Note that I do not translate Kor’En Eamor as “First Home” but as “Throne to all Dwarvenkind”. That is a poetic rendering of the literal “Direction toward which all bow”. Obviously, they do not mean “all beings” when they say “all”, but rather “all dwarves”. However, they use the inclusive “Ŝ”-rune, indicating that the subject is the whole of the idea, rather than a specific group. You can argue if you wish, but my translation is flawless.
Thus, we have the First Home of the dwarves, existing simultaneously as a metaphysical idea, a religious metaphor, and a physical gateway to every place that dwarves reside.
This tri-part existence forms the crux of my argument, Ashnern, and I refer you once again to the Liven Chroncicles, which you have so passively dismissed.
Further, note that in the original passage, the Throne of All Dwarvenkind is given the personal rune “I”—in the sense of a being, which is a break from the Dwarven tradition of anthropomorphizing works of craft in their poetry, if I am not mistaken. I will leave it to you to decide if that is relevant, or simply an affectation. I have a hard time believing that a place can be a being, despite the scribblings of a long-dead poet.
I am preparing to give this journal to our new companion T’sdeal, for her study, and I am sure you will find that your weak contentions will now be doubly opposed.
Undated entry
The seal of Lord Ilthais Truesilver is stamped over the seal of Storm’s Rise. A scribe’s practiced hand notes: “Trnscrbd in entrty, Elient 8, DR 1372 ”
Eleint the 9th
Selise is justifiably angry with T’sdeal for passing this journal into the hands of Lord Truesilver, but there is little he can do to us, as we are currently under charter from none other than the Steel Regent herself.
Tomorrow we are back into the mines, and I will dutifully hunt for what you seek.
Elient the 10th
In searching for another way to find the elevator Fernal noted earlier (and the flank of the Kuo-Toan and orcish forces he neglected to mention), we discovered a chamber marked as the Room of Golden Writing. It seems to be a storehouse for historical lore. Right now, the group is agitated and desires to get back at the Kuo-Toans. That drow in particular hates them for what she claims to have suffered at the hands of others like them, but you know what I think of her stories already.
Elient the 13th
Kor’En Eamor is a delicate tightrope act masquerading as a bludgeoning tool.
Do you recall the gargoyles that we destroyed on the level above? They were in an alliance with a band of orcs, led by a powerful outworlder fighter. His group had previously been part of a second orcish band, which includes the majority of their elites, and is now led by an outworlder wizard, his former boon companion. At one time they were one larger group, although kept in slavery by the Kuo-Toans.
Several years ago, they rebelled against the Kuo-Toans, and shortly thereafter became masters of the level above. Some time recently, however, the outworlders had a falling out, and split their band into two factions, and the subsequent fighting quickly settled into a détente. The warrior allied with the gargoyles, but the wizard had the elites.
The gargoyles were immune to the elites’ weapons and neutralized their advantage, but were not enough in and of themselves to grant their group victory. And so it remained for several years an uneasy peace.
Then we came along and killed the gargoyles, which disrupted their standoff. The wizard’s group responded by attacking, defeating and assimilating the other group, and then were able to finish their revenge upon the Kuo-Toans, who were weakened from our own previous raid against them.
By the time we arrived, all the Kuo-Toans were dead, the orcish forces greatly reduced, and the remainder unable to resist us. Frankly, we could not have played it better than we did in our own total ignorance.
The wizard and his former companion hailed from a world they called Pentak Seline, which means “Dancing Under the Moon”. They were heavily tattooed and made easy use of magic, as do T’sdeal’s people. The wizard was a wand-crafter, and had trained several of his filthy orcs to use them.
We’ve slain the wizard, and intend to go back in the morning to finish the remaining orcs. What I have related of their recent history we learned from the diary of the warrior outworlder, which we captured today.
Eleint the 23rd
Now here’s something for you Ashnern—the wizard also kept meticulous writings, and it was his belief that the Kuo-Toans who were masters of the place when he arrived were themselves previously subjugated by illithidi.
The drow asserts that the mind-flayers still hold the lower reaches of Kor’En Eamor and were her captors. She states that she reserves the better part of her hate for them, and whether this is her suicidal bent emerging or simply good sense I deem not to care.
This place has been a fertile ground for conquest. Apparently, over the millennia, uncountable groups have found their way here through the portals, and all have discovered that like most prizes, Kor’En Eamor is easier to seize than it is to hold.
Note this: No beings can reproduce here. They enter as fertile as the day they were born, but once ensconced, they neither grow old nor do they breed. Food is plentiful, as is the treasure of dwarven past, and warfare is the norm. Over time, each force is whittled away until it is finally replaced by another group.
We seem to be the latest manifestation of this unnatural natural order.
Are you aware, Ashnern, of any force that can upend nature so? I am not, save for the will of the gods. You agree, I am sure, that we have determined an aspect of Moradin’s greater curse upon this place. Perhaps a return to the Room of Golden Writing will reveal more.
At any rate, I shall see you soon, for we are off to Storm’s Rise in the morning. Selise is gravely worried about her Lady Tess, and I think she is near to abandoning Kor’En Eamor altogether in favor of a political quest. So be it, I am myself longing for some other life. I think that I have repaid my debt to my rescuers, and hope to soon return to my home. We will converse more on the morrow. May I find you well.
Eleint the 6th
(Written in a more steady High Elvish)
Aree pens these words. I have been given the task of continuing this “Monstrologist’s Log”. But before you make any further false assumptions, Ashnern, I intend to keep no record of anything that does not stir my own interest. Make of that what you will.
I will not attempt to clarify past events from the previously maudlin and short-sighted entries. Eyewitnesses are dying at an accelerated rate, so interview them while you still can is my best advice.
Eleint the 6th
We have been threatened by an individual claiming to be the high priest of Moradin. Not a mind you, but the. He tells us that Kor’En Eamor is taboo—the most proscribed place in Faerun. None are to set foot within it, especially dwarves.
He was waiting for us at the entrance into the Great Highway as we exited the place, and I think his speech was prepared. Since we have already broken the taboo, we are now charged by him with keeping other dwarves out. I can only assume he refers to the dwarves of Vesper hall, who march on Cormyr.
Eleint the 6th
The Halls of the Earth and Grain are where we lost ‘Fernal. He was ravaged and eaten by a half-dozen gnoll lycanthropes in full view of that drow.
The Lord Ilthais gave us one of his retainers in response, a warrior named Shel, whom I suppose he believed was cleverly disguised as just another adventurer. Fortunately, the gnolls killed her before she could betray us to him. We killed the gnolls in return, a fair exchange, in my opinion.
In the halls of Earth and Grain, the drow discovered the former home of this Alvodar Cursebreaker. He is survived by his own writing, found in a hidden chapel to Moradin:
Great Father I have failed you. I have forsaken you for your wonders. Once your scion, now I am lost.
A fallen priest comes as no surprise in these cursed halls, but there is one true wonder in the Halls of Earth and Grain. A portal exiting the hall leads to another land entirely. It is my opinion that it is the Prime Material plane, but not Faerun. I have chosen not to explore the world beyond the portal.
However, I do not need my eyes’ own evidence to deduce that it must be the homeland of the fallen king-priest Alvodar. His writing and his work are here, along with a throne room, more recently appointed than the rest of the place. Apparently he did not break the curse of Kor’En Eamor, despite his name.
If you will refer to the passages detailing the trading venture established by the spinagon Baatezu, and the goods found therein, you will realize that my postulates are proving themselves correct by the moment, Ashnern. Surrender your pig-headed contention to the contrary, I beg you, before you humiliate yourself any further in futile argument.
The drow met a human wizardess while scuttling around the Halls of Earth and Grain, and this woman claims to be from the other side of the portal, a land she calls Isk.
She has given her name as T’sdeal, and seems a refreshingly educated woman, once one gets past her foreign accent and stilted diction. The drow terrifies her of course, and it is as if a second sane point of view were suddenly inserted into an ongoing and terrible nightmare. I daresay I will like her, given time.
Eleint the 7th
It is exactly as I have told you, Ashnern, this place is a nexus of portals leading to who knows how many worlds. Let me note for you the writing upon an artifact we have determined belonged to this Alvodar Cursebreaker. This is my translation from the Auld Dwarvish, of course. The Song of Ceridain:
Like a great vein of iron
my roots reach deep
I touch a thousand worlds
The Throne to All Dwarvenkind
I am their ore, life, their refuge
Of the fabric of the universe
by the Great Father’s hand
My halls teem with works so great
All other gods weep with envy
Kor’En Eamor
Note that I do not translate Kor’En Eamor as “First Home” but as “Throne to all Dwarvenkind”. That is a poetic rendering of the literal “Direction toward which all bow”. Obviously, they do not mean “all beings” when they say “all”, but rather “all dwarves”. However, they use the inclusive “Ŝ”-rune, indicating that the subject is the whole of the idea, rather than a specific group. You can argue if you wish, but my translation is flawless.
Thus, we have the First Home of the dwarves, existing simultaneously as a metaphysical idea, a religious metaphor, and a physical gateway to every place that dwarves reside.
This tri-part existence forms the crux of my argument, Ashnern, and I refer you once again to the Liven Chroncicles, which you have so passively dismissed.
Further, note that in the original passage, the Throne of All Dwarvenkind is given the personal rune “I”—in the sense of a being, which is a break from the Dwarven tradition of anthropomorphizing works of craft in their poetry, if I am not mistaken. I will leave it to you to decide if that is relevant, or simply an affectation. I have a hard time believing that a place can be a being, despite the scribblings of a long-dead poet.
I am preparing to give this journal to our new companion T’sdeal, for her study, and I am sure you will find that your weak contentions will now be doubly opposed.
Undated entry
The seal of Lord Ilthais Truesilver is stamped over the seal of Storm’s Rise. A scribe’s practiced hand notes: “Trnscrbd in entrty, Elient 8, DR 1372 ”
Eleint the 9th
Selise is justifiably angry with T’sdeal for passing this journal into the hands of Lord Truesilver, but there is little he can do to us, as we are currently under charter from none other than the Steel Regent herself.
Tomorrow we are back into the mines, and I will dutifully hunt for what you seek.
Elient the 10th
In searching for another way to find the elevator Fernal noted earlier (and the flank of the Kuo-Toan and orcish forces he neglected to mention), we discovered a chamber marked as the Room of Golden Writing. It seems to be a storehouse for historical lore. Right now, the group is agitated and desires to get back at the Kuo-Toans. That drow in particular hates them for what she claims to have suffered at the hands of others like them, but you know what I think of her stories already.
Elient the 13th
Kor’En Eamor is a delicate tightrope act masquerading as a bludgeoning tool.
Do you recall the gargoyles that we destroyed on the level above? They were in an alliance with a band of orcs, led by a powerful outworlder fighter. His group had previously been part of a second orcish band, which includes the majority of their elites, and is now led by an outworlder wizard, his former boon companion. At one time they were one larger group, although kept in slavery by the Kuo-Toans.
Several years ago, they rebelled against the Kuo-Toans, and shortly thereafter became masters of the level above. Some time recently, however, the outworlders had a falling out, and split their band into two factions, and the subsequent fighting quickly settled into a détente. The warrior allied with the gargoyles, but the wizard had the elites.
The gargoyles were immune to the elites’ weapons and neutralized their advantage, but were not enough in and of themselves to grant their group victory. And so it remained for several years an uneasy peace.
Then we came along and killed the gargoyles, which disrupted their standoff. The wizard’s group responded by attacking, defeating and assimilating the other group, and then were able to finish their revenge upon the Kuo-Toans, who were weakened from our own previous raid against them.
By the time we arrived, all the Kuo-Toans were dead, the orcish forces greatly reduced, and the remainder unable to resist us. Frankly, we could not have played it better than we did in our own total ignorance.
The wizard and his former companion hailed from a world they called Pentak Seline, which means “Dancing Under the Moon”. They were heavily tattooed and made easy use of magic, as do T’sdeal’s people. The wizard was a wand-crafter, and had trained several of his filthy orcs to use them.
We’ve slain the wizard, and intend to go back in the morning to finish the remaining orcs. What I have related of their recent history we learned from the diary of the warrior outworlder, which we captured today.
Eleint the 23rd
Now here’s something for you Ashnern—the wizard also kept meticulous writings, and it was his belief that the Kuo-Toans who were masters of the place when he arrived were themselves previously subjugated by illithidi.
The drow asserts that the mind-flayers still hold the lower reaches of Kor’En Eamor and were her captors. She states that she reserves the better part of her hate for them, and whether this is her suicidal bent emerging or simply good sense I deem not to care.
This place has been a fertile ground for conquest. Apparently, over the millennia, uncountable groups have found their way here through the portals, and all have discovered that like most prizes, Kor’En Eamor is easier to seize than it is to hold.
Note this: No beings can reproduce here. They enter as fertile as the day they were born, but once ensconced, they neither grow old nor do they breed. Food is plentiful, as is the treasure of dwarven past, and warfare is the norm. Over time, each force is whittled away until it is finally replaced by another group.
We seem to be the latest manifestation of this unnatural natural order.
Are you aware, Ashnern, of any force that can upend nature so? I am not, save for the will of the gods. You agree, I am sure, that we have determined an aspect of Moradin’s greater curse upon this place. Perhaps a return to the Room of Golden Writing will reveal more.
At any rate, I shall see you soon, for we are off to Storm’s Rise in the morning. Selise is gravely worried about her Lady Tess, and I think she is near to abandoning Kor’En Eamor altogether in favor of a political quest. So be it, I am myself longing for some other life. I think that I have repaid my debt to my rescuers, and hope to soon return to my home. We will converse more on the morrow. May I find you well.
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