Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Risen Goddess (Updated 3.10.08)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="(contact)" data-source="post: 719629" data-attributes="member: 41"><p><strong>65 -- Pen pals!</strong></p><p></p><p>65—Diplomacy without teeth is called ‘surrender’, after all.</p><p></p><p>By the time that the first few chaotic hours have passed, several fights have been broken up, and the drow refugees are appointed to their temporary quarters within the huge dungeon that recently housed several hundred of their fiendish kin. ‘Group leaders’ have been appointed, more for the look in their eye and willingness to take the job rather than any verifiable merit.</p><p></p><p>Khuumar wades through the ranks of the drow, informing them that they are now part of House Szith Moraine, and berating the worst of the addicts for their weakness. He calls it “edification” rather than “verbal abuse”, and Taran accepts his explanation.</p><p></p><p>In the meantime, Taran and Thelbar meet with Gorquen, who relates an interesting tale of her own. Shortly after the Underdark group defeated the Nightmare Orb of Irae T’ssarion and released the infant goddess from her bondage, Arunshee appeared before Gorquen. As she had with Taran and Thelbar, Arunshee used the body of Kyreel for her avatar.</p><p></p><p>The goddess informed Gorquen that she had placed her breath within the elven Champion when last they were together, as safekeeping against the foul plans of Irae T’ssarion. While Gorquen was battling with the last of Tar Elentyr’s foul allies, she carried the goddess’ essence within her. Thus, Kiransalee and her high priestess were unable to do any lasting harm to the babe, their violent and expansive imaginations notwithstanding.</p><p></p><p>“<em>I am reborn, and I have come for what is mine</em>,” the goddess told her.</p><p></p><p>In an instant, Gorquen felt some of the rightness within her pulled forcefully out.</p><p></p><p>“<em>And now I have part of you, as well</em>,” Arunshee said. “<em>But I no longer take where I will not give</em>.” And with that, Gorquen felt a sensation long-missed, but never forgotten: wings upon her back! Sleek, ebony wings, in every way as perfect and beautiful as the wings ripped from her in her former life, but jet black where the former were white.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Black suits me</em>,” Arunshee said, and then disappeared.</p><p></p><p>“I like your new wings, Gorquen,” Taran says. “They look good on you. Very slimming.”</p><p></p><p>-----</p><p></p><p>That evening, as he settles down to sleep in their new home, Taran takes off his boots for the first time in days. He looks at them, stained to the calves with blood. So many foes, so many stories. The foul, corpulent fire-giant priest of Tenebrous, Kurgoth Hellspawn, Irae T’ssarion and her clan. Taran determines to set them under glass, and keep them as a trophy. “The boots tell a lot about a man,” he says to himself. “Mine say, ‘<em>don’t f-ck with me</em>’.” And laughing to himself, he falls into the deepest sleep of his young life, dreaming of Arunshee, and Nathè .</p><p></p><p>----</p><p></p><p>The next morning, the group has pulled the bodies of their enemies from the <em>portable hole</em>, and divested them of their magic items. They take a careful inventory, keeping what they like, and equipping Khuumar as befits his new role beside the Champions of the Risen Goddess.</p><p></p><p>That evening, Thelbar and Taran hold a secret ritual, in which Thelbar makes <em>permanent</em> a <em>Rary’s telepathic bond</em> between the two. “All the better to think to you with,” Thelbar says laughing. </p><p></p><p>After a long telepathic debate as to their next course of action, the two of them prepare a letter, to be sent to Elgin Trezler, Enae Enhallo, and Jumdash Dir. </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Gentlemen,</p><p></p><p>We have the honor of addressing you from our new home far to the North. We greet you with the North Wind at our back and the holy names of Palatin Eremath, Arunshee, Lathander, Corellon Larethian and Tempus upon our lips. May this missive find you well, and at peace.</p><p></p><p>We are at this time greatly concerned for your reputation, as many of the slanders you have spread about us are patently untrue. We are, like yourselves, engaged in the adventuring profession, and understand how such a life leads one to swift action, oftentimes before all of the facts can be determined. </p><p></p><p>Therefore, we consider your destruction of our home, and our subsequent banishment from the Dalelands to be nothing more than a well-intentioned mistake, honestly made, and absent of any genuine malice.</p><p></p><p>We are prepared, as good and right-thinking individuals, to offer you an opportunity to make amends for the unfortunate and ill-considered destruction of our home and property. An inventory follows, containing both the items of note ruined by your act, and the property value of our holdings in Mistledale, as well as a modest sum to encompass duress and inconvenience.</p><p></p><p>The total amount is one hundred thirty three thousand gold pieces. We will pass the winter awaiting your decision, but expect you to have obtained the requisite funds by the beginning of Spring Rites or first thaw in Arabel, whichever should pass first. You will understand that due to the precarious financial position you have put us in, we cannot at this time afford to be flexible as to the due date for settlement.</p><p></p><p>We hope that this winter finds you well, and may your gods and goddesses smile upon you,</p><p></p><p>Taran and Thelbar Tar-Ilou.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“<em>They’re gonna be pissed, Thel</em>,” Taran thinks, laughing to himself. </p><p></p><p>“<em>We shall see, but I suspect you are right</em>,” Thelbar replies, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Then out loud he says, “Gods help them if they come after us now. These drow are all in the throes of a foul temper—the sun burns them, their drugs cannot be had, and food must be rationed. I suspect they would tear the three to pieces before the first self-aggrandizing proclamation made it out of their mouths.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” Taran says wistfully. “Hey, you know who else needs a boot up their ass?” he asks. “The Harpers, that’s who. But I don’t want to write them a letter—we have to sell magic items anyway, so why not do it in Waterdeep? That way we can say ‘hi’ to Khelben what’s-his-staff and put him on notice too.” Taran stretches and yawns. “You know, I’m really starting to like Faerun. I really am.”</p><p></p><p>-----</p><p></p><p>The two brothers <em>teleport</em> to Waterdeep and hire a guide. Their guide assists them in obtaining accommodations, then leaves them at the gates to the Thayvian Enclave. The Enclave is a huge affair, an entire city-block walled and patrolled by dour-looking Thayvians dripping with magical armament and <em>permanenced</em> enchantments.</p><p></p><p>After presenting the impressive list of magic items recently snatched from the clutches of dead elves, the group gains admittance, and are shown a decadent courtesy that includes . . . well, anything. After partaking of all the food, drink and dancing girls they can stomach, they are ushered into a meeting with a high-ranking Thayvian representative. Thelbar’s <em>arcane sight</em> reveals that the saturnine man is a wizard of the highest caliber, and not a man to be taken lightly.</p><p></p><p>He is glad to make the acquaintance of such a pair of worthy individuals, he purrs, and hopes they understand that the Red Wizards would much prefer to barter for magic or services rather than spend the entirety of their liquid coinage on a wagon-load of magical items. Thelbar acquiesces, and the two wizards draw up a contract that includes the establishment of a Thayvian enclave in the Far Forest. (Provided, of course, that the local threats to life and limb can be . . . “managed”.) </p><p></p><p>In the end, the Red Wizards agree to enhance Arunshee’s Kiss (“Give her the best possible enhancement”, Taran instructs them), and turn over the debt-marks of several Waterdhavian construction houses to assist in the building of Taran and Thelbar’s new home.</p><p></p><p>After their business with the Red Wizards, the two boldly knock on the door at Khelben Blackstaff’s house. Or rather, they ask one of the friendly young guards at the gate to his estate if he would journey the quarter-mile to the main house and inquire if Khelben is home.</p><p></p><p>“Tell him the brothers Tar-Ilou request an audience at our earliest convenience,” Thelbar says.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Hey, Thel</em>,” Taran thinks, using the <em>telepathic bond</em>.</p><p></p><p>“<em>I know what I said</em>,” Thelbar replies.</p><p></p><p>Khelben sends the boy back with the message that he will be glad to have them for tea, implying that they are welcome to visit, but not for very long. Taran and Thelbar trudge up to the main house, passing several smaller outlying cottages as they go by. Khelben, as it turns out, is actually taking tea, and offers the brothers a cup along with some delicate biscuits. </p><p></p><p>“<em>What is this, the uncomfortable wing</em>?” Taran wonders silently as he fidgets in his hard-backed chair.</p><p></p><p>The grim brothers relate the gist of what they have learned about the Risen Goddess and her family since they pulled Khelbin from the clutches of the deranged vampire Gulthais. He nods attentively, but does not speak.</p><p></p><p>“The elven god Solonor Thelandir has joined our Mother in the <em>pasoun</em>,” Thelbar says. “In fact, the Eremathian Pantheon now numbers five: Palatin Eremath, Arunshee, Solonor Thalendiir, and the goddess Eilistraee. In addition, the lost elven god Asharladon, known to us as Iiam, stands with his mother Ishlok. Great changes are afoot, Khelbin, and we must all play a role.”</p><p></p><p>“Which brings us to my point,” Taran says. “It’s your Harpers, Khelbin. You know they strong-armed us out of Mistledale?”</p><p></p><p>“I did not order it, if that is what you mean,” Khelbin says.</p><p></p><p>“Well, I’m sure you didn’t, buddy,” Taran says through a smile. “And let me just set my usual tact aside since we’re practically blood brothers. Us saving your life and all. I have some good advice for you, and you ought to listen close.”</p><p></p><p>Khelben smiles, but his eyes remain hard.</p><p></p><p>“What you need to do, see, is back your Harpers all the way off of us. Set them on somebody less likely to end their careers on a sour note. ”</p><p></p><p>Khelben drops his smile. “I would deeply regret any violence, Taran,”</p><p></p><p>“Not as much as the entire rest of your organization would,” Taran says, his smile never leaving his face. “I’ll just cut out the diplomatic talk for now, because you and I have some history. So we should be sure that we’re clear. I’m not the Zhentarim, and when I’m provoked, I don’t plot and scheme. I remove the threat from this plane of existence. I don’t believe the fairy-tale that you don’t have influence with your Harpers, so what you should do is suggest that they spend their time and energy doing something productive, and leave us alone.”</p><p></p><p>“We do not threaten you, Khelbin,” Thelbar says. “We understand that mistakes are common in any large organization, and we hold you no personal ill-will. What my brother is trying to say is that we intend to keep our solitude, and as always will favor direct methods over surreptitious ones. Our faith teaches us that ‘<em>deceit is well termed a web, and the righteous should not touch it</em>’.”</p><p></p><p>“I see,” Khelbin says. “And what is next for you, then? Retirement in the Far Forest?” </p><p></p><p>“Oh no, nothing of the sort,” Thelbar says. “We have unfinished business with the Matron Mother in Menzoberranzan.”</p><p></p><p>“<em>And her fine-ass bodyguard</em>,” Taran thinks to his brother.</p><p></p><p>“The largest drow city in this part of the world,” Khelben muses. “I think you’ll find that it is surprisingly cosmopolitan, all things considered, although access is closely monitored. When you are ready, come see me again. I can help you gain entrance into the city. It is no mean feat, even for two as . . .” he looks at Taran,” direct as yourselves. Call upon me, and I shall gladly assist you.”</p><p></p><p>“See there,” Taran says, “We’re all good friends. I like you okay, Khel. Better than that old guy, anyway.”</p><p></p><p>As they leave the house, Taran says, “Sometimes I just want to kick wizards in their goddamned smug teeth. Except you, Thel. I love you.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="(contact), post: 719629, member: 41"] [b]65 -- Pen pals![/b] 65—Diplomacy without teeth is called ‘surrender’, after all. By the time that the first few chaotic hours have passed, several fights have been broken up, and the drow refugees are appointed to their temporary quarters within the huge dungeon that recently housed several hundred of their fiendish kin. ‘Group leaders’ have been appointed, more for the look in their eye and willingness to take the job rather than any verifiable merit. Khuumar wades through the ranks of the drow, informing them that they are now part of House Szith Moraine, and berating the worst of the addicts for their weakness. He calls it “edification” rather than “verbal abuse”, and Taran accepts his explanation. In the meantime, Taran and Thelbar meet with Gorquen, who relates an interesting tale of her own. Shortly after the Underdark group defeated the Nightmare Orb of Irae T’ssarion and released the infant goddess from her bondage, Arunshee appeared before Gorquen. As she had with Taran and Thelbar, Arunshee used the body of Kyreel for her avatar. The goddess informed Gorquen that she had placed her breath within the elven Champion when last they were together, as safekeeping against the foul plans of Irae T’ssarion. While Gorquen was battling with the last of Tar Elentyr’s foul allies, she carried the goddess’ essence within her. Thus, Kiransalee and her high priestess were unable to do any lasting harm to the babe, their violent and expansive imaginations notwithstanding. “[i]I am reborn, and I have come for what is mine[/i],” the goddess told her. In an instant, Gorquen felt some of the rightness within her pulled forcefully out. “[i]And now I have part of you, as well[/i],” Arunshee said. “[i]But I no longer take where I will not give[/i].” And with that, Gorquen felt a sensation long-missed, but never forgotten: wings upon her back! Sleek, ebony wings, in every way as perfect and beautiful as the wings ripped from her in her former life, but jet black where the former were white. “[i]Black suits me[/i],” Arunshee said, and then disappeared. “I like your new wings, Gorquen,” Taran says. “They look good on you. Very slimming.” ----- That evening, as he settles down to sleep in their new home, Taran takes off his boots for the first time in days. He looks at them, stained to the calves with blood. So many foes, so many stories. The foul, corpulent fire-giant priest of Tenebrous, Kurgoth Hellspawn, Irae T’ssarion and her clan. Taran determines to set them under glass, and keep them as a trophy. “The boots tell a lot about a man,” he says to himself. “Mine say, ‘[i]don’t f-ck with me[/i]’.” And laughing to himself, he falls into the deepest sleep of his young life, dreaming of Arunshee, and Nathè . ---- The next morning, the group has pulled the bodies of their enemies from the [i]portable hole[/i], and divested them of their magic items. They take a careful inventory, keeping what they like, and equipping Khuumar as befits his new role beside the Champions of the Risen Goddess. That evening, Thelbar and Taran hold a secret ritual, in which Thelbar makes [i]permanent[/i] a [i]Rary’s telepathic bond[/i] between the two. “All the better to think to you with,” Thelbar says laughing. After a long telepathic debate as to their next course of action, the two of them prepare a letter, to be sent to Elgin Trezler, Enae Enhallo, and Jumdash Dir. Gentlemen, We have the honor of addressing you from our new home far to the North. We greet you with the North Wind at our back and the holy names of Palatin Eremath, Arunshee, Lathander, Corellon Larethian and Tempus upon our lips. May this missive find you well, and at peace. We are at this time greatly concerned for your reputation, as many of the slanders you have spread about us are patently untrue. We are, like yourselves, engaged in the adventuring profession, and understand how such a life leads one to swift action, oftentimes before all of the facts can be determined. Therefore, we consider your destruction of our home, and our subsequent banishment from the Dalelands to be nothing more than a well-intentioned mistake, honestly made, and absent of any genuine malice. We are prepared, as good and right-thinking individuals, to offer you an opportunity to make amends for the unfortunate and ill-considered destruction of our home and property. An inventory follows, containing both the items of note ruined by your act, and the property value of our holdings in Mistledale, as well as a modest sum to encompass duress and inconvenience. The total amount is one hundred thirty three thousand gold pieces. We will pass the winter awaiting your decision, but expect you to have obtained the requisite funds by the beginning of Spring Rites or first thaw in Arabel, whichever should pass first. You will understand that due to the precarious financial position you have put us in, we cannot at this time afford to be flexible as to the due date for settlement. We hope that this winter finds you well, and may your gods and goddesses smile upon you, Taran and Thelbar Tar-Ilou. “[i]They’re gonna be pissed, Thel[/i],” Taran thinks, laughing to himself. “[i]We shall see, but I suspect you are right[/i],” Thelbar replies, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Then out loud he says, “Gods help them if they come after us now. These drow are all in the throes of a foul temper—the sun burns them, their drugs cannot be had, and food must be rationed. I suspect they would tear the three to pieces before the first self-aggrandizing proclamation made it out of their mouths.” “Yeah,” Taran says wistfully. “Hey, you know who else needs a boot up their ass?” he asks. “The Harpers, that’s who. But I don’t want to write them a letter—we have to sell magic items anyway, so why not do it in Waterdeep? That way we can say ‘hi’ to Khelben what’s-his-staff and put him on notice too.” Taran stretches and yawns. “You know, I’m really starting to like Faerun. I really am.” ----- The two brothers [i]teleport[/i] to Waterdeep and hire a guide. Their guide assists them in obtaining accommodations, then leaves them at the gates to the Thayvian Enclave. The Enclave is a huge affair, an entire city-block walled and patrolled by dour-looking Thayvians dripping with magical armament and [i]permanenced[/i] enchantments. After presenting the impressive list of magic items recently snatched from the clutches of dead elves, the group gains admittance, and are shown a decadent courtesy that includes . . . well, anything. After partaking of all the food, drink and dancing girls they can stomach, they are ushered into a meeting with a high-ranking Thayvian representative. Thelbar’s [i]arcane sight[/i] reveals that the saturnine man is a wizard of the highest caliber, and not a man to be taken lightly. He is glad to make the acquaintance of such a pair of worthy individuals, he purrs, and hopes they understand that the Red Wizards would much prefer to barter for magic or services rather than spend the entirety of their liquid coinage on a wagon-load of magical items. Thelbar acquiesces, and the two wizards draw up a contract that includes the establishment of a Thayvian enclave in the Far Forest. (Provided, of course, that the local threats to life and limb can be . . . “managed”.) In the end, the Red Wizards agree to enhance Arunshee’s Kiss (“Give her the best possible enhancement”, Taran instructs them), and turn over the debt-marks of several Waterdhavian construction houses to assist in the building of Taran and Thelbar’s new home. After their business with the Red Wizards, the two boldly knock on the door at Khelben Blackstaff’s house. Or rather, they ask one of the friendly young guards at the gate to his estate if he would journey the quarter-mile to the main house and inquire if Khelben is home. “Tell him the brothers Tar-Ilou request an audience at our earliest convenience,” Thelbar says. “[i]Hey, Thel[/i],” Taran thinks, using the [i]telepathic bond[/i]. “[i]I know what I said[/i],” Thelbar replies. Khelben sends the boy back with the message that he will be glad to have them for tea, implying that they are welcome to visit, but not for very long. Taran and Thelbar trudge up to the main house, passing several smaller outlying cottages as they go by. Khelben, as it turns out, is actually taking tea, and offers the brothers a cup along with some delicate biscuits. “[i]What is this, the uncomfortable wing[/i]?” Taran wonders silently as he fidgets in his hard-backed chair. The grim brothers relate the gist of what they have learned about the Risen Goddess and her family since they pulled Khelbin from the clutches of the deranged vampire Gulthais. He nods attentively, but does not speak. “The elven god Solonor Thelandir has joined our Mother in the [i]pasoun[/i],” Thelbar says. “In fact, the Eremathian Pantheon now numbers five: Palatin Eremath, Arunshee, Solonor Thalendiir, and the goddess Eilistraee. In addition, the lost elven god Asharladon, known to us as Iiam, stands with his mother Ishlok. Great changes are afoot, Khelbin, and we must all play a role.” “Which brings us to my point,” Taran says. “It’s your Harpers, Khelbin. You know they strong-armed us out of Mistledale?” “I did not order it, if that is what you mean,” Khelbin says. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t, buddy,” Taran says through a smile. “And let me just set my usual tact aside since we’re practically blood brothers. Us saving your life and all. I have some good advice for you, and you ought to listen close.” Khelben smiles, but his eyes remain hard. “What you need to do, see, is back your Harpers all the way off of us. Set them on somebody less likely to end their careers on a sour note. ” Khelben drops his smile. “I would deeply regret any violence, Taran,” “Not as much as the entire rest of your organization would,” Taran says, his smile never leaving his face. “I’ll just cut out the diplomatic talk for now, because you and I have some history. So we should be sure that we’re clear. I’m not the Zhentarim, and when I’m provoked, I don’t plot and scheme. I remove the threat from this plane of existence. I don’t believe the fairy-tale that you don’t have influence with your Harpers, so what you should do is suggest that they spend their time and energy doing something productive, and leave us alone.” “We do not threaten you, Khelbin,” Thelbar says. “We understand that mistakes are common in any large organization, and we hold you no personal ill-will. What my brother is trying to say is that we intend to keep our solitude, and as always will favor direct methods over surreptitious ones. Our faith teaches us that ‘[i]deceit is well termed a web, and the righteous should not touch it[/i]’.” “I see,” Khelbin says. “And what is next for you, then? Retirement in the Far Forest?” “Oh no, nothing of the sort,” Thelbar says. “We have unfinished business with the Matron Mother in Menzoberranzan.” “[i]And her fine-ass bodyguard[/i],” Taran thinks to his brother. “The largest drow city in this part of the world,” Khelben muses. “I think you’ll find that it is surprisingly cosmopolitan, all things considered, although access is closely monitored. When you are ready, come see me again. I can help you gain entrance into the city. It is no mean feat, even for two as . . .” he looks at Taran,” direct as yourselves. Call upon me, and I shall gladly assist you.” “See there,” Taran says, “We’re all good friends. I like you okay, Khel. Better than that old guy, anyway.” As they leave the house, Taran says, “Sometimes I just want to kick wizards in their goddamned smug teeth. Except you, Thel. I love you.” [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Risen Goddess (Updated 3.10.08)
Top