Adventure Log
- Friends and Enemies
- Aitun of Eoman (Jakob)
- Yargachin (Carson)
- Pebble (Gabe)
- Temuchar (Sonya)
- Mallein of Orden (Connel)
- Edric (Caleb)
- Nordor (Rowen)
- The Thing Beneath Ducane (November 834)
- The Barrow of the Green Stone (November 834)
- The Scouting Mission (April 835)
- The Battle (March 835)
- One Lucky Arrow (March 835)
- Spring 835
- Location: the Temple of Whispers
- Chin and Pebble in Morad (Spring 835)
- Aitun and Temuchar in Nestic (Spring 835)
- Summer 835
- Expedition to Tormar (Summer 835)
- Tomb of the Saint (Summer 835)
- The Day of Omens (Late Summer 835)
Friends and Enemies
Aitun of Eoman (Jakob)
An exiled Torman lord; he leads a small retinue as a mercenary band (Warriors of Eoman)
Goals
There is one primary goal in the mind of Aitun and all the Warriors of Eoman: to reclaim their homeland of Eoman, which was "taken away" from them in a civil war/invasion (see below) many years ago. They are all that remains of the "loyalist" army, and firmly believe, with the right resources, they would be able to return to their homeland as saviors, leaders, and heroes.
To this end, their primary goal is growing their strength. Unfortunately, due to their mercenary lifestyle, as well as a streak of bad luck, the band has only been getting worse off, and not even a dozen troops now remain due to injury, death, and abandonment. However, those who stayed are also the most devoted to the cause.
First and foremost, Aitun wants to preserve his current retinue--those who originally came with him from Eoman. From there, he's long been attempting to accumulate wealth, power, political favors etc so that he can rally an army and bring them through the Valdres to Eoman and lead them on a campaign for his homeland.
History
Eoman:
Aitun's family are the remnants of a long-ago important family in Torman, keeper of their stronghold. When The Fall happened, they managed to flee before the encroaching waves of forest, and settled at the edge of what is the modern-day edge of the Valdres, in what was once a minute village. Having brought power and a retinue with them to this place, known as Eoman, they quickly established one of the few spots of civilization that managed to be scraped out at the edge of the Valdres, and settled in as successful local rulers of for many years.
Aitun was born into this as a reality of his life, knowing the danger of the Valdres, and his family's success against it. For much of his younger life, he was trained and raised as the heir to lead the city, and was trained in the aristocratic ways, ancient customs and combat styles, and, most importantly for those still attempting to live in Torman lands, how to survive in the wilds of the Valdres. This was his reality until his early 20s, when a rebellion, composed of locals as well as jealous neighbors, rose up against the ruling family. What followed was a many year long war, which would fluctuate from hot, to cold, to hot again, and finally near the end, guerrilla warfare as Aitun and his men were pushed out of the city. For two years, their band of hundreds would attempt to survive at the edge of the Valdres, striking back at those who'd taken Eoman and waiting for their chance. But both war and the Valdres are dangerous, and as their numbers dwindled from hundreds to below fifty, these warriors slowly were forced further and further away, until they could not longer hold any sort of successful campaign against Eoman.
Early exile:
As the guerrilla war became less feasible, Aitun decided it would be wise to send out lieutenant-led squads and attempt to gather resources. He had chosen to venture south with a squad to Serulai, but was waylaid by the dangers of the Valdres early into the journey. Luckily (or perhaps not), he was saved by the Elves of the Valdres, who he came to owe many debts, only some of which he has managed to pay off. After years spent as a wildman of the Valdres with a few other survivors, he finally managed to free himself and his men, and continued on to the Freemarch, where he met up with the only squad, led by _LIEUTENANT_, who was the only other group he has managed to find since. Since his escape from the dangers of the Valdres some 8 years ago, he has been traveling in the Freemarch and nearby lands, attempting to succeed in his original goal to retake his homeland.
Modern-Day:
These past few years have been harsh on Aitun. Where once, after first coming to the March, he had nearly 20 men, he now only has 8 with him, due to the dangers of mercenary work, desertion, and general danger. Even as a noble, trained in their ways, he has overstayed his welcome, and is much more accepted as a harsh mercenary than anything modern nobility would associate themselves with, despite his best efforts. Harsh seasons and a lack of funding has drawn his retinue to desperate measures, and he is willing to take on practically any job that might shift his luck...
Contacts
The Warriors of Eoman:
- Ilian (M)
Archer Leutenant - Sala (M)
Morale Officer - Baisa (F)
- Atin (M)
- Sechne (F)
- Ellauc (M)
- Srixim (M)
- Doco (M)
Valdres Elven Contacts - Not necessarily any one elf, but any elf with power would be able to call on his debt. Similarly, he is familiar with some of their customs, and is able to get by in their society better than most non-elves.
Valdres Orc Contacts - Has taken on random work for or against various Orc bands. Doesn't have any personal connection with anyone, but may be able to find someone who can recognize him or his men, for better or worse.
Freemarch nobility - Most, if not all, know him and are generally tired of him, as most interaction turns into overstayed welcomes and handouts. If he could turn that relationship around, however, something may come of it.
Eoman Peoples - The current rulers would certainly know him and his men, and be very hostile against them--but are not actively seeking them out. Similarly, older people in Eoman would know him and his men. Whether they would be welcomed by the people is unknown at this time.
Yargachin (Carson)
A drifter and jack of all trades who makes a living with his daggers. Sense joining the troupe he has sustained multiple mortal injurys.
Goals
His goals are little to none of your business but because you asked... There was a Plague many many moons ago his father was trying to cure. A Towne doctor he was working alone on a medicine or drug that might wither the Plague. But, alas, he was far too short on resources and aid to do so before the Plague got his home town. Now Yargachin, with the last of his father's notes, seeks to search out the cause, the mystery, the foul plot maybe, that was the Plague.
History
Eat shart Jakob.
Contacts
I have a sibling maybe. Spoooooky.
Pebble (Gabe)
Female half-orc warrior, disciple of the Charred Bow, dispatched by the Unborn to kill the Spawn Eater. (Feel free to add more: personality, skills, theme song.)
Personality
Pebble is kind but not very outgoing, she is slow to make friends, but when she does, she is fiercely loyal. She is relatively new to the world of men and finds it both odd and intriguing. She is inquisitive, intelligent, and quick to anger. She has a natural and warranted distrust of elves and dwarves and prefers to travel alone and unencumbered.
Skills
Pebble is a tough and determined outdoorsman. The grueling winters of the north mountains honed her survival instincts to a sharp point. She cannot swim and has a natural fear of water, preferring ice and snow. Maps confuse her and she prefers to orient herself by the stars.
Theme
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAD2E-8XvoE
Goals
Destroy the Spawn Eater
Find my mother
Ideals
Loyalty is paramount to Pebble, she abhors betrayal and cowardice. She will keep her promises and exact vengeance upon those that break their oaths to her or to others.
History
Childhood
Pebble was born to an orc father and a human mother high in the Dragonmounts. She was raised in her father’s tribe, a distant cousin of the Greenskins that inhabit the Valdres. Her mother left the family and the tribe before Pebble’s sixth birthday, abandoning her daughter to a brutal life of near starvation and frostbite, and fleeing to the warm, comfortable lands of man that lay at the feet of the Dragonmounts —at least, that’s how Pebble sees it. While her father still breathed, he would tell the young girl stories of her mother’s adventures down in the land below, fighting dragons and mighty warriors, laying waste to whole armies in order to return to Pebble. As she grew, these stories rang more and more hollow. The hope which she once felt that her mother would return to her turned to a bitter, corrosive resentment. This resentment boiled within her, fueling her rage as the violent life her mother had abandoned her to scarred Pebble’s body and wore down her soul.
Half-Birth
Pebble's father was fatally injured in a hunt by a marauding mastodon when Pebble was twelve. The beast flensed his body, pulverizing his bones and stripping the flesh from his back with its mighty tusks before escaping the hunting party into the deathly embrace of a blizzard. Pebble’s father lay before her, pathetic and broken, gasping his last. She took his life, as is the custom of their people, and left him in a high place, that he might join with the sky. With her mother gone and her father dead, young Pebble was then called Half-Born, not quite fully Unborn, yet not a full child in the proper orc sense.
Tutelage
After her Half-Birth, Pebble was invited to begin training with the Unborn. In the eternal night of the winter months, they set about training her in their ancient ways. She was shown how to withstand the biting cold, orient by sense of smell, and wield a bow to deadly effect. Under their guidance, she began to hone her instincts, learning to channel the rage and betrayal held for her mother into a focused, meditative fury. Under the guidance of the Unborn, Pebble became a phantom of death, an unseen, unceasing hunter of the wicked and vile. Her quest to slay the Spawn Eater is her first real Unborn task and is proving to be a true test of her mettle.
Contacts
Mother: human female, possibly warrior, name unknown. Tall with long, curly red hair, like Pebble’s.
Unborn
the Unborn are a selective cabal of elite warriors. They are all orphans, each by their own hand. In their society, the future must always eclipse the past, either destroying it or learning from it as it does. The Unborn perform vital ritual hunts for the tribe, bringing down towering mammoths that will sustain and clothe their people through the dire winter months. In spring, their sights turn to mortal affairs. When war is made, the Unborn act as both recon and shock troops, scouting for weeks behind enemy lines and striking with surgical precision when the enemy is most vulnerable. When occasion demands it, Unborn will be dispatched to hunt down particularly dangerous or blasphemous foes, those individuals who’s very existence threatens the tribe’s future and way of life.
-Jor: orc male, Unborn, tall and broad, his arms and back are covered in ritual scarification. Jor tutored Pebble in the ways of the bow and the hunt, he is gruff and judgemental, speaking to Pebble as a parent lectures a child. He is proud of her and what she has accomplished but will not admit this fact. Pebble knows other Unborn, but is on best terms with Jor. He was a good friend of her father and her primary mentor, vouching for her induction into the Unborn.
Temuchar (Sonya)
A noble-blooded exile from the Mistlands. (Feel free to add more: personality, skills, theme song.)
Goals
What do you want to accomplish? What ideals do you uphold?
History
2-3 phases of your life so far.
Contacts
Interesting people who shaped you, or who we might meet again.
Mallein of Orden (Connel)
Arrogant and pragmatic, Mallein is out to find a fortune for himself in the untamed north. (Feel free to add more: personality, skills, theme song.)
Goals
What do you want to accomplish? What ideals do you uphold?
History
2-3 phases of your life so far.
Contacts
Interesting people who shaped you, or who we might meet again.
Edric (Caleb)
An Elicine monk, freshly raised to the rank of Peregrine. (Feel free to add more: personality, skills, theme song.)
Goals
What do you want to accomplish? What ideals do you uphold?
History
2-3 phases of your life so far.
Contacts
Interesting people who shaped you, or who we might meet again.
Nordor (Rowen)
Super cool dwarf wizard that throws rocks that explode
Goals
History
Everyone I meet seems to really either like my exploding rocks or hate them--can't impress everyone
Contacts
There were some nice people who...i am led to believe..don't hate me
The Thing Beneath Ducane (November 834)
We begin in a ferocious storm, much stronger than anticipated for this early in the season. One by one, four travelers (Aitun, Edric, Temuchar, and Yargachin) on the road make it to the best approximation of an inn that exists in the area, an old mill with a large common room. The innkeeper, a surly man sleeping upstairs, gives them room and board in return for some money, and accidentally reveals the existence of a metallic object under the rug. Once he leaves to sleep, but before the group can investigate, a local boy, "Nik" comes in for booze and stays a while to chat with them, much friendlier than the innkeep, eventually inviting them over for dinner the next day.
Once the room is again clear, the group investigates under the rug, revealing the presence of a metallic trapdoor. Aitun leads the way down it, and the rest follow, shortly ending up in an octagonal stone room underground. Only one door is accessible at the end, and following that corridor the party encounters some disabled or used traps. At the end of the corridor, they encounter a block of stone that (intentionally) collapsed down, with a dwarven corpse under it. Investigating the corpse results in a pouch of personal affects, but also a bloodthirsty worm, which launches itself at the party. Through weapons & magic, they dispose of it, but more worms follow them as they flee back to the octagonal room and, eventually, back to the safety of the surface.
As soon as they close the trapdoor and look away, it disappears, leaving them with few answers but what could be found in the pouch--a piece of paper with a strange symbol, a mostly-decomposed notebook with some writing (See "Furin's Notebook" in handouts), and some gold. With no further answers to be found below, and with the storm raging outside, the party decides to rest for the night and see what can be found in the morning.
worms don't like water or salt or silver
the amber can be melted with silver (they seem to be undead)
we went into the church dungeon and found zombies with worms inside of them
north was not north
we went to the priest who seems to know whats going on then we met George.
"we are all dead" -sad priest
its name is George (so as not to summon him)
he took over a wizard and we sent him to his hole and killed and not killed him
he seems to bend reality into two different realities on top of one another (Real and Altered)
gives you a mean headache
After our encounter with the demon at the priest's hut, we spend some moments recuperating. Edric reveals that he is unsure if the banishing spell he used worked or not. He claims that it felt as if it both worked and didn't. Smoke can be seen rising from the tower across the river.
The group decides to head back to the village and bring the priest with them. When they arrive back at the inn (which also has a water mill) there is much debate about whether to cross the river tonight or to wait for the morning. Soup is eaten by all, the priest remains insensible.
Around the time when it is decided that it's most likely too late to brave the crossing (especially since no one knows how to use a boat) Nick arrives. He wears no winter clothes and is incoherent. He is rambling about how there are too many beds in his house and that there are too many houses. He says he has a sister but can't remember her, then vomits. The group sits him down and tries to get some sense out of him, but he begins seizing. A voice that is not his own issues forth from his throat, "He's lying. He knew you would be here."
(sonya needs to finish this update)
The Barrow of the Green Stone (November 834)
After the daemon was defeated, Aitun, Temuchar, Yargachin, and Edric waited in Ducane for the storm to clear. About a week after their arrival in the village, a messenger arrived from Morad. He was a Greencloak, a member of a well-respected mercenary company in the employ of Lady Relgal. He sought to hire Eomun's Sons (Aitun's own band of sellswords, a week away in Nestic) on behalf of the Lady. Aitun quickly conferred with his new friends, and the four agreed to stick together for the job before going their seperate ways.
On the way north, the four learned more about the mission: plenty of silver (and the recognition of a powerful noble) for the recovery of the Ring of Hiran, a trinket desired by both Lady Relgal and the powerful Council of Stewards. The ring had been recently been in the possession of a certain merchant, now thought killed in an orc raid near Sorn's eye. Find the site of the slaughter and search the bodies; if the ring is absent, try following the tracks of the orcs. The four were also warned of danger beyond the orcs: riders would certainly be dispatched by the council to hunt down the retreating raiders. Many members of the council would happily claim the ring for themselves.
After a hard day's ride north, the four stopped in Morad for the night, staying at a high-class inn (the House of the Red Door) while their Greencloak companion made arrangements for fresh horses. Here they made the acquaintance of Mallein of Orden, a southern noble planning his own expedition northeast of Morad. Before retiring, Kaleg, a warrior in the employ of Lord Aminar (the most prominent member of the council of stewards) appeared, goading and insulting the injured Temuchar, and demanding that she stay out of Morad.
For the first time our eye leaves the four, following instead the Serulaian noble, and a lone orc...
Summary:
Mallein of Orden was exploring The Barrow of the Green Stone, final resting place of the sage Giltray with two stongarms and a knight named Sir Talger. After resting their first night in the tomb a troop of orcs attacked, killing the two strongarms and grievously injuring Sir Talger who was then taken captive. Also injured, Mallein fled to eventually find a female half orc who seemed to have no desire for his death. The half orc and Mallein then took shelter in a chamber locked by a riddle. It’s unlikely the orcs will solve the riddle any time soon but the duo don’t know of any other exits.
The Barrow of the Green Stone, final resting place of the sage Giltray
As told by Mallein of Orden
The Barrow of the Green Stone is an ancient Aeborian tomb which lies northeast of diamond lake. My research showed that this tomb had been plundered long ago, and through diligent effort, I found an account from a group which claimed to have discovered the sage Giltray’s true tomb hidden in the Barrow. The account also contained a partial copy of a map which I believed would lead to me to a far greater fortune if I could complete it.
Sir Talger, a knight sent from my fathers estates to fetch me home, was reluctant from the moment I enlisted him to aid in an expedition to the Barrow but he knew his obligation to my house. With Talger’s help I recruited two strong arms for protection and employed a carriage driver to take us to the tomb.
We arrived at the tomb as night fell and so I decided that we would shelter just within the tombs second chamber, a room with a convenient opening in the roof for our campfires smoke.
I woke to Sir Talger rudely shaking me, rambling about someone nearby. Talger could be an overly cautious man but I thought I’d sate his paranoia and wake the stongarms we’d brought. I had barely done so when three massive hounds crashed into the room, spittle flying from wide gnashing jaws. The first bit down on one of the strongarms legs as the others began lunging and snapping at Talger and I, trying to pull us to the ground where we’d surely have had no chance. I managed to stab the beast that held my mans leg but it only bit down harder, the leg releasing the sickening crunch of bones snapping. Our carriage driver, a man who proved remarkably courageous for one of such low birth, began dragging the wounded man away, letting Talger and I focus on the other two.
As we dispatched these, we saw a frightful creature, far larger and better muscled than any man had a right to be, making its way into the room. Absurdly large canines protruded from either side the things bottom lip and it carried an enormous battle ax over one shoulder, scraping it against the passages side wall. I commanded Talger to retreat lest his foolish pride lead him to disaster and we withdrew to the rooms far side where the carriage driver tried to pull the injured strongarm into the center most of three doors.
Things happened very fast then, a volley of arrows coming from what could have only been the opening in the roof felling the carriage driver as the creature from the doorway rushed across the room followed by numerous other hideous beast. I remained long enough to see Sir Talger thrown into a wall where he crumpled, his shield and presumably arm shattered by a swing of that first beasts oversized ax. As I fled, I too was dealt a deep wound across my chest but the pain did nothing to slow my flight.
I came to another room with four doors and followed the uninjured strongarm, who had fled at the first sight of the dogs, through one labeled “for the cowardly” in ancient Aeborian. A mystical trap whose nature I can’t describe killed the man I was following yet I made it to another set of four doors again attached to the room of monsters. During my mad dash I tried several of these doors, killing one of the monsters who I found alone.
Eventually while searching for an escape I found a creature similar to the monsters but with none of the apparent bloodlust the others had shown. This creature seemed to be female, with much smaller tusks than the others and far more human like features. She even had the civility introduced herself, giving a name that I forgot in the turmoil, before running with me down the last of the passages that I had yet to check.
At the end of this passage my companion and I found several of the monsters as well as the wounded strongarm who now lay dead at their feet. We killed these monsters though I don’t know how and found that one of the walls of this room was in fact a door of some kind which the monsters had been trying to open. Only through my knowledge of ancient languages were we able to decipher how to open the door and take shelter inside.
This is where I now find myself. In what seems to be a library of some kind, trapped by grotesque abominations with a creature whose nature I do not know, wearing only my now torn, burnt and muddied silken pajamas and with only my rapier to protect me.
We know not when the beasts will discover how to open the door to our current sanctuary but we also know of no way out.
as recounted by Pebble
I tracked the warparty for days through sleet and snow, footsoldiers beaten nearly as badly as the prisoners, all chattel under the lash of the one-eyed overseers. Something was off, Greenskins don’t take prisoners, let alone women and children like this.
No sign of my quarry amongst them, they appeared without leader though no chaos impeded their progress, their trail too straight, too purposeful to be an accident. They stopped only when all light was gone from the sky and broke camp long before sunrise.
On the fourth night of their march, they lit a great bonfire. I watched from a low knoll as one of the one-eyed bullies worked over a prisoner with a knife, before throwing him headfirst into the blaze. The other Greenskins held him in the flames with their spears. The wind brought me his shrieks and the smell of his flesh.
After a minute of writhing, he stopped and sat up, appearing to speak to the overseer that had thrown him in. This, I am certain, was the work of my quarry, a powerful and vile spell.
When he had finished speaking, the man collapsed, and the overseers split the party into two bands. The prisoners, four overseers, and around half the host stayed camped about the fire, while the other half, lead by the remaining two one-eyed brutes embarked south at a jog. Knowing human soldiery would certainly be upon this camped group before long, I tailed the second party south.
They ran through the night, the violence and determination of the overseers keeping the men in line, their whips rousing those that fell by the trail. As dawn broke, a small heath was visible upon the horizon. A thin wisp of smoke climbed from its crest, as though the rock itself were on fine.
As they approached the hill, the group spilt, a small contingent of archers climbed up toward the crest and the smoke, while the bulk of the party proceeded around the base out of sight. I climbed the hill after the archers.
I made short work of three of them, my arrows landing true and silencing them before they could notify the others to my presence.
The remaining three had slipped into a hole in the earth from which the smoke was billowing, peering down, I could see evidence of a brutal skirmish in a large crypt below. Two humans, unarmored, lay dead around the remnants of a campfire. A hound and a few orcs lay close by. One of the overseers stood over the crumpled body of a man, his face was white and smeared with blood and he spat into the brute’s face, an act of courage not common to their kind.
At this the overseer dragged him off, out of the room toward what I gathered to be an antechamber. The rest of the Greenskins in the room, perhaps ten or so, lay down to rest after their forced march.
Still, there was no sign of my quarry. The warparty had clearly split to come to this place, something here, must be important enough to the Spawn-Eater to drawn them. Had the humans found something? There were passages off the cave that appeared to lead down, deeper into the hill. Was there something down there the Greenskins were trying to find or protect? The opportunity was too enticing to pass up.
The archers’ corpses and a deluge of slush for the skylight made for an easy diversion, allowing me to slip into the passages beyond the now screeching Greenskins. The hallways sloped steeply down into the dark, cut far cleaner and more precisely than any Goblin hole I have seen. After a few minutes in the darkness, the sounds of movement reached me from the passage ahead. Someone was approaching, their steps shuffled and uneasy, their breathing quick and short.
It was a young human boy, dressed in a bizarre, shimmering fabric, rent and torn across the breast and spattered with blood. His face was white with shock and his fist clenched tightly around the handle of a ludicrous implement, more like a needle than a proper sword. Realizing he thought me the same as the barbarians who slaughtered his friends, I quickly introduced myself, explaining as best I could that I was an ally, and not a threat. He called himself “Mallard” and attempted to race back up the corridor when I told him his friend was still alive. He was frail, his muscles soft and unaccustomed to labor; in his wounded state, he would certainly have perished had I allowed him to proceed, but there was fire in his eyes, a desperate passion to save his fallen friend. An admirable, but ill-conceived devotion.
I still had not found what it was that my quarry sought, and in his condition, there was little chance of us escaping the way we had come, so we pressed on. Our path brought us to a small room, dominated by a massive iron door, decorated with the silhouette of a hand, split down the center by an evil-looking slit. A man lay dead in front of the door and two Greenskins stood over him, studying the handprint. We made short work of them, Mallard showing a bravery and skill unexpected for one so young.
I was further impressed when, through some sorcery, he was able to decipher a message hidden within the door itself. A riddle, the key to opening the door. After some trial and error, we were able to open the door, just in time too, as from down the passage behind us, five Greenskins came running. We left them to bleed out as the door sealed shut behind us. Leaving us in a small room filled with rotting wood.
My companion seemed particularly taken by an etching in the floor, what appeared to be a crude map of the surrounding country. I will never cease to be amazed by the triviality of man, why commit to stone what is plainly written in the stars?
[Aitun, Chin, Temuchar, and Edric follow the orcs. After Chin is wounded by a nasty trap, he rides back towards Borralac.]
The Barrow Of the Green Stone, pt. 2
After taking refuge in an ancient decaying library, I began searching our new surroundings for an exit or anything of use. The texts that filled the rooms shelves hadn't weathered their time in the place well and most pages crumbled at my lightest touch. Torches devoid of fat, wax or any other fuel lined the chambers walls, each with an inscription underneath which I now assume to have been written in a magical script of some kind. Of greatest interest to me was the map engraved onto the rooms stone floor. This seemed to be the map which had been partially traced in the previous tomb raiders account, and which I’d come here in search of.
Unfortunately I was without writing utensils and had no means of recording the intricate depiction. Frustrated and pained by the wound across my chest, I allowed myself to rest for a time while Pebble, my oversized companion, continued searching the room.
Having found no exit save the sealed door that held back the monsters chasing us, Pebble and I decided to attempt our escape before our light ran out. As we readied ourselves for a pushing through the creature outside the door flames began pouring through the doors edges. The massive iron door seemed impossibly to flex under the force of the blast, its collapse certain to follow. Before this could happen a booming voice proclaimed that these beasts couldn’t be allowed to leave this place with what they had come for. With this command the wall across from the buckling door blessedly crumbled.
Fleeing through this opening, Pebble and I came to the Hall of the Brave which I had found earlier in my mad dash for survival. One of the front two statues had been crushed by a partial roof collapse, but the other two remained impassive were they had been before. As we entered the room these two moved as though to attack, unsheathing weapons and approaching menacingly.
I closed the distance, distracting the stone creations as my companion launched arrow after arrow. Within a hidden compartment we found the source of the commanding voice: a strange bronze amulet. I took a deep cut to my shoulder in this fight but Pebble and I were victorious and managed to make our way to the tombs entry chamber where this nightmare had begun. Before making it out of the tomb Pebble and I found an odd bronze box, which the speaking-amulet indicated the orcs had been after. This we took along with its owners head, as its value and purpose neither of us knew. In the entry chamber I found Sir Talger. The knight was bloodied, murmuring deliriously and barely conscious. His shield arm bent horribly in the upper section where there would have been no joint. Still, just finding Talger alive delighted me and immediately improved my spirits. The monsters seemed to have left, perhaps having found what they sought or perhaps fearing a collapse, as I must say at this point much of the tomb seemed to be falling.
Finally outside the tomb I was eager to get medical attention for Talger, and indeed myself. Pebble accepted this gracefully, again giving proof to her surprising humanity. To my wonder, she insisted on following the monsters that had escaped on her own rather than following us to safety. I tried to convince her of this ideas foolishness but she was persistent, and after farewells we parted ways, Talger and I returning to Morad with the amulet, the bronze box and head as Pebble following the trail of her quarry.
I truly hope that woman hasn’t met an untimely end as I should like to show my appreciation if ever our paths cross again. Without her bizarre appearance in those tunnels Talger and myself may never have seen the light of day again.
Talger and I have now made our way back to Morad, each seeking treatment for our wounds. While my shoulder is nearly recovered I fear my chest wound may haunt me for quite some time. Talgers wounds were more serious and even with the treatment of Morads healers, I fear for his survival.
Pebble Picks up the Trail
It was strange departing from the young boy and his wounded companion. I felt a certain pain of loss parting from them. Although I had known poor Mallard for no more than a day, he had proven himself an invaluable companion, made of far braver mettle than his frail limbs and soft hands would imply. As I slung him the heavy bag containing the strange bronze box and its owner’s desiccated head, I gave him a departing note of wisdom; “Follow the Leaping Boar, the star that makes his tusk points the way. Move as fast as you can, and whatever you do, do not light a fire.”
As they left, the pair made a rather pathetic sight, leaning heavily upon one another as they limped out into the cold darkness of early dusk. The path ahead would no doubt be treacherous, but with luck and clear skies, they should reach Morad within a week.
I set myself to the task ahead. The fleeing Greenskins had left an easy trail, their hobnailed boots leaving heavy imprints in the soft soil. Three of them, one wounded, two dogs. Easy prey.
I caught them before dawn, slumbering about a smoldering campfire. I did not draw their suffering out, extending to them mercy they had not shown Mallard’s friend. I hung their bodies from the trees around the small camp, dousing the fire with slush and mud. They would not meet the same blasphemous, tortured end as their companions. Vile though their deeds were, I still extended them the honor of a proper interment in the heavens.
I slept the remainder of the night, huddled close to the still-warm rocks of the doused fire. A proper blaze would have been a welcome reprieve from the biting wind, but after what we witnessed in the tomb, I wasn’t sure if I could ever trust a flame again. The depravity of it, corrupting that element most sacred, most pure, and twisting it to his vile purpose kept me in fitful dreams of blood and pain.
Shortly after dawn, I set out, quickly finding the trail of the larger group. Mixed among their tracks were the unmistakable hoofprints of six horses. By nightfall, I had caught up to the riders, three of them, huddled by the side of the road. From my far vantage, I couldn’t make out more than their shapes, but they seemed to be forming a plan. I decided to steal ahead of them, seeing if I could find the Greenskins first and clear their path if any sentries were posted. I knew my quarry wasn’t among the warparty, but those one-eyed brutes were, and after what Mallard and I had seen, I knew these men were walking to their deaths.
The warparty was camped not far off around three smoldering fires. The slaves were positioned to the north of the company, surrounded by sleeping dogs and overseen by a glowering brute. Two sentries were positioned on small bluffs above the camp, they would be first felled when I saw the men approach. I could make out two more one-eyed task masters asleep close to the fires.
I didn’t have to wait long before the men made their move. From my vantage to the north of the camp, I could see one of them sneak silently up from the south, avoiding the piercing gaze of the brute by the slaves. As he approached, the sentry closest to the slaves slumped, stricken unconscious by some unseen blow. The other sentry didn’t hear the snap of my bowstring, my arrow catching him in the neck and dropping him with a light thud.
I quickly advanced to take the position of the collapsed sentry, he seemed lost in a deep slumber, and didn’t stir as my knife entered his chest. In the camp below, the one-eyed brute abruptly stood up, staring intently at something directly in front of him, and then setting off at a brisk trot toward the western edge of the camp. A moment later, the man entered the campfire’s pool of light, he appeared cloaked in shadow, some powerful sorcery no doubt. He approached one of the prisoners, a young boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen and pulled him away from the fire, into the shadows.
The movement roused two of the dogs. I put an arrow through the head of one and was knocking a second when the lumbering form of the wandering brute caught my eye. He was advancing up my hill, though he had yet to spot me, he was almost upon me. It was time to act, hopefully the diversion would buy the sorcerer enough time to escape.
Standing, I sent an arrow deep into the brute’s shoulder and took off running. I could hear the camp erupting behind me, the brute screaming to his minions as he raced after me. Whirling I sent a second arrow into his chest, he seemed barely to notice the pain. With a piercing shriek, Gristle swooped down upon him, his talons raking across the brute’s neck and covering me and the surround snow in viscera. As he fell to his knees before me, I could see his lips forming a silent plea as a familiar fire began to boil and drip from the rock lodged in his eye. Before I could react, a shot caught my right arm and sent me sprawling at the feet of the now shrieking brute.
In a brilliant flash he was ablaze, a violent inferno towering above me. Clutching my wound, I scrambled away, sprinting north into the maze of ravines, away from the auto-cremating monstrosity now drifting after me.
The remaining dog caught me as I fled, and though I dispatched it with ease, its arrival had left me exposed. The burning brute, now floating some ten feat above the ground sent a hissing bolt of fire down into the ravine after me, bathing the walls in a hollow, haunted black light. It caught me across my back, searing my flesh through my gambeson.
I didn’t look back again as I sprinted off into the darkness ahead. Not when I heard the terrible shriek that signaled the abomination’s demise. Not when I heard the ethereal, unholy voice calling after me.
I hadn’t killed him, but I had foiled his plot. The head was with Mallard, and by our hands, twenty-seven on the Spawn-Eater’s men, twelve of his dogs, and three of his captains lay dead. One thought remained in my mind, find Mallard. Together we would regroup and heal. There was far more going on here than I had initially supposed, and I alone would not be able to bring down the Unclean One.
The Scouting Mission (April 835)
1
After a winter of preparation, it was almost time for the amassed group to head out. Before sending over 100 men on their way, however, it was decided that a scouting party should be sent to determine where the army was going, and what it would find once it got there.
For this purpose a group, led by the Rangers Aitun and Pebble, was formed to go scouting in the Valdres, the best-known destination of the Orcs of the Defiler. Joining these rangers was the Warrior Temuchar, and, for stealthier approaches, the Rogue Yargachin. As winter just starts to fade, this group departs Nestic for the wilds of the Valdres.
The journey started rough, as their first stop was in the village of Alger, where they were unwelcome--locals were quite suspicious and withdrawn against these strange travelers, especially since they'd been having recent issues with wolves attacking their flocks, making the winter difficult. The party departed early the next morning, unable to restock or obtain information from the locals.
Riding north on their horses, they did not manage to find any trace of their quarry, despite journeying until nightfall. Come dusk, they attempted to enter the forest, seeking shelter from the harsh snow and winds--at which point the horses rebelled, fearful of the forest for no (discernible) reason. However, with some effort, the party was able to get their mounts into the forest and camp safely for the night without much incident. [NOTE: Was it a night without incident then the next night was the zombies? I believe so] The next day they continued northward, and finally headed east into the forest once they got close enough to their destination. Later that day, after making their way into the forest for several hours, they again made camp in the relative safety of the forest.
That night, strange things seemed to be afoot. While standing watch, Aitun managed to spot a [CROW THING NAME HERE] watching over their camp, which he made Pebble's bird catch to scare away. Later that night, he heard an incoming flock of crows, which proved to be an early warning of an incoming horde of undead. He roused the rest of the party, who set themselves against the threat. They managed to make it through the battle, but lost all but one of their horses, and Aitun sustained a serious wound from one of these undead. Luckily however, upon examination these did not seem to be minions of the Defiler, and so the scouting mission chose to continue onwards.
Later the next day, the group managed to find some temporary safe shelter in the form of ancient Torman standing stones, where they spent the next night sheltering from the sounds of more undead activity outside the perimeter of the stones. The next day they cautiously departed in an attempt to reach their final destination--the mountain of _MOUNTAIN_--by that evening. As they neared it, they encountered a giant aggressive bison in their way, who nearly attacked the party. However, by communicating with the creature they were able to calm it down--but quickly discovered the cause of its distress, as a pack of wolves appeared around it. As the bison fled, harried by the wolves, Pebble saw an opportunity to benefit from this, and began shooting down wolves for their pelts and teeth. Despite some minor struggles, this proved to be successful, and the party continued onwards with some additional resources.
-- TO BE CONTINUED - NEED TO WRITE ABOUT ORCS --
2
We encamped with the Greenskins at the foot of the mountain as we waited for the Flesh Priest to complete their arcane convening. Evidently, this Holy Mastication was an attempt to divine the intent of the One Mighty Gut, should their hosts flee further west or strike back against the abomination in defiance of his cruel designs.
The Warrior Prince, wounded greatly though he was, set himself to persuading the gathered chieftains to join our war party. While they spoke and ate, Temuchar and I climbed up into the windswept crags above. The steep paths we followed twisted back and forth across the granite face, interrupted periodically by ancient standing stones.
A short way into our assent, we came to a bizarre ossuary. Hundreds of bones lay scattered about a small plateau, we counted fifteen skulls among them. They were ancient and appeared untouched by the likes of Gristle. For his part, my companion refused to approach the ossuary, aligning on a nearby ledge and fidgeting nervously. Temuchar expressed a belief that this could be a place of ancient sacrifice, a belief bolstered by the large basin carved from the living rock of the mountain that stood on the far side of the bone field. The wall above the basin was carved in two rune panels, old Torman writing, according to Temuchar, though how she could distinguish between the various squiggles of men is beyond me. A trickle of ice wound between the two panels. Frozen though it was, it is difficult to imagine it being enough to fill the basin on its own. Temuchar believed the basin was meant to collect the blood of man, and I am inclined to believe her.
After an hour more of climbing, we found ourselves at the edge of a vast slide of scree saddling two peeks. Across the scree, I could make out the form of more standing stones and pillars, silhouetted against the setting sun, perhaps the entrance to a long-lost temple. Beside us on the cliff ledge were five cairns, one with a rusted sword raised above it. We left that place feeling unseen eyes upon us, and returned to the camp below.
That night, I was awakened from my sleep with a passionate, yet pungent kiss from Chin. A tempest raged around us. The winds howling and whistling tore at the lovesick rogue’s possessions as he screamed in vain for them to return his precious pages. The rest of the group appeared to be in various stages of sleep-paralysis, perhaps the doings of whatever creature had called up the wind.
Once Chin had secured the tattered remnants of his book beneath a sizable cairn fashioned from any and all heavy objects he could find strewn around the Greenskin’s camp, he beseeched me and the others to climb the mountain with him to recover his wind-stolen property. He babbled that the wind had taunted him “come under the moon and I’ll sell it back to you”. Whether or not this voice had really spoken to the addled rogue, I didn’t much relish the thought of him climbing the mountain alone and at night.
Not content to wait until morning, he set out immediately into the cold night above, and I followed him. What we saw upon that mountain, what words were spoken and to what sort of being, are best left between Chin, myself, and the Howling Sky. We descended enriched, indebted, and bearing a present for the young Mallard. I hope dearly he will enjoy the gift, for the cost of acquiring it was certainly beyond measure.
The next day, the Flesh Priests at last emerged from their catacombs, bringing confusing tidings to the assembled hosts. The Great Maw had remained shut, the Gut did not rumble. Thankfully, Eitan had managed to convince a few of the warlords to join our cause, promising six-score battle-tested warriors in the spring. The leader among the gathered chiefs, Graz, agreed to join us as well, his prowess and might will certainly be a boon to those on the front lines.
Before we bid farewell to the gathered council and returned to the wood, the most wizened of the flesh priests shared with us the origins of the Abomination.
Many years ago, the Spawn Eater, it seems, was once a flesh priest. A cunning student, a voice called him to pilgrimage beyond mountains. When he returned he brought the tainted flame in his soul. His voice changed and he spat prophecy about the end of the world. He turned against the Flesh Priests and slaughtered his tribe, devouring his children and growing stronger. Recently his minions have been preying on the western tribes, taking captives. He calls himself a god and some join him willingly. The fire within his soul powers and corrupts him, if it could be extinguished he would be destroyed.
As we left, the words of the Flesh Priests hung heavily upon my soul, nearly driving away thoughts of the strange apparitions of the night before.
Eitan bid his farewell at the forest’s edge, taking our remaining horse and the amulet and making haste for Mallard and our assembling forces. We turned our sights on the Wall and the blaze that lurked beneath its unbroken ridge.
The Rustlands were much faster going than the dense, suffocating wilderness of the Valdres. We followed the Old Road as it wound its way between blasted bluffs and across desiccated riverbeds. By the end of the second day, we spotted a small wood upon the horizon before us. Small shapes moved between the trunks, at our distance, i couldn’t quite make them out, but they lumbered with the hunched posture and resolute inattentiveness of trolls.
Approaching slowly from the east, we crept into the wood. A small, crumbling keep sat on a small hillock in the center, on the opposite end of the glen, in view of the towering ridge of the Wall, vile creatures labored to fell trees. My hunch was correct, they were indeed trolls, though as we drew closer, crouching among the moldering stones of the keep, we could see that their flesh hung from them in ribbons. Eyes milk-white and glossed over, they shambled with the same disassociated drive as the swamp things from the forest that had beset us on our first night. The zombified trolls, eight of them in total, were overseen by a taskmaster orc, still very much alive, but groggy and road-weary.
Behind the trolls, we could at last clearly make out the Wall. A large expanse of blasted rock and prairie stretched to meet its rocky slopes. To the south, a small creak tumbled down its face and wound lackluster through the scree at its base. The old road we had been following left the wood, continuing for the Wall. Along its length, standing stones lay shattered and toppled, looking not unlike a row of broken teeth. The road continued to the base of the mountains before zig-zagging up toward a black opening in the rock.
From that orifice issued a black, vile cloud of smoke and ash. Deep in the belly of the mountain, some devilish fire was alight, and as we watched, the trolls began bundling the felled trees and dragging them off, up the old road, toward the hole in the rock and the pyre below.
We resolved to stay the night in the keep, observing the comings and goings of the taskmasters and their zombified chattel. They returned again and again, cutting more of the forest to fuel the fire in the mountain. At times, a pinpoint of fire could be seen, hovering above the trolls, as though some roving, flaming eye was watching their work.
The plains that stretched between the woods and the Wall were empty, no sign of an army or encampment to be seen. The only movement were the processions of tree cutters, shambling out toward the forest and hauling their loads back along the Old Road.
We decided to make our move around midnight. We were to break southwest, following the small creak and climbing into the mountains south of the billowing smoke, making for the mountain pass and safety beyond. We were almost to the feet of the Wall, when Gristle shrieked, dived, and swooped off, alighting up the cliff face and out of sight. Not a moment later, the same ball of fire we had seen above the trolls descended before us, blocking our way. In its center was a black shard, the same blasted obsidian that had protruded from the eye sockets of the brutes I had put down the season before.
The eye, for indeed it was an eye, spoke to us. You have inconvenienced me greatly, there is only one law in this world, strength. As it spoke, billowing clouds of choking smoke issued from it, engulfing us in a cocoon of constricting caustic ash that lashed at us as though with unseen knives.
In that blackened hell, the eye summoned up unspeakable beasts of flame and soot. It was only by the workings of our frostmage that we were able to escape relatively unharmed. If ever we encounter the eye again, i will endeavor to pierce it with an arrow, for i believe, unless the obsidian core is destroyed, nothing can extinguish its terrible fire.
We beat a hard retreat into the mountains, not stopping until well after the sun had risen behind us, and the blasted plateau was out of sight.
The Battle (March 835)
The forces Aitun and Mallein gathered march on the fortress of the Defiler. The night before they are set to reach the battlefield Aitun and Temuchar ask for the dwarf mage Nordor to attend them. They ask her what manner of magics she wields and receive from her several runes of blasting which Aitun gives to his lieutenants in hopes they will help break the charge. Nordor is asked to ride with Aitun's elite unit when the time for battle comes. As their conversation is coming to a close Groz arrives. He has come ahead of the forest orc forces to gather information about where they will fight in the battle. The three (Aitun, Temuchar, and Groz) decide that the levies will be front and center with Aitun's warriors of Aeoman backing them up. The Wolves of Cherinal (the mercenary company) will be held in reserve. The spearmen will be split into two companies on each side of the main force. It is suggested that the orc forces split and each take a flank. Groz promises to discuss this with the orcs. During their conversation a great racket begins outside. The mercenary company that has been hired to do battle with them has picked a fight with one of Aitun's men. Aitun and Temuchar break up the fight with promises that there will be plenty of bloodshed tomorrow if they can just contain themselves until then.
The next day the company is joined by the orcs and arrives in the field before the Wall. Smoke is billowing from the door in the cliff where the Defiler dwells. As they arrive an eye is seen flying towards them from the door. Nordor shoots it out of the sky with a lucky shot and the company goes about setting up for battle. As the day progresses more and more smoke pours out of the door. Finally, a group emerges from the door. An army of the dead rises from corpses piled around the door and they are joined by cave trolls. The army readies itself as the cave trolls charge. Those of Aitun's men given blasting runes prepare to use them. The cave trolls charge forward followed closely by an army of the dead. The lines hold steady against the tide rushing toward them. Aitun's men hurl their blasting runes and the oncoming front falters. Several of the trolls go down but still the army comes on. The armies meet and the charge breaks against the forces of good.
The irregulars at the center are dangerously depleted by the charge and Aitun sends the Wolves forward to hold the center against the enemy. A runner brings news that the pikemen on either side are faltering. The party splits, Aitun and Groz going to one side and Temuchar and Nordor going to the other (each accompanied by some of Aitun's warriors). Aitun heroically charges through the faltering line yelling encouragements to the troops and helps to bring down a troll. With his help the pikemen push forward and retake the ground they lost. Temuchar and Nordor find the line crumbling and rush to shore it up. Temuchar is unseated from her mount and the situation looks dire. She sends a messenger to get help and fights with the pikemen against two oncoming trolls. They are soon joined by Aitun and Groz and together they bring down the trolls and hold the line. As the second troll falls they see a huge cave troll coming towards them out of the smoke that covers the battlefield surrounded by a guard of orcs, two of which have gems inset into one of their eye sockets. The troll carries a stone on its back that glows with the same light as the gems do. The the troll and its guard almost manage to push through the line, but one by one the party picks them off. At last the troll falls when the stone it carries is shattered.
Having stabilized the lines the party moves back towards the center, only to be met by an orc runner from the right flank. He tells the party that the right flank is breaking and that there are balls of fire demolishing their forces. The party splits again, leaving Aitun and his warriors to help hold the center, Temuchar, Groz, and Nordor move to shore up the right flank. Upon arrival they find that things are worse than they thought. Three balls of fire are moving through the field, advancing on them and the few orcs left defending. One of them stops and in a flash of fire two orcs standing near the party are burned away. The party watches as another rolls forward and consumes another orc. Temuchar tries to shoot at the flame to no effect. Nordor enchants Groz so that he cannot be harmed by flame (temporarily) and Groz takes on one of the balls of flame with his axe. Stepping into it, he finds that there is a skull and spinal cord in the heart of the blaze. Though it resists Groz is able to destroy the skull. When he does so the fire is extinguished. He moves to another and struggles with it while Nordor throws a blast of force at the other. The blast wafts the flame away from the skull and in that moment Temuchar shoots, wounding it. Groz still struggles with the other, and the enchantment is close to fading. At last he defeats it, and then, with almost no time left, he moves to kill the third. Just as it begins to burn him he deals it a devastating blow, killing the last of them. At the center of the battle, Aitun holds the line for a last, desperate push from the enemy. Just as the last wave falls, through the door in the cliff come eight floating, glowing eyes that raise in a circle over the battlefield, directly over Aitun and his men...
One Lucky Arrow (March 835)
On the eve of battle, Pebble, Edric, and Mallein discussed the plan, and Edric examined several magical oddities, including several interesting ancient spells. The Daemonic Amulet of Giltray was also discussed, with the monk taking a firm stance in favor of its destruction, but letting the issue lie for the time being.
The day before arrival, Pebble, Talger, Edric, and Chin split off from the army, climbing the Wall to seek out some hidden entrance to the Temple. Surveying the clifftop, they found the ruins of an old mining operation (intentionally caved-in), a derelict watchtower, an old Aeborian menhir dedicated to the North Wind, and a stand of withered and rotten junipers. Amid this copse, they found a well--through this they accessed a cistern, and found passage deeper into the old temple.
They emerged from a secret passage (likely unknown to the creatures of the Defiler); here they found a terrible ritual in progress, the burning of living prisoners to create hideous abominations. They gave battle--a dozen orcs were slain, and whatever daemon or spirit inhabited the flame-wraith was banished. The Defiler was invoked by one of his chosen eyes, but this too was thwarted, the spell broken by Edric, leaving only a dead fanatic. The Enemy was now alert, and Chin (in pursuit of a fleeing orc) heard another party on their way. The infiltrators hid, and through illusion and stealth got around their foes, plunging into a deeper level of the tomb.
But the long stairs were warded, and the enemy detected their approach. Five picked orcs, led by the obsidian-handed apprentice of the Defiler, stood against them in the hall. The battle was close fought--only a powerful illusion and a perfectly placed arrow saved the day, though Chin nearly perished.
With more enemies approaching, Edric assailed the sanctum with the last of his magic, breaching the magically sealed door. Inside they found only a terrible, blinding light, a light to overwhelm body and soul; only Edric's chant made it bearable. At the center of the room was a pit, closed off with a massive wooden grate. Some scorching gas rose from pit, making the air waver as it rose towards vents in the ceiling of the domed chamber. On a wooden stool in the center of the grate, mummified by the dry heat, sat the Defiler. He held the light--a crystal shard at the end of an iron rod. His head was ringed with 5 extra eye-sockets, carved into the skull, but now left empty--all 7 eyes missing, having only just appeared in the sky far above. The withered body was naked, except for a necklace of glass fingers.
Pebble kicked the body down, shielding herself from the heat and otherworldly light. The rod fell through the grate, far down into the pit. She severed the head, and burned the body on a pyre.
A hoard of treasure line the back wall of the chamber--a fortune in gold and silver, arrows tipped with dragon's teeth, a horned helmet with a grotesque visor, and several old spellbooks.
The morale of the remaining defenders shattered quickly with their leader destroyed, and the 3 heroes carried their wounded companion out the great door of the Temple. Here they looked out over the plain, and found the battle won.
Spring 835
Stronghold
Mallein arranges for 1 team of miners to reopen the old mine, and another to open the deep shaft. A team of builders begins restoring the old stone watchtower to usability. Aitun recruits a squad of soldiers, a new core for his army.
All told, the loot from the temple amounts to 1121 Gold Crowns (a substantial fortune). The freemen troops are sent home with their lord's silver--250 crowns as a gesture of goodwill. 30 GC are paid to the Wolves as a bonus--they leave in excellent spirits. 5 GC are distributed to the irregulars (50 sp for each PC, personal cash). At the end, 737.4 GC remain.
Almost 80 men camp below the old watchtower. The wagons come every 5 days.
Players
With the battle won and the Defiler gone, the leaders of the exhibition find themselves wealthy men. Others set out on their own business, wrapping up loose ends...
Aitun of Eoman
Travelling into the march to recruit a squad of 20 soldiers. Half are picked men from the Battle of the Smoke.
Chin Burakh
Chin has a fugitive to find, a debt to a wind-god.
Brother Edric
Edric's intends to report back to his superiors, for a start. With the end of the crisis, he may also press for the destruction of the Amulet of Giltray.
Pebble
Repaying the Necromancer with the Amulet of Giltray. Trying to find the Wind-God's victim (can come back later). She also intends to return to her home, her mission successful.
Mallein of Orden
Supervising work on the mines, and exploring the Temple of Whispers.
Nordor the Dwarf
Recruited by Aitun.
Temuchar of Arsek
Having won gold and glory, Temuchar will stick with Aitun and his followers for now.
Location: the Temple of Whispers
The Cliff
Nearly a third of the way up the Wall, a stone platform extends ~30 ft from the cliff face; here, the massive wooden doors of the Whispering Temple are set, sheltered by a slight overhang. A large stone stands at the end of the platform.
Switchbacking stone steps lead down to the plain below. They appear to have been used only a little by the Orcs, who preferred the Soot Tunnels, tight passageways which open on the base of the cliff, and access the Fissure Hall directly.
The Star Stone
A massive standing stone, carved with astronomical diagrams and large central hole for observing certain stars. Casts an odd shadow during daytime. Apparently untouched by the Defiler.
Upper Temple
Offering Hall
The first chamber of the Temple of Whispers is large, its high ceiling supported by rows of wooden columns. Large friezes on the walls, partly obscured by slime and soot, show scenes from the Tale of Seimar’s Sons. A large flat stone served to hold offerings (and the hideous rituals of the Defiler). This hall was badly damaged during the infiltration—a column has been blasted apart, and the ceiling partially collapsed.
Many archways line the walls, leading into the old treasury, the upper crypts, and the river room. A door in the northwest corner opens onto a spiral staircase, which leads to an old living area, mostly collapsed.
Old Treasury
This low-ceilinged hall was once closed off with heavy doors, but they are shattered. If any offerings were left when this place was abandoned, they are gone now, save for rot and debris.
The orcs used this chamber as a midden.
Upper Crypts
The central chamber here is a mortuary, holding a few biers where the dead would be prepared. Many niches line the walls, most sealed with clay plugs sculpted to resemble the dead. Some have been broken, revealing only heaps of dry bones.
One of these plugs, opened by the orcs (or even earlier?) concealed a spiral stair, which descends all the way to the Guardian Crypt in the Lower Temple. This stair was used heavily by the orcs.
River Room
This ritual chamber was once divided from the offering hall by two tapestries or shrouds. All that remains now is rotten tatters. A constant drizzle of water into the deep channel on the floor divides the room in two—a symbolic “river” to ritually cleanse any supplicants, and keep out unclean spirits. Possibly it has some magical properties.
Eight narrow passages lead out of the west side of the room into the labyrinth. This side seems totally unused by the orcs.
The infiltration team emerged from a well-concealed secret stair here. This hidden passage winds all the way up to a cistern near the top of the cliff, which they accessed by a wellshaft in the ceiling. Two sluices, labelled LOWER and RIVER, allow water to flow from this upper cistern, though the one labelled LOWER is stuck shut.
Labyrinth
A criss-crossing network of passageways, designed to test supplicants who sought the Idol Room. In places, the tunnels rise and fall; quite possibly they duck and climb over each other in places.
At each of the many forks is a wooden column carved with three faces, each looking towards on of the passages. One face is a man’s face, twisted with rage, with the tusks of a boar; the second a bearded man with gold eyes, the third a snake. A repeated pattern allows easy passage through the labyrinth—the angry head leads back to the River Room, but the Golden-Eyed head leads towards the Idol Room.
The Serpent heads seem to lead downwards and towards dead ends.
Idol Room
The dark, tight passages of the maze take one last sharp turn, and then open onto a well-lit, domed chamber.
An eternal flame burns at the center of the chamber (a bronze sun-sphere on a pedestal, no doubt the Idol of Shaulk). Stone and wooden Idols of the high gods and numberless lesser spirits line the chamber.
Dozens of iron-grated vents are set in the floor. Most likely, this chamber, placed somewhere above the Prophecy chamber, once had its own supply of the vision-inducing gas. In any case, the flow has stopped with the death of the Defiler.
In the far corner of the chamber, there is one odd statue set against the wall--a laughing scribe with two faces. It concealed a secret door to the Scriptorium.
Scriptorium
A natural cave, carved to serve the ancient priests as a library; a thousand scrolls rot here. Unlike the Labyrinth and the Idol Room, this chamber has been visited by the orcs--ransacked, in fact.
Lower Temple
Fissure Hall
A broad natural cave, with a ceiling supported by stacked stone pillars. There are gaps in the floor, and a watery chamber lies below. The sound of flowing water echoes through this hall.
Several small, crude tunnels lead out the eastern wall, towards the surface. The orcs used these to flood the battlefield with smoke, and to quickly pass between the lower temple and the surface.
A door in the west wall leads into the Guardian Crypt.
Lower Cistern
A huge, flooded chamber. The ceiling is supported by a few natural pillars, and heavy columns made of stacked stones. The sound of crashing water comes from the south side—perhaps it flows out into some deep cave.
Guardian Crypt
This room was once very grand, but a terrible battle has taken place here--the stone walls are scorched and melted, the north wall partly collapsed, and the shattered bodies of several ancient mummies litter the floor. From inscriptions on the walls here, these were likely high priests, set here to defend the tomb. They seem to have been defeated by the Defiler.
A cracked pedestal dominates the chamber, but there is nothing upon it. Most likely, it once held the Crystal Rod, which now lies down the shaft in the prophecy chamber.
The floor in the eastern section has been badly weakened, and is not far from collapsing into the cistern below.
An ancient door in the western wall allows access to the prophecy chamber.
Prophecy Chamber
A fairly small and simple circular chamber with a domed ceiling.
In the center is a wooden grate, composed of thick beams, covering a dark shaft 15 ft in circumference. Scorching hot gas once rose from the shaft, baking the body of the Defiler, but the flow seems to have stopped with his defeat. Vents in the ceiling carried the gas further upwards.
In all likelihood this was the true sanctum of the temple, where the favored druids divined the will of the gods. Perhaps in those days the flow of gas was weaker, or cooler; no living thing could survive the Defiler’s flow for long.
Chin and Pebble in Morad (Spring 835)
Part 1: The Hunt for the Mole Man
As recounted by Pebble over a leg of mutton on a wind-swept steppe
We arrived in Morad not more than a fortnight after our assault on the lair of the defiler. The city in spring assailed me with new sights and, more importantly, smells, the likes of which I had never imagined. For days, it was all I could do to keep from being sick, and I found myself thinking longingly of the mountains and of home. Nights were spent in fitful sleep, unremembered nightmares assailed me, heightened by the constant hubbub of the city’s rodent, and rodent-like inhabitants.
I took the first opportunity to repay mine and Mallard’s debt to the enchantress at the witch market. She appeared overjoyed, a truly hideous thing to behold, upon receiving the daemon amulet as payment. Our debt settled, I sincerely hope to never have occasion to speak to her again.
After the witch market, Chin and I set about locating the thief. We had a name and a short description, and after several weeks of inquisition, we learned that he had paid handsomely to be protected by a gang of thieves known as the Fist. These wretches were, coincidentally, known to Chin. Evidently, the coward had earned a fortune selling snake oil cures during a plague, and had paid a large sum to the Fist to keep him hidden.
As luck would have it, we soon discovered that Chin’s childhood friend is the leader of branch of the Fist in Morad. This leader, Danol warned us away, but we continued to press, leading, eventually, to me being pursued be the Fist across the roofs of the city, in a haphazard dash as a distraction, while Chin ferreted out the coward’s hideout.
Resolute in our determination to repay our debt to the Wind Spirit, we decided to assault the hideout in the early hours of the morning. While I had held back against Danol on the rooftops, I doubted if I could restrain myself if he were to confront us again. For Chin’s sake, I hoped we would not find him that morning.
Aitun and Temuchar in Nestic (Spring 835)
It was decided that Melaine will stay on site as artifact expert, while myself (Aitun) and Temuchar would venture into Nestic to accomplish several things:
- We must set up a supply chain to keep our men fed--although the beancounter can handle the details. It's also quite vital that we get in contact with Southern merchants to start establishing external trade
- Once we arrived in Nestic, we found that some people are curious about why we're remaining. We must fend off these questions to prevent prying eyes.
- And of course, most important to myself, men must be hired.
After a few weeks in the city, we received a letter from the Lady Relgal inviting us to a summer banquet in Stonebridge. We were most glad to accept, and prepared to depart.
I obtained a horse, who I have named Spot.
On the road to Stonebridge, we encountered a man spewing the words of The Church to any who would pass him by. At first we decide to share his camp and engage in conversation, but he began talking about how "the signs" have begun to come and the apocalypse is upon us shortly. While he had interesting news about civil war in the nine cities, we had little desire to be surrounded by his false religion for the remainder of the night, and travel through the night to make it to Stonebridge rather than spend more time with him.
We make it to Stonebridge, sleep for the night, and join the Lady in the afternoon. She gives us her thanks for retrieving the ring, and we engage in some pleasant conversation over lunch. However, we notice it to be somewhat quiet and secretive, with no other attendees, and discover that this was all a cover--she wished to talk with us without attracting overt attention! We discuss Melaine, and I offer to set up a meeting between the two of them, without revealing any real details of our mission at camp. Eventually, her true topic comes up, as she mentions the matter of southern rule in the March, and how perhaps self-rule would be must better for all involved--a subject which I hold most dear myself, and strongly agree with.
As a result, we agree to help with some of her early efforts--most notably, an early, secret diplomatic mission, led by myself, to establish communications with the Homeland, Tormar, in the summer! This could not be a better time for me to establish my return home, and with powerful backers as well who I can gain favor with by doing so.
And so, after the details are determined, we depart to Nestic and plan the trip for the next season. Along the way home, Temuchar reveals some key details I had not known previously about her--she used to be the handmaiden to the princess of her country, which is a key part of why she has such a dispute with Aminar, as he assumes her to simply be a lowly "maid". It is most understandable to myself how this could cause such friction, and is a quite useful look into the otherwise opaque Temuchar.
Summer 835
Stronghold
Under Mallein's direction, work continues at the site. The tower is not yet restored, and without more laborers, will not be finished before winter (10/35 at the start of Summer). The entrance to the old mine is cleared a few weeks into the season; preliminary exploration by the miners has revealed a handful of barren, exhausted tunnels which once followed veins of iron. A deeper, exploratory shaft leads far downwards, perhaps connecting to the deep caves beneath the temple. For their part, the miners seem reluctant to push deeper.
Players
As work continues at the temple, Aitun and Talger both lead missions arranged in the spring...
Aitun, Nordor, and Temuchar
At the behest of Lady Relgal, Aitun leads an embassy to Tormar, hoping to gain allies in the March and in his native country.
Talger, Edric, [C2], and [R1]
Pebble
Chin Burakh
Mallein of Orden
Expedition to Tormar (Summer 835)
Ah, Aitun has told me that I will be writing the notes for this expedition that his men, Temechur and I are going on. He didn't give me much info, he said I could die though, so hopefully that doesn't happen. I somehow convinced him to take my magic rune in the form of a necklace in order to protect him. Fortunately, Temechaur and his men were more willing to accept my few runes I had in preparation for them. We begin our small adventure in the morning and are greeting by two unfamiliar faces, tall man in a grey cloak, Gernis and another man, they seem to be talking about coming with us on this expedition. They seem like a cool bunch. I kept falling behind on my pony during the initial first few days of journey towards the woods, everyone kept riding ahead of me, I got to know of of Aituns men as they made sure I didn't get lost behind everybody.
After a few days of travel, we finally reached the forest! It's so gorgeous! There are constant birds and bugs living here, the sounds that emerge here are quite intense. The first couple of nights are uneventful, Temechur and Aitun as well as his men usually take watch (which means I can attempt to sleep) On the 3rd night, Aitun rose us late in the night in worry. The forest had fell silent with only the consistent sound ringing from it was an axe hitting a tree. I wanted to check it out so I started walking towards the , but Temechur pulled me back and Aitun and his Lt went to investigate. Not too long after they left, the chopping ceased and Aitun returned with his Lt, slightly shook. Apparently it was a gross slimy dead guy who charged at them and then exploded into black leaves when they stabbed him, AHHHH OH JEEZ I'm so glad I didn't go on my own. The sounds of the forest start up again and we all try to get more sleep before the morning.
The Journey the next day is uneventful, the road is very tight and windy at this point. Not the best for trade is the talk I've been hearing from the two humans who joined us, they either look happy or sad depending on how the road looks. During the midday, we all reached a clearing where ivy had consumed a group of long dead travelers. The skeletons of the humans and horses look quite old, no one was quite sure how they died, Aituns men were muttering about the ivy killing them or maybe some unknow entity. Aitun was bent over near some of them for a bit, I couldn't tell if he was looking for something in particular or not, but all I know is there was some money in those other armor pockets that had not quite decayed. I slept super well that night but Aitun looked really on guard the next day, as did Temeuchur. As we continued along the really...really terrible swampy roads that day, (there was one good one, that everyone thought I knew about cause stone..but..I don't know anything about stone) we stopped quite suddenly with Aituns hand. Aituns Lt dove into the bushes and Aitun ordered all of us to continue along the path. Aituns Lt jumped from the bushes calling for him and just as soon as he emerged from the leaves...there were Elves!! They had muddy black jaws and other face paint over their bodies, but almost didn't look alive, they were all so still. Their piecing eyes stared at us and questioned our motives, but ultimately let us pass. Such stoic, beautiful creatures, Aitun does not seem impressed. We continue on our journey with no more trouble.
Later on that day, we made it to Tormar! Aitun is reunited with his cousin, [Ayodh] who runs this town, he is quite talkative. Our party makes their way to the towns tavern where Aitun drinks a lot, I drink a lot and I..think people make fun of me. The mead is delicious and [Ayodh] keeps talking, asking Temechar about her life, elves, hunting and drinking. Apparently we are all doing boar hunting tomorrow morning, I almost wasn't invited since I'm so small but I'll show them! I'll throw my explosive runes at that boar. The night continued with drinking and merry making and Aitun becoming progressively more drunk and his cousin hitting more and more on Temechar.
That next day, early in the morning, we all gathered to start the boar hunting. The hunt started out quite fast, everyone overtook me as they rushed by with their regular sized horses. I lost sight of the boar as well as Temechar and Aitun, but I continued forward with my pony. As I finally got to the edge of the trees, there was a clearing, where a massive serpent like dragon lay. The body was curled slightly with the neck upright, Aitun was curled in its tail, Ayodh was running towards me and Temechar was low to the ground ready to attack. I took aim at the creatures head but shifted last minute and my bolt went wide. The serpent continued to massively lunge at all of them, saliva dripping from its keen teeth. I ran up closer and shot a spell, but it seared past its head. The serpents eyes shot up and met mine, and in almost an instant shot over in front of me. I couldn't quite dodge and its teeth pieced my leg. Pain shot through my body and I tried to get farther away by slowly crawling, the serpent ready to strike once more. Luckily Aitun and Temechar landed some hits and the Serpent, bloodied and visibly tired, slithered away in a whirlwind. The pain seized me at that point, I could only remember bits and pieces, of Aitun being unsure of the true cure of the poison and Temechar yelling but swiftly following after the beast. After that, it is simply black, pain and uncertainty.
I heard Temechar's corse voice coming from the door and Aitun sounding quite astounded, after some chatter, Aitun lifted me up and told me to eat. Once I took a a bite, I instantly felt better! Who knew that the heart of the serpent dragon cures its poison? I didn't. I'm so happy this expedition didn't kill me. We then packed up and made our way back home.
Tomb of the Saint (Summer 835)
Doleius's journal day 3
We met in Sarvon, south of Nestic, and I revealed the true dangers and five trials of the Tomb.
Upon leaving the town we ran into some members of the Fist, dressed as soldiers. I bribed them and we quickly moved on. They were quite drunk and did not take notice of anyone...
In the foothills of the Three kings we had our first combat, the mage Edric seems competent. I'll have to hire him for later missions. I learned Odonghe has a strange pet that is quite useful in combat... I wonder how easily another could control it.
The first trial was simple enough, the hand fit well. The second was concerning as it appeared the flames burn some more than others; an extra step was required.
The Day of Omens (Late Summer 835)
The day had been warm and pleasant in the camp; the work teams were celebrating the early arrival of a pair of supply wagons bearing ale and fresh meat, and work was preceding nicely on the old watchtower. Deep below, the excavation was thought to be nearly finished, the miners having detected a small flow of cold air the previous day; they believed a breakthrough would be imminent.
It began a little after noon. A low breeze rose rapidly into a howling, freezing gale out of the northern mountains, strong enough to tear open some of the tents in camp. This was only the beginning--over the course of a few minutes, the sun dimmed and then went out, its light extinguished but for a rim of gold, so that it was as night, and the stars were plainly visible. Stars fell in great number, making blue streaks across the sky, a shower falling from north to south, though in the terrible wind few took much notice.
About half an hour after the first gust, the wind suddenly receded, and the sun began to regain its strength. The rising twilight revealed great numbers of small birds, dead upon the ground.
Many of the men whisper about the coming of a second plague, or the Day of Judgement. The day's omens are almost universally thought of with dread.