| Author |
 Topic  |
|
|
Arravis
Seeker
USA
93 Posts |
 Posted - 19 Apr 2004 : 16:07:58
|
First of all... here's an image of our group that we commissioned, so you'll get an idea of the character's involved:
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/attachment.php?s=370c73d57fbbce6b40ccc801fcff3aba&attachmentid=13862
I'm posting this for my fiancee, on her request. Anyway, this is her in-character journal for the Forgotten Realms campaign I'm the main DM for (everyone in the group has DM'd in this campaign at least once). Every character in the party has a fairly extensive history which is ussually kept from the other player's unless asked about in-game. The journal reflects this, showing only Nydia's (her character) point of view, but over time, the mysteries of each character are revealed bit by bit (this includes Nydia herself, which has some of the biggest secrets in the entire party).
I try to run a fairly unusual and, hopefully, interesting game as will come across in this campaign journal. It's a heck of an enjoyable read. For me at least though, it's more then that. I've been quite stunned by it, she does a great job of capturing so much of what was there and enhancing it all in just the right ways. I am also including a few images from the campaign (posting them all would take up way too much room).
Mostly though, I hope that all of you enjoy this ongoing story (more will be posted, the journal is a few months behind and she's working on posting the rest :)). It's not my story as a DM, for honestly all my events are fairly mundane, it is the player's story. What truly makes a good tale interesting isn't the events surrounding it, but the people involved. It is that human drama that we all find fascinating and want to share in. Enjoy...
-Arravis
P.S.: Comments and suggestions are welcome, I'm sure she would love to hear what everyone thinks of this.
In this world, we walk on the roof of hell, gazing at flowers. -Issa
30th of Alturiak, 1376 D.R.
I am writing this journal in the pages of my old journal, as it, my books, and scrolls were wiped clean during my trip. I am loath to say that my scrolls and writings were not the only things taken from me by Her wrath. All my learning regarding the Art, all of my arcane wherewithall, is also gone. I cannot cast even the simplest of spells, nor can I feel my gift. For now I must rely upon what skills *a word here has been scribbled out, the word “she” has been written over it* has taught me. I only wish I had paid more attention to her instruction. If only…
I arrived in Phlan last week, having spent near a tenday trudging through that wood, and thus far I have learned nothing. The city’s once celebrated library is destroyed, as is the Scholar’s Square that once stood here. I can attempt to make it the long way to Candlekeep, but the passage and the necessary donation required, I do not possess. This would never have happened back home. I must cease this entry for now, as someone is knocking at my door. I wonder who it could possibly be this early in the morning?
Ahh.. The landlord. What could this be about? I’ve paid my room fees.
30th of Alturiak, 1376 D.R.
This morning found me evicted from my room at the inn, yet this evening finds me evicted from the city of Phlan altogether. Digging for what I could find in the old mansions, I found only a half ruined tome..and trouble. Why I did not run when I had the chance, I will never know. Perhaps it was my great desire for adventure, though if that was the case, I shouldn’t regret it so. Perhaps it was as *a word here has been scribbled out, the word “he” has been written over it* had hoped to impart, a sense of righteousness and compassion? Whatever the reason may be, I now find myself in the company of four strangers.
None of their names are known to me. We were run from the city by guards intent on our deaths. What will become of us now, I do not know. What will become of my quest I know less. I only know now that I am cold, wet, and reek of sewage from the tunnels that we were forced to flee through to escape our peril.
It is night and we are outside the walls of the city, not daring to light even the smallest fire. It would appear that the others wish to find a way back into Phlan now. I am being urged to go with them
It is now several hours later and we, a motley crew indeed, find ourselves back in Phlan. After wandering through the cold night about the wall seeking entrance into the city, we were discovered by a guard patrol led by the fair Lt. Evandor. An explanation of our plight earned us an audience with Geth, one of Phlan’s esteemed councilors. Geth promised justice to the young elven child, whose name I now know to be “The Snake,” and to the centaur, whose name is still unknown to me.
We were all escorted then to “Mother’s” a poor quality, but oddly inviting inn, where we would be promised shelter. Daggers and men skulking through the night to end our lives rendered that promise worthless. We were set upon, and the child “The Snake” became poisoned.
I was forced to attack a man. I nearly killed him. I’ve always known that at some point I would be forced to kill someone, and I was even trained knowing that would be my lot…but still, I could not bear to watch that man die. I would be like watching it all over again.
I couldn’t do it. I used one of my potions to save him, so he lived. The guards took him away. I don’t know his name either. So fleeting are events…its very sad.
“The Snake” was brought to The Waiting, a temple devoted to the God, Tyr, where he received the healing he needed to purge the vile poison from his body. It seemed Geth’s promise of justice was premature as well. Stretchers and litters soaked with blood lay everywhere in that temple, and nearly 20 men moaned and bled around us.
To ease “The Snake” I played my harp for him. Music truly is the most wonderful medicine. I played till he slept, and played afterwards, calming the hearts of whoever I could. It warms my own heart to do such good. My strings sang until I could play no longer. Now I too am compelled to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow will see the sun shining more brightly. The moans have died down and the wounded sleep. I will dream sweet dreams of being elsewhere, in a place far from this.
1st of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Today was a busy day, but at least I was allowed a bath. The worst seems to have passed, and I have learned that Aelthas Jelabras, the man who ordered “The Snake’s” troupe killed, and the centaur’s captivity, has finally been apprehended. Hopefully, he will get what he deserves.
I helped heal once more and sang stories for the wounded men. I should play in temples more often. The wounded men were eager to hear my voice, and that of my harp as well. I did find it odd to find “The Snake” leaning over me when I awoke. I wonder if he considers me an angel... I wonder why that bothers me.
2nd of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Having not much else to do for a short while this morning, we took in a little shopping. I and “The Snake” and Mattathias (I have learned that this is the name of the priest of Ilmater who shares our plight) partook of a delicious apple muffin at the local bakery, Half A Loaf.
Following that, I ventured into the city’s doll shop. How it reminded me so much of home. I had no idea all those pretty halfling dolls I asked for cost so much. Afterwards, we stopped at the alchemists’s shop, Potent Potables. Mithras (this is the name of the tall moody elf) suggested we seek out employment. Upon our arrival at the mercenary posting board, however; we learned that the someone had employment in mind for us already. We were sent to the Training Hall, where we were hired to do some task for an elven bowyer.
That elven bowyer, Lando, has tasked us to collect some limbs from the Blackwood trees, and some Silverwood tree sap. We accepted and will be leaving for the forest tomorrow. I am writing this at the Paladin’s Mount, as we were kicked out of Mother’s Inn.
3rd of Ches, 1376 D.R.
We ventured out this morning, though I fear it wasn’t early enough for Mithras. After partaking of a relaxing bath at the Paladin’s Mount, and was endeavoring to enjoy my breakfast, but I soon found that tall grouch looming over me, a sleeping “The Snake” slumped over his shoulder. Apparently, when Mithras said “early” he meant much early than a few hours before noon. I should have told him to leave and then found myself a nice job in town. Damn my bardic instincts.
Sure enough, I knew there would be more to this job than gathering sticks and tree sap. Hours of tramping through mud holes and puddles have destroyed my boots and a pair of silken hose to boot! The hem of my dress is filthy. Oh..it now has a hole in it also. My feet are blistered and they ache. My back and legs hurt. How I can be the only one of us not hating this I do not know.
Mithras has been a callous creep this whole trip. He treats me like less of a person than he. He reminds me a lot of *the word here has been scribbled out* sometimes. It’s really hard not to say anything. I guess it would be even harder telling the truth.
The centaur, I still don’t know his name, was overjoyed to get out of Phlan.
He had spent the past few days in that city living in a small grove near to The Waiting. He is still gruff, but I can see he tries to be polite. Or, at least I think he is. It’s hard to be sure sometimes. It would be easier if he wasn’t as moody as Mithras.
“The Snake” also was happy to leave the city. I feel for him. In just a matter of hours, he has lost everyone he ever cared about. He has taken to staying with me I have assumed the role of older sister, though *word scribbled out* was never so needing of one.
The child and the centaur played nearly the entire way. They are both so caked with mud that if it weren’t for the centaur’s four legs, I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other!
Mattathias has been very quiet this whole day. I hear he stays in the grove with the centaur and Mithras. I hope they know him better than I do.
I ran out of blue ink and I was forced to borrow this black ink from Mattathias.
I’m not too partial to it. Black is so unromantic. What was it that Aven had said once? “An entire world of mystery in a tiny little black tear drop”? Was that it? Wow…I can’t believe I ever dated him.
I need to stop writing for now. Mithras us glowering at me again. Time to continue the trek to the forest, we’re only halfway there.
It is now later in the evening and much has happened. Our arrival into the Quivering Forest was uneventful, and after an hour we had the fifteen limbs we were sent to retrieve. It took a few minutes before we had the tree sap, but things got interesting at that point.
A man’s horrified yell shattered the sweet serenity of the wood, and before I knew what was happening, Mithras and the centaur were charging in that direction. A lone traveler and his horse had been waylaid by a small group of goblins their kin. The battle was fierce, but in the end, we were the victors.
Most of us were wounded, myself included, but I fear I fared the best, aside from Mattathias who was injured not at all. The centaur was mightily injured. He took the brunt of the goblin’s rage. Mithras was hurt badly as well, but he fought bravely, scattering many of the little green beasties and killing many others. “The Snake” was hurt the worst of our group.
I believe he attempted to come to my aid when I was attacked. The goblin nearly killed him. Thankfully, Mithras killed it, allowing me to stabilize our little friend. Mattathias used his divine gifts to heal him and the others. My wound was not so terrible, and I managed to clean and bandage it myself.
The hidden armor that I wear under my dresses has a lovely slice in it now, and my dress is now ruined completely beyond repair. Oh well, I truly can’t complain. At least I got to play again tonight. I was pleasantly surprised when Mithras asked me to play for him. Who am I to turn that down?
I was even more surprised when he apologized to me. Of course, he is still an uptight creep, but I think there might actually be a nice sweet man trapped in that Elven body of his afterall. I played “Dance of the Rose Faeries” for him, and he danced along with the music. He dances very well as a matter of fact. He uses his hands very well when he fights, and when he dances. Would it be naughty of me to wonder if he uses them well always? Better take my mind off such things. Men are trouble, and I haven’t the time for idle flirtations.
Tonight we are camping with the traveler, Stedd is his name. I think I dressed my leg correctly, but it feels like it is on fire. Hopefully it will feel better in the morning. I wonder if it will scar.
Playing tonight reminded me so much of her. I didn’t remember it until afterwards, but “Dance of the Rose Faeries” was the very first song I ever played fully for her. Please forgive me, wherever you are. All of you, please forgive me.
When the full moon looms above,
And the cool wind blows through the trees,
I think of you, expecting to hear
Your laughter in the breeze.
P.S. I need to find out what “Ithuldin” means. Mithras called me that. I hope it means something good, and not something insulting or degrading.
That creep.
|
Edited by - Arravis on 19 Apr 2004 16:31:11
|
|
|
Arravis
Seeker
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 19 Apr 2004 : 16:10:07
|
4th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
We arrived back in Phlan this morning and my exhaustion is near overwhelming. Immediately, we made our way to Lando’s to collect our fee, and from there we went to the mercenary guild. I’ve decided to take them up on their offer of training. The Talaxian Duelist sounds splendid! Graceful…elegant…stylish… I can’t wait to try it! First though, I need to rest. Today was mostly walking hither and yon, and I need a rest.
I can’t believe that I hadn’t noticed how near it is to the 19th…. Of course... it was so near when I left that I forget it is still only the Spring. Summer was well upon us at home. How odd this feels. I try not to think about it sometimes, but there are times when you just can’t help it. The 19th is my birthday….how ever should I celebrate it? Should I celebrate it? I shouldn’t think of such things now…my mind is too weary.
5th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Today was a truly interesting day! In the morning, Nym and I went to a tavern, The Jaded Jester, that we learned hosts a sort of amateur night for bards.
Oh! Nym is the actual name of “The Snake!”. I’m glad to know his real name. Nym will be much easier to write than “The Snake.”
The Jester opened in the evening, so I took that much needed rest and both of us went to the tavern when it opened. I never realized how comfortable an inn bed could really be! A day without walking did much to invigorate my dragging body and heavy soul.
I still have no idea what to do regarding the 19th, but I feel much more optimistic after my evening at the Jaded Jester. My performance wasn’t the best, admittedly, but I got to play for an actual audience again. Well, I got to play..when I wasn’t dodging rotten fruit. Still, it felt nice…it’s been so long. I have a lovely bruise on my eye now, and it looks like I took part in a tavern brawl! Melons really hurt.
Tomorrow we begin our lessons at the mercenary guild…Talaxian Duelist! Should be fun! Speaking of which, I’d better retire for the evening…I need to be there nice and early.
Alley cats yawn wide.
Refuse, in wind it rustles.
A flower blooms full.
6th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
I’m so tired... my arms and legs hurt... The training today... was worse than the marching to the Quivering Forest. I never believed that the duelist training would be this arduous… I hurt so much…. I hope tomorrow will be better. I don’t think it can get much worse. How dare that man ask me to clean that stone floor with my tongue! My head hurts... need to sleep... Will write more tomorrow...
7th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Today was not quite so bad as yesterday. It seems that the first day serves to “weed out the weak” so to speak. Today’s lesson focused primarily on concentration, something I could always use more of. Wow does it ever remind me of the lessons I had to endure back at home! I’m really beginning to enjoy them! Wielding a rapier is so dashing! I feel like a swashbuckler or a pirate!
Arrghhhh! Avast ye mateys! Make wit yer plunder or I’ll keelhaul yer ship and make ye all walk de plank!
It sounds so…so…adventurous..so romantic and wonderful! Like all the stories I used to read before I came here. Caftan the Blackguard and his Dread Ship Dragonflame! I miss those novels…
Shadows dance through night;
The silver ray pierces through,
A triumph is had.
12th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
The lessons are wearing on me more than I ever anticipated they would. I’ve been too tired to write these past few days. My hands cramp so from gripping the rapier. My head and eyes hurt from the focus training. I can’t believe how out of practice I’ve become… All this time in Phlan has softened me up.
I pray I’ll get my gifts back soon. Curse Mystra for robbing me of them! I only hope nobody tries to follow me. Despite the fact that I can’t cast anymore, I have a feeling that I’ve gotten off lucky. I don’t know what I would do if any of the rest attempted to follow me and met a worse fate. That’s my worst fear… That my actions could cause that again…
16th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
I had been so wrapped up in the Talaxian Duelist training I hadn’t realized how close it has grown to the 19th. I can’t believe it never dawned on me! Of course, not much time has passed at all since the last 19th of Ches... This all just feels so terribly odd…how do I celebrate it this time? Do I?
I know I asked this once already..but I still don’t know. Technically, I suppose I shouldn’t…but it would be stranger yet not to. How can I avoid celebrating my own brithday? It’s all so confusing…
On the bright side, tomorrow is the last day of the training. It’s been a great deal of fun... if not horribly exhausting. I have no desire to continue with it immediately after this lesson is over, but I may pick it up again someday.
Right now I have not the time. In fact, I feel that I am hitting a dead-end in Phlan. I cannot achieve my ends here. I lack the experience.
The others seem content to stay... even the centaur is adapting to the city.
I have grown so accustomed to Nym, Mattathias, Mithras, and the centaur that I would hate to leave them. I consider them my friends, I just wish I didn’t have to lie to them. That must be the price for my errors, it truly is a slippery slope.
I really think I understand her better now. I only wish that I had listened to good advice. Why do I have to be so damn stubborn?! Maybe *word scribbled out* was right, and I really have no idea how the world really works. Or maybe I’m just too selfish to care… Either way, I’m a fool.
17th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Today was the final day of our free week of Talaxian Duelist training.
In a way, I’m happy that it is. The training was hard on my body, but I know I needed the conditioning. Though it also bolstered my concentrative prowess, it gave me headaches and eye-strain. I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining though. Complaining never got anybody anywhere. Action is the key.
I remember *word scribbled out* lectures: whole worlds are created and destroyed by a single man’s oblivious action. Now I almost miss getting in trouble... I miss those lectures so damn much, but pining for the past never got anyone anywhere either.
I’m sad that the training has ended too. In its most superficial form, it kept my mind off everything else. Beyond that, it renewed my confidence, honed my skills and resolve, and it was fun. I’ve found very little avenue for fun in Phlan... not even the Jaded Jester seems like much fun anymore. I imagine that if I was the sort who enjoyed a few pints of ale and the company of brawny gentlemen, I would have a much better time in this city.
I never realized before I came here just how much I took poor Samostil for granted. I wish he was here now so I could apologize. I not just a flighty little spoiled brat, I’d tell him. At least, not anymore… Of course, I may never see him, or Aven, or even that bastard Leddit ever again, and they will all grow older, get married, and have happy lives, and never remember me. I can’t say that it would be any less than I deserve…
What kind of person was I to kiss Samostil just so spite Leddit? Samostil didn’t deserve that, even if he did call me spoiled and heartless. He didn’t deserve tha, to be led about the nose by me...
My candle is burning out, and I don’t wish to light another so I must stop, wish it wasn’t on such a depressing note.
18th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Talaxian Duelist training is over and I ought to be resting, but I just can’t bring myself to do so. Tomorrow is the 19th and I’ve come no closer to my goal than I was the very first day I walked into Phlan!
I feel like crying… Am I never to go home again? I know that really isn’t the cause of my anguish..I promised her that I would right what I did, and I haven’t. That’s the rub. Even though I know I cannot possibly right it at this moment, it weighs no less heavily upon my heart.
I need to talk to someone, but I can’t. I can’t tell anyone the truth. Nobody would believe mer, or even worse they would… I’ve considered talking to Mattathias, but the burns on his legs frighten me.
I went to The Waiting instead, to seek atonement for her, for what I’ve done. I was told to return tomorrow morning. My heart aches, but there is nothing I can do except go to The Waiting tomorrow and ask for my atonement.
19th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
I received the details of my atonement today. Holondos Stimpiir, the head priest at The Waiting, said that in order to find what I was looking for, I should volunteer my time and energy helping the unfortunate. He said that I have known misfortunate, hunger, and poverty little in my life and he’s right. I should volunteer and toil for no less than one week.
The work will be difficult, but I’m ready… I begin tomorrow. I haven’t seen the others today and that’s intentional. This is none of their business. Besides, it would be just too hard to explain. I will accept my punishment silently and stoically. As it is, I begin at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so I need to get some rest. Hopefully, there will be more to tell in my next entry.
Happy Birthday to me.
20th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Today’s work was agony. We began before sunrise, meeting at a rather rundown building on the poorer side of town. Our job (myself, a few more volunteers sent by The Waiting, and a couple of trained carpenters) was to help renovate the structure so that it could be used as low-rent housing for the city’s indigent.
We hauled lumber and nails around the site, helped raise scaffolding, drove stakes and nails and rivets, and painted. It wasn’t so hard until the sun came up. It’s amazing how even a small amount of sun can make your body so exhausted and your sweat flow so much. We did break for lunch, and then we worked inside during the worst weather, but it was still oppressively exhausting. It’s no less than I deserve I know. I’m so tired.
I’d hate to cut this entry so short today, but I begin again tomorrow at the same time as this morning. I need to sleep.
22nd of Ches, 1376 D.R.
I’m so tired… We laid the stone floor on the bottom floor today. My hands are sore and scratched, my nails are cracked and broken. I’m filthy.
I think I’ll take a long hot soak after I’m finished writing for the evening. I feel good on the inside though. I feel that I am doing some real good for the people of Phlan. My heart feels at peace.
I saw the others today, at the Grove. We’ve all taken to eating our supper there some evenings. I still prefer the Paladin’s Mount, as austere as it is…I don’t feel wholly at ease in Mielikki’s Grove. Even though, it is heavenly to dine under the stars and the leafy boughs of the trees.
Nym left the Paladin’s Mount and moved into the Grove with the others, leaving me at the inn by myself. It’s more peaceful, but it can be lonely at times. Jaroff, the Paladin owner, isn’t much of a conversationalist.
I miss home. Home was never lonely. Someone was always there, Uncle Mirt was always there. I wonder if he’s there now, he was so old when I left. I wonder if he’s dead.
I miss that damn pig. I even miss father. The sooner I get back to them, the better. I only hope it doesn’t continue to take so long.
25th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Atonement is half over and I already know I’ll miss this when I’m done. The first floor is finally finished and the first couple of families moved in this morning. It felt good to see how happy and grateful they were. That made all the pain worth it.
We begin the second floor tomorrow. The scaffoldings we erected today. The floor is going to be rood, so hopefully we won’t have to lug too many stones or bricks. Besides, going up and down the steps, the work should be easier.
Of course, this is my atonement, so I’m not sure I should even be worrying about it being easier. Guess I’ll never be a saint.
I saw the others again in the Grove. Makes me wonder how long I will remain in Phlan and if I’ll be leaving alone when I do. It would be difficult arranging things so that the others do what I need to do, but I would greatly appreciate the company. Even if it does come from grumpy old Katar (that’s the centaur’s name! I finally know it!), surly Mithras, gloomy Mattathias, and hyper-active Nym.
30th of Ches, 1376 D.R.
Sorry I haven’t written anything in the past few days, but there simply wasn’t anything new to write about. That and I was simply too exhausted to make journal entries.
Today was my final day of volunteering, well, atonement. In truth, it did little to ease my own guilt over her and what I had done. But, it did help take my mind off it at least. I don’t know if I should feel bad for being grateful I didn’t think of her and all my birthdays gone by. It eases my heart and I’m grateful for that, but I can’t help but feel a little bit selfish.
I saw the others again for dinner. They are planning to throw a party outside the walls tomorrow night. That should be fun, especially after all my hard work.
1st of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.
It’s late and I don’t think I’ll be up for too much longer tonight. The party was great fun! Not having to be up at the crack of dawn was splendid! I needed the rest so badly… though I do for bad for leaving when everyone else is working so hard.
Speaking of the slums and the tenement building, though... some acquaintances of Mattathias’s met up with him today in town. There were three of them, and two were disguised as a couple being evicted from their home by a cruel landlord. The other was the landlord himself. The two being “evicted” begged Mattathias for help as we were going by with our party supplies. We were unable to talk the landlord out of evicting them, so we escorted them to The Waiting so that Mattathias could request housing for them at the tenement that I helped build.
Of course, when Mattathias emerged, the three had shed their disguises and revealed themselves to be an aging named who identified himself as Huran, a one-armed monk female named Anassa? Onassa? Arassa? Something like that. The third of them was a tall blonde bard who was actually pretty handsome if I must say. They said they had come to test Mattathias. Apparently, he passed, and they joined us at our party.
Like I said, the party was a lot of fun! We drank, some of us only a little, some of us a lot (Katar!). Nym played with the ladder of Elminster that he purchased at the doll shoppe. Most of us played a few hands of Talos.
I lost nearly a gold! That blonde bard is good, or very lucky. He claims it’s the latter, I think it’s the former.
After losing out at Talos, we played some game that Katar showed us.
It involves wrapping small items in cloth, tossing the bundles into the branches of a tree of medium height, and then shooting them down with your bow. I’ve seen it played before..in *two words scribbled out*.
Yish! That’s the blonde bard’s name. He asked me for a lock of my hair to toss into the tree. I was flattered, but I just had to refuse.
I remember my relationship with Aven, and I remember the young hopefuls at New Olamn, charming as can be, but they practically leave scorch marks when they leave! Oh well.
Still he is very handsome. Bet he has a woman in every city on the Moonsea though. Guess I’ll never have much luck in the romance department. I shouldn’t be looking anyway, I know that. Still, it does invigorate the heart… Another time, Nydia, another time... when your home with your family.
Right now, Nym is asleep, I believe Mithras is asleep, Katar is drunk asleep, Mattathias is over talking with Anassa?, Huran is silently standing watch (I don’t think he said four words the entire evening!), and the handsome Yish is over to the side playing something on his lute. The campfire is dying down and I’ll soon not have enough light to see by. Sweet dreams…
2nd of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.
Nothing of any real importance happened today, but I did get a little shopping in. I took Katar with me. Talking with him is always fascinating. It angers me sometimes just how naïve he really is. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage of him..but despite his complete lack of street-smarts, he isn’t stupid.
I taught him about money today..or at least, I tried to. Poor guy, he spends so much of what little he has far too often. Maybe if he knows its value he’ll be willing to save a little more.
Right about now, he and Nym are probably trying to get into the Temple of Sune here. The Temple is having some kind of party tonight, and I know both Nym and Katar were interested in seeing what it was all about. Mattathias declined to go, same as I.
I don’t know where Mithras is. He went to look for work earlier today, and we haven’t seen him since. I guess he found something. Oh well, I hope Nym and Katar are having more fun than I am. Goodnight.
3rd of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.
Another dull day overall. Well, possibly not for the owners of Half-A-Loaf.
It was destroyed today. I went there this morning to get a buttered apple muffin for breakfast, like I do every morning, and found the place in ruins. Someone robbed the place of all the apple muffins. Odd.
Ahhhhh yesss that’s right… I found out what Mithras was doing last night. Turns out he did find a job, like I had thought... wearing a loincloth and looking really pretty. He was hired as a guard at that party at the Temple of Sune last night. I would have paid to see him all dressed up and dolled up!
Oh I hope he didn’t scowl too much. Hate is so unattractive! There’s another party at the Temple of Sun later this week. Maybe he’ll get hired again. Heheehehehe.
Buttery, crumbly little treat
Apple muffins nice and sweet
So moist and brimming with heat
Now whatever shall I eat?
*Below is the low-res that was made of the Phlan jobs board*
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/attachment.php?s=370c73d57fbbce6b40ccc801fcff3aba&attachmentid=13863 |
Edited by - Arravis on 19 Apr 2004 16:20:43 |
 |
|
|
Arravis
Seeker
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 19 Apr 2004 : 16:11:39
|
4th of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.
There was another robbery today. This time it was Jerome’s General Store that was hit. I heard all their ale was taken.
The others are over at the tenement building right now, staking out the slums, trying to catch the people responsible. I’m at the Paladin’s Mount, and I have to admit that it’s pretty damn boring here. Having a retired Paladin as the owner has its advantages, but it has its disadvantages too. For one, there’s never anything going on! They never have any shows, no fights, only quiet card games and private conversations. At least it’s always quiet.
Speaking of which, I can’t hear anything going on in the rooms next door.
I can hear the street just fine, and I can vaguely hear pots and pans clattering downstairs. Wow it’s so boring here. But it’s early yet, so it might pick up. Just in case, though, I think I’ll go join the others on their stake-out.
Catching a criminal could be fun. Or, spying on people should prove interesting at any rate. Yes, I think I’ll go do that. Till tomorrow.
6th of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.
Well, I’m writing this early morning on the 6th. I’m at the courthouse and the sun is rising now. We discovered last night that an undead Nat Wyler has been causing all the break-ins. He hit the Gilded Lily early yesterday morning.
Yesterday was a very busy day.
Mithras is an ASS! Sorry, I’m still a little upset. We had a confrontation yesterday. There was a large fight at Nat Wyler’s Bell. The tavern’s owner, a Gnome named Gnahac Gnarlnose, owed the wrong people money apparently, and they sent some enforcers to collect. There were five and we took them all down. Katar killed three himself. I didn’t know there was a thieve’s guild in Phlan, but it would appear I was wrong. At any rate, the two who survived were taken in custody.
Turns out Nat Wyler had been raised from the dead by a particularly vengeful priest of Waukeen. The man’s name was Vilek Tantamon and he is disgusting in every way imaginable. *word scribbled out* used to say that some people were born entirely without taste, and I used to think her petty for feeling that way, but I believe her now.
What angers me the most is Mithras. It very nearly came to blows between us last night…err..this morning. It’s all so confusing, I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. He had the cleric by the throat and I think he would have killed him. He called me a pest, a blight upon the world, a disease! He said that I had no right to question him! He dare he say those things to me! He doesn’t even know me! The ridiculous jerk!
He can choke on his Elven pride for all I care! I bet I don’t even get an apology from him either when this is all over.
Pompous ASS!
Pompous No-good Elven ASS!
I haven’t seen him since the fight. I haven’t seen any of them, in fact. Nat Wyler walking around was sad, but it must have affected them far more than it did me. I guess they’ve never had any experience with undead before.
Would make sense I suppose. I remember my first encounter with one of father’s zombies…damn... I think I may be running out of ink again. I will have to pay a visit to Potent Potables tomor..today! I’d better go back to the Paladin’s Mount and get some sleep. Yes, definitely more ink.
Crazy jerk Mithras.
30th of Tarsakh, 1376 D.R.
I cannot adequately describe the HELL that was today! It started off like any other day, but isn’t that how all horrid days begin? I had woken and was practicing my harp before my morning bath. The warning horn sounded at about an hour or two before noon. I knew something was wrong when everyone in the Paladin’s Mount began to scream and bolt from their rooms.
I managed to stop someone long enough to ask what was going on, and was told that the horn that was sounding was the dragon alert. Well, I threw my stuff in my bags and carried them downstairs. By then, only myself and Jaroff remained in the Mount, and he told me that I needed to leave quickly.
I went to the stable and loaded up Cotton, the donkey that I had purchased this past week. He’s a stubborn animal, but thankfully he isn’t too mean. I found Jaroff readying his horse and wished him all the luck I could. I wonder whatever happened to him...
After Jaroff left, I led Cotton out of the stable and into the throng of screaming terrified humanity. I could already see the dragon coming… I had to fight my way through, clinging to that donkey’s lead with a death-grip, but I didn’t follow the crowd, no, I headed for the alleyway across the street.
Cotton and I kept to the backstreets, and I’m very glad we did. We weren’t five buildings down before that massive red dragon swooped down in all its terrifying glory and landed with a heart-wrenching crunch down upon the roof of the Paladin’s Mount.
I thought it was going to open with its fiery breath, but for a few moments it just sat there staring down at the streets packed with flesh below it as if it wasn’t entirely impressed. I’m certainly no expert on the motives of dragons, but I could swear that it was smiling. Finally, after those few moments were done, it began to gorge itself on the citizens of Phlan.
The crunching sounds and the screams..they were all so horrible… I tried not to listen as I led Cotton further down that alleyway toward the main gate.
Oh yes... I forgot to mention, I summoned a familiar! The components cost me 100 gold, but my companion came a few nights ago. It’s a sleek black cat, full of spirit and impertinence. I’ve named her Isis. It’s a fitting name for something so pretty.
So I led Cotton down that alleyway, Isis riding in my satchel, trying desperately to avoid that dragon’s notice. I was halfway to Kuto’s Well Road when I saw Mithras just standing there in the middle of the street, staring at the dragon! I waved him over and ordered him to find Mattathias, Nym, and Katar and then go to the Grove. I told them I would meet them all there.
Believe me, I’m not a coward, but I didn’t see how Phlan could possibly stand against a rampaging great red wyrm. I figured it was time to leave the city while we still had the chance. Besides, my conscience would never have let me live it down if I weren’t sure that everyone else made it out alive as well.
Mithras seemed as if in a trance, but he nodded and said that he would find the others.
Obviously, he did not. I sat there in that grove and waited for them and they never showed up! Thankfully, the dragon flew off and there was no need to flee, at that moment. I was fully expecting that dragon to level the entire city!
I wasn’t quite so happy to overhear a conversation between two guards that were standing a few feet away from me. From what they were saying, Aelthas Gelabras, the man who had enslaved Katar, ordered Nym’s acting troupe killed, and ordered the deaths of myself and Mattathias, had escaped from his prison cell during the dragon attack.
Upon learning this news, I immediately sought out the others and I found them at the ruins of what was the Paladin’s Mount. Where the inn had been standing, a large hole had opened up in the ground.
The others, as well as several of The Waiting’s priests, and a large number of others, stood peering down into the hole. I ran up there with them, and I could see and hear survivors down in the rubble. I went to help, accepting a rope from a generous elf that was standing near, and nearly broke my tailbone trying to descend.
The rope was dustier than I thought it was. It felt like agony..but what I found down there made me forget it all! In the hole stood a crumbling statue of a man with incredibly long arms. One of the arms was broken, but the other was intact, and at the base of the statue, in some form of code, were the words:
Ride the waves of
The Weave, and visit
Places of the past,
Present, and future.
After being in this damn city for nearly three months, I had finally found something! I was so overwhelmed, and for just those moments, those fleeting, fleeting moments before that cursed hole filled with sewage. For just those few moments I felt that I had finally accomplished something, that what I needed was within my grasp. Then, it was all gone…
We had to flee the hole when the sewage came, and now my only lead is at the bottom of 30 feet of filth! Just my cursed luck… curse the fates!
However, a murk-filled hole soon became the least of anyone’s worries. Once I told everyone of Gelabras’s disappearance, we made our way to the courthouse, well, except Katar who needed to leave on an herb-gathering trip.
We were treated like dirt at the door of the courthouse by some racist dung-herding guard and his band of miscreants, but Nym learned a startling bit of news. A woman meeting the description of his lost friend, Breeze, had been spotted in the ruins!
I only learned of this later, because I had diffused the racial situation by taking Mithras to the Grove to change out of our moody clothes. Mithras stalked off to go change somewhere deeper in the Grove than I was, but I know he was watching me while I was changing, looking at me naked... though I don’t think he meant for me to know he was spying on me. I was tempted to sneak a peek at him for revenge, but it wouldn’t be lady-like now would it? Tee hee!
Mithras and I returned to the courthouse to find Nym and Mattathias were already speaking to Councilman Geth inside. We had to fight our way through the throng of angry, weeping people in the main room, where Mithras’s money purse was almost cut by what I could have sworn was a child.
When we got into Geth’s office, we learned that it had been a halfling. Apparently, some halflings had established a thieve’s guild or sorts somewhere in the ruins. We also learned that Gelabras had escaped with the aid of a guard that had retained loyalty to him. Where Gelabras had gone to, Geth didn’t know, but he was sure the bastard was still in the city. As far as Nym’s friend, Breeze, went, yes Geth had heard of her, she was a slave, and he was certain she was up for sale in the ruins somewhere.
After being told I could take residence in the Cracked Crown, I took my things there, and the others dined there for a bit, but then we were off to go rescue Nym’s friend.
We walked right into the middle of a riot. I’m not sure how to riot started, but it was clearly racially motivated. We managed to rescue a woman from a band of males intent on foul things, but we all split up just after that. Mattathias ran back to The Waiting to see about getting some more help for the citizens, and Mithras darted down an alleyway in pursuit of two men wielding flame cocktails.
The two men had wounded an innocent bystander, and I tried to take the injured man to The Waiting for help. Nym just kept on going in the direction of the ruins, further into the insanity. I sent Isis to look after him.
Halfway down the street, I was met by a tall, gaunt man I had never seen before. The man, who introduced himself as Razsamar, told me that my charge was dead, but then he proposed something quite interesting. He desired to be reunited with Nym’s friend, Samar, who Razsamar claimed was a portion of himself who was split from him when a longevity spell went haywire.
For my aid in his endeavor, he offered me directions to find scrolls of the “unknown source.”
The “unknown source” could be activated only by a sorcerer, he said, a sorcerer like me. I have no inkling how he knew I was a sorcerer. Still, the proposition interested me, and I agreed to the wizard’s terms.
I ran to find Nym, but was met by Mattathias, and then we both were accosted by a mob of angry-looking villagers with weapons. We were alerted to that danger by Nym, who had spotted us from a rooftop, and Mattathias and myself managed to escape back to The Waiting.
Just after we arrived, a huge mob of over a thousand villagers converged on the courthouse and The Waiting as well. I joined the defense of The Waiting’s gate, trying to protect the many wounded humans and non-humans alike who had sought safety in the temple.
Among the wounded were several of Lando’s children and grandchildren, as well as dwarves, gnomes, halflings, elves, half-elves, it was appalling. I can’t believe other humans could be so hateful for no reason.
No matter how many arrows I shot into that mob, four others would spring up to take the place of the people I fell. They had cut a tree from the Grove, which they had also set ablaze, and they were using the tree to try and batter the gates down. As I was preparing to sending searing missiles of magic into the mob, Razsamar appeared at the gate and said that it was time to leave.
I didn’t want to just leave like that, but I knew that I had to, Phlan would sort this out. Razsamar cast a teleportation spell and we were removed from the gate. We appeared in an alleyway next to Mithras, Nym, and Mattathias, and a dwarf that I had never seen before either.
Razsamar wanted to leave Phlan immediately, but I couldn’t leave my things behind. It seems silly to be so preoccupied with material things while the world is burning around you, but I just couldn’t leave them. My parents gave me a lot of those things…and the mizmar…my grandmother told me to keep it…
I was determined not to leave Phlan without them.
I insisted and finally Mattathias and I headed to the Cracked Crown…but we never made it that far. As we passed the grove, we saw the horrifying sight of Lando hanging unconscious from a tree. He had been savagely beaten, was bleeding profusely, and half of his left ear was missing.
Mattathias and I had revived him, but it was clear that we could not take him to the Cracked Crown with us. We carried him back to the alleyway, have him a weapon, and Mattathias healed him as best as he could.
Unfortunately, I now could not gather my things, and Razsamar demanded we leave at that moment. He punctuated his order by killing a small group of rioters who had come around the corner after us with a magic missile spell.
When another small group came around the other way, I cast that same spell on one of them... even as the bolts of magic left my fingers, I knew that the spell would most likely kill the man I was aiming for... their leader. But I had cast it anyway, because I was angry.
When the bolts impacted his chest, he was knocked off his feet and fell limp to the filthy ground behind him I had killed him. I had killed him with my magic…just like I had killed her….
I felt so horrible for doing it. I hadn’t even attempted to find another way…I had just killed him. The sickness in my heart increased when it became clear that we would have to leave Lando behind.
He was still so weak, and wounded…alone in a city filled with rioters, determined to save his family. I didn’t want to leave him, I wanted to stay! But I couldn’t…. Lando hobbled off in the direction of The Waiting, and we left like cowards. It hurts to think of what may have happened to him.
It was of small comfort when Razsamar promised that he would have my things brought to me when we had all gone through his gate and ended up outside the city’s walls. Compared to Lando’s anguish, they just didn’t matter anymore.
A true arcanist learns to separate himself from material gain. I know that’s what father would say.
After an incredibly cold and mercifully short swim around the walls, we found our way to Phlan’s main gate. When we got there, we discovered the body of a small elven girl. She was laying there, facedown in the mud with an arrow in her back. It was enough to break your heart. That small body, it reminded me of Ryes. Mithras picked her up and carried her, not willing to leave her at the mercy of those who had murdered her.
We stopped at the Valhigen Cemetery and the others attempted to gather wood for a funeral pyre, but I couldn’t. I was so numb and so tired. I just stood there, holding Isis tightly.
When Mattathias declared that the wood from the cemetery was tainted, we moved on, still carrying that girl’s body with us. Nym swears that he saw a dark figure among the graves watching us. I’m glad I didn’t see it.
We walked for hours, Mattathias helping Razsamar who was obviously extremely exhausted from his spell-casting. Razsamar looked like the walking dead.
When it began to get dark, we stopped in a small wooded area that was clearly used by rangers, as evidenced by the hidden cache of food Nym found in a tree stump. We built a fire and ate what we could. everything tasted so bland, it caught in my throat.
Before Mithras had even eaten, he had erected the funeral pyre for the slain elfling and had set it, and the girl’s body, ablaze, freeing her soul to go wherever it is elves go when they die. Hopefully a far finer world than the one she left…
Greengrass, 1376 D.R.
I had volunteered for second watch, the worst shift I knew, but anything else would have been selfish. While I was on watch, Razsamar’s dwarven companion found us, carrying all of my items with him. All of them, save my donkey, and the bottle of Berduskan Dark Ale that Mithras had insisted on charging to me at the Cracked Crown.
The dwarf fried up some eggs and bacon. It tasted a little better than the ranger rations, but it still caught in my throat. My heart hung heavy in my chest. The others awoke soon after.
Razsamar looked even worse, the dwarf told us that he was dying, that he would die if he wasn’t reunited with Samar soon. We didn’t wait around too long. We knew that we were headed for an abandoned Shrine of Tymora, and after another several hours of walking, we found it.
It looked utterly decrepit, built into the side of a hill and the door was practically rotting away as we stood there. We went inside and the interior of the room we found ourselves in looked little better and were immediately presented with a quandary.
The room was bare, save for a crumbling well in the center, a dust-covered lute long broken, and, of course, the shrine. The shrine looked more like a bizarre sculpture than a shrine. The shrine was sculpted in the shape of a hand, cupped..palm upward as if to receive something. Near to the hand stood a shelf holding a few jars. At the base of the hand was an inscription in old Netherese that read:
Look to the shrine for
What you seek,
Choose the well and take
A chance on what you keep.
After much arguing over which avenue we should go with: the shrine or the well, Mattathias placed a single copper coin in the palm of the shrine’s hand.
To our amazement, the hand moved, it dropped and the coin vanished. To our further amazement, Mattathias discovered three new coins in his pocket.
Actually, they would have been coins, were they stamped and of any discernible material. Unable to figure out what they were at that instant, he dropped them into his money pouch. Apparently, we had learned how to activate the shrine.
Not heeding my warnings, Mithras went next. He dropped a gold coin into the hand, the hand dropped and nothing happened to him. Nothing at all. He didn’t grow wings, change colors, nothing. Nym went after Mithras, dropping a silver into Tymora’s palm and he received a pair of small devilish-looking horns for his trouble. Mithras ran from the room screaming.
Undaunted, the dwarf, Beirdan, went next. He dropped a silver coin into that cold palm and instantly his head began to glow brighter than any light spell, lantern, or torch. It glowed like a beacon above his shoulders.
I named him Beirdan Brighthead.
That left myself and Razsamar. The wizard opted to go fifth. As soon as those coins hit that palm, Razsamar shrunk over a foot in height. He didn’t seem happy, but clearly, Razsamar had bigger things to worry about.
I went last, placing one of my silvers into Tymora’s grasping hand and immediately I could feel its effects. It felt like a burning almost, but a good burning. I felt….lucky….I knew it had to be good!
When all of us had partaken of Tymora’s mighty joke, the shrine opened, revealing an extremely low-ceilinged passageway carved out of sheer stone. The ceiling was so low that the dwarf had to crawl like the rest of us. Mithras, who had been coaxed back into the room by Nym, refused to enter the crawlspace. He must have a fear of tight spaces. I’ve heard of that malady. Terrible thing for an adventurer.
Eventually he did go in, after a couple of long draughts from Beirdan’s handkeg of Dwarven spirits. When we had all entered, the stone door shut fast behind us, sending Mithras into a frenzy. The elf crawled over everyone behind him trying to get out, but he didn’t make it. Mattathias had to carry him the rest of the way. Luckily, the passage wasn’t too long.
We emerged into a huge room at the top of a staircase that circled an enormous crevasse, the bottom of which we could not see for it fell deep into darkness. I don’t know how long it took to get to the bottom of that staircase, but it felt like we walked for a good few hours, always careful never to slip from the steps and fall to our deaths.
A door had awaited us at the bottom, a thick locked door. Nym, with a little help from one of my picks, got the door open. We weren’t sure what to expect, but what greeted us was a bare stone hallway with a corner far to our left, and about four doors, one of them (a set of double-doors to be exact) to our right.
Something told Nym that he had to go that way. The golem that came after us had us sooner running the other way. Around that far left corner were a pair of long-dead ettins and another doorway which was, of course, locked.
I set to picking that lock, and found a carrion crawler waiting on the other side.
Wonderful, we were stuck between a stone golem and a carrion crawler and this was only the first corridor of the bloody dungeon! I slammed the door on the carrion crawler’s face, and looked for something to help fight the golem, which was advancing undeterred upon us.
Knowing that golems were immune to the Art, and stone nearly impervious to blades, I tried to find a bludgeon. The ettins had three large stones in one of their bags, they would have to do.
We all fought for our lives, and Mithras and Beirdan would have died were it not for Mattathias. Mattathias nearly died himself! I managed to knock a huge chunk of its face away with one of my rocks…that shouldn’t have happened….
When Razsamar actually affected it with a volley of magic missiles it became clear that this wasn’t an actual golem, or it was a very shoddily constructed one. We dropped it not so long after that, but it was a hard won battle. All of the warriors had nearly been killed and Razsamar was near death.
We picked through a few bags we had found with the ettins, and rested, leaving the carrion crawler for another time. Inside the golem’s chest, I found a polished black stone in the shape of an oval. I pocketed it.
After a well-deserved rest, we killed the carrion crawler and went back through the double-doors to the right, where the golem had been. The room possessed four doors on opposite walls. The door to the left led to a trapped corridor, the door right led back the way we had come. That left the doors facing north and south.
We chose the north door first, and were met by a group of bloodthirsty hobgoblins. We managed to kill them all, though Beirdan was greatly wounded again. We followed the corridor the hobgoblins had come down and we found a room with a single hobgoblin woman intent on butchering us with the same knife she was using to carve their dinner, and a whimpering hobgoblin child.
We spared them both, but helped ourselves to the room’s curious amount of treasure, all of it clearly not of goblinoid origin. Inside one of the trunks was a bag of red coins...the coins... I wonder if I can still go back and get them...
We were forced to leave the coins because they made the others crazy. Mattathias attacked me for no reason and Mithras cut me! He cut me right on the chin! Mattathias knocked me cold and they dragged me out into the hallway we had rested before. That bastard Mithras even kicked Isis!
If those lousy bastards want those coins so damned badly, they’ll have to fight me for them! I can’t let them get a hold of them, which means I may have to carry them myself. I played my harp to keep their minds off the coins. I can get them later.
We went south next. We knew there were kobolds and Yuan-ti down that way, but Razsamar insisted that that was the way Samar had gone, so that’s the way we went. We were split up when Beirdan, Mithras, and Mattathias went charging down one hallway after some kobolds, leaving myself and Nym to protect Razsamar.
We then heard scurrying in the shadows of the room we had entered, so we nocked our arrows and prepared to shoot anything that came into view. Nothing did come out, and Beirdan, Mattathias, and Mithras must have slain anything that opposed them, because Mithras ran out down the corridor, telling the three of us to go join them.
While the others went to gather in that room, I slipped off to go collect the red coins. I was dimly aware of Mithras following me, probably waiting to steal them from me. I pretended not to notice him.
He looked particularly haggard and I was sure I could defeat him when the time came. I’m not certain what made me stop…but I did. Perhaps it was the realization that behind the door I was about the open there were angry hobgoblin women and children, probably waiting to skewer a hapless human sorceress, as one had tried to skewer us earlier. Perhaps it was the pained whining of Isis, who had been struck by a kobold’s arrow as the others had gone to join the warriors.
I don’t really know what it was but I stopped and I turned to face Mithras, and he truly did look terrible.. I fed him one of my curing potions, and he did get better, but it made me wonder where Mattathias was, and why Mithras had an arrow sticking out of his chest. We made our way through the darkness back to the room where the others were gathered.
In this room lay Mattathias, gravely injured, as well as Beirdan who was closer to death than he had ever been up to that point I’m sure, a wheezing Razsamar, frantic Nym, a dead monk laying on a sort of sacrificial altar, and two dead yuan-ti (one full-blood, one half). A pile of dead kobolds lay scattered outside the room. It hit me then how frightful that combat must have been…
Mattathias was saved from the brink of death by Razsamar’s healing potion, thank goodness. While Mattathias set about removing the monk from the site of her death, the rest of us took to searching this odd chamber, paying close attention to the altar in particular.
The structure was obviously set up in worship of some horrible god I’ve never heard the name of. It consisted of an immense stone sculpture of a hideously bloated goblin-like entity that loomed over the crudely fashioned sacrificial slab. I took note of the fact that there was no blood on the altar, even as the dead monk’s body was still warm enough for it to flow.
By pricking my finger upon the altar, I observed the droplets being almost absorbed into the surface of the slab, yet I could plainly hear water flowing from somewhere within the structure. It was right after that that someone noticed the stream of water that flowed from out of the yuan-ti god’s posterior.
How utterly disgusting that they would erect such a foul altar to begin with, but that the water should flow from its bowels? Ugh.
I was still disoriented by the whole event to remember exactly who realized that the water had curative abilities, but soon we were all partaking of it. It even seemed to ease Razsamar’s coughs and fits, which is good.
Oddly enough, I didn’t feel any desire to pursue those red coins anymore either. In fact, I couldn’t understand why I had been so captivated by them in the first place. A passing fancy I suppose, or maybe it was something more.
At any rate, I suppose it’s better that I leave them down here. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds them and returns them to the surface, but it won’t be me that does.
We took a rest in that foul chamber, Mithras and Beirdan guarding the door from stray kobolds while the rest of us did what we could to gain sleep. I played a bit more on the harp that I found with the hobgoblins. It really is a very nice instrument, and though it surely looks as plain as my travelling harp, I’m certain that it must be enchanted. It bears some looking into when we get out of here.
All as rested as we could be in a dank dungeon, we soon gathered up our loot and began back down the corridor. Mindful of the tittering that Nym, Razsamar, and I had heard earlier, we proceeded cautiously, Nym and I leading the way.
The corridor opened into a larger room, and we encountered two more hobgoblins harassing a group of about three kobolds. We dispatched the hobs with ease, and found that the kobolds were quite willing to do our bidding.
We had them lead us to their home.
Along the way, we passed through another some hall, and while this may not be so interesting by itself, it is important to note that in this hallway stood 12 very animate statues. The statues seemed to move and speak silently, almost as if they were alive, but they were obviously not sentient or guardians of any sort. Interesting.
Also interesting is that one of these statues, a wizardress by the looks of her, bore the name Blaera Gelabras. I wonder if there is any relation to Aelthas Gelabras, the man who ordered our deaths in Phlan? It’s far too much of a coincidence to ignore. I wonder if the statues belong to an adventuring group that created the dungeon?
At any rate, we allowed the kobolds to lead us to their area of the dungeon, which consisted of some areas behind a pair of doors. We got through one of the doors, the one that faced in the direction that Razsamar said Samar had gone. The door opened up into a narrow corridor that took us to a foreboding hole on the wall. In the hole, we could see nothing but blackness.
Nym and I, of course, went first. From what paltry light our torches granted, we came to realize that we had found ourselves in some sort of cavern. There was an odd smell to the place, old, musty, and bitter. The others followed us in, and we started forward.
It wasn’t too long before we discovered a small chamber that appeared to have been formed naturally in the rock. Judging from the rusted and worn-out equipment, and the long-rotted skeleton that sat covered with cobwebs upon a battered stone throne, the room was someone’s final resting place. The others started in toward the old gear, but Razsamar and I hung back toward the entrance.
The chamber was obviously someone’s crypt. It just felt, dirty... wrong. I couldn’t bring myself to search that room. I suppose I can blame father for that one.
Mattathias, Nym, and Mithras didn’t seem to find anything of any value, but the displacer beast that was using the room as lair decided he’d found a good meal. It leapt at Mattathias, nearly taking the cleric down with a single mighty swipe of its shadowy claws.
Mattathias was hurt, but the others quickly came to his rescue, Mithras with that lovely glass sword of his, Nym with his throwing daggers, and Beirdan with that great axe. Many of their attacks missed, as the beast shifted repeatedly. Some did manage to connect with the beast’s substantial body, and it howled in rage and pain, but still it attacked.
I assailed with my own magical volley, impacting it with magic missiles.
Between that and the attacks from everyone else, we finally did chase it off with no loss of life to anyone in the party.
After some brief healing, we continued on our way. Soon we found the only other exit way from the large cavern. It was yet another corridor, a rocky slope that led us even deeper into the darkness.
The slope went down for not quite a mile, then another passageway split off the right and led up. Just beyond that, the slope opened into a much larger cavern, and we could hear the sounds of voices and the clink of metal against stone.
We hid ourselves behind a large boulder, and observed a group of deep dwarves and their slaves mining the stone. Razsamar stated that Samar was somewhere down there among the Duergar and slaves, so that meant that someone had to go down there. Well, it was me, Mattathias, and Mithras. Luckily for us, their leader speaks Drow.
We managed to negotiate the purchase of a few of their slaves, a few humans, a dwarf, and a couple halflings. They threw in a nearly dead Samar for free. Mattathias carried Samar back up the slope, and the slaves didn’t exactly refuse to go with us. We were leading them up toward the surface, afterall.
Once everyone was together at the top of the slope, we doubled-back and began to climb the slope that ascended to the right. We climbed up the slope for hours, but finally we could smell fresh air, and could see beams of sunlight filtered down at us.
Mithras, Nym, and the slaves were so overcome with joy, that they ran ahead, and Razsamar took the opportunity, lunging suddenly for Samar, grappling the dying man around his shoulders, and shouting for me to begin the spell now.
I smashed the glass sphere down onto the ground, and immediately a young girl of about Nym’s age appeared where the glass had shattered. I grasped her finger swiftly and pricked her finger, and began the spell. The two dying men wrestled on the dirt as I spoke aloud the words. Beirdan kept Mattathias at bay while I continued.
As I read from that scroll, hearing quite well the screams of anguish from Samar, and the shouting of Razsamar, I kept thinking back to that evening, the night I cast that spell that brought me here and to Phlan.
How easily it would be for me to loose control, especially considering the force and power kept building and building as the casting reached its advanced stages. From the corner of my eye, I could see that the two men were becoming one, but I could feel myself being tested to the best of my abilities. I continued to cast, even as it grew harder and harder to contain the power that was surging through my body. Finally, the darkness claimed me...
*Below is a low res map of Phlan*
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/attachment.php?s=370c73d57fbbce6b40ccc801fcff3aba&attachmentid=13864 |
Edited by - Arravis on 19 Apr 2004 16:22:16 |
|
|
|
Arravis
Seeker
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 19 Apr 2004 : 16:13:26
|
3rd of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.
Today we emerged from the darkness of that dungeon to find ourselves amidst the mouldy ruins in the Southwest of Phlan. Looking around, after I had regained consciousness, I was startled to find tattered bits of parchments, old tattered tapestries, and more than a little evidence of long faded magics. I could only imagine that we had found ourselves in the Scholar’s Square. With the slaves we had freed, we made our way to The Waiting and placed them under their care.
Concerned for Lando, the Elven bowyer we had been forced to leave behind in Phlan, we journeyed to his shop and found it closed, and his kin working tirelessly to rebuild the structure, and their lives. Of Lando, none of them knew. No one had seen him since the horrific riots on the 30th. A few of their number had gone west, seeking an audience with Lando’s elven kin, and they promised they would keep us apprised of any new developments.
As we had made our way through the oddly quiet streets of the city, we couldn’t help but notice mounted warriors we had never before seen, organized and displaying a distinct crest upon their tunics. It was of a gold coin, pierced through by a short sword. Obviously mercenaries, but I couldn’t say from where. The locals had addressed them as “The Helms”.
Filthy and in dire need of a bath, followed by a well-deserved rest, we had made our way to the Cracked Crown. Upon reaching the inn, I was saddened to find my donkey, Cotton, missing, and the proprietress, Lady Robyrtah Greensash, dead, another unfortunate victim of Phlan’s race-fueled chaos.
A goblet of Saerloonian Glowfire did much to take the edge off my sadness, as did the roasted pheasant we had all enjoyed that evening. Seems that Saerloonian wines aren’t in short supply, especially considering the new influx of Sembian merchants from the south.
Still, even after the wine, dinner, and relaxing bath that were mine that evening, I could not sleep, for my dreams were filled with images of people I had seen walking, talking, laughing in the city streets, piled up on the cold, unholy ground of Valhigen Graveground.
4th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.
This morning, Razsamar greeted us with breakfast and also the wondrous tale that follows:
I was born in 1289 DR on the coast of the Alamber Sea. As a young boy I met Ungred Kezel as he traveled throughout my homeland of Unther, entertaining adults and children alike with his clever magic tricks and wonderful stories. It was then that my obsession with magic began. It was then that I knew my path. My desire to learn magic was so strong that I followed Ungred and joined his performances. That time was the happiest I’ve ever known. After a few years of travel, others had joined us and the Wondering Fates were formed.
After several requests by wealthy merchants in Aglarond and Chessenta, the Fates decided to take their performances beyond Unther. Ungred knew that the troupe would be gone for a long time and did not wish the Art to be neglected in me, so he arranged a magical apprenticeship. Under the tutelage of the wizardress Delina my gift was finally able to flourish. In just a few years I was able to seek my own destiny.
Decades passed, my power grew, and I traveled many of the lands of Faerun, even to worlds beyond. Regardless how much power I gathered, time itself seemed intent to defeat me. I felt old age incessantly haunting me. I tried many of the common magical methods to stave off time, but alas, time would know no defeat. Finding no answers in the research of others, I pioneered a new method of renewing my youth.
I meant to rejuvenate myself in spirit and body… I remember little but the flash of light and the stink of my own flesh as it sizzled and burned away. When I finally awoke I found that my magics had split me in twain. Something had gone horrible awry and had split my spirit and body in two. One half had many of the traits of my younger self, the spirit and passion of youth. That man, brimming with vigor and life, was the Samar you knew. After that horrible ordeal he returned to where he felt happy and safe, among his friends in The Wondering Fates.
Razsamar, the man you journeyed the dungeon with, felt nothing of the emotion and vigor of youth, he was old and tired, but what he lacked in energy he made up for in experience and wisdom. Razsamar sought refuge in his studies, spending the next long years in research and experimentation before finally understanding all that had occurred in his original magics.
When Razsamar had completed his tale, he departed, asking Nym to accompany him.
We saw neither wizard nor blue-haired Elf child all that day, but the two returned that evening, and Razsamar deemed to speak to us yet again. Grant him but a tenday, he said, so that he could identify the magical items we had discovered in the dungeon.
To calm our growing apprehension, he presented each of us with a small token bearing what I can only construe to be his own sigil. This shall guarantee my words, Razsamar promised. Something inside of me told me that the mage was not lying.
15th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.
Following Razsamar’s departure on the 5th, we each took the ensuing tenday as our own. I myself spent the week at the mercenary training hall, honing my skills as a duelist, as did a few of my comrades.
Our days were spent tired, sweaty, and sore. Our evenings were spent discussing the unfolding of events in Phlan.
Never have I seen such order in the streets of this city, and never have I sensed so much turmoil in its leaders. The disasters that befell Phlan on the day of the 30th of Tarsahk left its victims angry and seeking whatever scapegoat they could muster. It had been every nonhuman they could find that day, but now it was the mayor.
We had learned over the course of the past week that it had been the mayor, with help from hired Saerloonian soldiers from the Golden Sword Mercenary Company based out of Sembia, that had turned the tide of the uprising.
Tomorrow noon, on the 16th of Mirtul, she plans to address the city.
We didn’t discuss the matter further, because this evening also marked the return of Razsamar.
True to his word, he returned all of our treasure, as well as whatever information he could garner concerning their histories and abilities. He would not stay the evening in Phlan, citing urgent business in Unther, but he promised to return at the end of two months time.
16th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.
We converged at the courthouse just before noon to hear the mayor’s address. There, for everyone to see, she announced that she would be relinquishing her position as mayor of Phlan, and that the Council had already named her replacement.
It was to be Holondos Stimpiir, the kindly Turmish Cleric who oversaw The Waiting. It is hoped that under Holondos’s rule, stability and safety will be restored to the city. Upon taking the podium himself, Holondos explained that Kella Voskorm would continue to hold the position until the 30th of Mirtul.
On the 1st day of Kythorn, Holondos would be inaugurated as mayor of Phlan.
He went on to wish Tyr’s blessings on every one of us, and a bright future for Phlan.
He spoke only kindly of Kella, and explained that though the position of mayor was asked of him, he did not seek it out. Later, predictably enough, Bishop Dirten Andorias was granted the position of Revered Father of The Waiting.
While only Mattathias attended the ceremony for Revered Father Dirten, our entire group was invited by Holondos to attend his inauguration and the festivities that would take place afterwards, on the 1st of Kythorn.
20th of Mirtul, 1376 D.R.
Today was spent in preparation for the upcoming inaugural celebration. The entire city is bustling with activity, the spirits of the citizens dampened only by the mercenary presence, and even then it wasn’t too greatly.
I’m having the tailor in the Cracked Crown make a gown for me. It’s strapless with two layers, both of them a lovely blush color. The bottom layer is perfectly opaque, but the upper, more filmy layer, will be translucent. It’s going to be a lovely dress. I think I’ll have him sew some red silk roses around the bustline. That should be enchanting… Maybe I should have him also make a wrap for it.
AGH!
I’m starting to sound like *word scribbled out*. Nevermind the wrap, but I’ll keep the flowers. I would say that I hope there are some handsome and dashing warriors there, but if there were they’d be from Sembia, and I’d trust a Sembian about as much as I would a Cali:):):):)e camel trader. How eerie that was, that that thought just crept up on me…
When I start growing my hair out and spending hours “beautying” myself up on a regular basis, I’ll know I’ve finally become my mother. Heaven forbid I start oiling it! Or maybe I should just shave it off, like grandmother suggested? Oh how funny that would look! I’d look like a perfect little *scribble* wouldn’t I? Just like father always wanted…
Ooh, it’s time for dinner, I had better go.
1st of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.
We’re on the run again. The inauguration ceremony for Holondos went well, but the ball that took place afterwards wasn’t quite so nice. Normally I’d relish seeing a stuffy ballroom full of stuffy people suddenly erupt into chaos, but this was more than a simple mouse dashing up some lady’s leg or a cockroach in the soup.
The Fire Knives had poisoned the food and it wasn’t too long after we had sat down to eat that people started dropping all around me. Mithras and Nym began to gurgle and froth and they passed out, as did many others. I couldn’t tell you exactly how many the poison claimed, but in those long stunned seconds before everyone else realized what was happening and began to scream and charge for the door like panicked sheep, I could see that it was easily a quarter of the room, and much of those seated at the table of honor.
I grabbed for Nym and Mattathias hefted Mithras over his shoulder, and we both made for a side door. We were met by Anassa DuLar, the one-armed monk friend of Mattathias, who said that if we didn’t leave town right that minute, we would all die.
We moved as quickly as we could, and I gathered up our belongings and arranged for horses enough to carry us all. Mattathias administered a healing ointment to both of the stricken elves, and while they seemed to stop fading, neither was fit to ride.
We made our way from Phlan, yet again, leaving only chaos and fear in our wake. This time, we make for the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, somewhere in the mountains of Damara.
Our journey is taking us through Thar, and what a miserable place this is! The sun hasn’t shined since we set foot into this barren and wasted land, and the only traces of life we’ve encountered all day have been lurkers watching us from afar, and bones.
Oh wait…Katar managed to find us some conies. Oh yes, we met up with Katar a few miles outside of Phlan. Seems he was waiting for us. He had Cotton with him too!
Cotton doesn’t seem to enjoy Thar very much, but neither do the horses for that matter. I don’t think anyone else does either. It’s hard to believe that this was once a thriving mining area once... Now the only miners are whatever is big enough or mean enough to stake a claim out here. Honestly I hope they’re doing better than we are. The only promise I see in these mountains is death.
Isis hasn’t left her pouch once since we came here. nothing worth the effort I suppose. The others are deciding who’s going to take what watch. I guess I’ll take first. Mithras and Nym are still too weak to hold onto consciousness for too long. That leaves me, Mattathias, Katar, and Anassa.
It’s bitterly cold, the wind bites deep enough to chill your heart, and I hear strange sounds in the night, but I’m awake and alive. Out here, that’s all that matters.
2nd of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.
We’ve ventured deeper into Thar and I see no end in sight, but at least Mithras and Nym have made a tremendous recovery. The ointment administered the day before had done wonders to purge the poison from their bodies, and it was only a matter of time before its effects began to wear off.
Now, they’ve spent the day bundled together on the same horse because Mithras either can’t ride, or is too afraid of horses to ride one alone, and they’re back to their usual selves.
On a much sadder note, we met an ogre today, poor doomed creature that it was. He was sitting slumped against a sign-post and he begged us for food or money as we passed. Never have I felt so badly for an ogre as I did for that one, but I could see doom in his eyes, and I knew that it wasn’t far off for him. His leg was horribly mangled and it had long begun to fester. I think it was even gangrenous... it was swelling and it smelled like rotting meat.
Mattathias shared what little food he had with the poor beast, and Anassa gave it a potion and something else to ease its suffering. That ogre was so grateful. it gave Mattathias something I think.
After that, we continued on, in the direction of a town named Glister. Anassa claims that the portal to the Monastery lies near there, but we won’t be going the entire way to the town. The portal lies half a day before the city.
What a place Glister must be to survive sandwiched between this hell and the Galena Mountains. As we continued, we encountered more ogres, but these weren’t begging for what they wanted, they were trying to take it over the dead bodies of a merchant caravan.
We killed the ogres, but my use of The Art was enough to make the caravan distrustful of me. It seems that they were originally from Luskan. I can understand their apprehension, but it bothers me that they thought so little of one who had saved their lives.
After Katar demanded to know why the caravan leader was so rude to me, they told us, in essence, that we could take one chest from their broken wagon, then we could leave them be.
One of their wagons was overturned, and a wheel was shattered on the other, but they refused our help. Anassa said that we had no time to spare anyway, that we would have to leave them. It seems so pointless to save someone’s life only to leave them to possibly another cruel fate.
Anassa and Katar got into an argument over the issue. Well…over Mattathias’s deferment to Anassa regarding the issue to be more precise. Katar believes that Anassa is being cruel to Mattathias. He doesn’t understand... It’s easy to forget sometimes just how little experience Katar has had in the world outside of the Chondalwood.
After a shocking incident where Katar... exposed himself... (is it called exposing yourself when a Centaur does this?) to Anassa, we went on. I don’t know why that shocked me really. I’m familiar with animals, I guess I had forgotten for the most part that Katar is half horse. There’s nothing quite like watching him flop out his... horsehood... to remind you.
With a few acidic words, Anassa shot Katar down, and then skulked off to shadow the group, leaving the centaur fuming. The rest of us just decided to continue our journey, even though some of us were in turmoil about leaving the Luskan travelers behind, or just angry over Anassa.
Mithras, who had enough of either I suppose, stopped us about a mile later and pulled a bottle of wine from his pack. I didn’t see the wisdom in getting drunk in a place such as Thar, but Mithras began to speak, stating that we had shed blood for each other, and that we were all his friends.
He went on to explain to us that the bottle of wine he was holding was made by his kin out of some sort of ice grapes, how precious it was to him because he would likely never have another bottle, and then he uncorked it. He poured himself a small glass, and then he swore on that glass of wine, and his honor, that he would fight for and protect each and every one of us.
He poured another glass and passed it to Katar, who said that we were his new family, and that he would die to protect us. Mattathias did much the same, swearing his own life in defense of our group. Nym said something sweet, and far too wise for someone so young, and swore the same oath, though I’m not sure he completely understood what he was swearing to. I was last, and I wasn’t sure what to say.
I just stood there, holding that glass of Mithras’s cherished wine in my hand, struggling with my own thoughts. I wanted to, I really wanted to, but that’s not what I came to Faerun to do. That’s not what I set out to do when I cast father’s spell.
Could I simply cast away my goal, could I simply allow what I did to go unaltered for this group of people, my friends, before me? No... I can’t. But how could I possibly explain that to them who have just sworn their lives to protect me?
I blurted out something that I can’t even remember now, even though this was only just this afternoon, and I sipped the wine. I could not bring myself to drink the whole cup.
The others stared at me for a bit, expecting something more, but I couldn’t possibly say what I should’ve said. I just sipped the wine and handed Mithras back the cup. I felt like such an ass...
When the oath-swearing was over, we rode for a few hours, and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I know that what I am doing is the right thing to do, and... I must have looked so selfish to all of them.
Thankfully, we came across a scene that allowed me to forget for a little while. It was truly grisly. Orc women and children had apparently been slaughtered on the roadway and left there to rot. It looked like they had been running, and the ground around them was blackened and dark with their blood.
I thought that they had been slain with spells, but Anassa suggested that they were the victims of an orcish clan war. Looking at all the bodies I imagine the attack was swift and brutal. We didn’t linger there too long. We gave Anassa and Mattathias enough time to check for survivors. Finding none, we moved on.
We kept on for a an hour or so more, and it was as the sun began to set that Katar spotted the bird flying overhead, tailing us. It was just a small bird, maybe a wren, I don’t really know, I’m not very well versed in bird biology.
I know that Mithras and Katar debated shooting it down, and it made Anassa nervous to no end, but we decided that we would simply charge ahead as quickly as we could. Obviously, someone was watching us.
We found out who it was shortly after we crested a large hill and came upon a sizable clearing. There, in the center of this wide expanse of flat land, was half a boat!
Standing in the crows nest of the boat was a small figure, who promptly began to wave and project his voice at us, inviting us to come into his shop and sample his wares. His name was Smoot, he said, when we had gotten close enough for proper introductions.
He was a travelling merchant, a diviner wizard, and a collector of odds and ends both magical and mundane. He added that he was expecting us, and even addressed us by our names, or at least a reasonable facsimile of our names, even though we had given him said names. He kept calling Katar “Matar,” and he butchered Mattathias’s name in so many different ways I can’t list them here. He did have a very intriguing shop, however.
I myself purchased a few items there, one of them a gorgeous dress that changes color in accordance with the fall season. It’s a stunning vision in orange, red, and yellow during the autumn, but the rest of the year it’s an undyed shade of white. Smoot called it a Leaffall dress, and hinted that it is sometimes customary for the wearer to shed the dress on the last day of fall, presumably for a lover. I have no lover, but the dress is gorgeous nonetheless.
I also bought a small statuette that Smoot referred to as the Lady of Ixinos. He claims that it was unearthed from a deeply buried ruin on the island of Ixinos, which is located at the entrance to the Vilhon Reach. He couldn’t guess at an approximate age, but he said that he was fairly sure that it predated the Jhaamdath Empire, which would make it very old indeed. Neither of us has any idea who the woman was that the statuette depicts, but when I held it, I could feel the barest hints of magic. The magic almost seemed to shift as I held it. It bears some looking into later. Perhaps I’ll use the magical harp.
As for everyone else, I think Mattathias, Mithras, and Nym bought mostly clothing. Anassa didn’t buy anything, preferring to spend much of her time on watch. Katar doesn’t have enough money to buy what he wants. That centaur really needs to learn how to count.
Mithras, Mattathias, Nym, and myself are each going to donate some money to buy the things that Katar wants. We haven’t told him though; we want to surprise him.
Smoot allowed us to camp in his boat tonight. It really is amazing. It floats, he says, like a Halruaan skyship. I’m inclined to believe him. Afterall, however else are you going to get half a ship all the way out into the mountains?
Well, it’s time to go to sleep, maybe I can finally translate Razsamar’s scroll when I get to the Monastery. |
|
|
|
Arravis
Seeker
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 19 Apr 2004 : 16:14:52
|
3rd of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.
We aren’t at the Monastery yet, but at least we’re out of Thar. We had woken up this morning to find that, during the night, Katar had acquired a pet.
Tied to a rope that was also tied around Katar’s stomach was the most pathetic looking orc I have ever seen. It kept trying to gnaw itself free whenever it thought that Katar wasn’t looking. Its mouth was bleeding; it must have lost a few teeth in the process. We didn’t take it with us, of course.
After we had all eaten and gathered up our things to continue our journey to the portal, Mattathias and Anassa gave it some food and water, and some medicine for its wounds and an infection of sorts. Pity they couldn’t do anything for the smell..
Just before we left, Katar broke its shoddy spear and threw it into some tall grass, and then he set the orc free. The orc whimpered a little, obviously afraid that we might kill him (I think it was a him), and then he charged for his broken spear, picked it up, and waved it at Katar. Silly orc.
Katar jokingly lunged forward at it, and the orc screamed and ran as fast as it could back into the mountains. We all left after that.
Anassa claimed that it was only another few hours to the portal. She said that we should reach it around noon. The morning was without event for the most part, but just short of noon we encountered another caravan. This caravan was much larger than the caravan from Luskan. We counted maybe 50 men, most of them armed and armored and traveling on horseback.
Their wagons were stout and well-armored themselves, but the group flew no banners and wore no merchant colors. Anassa urged us to get off the road. She didn’t want to be seen, so she slipped off into the mountains to our left.
Katar went ahead to intercept a group of mounted men that were attempting to flank us from the right. The rest of us merely went on ahead to meet the small group that was coming in our direction.
They were curt, but not rude or threatening... they wanted to know where such a small group was headed. We told them Glister, and they nodded and went on their way.
We followed Anassa off the road when they returned to their caravan, and finally she led us to the portal. It didn’t look like any portal I had ever seen, but then I’ve only really seen arcane gates.
The field that Anassa said contained the portal held several large boulders. These Anassa had us align, stating that the portal would only open if the boulders’ shadows were in exact spots or somesuch.
When we had them where Anassa stated they should be, she pulled out a holy symbol from her top and attempted to open the portal. Nothing happened.
She gave up after a few minutes and said that she’d try again later in the afternoon. The portal only opened at specific times during the day, when the shadows were cast just right, she said.
The portal did open the second time, and when we had passed through it, we all found ourselves in an even colder place, somewhere high in the mountains. The snow came up to our knees and it fell so heavily that we could barely see what was a few feet in front of us.
Anassa was leading us further up the mountains. We were able to ride the horses for a short while, but soon the ground grew so treacherous that we worried constantly whether they would slip and fall. The higher we ascended, the worse it became, especially when we found ourselves on a narrow walkway, with a steep wall to our left, and a deep chasm to our right.
The ground was frozen, slippery in some places, and Anassa advised us that if the horses to were to slip and fall, we should let them, to not try and stop them. It’s better that they fall down the chasm instead of us.
It was so bitterly cold. I’ve never been so cold in all my life! I’ve begun to miss Mulhorand, all the sun, the heat, the feel of the warm sand between my toes.
Argh I HATE the damn north and the damn mountains and the damn snow!
This Monastery had better be worth this! We pressed on the rest of the day. I think we traveled all of 3 miles, if we’re lucky.
Right now, we’re camped in a sort of glade. There are trees surrounding us, and they provide a small measure of shelter from the wind, but it’s still dark and miserable. The snow is falling so thickly I can’t even see the sky.
Its still cold, how can the others not be freezing as much as I am!? Anassa and Katar are still being icy with one another. I don’t even know where Anassa is. Mattathias and Nym are asleep in their own bedrolls. Mithras is up a tree. I haven’t seen so much as a shiver out of him since we left Phlan….it must be magic. Elves aren’t exactly known for their hardiness.
Hmm…Anassa has just come back. She says that we should reach the Monastery tommorrow. That’ll be good. I hate being out here in the snow.
4th of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.
We continued our journey as early as we could, pushing our way through the snow and the wind for hours. About midday, as we crested a small rise, the Monastery of the Yellow Rose came into view in the distance. It was a gorgeous site. By then we had climbed so high into the mountains that we had risen above the snow. It looked like we were climbing higher than the clouds and the sun was shining so bright... it was beautiful.
The monastery was further on, on a distant peak, and the radiant sun glinted like off its surface and the peaks around it. The mountains looked like they were made of solid gold. It reminds me of Skuld, but more ethereal, more serene. It really uplifted the soul to see all that. It felt like I was beholding one of the seven Heavens. I know it made the journey go faster.
We encountered another traveler as we progressed, an Ilmatari worshiper who had bound his legs together and was dragging himself to the monastery.
He looked so happy to be doing so, he refused when we offered to help him.
He’d been dragging himself through that snow for miles, but he looked so ecstatic. I cannot even imagine, but then, many religions don’t make sense to me.
We had to leave the horses when we finally reached the long winding stair that would lead us to monastery’s door. Each of the stones in the stairs had a name on it, Anassa told us that there was a stone for every monk of the yellow rose that had died.
Anassa agreed to stay with the horses, and Katar agreed to stay behind as well. Anassa gave Mattathias something to give to the monk that met us, and the rest of us continued on up the stairs.
We finally reached the door of the monastery about an hour later. We knocked, but no one answered, so we just went on in and found ourselves in a fairly simple courtyard with a water pump in the center. A teenaged boy was pumping water into a bucket. He instructed us to knock at another door that we saw on the other side of the courtyard.
Well, the door was actually inset into the wall just beside an enormous locked stone gate. We sounded the gong on the gate, but nobody answered, so after a while we tried the door. The door opened into a narrow corridor that led to another courtyard on the other side of the towering gate.
That’s where we met our first monk. He was a gruff man, but then I suspect most Ilmatari are. He demanded to know why we were there, and Mattathias did most of the talking, as he should have.
Things went well until he handed the man the bundle that Anassa had given him. The monk grew very cold after that, demanding to know where we had gotten it and why Anassa “the traitor” had given it to him.
Mattathias told him what he knew, and the monk said that Mithras, Nym, and myself could all stay the night because it would be getting dark soon and it would be rude to turn away guests, but he said that Mattathias would have to come with him.
Mithras, Nym, and I were escorted into the monastery proper and showed to our rooms. Mattathias went with the monk. I don’t know where he is. Doubtless the monk is testing him, wherever he is, or at least I hope so. I know it would be terrible for Mattathias to come all this way to be turned away for something that isn’t his fault.
Anassa had to have known how the bundle would be received when she gave it to him. I hope he’s okay. It doesn’t seem to me that these people would be likely to kill him, but you never know sometimes. Maybe we’ll find out in the morning.
5th of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.
We weren’t escorted out of the monastery like I thought we would, which leads me to believe that Mattathias is still here somewhere too. I spent the day roaming around the building I’m in; it really is quite a lovely place.
I’ve discovered that the monastery isn’t devoted entirely to suffering at all.
They’ve artisans, craftsmen, artists and the like, and scholars. There is even a library, with books on other subjects than Ilmater! The best part is, they have baths!
I took a bath this morning. Best bath I’ve had since, well, for a while. I had baths in Phlan, but they were sorely lacking. These baths were wonderful! I feel clean, truly clean now!
After my bath, I practiced my harp, and then explored. I found Nym playing with a number of other children. I haven’t seen Mithras. I wonder how Katar is doing?
Aside from the monastery itself, there really isn’t much to write about, unless I want to admit that I spent the day “lazing about” as my sister says. The monastery is an old building, not as old as some buildings I’ve seen, but it is ancient by current Phlanian standards (I know that isn’t saying much really). It also looks sturdy enough to ride out a dragon attack. The walls here are thick, well constructed, and everything is very well maintained.
The décor is very plain, at least compared to other places I’ve been, but it’s still very cozy. I could get used to staying here. I think I’ll check out that library tomorrow.
25th of Kythorn, 1376 D.R.
It’s been a while since I lost wrote. Two weeks in fact. I just finished reading Elminster’s A Myth-Drannon Amphigory. It was a little long-winded, and the old man rambled on quite a bit, but it was very interesting nonetheless.
My translation of the “scroll” that Razsamar gave me is coming along well. I can already see that there are two different languages written on them. The first language looks very close to the language of old Netheril (thank you Dad for actually taking the time to punish me enough for me to learn that one). The second language looks completely alien to me.
I can make out certain words in the first tongue. I think it must be another form of Netherese, maybe a higher caste tongue, or a derivitive, even an ancestor.
5th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.
I’ve made considerable progress in my translations of the scroll. As I had guessed, it is most definitely another form of Netherese. In fact, I have determined it to be the language of Lorass, or High Netherese, the language of the Netherese ruling class.
This is so exciting! The grammatical structure, the word placement, word meanings, even the spelling of certain words is just different enough from Netherese. This language, Lorass, is so much more intricate, so much more difficult. They must have developed it so only their archwizards would learn it.
I can’t wait until I have it fully translated! I have only the very basic nouns, pronouns, and verbs translated now, and it’s still too ambiguous for me to say what I think it might be. I’d best stop thinking about it for now. If I keep myself so worked up about translating the scroll, I’ll never get to sleep tonight!
Other news, oh! I found the children that I had seen Nym playing with, but Nym wasn’t among them. It seems that the little blue-haired rascal has taken to spending time with the artisans. When I asked him why, he said it was because he wasn’t getting along with the other children. He wouldn’t say much more than that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, posing in all sorts of acrobatic positions for the painters and sculptors.
There are works of him all over the place, I would imagine they don’t get too many visitors up here, not to mention visitors who would pose so readily for a sitting. I remember having to sit and pose for family portraits, ugh.
We still haven’t seen Mattathias. I hear he’s still undergoing his initiation into the monastery. I hope he’s alright. We haven’t seen Mithras for a while either. Nym wants to go out tomorrow to visit him and Katar. Why he couldn’t just have stayed in the monastery I do not know. Why anyone would actually want to be out in that icy cold boggles the mind. Maybe I’ll go out with Nym anyway. For now, I’m going to try and get some sleep.
6th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.
Nym and I had gone out to visit Mithras and Katar today. Katar was nowhere to be found, and Mithras made it extremely difficult to find him, but eventually he came down out of the trees.
Nym and I had decided to build a snow-elf, and as we were trying to pack on the ears and make them stick, we saw Mithras peering at us from behind a snowdrift. Well, from under the snowdrift to be more precise. He had tried to cover himself in snow, but we saw patches of black hair and two beady purple eyes among the white.
When he realized we had seen him, namely when Nym ran up to hug him, he reluctantly stood up and made his presence known. His clothes were caked with snow and ice. He still didn’t look cold. He looked sheepish for a moment, just before that customary arrogant Mithras smirk found its way back to his face, but he certainly did not look cold. Yes, it had to be magic. I’ve never heard of ice elves.
When he had disentangled himself from Nym, he came over and critiqued our snow-elf. He said it looked more like a particularly ugly snow-goblin, or a particularly attractive human. I threw one of the ears at him.
Never hit him, of course, that jerk can dodge objects better than a Amnian spice merchant can dodge the tax collector. He just stepped nimbly to the side and folded his arms across his chest. I threw the other ear at him just to try and wipe that superior sneer off of his face. As he was side-stepping that one, Nym got him in the back of the head with a snowball.
It was a lucky shot, I’m sure, but it still took Mithras by surprise. He wheeled around to glare at Nym, just in time to see the elf-child go bounding off into the forest, shrieking with laughter. I briefly considered the risk of causing an avalanche, but clearly I was the only one worried.
Mithras ran after him, stopping momentarily to collect an armload of snow. I, not wanting to be left out of the fun, chased after both of them. I’m not too fast in the snow, suffice it to say, and by the time I caught up with them, Mithras had wrestled Nym to the ground and had buried him in the snow, only Nym’s head was showing.
Nym was still giggling, trying to escape from his snowy blanket. Mithras kept packing it on extra tight, threatening to leave him there. While he was busy piling on snow, I nailed him upside his pointy elf head with a nicely packed snowball.
Nym erupted in uncontrollable laughter, and for a moment I didn’t know what to do. Mithras just stopped adding snow to Nym, flicked the remnants of the snowball off of his head, and lunged at me! I was so surprised I screamed and tried to run! That’s when I tripped and fell onto my face into a deep snowbank.
As I was struggling to free myself, I felt a snowball impact the back of my head and I could hear high-pitched laughter coming from behind me. It was the first time I had ever heard Mithras laugh. I couldn’t believe it was him at first. I turned my head just enough to be sure it was actually him. It was...
I squirmed onto my backside, and I guess my mystified expression made him remember himself for a moment, because he abruptly stopped laughing and genuinely looked surprised at his own light-heartedness. That was until Nym managed to free himself and pelted us both with fresh snowballs. Mithras was hit in the side, but I was hit in the chest, and some of the snow found its way down the front of my tunic. Oh it was so cold!!
I jumped to my feet to try and shake the snow out as Mithras gathered snow for a counter-attack. Nym hastily erected a low wall out of the snow that Mithras had been using to bury him, and Mithras took pot shots at will, pelting both of us with snowballs even as I was still struggling to get to the swiftly melting slush out of my clothes.
When it became clear to Nym that his wall wouldn’t protect him, he climbed up the nearest tree and started to collect snow from the branches. Mithras ducked behind a different tree, and I took the opportunity to find a tree of my own to hide behind.
I could hear the battle raging from where I was hidden, the low, meaty thumps and crackles as tightly packed snowballs found the ground, the sides of trees, and snow-covered tree branches.
I myself was busy, still trying to get the now watery slush out of my top. I was so busy trying to dry my chilled flesh that I hadn’t even noticed the noises had stopped. I had just gotten all that cold, wet, slushy, icy mess out of my tunic when a huge pile of snow just fell out of the sky and landed right on top of me.
For a moment, I just stood there, in shock, but after a second or two I brought myself to look up, into the branches of my tree where Nym was smiling widely down at me. The two branches nearest to him conspicuously absent of snow.
“NYM!” I shrieked, and he laughed like a little blue-haired imp and scrambled onto another tree. When I ducked around the tree trunk to gain some cover against Nym, I was met by swift pain, and then white numbing cold as Mithras’s tightly packed snowball caught me directly beneath my right eye.
I stumbled about, blind in that eye, and finally slumped back against the tree.
The right side of my face, where the snowball had hit, was numbed and was beginning to throb painfully. I was aware that Nym and Mithras had stopped the snowball fight and were watching me as I gingerly wiped the snow off my face and tried, even more carefully, to wipe it from my eye. I could see as soon as I got all the ice and water out, but I knew that my cheek would bruise, probably a lovely shade of purple.
I lay my hand over the cheek to warm it, and then climbed back onto my feet. The two elves craned forward to see the damage done. I informed them that I was fine, and the fight was on again!
We threw snowballs, dodged around trees, and wrestled in the snow banks for a good while. We finally came to a stop when we were interrupted by three of the monks from the monastery. They had heard our shouts and laughter from miles away, and had come to investigate, warning us that our sounds might draw something hungrier and more dangerous than we were prepared to handle, like a remorhaz.
I couldn’t help but notice that they looked disappointed, I’ll bet they were hoping there was a remorhaz. I hear the monks here like to ride them for sport. These monks are insane.
At any rate, when we had stopped hurling snowballs and dodging behind trees, Nym and I decided to return to the monastery. Mithras, who had grown strangely moody after having so much fun, did not choose to accompany us back.
Nym had offered to stay outside that night with him, to keep him company, but Mithras said that he’d rather be alone. Neither Nym nor I could talk him out of his refusal, so we returned to the monastery alone.
We had dinner, and then Nym went off to do something. I have just returned from my evening bath and am about to settle into bed for the night. Maybe we can go out and have more fun tomorrow.
7th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.
Nym and I went out looking for Mithras again today, but we couldn’t find him. The expression on his face when Nym and I had returned to the monastery had been so forlorn, so sad, almost wistful. I hope he’s alright, I felt bad leaving him, frustrating bastard that he is.
I don’t think he’s dead, maybe he left or really just wanted to be alone, and not just for last night either. The two of us completed our snow-elf and then went back to the monastery. I believe Nym spent the rest of the day with the artisans. I spent the rest of mine here in this room, trying to decipher that scroll. It’s been altogether an uneventful day. I think I’ll turn in.
*Below is an image of the Monastery of the Yellow Rose*
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/attachment.php?s=370c73d57fbbce6b40ccc801fcff3aba&attachmentid=13865 |
Edited by - Arravis on 19 Apr 2004 16:23:52 |
|
|
|
Arravis
Seeker
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 19 Apr 2004 : 16:16:30
|
30th of Flamerule, 1376 D.R.
Over the past couple weeks, Nym and I went back outside the monastery to find Mithras. At first, we couldn’t, but eventually he reappeared, but he never showed any further desire for mirth, as he had on the 6th.
When Nym tried to engage him in play, he’d react in a highly surly manner and wander off. We still don’t know where Katar is. We haven’t seen him since the day we arrived here, and while Mithras says that he is safe, we don’t really know. None of us has heard from him. We haven’t heard from Mattathias either, though there is a chance we may see him at the festivities tomorrow.
Tomorrow is Midsummer and the monks are planning some sort of celebration.
I suppose even worshippers of the god of suffering have to have fun sometime. I wonder if there will be dancing. I’m going to assume that it’s too much to ask for to hope there will be some handsome young men there, men who don’t whip themselves, burn themselves, or ride remorhaz.
It would be nice to have someone to dance with, I haven’t been in so long. I haven’t been dancing since Samostil, almost 3 years ago? He was a really good dancer too, and handsome too. I can still remember those gorgeous blue eyes and that gorgeous round...eheh. Oh well…I’m pretty sure I won’t be seeing any of that here.
Damn. I’d best stop thinking about it, it won’t get me anything but frustrated.
Midsummer, 1376 D.R.
Today was a lovely day, even though we are still high in the mountains and it is still extremely cold. The celebration went splendidly! I think it’s still going on in certain areas, in fact.
There was music, singing, revelry, feats of strength and endurance, acrobatic displays, there was even dancing! The dances were all very simple, of course. Apparently the monks here aren’t very big on dancing.
There were some young men, some of them might have been handsome were it not for the self-imposed suffering, and the not-so self-imposed suffering and all of that. Still, it was a fun party.
Mattathias never made an appearance, but Mithras, amazingly, did come up. He glowered and kept near one of the walls the whole time he was there. If the monks had held an “I’m the biggest Party-Pooper” contest, he would have won! I know he can dance, I’ve seen him wiggle those narrow hips on occasion.
Pooper.
When the feast was over, many of the monks went out to ride a remorhaz. I wonder how many of them will come back? Normally I’d feel bad, but I don’t know what to make of these people sometimes. To think that Mattathias wishes to become one of them, I wonder if he’ll be able to pull it off.
Nym asked if he could go watch the monks ride that creature, and they very politely told him “no.” I could see that Nym was disappointed. Maybe Mattathias will let him watch if he ever decides to go try. I know I won’t be watching, ugh!
The smell of it must be horrendous! I would have to borrow Mithras’s nose plugs, as nasty as that would be! Ugh, to borrow noseplugs after an Elf, hahahaha! I wonder what mother and father would say to that? Nothing good I’ll wager.
It’s so late now and I can still hear music playing. At least you can’t say that Ilmater’s flock doesn’t party hard. I saw a few of them playing a drinking game earlier, or at least I think it was a drinking game. It involved a bed of flaming coals, one person standing in them, and the others pouring him a drink for every 10 seconds or so he stood there among the coals. Apparently this isn’t commonly accepted behavior, as I saw some of the older monks frowning in the direction of this small group.
One of them, a nice old man I have seen about a few times, explained that they were on holiday. The bottoms of their feet looked so ghastly horrible, I thought I would vomit.
All I know is, if I was granted a 10-day reprieve each year from suffering, I wouldn’t spend those 10 days making myself suffer more. But, at least they get a reprieve of some sort.
Tyrrans have to spend everyday of every year being stodgy and grim. Oh what a joy it must be to be a worshipper of Lliira, Oghma, or Sune!
I think I can hear some of the monks laughing, probably scalding their buttocks or something of that sort. I can only imagine what kind of dreams I’m going to have tonight.
10th of Eleasias, 1376 D.R.
We’re still here in the monastery, and while I’m making great progress on my translation of Razsamar’s scroll, I’m also beginning to wonder just how long our stay here will be. It has been over 2 months since we arrived, and we haven’t seen hide or hair of Mattathias or Katar in all this time.
To our complete surprise, Mithras is still out there in the mountains waiting when Nym and I venture outside the monastery walls. I surely would have died from boredom by now if our situations were reversed. Mithras tells us that Katar is doing well. Apparently, Katar drops by and visits with him on occasion, though Nym and I seem to completely miss the centaur.
The monastery is a lovely place, and it’s nice to finally be able to sit down and pore over my research like I have been doing, but every now and then I get the feeling that I’m just spinning my wagon wheels, not really getting anything done at all. I tell myself that I’m making progress just by getting this scroll translated, but then another voice inside of me asks how I can be sure that this scroll has anything at all to do with what I’m seeking? For all I know, this scroll could be some Netherese Archwizard’s grocery list.
Actually, I know it isn’t a list, I’ve determined that it is a letter in fact (I’ve gotten that far at least), though an interesting shift in viewpoints occurs just a short ways into it, and some of the words are still entirely alien to me. What exactly is a Sipas?
I’ve been able to decipher some of the names, and I believe much of the words are directions. Where the directions lead, I do not know. I only hope the rest of the scroll will tell me.
I’m still making absolutely no progress whatsoever on the other text at the bottom of the scroll. It’s like no language I have ever seen before, and I’ve seen a great number of languages, even if I don’t exactly know them.
I saw myself in a mirror today and I looked so tired, maybe I’ve been working too hard on the scroll. Perhaps I should take some time off. There are still plenty of interesting books in the library. Maybe a week spent reading something else wouldn’t hurt. I’ve a feeling we’re not leaving here any time soon.
21st of Eleasias, 1376 D.R.
I did, indeed, decide to leave the scroll to sit for a week, as I had written in my last journal entry. The following day, I had ventured into the library to select another piece of reading, one not quite so time consuming as Elminster’s tomes. The last few times that I had been in the library, I had noticed that the robes of the library’s keepers were different from those of the monks here. I managed to find out why.
The keepers of the monastery’s library aren’t Ilmatari, they are followers of Deneir. Followers of the god of glyphs and wards are scattered throughout Faerun with few temples or churches of their own, so many tend libraries in this place or that. Interesting.
The book I selected was Half a Life: A Halfbreed’s Journeys among the Elves, written in 993 DR. by Hural Artseeker of Rawlinswood. It took me about a week, and while it was interesting, I don’t believe I absorbed it fully. Much of the accounting was written in Espruar, and I, unfortunately, do not know Espruar. Oh well.
It was a welcome diversion, and it made me wonder if mother wasn’t right about elves, to some degree. I remember what father said about them…"Arrogance without conviction?" was that it? No, I believe it was…"Even the most spineless of fools can be arrogant when not called upon to act." That sounds more like it. Father never did like elves, neither did mother for that matter, but that was for another reason altogether.
So tiring it was trying convince her that she was basing her hatred on something irrational, on a personal emotional bias, and then Amecia had to go and prove her right. Damn Amecia.
She partly redeemed herself by allowing mother and father to raise Ryes, though she hated that the money for his upbringing came out of her own personal allowance. Serves her right. Ryes deserves a better home than she would have given him.
I miss him, I miss all of them.
I want to go home...
3rd of Eleint, 1376 DR.
I haven’t written in a while, I’ve been so busy with the scroll again. All I’ve done for the past eleven days is wrack my brain over it, and I’m so tired of it all. It’s Eleint already, we’ve been at this monastery since early Kythorn. Summer has past us by while we’ve cooped ourselves up inside these thick walls. Autumn is now upon us, and still I see no promise of leaving here any time soon.
I understand that this is very important to Mattathias, but I think of all the time I’ve wasted being here, and it makes me want to cry. I could have made it all to Waterdeep in the time I’ve spent here. Well, maybe not Waterdeep, but Cormyr at least!
If I had kept up digging in Phlan, I might have found something by now. Maybe that hole where the Paladin’s Mount was could have been drained, and I could have excavated there... DAMMIT!
Tonight is a full moon, and I went outside to admire it. It reminded me of all those nights years ago, and I really wanted to pray. To ask that I decipher this scroll soon and that we can leave this place, but who do I ask for that What do I say? How do I do without sounding like I’m whining?
Argh! I just want to get OUT of here!!
I’m going to go outside of the monastery for a while, take a long walk, maybe it will clear my head, maybe it will keep my from just finding my horse and riding away from here forever.
4th of Eleint, 1376 D.R.
I took that walk, and it did clear my head. I went out a little before sunrise, and I got to watch as the sun rose. It looked so beautiful, the whole mountainside was dark and cold, but then, in a flash it became so radiant and white as the sun crested. The light was blinding for those first few moments, and I actually knelt down and greeted the sun, as I had everyday when I was child and father had bade us do.
It felt good to do that, it was very comforting. It was so much like being at home. I’m sure Horus is aware that I’m not that good a Mulhorandi, in so far as the religion goes, well, so far as liking his policies go, but I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to greet the sun every now and then.
The sun was so warm, and it made me feel so alive to see it rise out of the darkness like that. When I had finished my prayers, I pulled my uncle’s mizmar out of my cloak and played it as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, casting its light farther and farther.
I just sat there on a cold stone and played every song I knew until the sun was almost completely overhead, and I didn’t have the breath to play anymore. I didn’t have any water to sooth my dry throat, so I cupped the snow in my hand and drank of the chill water.
Refreshed, I commenced with my walk. I walked to where Nym and I had built our snow-elf a month earlier and found that another snow-elf had been built right beside it. It was better than our snow-elf. Whoever made it had gone through the trouble of actually sculpting it into a recognizably elf-like creature. It even had clothing etched into it, fine clothing. It was probably Mithras’s creation, though I didn’t see any evidence of the tall elf around.
I walked to the spot in the forest where we had had our snowball fight. The snow had long since reclaimed the place, you would never even have guessed someone had once been there. I continued on, making my way through the forest, breathing in the cold air and remembering why I had come in the first place. I didn’t venture far, not wanting to encounter a yeti or something big with a taste for human sorceresses.
Besides, every now and then I’d get the feeling that I was being watched. I had a feeling it was either a monk or Mithras, but you never know. He, she, or it never came out into the open, and I never asked it to, I tried to ignore it as best I could.
I ate some bread from the monastery’s kitchen, and stayed outside until the sun set. Being outside of the monastery helped me to remember why it was that I came here and solidified what it is that I need to do. I need to finish translating that scroll, and I need to do whatever it takes to find a way to finish this and set to rights what I’ve done. That, above anything else, is my purpose here, and that I what I must bend all of my energy towards making happen. Everything else is secondary.
When the sun set I played my mizmar again for Horus Re, and then I climbed those stairs again and returned to the monastery. I’ll begin anew with the scroll tomorrow morning. I’ll finish it soon, no more complaining, and no more stalling for time. I’ve wasted too much time already.
17th of Eleint, 1376 D.R.
Another full moon tonight. I’ve spent every day since the 4th poring over the scroll. It’s amazing how much progress I’ve made since that day outside. I believe the scroll to be a Netherese translation from Roushoum, the dialect of the long-lost Imaskari.
If my beliefs hold true, then likely the language at the bottom of the scroll itself is Roushoum. Whether those writings are the original language that the Lorass translation is derived from, or something completely different is still a mystery to me. Either way, I may never know what it says.
I don’t think there’s anyone in the realms who knows how to read Roushoum, and that’s including the Chosen of Mystra. Well, if father’s theories are correct, there’s one person who knows, but I’m not sure I want to go that route. If I have to, I’ll try, but...
I’ll go out into the courtyard and stare up at the moon tonight, it’ll be good to go outside again. I always did like Autumn. Saed always thought that Spring was the most romantic of the seasons, but I always believed that it was Autumn. There was always something about it that spoke of longing and love lost...
I can’t say that I ever enjoyed Winter though. It’s pretty enough, particularly in the Silver Marches, but I never really fell in love with it. Maybe it’s because my parents viewed the snow and cold as something to be avoided. It’s understandable, neither of them grew up in very cold places, so they made sure we didn’t have to either.
I wonder how Saed is faring...
Highharvestide, 1376 D.R.
Today is Highharvestide, and the monks aren’t celebrating in any traditional sense. Many of them are leaving tomorrow though. A few of the people here who aren’t monks are leaving tomorrow too, eager to make some headway on their journeys before the icy claw of Winter sets in. We won’t be among them, as Mattathias is still being initiated into the monastery.
To some degree, it feels already as if Winter has already set in. The days are growing shorter, the skies darker, and the air colder. It’s happening little by little. The monks say that by the end of Marpenoth it will feel as Winter does around the Moonshae region. It will get colder from then, they say, warming again around the month of Ches. By the gods, I hope we aren’t still here when Ches comes around. I don’t want to spend my 20th birthday here.
5th of Marpenoth, 1376 D.R.
We have now been at the Monastery of the Yellow Rose for five months, and still no end is in sight. I know that it is still Autumn, but, just as the monks had said only five days ago, it already feels like Winter.
The snow has ceased falling, but it isn’t melting either, and some of it has frozen into forbidding ice drifts. Only the hardiest and most determined of Ilmater’s followers would dare make the trek up here beyond this point, which means we’ll only be seeing monks coming and going from here on in.
It is nearing the date that started my whole quest to begin with, and I estimate that by the end of this month I may have the scroll fully translated. It is indeed a Lorass translation of a letter written in Roushoum in the time of the Imaskari empire. There are indeed directions, though some of the names still elude me. Some of them I do recognize, however.
I believe the letter was sent from somewhere around the Moonsea, I can’t be sure though as I still don’t have the details translated fully. I had no idea the Imaskari empire spanned such a distance. Even if this scroll doesn’t lead directly to what I need, it should no doubt be interesting to see just where it does lead. The Imaskari were an empire mighty in magic, just maybe I can find something worthwhile.
17th of Marpenoth, 1376 D.R.
My translation of the scroll is nearly complete, and I believe my grasp of Lorass is sufficient that I will be able to translate further writings should I encounter them. I believe it is the Roushoum words that are still eluding me.
Today was my mother’s birthday, and the date that I, the date that made all of this necessary. If I had only listened to Saed, if I hadn’t gone out of my way to defy him, and if I hadn’t been so horribly horribly wrong. None of this would ever have needed to happen…
I should have just swallowed my pride, my mother’s life was worth far much more than a stroke of my ego, or true acceptance from father. I know that’s the real reason I developed that spell in the first place. Unlike the others, I never made him proud, ever... I think.
I can’t blame him though, I knew better even as I was doing it. It was all my fault... all mine. I wonder if any of them can ever forgive me. I wonder if mother can forgive me, wherever her soul may be.
Often I’ve considered just going to visit her, but honestly I don’t know what I would do if I encountered her here. She wouldn’t even know she was my mother. How would she react if she ever found out? How would father react? It’s better that I stayed away. Better for all of us.
No word yet on Mattathias or Katar. Mithras is being grouchy as usual, when he decides to interact with Nym and myself. Nym has been spending his days practicing his acrobatics and tumbling in the monastery training halls. He seems to be really enjoying himself. I can understand, I haven’t seen many other places that he can practice without drawing the ire of someone.
Mother had a really great gymnasium, Nym would really like it. He’d be better at it than I was, certainly. I couldn’t even scale that 12 foot wall, some cat burglar I would have been! Still, I should be honored that she took the time to teach me.
I think I was the only one of us who received any of that type of instruction.
I remember how I used to think that Amecia was her favorite child, she spent the most time with Amecia, indulged Amecia the most. That’s why I was so shocked when she confided in me that she really thought I was the most like her.
I was nothing like her, I said. I could never be like she was, so beautiful, assured, calculating... I remember that she said that I was most like how she could have been, had she had the chance.
I’m certain she didn’t mean that she could have been a complete and utter arcane failure, which is what I ended up being. I only hope I can right things. I have to. If I don’t, then I truly am nothing to be proud of.
30th of Marpenoth, 1376 D.R.
Today is Raza’il’s birthday, though I’m not sure if I should celebrate it. Can someone have a birthday if they haven’t been born? I suppose not. Still, I shouldn’t forget, I already forgot Ghalib’s birthday back in Flamerule.
I wonder how Raza is faring? Is he still trying to tame the madness that is Unther for the favor of his Pharoah and god? I know that he is simply doing what a holy knight should do, but still, I hadn’t thought our family name had become so tarnished that the only way to revive it is to seek glory subjugating other people.
He never understood why I thought so little of his duty, he couldn’t understand why I hated what Mulhorand was doing. If by restoring blessed order to Unther and bringing the Untherites into the worship of the “true” pantheon means virtually enslaving that entire realm, then Mulhorand be damned!
I do worry for Raza though, if he continues on, then word of him will reach Thay, and then what will become of him? The bastard Red Wizards have already proven that if they can’t destroy mother or father, then they will certainly settle for murdering their children. To think of what they would do to Raza’il...
Maybe they’ve already done it, I don’t know. Hopefully Horus Re will protect the one who serves him so faithfully, even though he hasn’t protected so many others from the same fate. But enough of this line of thinking, it’s only making me depressed, and I need to stay focused.
My translation of the scroll is nearing completion. In fact, I should be done in the next day or two. When it is finished, I’ll scribe a copy of it into this journal, in case it should become separated from me. Well, off to bed, and sweet dream, if fortune smiles upon me.
3rd of Uktar, 1376 D.R.
Mattathias has finally completed his training! He was initiated into the Monastery of the Yellow Rose as a full-fledged monk. I have other good news too. I have finally finished with the scroll!
It is written as follows:
Grand Seal of the Chever Lyceum
Variations Arcanum
Opus Enclave
Second of the Roushoum Tablets
Transcribed and Translated in 2672 by Ielo Jerland of the First Age
For the inspection of High Planer Gharj Manaal from Lord Apprehender Sipas Kusis. I hope this correspondence finds you in high mind for renewal after the disaster that has befallen the Grand Planers. Thankfully, our research outpost has been able to find a renewable and easily accessible food supply the southern and eastern supply routes. Seems that our isolation has given us a reprieve from the eastern chaos.
I have sent a shipment of twenty quats to your outpost since our own supplies are plentiful. Along with that, I have sent the journals of Inango, 100 drams of diamond dust, 50 bars of silver, and Illeyana’s doll. I’m sure she has been sorely missed.
Be certain to be cautious when using native water supplies. We ourselves have come across several parasitic problems. It is likely due to the poisons that seep into the river from the northern mountains, though we have found the water from the Dragon Sea to be quite safe. Regardless, the silver should alleviate any water problems you might have.
Lastly, have you heard news from the Goldenblood Mountains outpost? I suspect they have none of the water issues we have has since the Great Glacier as at their doorstep. I plan to travel there within the year so that I might stand on the Mountain of the Eagle once more before we leave our past behind. Last I heard from them, Hilo’s research had moved along rapidly and he writes of a new way that might allow us to journey faster than any of us had expected. Though I fear it might not be soon enough if the last three outposts are to survive. So many of the others that fled into hiding are gone. It seems like only a matter of time...
Lord Apprehender Sipas Kusis
The rest of the scroll is unintelligible writing, presumably Roushoum.
I can only assume that the Opus Enclave that this letter is addressed from is on the Moonsea somewhere, and that the Goldenblood Mountains outpost must be somewhere near to here. I know that an enormous glacier used to cover this entire area at some point, but I don’t know precisely how long ago that was. A good place to start looking for the Goldenblood Mountains outpost would be to find this Mountain of the Eagle. Perhaps the monks here will know.
I am determined to find this location, but convincing the others to accompany me may prove a little tricky. We should be leaving soon, and I’m hoping that because we’ve been here for so long, the others will be hungry for a little adventure. Tomorrow I’m going to pitch this little excursion to them. With any luck, they won’t be too much against this.
4th of Uktar, 1376 D.R.
We’re leaving to go find the Goldenblood Mountains outpost tomorrow! We learned from a group of the monks that the Mountain of the Eagle lies near here, in the Glacier of the White Worm. They each claim that it’s a different amount of time away, so I’m not sure how long it will take us to get there. Hopefully, it won’t be too long.
After going over my atlas, I’m certain that it will take at least a day, possibly two. We will be accompanied by one of the monks, a fellow named Dmitri, who has been there more than a few times. We will meet up with him tomorrow morning to begin our journey.
We’ve already gathered our supplies. It’s hard to contain my excitement! I hope we can find this outpost and that its still in good condition. If luck smiles down on me, it will be completely untouched. If not, maybe I will still be able to find something interesting. At the very least, maybe there will be a magic item worth enough for me to gain access to Candlekeep, or valuable enough for me to sell to fund some research, or trade for some time with a sage.
I’m going to need some wine just to get to sleep tonight! Actually, I wonder if they have some brandy...
5th of Uktar, 1376 D.R.
We started out this morning, just as planned. It is far colder than I thought it would be. It’s hard to believe that it’s still only Autumn! We began our journey early, with Dmitri leading the way down out of the monastery and into the mountains all around it. We headed west, thankfully descending the mountain the entire way.
Currently we are camped beneath an outcropping of thick mountain rock, huddled around our small fire and keeping a wary eye on the darkness. The creatures are more likely to find us with the fire going, but the chance of that happening is less than the chance of our freezing with no fire at all.
The others claim to have seen a large creature mining the rock, but I must have missed it. Nym says that it was large and blue and stood on two legs, and it scowled at us, watching us go by. I wonder what it was. That’s the only sighting I know of. The only thing that I’ve seen are rocks and snow.
This place still isn’t as dismal as Thar, however. I’ll never forget how wretched that place was. No, I imagine that the Earthspur Mountains may at least be pretty at some point in the year, I don’t think that could ever be said of Thar.
The others are deciding which watches to take, and Mithras is climbing onto the top of the outcropping. I’ve volunteered for the first watch, Mithras has taken second, and Mattathias has volunteered for third.
I hope we’ll be out of this whole region by Winter. Autumn is bad enough, I don’t relish the idea of weathering out a Winter on the Moonsea or in the Bloodstone lands. I can still remember this past Alturiak...
I suppose I should put this down and actually keep watch. Wouldn’t want anything creeping up on us. Funny how the Elves snicker at us humans not being able to see at night, but then they expect us to keep watch. Oh well.
Maybe Mithras will fall off of the outcropping and land in the fire, or at least get a hot cinder down his pants. At the very least, some animal should bite him. That would teach him.
Actually, it probably wouldn’t, but it would at least be funny. Funnier than watching everybody else snooze. I wonder if Nym knows that he twitches in his sleep, or if Mattathias knows that he snores. I hope I don’t snore, it’s entirely unattractive.
Uncle Mirt snored, wow did he snore! Isis even snores a little, though she’d deny it. I tend to drool a little when I sleep, and that’s bad enough! When Grandma Lureene snored too, what was it that Saed said? "When Grandma Lureene snores it sounds like titans breaking wind in her mouth…?" Smelled like it too...
I suppose I shouldn’t speak too badly of her. She was nice enough, if a little addle-brained, besides, it’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead. We all made little jokes about her, but we did feel bad when she died. We weren’t surprised though, not with the life she led, the continued drinking and partying that she did didn’t help matters either.
I should know not to keep depressing myself like this. I’m going to put this journal away now and do my job. It’s bitterly cold, I think I’ll add some more of this scrub wood to the fire. Damn this stuff stinks...
*Below is an image Arravis made of the Imaskari scroll. If you look the top text is actually in english, just in a difficult to read font. Made translating it a real-world task ;)*
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/attachment.php?s=370c73d57fbbce6b40ccc801fcff3aba&attachmentid=13866 |
|
|
|
iglazkov
Acolyte
United Kingdom
1 Posts |
Posted - 03 Mar 2010 : 02:27:50
|
| Great story |
|
|
| |
Topic |
|
|
|
Falling Leaves: Most unusual tales of the Moonsea
