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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
 Posted - 08 Mar 2023 : 21:56:23
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Errand of Mercy (1377 DR, maybe 1371 DR)
By Roger E Moore
Utter East
conquered people, the Mar [1]
tarok, the lowest class of the Mar [1]
bahrana, the few middle-class Mar [1]
Doegan
a sprawling slum that spilled around the gray walls of Eldrinpar, the seacoast capital of Doegan [1]
hot, dusty streets of his neighborhood: a packed maze of low, baked-mud homes, filled with the cries of children and the shouts of adults. [1]
the sharp-nosed conquerors called the Ffolk, staggered down Ikavi's home street after taking a wrong turn on the way back to his barracks. The poverty-stricken Mar fled before him, fearing the soldier would cut them down or otherwise abuse them. He could do this with impunity. No Mar had the rights of a Ffolk. [1]
The ffolk man spoke and thought in the harsh consonants of the invaders' Thorass, not the liquid Mar an tongue Ikavi knew. [1]
In those days, it was the practice to immediately execute tarok troublemakers of any age without trial. [1]
wearing the silk clothing of a Ffolk noble child [1]
the high windows of the palace's lone tower, looking down at the countless poor dwellings beyond the city walls. [1]
the mage-king of Doegan, Aetheric III, the unseen master of Doegan's great bloodforge [1]
the mage-king sent his voice to the Chamber of Councilors [1]
In time, Ikavi Garkim was acknowledged to be the mage-king's personal agent in Doegan. He was loyal and patriotic, educated and well-spoken, determined and ruthless. At last the mage-king sent his voice to the Chamber of Councilors and announced that Lord Ikavi Garkim was one of them. Doegan, said the mage-king, was infested with unseen forces that would bring it low unless they were stopped. Only Lord Garkim-a small, brown, flat-nosed outsider in a sea of white, sharp-nosed faces-could detect those unseen forces, and he had been given almost unlimited authority to root out such evil wherever he found it. The other lords took to Ikavi as they would to a serpent in their beds, but they, too, knew a bit about the unseen forces arrayed against Doegan, and they felt their lives were better with the serpent at their sides than not. [1]
he read their minds. Accursed names and unspeakable deeds blew by him in a typhoon wind. This one had cut the throat of a girl who knew his secret. That one, who spied on soldiers, was going to run to a house across the street where he would hide in a cellar. The woman biting into his left thigh had sacrificed her baby to join this group. [1]
Garkim shouted in Maran [1]
But there was no master in the man's thoughts. He had never seen his master, the high priest of the Fallen Temple. His dreams had told him what to do, only his dreams. [1]
"Citizens of the Imperial Reaches of Doegan!" the sergeant shouted in Maran. "Listen to the words of Lord Garkim!" He said "DOH kun" as some of the Mar did, instead of "DOH eh gen" with a hard g, as did the Ffolk. [1]
both arms raised the way Mar tribal elders did at clan meetings. [1]
the gray-bearded Lord Erling [1]
Lady Hetharn [1]
a bottle of liko agnar, the liquid fire that Lady Hetharn's laboratory kindly provided for our department. [1]
Captain Taergen, kidnapped by the cultists of the Fallen Temple and sacrificed (eaten) by them [1]
the Field of Heroes. [1]
Lady Hetharn advises me that we cannot connect any of them (Fallen Temple) to the killing of the soldier and mail-rider outside Eldrinpar's walls the other day-yes, Lady Hetharn?" "That was most likely the work of aerial monsters." Lady Hetharn spoke quickly and knowl-edgeably, back in her element. "There were no tracks beyond the immediate area, and the prints and claw marks we found suggest that giant eagles or griffons were the cause. They must have been attracted by the scent of the horses. [1]
Council General (of the Chamber of Councilors) [1]
Go into the Vault of the Stone Arch, and prepare to greet those who arrive there. Bring them to the palace and ensure their comfort. No visitor could get into that building without proper authorization, which meant the visitors were…coming through the Stone Arch. The gate to Undermountain was opening! The gate in the Stone Arch had not been activated in decades. The visitors were coming from that buried horror of horrors, Undermountain, far to the northwest. Doegan had known little contact with the old lands of the north, but the howling depths of Undermountain, the cavern of horrors, were legendary everywhere. [1]
The mage-king never explained himself, and it was useless to try to read his mind; his thoughts could not be read by anyone. No doubt this was a byproduct of his long use of the bloodforge. [1]
the royal stables next to the ministry [1]
Your arrival was foreseen by my liege, our emperor, the Mage-King Aetheric III of the Imperial Reaches of Doegan [2]
A cool breeze at their backs from the coast [2]
Alas, horses do not fare well here. A few came when this land was settled, but most died from disease. What few we have left are for important business only, not for easy rides across town. The red oxen and our eternal friends, the elephants, are far more durable. You are in no danger from this beast. It is quite intelligent and friendly. [3]
the visitors would be happy to dump their armor by nightfall once they'd experienced a bit more of Doegan's late-summer heat and humidity. [3]
The robed driver called out a command in Maran, prodding the beast with a hooked implement. The wagon lurched forward as the elephant took up a slow, steady pace through the street past waving vendors, yoked oxen hauling carts, and endless numbers of dusty, robed citizens. [3]
"To begin with," Garkim said pleasantly, "we properly refer to our realm as an empire, not a kingdom." He glanced at Noph. "As things stand now, however, all of our provinces are in rebellion and have declared themselves independent, so we are technically less an empire than a kingdom. For now, at any rate. You are the guests of the Mage-King Aetheric III, Emperor of the Imperial Reaches of Doegan. This fine city is our capital, Eldrinpar. The Doegan Empire is the most powerful of all realms here, and our navy is supreme throughout the seas of what you call the Utter East. I should say that the term, 'the Utter East,' is not used much these days except perhaps by poets. We refer to our lands as the Five Kingdoms. [3]
"Doegan and the other realms were colonized just over two hundred years ago by a fleet of Ffolk from the Moonshae Islands. You have heard of these islands, yes?" Garkim saw the five men nod and nodded himself in satisfaction, looking away again at the street scene as they rode. "This region was already long inhabited by my own people, the Mar. We are smaller and darker than the Ffolk, as you see, and my ancestors' ways were less civilized than those of the divinely blessed newcomers. The Mar did not fare well against the conquering Ffolk in their various wars and rebellions, but eventually the two groups made peace and settled into their present civilization, which has benefited everyone." Garkim paused. He could tell from the group's thoughts that they had already noticed that the short, brown Mar in the street around them were poverty-stricken, while the few people who had visibly pale skin were well-dressed and well-fed. [3]
"The original fleet from the Moonshaes was commanded by Duke Aetheric, an ancestor of our emperor, who is said to have left the Moonshaes to destroy pirates to the south. It is rumored that the duke hoped to gain enough treasure from raiding the pirates that he could pay off debts of his own, but who can say for sure? He had assembled ships from several sources in the Moonshaes-a Count Boarswic, a Lady Cambor, a Baron Parsane, some temples, and a group of Northmen in longboats. The fleet met no pirates but suffered dreadfully from the ravages of plague, which caused many ports to deny them entry, food, and treatment. The fleet was forced farther south by this and by great storms until it came to rest on the beaches of our fair land." [3]
"Which temples went with them?" said Kern, the red-haired holy warrior in the gold-scale armor. "Hmm." Garkim stared ahead at the high tower of the palace in the distance, weighing his reply. This could be a touchy spot. "I will consult the old writings for you concerning that point," he said slowly. "The references are confused on this. Tern-pus and the Earthmother, certainly, were among them and are with us now." He cleared his throat and resumed. "As I was saying, the ships dropped anchor here, and the various groups held council to decide what they should do. Conflict swiftly broke out between them, and each group finally elected to go its own way. "They called this place the Utter East and formed five different kingdoms. Duke Aetheric became the king of Doegan, Lady Cambor queen of Edenvale, Count Boarswic king of the debased and degenerate realm of Konigheim, and the Northmen settled their own rough spot, which they called the Mead-Hall of Clan Chief Harvald. Baron Parsane and his ship were tragically lost on the voyage over, but the crews of his surviving ships established the Free Cities of Parsanic, which are as chaotic a group as you could hope to deal with. Best for you that the gate led you here. Tis a pity it… ceased to function." [3]
"The temples' ships… The representatives of the temples were denied a vote in the fleet's last council. One high priest had been killed by a sea monster before landing, and many priests were dispirited and had lost their powers. They settled among the Ffolk in the various colonies. Many of these former priests gained power in an evil cult later, but that's another story." [3]
"the various colonies were settled, and the Mar, the inhabitants of this fertile land, came to an accommodation with the invaders [3]
"The Founding Lords, the Ffolk who landed on these shores, explored this new realm. They investigated the old ruins that dot our land, meddled in sacred tribal lands, hunted for gold and whatever valuables they could pull from overgrown tombs. They were like puppies, digging for their treasures, but they were not wise-or so some of my people say. The Ffolk built their kingdoms, and this much was well and good, you see, but the digging into old ruins-this is dangerous even in your home lands, is it not?" [3]
"A hundred years ago," he went on, "an explorer from Edenvale looted an old temple and found a great glowing stone. It was so large that he had to bring it back in a wagon, but the queen made him rich and had her wizards and priests set to work probing its secrets. In time, they discovered some of its powers, and they named this stone the bloodforge." [3]
"You said the queen of Edenvale had her priests study this device, the bloodforge," spoke Miltiades loudly, trying to drown out the whispering. "Were these the same evil priests you talked of earlier?" "No, no, they were not. A large number of priests had come on the voyage, and most are still honored in our kingdom today, though most of my own people, the Mar, prefer the original gods who held sway here. [3]
The queen of Edenvale learned to use the powers of this device to conjure up magical beings, sufficient to create an army of unthinking and loyal troops. This was power unheard of, as you can imagine, and she put it to use at once against her rival, the king of Konigheim." [3]
"I believe the king of Konigheim at this time was Brand the Slaver King, as the first Boarswic had died long before. This was a hundred years after the settling of this land by the fleet. The queen of Edenvale then was Rosamund Flame-Hair. And yes, I am not fond of Konigheim, nor is anyone fond of Konigheim who is sane and a lover of life and law. To this day they kidnap our border citizens and sell them off farther north into slavery, though we repeatedly make them regret such doings. But I digress."[3]
"Rosamund and Brand fought, and Brand's forces failed. They could not prevail against the army Rosamund's bloodforge had brought forth. Then Brand found a bloodforge of his own. He conquered Rosamund's forces and took her bloodforge, too. But he was himself murdered by his own family-a common thing in Konigheim. While Brand's kingdom fell into civil war, the forces of Edenvale's royal consort, the dead queen's husband, discovered another bloodforge. Then the Northmen found the fourth, and finally our own King Helvar found the fifth. As was his right by decree of the gods and his ancestor Aetheric's command of the fleet that brought the Ffolk to these shores, King Helvar declared himself emperor of the Five Kingdoms and set out forcibly bringing order to the land. He was unsuccessful, but his example continues to inspire us in the present day." [3]
"What do these other kingdoms think about having you bring order to them?" The casual question came from the visitor who had not yet spoken-the secret wizard, Trandon. The question, though expected, was irksome. "They are not fond of the idea, of course," said Garkim briskly, "but it is a shame, as the disorder and chaos has produced terrible grief in this land. The Free Cities of Parsanic, which know little of true responsibility and all too much of their selfish freedom, gained the services of one of the warring factions in Konigheim, which had its own bloodforge. At this point, each of the five Founding Lords' states had a bloodforge, and I can cover in full the events of the following decade merely by saying that we were perpetually at war, all the Five Kingdoms, though it cost very few lives. The bloodforges conjured whole armies with a few moments' work, once their secrets were understood. A few real, live persons died now and then in the raiding, to be sure, but for the most part we were spared the horrors usually visited on kingdoms engaged in such activities." [3]
"Indeed. It became all too apparent in time that use of the bloodforges had a price, one that was not evident when they were found. They rendered changes in the blood and bone of those who used them, which… um…" He hesitated. He had not had to explain this in many years. His diplomatic tongue failed for a moment and his headache increased. He decided to backtrack. "Those who used the bloodforges were changed in many ways that soon reduced their appetite for using these ancient devices. Equally troubling, it was also discovered that the bloodforges somehow attracted the attention of monsters, and the more often the bloodforges were used, the more monsters appeared and the more trouble these monsters brought. Our kingdoms have largely been at peace for the last seven decades, thanks in great part to the foresight of Mage-King Aetheric II, long may he live in memory, who discovered the connection between the coming of the beasts and usage of the bloodforges. He raised up true armies again, which had nearly vanished except for palace and personal guards, and he made Doegan a realm with real might, a sanctuary and haven against a tide of darkness." [3]
"Ah! We are almost at the palace; the drawbridge is around the corner ahead, to the right. We must dismount here and cross over the bridge by foot. You can admire our little Eldrin River, which was rechanneled by King Erwain, son of Aetheric I, to serve as a moat. A lovely job he did, too." [3]
To destroy the bloodforge carries a sentence of death [3]
the price for use of the bloodforge extended to the entire population of the Five Kingdoms? That his ever-increasing headaches were only one symptom of a physical weakening that year by year spread wider and wider in Doegan, among Mar and Ffolk alike? It was, he reflected wryly, the supreme irony of the Utter East: as the populace grew weaker, the rulers relied more heavily on the bloodforges to keep the armies of the fiends at bay. But every use of the bloodforge weakened the population still more, continuing the vicious cycle. [3]
Palace guestroom. The warm, stuffy room to which the five men were taken was an octagonal chamber about forty feet across. A broad crystal dome replaced the ceiling, revealed a bright blue sky above; brilliant flowers and long green vines hung from brass pots suspended from the ceiling by thin chains. The furniture in the room was made from a rich, dark wood, the thatched seats and backs of rough fibers dyed in colorful striped patterns. Long silk tapestries hung from the rough stone walls. The floor was covered by a thick carpet whose colorful pattern had faded from exposure to sunlight from above as well as the scuffing of shoes. [4]
Miltiades. He came out of his room. In his right hand was a small jeweled mirror. "I speak with my wife Evaine in Phlan using this device, but I cannot do it now. Something is blocking the magical link between this mirror and Phlan, probably the same force that prevents Khelben from scrying on this city." [4]
a tall, bald, bare-chested man. He stooped to pass through the seven-foot doorframe. His skin was a maroon red, the color of dark clay, but he was far larger and more broadly built than any normal human. To Noph, staring in amazement, he seemed more than eight feet tall, with enormous muscles that properly belonged on a wild beast. A little giant, Noph thought. Before their eyes, the giant's body slowly sagged. The muscles seemed to deflate, and the bones bent and curved as if they were rubber. The men armed themselves swiftly, but there was nothing to fight. Within minutes, the giant's body had decayed into a flat translucent mass of brown matter that reminded Noph of apple butter. This material gave off an odorless smoke as it shrank in size, until it had completely vanished. Speechless, Kern toed the area of carpet where the giant's body had been just ten minutes ago. Not even a stain was left. [4]
It is a history of these lands. It says what our host said earlier, but adds a few things. There were five separate temples that joined the fleet that colonized this region. One temple turned rogue and was cast out; the other temples went on to become established here." "Which temple was that, the rogue one?" asked Kern. "I don't know. It appears to be the one now called the Fallen Temple. The other temples were to the Earthmother"-he grimaced-"Waukeen, Tempus, and… Umberlee." [4]
We are having sea fowl this afternoon," said Garkim. "It was a traditional dish of my people, before the Ffolk came. To our amazement, the Ffolk made the dish even better. It is not as spicy as it formerly was, but I hope you will find it palatable. [5]
"Our wine sometimes has that effect," said Garkim, as if nothing had happened. "It is rather strong and has a few local fruits and spices added to it during the fermentation process. I will inquire about the identity of the spices, if you wish." [5]
a bright yellow apple [5]
"Obviously, he is a wizard king. We do not have many wizards in our land, and certainly few of his ability. He surprises all in Doegan, almost every day. We have become rather accustomed to being surprised, I fear. When he told me you were coming, I was taken aback, as no one has come though the Stone Arch in many years. But that the emperor would know of your coming-" He raised his hands in mock surrender and smiled. "As I've said, we have grown used to that sort of thing." [5]
The mage-king has a bloodforge, as does every ruler of the Five Kingdoms." [5]
He uses his sorcery to investigate various places around our kingdom and particularly our city, but it is difficult to say whether he hears everything that is said by his subjects, or sees everything they do, even within his own palace. He has so many things on his mind lately, it is impossible to know what he is doing. [5]
Entering the throne room. If you suspect a trap, I am more than willing to enter first. That would be a grave breach of protocol, of course, but if it would ease your fears…" [6]
vast, darkened hall whose floor was made of flat, fitted stone. This was a throne room? It was huge, but there was no furniture, and the room had a dank odor to it. The walls, as high as three-story buildings, were covered with floor-length red curtains. The ceiling was a great length of high rafters from which a few globes cast a dim, watery magical light over all. [6]
"We are here," said a deep voice that filled the chamber. We are the emperor of Doegan." There was no anger in the voice. There was no feeling in it at all. [6]
A bloodforge was used to kidnap Lady Eidola," said the voice. "It was not the bloodforge of Doe-gan that was involved in this act. Your lady was taken by the bloodforge of Ysdar. [6]
"Ysdar is the leader of the Fallen Temple, an evil cult within our lands. We are not sure of Ysdar's present or former identity. The cult preys upon all peoples in all countries here. It has captured or excavated its own bloodforge and now uses it against our imperial domain and all other kingdoms and states in this region. Ysdar is the spirit of annihilation. Were you to destroy the bloodforge that shields our domain from Ysdar's legions, you would doom us and all our subjects. The Imperial Reaches of Doegan would be an eroded wasteland in less than a decade." [6]
"The Fallen Temple is the twisted remnant of the most powerful of the five Temples of the Southern Clave which joined the Right Armada, the fleet assembled and led by our ancestor, King Aetheric I, from the Moonshae Islands to the shores of our Utter East. As divine punishment for the vile offenses committed by the priests of this temple during the voyage of the Right Armada to the Utter East, all priests of this temple were stripped of their holy powers and spells. As mundane punishment for endangering their fellow voyagers, they were stripped of their right to vote at the last Great Council, and they gained no collective or individual fiefs from the Founding Lords as they divided up the Utter East. "These heretics, bitter at their punishment, sought out other high powers that would invest them with a semblance of their former abilities. Their descendants found a patron native to this land, a corrupt and ancient entity that has sought to destroy all life here, from ourselfdown to the lowest beggar. The bloodforge of Doegan is our shield against this wickedness. Your plan to destroy our shield would reduce all you see to ruin. You would murder our empire for the life of one woman." [6]
the Fallen Temple. In these lands it is also known as the Temple of the Broken Hammer." "Lord Garkim speaks the truth," said the room-filling voice. No one turned to look for it. "Patriarch Justarvis, High Avenger of Tyr's Church of the Southern Clave of the Moonshaes, fell in with the priests of Tempus, the depraved Count Boarswic, and the rapacious Northmen. Justarvis was convinced to take vengeance on every ship and town that would not offer their plague-stricken ships refuge and healing. The patriarch and his followers looted and burned and murdered, calling their acts righteous and deserved punishments for their victims. For his many foul deeds, the patriarch was rewarded by your god Tyr with a hideous death, caught in the arms of a kraken and dragged screaming with his bodyguards into the depths of the Great Sea, mere hours before our shores were sighted and the Right Armada landed." [6]
A thick, snakelike shape with yellow scales as large as plates rolled into view, pressed briefly against the opposite side of the wall, then pulled back into the darkness. It was as wide across as a man is tall. "It's a water tank!" shouted Trandon. Shock and horror radiated from his features. "The wall is glass! Don't break it, or well drown here!" Another snakelike tentacle, coiling in the black water beyond, appeared and pressed itself to the wall. This time the tentacle remained, its scaly skin covered with cancerous wounds. Peeling, rotting skin trailed in the water around it. Noph felt a terrible urge to flee as another tentacle appeared to the right and pressed against the glasslike wall. A hand with fingers as big around as tree limbs appeared out of the darkness. The fingertips brushed the glass with a rough thump, then retreated and vanished. Another great stirring of water rumbled through the walls and floor. A vast, faint object, oval in shape, appeared beyond the wall. It drifted forward until everyone in the room could see it clearly. "We are here," said the voice in the room. "We are the emperor of Doegan." [6]
"We are the emperor," said the voice in the air. The thin lips of the yellow-gray monstrosity on the other side of the wall did not move. Enormous round eyes, black as shiny onyx and as large as windows, stared out at the group. The nose was broad, the nostrils each an arm span across. A pattern of scales ran over the face but did not mar its strange, ghastly beauty. The reptilian coils at the bottom of the black wall twisted slowly around, ever in motion. "Lord Garkim informed you that the blood-forges made certain alterations in those who used them," said the voice. "It is said that all kings of Doegan are fond of the sea. Our spiritual kinship with the sea, beginning even before the building of the Right Armada, has gradually taken on physical form. We can speak with the use of magic from our bloodforge, but such time is limited by the nature of the device. We will not be able to communicate with you much longer this day. We must take pains to be concise. "The water in our dwelling is poisonous, Kern of Phlan. It is excreted by our skin, and it is hostile to all living things. Should the wall between us be broken, you would swim in liquid death. It would eat the flesh from your bones while you screamed and choked. Your own wife would not recognize your remains." [7]
"She has been captured by the forces of Ysdar of the Fallen Temple," said the voice. "We believe she is being held somewhere here in our own city, but is so warded that not even we can detect her location. You are right in your belief that the power that prevents outsiders from spying upon us with magic is generated by our bloodforge. It is an invisible shield woven by ourself. We will not take it down. Fiends and bloodforge armies would fight over the rubble of our empire within a decade were we to lower our defenses. There are more crucial issues for our city and our land than your quest for a petty noble's fiancee. You will hear us out on this matter, then make your choice." [7]
"The bloodforge generates an enormous degree of magical potential, which can be harvested by its user and converted into actual magical ability. We were not born a wizard, Miltiades of Phlan. We were born a normal man, destined to rule like our father, who was also a normal man, though the bloodforge had already altered him so that he was forced to spend the better part of each day bathing in a tub to keep his skin moist. We were changed more than he, because we learned early in life how to unlock the full potential of the bloodforge, and so took on more of its alterations than our ancestors." [7]
"Our body is not our bloodforge's true curse, Miltiades of Phlan. Our bloodforge gathers its magical potential from the land around it. This ancient land is soaked in magical power. Our bloodforge drains the magic in the earth, buried under the soil, rock, and water, and offers it for our use. But as the magic drains from the land, it drains too from a great barrier-ward that was placed upon this region ages ago, by the ancestors of the Mar. The barrier-ward has weakened from long use of the bloodforges by all the reigning lords and kings, and it barely separates our world from that which it was meant to seal off. The curse of the bloodforges, Miltiades of Phlan, is that they have left us vulnerable to outworld horrors who would feed upon us as hungry magpies feed on worms. Their use has nearly bred our ruin." [7]
"Then you have a very poor imagination, Kern of Phlan. Lord Garkim will show you documents and bring you sages that confirm the truth of our words. Two months ago, we took pains to ward our city against attacks by tanar'ri from the Abyss, which were given knowledge of our bloodforge by Ysdar's agents. As we now speak, our city is slowly becoming besieged by fiends and monsters that lurk in the savanna and jungle around us, looking for a way past our walls to wrap their clawed fingers around our bloodforge and carry it away. The human debris that bows to Ysdar creeps past our gates, and the Fallen Temple grows stronger in our realm with each sunset. Our doom is truly at hand." "They were doubtless among the first of the army that is arrayed against us, an army that is strengthening by the hour. There is but one course left to us all. You cannot destroy our bloodforge merely to allow Khelben Arunsun to see you through his crystal ball. Your gate to Undermountain is destroyed, and you are trapped within these walls with the rest of us. Our enemy is your own. You must work with us against our mutual foe." [7]
Ysdar, the secret lord of the Fallen Temple, that creation of Tyr's justice-loving priests who contaminated our empire with their holy filth two and a quarter centuries ago. Is it not ironic that the righteousness of Tyr's paladins now throws her forever into the claws of cannibals and torturers who were themselves once among Tyr's chosen?" [7]
"Miltiades of Phlan, we challenge you to ask your god if you and your comrades should join forces with such as us. Our wards do not prevent communication with divine powers. [7]
"Send triple our usual offering to the Temple of Umberlee this evening. Then speak with Wavelord Gethonar if you feel the need for additional advice or assistance in this matter." [7]
Vault of the Stone Arch
A light breeze from the sea stirred the fronds of the palm trees lining the streets outside the high-domed vault of the Stone Arch. The four guards at the top of the Vault's granite steps came to attention when they saw a sweating Lord Garkim jump from his horse, leaving it untethered in the street, and race up the steps toward them. The guard sergeant stepped forward uncertainly to challenge him. "The password is zal tran kor mokV Garkim barked, hurrying past the larger man. "Guard the entry!" The guards backed off, looking at one another in astonishment. The guard sergeant shouted for two of their fellows down the street to join them, and they took up positions of greater alertness, their weapons drawn and readied for an unknown foe. Ikavi spat other passwords at the guards at the second doorway, then stood impatiently as the two huge bronze doors there remained closed a little longer. His eyes took in the white pillars, the nervous soldiers, the huge solemn statues to either side of the inner door, the curling paper on the wall with its brief regulations for guarding the vault. One of the two massive doors creaked as it slowly opened inward. No one was visible on the other side. Ikavi waited, teeth grinding, as the door opened fully. Just beyond the doorway was a huge, squat, doglike statue sitting on its haunches, in a narrow hallway that curved off to the left and right away from Garkim. The stone dog was as thick as a bull and the height of a man, its expressionless eyes looking in Lord Garkim's direction. The dog's stone lips abruptly moved as if they were flesh. "You may pass," it said, then returned to its state of immobility. Garkim stepped through the door and heard it slowly shut behind him. He hurried on to the left, toward the final set of doors. "The gate in the Stone Arch is opening!" he shouted. "The arch gate is opening!" called an invisible guardsman somewhere above. Whispers and a metallic rustling echoed through the curved hall, then-nothing. Magical silence reigned. Lord Garkim reached the far doors on the inner wall and pulled up short. "Let me pass," he said, panting from exertion. The doors vanished. He went through the doorway, then heard a rush of air behind him. The hall through which he had passed was now sealed and trapped with magical stone and iron. Garkim walked into a vast, bright hall, octagonal in shape, with thick, round pillars reaching along its walls to support the high dome above. Rippling colors reflected from the marble walls, nearly drowned in the sunlike brilliance of the magical light pouring down from the ceiling. Metal nails in Garkim's boot soles clacked and echoed until he came to a stop and eyed the great chamber. It appeared to be empty except for a lone object standing in the center of the room's colorful tile-mosaic floor. Only forty feet away was a dirty gray arch carved from a single slab of rock, covered with glyphs and runes. Garkim had seen this chamber several times before on routine visits. The elaborately etched stone had not changed, nor had the "door" of rainbow light that filled the space beneath the arch. Garkim glanced at the floor, noted his location on the complex mosaic, and stepped back a pace. He allowed himself a deep sigh. He'd apparently made it in time. The flickering rainbow curtain inside the Stone Arch faded; a ripple of darkness filled the space instead. Lord Garkim flinched. He had never seen a gate in operation. The inside of the gate was now an opaque black surface. His right hand strayed to the hilt of the long sword strapped to is belt, but he forced his hand down to his side. It would be damaging to betray fear with guards watching him from above. [2]
They were holy warriors of Tyr, the ancient god of justice! Did they know of…? No-no, they were here seeking someone, a kidnapped woman… [2]
Look down at the mosaic floor on which you are standing. You must not cross the great circle of flowers made from red and yellow tiles that you see. [2]
Ikavi Garkim
He was sickly and his mother did not expect him to live long. It was months before his father finally named him Ikavi Garkim. He hoped the boy would make a good carpenter if he survived to his eighth year. His family was tarok, the lowest class of the Mar, and struggled for food and money that the bahrana, the few middle-class Mar, took for granted. [1]
Ikavi survived many illnesses in his family's one-room adobe home, lost in a sprawling slum that spilled around the gray walls of Eldrinpar, the seacoast capital of Doegan. [1]
His stubborn survival was not the only thing that made him different, though. His peculiarity became clear as soon as he could speak. He acted before orders were given him; he mouthed secret thoughts without knowing their meaning. At first everyone thought this was marvelous, but in the end no one could tolerate it. No thought was safe near him. Relatives and friends ceased to visit the tiny home. Ikavi's parents punished him for speaking their thoughts aloud; later, to gain privacy, they simply sent him away, or else filled their heads with mindless chants, songs, or prayers when he was near. Ikavi frowned when they did this, which unnerved them. Other children found Ikavi's mind-reading annoying. They threw stones at him until he ran back to his home or hid. Ikavi usually played by himself [1]
the mage-king himself had ordered that he stay at the palace from now on. [1]
After his arrival at the palace, Ikavi was regularly brought into the mage-king's meeting halls. It soon became clear that he was being trained for some purpose. The Ffolk soon feared little Ikavi almost as much as they feared their mage-king, for the boy's telepathic ability was combined with a great knowledge of the kingdom and its people, and many secrets beyond. [1]
In time, Ikavi Garkim was acknowledged to be the mage-king's personal agent in Doegan. He was loyal and patriotic, educated and well-spoken, determined and ruthless. [1]
Lord Ikavi Garkim, Councilor of Internal Investigations, returned to his old neighborhood an hour before dawn, twenty-six years after he had left. [1]
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Forgotten Realms Alternate Dimensions Candlekeep Archive
Forgotten Realms Alternate Dimensions: Issue 1
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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George Krashos
Master of Realmslore
Australia
6666 Posts |
Posted - 13 Mar 2023 : 02:43:54
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Don't forget that the Double Diamond novels and Grand Tour of the Realms are all Realms novels in the literal sense of the word. They are fiction written by authors in the Realms itself. They are not FR novels in the normal sense. Hence, their utility in terms of Realmslore for places, people and events is ... total fiction.
-- George Krashos |
"Because only we, contrary to the barbarians, never count the enemy in battle." -- Aeschylus |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 13 Mar 2023 : 09:22:21
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Lost Library of Cormanthyr (714 DR to 1368 DR)
By Mel Odom
600 Years Ago
Gyynyth
Gyynyth Skyreach. Elf. [prologue]
Skyreach steeled herself, pushing away the fear that threatened to consume her. The devotion to the quest she'd been given by her great-grandfather would see her clear. [prologue]
She wore her copper colored hair tied up and was dressed in a warrior's leathers. The metal breast plate she'd ordered readied before the sea drank down the sun hours ago banged against the side of the ship, held by the braided leather thong she'd used to tie it into place. [prologue]
Barely half the captain's size even though he was Tel'Quessir as well. She held her long sword bared in the other, the runes etched dark in the metal. [prologue]
She was not used to having her decisions questioned, much less challenged. Her temperament would not allow it, nor would the station her great-grandfather had bequeathed her. [prologue]
Her great-grandfather had seen to her tutelage himself, graced her with his motivations, and turned her relentless in the pursuit of his goal. [prologue]
She knew she'd kill the captain for his impudence alone, not even allowing the man the offense of laying his hands on her. But, perhaps, she still had need of his skill. That was the only thing that stayed her hand. Originally from Myth Drannor, left it when the Army of Darkness attacked. [prologue]
She had never failed her great-grandfather while he was alive, nor would she allow herself to fail Faimcir Glitterwing's memory. [prologue]
Scaif. A tall elven warrior turned to face her. He wore simple leather, but Scaif had been one of the most trusted men in her great-grandfather's courts. [prologue]
Verys, Thin and nervous, the old man. Verys had marched as a boy with her great-grandfather, quickly rising to captain of one of Faimcir Glitterwing's signal corps. Slain by pirates. [prologue]
Skyreach murmured a quick prayer to Rillifane Rallathil, god of the wilderness that she found herself so far from now. Cormanthyr had been the only home she'd ever known. Evermeet was only a place her great-grandfather had bade her visit a few times, not home at all. And it lay days in her future. Provided she had a future. She swallowed hard and remembered her great-grandfather's words and the importance of the duty she was doing. [prologue]
Faimcir Glitterwing had acquired a number of enemies over his long life span. Her great-grandfather's stand against allowing humans into Cormanthyr despite Elminster's arguments that had swayed Coronal Eltargrim and the Elven Court had never wavered.
She didn't hate the humans. At least, she didn't hate all of them. There were many who'd been brave, and had died defending Cormanthyr against the Army of Darkness that had gathered to bring the city down. But there'd also been many who'd tried to ransack the city and the homes of the inhabitants on their way out of town. Some of those had died on her sword. What Chalice of the Crowns carried was only a fraction of what remained to be taken out of the doomed city. It represented her great-grandfather's legacy. She would not let it be taken. [prologue]
Though the woods were her home of choice, her great-grandfather had seen to her education even in boating. Sailcraft had been one of the old man's loves, an interest he'd carried with him since childhood. If they'd lived nearer the ocean, had more business there, Skyreach had no doubt that they would have owned a ship instead of her having to lease one for this voyage. [prologue]
So much of Faimcir Glitterwing's life's work was wrapped up in that cargo. Yet so little of it had they been able to carry. The other journeys that would be required to claim the rest of her great-grandfather's legacy would require even more cunning to complete. Only certain knowledge that his legacy would be well guarded until her return had given her the strength to leave it.
The humans deserved whatever hells they wrought for themselves. And if there was a way, Skyreach would send Coronal Eltargrim there among them. [prologue]
Skyreach couldn't count the dozens of foes spread across the other ship's railing, but their sheer numbers told her that she had been betrayed. Someone within her great-grandfather's courts had told the raiders what the prize aboard Chalice of the Crowns was. Or someone had paid dearly for the ship's capture.
She didn't try to fathom who the traitor might have been. There were many in Faimcir Glitterwing's House who felt she should not have received custodial responsibility for the wealth he had amassed. She had even agreed. But it had been her great-grandfather's bequest, announced by the law-reader after his death. [prologue]
Skyreach could feel the mystic forces that sparked around her. She was very sensitive to any actions conducted through the Arts, even had some of the talent herself and had a modest list of spells she could perform. Besides the sword, she'd been schooled in spellcraft as well, learning of it even if not possessing the means. [prologue]
Cylthik stood before her, huddled in robes. His ever-present mage's cap rested askew on his head. Blood spotted the iron-gray cloak he wore. The old mage's eyes looked rheumy and unfocused. The gnarled staff in his hands possessed a clawed foot that it hadn't had before, and the talons were sunk deep into the hardwood deck. The old mage held onto it with both hands. [prologue]
She had always kept her distance from men and women she commanded, especially those like Cylthik who had known her as a child. Command was never easy, and familiarity—she'd been told—only bred contempt. She pushed the emotion away. "Thank you, Cylthik. Now see that it is done." [prologue]
Skyreach knew that Cylthik's magicks would make the sea give up those dead. Their souls were already claimed by a service that they would not be released from. She moved out of the hold as two more pirates came at her. [prologue]
A chill ran through Skyreach at the confirmation. Rumors still circulated concerning the how of Faimcir Glitterwing's murder. She felt it change to anger, and held onto it. Cylthik's magicks rose stronger around her. The mage had prepared long for this day, all of them hoping against it.
"You've signed your death warrant," Skyreach said. [prologue]
A jagged streak of white-hot lightning seared the sky, showing two giant tentacles emerging from the ivory-capped foam. Both tentacles latched securely onto Chalice of the Crowns.
"Squid!" one of the pirates bellowed in terror.
The cargo ship suddenly jumped, then dropped abruptly, tugged deeper into the crashing waves. Water filled the holds, but Skyreach knew the cargo would be protected by Cylthik's spells and wards. The mage had bound powerful forces to his bidding, including the giant squid (kraken????) that was pulling the cargo ship under. [prologue]
Skyreach tried to move her own feet, and found that Hagris's predicament was hers as well. She glanced at the rest of the ship, finding pirates and elven warriors and ship's crew likewise adhered to the deck. Everyone aboard was doomed, held like flies in amber.
Fear swelled within her, but she kept it at bay, accepting the fate that lay before her. It was all part of keeping her duty to her great-grandfather. Then the sea closed over her head, at first cold to the touch and leeching the warmth from her body. Instinctively, she struggled against it, fought against drawing the briny liquid into her lungs.
The time came when she could no longer fight the impulse to breathe. She drew in great draughts of the salt water, filling her veins with ice.
And she began to change, to become something both stronger and weaker, something that would hide her great-grandfather's legacy forever. [prologue]
Chalice of the Crowns
Captain Rinnah. Elf. Captain of a ship - Chalice of the Crowns. Big and burly, his hair a twist of wet knots and his finery all undone by hours spent in the inclement weather trying to find safe passage through the storm, he looked to be a ferocious opponent. A brace of throwing knives went around his waist on a weathered belt made of lizard skin. The scarred and worn handles of the knives showed much use and a certain... familiarity. [prologue]
Large storm front [prologue]
Pirates
Before the storm had arrived so quickly in all its gale and fury, one of the trio of pirate ships that had pursued them from the Sword Coast for the last few days had been closing in rapidly, finally cutting down on their lead. [prologue]
Lightning split the sky, igniting the metallic scale and cut glass encrusted visage of the Eye of the Deep that had been worked into the prow. The beholder-kin lived only at great depths in the sea. The artist who had rendered the reproduction had worked masterfully, making the obscene round body as large as a man, including the ten eye-stalks, the great, staring, central eye above a slash filled with razor-sharp teeth. [prologue]
Human, dwarf, and kobold fell backward or over the side of the pitching railing as the arrows took them. [prologue]
Markiln Hagris gained the deck with acrobatic ease. Broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, the man was Tel'Quessir, a Gold elf. He'd held a high station on the Council of Twelve. His armor would have prevented such physical alacrity had it not been mystical in nature and wrought from the best metalsmiths in the City of Songs. His face was lean as a wolf's, his nose as pointed. Long red hair was tied back in braids, trimmed to lend him an aristocracy that his features failed to give him. "Unlike many in Myth Drannor's courts, I believed in what Faimcir Glitterwing was doing. Preserving knowledge from the masses. There are things to be known only among the Tel'Quessir, and only a handful of them are to know it all." "Yet you allay yourself with humans and kobolds, and social malcontents. No wonder my great-grandfather never allowed you into our home."
"His mistake," Hagris assured her, "and he paid his life for making it." [prologue]
1368 DR
Baylee Arnvold
Baylee Arnvold, has an animal companion Xuxa – an azmyth bat that can communicate with him telepathically and has been with him for several years [1]
Xuxa. She was three feet tall, twin-tailed, and her body colored emerald green, her wings only slightly lighter in color, like the beard at her throat. Her intelligence was high, but her telepathic communications with him usually interpreted themselves with his words to ease in understanding. Still, a few strictly bat-thoughts occasionally intruded into their conversations. She was his companion by choice, in no way a possession. Blessed with a life span of over a hundred years, she was decades older than Baylee and sometimes grew irritated that he did not give that more credence when they disagreed. [1]
His true home in his heart was the Sword Coast [1]
Ranger [1]
Baylee moved lithely through the forest, relying on his ranger's skills. Something short of six feet in height, and slender despite his broad shoulders, he wore his mane of black hair loose, tied back now by a rawhide headband stained deepest blue. Clad of the forest, he wore deerskin breeches, a sleeveless deerskin shirt, and knee-high moccasins crafted of jaculi skins. The particular tree snakes used in his boots were from poisonous boomslangs. The hides were supple, carefully crafted together, waterproof, and maintained some of their ability through magic to blend in with their surroundings from the lightest greens to the darkest black. [1]
Bronze skin, kissed by tropical suns as well as the Sword Coast where he'd grown up, marked him as an outdoorsman. A handful of scars tracked his arms and face, leftover reminders of brushes with fang and claw, and weapons. His eyes gleamed harsh jade like a cat's, captured in them the intensity of the wild.
He worked his way around the area he held suspect in his mind. Xuxa's telepathic ability only extended sixty feet or so. In a few more strides, he would be out of the azmyth bat's range, having only his own senses to depend on. The only weapon he carried was the dagger he used for meals, and to clean and skin wild game. He'd been trained by his mentor to rely on his wits, not the weapons most men carried about. [1]
The lack of weapons, Fannt Golsway had often reiterated, made a man use his head. And it made him make certain his needs and wants were attended to by something more than a mere moment's passion or a passing fancy. Of course, Golsway was also a mage. Baylee would have relished having some of the old man's abilities at the moment rather than the meager few spells known to him through his ranger studies. [1]
The bond between Baylee and Xuxa was something more than mere ties between a ranger and a companion. Past companions had never been as close or gotten to know him as well. But then, Xuxa was the first that had the ability to really get to know Baylee. He knew Xuxa would never willingly leave him. In the past five years, they'd never been separated despite all the hardships endured. [1]
Baylee moved silently through the forest. He was as at home in the verdant green as he was on the unforgiving sea or on the highest mountain or in the crypts, tombs, and burial sites he'd prowled through. He'd seen them all in his twenty-seven winters. [1]
He pushed all stray thoughts out of his mind, concentrating on one problem at a time. From his earliest youth, Golsway had chided him constantly about taking on more than he could handle. But the eagerness in him was something that he had trouble containing. That same eagerness was what had prompted the old mage to invest so much time in an orphaned youth begging scraps on the streets, and what had ultimately driven them apart when Baylee had been a young man come into his own vision of his career.
If he did find what he was seeking in the abandoned well, Baylee had promised himself to return to Waterdeep after the ranger forgathering at the Glass Eye Concourse (look in rangers handbook????) and show Golsway the item he hoped to recover. Maybe it wouldn't bring them together again as they had been, but there'd been almost three years between visits as well. They'd grown; he had, at least, and maybe Golsway had softened with the years. How much remained to be seen. [1]
that time in Mulhorand when he and Golsway had recovered the Orb of Auras, which had contained a codex that had given scholars clues into one of the dead languages contained in that country.
It had been the third meeting with Jaeleen, and the first time they'd been intimate with each other, giving in to the impulses both had. However, Jaeleen had taken advantage of that tryst to steal the Orb of Aurus. Golsway had been incensed, and it had taken them six days to track her down and steal it back only moments after she'd sold it to a rival collector. She got to keep her money, and Baylee and Golsway had barely escaped with their lives. The Orb was now part of a collection in Candlekeep where scholars still worked on divining the languages detailed in its codex. [2]
Exploring the elven environs of Cormanthor, in particular those in the Tangled Trees after Fannt Golsway had been invited by one of the elven families to pursue a lost cache of heirlooms thought destroyed when Myth Drannor fell, had schooled him in the ways of woodcraft. His mentor had only been partially successful in recovering the lost items, but in the months that Baylee had lived among the elves, he'd learned how to pass through the trees as if born there. [2]
Graceful as he'd become over the years since his teaching in the Tangled Trees, [3]
daring adventurous who leap before they look end up in unmarked graves," Baylee growled. It was the first rule Golsway had given him as a boy. [3]
Baylee breathed a quick prayer to Mielikki, the Lady of the Forest [4]
It was a sacrificial well, Xuxa intruded into his thoughts from above, and Vaprak is a jealous and vicious god. He would have known if the trollkin stripped their victims of their wealth and claimed it as their own. It probably only took Vaprak killing a semi-loyal follower or two before his displeasure was made clear and the others fell in line with his demands.
Going through the accumulated bones took more time than Baylee had at first guessed. From the mention in the herbalist's book, he had come expecting to find a number of victims. The section in the book had been written before Lord Woodbrand had broken the hold the trollkin had on the land. The ranger had figured some families of the deceased would have exhumed the bodies for proper burial.
Perhaps there were other magicks at work, Xuxa said. It is possible that not even Lord Woodbrand knew of the well. Not all of the trollkin were as devout as the ones who built and maintained the well.
True. When we get back to Waymoot, I'm going to mention the location of this well to some of the town criers, and to Woodbrand himself. [4]
Azmyth bats lived to be well in excess of one hundred years. Baylee had never gotten Xuxa to admit how old she really was. [6]
Baylee and Serellia and Golsway made a trip to the Lonely Moor two years ago?"
"Three years ago." Serellia smiled at the memory. "Even Golsway didn't think we were going to make it out of that one without becoming undead ourselves." 
the axe throwing contest. That's always been a favorite of his." [9]
"Golsway and I have faced a skeleton warrior The pain hit him again, muffled partly because he couldn't believe everything the watch lieutenant had told him. He'd have to see Golsway's body to believe it. "There was one we faced a few years back in Lathtarl's Lantern." [12]
He'd never had a love for spiders. Even during his earliest years when his tolerances were more forgiving, he'd never learned to like the eight-legged creatures. When he'd still been small, a giant spider in a dungeon Golsway had taken him to in Hluthvar had captured Baylee from the party and tied him up in its web before the old mage had found and freed him. [12]
Baylee reached under his tunic and touched the white star of worked silver and the green leaf that was the older known symbol of Mielikki [12]
Baylee felt drawn to it. The piece of jewelry was old, hundreds of years old. Sometimes when he touched something, he just knew. Most instances, when challenged to discover which was an actual artifact and which was a cleverly constructed replica, Baylee had picked the artifact every time. It wasn't just knowledge with him, and the aspect had fascinated even Fannt Golsway enough to attempt to find out how his young apprentice could be so accurate. No answers had presented themselves. It was a knack, Golsway had been forced to concur, just a small gift from Mystra, Lady of Mysteries, in fact as Golsway was wont to declare, maybe a small homage to her own title. [14]
Baylee said, "I'm sure I was born to a woman, but Fannt Golsway was the only parent I ever knew." [15]
"To be a worshiper is so simple," he said. "All you have to do is look around you. When you are taught where to look, you will see the Lady's work everywhere. Just as I see Mielikki's." Despite his first allegiance to the Lady of the Forests, he also owed a great deal to the teachings of Mystra. [15]
Stores his journals in Candlekeep since he was fourteen. "I have a friend there," Baylee said. "Brother Qinzl, who claims to entertain a certain vicarious thrill of exploration when he reads one of my journals." [15]
Baylee shook his head. "You have to think about the time period. During those years, Golsway was much more active than he has been of late. That was one of the things we argued over. I was still willing to go rushing after the vaguest whisper, while he was more content these days to look for a big strike. When he was younger, they were all big strikes, some just bigger than others. Those early journals detailed what members of the Explorer's Society deemed important finds." [15]
The Greycloak Hills were a known destination for adventuring bands.
"In years past," Baylee said, making a final adjustment to some of the papier mache pieces he'd fit together, "the Greycloak Hills were called the Tomb Hills. Tombs from the Fallen Kingdom were spread throughout those hills. Many valuable artifacts were found there. Golsway and I went on three major expeditions to the area. Never did we return empty-handed." [16]
"You believe that Golsway was interested in a new dig site in the Greycloak Hills?" Calebaan asked.
"No." The ranger pointed out identifying landmarks. "This is a very old one, one of the very first. More than a hundred years back, the exact year is open to some conjecture, an adventuring party under the leadership of Bulwgar Helmm journeyed there and discovered enough in treasure to help open the floodgates of tomb raiders that slipped into the area."
"You believe that Golsway discovered something that had been missed in the earlier excavation?" [16]
Then he spoke the command word he and Golsway had agreed upon years ago, the name of the foul-mannered donkey Baylee had had to ride down into the valley in the Storm Horn Mountains when the ranger had been only twelve. [17]
His secret bag of holding sends items to Candlekeep. "I've got a friend at Candlekeep. Innesdav, an acolyte there, gave me this bag when I was still a teen traveling with Golsway. He took the time during one of my visits there to read some of the journals Golsway had instructed me to fill at certain sites I'd had interests in. Innesdav liked my writing, told me I had a keen eye for putting information down on paper in a way that allowed people to sense it for themselves. He said the bag was a gift, and that I should use it to send him my journals as I filled them, or special papers that I wanted him to see." [22]
He opened his bag of holding and pulled out the leather armor inside. It was a full set of gnomish workman's leather armor, complete with a hood that fit snugly over his head. But this set of gnomish workman's leather armor had been built to fit Baylee precisely, allowing him access to the dozens of pockets and secret areas inside the armor. When he'd traveled with Golsway and found out about the armor that came complete with multitudinous pockets, he'd wanted a set. It had taken nearly a year for him to build a friendship with a party of gnomes who followed the explorer's way themselves. In the end, they'd made him the suit in return for help he'd given them. [24]
Waymoot
Beruintar's Bone Warmer (inn), has an alley behind it where a back door leads into the inn [1]
Ranger’s Way, a trail leading from the north into Waymoot [1]
Sacrificial Well
Seventeen miles north of Waymoot, six miles west of Ranger's Way, on a hilltop, Baylee is digging for treasure in an old abandoned well [1]
He had heard of the legend himself in Dhedluk while searching for another treasure altogether. Mention of the sacrificial well of Vaprak had been contained in a history of herbalist's lore the ranger had borrowed from a private library in the town to conduct research. The writer had been a native of Waymoot back in the days when the trollkin ruled the hills around that city, attacking caravans and travelers at their leisure. "One of the stories told was by a retired sergeant of the Purple Dragons," Jaeleen went on. "As a boy, he'd lived in Waymoot. Most of the stories he told were of course about Lord Filfar Woodbrand, the local legend." The woman leaned in closer and her cheek brushed against Baylee's bare shoulder. The touch of perspiration covered skin was electric. "He told the story of how Woodbrand killed all the marauding trollkin in the area five or six times before he ever mentioned the well. In their day, the trollkin were very successful. A number of caravans as well as private individuals were murdered by the trolls. Thrown into this very well."
"That's not all of the story," Baylee said. "This well was used as a sacrificial altar for Vaprak. He put a permanent spell of silence over the well to mask the screams of the dying from any passers-by. That's why you didn't hear the rock hit." [3]
Not all of the sacrifices were dead when they went into the well [3]
"Before Woodbrand ended the trollkin raids, the well had been in existence for decades." [3]
"You're talking about the dead Obarskyr kings that are purported to sleep somewhere beneath Waymoot." [3]
the Legend of the Sleeping Kings. If the day truly came that the Obarskyr kings were needed and did return from the dead, he felt certain they would return from some other place than Vaprak's sacrificial well. The power of the well hadn't been enough to conquer Woodbrand, or prevent the man from sealing it once he'd killed the trolls. [3]
The well bottomed out at nearly forty feet, opening into a final, wide chamber. Baylee stopped ten feet above the rough stone floor and peered around. He had left the bow above, feeling little room would exist to use the weapon. Instead, he was not able to see the sides of the chamber below.
Jaeleen impatiently kicked him in the head.
Baylee reached up and swatted her foot away. Grabbing the string attached to the lamp, he moved it around in a slowly widening circle. The lamplight burned evenly, trapped inside the glass walls.
The dark stone floor seemed to absorb the light except for tiny patches that appeared luminescent. Baylee recognized the green glowing patches as lichens. Presence of the lichens confirmed the occasional presence of water in the well.
The lamp swung nearly fifteen feet across in an elliptical arc. Broken bones and smashed skulls showed yellowed white in the lamplight. Estimating from the number of skulls he was able to see, Baylee knew dozens of people had been thrown into the well over the years. [3]
The chamber was at least ten feet tall, Baylee decided, and easily three times that in diameter. He took a small torch from his belt pouch and lit it with the flint and steel he had. The sparks ignited the torch and he breathed on it to encourage the flame. The thin, gray smoke curled up toward the open well above.
Holding his torch aloft and spotting the haphazard mound of bones and rotting clothing against the east wall, Baylee thought his companion might be right. Water could have carried the remains against the wall. Jaeleen's lamplight also set fire to the smooth, warm texture of gold within the tangle of ivory limbs.
She reached out and seized a skeletal arm. A worked gold bracelet with inlaid gemstones circled the wrist, loose now that the flesh had been stripped away.
Curious indentations in the bone as Jaeleen moved the limb attracted Baylee's attention. He moved closer, using his own torch. Upon closer inspection, he realized the indentations were teeth marks. [3]
In a few places, faded messages were scratched on the walls with the points of daggers or sharp rocks. Nearly all of the writings were pleas for help, or hopes that others would bury them decently. Some of them were prayers to a handful of deities. [3]
a gray coral mariner's good luck charm that looked like a hunk of broken rock no bigger than his thumb. It took closer inspection to see the symbol of Selune, the circle of seven stars surrounding two feminine eyes, carved into the coral. It was a delicate piece of work, worn by time and by rubbing so that the carving was barely visible. He judged it to be of Turmish origin, and a few characters—probably a prayer—on the back of the rock confirmed that it was from the Vilhon Reach, off the Sea of Fallen Stars. There was no apparent reason why a mariner would be in the area. The mystery intrigued him, and perhaps a historian would be able to place the time period by the writing on the back. [4]
"Seeds, Cuttings, and Transplants: A Gardener's Tome for All Seasons." The book was small, hardly bigger than his unfolded hand, surely no wider, not even as thick as his forefinger. He ran a finger down the straight spine, noting that the title was inked there, not put there in gilt or stitched. In its day, even though books were prizes, it would not have caused most people to take a second look. Which was exactly its purpose, Xuxa said. If there is a secret page spell placed upon this volume as the old herbalist's book recorded. And if that magicked page really contains the agreement by two Cormyrean nobles with the Zhentarim to arrange King Azoun's assassination in Waymoot, there could be some political upheaval when the news is released. [4]
Other Lore
Arabellan herb soap [1]
Iwann's herbologies. Baylee had only read the single volume he'd found that mentioned the book in the sacrificial well, but there had been a monograph on the man. [4]
the Glass Eye Concourse, Baylee promised. You know there will be more than enough to eat once we arrive there.
And we'll stay the duration?
Xuxa, this is a forgathering. Not only that, it's one of the biggest forgatherings of rangers in the year. Once it starts, it may not end for months. [6]
Dakilinan, lived in Lantan About a thousand years ago," the beautiful ranger went on. "He was an historian of some repute." "There are some who don't think highly of his work," Baylee supplied.
"Did he ever write of precious metals or gems?" Aymric asked. "Only in passing," Serellia said. "He was more concerned with peoples and countries. Particularly the sea-faring traders." "Dakilinan suggested that doves were taken aboard ships only because they were far easier to spot against the emerald expanse of the Trackless Sea and the blue sky. Trainability came in as a secondary reason. Domesticated doves were kept aboard ship and freed during different parts of the day. Wind directions were charted, as were ocean currents, anything that could offer a clue about an unexplored patch of sea."
"Your historian cites the people of Lantan as a race of explorers?" Aymric inquired.
Serellia smiled and shook her head. "Never for a moment. They were a race of traders, always looking for a new trade route, new countries with which to trade. Profit has always spurred every new discovery made in our world. Ask any explorer worth her salt if that isn't so. The first thing she'll tell you about is the difficulty in securing funds for an expedition. You have to meet with such small-minded people, and the things they're willing to search for are extremely limited."
"Exactly," Serellia nodded. "The sailors used them as scouts. When a bird returned well fed and rested hours after it had taken off, they knew they were close to land. But Dakilinan also suggests this is why the early races view doves as a symbol of peace."
"How so?" Aymric asked.
"The early explorers only went to trade," Serellia said. "The conquerors arrived later, after the way had been thoroughly mapped. The traders brought the doves, and they brought goods to trade. The would-be conquerors who went to rape and pillage didn't."
The Harpers are also interested in Fannt Golsway’s death (why????) [9]
One of the key points of Su'vann'k'tr of the House Fla'nvm's (drow house or elf house????) writings, was that liches often created brand new magic items and spells that no one had heard of before. Removed from the driving needs of the flesh, a lich instead obsessed on harnessing the mystical powers it could never achieve while remaining a living being. That it would create its own language was no surprise. [10]
He knew that the undead creature wasn't mindless. Far from it, skeleton warriors possessed cunning intelligence far above average. But they were bound by the drive to recover the circlets and become one with their souls again. That obsession weakened them once they were no longer in a controller's thrall. [13]
"He was a wild elf," Baylee stated, feeling certain about his conjecture. "You saw that the armor he wore was scant. Wild elves don't wear much armor." He touched his face along his jaw. "And there is the matter of the tattooing, which again indicates his heritage."
"Sy-Tel'Quessir," Aymric said. "And the god he cried out to was Solonor Thelandira, who watches over those attempting to survive in the wilderness. I did not understand everything, but the parts I did understand were quotes from Hunter's Blessing. That's the closest it translates to the human tongue."
"I've heard of it," Baylee said. "It's supposed to be one of the most ancient texts of Solonor Thelandira. From a discourse from a much longer work that has been lost to the Tel'Quessir." [14]
bearing the whirl of stars in an artificed hoop that were Mystra's newest symbol. [14]
"The elves from Evereska have taken over the lands of the Greycloak Hills of late," Calebaan said. "There is much speculation that they have discovered sources of magic, and perhaps even treasures, that have not yet been found."
"Everyone connected with this has displayed a vast resource of magic," Baylee said quietly.
Cordyan held her own counsel. The conclusions the ranger offered fit the circumstances. She looked into Baylee's jade green gaze. "It will take time to find the truth."
"Maybe more than you realize," Calebaan said. "The elves dwelling in the Greycloak Hills these days are very territorial." [16]
"That was when we found Tchazzar's scroll, which outlined how the smaller kingdoms of Chessenta united and what the trade agreements were supposed to be." "That scroll was supposed to have been writ in the blood of the men who agreed to it. And the man who could produce it would have controlled the lineage of those kingdoms and possibly been able to step into a ready-made country ripe for the taking. If the person seizing the scroll was a good enough mage."
Baylee nodded. The story had been told for decades since the fall of unified Chessenta. But Golsway had uncovered new knowledge that had led them on a merry chase to the scroll they recovered. It now resided in Candlekeep for security reasons. There were some who said that the ghosts of the men who'd signed the document could be summoned back from the beyond to wreak vengeance on the men who'd sundered the realm they'd put together.
"Did you ever discover if the scroll Golsway and I found was truly the Tchazzar Scroll?" the ranger asked.
"We checked as much as we were able. It certainly looks like it. But there is only one sure way to tell, and no one here is going to allow that to happen." [23]
Schyck Raveneyes?"
Calebaan crowded closer, bringing his light to bear as well. "Raveneyes was one of the lesser known elven heroes of myth and legend. Not much was written about him." "The story of Schyck Raveneyes." Baylee looked at the symbols again. "He was given eight tasks to do by Solonor Thelandira.
"That has to represent the firstborn child of Coronal Fhastey, who got some of the early families of the wild elves to agree to trading camps and fairs. Fhastey's son was kidnapped by a gang of rogues seeking to break some of the trade agreements. Raveneyes found the coronal's son and brought him back safely. But that was among the later stories."
"Raveneyes fought the Cloud of Kellagg first. He was fifteen years old. The cloud gathered in the cemetery of Notts Docks, a trading post on the River Ashaba even before Myth Drannor existed. It brought the dead up out of the ground, fulfilling an ancient curse."
"Raveneyes found the Gem of Despair and shattered it, ending the threat as I recall," Calebaan said.
Baylee nodded. "Fragments of that gem are supposed to still exist, giving limited control over those recently killed by violent means. Families, they say, can purchase the use of the gem and allow the dead to rise and avenge themselves."
"Then came the threat of the goblin pirates along the river."
The arrow designating the hunt for the unicorn burial ground, there to find components necessary to make a potion to save
Raveneyes's own daughter, came next. It was followed by the altar which represented the drow pocket of civilization Raveneyes had destroyed when those dark elves encroached too far into the forest. Thinking about the story, Baylee realized the drow could have come through these very caverns back then, and Glitterwing's own research into the legends could have helped him found Rainydale.
The ship followed after, representing Raveneyes's journey to the Moonshaes while seeking to find a scroll for a wizard who was favored of Solonor.
'The child," Calebaan said. "There was something about Raveneyes's rescue of the boy."
Baylee struggled to remember, then it came to him. "The shield!" He glanced at the wizard, seeking agreement.
Calebaan nodded. "The shield he had made from the scales of the red dragon, Ysolim."
The morkoth (what does it represent????) [26]
Jaeleen
Jaeleen was a warrior herself, trained in frontier woodcraft, though certainly not of ranger caliber. [1]
Her face was as he remembered it, triangular, with a short nose and a generous mouth. Her yellow-gold hair blazed under the hooded brown cloak. The homespun clothing masked some of the generous curves of her body, but couldn't hide the fact that she was all female.
She held the hand crossbow in her gloved right hand [1]
Jaeleen was deadly with her little crossbow, and even more deadly when a man came within embrace of any of the small knives she kept secreted on her person. [1]
Tymora, my chosen goddess [2]
Tarig Phylsnan, associate of Jaeleen [2]
Yarik’s Lamp. a compact oil lamp hardly bigger than her palm. It had six sides and seemed to be constructed more of glass than of worked metal. The glass sides held tiny etched figures of silhouette dancers. She spoke a quiet word Baylee could not catch. Obediently, the lamp's wick ignited. A warm glow grew from the lamp [3]
When he had been younger, still protectively under Fannt Golsway's wing, to listen to her talk of the places she'd been, the things she'd seen, had seemed the pinnacle of achievement any young man with adventuring on his mind could hope for. He'd heard the tales of others, men with the same drive as Jaeleen, but Jaeleen had been hardly more than a girl then. Already in those days she'd seen more than he thought he ever would, and she'd done so many incredible things. Her education was self-made and very thorough. Golsway himself had said she could teach archeology at any of a number of universities. Except that Jaeleen never got past the greed that so tainted the profession. [4]
King’s Forest
The forest held a number of feline predators, including leopards. [2]
Suzail
The necklace disappeared into one of Jaeleen's hidden pockets. "Do you know how much Algan One-Thumb will give you for something like this down in Suzail?" "Do you remember how Algan became known as 'One-Thumb?' He was a butcher who always tilted the scales in his own favor when no one was looking. Till someone did look, and removed that thumb for him."
"He has a fat purse."
"And a way of keeping it that way," Baylee agreed. Algan was known among the explorers and adventurers who brought back whatever booty they could from their expeditions. The moneylender was even good for an occasional loan to some who were willing to ferret out the truth of a rumor he'd chanced upon. [4]
Waterdeep
Thonsyl Keraqt shifted uncomfortably in the plush chair on the other side of the crystal table. He was a broad man gone to fat with his successes. His robe appeared voluminous, cut of lightweight blue and white silks. His round face beaded with perspiration in spite of the cooling breeze. Long red hair striped with gray hung to his shoulders, echoed in the short beard. Associate of Fannt Golsway, his best friend in all of Waterdeep. A merchant. Slain by the drow priestess and Golsway’s house [5,6]
Fannt Golsway's home. The balcony was festooned with a dozen different flowering boxes. The sweet aroma of the moon blossoms circumvented the wind blowing over the Sea Ward of Waterdeep from the Dock Ward. [5]
Vlumir." Keraqt nodded. "Easily the best historian that can be had for a gallon of cheap wine." Vlumir at one time had been among the most learned men in the Heartlands, maybe in all of Toril. But he had lost the use of his legs on an expedition while still a young man. Over a handful of years he'd fallen into drinking heavily, telling stories culled from legends and literature for a few coppers to keep himself drunk. Half elf [5]
Captain Tirdan Closl surveyed the wreckage inside Fannt Golsway's study, seeking to understand everything that had happened inside the house. He was a tall man, and broad, slower now in his mid-fifties than he had been as a younger man. His dark hair and beard were well kept by his wife, but he had a habit of pulling at it while he thought. He was a senior civilar of the watch in Waterdeep, his leather armor strengthened with chain bearing the green, black, and gold that marked his station. He fisted the pommel of his short sword. The watch senior civilar had been born a farm lad, brought to Waterdeep for a time to sail with the trading ships and see bits and pieces of the world, and had been with the watch for his last twelve years. I've a nephew who is a ranger. Young Varin has regaled us from time to time with tales of forgatherings. Festivals of a sort where rangers meet to discuss their trade and sharpen their skills. In a few days hence, the Glass Eye Concourse, one of the biggest of such meetings, is going to be held. [6]
Daike, a young guard in the Watch [6]
Qhyst, cook for Fannt Golsway. She was a short woman, surprisingly comely for one who chose to work out of sight of most people in a wizard's home. Her dress was homespun, a pale green that set off her dark good looks. Her hands were weathered and red, the hands of a farmer's wife. It was my routine to set the master's table for him, then go home myself. I have three children, you see. The master was very generous with his time." "I understand that I am also told that you were paid even for those days that Golsway was not at home. The woman nodded. "As I said, Senior Civilar Closl, the master was a very generous man." [6]
Hazra, a watch member trained as a physician. [6]
Mintrivn, who was wise in the ways of magic. [6]
Oryan, member of the Watch [6]
Piergeiron, Warden of the Guard, Commander of the Watch, Overmaster of the Guilds, and Open Lord of Waterdeep. Piergeiron shook his head. "I knew that from the moment I found out it was Golsway who was killed. I knew that man as one of my teachers, as hard a taskmaster as a man would ever want to meet." [6]
It was no secret that the Watch extended their reach from the city upon occasion, but coming to the forgathering near Hillsfar was the farthest she had ever heard of. [9]
Calebaan Lahjir nodded. He was a watch wizard assigned by Closl to Cordyan's unit. As such, they shared a joint command over the watch team, which irked Cordyan. A tall, thin man with a short, clipped, graying beard fell into step beside her. He kept his hands clasped behind his back. He wore robes and a pointed skullcap that marked him as a wizard before he worked one spell. They'd worked together off and on for years. When she had worked some of her first investigations in Waterdeep that had involved wizardry, Calebaan had tutored her and given her time that he hadn't had to. [9]
Copert's Conquest, the ship they (Cordyan and the watch) had taken from the other end of the dimensional gate, had tied up at the docks just after midnight last night, [16]
"There's a tavern down along the wharf in the dock ward," Baylee said, "called the Emerald Lantern. If he still works there, a cook named Tau Grimsby will set a plate showcasing the best from the sea and from the fields, along with an assortment of steamed vegetables and sauteed mushrooms, for only a few silvers. [16]
"All right. In the north ward, you'll find a mapmaker," Baylee said. "His name is Yassit Daggle. For a price, you can persuade him to come here with his topographical maps and confirm what I'm showing you. This section of the Greycloak Hills is quite distinctive to someone who's been there." [16]
Sea Ward. Only two more streets in front of him, he spotted Hakamme's blacksmith shop. Hakamme also had horses and a full kit, for a price. [16]
Nalkie's Ale and Bitters. Nalkie's was down in the dock ward, and fully half of the building hung out over Waterdeep Harbor. With space around the dock area being at a premium, old Nalkie had been offered several times what the building and the business were worth over the years, but had repeatedly declined to sell. Part of it was because he enjoyed the men his establishment brought in, usually sea-faring men and adventurers.
The other part was because men like Fannt Golsway chipped in with an annual stipend to make running the business more worthwhile. Men who were going to get things done without being in the public eye needed a place where they could meet men who dwelt in shadows. No one knew exactly how much Nalkie brought in on an average year. To hear Nalkie tell it, though, every year he'd just missed ending up in the Lords' Court for not paying his taxes. The road in front of the tavern was narrow and treacherous. Stores fronted each other in a horseshoe bend. A pocket of trees separated Nalkie's from a clothier's next to it, and the trees reached all the way down the hillside to the ocean. The tide had worn the rocks smooth over the years, creating distinct borders within the stone.
A fountain occupied the center of the horseshoe space. Baylee knew none of the original work orders for the fountain remained; nothing that would tie Fannt Golsway's name to the building of the fountain.
Huge and round, it depended on pressured aqueducts from the groundwater from the heart of Waterdeep to keep the merry splashes dancing in the sunlight. The statue of a zaratan filled the center of the fountain amid the spraying water. On a much smaller scale than the giant turtle, the statue still held an island on its back, the peaks of the mountains reaching up. With a feeling of trepidation, Baylee counted three stones down from the lip of the fountain. The one he selected didn't look any different than any of the others. He pressed inward, but the stone didn't move. For a moment, he thought that he'd been wrong, that Golsway had sealed the hiding spot and that the last words he'd remember with the old mage would be ones spoken in anger.
Then the stone sunk in a few inches with a smooth click like bones rubbing against each other.
Placing his fingers against the surface, Baylee pressed and twisted, and the stone slid even further back. He reached down into the hollow and brought up a small metal flask that had an ornate stopper. The flask was almost circular in shape, slightly smaller than his closed fist, covered with intricate runes.
He drew his hand out, then pressed against the stone twice. The stone clicked into place.
Holding the flask, he ran his finger against the surface. There was no dust. It had been placed there recently.
Wood dominated the decor, but none of it was fancy or showed an artful hand. The floor fit together neatly, but did not have a shine. The tables held carved initials as well as burn marks from pipes. Lanterns hung over the table, but they were brass functionals with stubby candles instead of oil. In spite of Nalkie's spendthrift ways, the larder was well provisioned and all of his cooks knew their way around the kitchen. [16,17]
Zyzyll and Tweent. They were dopplegangers, young by their standards, but still used to killing others to use for their identities. The faces they wore now belonged to two sailors they'd found late last night while stumbling back to their ship after a trip down the Street of Red Lanterns. Both wore dock clothing and carried a multitude of daggers. Zyzll carried a cutlass and Tweent carried a boat hook. Paid to kill Baylee by Krystarn [17]
Madonld, Golsway's law-reader. "The spell I had placed upon this ball's tracking abilities let me know as soon as one of your lackeys had found the ranger."
Krystarn had not known such a spell was possible. Scrying usually only entailed looking for, or at, a subject by the viewer, not having the ball do the work. Even more astounding was Shallowsoul's claim that the ball could track more than one subject. She had employed nearly two dozen spies to search for Baylee Arnvold. a bag of holding he carried. [17,18]
They sat in the back of a pipeweed shop near the dock area. A few silver pieces had purchased the room for an hour. A number of shops fronting the wharf area had the same business practices. A number of "trade" agreements had to be reviewed, as well as any bribes paid that needed paying. The room was small, having only a circular table and three spindly chairs. Candles in wall sconces lit the room and filled the air with the odor of burning wax. [18]
Kerrijan's Hammer. "The maritime office here in Waterdeep says she's a regular traveler between Waterdeep and the Moonshae Isles. She's a cargo ship with contracts between businesses on both sides of the sea."
"What is her usual anchorage in the Moonshaes?"
"At Caer Callidyrr." [19]
Westalfe Sternrudder replied. The dwarf captain stood beside Cordyan on the specially built box in the prow of his ship that gave him a higher perspective than his short size would normally have provided. He was thick-bodied and able, with a square-cut black beard and a weathered, pinched face. "And we lay fallow for two days early on in this venture, as I'm sure you recall, while waiting for the winds to become more favorable. There was every chance that Kerrijan's Hammer wasn't so encumbered by fate." He patted the railing of the ship with genuine affection. "Tsunami Dancer is a proud ship. She'll do fine by you in the end. You'll see." [19]
Hammal, Watch sergeant [20]
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
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Posted - 13 Mar 2023 : 09:25:19
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Cordyan Tsald
Junior Civilar Cordyan Tsald, member of the Watch. Five and a half feet tall and slender, not having seen twenty-five winters yet, she carried herself well. Her chestnut colored hair ended at her shoulders and flipped in toward her neck, a proud mane that caught the firelight and burned copper. Her traveling leathers were worn but serviceable. She wore riding leathers over her breeches, and left her arms bare with the patched leather tunic. Her boots had low-cut heels so she could navigate broken terrain better. Her left hand closed automatically around the long sword at her side to hold it in place. Secreted in a number of pouches throughout all her traveling clothes, she carried a number of leaf-bladed darts. Dagger handles thrust up from her boots.
she touched the Harper pin hidden by her tunic (Harper Agent????). [9]
Lieutenant [11]
She had worked the night patrol in Waterdeep long enough. [11]
Then she felt the chill, like a high wind coming across Icewind Dale. The sensation came to her sharply, bringing with it the memory of two tendays the circus had spent playing Ten Towns when she'd been yet a girl, not then allowed to swing from the high wires with her brothers and sister. [9,11]
She stood and loosened her sword in its sheath. The copper and gold Shandaularan coin mounted in the hilt sparked a yellow light and felt warm to the touch. The sword was the watch lieutenant's as a reward from Khelben Arunsun for work she had done as a Harper while she was sixteen years old. The sword, Khelben had assured her, came from the renowned collection of Azoun, King of Cormyr for a bit of business the archmage had performed for the king.
The enchantment on the blade made it move lightly in her grasp, and it cleaved more surely through armor than any edged weapon she had ever owned. But the Shandaularan coin had an even further enchantment laid upon it. In the presence of drow, the coin would spark yellow.
Cordyan knew the enchantment was true because she'd seen it spark twice before. Both times, drow had been around. Once, the sword's warning had been enough to save her from a drow down in the warrens under the Waterdhavian docks. [11]
Blue sparks jumped from her blade's edge every time contact was made. [12]
Parents are dead, "It happened some time ago," Cordyan said. "An accident." [15]
"You follow the teachings of Mystra?"
"I am an interested observer, but not a passionate worshiper. Not yet [15]
Cordyan Tsald glanced at Piergeiron, who stood in the wreckage of Fannt Golsway's house beside her. She had seen the Commander of the Watch on a number of occasions, and talked with him at times as well, but he still made her feel like a green recruit. [16]
Fannt Golsway
With his home base of operations in Waterdeep, he had never allowed many into his home. He neither needed their pandering or their questions. Usually there were too many maps and books and little-known documents scattered throughout every room and on every conceivable surface to permit anyone to come visiting. As a result, usually the old mage went calling, or a meeting took place in an agreed-upon tavern or inn.
Despite his years, Golsway remained a lean, tall man. Age had not stooped his back yet, nor robbed him of his vigor. His silver hair lay forward on his scalp, coming down to a widow's peak, cropped close in a military-styled cut. He wore a goatee that scarcely covered his chin, then tucked neatly under to come to a point. His ears lay back against the sides of his head, though the right one had a notch bitten out of it. He had never had the wound properly tended to in order that it might be made to look more presentable. He chose to wear it to remind him that he was not infallible. His hooded eyes and narrow face made him resemble a hunting falcon to a degree that he could never deny. He wore a brilliant red robe with a field of stars that announced his fealty to Mystra. [5]
Though in recent years, the merchant's tastes had changed. He had enough money and riches now to be more discerning about what he did with objects that came within his grasp. Many times Golsway had learned that Keraqt had taken less of a profit from some items to place them in the proper hands rather than break them up. It was one of the things that had convinced the old mage to open up his friendship more than it had been. [5]
"A tall man, and thick of neck and shoulder." Keraqt touched his brow with his fingers. "There was a livid red scar, bright as fresh spilled blood here. I don't know what kind of weapon would have made a mark such as that."
"Where is this man?"
"I don't know. I sent two of my best men after him when I heard mention that he was seeking you. They were dead by noon, and no one has seen this man since."
"Why was this man in the Dock Ward?"
"Asking after you, my friend."
Golsway considered the answer. No more than a handful of people knew about the package he'd received. Only two knew the name of Faimcir Glitterwing. "And did someone direct him my way?" The mage knew there was a slim chance that the man could not have found the way to his home. He was well known in Waterdeep, but not many knew where he lived. His closest friends were ones he'd made in other lands, on other adventures. None of those would have come without an invitation.
"I could not tell you," Keraqt answered. "But I can tell you the man is no longer on the streets of this city. I can't even find his shadow."
"Maybe he left."
"After killing two of my best sellswords?" Keraqt shook his head. "You are not fool enough to believe that even for the time it takes to say it." [5]
Gulzindar Street where he lived in lower Sea Ward. His house was not so grand as it was carefully placed. To the north, the spire of the temple of Mystra burned like a star as moonlight caressed the beaten silver. He also spotted the lights from Piergeiron's Palace and the Field of Triumph.
Suddenly, for the first time since he'd inherited the house almost forty years ago, Golsway felt vulnerable there [5]
None of the business he currently dealt in had anything to do with the drow. He had stayed clear of the Underdark for most of his career. The dark elves had more lies than truth, and absolutely no honor. To enter the Underdark was to walk with death itself. [6]
His staff was in his study on the third floor. [6]
He activated the ring on his right hand and rose into the air, flying quickly. [6]
The staff was seven feet long, of thick gnarled pecan that held a dark luster. Iron caps covered either end of it. He turned, feeling more confident. The staff was one of thunder and lightning and surely held enough power to handle the drow. [6]
Slain by the drow [6]
In most circles, Golsway had been known as a very hard and demanding man. His research, when presented, was flawless. His lessons, when executed, were poetry. [6]
"The estate?" Baylee looked at her, clearly puzzled.
"Yes. He had his will filed with a law-reader. The house and the surrounding grounds in Waterdeep are all yours. Most of his other belongings as well, except for a few items that are to be disbursed among other friends." [11]
'Vi.'"
"That's not a name," Baylee said. With the understanding came a return to the sharp hurt he'd first experienced when he'd heard of Golsway's death, but it was also a bit of a balm. "Those are Golsway's notations, not a signature. He drew the picture." [15]
Golsway didn’t keep his journals in Candlekeep. Golsway didn't want to chance a loss of the information we've discovered. If Candlekeep burned down, which won't happen because the magic wards within it prevent paper catching fire within their walls, then both sets of our works wouldn't be lost." [15]
Piergeiron shook his head. "That is all Golsway's doing. The old mage had a certain way of looking at social responsibility."
"Such as waiting until he was finished thinking over whatever he wanted to think over, then deciding what the best course of action was? For everyone involved."
"Exactly. Golsway was never one to be an oarsman, unless he was pulling his own boat." Piergeiron shifted irritably, anxious to be on with other things. [16]
Bad Guys
A man stood on the balcony. He was tall and broad, and bore the scarlet scar Keraqt had spoken of. His dress was rough but the leather armor was serviceable. Cold gray eyes blazed under square-cut bangs. [5]
Krystarn Fellhammer
Krystarn Fellhammer. The drow walked toward Golsway, a spiked morning star naked in her fist. A mocking smile played on her lips. She wore a piwafwi, a magical shielding cloak, and wore a white sheer silk half-shirt and matching girdle that stood out sharply against her ebony skin. A holstered hand crossbow hung at her left hip in a cross draw, leaving her right side free for the morning star. Her white hair was cropped close enough to leave no curl at all. The iris of her eyes were so pale as to possess no color at all. [6, 7]
"Who sent you?" Golsway demanded. He held the staff before him. Power radiated in the wood. The woman had to be able to see it if she was the kind of mage he thought she was. Still, she gave no pause to the threat that he offered.
"One whom you would steal from." The drow glanced around the room, spotting the table where Golsway's latest interest lay. "You've been prying into affairs that are none of your concern." [6]
The teleport spell on the gem she'd been given had not worked as completely as she'd been told it would, or Shallowsoul had deliberately lied to her about where she would return in the subterranean lairs. [7]
Having been raised in Menzoberranzan for the first forty-three years of her life, where a dozen acts of treachery could be committed before morningfeast—sometimes within her own family—being lied to came as no surprise. It only meant that even with the recent turn of events she hadn't maneuvered herself into the bargaining position she'd planned to with Shallowsoul. [7]
Turning, she reached into the bag of holding at her waist and took out a pair of climbing claws that would cling to the rock better than her hands would. She put another set on, strapping them on over her boots. [7]
She knew Shallowsoul couldn't have been hoping to get her lost. In the four years she'd been down in the caverns with Shallowsoul, she'd explored much of the surrounding territory. She knew her way around the areas here. So she wondered what Shallowsoul's intentions might have been. Second-guessing someone skilled in treachery was second nature to the drow, but Shallowsoul's psychology added in the mercurial element of madness and paranoia. It was frustrating that one who had so much of what she wanted also came so powerful. [7]
"I am Krystarn Fellhammer of the House Ta'Lon't, loyal servant of Lloth, the Spider Queen!" [7]
She longed to be in bed in the suite of rooms she'd claimed for herself in the underground ruins Shallowsoul managed. [7]
The last four years spent with Folgrim Shallowsoul had been unsettling to say the least. But her obedience in the matter had been demanded by Lloth. The Spider Queen demanded harsh sacrifices for the rewards that she offered.
Krystarn turned her steps back toward the underground keep Shallowsoul had erected from the ruins. According to Shallowsoul, much remained to be done to undo the damage Golsway had managed. [7]
The telepathic touch of Folgrim Shallowsoul made her cringe inside. [10]
Twenty-two drow males had followed her from Menzoberranzan, their lives pledged to her task, accepting that she had been placed upon her quest by Lloth, Queen of the Demonweb Pits, herself. So far, only two of her warriors had died in the tunnels surrounding the library's hiding place [10]
Captain V'nk'itn responded. "We shall stand steady."
Krystarn knew that the male drow wouldn't stand there out of loyalty, but out of fear of her vengeance if they failed. When she had taken them, she had tied their blood to hers; if they fled, she could follow. Slain by Krystarn [10]
As always, the room she appeared in was not one she had been in before. Her heart stilled in her chest as she gazed around at the shelves of books that occupied all four walls and stood in stacks in the center of the large room.
This was what she lusted for, what she had promised Mother Lloth her direct obedience forever after in exchange for her success. A stack of books stood so close to her that she could reach out and touch them if she but moved her arm. But she didn't, because she knew to do so would mean instant death. Shallowsoul allowed no one to touch the books. [10]
Krystarn had seen a skeleton warrior only once before in her life, before it had ripped out the throat of the woman she had been tomb raiding with at the time. She had barely escaped with her life. The experience had left its mark upon her, and she found she had to fight to retain her calm. [12]
Sergeant Rr't'frn [14]
Under Rainydale
All around her were the dead of Myth Drannor. Some of them had been buried by the cataclysmic forces that had brought the City of Songs down so many years ago. Others had been hauled underground by the remnants of the Army of Darkness that had overwhelmed Myth Drannor. Gnolls and hook horrors and other flesh-eaters had joined up in the forces that had ripped the city to shreds.
Not many knew of the wide-spread system of pocket caverns that existed under the grounds where Myth Drannor and other cities had been. The ones that did know of the subterranean areas were not aware of the connecting tunnels that were often times disguised by corrupted and diseased bits of the mythal that had been laid to protect the city. The left-over magic forces these days were fickle things, choosing when and how to work, and often on whom. [7]
Nevft Scoontiphp. The being drew himself up to his full height. Obviously of elven blood, he wore raiment fit for a king. He looked far too pale to be healthy, even for a Moon Elf. "You know very well I am no ghost," he declared haughtily. "I am a baelnorn, sworn and loyal protector of my family's wealth and power." "Then allow me to pass in peace, ghost. I know that you won't offer me any harm as long as I don't try to unlock your family's crypts or the secrets they left hidden behind when they fled before the
a hobgoblin male challenged. The dark gray hair covering the exposed parts of its body bristled. Its blue nose wrinkled in distaste, pulling at a ragged wound along its right temple. The naked length of a short sword reflected firelight in its right hand, and a coiled whip shook loose in its left, black leather slithering across the rock. "This place is claimed by the Sumalich Tribe!"
Krystarn almost laughed at the petty arrogance of the hobgoblin. "Who are you to address me in such a threatening manner?"
The hobgoblin stretched to its full height of nearly seven feet, taking a deep breath to throw out its chest. "I am Chomack, Taker of Dragon's Teeth, chief of the Sumalich!"
"There is an accounting of vengeance that must be made against the Ulnathr Tribe. They attacked our tribe from behind while we battled a band of troglodytes that had moved into our homeland and started eating us. Caught between the troglodytes and the Ulnathr Tribe, most of us were left for dead. We traveled deeper into these ruins. The coward-chieftain of the Ulnathr will not come here because of the wild magic." [7,10]
"I've found what has to be the hidden door," Baylee said. "But there's writing on it." Finished cleaning the letters, he raised the lantern and translated aloud." 'For he who would seek the knowledge contained beyond this portal, let him first acknowledge his right to such passage with the trinity of truth.'"
"Is there anything else?"
Baylee examined the wall beside the stone. "A series of gems inset in the stone. They have pictographs above them. Religious symbols. I recognize them all." His finger traced the crescent moon. "Corellon Larethian." Next came a bird silhouetted on a cloud. "Aerdrie Faenya." Followed by a star with asymmetric rays. "Erevan Ilesere." And a heart. "Hanali Celanil." And a setting sun. "Labelas Enoreth." A great oak. "Rillifane Rallathil." And, finally, a silver arrow. "And Solonor Thelandira." "And you are supposed to pick three of the seven present, "Corellon Larethian, of course, because all the elves set him above the others." Labelas Enoreth has to be the second choice. Xuxa hung on the well wall nearby, her wings wrapped around herself. He was considered to be the teacher of the elves. The philosopher, as well as the ideal of elven thought and superiority over other races. A memory flooded into Baylee's mind as he touched the first two gems. Remember when we were attacked by the skeleton warriors? One of them got down on his knees and prayed. He gazed at the fletched arrow pictograph. And it was to Solonor Thelandira, not Rillifane.
You're assuming those skeleton warriors once knew Glitterwing, and that they shared religious beliefs.
They were also elves, someone who Glitterwing could have forced into servitude as skeleton warriors. If he was desperate, maybe he would have used his own people. [24]
A straight shaft, carefully mortised in to make smooth surfaces along the sides, led back. It was a crawl space only, not large enough for him even to squat and walk through.
Xuxa fluttered in front of him, a smaller target and fully able to see in the dark with her infravision.
Baylee pulled himself through after her. Behind him, Cordyan was ordering men down into the well. The ranger crawled perhaps thirty feet before the tunnel suddenly ended and opened up onto a large cavern. He walked forward, looking at the crush of houses and buildings that had been flattened beneath the surface of the ruins. The ground had grown soft over the years, drawing the remains of the structures deep into the tunnels below.
The tunnels looked dwarven in nature, and Baylee thought the elves might have built Rainydale over an old dwarven mining city to use the underground storage areas for their fruits and vegetables. And, as a military man, Glitterwing would have wanted it as a more defensible position.
He consulted the map as Xuxa clung to the wall nearby. The cavern was shown on the map, but it held a different shape than it did now. [25]
Folgrim Shallowsoul is trying to destroy the Lost Library (causing earthquakes but actually trying to shift the library elsewhere). "He failed to stop them," the baelnorn said. "He never intended for the map Skyreach had among her things to reach humankind. He was supposed to hold the library here until a suitable heir could be found."
"An heir?"
The baelnorn nodded. "In his mortal life, he was the caretaker of the library, hand-picked by Glitterwing himself, and transformed into the lich by Glitterwing as well. Haven't you learned anything in these years you've been among us?"
"There is no heir." Krystarn ignored the creature and started her men moving down the trail again. "And the way through the well will be blocked once we kill all the humans who have invaded these caverns. I can't believe Shallowsoul hadn't already blocked the way."
"He was charged not to. And after awhile, I'm sure he forgot it was even there. His mind is not what it once was." [25]
The trail continued to wind down deeper into the earth. At times it picked up even older tunnels than the ones they had traveled through from the well, telling Baylee that Glitterwing's library had been laid where much of the work had already been done.
From the tailings he'd found in several of the areas, he now knew the system of underground caverns had been a mining operation for metals. In a few places, he'd even found iron railings where mine carts had been. A few of the mine carts were even in the corners of some caverns. [25]
"The map shows that the trail runs west," Baylee responded. "But this crypt wasn't shown."
"It sank from above," Cordyan said. [26]
He calls himself Folgrim Shallowsoul these days. His mortal name is long forgotten, even by himself, I believe. [26]
"It's a dimensional door," Cthulad said. "But where does it go?" "To the library, of course. [26]
He seeks to move the library, to shift from this plane into the astral plane itself. There, amid the floating rocks and bodies of dead gods, he feels he will be safe from any more interlopers. And there will be less chance of anyone coming to take the library. If he succeeds, the vacuum left by the library's absence will be horrendous. Perhaps all of the underground will be destroyed. The library is very big." [26]
Glass Eye Concourse
the noise and imagery that were constants at any ranger forgathering. Long wooden tables hewed by axes from trees felled only two days ago occupied space under leafy awnings around the clearing.
Most of the activity remained around these tables. Stories were told there during all hours of the day. Amid the lies and boasts lounged half-truths that could save a man's life one day. Above all, though, it was entertainment that many of the ranger breed would never have except at a forgathering.
At other tables, bartering and competitions were held amid dozens of crafts. And there was song. Songs of humor, songs of bravery, songs of great sadness, and songs of legend. Some of those songs were quietly strummed, while others were given a boisterous voice.
The Glass Eye Concourse happened only once a year.
he'd traveled north again to Hillsfar on the Moonsea, then up to the forgathering area. The Dragonspine Mountains to the north
Aymric Tailpuller, a falconer without equal, his birds are among the best in all of the Heartlands. Tall and thin, the falconer enjoyed the slim good looks of youth and the vigor of the Moon elven bloodline. He wore his long blue hair in a single braid that ran down to his narrow hips when he let it loose. Deep blue eyes emphasized the paleness of his face and the sharp planes of his features. His leather armor showed the advantages of great care and considerable attention. A well-used bastard sword with a runed handle stuck up over one shoulder. Ranger. Lived in Lantan at one point. "And my father gave me my falchion and this dagger." Aymric brandished the two weapons. "Both had been in his family for generations, and both carry magic. [8,12]
Filston, ranger
Vaggit sat on a limb ten feet above the ground, resting on the soles of his bare feet with his arms wrapped around his knees. An audience of forty and more men and women, young and old, had already gathered for the telling. Baylee knew the forest runner had only just begun the lengthy telling because Vaggit wasn't yet pacing along the thick branch like a stage orator from a house of arts in Waterdeep or other civilized areas.
Short and scrawny, looking near to flesh leaned out over bone, the forest runner wore gray and green splashed garments that blended in with the night and his chosen environment. His leather armor stayed supple and loose, moving without a sound. In his profession as heckler of the aristocratic greedy in and around Zhentil Keep, moving quietly was a necessity. His gray hair and long gray beard testified to the experience he had, and the scars and way he carried himself spoke of the skills he'd learned. A long bow occupied a space beside him on the branch, an arrow resting at the ready on the bowstring. "The old scoundrel has had a good year from all accounts I've heard," Aymric whispered at Baylee's side. "He's emptied the purses of several Zhentil nobles in his pursuit of justice in his woods, then spread the wealth back among the people those nobles robbed under the statutes of the law. Though why he didn't keep enough for a good set of clothes to wear to the concourse this year is beyond me."
Baylee smiled. He respected and admired the old forest runner. "If Vaggit cared about material possessions, he'd never be the man he is. Should he have wanted a new suit of clothes, I'm sure one of the lonely ladies around Zhentil Keep who think so highly of him would have made a set for him just for the asking."
"To hear him tell it, mayhap."
"I've been in Zhentil Keep," Baylee said. "The people there who struggle against the tyrants talk well of Vaggit."
Aymric waved the comment away. "I meant no disparaging remark, old friend. In truth, the matter I was referring to was how many of the children in those homes that Vaggit himself might have fathered during his adventures. You forget, I'm older than you are. I remember Vaggit when he was your age."
Baylee smiled at the thought. Of all the rangers gathered at the concourse, old Vaggit indeed did have the least problem finding someone to care for his tent and precious few belongings.
Serellia Oparyan, and explorer. The woman came into Baylee's arms with a flurry of leather. She was as tall as he, her garments crafted of purple-dyed leather, and her raven's-wing black hair cut short around her face. The one-piece skirt/tunic allowed a view of generous cleavage and an expanse of toned, healthy thigh. A short sword hung upside down from her back in a quick release sheath. there was the matter of a certain Red Wizard of Thay who'd sent a dozen or so sellswords after you to return a bauble you stole from him." "They gave up, After I killed three of them in their sleep, over the course of five days. Serellia was a student of Golsway's before Baylee." That's why it could never work, Baylee chided Xuxa. In truth, Serellia had been Golsway's first chosen, the best and the brightest of the pupils he sometimes apprenticed in order to ferret out a new associate for his expeditions. In the end, the old mage had selected Baylee over Serellia, but no explanations were offered. The event had left both of them wondering. Though Serellia apparently had no ill will toward either Golsway or Baylee, the ranger recognized that both of them were uncomfortable with the situation. "My sword has been blessed by the Lady herself," Serellia said, her weapon in hand. [8,12]
old Karg the Thunderer. Karg was a massive man, shoulders a full axe handle and more across. His arms were as thick as most men's thighs, and his thighs were strong enough to lift a table often men over his head. Baylee had also seen him crush small rocks in his callused bare hands, dropping nuggets and dust to the ground. The head of a huge, double-bitted dwarven axe poked up over his shoulders, incredibly nearly as wide across as his shoulders. "There's a few less stone giants roving these lands than there were last year, thank the Lady. I trust you've had an eventful year."
"I've had better," Baylee replied, curious about why Karg would seek him out. Usually they only talked in groups. Giant killers were notorious boasters, and at best only made good company for a limited time. He held the dwarven double-bitted axe in his hands. "Me, I'll trust this axe of mine. She's got a bit of magic in her that's stood me in good stead over the years." [8,12]
"Interlopers," the giant killer snorted. "We end up getting a few of them every year. Usually give 'em the bum's rush if they start interfering with the festivities. Most of them pretend to be rangers, but they've never really had the calling. Or the talent. But we've a group here now that's downright interesting."
Tryklyss. Known as the Quick-Handed. "Of course, he doesn't do any stealing here
the axe throwing contest. [9]
Rasnip [9]
Turloc, young ranger [9]
Myndhl. He's in charge of security this year, you know."
Baylee did know. Myndhl was a forest runner like Vaggit, and several areas in the Dalelands named Myndhl as an outlaw. His largesse didn't necessarily stem from the coffers of Zhentil Keep as Vaggit's did. Many times over the years, Myndhl's victims had included the wealthier houses around the Dalelands whose only crime was success. As such a wanted person, Myndhl's security systems were elaborate. [11]
Carceus Ravnei was a traveling cleric in the service of Gond Wonderbringer. He enjoyed friendships with a number of rangers due to his wandering travels trying to increase the number of followers of Gond in the Dalelands. His invisibility was due to some enchanted item that no one had quite nailed down over the years. The cleric had his secrets. [11]
A woman in priest's robes ran toward the undead warriors. She lifted her staff and drove the bottom into the ground. The holy symbol at the top glowed a lambent orange as she stood her ground.
"It's Vithyr!". Priestess of Mystra [12,14]
Seventeen rangers had fallen in the battle, as well as three druids, and a priest in the service of Mystra. Twenty-nine people still occupied tents, too wounded to attend the service. Bandages draped others as they knelt in the clearing. Myriad other prayers to as many other gods followed on the heels of the priest's invocation. [14]
Civva Cthulad, old ranger a justifier. Veteran of dozens of campaigns spread out virtually across all of Toril, Cthulad stood ramrod straight. His chain mail armor, still not removed from the fight during the evening, held dark spots of dried blood. His face carried lines as well as scars. His hair was gray and the dirty yellow color of old bone. Blue eyes rested on either side of the hawk's nose. A fierce mustache ran down either side of his mouth. Cthulad was one of the most seasoned in battle. My mentor was killed when I wasn't much younger than you are now. Hector Glayne was a brave, fierce man. As a warrior, I'd seen him clear rooms, just him and that axe he carried everywhere he went. He was attacked and killed from behind by two men he considered to be friendly to his cause, if not friends indeed. It took me three years to find them and bring them to justice for his murder." "I am Civva Cthulad, justifier, a known warrior and general of armies. "I have heard of you, Justifier, but usually you are with an army in one nation or the other of the Dalelands. Civva Cthulad wore a full suit of elven chain mail that burned bright in the morning sun. [14,20,24]
Language
Malla – means “honoured one” in drow [10]
Lost Library
Folgrim Shallowsoul rounded the stack in front of the drow elf and stopped. Tortured nightmares had given him shape, while fierce magic had given him form. Gaunt and skeletal, his gaze burned with the pinpoints of green light surrounded by the black emptiness nesting inside the eye sockets. A fistful of dead white hair stuck to his head in a long, unkempt mane that trailed down his back. Blue-green dead flesh clung to its skull, stubbornly giving it features in spite of the immutability of nature. The lips had peeled back from its teeth, giving Shallowsoul a permanent sneering grimace.
He wore clothes of nobility, the cloth interwoven with fine strands of gold and silver, spotted with sapphire chips worked in intricate patterns. Over the long decades, the clothing had rotted and become tattered. [7]
Shallowsoul was a lich [10]
Only one wall was visible to her left. It soared up thirty feet before meeting the ceiling. A wheeled ladder hooked to the shelves ran all the way to the top, allowing a person to climb up to reach the highest volumes.
The two walls visible to her through the gaps in the intricate shelving looked like stone. The drow believed the vast library had been initially buried underground, not sunk there as the magic of the Army of Darkness had stricken the city and the protective mythal had come apart.
The room appeared to conform to no real shape as well, furthering her suspicions that the library had been deliberately designed to confuse any who entered it. Fragments in scrolls that she had found that spoke of the library had mentioned maps being necessary to find a way through.
Without those maps, even the parts of the library that Krystarn had seen would require years to merely catalog, even without getting into the content. Once in, if a searcher allowed himself or herself to be pulled in too far, there would be no return. [10]
For every five years of my servitude to you, I am allowed to make a copy of a book from this library." [10]
Gold control bands for the four skeleton warriors. once you're wearing a band, you have control over the skeleton warrior."
"Their souls were captured and placed within those bands," Shallowsoul agreed. "Those particular four were once enemies. I killed them, stripped their souls from their dying bodies, and enchanted them within those bands. They've been there for hundreds of years." Wear as circlets on the head [10,12]
"This all begins near the fall of Myth Drannor," Golsway said. "You're aware of my interest in the area. But it has been so hunted over, so infested with beasts and creatures so deadly to man that I consider it foolishness to simply wander in and hope for the best." He shrugged. "Still, in my younger days, I'd journeyed there a few times. I found nothing that wasn't picked over or nearly worthless."
Baylee waited, captivated.
"Back in those days, even before the Army of Darkness descended on the City of Songs and the final battles were fought, some of the elves had started arranging for the flight of the elves to Evermeet."
Anxiety chafed at Baylee, but he knew Golsway would only tell the story the way he wanted to.
"One of these men was a wood elf named Faimcir Glitterwing. He was one of those who reluctantly went along with Coronal Eltargrim's decision to open the gates of Myth Drannor to the humans and dwarves, and others. Glitterwing was related to the Irithyl family, but was in no way close for the contention of being Coronal. He had been a hero in the Crown against Scepter Wars, and fell in one of them. But during that time, Glitterwing built a huge library, a library that rivaled even the greatest of libraries ever assembled by the elves. A library, by all accounts that I have seen, that rivaled what is maintained at Candlekeep."
"When it became apparent," Golsway's image said, "that Myth Drannor was doomed to fall and the mythal could not keep the hordes of evil out, Glitterwing's heirs sought to move the library to Evermeet. The task fell to Gyynyth Skyreach, Glitterwing's granddaughter. Both of Faimcir's sons had been killed in the Crown against Scepter Wars. Skyreach was every bit her grandfather's blood and temperament, according to the records I've read. But to move all the library at once would have taken a huge fleet."
"Skyreach had only started moving the library when the Army of Darkness swarmed over Myth Drannor, beating the City of Songs down to her knees. Skyreach herself was aboard a ship, leading a fleet toward Evermeet. She didn't reach her destination."
Baylee waited with his breath held. A ship or ships had washed up on the shores somewhere around the Moonshaes and hadn't been discovered in hundreds of years. The possibility was staggering.
"I've researched this particular piece of information for decades," Golsway said. "A piece of gossip here, a thread of a tale there. But nothing seemed to add up. Nothing, at least, until a pictograph detailing Glitterwing's family's part in the Flight of the Elves was recovered. Uziraff Fireblade found the pictograph and sent it to me. I paid him a small fortune for it because he knew some of its worth, but not all. I'd planned on dealing with him myself because I know he and you don't get along very well." The old mage sighed. "Well, evidently that's not going to happen. So you'll have to make new plans." "The trail won't end there if you follow it carefully enough," Golsway said. "But if it does, I'm sure what you can recover from the wreck will more than pay for itself. My only hope is that some of the books will survive in some form after all these years of being on the ocean floor."
Baylee hoped so too. The thought of it almost made him too excited to sit there. [17]
books. The open one possessed a striking amethyst cover that looked cut from a huge, flawless stone. All of the pages appeared to have been cut from the same stone, sliced extremely thin. The writing was engraved on each page, complete with pictures. [18]
"The spell I had placed upon this ball's tracking abilities let me know as soon as one of your lackeys had found the ranger."
Krystarn had not known such a spell was possible. Scrying usually only entailed looking for, or at, a subject by the viewer, not having the ball do the work. Even more astounding was Shallowsoul's claim that the ball could track more than one subject. She had employed nearly two dozen spies to search for Baylee Arnvold.
Tell them he is to be left alive."
"How?" The fact that they were dopplegangers limited the names to a list of six.
"They will hear you." Shallowsoul touched the ball with a talon.
An amber glow clouded the glass, but didn't dim the clarity of the image.
The lich's instruction let Krystarn know the crystal ball was evidently one of Moredlin's, able to transmit sound from the viewed location to the scryer, and from the scryer to the viewed location. She leaned forward, her breath fogging the amber-tinted crystal. [18]
The part of the library she appeared in held two stone benches sitting in a magical arboretum where flowered plants wended up through stacks of books for over forty feet. This wing of the library carried an atmosphere unlike any she'd ever been in before. Where the others had primarily been closed in and reverential, this one seemed somehow gay and open. The area above the arboretum even looked like an open sky, even though the drow knew that couldn't be so. [21]
They have found it, the lich said. And now, so have I. The creature reached beneath his jacket and took out a pouch. Placing the crystal ball in the air, he left it levitating there at eye level. He poured the contents from the bag into one bony hand.
Krystarn got only a glimpse of the figurines there. The one the lich chose was a carving of a whale.
Shallowsoul spoke aloud old words in the elvish tongue that Krystarn did not understand. Some of them seemed familiar, but she couldn't be sure. She felt the magic weighted in them, causing sporadic backlashes in the shield she kept in place against the lich.
When he was finished, Shallowsoul closed his hand over the whale figurine. "Now," the lich said in a quiet voice, "now it will be finished." [21]
Krystarn followed Shallowsoul at a dead run. The lich ignored her, fleeing through the library stacks. After a time, he came to a door set in a wall black as anthracite. He waved an intricate gesture at it and said a word of power. A lock clicked.
He stepped through the entrance and Krystarn trailed him, catching the door before it could close.
The room on the other side of the door was a huge cavern with fiery pink walls that met in the rounded shape of a horseshoe nearly ninety feet in height. A huge pool of water three times that height in length eddied in the center of the room.
Shallowsoul stood at the water's edge and made gestures too quickly for the drow to follow. A moment later, a giant whale surfaced in the pool. At least, it partially surfaced, because it easily exceeded the nearly three hundred feet of space left open in the pool. Water spumed from its blowhole.
Then it opened its mouth, disgorging bits of broken ship in the shallows and on the bank. When it was finished, it sank into the pool again and another took its place. [22]
"It does contain maps of Glitterwing's library."
Baylee's attention centered immediately on the acolyte's words. "In Myth Drannor?"
"Not in Myth Drannor proper," Innesdav went on. "In a forest north of Mistledale.
"It is actually nearer the Standing Stone than it is Mistledale, I believe." [23]
The lich stood in front of a maze of whirling gems that floated in the air before him. She listened to him chant, not recognizing any of the words. The gems—sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds—all swirled faster, gaining speed. Then they smacked together. Instantly the earth shook around Krystarn.
And for a moment, the library shivered and disappeared.
Fear seized Krystarn's greed in its cold, greasy grip, shrinking it as the certainty filled her. Shallowsoul had discovered a way to take the library from the prime material plane where Faerun was located to another plane of existence. Either that, or he'd had a way all along, but didn't want to use it till after he recovered the shipwreck—or until humans had found the location of the library. [25]
Half a dozen stairs ran up in spirals twisting along the walls. From the way they were laid out, he felt certain that all of them lead to other areas, not simply higher up. He sheathed the sword, walking over to the nearest shelves. He could barely make out a title in one of the written languages known to him: The Creation of Dragons. Other books on the same shelf seemed to deal with dragons as their topic as well. So did the books above and below.
He reached for a book bound in maple, the red and white striped wood as polished and finished as any piece of furniture he'd ever seen. An ornate mist dragon, more noticeable because of the small ears and wedge-shaped head outfitted with a trailing mustache, glowed silver-blue on the book cover. Beside it was a book that looked like it had been bound in plates carved from running water. He could even hear the sound of water rushing by. [27]
"At the top of the stairs," Scoontiphp answered. "A room is there with a selection of vases. Shallowsoul's phylactery is an emerald drum the size of a man's head." [27]
The room he entered was filled as was all the others, with volumes and volumes of books. A tall desk occupied one end of the room. A carved stone chair with a high back sat behind it.
No one was in the room.
All of the walls held items scattered amid the books. Skulls, some from real creatures and others carved from precious metals, glinted in the lantern light. Dozens of crystal balls occupied unique mounts, including the skeletal hands of men and creatures. Vases numbered the most among the items scattered along the shelves.
Xuxa winged to the shelves in the center of the lantern's beam and hung upside down over a statue that must have been three feet tall. Here.
Baylee moved forward, targeting the statue of a woman with two faces, the second one occupying the space where the back of her skull should have been. She was naked, revealing twisted and broken limbs clothed in loose flesh. She held the emerald drum above her head. Her features, both sets of them, held only horror.
He moved closer, hypnotized by the beauty of the emerald drum. He didn't know how much it would be worth to a jeweler or a collector, but the burnished surface captured the light from his lantern like a fire had started deep within the emerald. [28]
A cloud of smoke erupted from the top of the desk, taking the shape of a huge, naked humanoid. The smoke kept coiling and climbing. In less than a moment, the desk was gone, reshaped into a stone golem that stepped ponderously toward Baylee.
The golem stood nine and a half feet tall and was as broad as any two men. The stone flesh marbled, turning white under the ranger's lantern light. It opened its mouth in a soundless scream. [28]
The library shifted to the Astral Plane [28]
Caer Callidyrr
"You will find Uziraff Fireblade at one of his usual haunts in the Moonshaes," Golsway said. "He knows nothing of the elven ships that went down in the ocean somewhere near where the pictograph was found. He did not give me the location or the circumstance of how it was recovered. I did not want to tip my hand too early. But when you show up on his doorstep, he's going to know." Uziraff Fireblade was a full-time pirate and part-time archeologist, learning just enough to let him know when he could demand extra money for the return of an object he "found." Golsway had worked with the man in the past, but had never enjoyed the experience. Fireblade was a braggart, but he was an excellent swordsman with the twin cutlasses he carried. "He considers himself an explorer." Baylee made a grimace of disgust. "But he is little more than a freebooter who sometimes strikes the skull and crossbones to do a little trading with those who wish to purchase certain discoveries he's been fortunate enough to discover." "He has a crew and a ship" Uziraff roared, turning to look over his shoulder at the door. He was a little more than six feet tall, bronzed from the sea and the wind, and his dirty blond hair was pulled back out of his face. Wide gold hoops dangled from his ears. His beard was full, but kept short, following the angles of his face. He wore a red silk shirt and black, heavy-weight breeches that tucked into roll-top boots. [17,19,20]
the Fickle Mermaid in Caer Callidyrr. The decor was bawdy, featuring a few dozen carved mermaid statues in various forms of debauchery with mermen, humans, and even unicorns. All of the statues had been glued to whatever surface they sat on to keep the tavern's patrons from walking off with them. Uziraff owns the Fickle Mermaid [20]
Windchaser, cog owned by Uziraff Fireblade [20]
the natural harbor.
Broken rock littered the coastline, some of them in the distance drawing white water. In the winter, the winds whipped over the harbor brutally, shutting down most avenues of trade except for the most desperate. The smell of brine was thick in the cool air.
Baylee led the way through the uneven line of porches fronting the shops around the harbor area. [20]
The building was a narrow expanse between a leather-working shop and a jewelry shop. Hand-lettering across the glass read Vlayn's Potions and Potables. the shop. It was dark and mysterious, smelling of arcane flowers and herbs. Most people who entered it would have been intimidated by the four skeleton displays hanging from hooks on the walls. They would have felt even more menaced if they knew Vlayn could have called them forth to defend him if he needed it.
the heavyset apothecary was a friendly merchant, but he always drove a hard bargain. [20]
"Tilmentus, the weaponsmith there, makes a good, collapsible bow that stores in a quiver of arrows. Tell him its for me and he'll know the draw of the arrows and the pull adjustment. Also tell him that I want sheaf arrows, three dozen in a side-by-side back quiver, with a half dozen of those already set up as incendiaries. A bag of caltrops. A spring-bladed parrying dagger. A good combat knife. And a long sword. And a brace of throwing knives." [20]
"I am Floon, the old sailor who stood before her. He was a shriveled brown nut of a man, his iron-gray hair in disarray. merely a day laborer hoping to earn an honest day's wages. [20]
"The pictograph came up in a lizard man's net," Uziraff Fireblade yelled over the whip and crack of the sailcloth. "He didn't understand what he'd found, but he took it to a man I do business with in Mintarn. The lizard man got a couple gold pieces and was very happy. The man I do business with got a hundred gold for his time, and considered himself fortunate. I, on the other hand, got a few thousand from Golsway. And now I'm starting to think I was made a fool of too." [21]
"This map possesses great magic. It only has a limited number of uses, so I don't use it often. I didn't use it when the lizard man brought me out here, but now that you're here, following up the trail Golsway gave you before he died, I felt it was well worth the investment. And it was. The ship you're seeking lies just beneath us, two hundred feet down."
"I've never heard of such a map," Cthulad said.
Baylee had, though he knew that they were very rare. On the sea, it could automatically map a circle sixty miles across, even though the ship had not been there. And it would include avian creatures over twenty-five feet long, and sea creatures over twenty feet long. On land, that distance was cut to forty miles.
Only the map's user could activate the magic inherent in the map. [21]
Baylee reached into his bag of holding and took out the other article he'd purchased before leaving Caer Callidyrr. The lantern was small, almost on every corner of the city, but at three hundred gold pieces each, not everyone was going to have them. [21]
Shipwreck
Then, glancing below, he spotted a stone tablet laying against the deck, partially shielded by the broken main mast. He made his way down carefully, swimming to the tablet.
Slipping his knife out, he pushed the blade against the side of the tablet. When it didn't fragment or crack, he put the knife away and risked picking it up. Some cultures had been written on stone tablets with a heavy sand content. Baylee had watched inexperienced site diggers reduce hundreds of years of records to dirt in seconds.
The stone weighed his arm down. He held the lantern to shine the light over the tablet. The language looked familiar. It wasn't the true elven tongue; it was something older than Myth Drannor, but it was human. Perhaps even something from Netheril, the civilization of human mages that had lived on floating islands in the sky. [21]
"North and east of Mintarn," Krystarn answered. The image trapped in the glass clearly showed Baylee Arnvold in the shipwreck's hold, battling animated corpses. [21]
The leader of the whales heard the old call in his head. The knowledge of the call had been passed down from generation to generation, as well as the story of the debt that they owed the one (Folgrim Shallowsoul) who called.
The whale leader sounded his mournful cry and heard it echo through the nearby waters. His pod came to him, falling into line in his wake immediately.
"A way will be made," the voice inside the whale leader's head said. "You are very far from your goal. But if you trust me, I will get you there."
The whale leader trumpeted in agreement. A moment later, the water rippled in front of him. He swam through without hesitation. The debt his people owed the one who called was immense.
And he felt the dimensions shift around him, just as the Elders had described in their stories. [21]
how far from any coast."
"No more than seven or eight miles, actually," Baylee replied. "The ship was only two hundred feet or so down. I studied nautical charts on the trip out here. The coastal plains don't drop off sharply into the ocean bed for another three miles or so. We need to head west and south to get to shore. Chalice of the Crowns would not have sailed to the south of Mintarn to reach Evermeet; they would have gone north." He gestured toward the sky. [22]
Four hours later, they found what remained of Windchaser. The boat was a battered hulk listing in the water. Her sails and rigging rose and fell lifelessly on the ocean surface.
Baylee recognized the stress fractures running through the cog's mast and sides. The whales had returned to finish what they had started. [22]
Candlekeep
He peered at the dock at the bottom of the crag. The rock was volcanic and black, reaching down into the green of the Sea of Swords. It made it harder to see the group of acolytes gathered near the small docks in their black robes. Tsunami Dancer put into the harbor. The black robed acolytes tied the ship to the mooring anchors while the sailors unlimbered the boarding platform. It thumped solidly onto the dock. [23]
Innesdav was a half-head taller than Baylee, but thin as a post, almost looking like a scarecrow instead of a man. He pushed his cowl back, a smile on his wrinkled face. Baylee agreed. Besides Golsway, Innesdav was the other important figure in the ranger's life. Where the old mage had been a stern disciplinarian, Innesdav had been the doting uncle, always there with a gift or a piece of candy when Golsway wasn't looking. And in those years when Golsway was most active at Candlekeep, Innesdav had provided a vast tutelage of his own, bringing to Baylee's attention fantastic stories told just for the sheer wonder and amazement of it. [23]
one of the many outbuildings that were as close to Candlekeep as any outsider was ever allowed. A terraced rock garden surrounded the building, dotted with numerous trees and stone benches. Natural springs ran through the rocks and across the landscaped areas. [23]
"Here in Candlekeep, we have the means to open a dimensional door to the woods near Mistledale where you can find the library." He focused his gaze on Baylee. "I have talked to Ulraunt about the possibility of sending you there. But it would be on the behest of Candlekeep, and anything you may find would become the property of Candlekeep." [23]
"Actually," Innesdav said, "we were hoping you might offer assistance, Junior Civilar Cordyan. In return, we would be willing to grant Lord Piergeiron certain liberties within the towers of Candlekeep as well." [23]
They sat in one of the many dining rooms in an outbuilding maintained around the towers where guests from outside Candlekeep were allowed. Monks waited on them, bringing great trays of food to feed the armed men and sailors. The men of the watch and the crew of Tsunami Dancer hadn't been allowed into the libraries, but the monks wouldn't turn them away from the tables. [23]
Wards protected Candlekeep from ever burning down despite the torches, lanterns, and candles that seemed to burn in every room. [23]
Brother Darhakk's dimensional door will not settle properly over land."
"As long as it'll get us where we're going," Baylee said, "what more could we ask for?"
Brother Darhakk finished the last of his inspection and turned to face the assembled riders. "If the necessary alignments for such a long portage were more favorable, I could place the dimensional door wherever I wanted. This morning, at this time, the door you see before you is the only one that is possible to get you where you are going. Even so, I will not be able to keep it open long." [24]
Rainydale
They came upon the remnants of the city unexpectedly. Baylee rode point and halted the line as soon as he came to the crest of the hill overlooking the area where the city had been. According to the map Innesdav had reconstituted from Skyreach's logbook, the city had once been called Rainydale, known as Selarrynm in the elven tongue, and had been one of the larger trading posts outside of Myth Drannor proper.
The Army of Darkness that had crushed Myth Drannor had rolled over Rainydale. Little of the city remained except for a few foundations that poked up through the tangle of underbrush and trees.
Baylee leaned across the saddle pommel to stretch his cramped back muscles. He wasn't accustomed to long hours of riding. "From here, we need to find the temple of Corellon Larethian, and the well that is attached to it. There should be a passage at the bottom of it."
"The temple shouldn't be hard to find," the old ranger said. "Corellon is chief god among the elves. His temple will have been one of the larger structures." [24]
Precious little remained of the temple of the elven god. And an immense stone slab covered the well itself. [24]
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 13 Mar 2023 : 17:25:18
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An Opportunity For Profit (1377 DR, maybe 1371 DR)
By David Gross
Doegan
"The forests of Doegan are not safe," said Anvil. "Especially at night." "We're not talking about simple bandits or wild animals," said Belgin reasonably. "The fiends aren't natural creatures. They come from another world, and their powers-" "The fiends of Doegan can tear a man apart," said Ingrar. His voice took on the cadence of a childhood rhyme. "They catch you up in iron claws and feast upon your heart. They break your bones with burning stones and-" they say there are even more fiends in the woods lately. An entire caravan was lost last month." [2]
hills to the northeast of Eldrinpar [2]
Captain Turbalt, of the Morning Bird [2]
Elsger, Garni, Haj, Brenn, and Jan, Mar sailors from Tharkar on the Morning Bird [2]
His skin was not as dark as that of the Mar, those who descended from the original inhabitants of the region. But with his delicate olive complexion he could blend into the darkness much more naturally than any of the human Sharkers, whose fair skin marked them as children of the Ffolk, the settlers who now ruled the Five Kingdoms. [2]
Though they were Mar rather than Ffolk, the division between the castes broke down at sea, but even that took more time than the Sharkers had spent with the men of the Morning Bird. [3]
The first looked like one of the great bloated dead of the sea. Huge and pale, with thick wallows of fat rolling down from its hairless head, it shambled toward the light. More emerged from behind it, their skin twisted and grotesque as if ravaged by disease. On some Sharessa could see patches of bone where the flesh had flowed away like lava from a dying volcano. In other places the flesh had run together and hardened in ugly knots. The things are damned slow." [3]
the Web mountains [3]
"You saw how slow those things are," she said. "Whatever killed Elsger and Jan is wickedly fast. Maybe it controls the slow ones. Maybe it sent them out to push us back in." [3]
"There are fiends in the waters of Doegan, too." Anvil just nodded. "Gigantic ones." [3]
"There's a river canyon in the way," pointed out Belmer. "About fifty yards north from the shore." "There was a footbridge, once," said Anvil. "I think. [3]
The fiend in the woods is fast, can deflect non magic weapons, smells like rotting flesh. Claws contain a paralytic poison. Can create illusions (of a bridge, entangling vines). Can create a wall of ice. The thing crouched over Brindra was man-shaped, with long, spindly limbs bent at arachnid angles. Clawed hands too large for the thing's body clamped Brindra's arms to the bridge floor. A heavy, segmented tail crooked above its back, ending in a long, cruel barb that curved back in a hook. It shouldn't have been alive, that skull head. The flesh that bound the bones was gray-brown and bloodless, like a sculptor's unfinished foundation. Long, splintered fangs jutted where teeth should be, forming a grotesque smile on the putty face. A pair of jagged holes were the nose, and above them flickered eyes of flame. [4,5]
"If it weren't for the bloodforges, there wouldn't be any fiends in Doegan." "Bloodforges?" asked Belmer. "They are what give the rulers of the Five Kingdoms their power," said Sharessa. "Great magical artifacts that create armies. Belmer halted for a moment and stared intently at her. "Are you serious?" "Oh, yes. If it weren't for the bloodforges, I think, Doegan would control the entire region." "Or the Fallen Temple would," said Anvil. His voice was even more hoarse than usual, Sharessa thought. The strain of carrying Ingrar was wearing him down. "The emperor is the only thing that keeps the Temple in check." "Emperor," chuckled Belgin derisively. "He's no greater than the others, a petty king warring for land." "And who else will protect us from the fiends?" retorted Brindra. She and Anvil were both from Doegan. "Surely not the shepherds of Edenvale." "Hey!" interjected Ingrar weakly. The others stopped arguing at once, all eyes on their wounded companion. He murmured some protest about the bravery of Edenvalers before Anvil made him drink some water. The wounded youth sipped a few drops and returned to sleep. "Tell me more about this Fallen Temple," said Belmer. "It's a corrupted order based on one of the old gods the Ffolk brought over centuries ago," said Sharessa. "People say that the Fallen Temple brings the fiends into this world." "That's not it," said Rings. "It's the bloodforges themselves. The more the kings use them, the more fiends come." "It is true that the bloodforges are dangerous," said Anvil slowly. "They curse whoever uses them, and all their people." He pulled open his shirt to expose his ribs to the torchlight. Paint, piscine scales covered his flesh. "Most Ffolk in Doegan bear signs similar to this. Some even are born with gills." "That's nothing," said Brindra. She fanned her fingers open to show that they were webbed up to the first knuckle. "Everyone in Eldrinpar and many who live nearby show some sign of the sea." "The emperor of Doegan hasn't shown his face in public since before I was born," added Anvil. "They say it's because he's become like a fiend himself." "Still, no ruler will stop using a bloodforge," said Belgin. "It's the only way to defend your kingdom when the enemy is using one. No ordinary army can stand against the creatures made by a blood-forge." [4]
She'd heard that the emperor of Doegan had built his palace around the bloodforge, though she wasn't sure that was true. Centuries-old stories spoke of thousands of Mar slaves dragging bloodforges on gigantic sledges when one had to be moved. [4]
In Doegan the temperature usually dropped at night [5]
Low adobe homes sprawled outside the walls of Eldrinpar. Mar children played on the unpaved streets, their brown faces laughing through the dust. Sharessa noticed Belmer's gaze follow them. His eyes narrowed in thought or memory. "Many of the Mar live outside the city," explained Sharessa. "Most of them are farmers or servants. Some will never be more than beggars.
Within the gates, Eldrinpar was a different city. Aquatic images dominated the architecture, with wave patterns and marine imagery common on the grander buildings. The people were taller than the Mar, their skins more fair. Their clothes-flowing, brightly colored silks-were better, and they smiled confidently where they walked. Not far past the gate stood a colossal fountain. From its center rose the huge bronze figure of a man wrestling an octopus that was rising from the ocean. Water jetted forth from every wave, pouring down into the wide basin. At its edges, people drew water in buckets or cupped hands
"Koumiss," (a drink) "Terrible stuff. Blackfingers was ready to have us both keelhauled just to get the smell off the ship."
Sharkers
Ingrar. He had been a shepherd before leaving the Web mountains to find his fortune. [3]
Anvil. Though he had spent most of his adult life at sea, the big pirate had been born in Doegan. [3]
Brindra took her sword from an Ulgarthan buccaneer," it might be magical [4]
Rings held up one of his axes, a dwarven weapon with a curving blade. "It's an everbright," explained Rings. "I don't know whether it can hurt that fiend, but it has the magic of the smith within its steel." [4]
Brindra slain by the fiend [7]
Belmer was Artemis Entreri in disguise
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 14 Mar 2023 : 14:01:36
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Conspiracy (1377 DR, maybe 1371 DR)
By J. Robert King
Doegan
Lord Garkim has said that this bedchamber, like all of the mage-king's lower palace, was once part of a sea cave. The stone walls here were carved out by generations of tides. Even the brown blankets I he upon come-from the ocean, woven from seaweed. The mattress is just a net of kelp. I feel like a netted fish. [prologue]
The Fountain of the Kraken sprayed tentacles of briny mist into the air. Ocean breezes caught the questing arms of fog and spread them low and flat over the Plaza of the Mage-King. From there, the mists sifted past slums before sliding through the teeth of the outer wall. The fog scintillated for a moment, transfixed on slaying wards, and then moved on, across a scoured plain of salted ground and into the arid forest beyond. What happened to the mist next, only trees and fiends could have told. The fountain was, indeed, an altar. The statue of a god stood in its center: a man wrestling a great kraken. His anguished face, frozen in chiseled marble, had eyes bored deep into his skull. In one mighty hand, he gripped a constricting tentacle. In the other, he held a trident, thrust down among more octopus arms. The jetting sprays of water showed how the battle of these colossi churned the oceans of the world. [1]
The statue of Aetheric—which peasants thought to be merely a man wrestling a kraken [2]
Perhaps a year ago, Ikavi Garkim would have brought only twenty men, but now, every last soldier of Doegan's native forces was weak with the Gray Malaise. The city's priests had failed to find a cure, and those infected grew slowly, agonizingly worse. Already hundreds of civilians had died from it, and the malaise was beginning to cripple the army. [2]
Another of Aetheric's damned golems. The king could see through thousands of eyes in this city. [2]
Mar burn the dead on funeral pyres [3]
While any pub in the Heartlands would center around a hearth, this cafe centered on an open-air courtyard that held a tranquil pool. The eaves over the pool were high and broad, providing shade and secrecy from the eyes of flying things. The walls were more window than wall, letting restless sea winds shift among the beams.
The pool was a kind of urban oasis, edged in azure tile and surrounded by swaying palms and trailing vines. Tables were hidden among the dense growth so that patrons had a sense of seclusion. The secret cafe was, in a word, inviting.
The owner, at first, was not. The light-skinned pirates and white-skinned Noph made him very nervous. Ffolk rarely came to this secret spot, and never in the company of Mar. [4]
Garkim staggered into the blue shadow of the palace.
He crossed the stair bridge above the dry moat and bulled his way past the gate guards who had stepped in to bar his way. There was a touch of Aetheric's own strength in this melancholy that had settled over Lord Garkim; one of the guards went down clutching cracked ribs, and the other was knocked unconscious by an errant elbow.
Seeing what had happened to the first guards, the second pair let Garkim through without requesting a password. He took no notice of them. They were like roaches clinging to the curved belly of the tunnel he walked. The very stones were warped by the Mage-King's deep, horrific sorrow.
How could the guards not sense it? How could they be so oblivious to this recursive dread?
The curvature seemed greater with each step, until
individual stones stretched in eerie shapes around Garkim. It was as though he were walking within a glass globe. The world outside was bent into utter absurdity. His eyes could not tell him whether he stood in the crescent hallway before the audience chamber or on the highest parapet atop the tower. [5]
We brought Lady Eidola here. It was no other. Not Waterdhavian nobles. Not the Fallen Temple. Not the Unseen. It was we. We used our bloodforge to conjure warriors and gate them into the chapel of Piergeiron's Palace.
A chill ran down Garkim's spine. It dismayed him that he had not even guessed this.
There is much more you do not know about us, little one. Some of it we tell you now.
In an effort to silence his thoughts, Garkim asked, "Why? Why did you kidnap Lady Eidola?"
We kidnapped her for this, very hour. The hour of our deliverance—or our demise. Have you not seen how our people are ill, languishing beneath this oppressive contagion?
"I have more than seen, Your Highness," Garkim replied, peeling down the edges of his collar. "I, too, am infected, though I have not yet grown weak, like the others."
The disease is brought on by the bloodforge. You knew that. The disease first attacked only us. We have, these many decades, absorbed all the twisting evil of the bloodforge into our own body, so saving our people.
"Praise be to thee, Your Highness."
But it is too much now. The bloodforge has grown ravenous. It has eaten holes through us, and its terrible teeth gnash outward upon our people. Its poisons creep into their blood, slowing them, filling them with fever, transforming their flesh. We know what it does to them, to you, for already it did these things to us.
"We have spoken of this already, my king," Garkim said. "I know what has brought the Gray Malaise, and what has, for that matter, brought the very armies of hell to batter our gates. I know that only with the bloodforge can we fight the tanar'ri, though its very use makes us weaker." He had grown as pale as a sea slug. "So, then, why use the bloodforge to steal away Eidola
of Neverwinter? Did not that only worsen the artifact's cravings, and bring more fiends?"
It was meant to bring us new armies to fight our old foes. It brought us paladins and pirates.
As long as Eidola of Neverwinter remained in my dungeons, beneath this very tank, more warriors would have arrived in these lands, armies of them. They would have fought the fiend war for us. In time, the fiends would have been slaughtered. Then we would have relaxed our defenses, and the bloodforge would once more have grown quiet. Such was my plan.
"What has gone wrong?"
The Paladinson has fallen into a deep coma. Were he awake, he would have mustered the greatest fleet in Faerun to come here in search of his lost bride. They would have come and fought fiends for us and driven them all back to the Abyss. Instead, the loveless mage Khelben Blackstaff has sent only one small group, whose number was nearly halved before they even arrived— two dead, and Paladinstar remaining to tend her father. Now even the foolish youth Kastonoph has left them. We cannot throw back the fiends with such pitiful numbers as these. The Blackstaff does not prize his master's bride as he ought. [5]
The fiends have found another route into the city, through a deep and ancient labyrinth of dwarf tunnels. To close all of them off would require a use of the bloodforge that would be instantly lethal for every creature in Doegan. The fiends will find their way into the city, and soon. [5]
Things emerged. Iron floodgates that had endured decades of monsoons shattered and spun away, ringing like claxons. Into the space where they had been, horrors scrambled: serrated horns, spiked sagittal crests, eyes as long and thin as scythe blades, jaws that were no more than bone and daggers, bodies of wire and scale, clawed talons, stinging tails. . . . And these were only the nearby beasts—blood-hued
monstrosities that clambered up from the culvert beside Miltiades. In the distance, he glimpsed grasping tentacles, hairless rat tails, vast wings of skin.... [6]
"If Noph's memory of the palace serves, beyond the great hall is a wide, crescent-shaped corridor that connects all the ceremonial spaces. The high double doors at the center of the crescent give into the audience chamber. Beyond it lies the mage-king's personal quarters—his tank. The bloodforge must be there." [7]
Sharkers
Sharessa "the Shadow" Stagwood, or Shar. [1]
Artemis Entreri drew a small, deadly blade from concealment and flung it through the fountain's mist. The steel flashed for a breath before it buried itself in Captain Jander Turbalt's head. The sound was like a snake biting into an egg. The man's limbs went limp, though he remained upright, as if the dagger pinned him to the sky. Then he dropped. [1]
the blind young man Ingrar. He drew his blade and shouted," 'Ware! Paladins!"
Could he smell paladins?—old armor scrubbed and waxed to shine hot beneath a cruel sun? Could he hear paladins?—voices of virtue in a world of vice? Somehow, he knew what and who they were. We marked this young man, Ingrar. He had gained a unique blessing. No longer could his eyes fool him. No longer was he the victim of illusions—double images and double walkers. The windows of his higher self were shuttered; the windows of his lower self, his animal self, were flung wide [1]
The pirate named Anvil had once had a scarred face, but it was gone. In its place was the bloody end of a two-handed sword, whose hilt was even then held in the grip of the young, blond paladin, Jacob. [1]
Noph has a golden lasso, it unerringly lassos whatever he wants and compels them to tell the truth [1,2]
"We, such as we are, are Captain Blackfingers Ralingor."
"What?" asked Noph. "All of you, together?"
"We seven," Ingrar said, and the others nodded. "A kind of joint-stock company."
Noph was now thoroughly confused. "You mean there never was any Captain Blackfingers? You made him up?"
Rings glanced at Shar. "No, there was such a man. But he died, and we didn't want to spread it around. So Belgin here came up with the idea of pretending he was still alive." [4]
Paladins
"The Day of Tyr," "The end of time. The Coming of Justice."
'And my hammer shall smite the nations of darkness and grind them into bitter meal.'" " 'And I shall cast them down from on high, as the blacksmith casts down the burrs of iron that cling to his new-forged hammer. They shall fall from the heavens on this, my day, that all peoples of every land will know that the hammer of justice descends.' "
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George Krashos
Master of Realmslore
Australia
6666 Posts |
Posted - 15 Mar 2023 : 00:48:11
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quote:
Originally posted by Gary Dallison
Lost Library was for me a very good read.
Yes the main character was awesome at everything, and yes some of the bits didnt quite add up (a wild elf able to cast very powerful magic - enough to turn someone into a lich, and a wild elf obsessed with books. None of these are characteristically wild elven. Or the use of "dimension door" to travel 1000s of miles across Faerun), but it was rammed full of lore and the main characters got explored to a depth i dont believe i've encountered in a realms novel thus far.
I just think it's a shame that Games and Novels weren't talking to each other. This novel and the Cormanthyr sourcebook were being written at the same time and should have had cross connections. The fact that they have none, makes it a tough read from a Realms perspective. It exists in a vacuum. To be fair though, Steven should have seen this book as he was writing Fall of Myth Drannor ...
-- George Krashos |
"Because only we, contrary to the barbarians, never count the enemy in battle." -- Aeschylus |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 17 Mar 2023 : 20:23:12
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Hmmm, the Evermeet novel is not as good as i was hoping.
The novel jumps all over the timeline, which i dont mind normally, but crucially the timeline in this novel does not match the timeline for Faerun.
I get that the timeline didnt exist in the detail we have now when Elaine wrote the novel but it is somewhat detracting from the enjoyment.
More importantly is how to solve the timeline problems. We have the Crown Wars first, then the Descent of the Drow, then the Sundering.
Now you could say that the events in the novel are unreliable narrator and i believe Elaine suggested they were told by an elder who obviously heard it second or third hand and is many millennia old.
But, the problem with this explanation is that the events are explained in the timeline with justifications and people and events referenced such that it would be difficult to accidentally reorder the timeline incorrectly because one event causes the other, etc.
So, back to my original theory. The Sundering stretched backwards and forwards in time (canon i believe from one source) and as such it disrupted the timeline, created a branch. The events in Evermeet are the original timeline stretching from start to finish in sequential order.
The timeline we have in our sourcebooks is the branch timeline.
Now explaining this branch timeline is slightly complicated but bear with me.
In original timeline we have the Crown Wars occur first because, then the Descent because of the Crown Wars and then finally the Sundering. The Sundering wipes out Atornash and much of Ilythiir, and separates Faerun the one land, pushing half of it out across the sea with Evermeet in the middle.
Now in the branch timeline the Sundering begins far back in time before the elves even arrive (if we take the difference between first and second sundering that is how far it stretch in the future so we can assume it also stretched back in time the same amount which means Evermeet formed about -36000 DR which is before any known history).
The fallout from this event is that Ilythiir does not benefit from Kar'Narlist and the power of Atornash, so their development is slower, they also do not associate with fiends until much later.
The delay in Ilythiir's rise to power and evil leanings means a much slower build up to the Crown Wars.
So in the branch timeline the first event to occur is the Sundering.
Now the Sundering does not need to occur because it already has, the land is already separated and Evermeet already exists, but the high magic ritual did much more than separate the land, it allowed the Seldarine to create a piece of Arvandor on Toril, warding it against drow and weather and creating the Tree of Souls. So because the Sundering ritual was performed it still has to be performed (assuming you follow the theory that time is like a river which can be diverted but will always return back to its original path).
Then we have the Crown Wars which may include far fewer elven realms than originally (the elven realms that lay where the Sword Coast and Trackless Sea now lie).
Then we have the Descent of the Drow.
It helps if you read Terry Pratchett novels (the Nightwatch i think deals with it best), he explains stuff like this far better than me.
Crucially it would explain why Starleaf was destined to perform the ritual even though in the same conversation the gods say they cannot prevent things from happening (or conversely force them to happen) because that would take away mortal choice.
Just a theory, but it means that Atornash never existed in the branch timeline but it is in legends because the timeline revision is not clean or complete. Some people that survive the Sundering originally exist in the branch timeline and would know about Atornash as a legend. Atornash itself might exist as a ruin under the sea kind of like a ruin out of time. Certain powerful people, places, items might still exist without justification - kind of how bits of Abeir mixed with Toril and then some were removed later but some werent. |
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George Krashos
Master of Realmslore
Australia
6666 Posts |
Posted - 19 Mar 2023 : 07:49:45
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Elaine has said more than a few times that the early parts of the book are relayed through tales from Danilo Thann in unreliable narrator mode. It all would have made more sense if Rich Baker had not insisted on dating the First Sundering at -17600 DR despite Eric and I begging him to go with -24,000 DR. That's why Eric had to later go with the "backwards and forward in time" thing. C'est la Realms.
-- George Krashos |
"Because only we, contrary to the barbarians, never count the enemy in battle." -- Aeschylus |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Seravin
Master of Realmslore
Canada
1288 Posts |
Posted - 19 Mar 2023 : 23:29:00
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Hmm I thought the history stuff in Evermeet was quite enjoyable and well done - but again I wasn't viewing it with your lens for consistency with other sources.
It's the present day stuff that drove me insane with contrivance and plotholes, and why I don't ever want to read it again. |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 20 Mar 2023 : 07:50:38
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I vaguely recall it was Kymils escape with divine assistance that you weren't happy with.
After my most recent revaluation of divinity and the rules surrounding it and final acceptance I am fine with the modern day events as they have played out thus far.
Lolth and others assisting the escape of Kymil is within the rules of the divine for many reasons and does not breach the balance.
Firstly, kymil was not on toril so lolth is free to do what she wants.
Secondly, kymil is not a follower of any other god so she can do what she wants with him.
Thirdly you could argue that kymil has become so evil and duplicitous and anti elf that he is in danger of aligning his goals so closely with lolths that he could be considered a follower in spirit.
And lastly gods can ignore the balance and interfere in mortal affairs and worshippers of other gods, but they do so infrequently and in small ways or indirectly so as not to get noticed. Because kymil was favoured by no one and not even on toril, lolth must have felt safe enough to act without breaking the Balance.
When it comes to the army and stuff. Lolth provided a ship of spell jamming elves, but if they were not travelled to toril and damaged by lolth herself then it is fair game. Similarly if kymil found gates to other worlds to get an army then it's fair game.
Gods are allowed to act through intermediaries and provide aid indirectly as much as they want, there is always the chance of failure and counter activities from intermediaries of other gods.
I suspect the Seldarine discovered lolths hand in kymil and so set about foiling much of lolths plans in the future. It might explain why drizzt has such plot armour, why he keeps finding just the right super items to save the day, why his companions get feelings that he is in danger and need his help.
Lolths actions, while they did not break the rules explicitly could be seen as bad form and so the seldarine engage in the same against her.
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TBeholder
Great Reader
2427 Posts |
Posted - 20 Mar 2023 : 09:45:40
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quote:
Originally posted by Gary Dallison
Noph has a golden lasso, it unerringly lassos whatever he wants and compels them to tell the truth [1,2]
Oh dear.
quote:
'And my hammer shall smite the nations of darkness and grind them into bitter meal.'" " 'And I shall cast them down from on high, as the blacksmith casts down the burrs of iron that cling to his new-forged hammer. They shall fall from the heavens on this, my day,
So... Netheril?  |
People never wonder How the world goes round -Helloween
And even I make no pretense Of having more than common sense -R.W.Wood
It's not good, Eric. It's a gazebo. -Ed Whitchurch |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Wooly Rupert
Master of Mischief
USA
36804 Posts |
Posted - 20 Mar 2023 : 18:59:52
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quote:
Originally posted by George Krashos
Elaine has said more than a few times that the early parts of the book are relayed through tales from Danilo Thann in unreliable narrator mode. It all would have made more sense if Rich Baker had not insisted on dating the First Sundering at -17600 DR despite Eric and I begging him to go with -24,000 DR. That's why Eric had to later go with the "backwards and forward in time" thing. C'est la Realms.
-- George Krashos
It does not surprise me at all that Rich Baker was responsible for causing problems with Realmslore. |
Candlekeep Forums Moderator
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Seravin
Master of Realmslore
Canada
1288 Posts |
Posted - 20 Mar 2023 : 22:58:24
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Was it spelljamming ships with extra-planar non-realms elves that invaded by sea? In my head it was just nonsense that a huge armada could be formed on the Sword Coast and not one Harper or Chosen or friend of Evermeet/Elves knew anything about it but I suppose if this all happened outside of Realmspace and the ships all flew in from outerspace or however spelljamming works that makes a lot more sense to me. And it makes sense a silver dragon on patrol would be the first to spot the threat I guess. I don't really like Spelljamming as a concept though it doesn't fit with my view of the Realms (nor Ed's Realms I am certain).
Still doesn't erase the fact that neither the Elves nor the Harpers would have let Kymil live (after murdering 20+ Harpers and committing Regicide) and I'm sorry but I will never think otherwise.
Kymil should have been executed after being found guilty of those heinous murders/crimes, it is written that way in the Code of the Harpers sourcebook (look what the Harpers did to Finder and he didn't even directly kill anyone! Nevermind what they tried to do to Mari when she handed in her harper pin) -- and no kingdom would allow Regicide to go without an example of capital punishment. I mean, Arilyn killed several gold elves just to get to Kymil without missing a beat but of course we had contrivance needed to stop her killing him because um... apparently Detect Lie spells or Speak with Dead spells don't exist in Harper tribunals. Sigh.
All of which would have been easily solved by Harpers/Elven court executing Kymil and Lolth resurrecting him to be her Chosen vessel to get revenge on the Selderine / Evermeet. Just no idea why it didn't happen that way.
And I really feel strongly that we should have some in-novel explanation of why the Selderine didn't intervene with the events. Whatever their reason, we the readers shouldn't be making it up. |
Edited by - Seravin on 20 Mar 2023 23:37:53 |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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TBeholder
Great Reader
2427 Posts |
Posted - 21 Mar 2023 : 16:23:16
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quote:
Originally posted by Gary Dallison
I'm not sure if the speech is referring to Netheril
I mean, they were the only ones eligible for falling "from the heavens". Assuming he meant someone on Prime, rather than the Hardheads.
quote:
Originally posted by Wooly Rupert
It does not surprise me at all that Rich Baker was responsible for causing problems with Realmslore.
Yup. The City of Ravens, The Last Mythal...
One of the best designers TSR ever had, but not consistently better at naming things than Leonard of Quirm, and allowing him to touch continuity proved even worse.
quote:
Originally posted by Seravin
Was it spelljamming ships with extra-planar non-realms elves that invaded by sea? In my head it was just nonsense that a huge armada could be formed on the Sword Coast and not one Harper or Chosen or friend of Evermeet/Elves knew anything about it but I suppose if this all happened outside of Realmspace and the ships all flew in from outerspace or however spelljamming works that makes a lot more sense to me.
Nobody would look twice. It's what, the end of Second Unhuman War, or aftermath? And near Evermeet, which acts as EIN supply base, among the other things. A bunch of Elven ships is not a major anomaly. "They probably are supposed to be there." The Elves don't publish their flight plans for everyone to see, after all.
Of course, for the same reasons their participation looks like random stupidity in the first place. Any spelljamming elves nearby (including those not affiliated with EIN) at this point must have more important things to care about than local politics of some elven realm in another sphere. Also, the approach itself would be unreliable at best. In that there's a good chance the local EIN fleet can notice and notify the locals even if not suspicious. At which point Evermeet officials most likely will be suspicious about the timing and try to check.
However, it's not too anomalous either. The elves in general tend to be quite practical in everyday life, but in other affairs often exhibit excess of theatrics, delusions and either suicidal recklessness or paralysing risk aversion. Likewise, they can be very competent in squad- to company- scale organization and tactics, but above that moronic behaviour is not rare. Battle of the Gods Theater is a great example: the only sensible explanation is that those elves had not as much an operationally sensible and controlled engagement, as an oversized tantrum.
And this conspiracy did not exactly collect all the best and brightest.
quote:
Still doesn't erase the fact that neither the Elves nor the Harpers would have let Kymil live (after murdering 20+ Harpers and committing Regicide) and I'm sorry but I will never think otherwise.
Consider the Elven mentality.
They are more into prolonged forms of vengeance, in some extreme cases variations of burying their enemies alive. After all, if you just behead some jackass, it's over, and what happens then? He forgets everything and lives happily ever after in Arvandor (or somewhere else if he's an apostate)? That's quite unsatisfying, you see. Add some sanctimony on top to taste (or lack thereof). |
People never wonder How the world goes round -Helloween
And even I make no pretense Of having more than common sense -R.W.Wood
It's not good, Eric. It's a gazebo. -Ed Whitchurch |
Edited by - TBeholder on 22 Mar 2023 12:06:18 |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Seravin
Master of Realmslore
Canada
1288 Posts |
Posted - 31 Mar 2023 : 23:20:15
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Yeah when I asked Elaine about why they let Kymil live despite it being regicide and against the Code the Harpers, her response was "they made a mistake". Which if your plot hinges on dozens of elven royalty and Harper leaders making a mistake and acting out of character/stupid then maybe try again. I don't know. I also had major problems with Elfshadow's metaplot that Arilyn would somehow be found guilty unless she kept Kymil alive, that contrivance didn't work for me (hello detect lie spells hello a million other reasons why that makes no sense). I guess I love Elaine's work and world building but I don't love the plot holes.
On the history side of Evermeet, I think so much has been retconned you're stuck with a multiverse/timelines approach! |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 07 Apr 2023 : 20:25:42
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Uneasy Alliances (1374 DR, maybe 1371 DR)
By David Cook and Peter Archer
When Aetheric first began to rule, he was a man. But after a few years, he withdrew into the palace and no one saw him anymore. Fiends attacked the kingdom, and Aetheric's armies fought them off. But still nobody saw him. Father said the emperor had gone mad from using the bloodforge. But when I got older, I heard other tales that he was deformed." Her eyes widened in horror. "I never dreamed he'd become what we saw behind that wall." [2]
Althgar, young guard in the palace of Doegan. Set to guard the anteroom of the chamber of Aetheric [2]
The Bloodforge. In form, it was a round stone, no more than a foot in diameter. The colors that came from within it mirrored the entire spectrum, a luminous display that shone brightly but without warmth. Round the altar were carved bas-reliefs. Noph recognized with a shock the same squidlike figure he'd seen in the fountain where he first met the mercenaries, a figure he now knew to be the mage-king. [3]
"It's called the bloodforge. It needs blood. It feeds on blood." There was a hiss as the assassin's blood, squeezed from his slashed hand, dropped onto the stone's surface. To Noph's eyes, aching from the glow, the blood seemed to spread across the entire surface of the forge, shimmering, separating, and recombining in a series of ever more complex patterns. The humming that filled the cavern increased in volume, and from the forge stepped a man. Yet only half a man. His limbs were twisted and hideously distorted, his neck bent as if broken. One leg was shorter than the other, one arm a tiny withered appendage, while the other ended in a massive knotted fist. [3]
"In the name of the temple of Tyr, I claim the bloodforge. Stand aside." "Now, wait just a minute…" began Sharessa. At her side, Kern suddenly lifted his warhammer. "There is no temple of Holy Tyr in this land," he said sternly. "You must be false worshipers to claim his name." The hooded figure hesitated, then spoke. "We are the true temple of Tyr. The bloodforge is ours by right, with the fall of the despicable Aetheric, who suppressed our temple. We claim it, and we shall take it by force if necessary." [3]
In the sudden blaze of light, Noph could see beneath the cowls of the cultists. He could see their tattooed faces, their slavering mouths, their bloodshot eyes, desperate for a new sacrifice to their false god. [3]
A bolt of pure light surged from the stone, wrapping around Artemis's arm. His mouth opened as if to command the energy, then turned into a wordless scream of agony. The flesh of his arm seemed to melt and dissolve. He pulled back from the forge and stared at white bones that still, horrifyingly, flexed and scraped in a parody of human action. Entreri stared at the arm for a moment, as if his brain refused the evidence of his eyes. Then his body went limp, and he collapsed by the forge in a heap. From within the forge came a deep-throated roar. A man emerged-or seemingly a man, though larger than any man could possibly be. Noph started back from the figure in horror. Like Artemis's first creation, the forge-made man was only half finished. Veins and blood vessels twisted together with muscle uncloaked by flesh. Bones appeared in some places but were hidden in others. The figure screamed, a high-pitched yell of pain and horror, then lunged forward at one of the hooded figures and bore it to the floor. His massive hands, flesh and muscle shredding from them, locked around the false worshiper's throat. The forge's unholy light continued to blaze and flare. More creatures emerged, horrid mockeries of men and animals, their bodies twisted and crushed. Some could barely move, but crawled forward on knees or stumps of legs not fully grown. One, a mere head and torso, wriggled helplessly backward and fell into the lake with a splash. Another, a skeleton from the waist up but with the lower limbs of a man, seized a worshiper and bit cleanly through his neck before collapsing in a shapeless heap of bones. The cultists hacked and slashed at the deformed warriors, shouting encouragement to each other. [3]
"Can't you fix… that?" Noph asked the fighter, gesturing to Entreri's arm. Trandon shook his head. "There's something about it that defeats me. My magic won't take. It's part of him-what the forge has made of him." He looked at Entreri with something akin to pity and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm afraid that's going to be permanent." [4]
Trandon drummed his fingers for a moment in thought. His staff, which he'd evidently clutched when he fell, lay beside him. "All right," he sighed. "I was sent on this expedition by the Council of War Wizards of Cormyr." Trandon rubbed his chin in evident embarrassment. "To answer your second question first, I don't work for the War Wizards; I'm a member of the Council of War Wizards and have been for a number of years. Given the circumstances of Lady Eidola's kidnapping, that wasn't information I was anxious to spread about. I was at Piergeiron's wedding purely as a social courtesy, but as soon as his bride was stolen, I contacted other members of the council, and they agreed I should join the expedition to find her. "The council became concerned when Khelben determined that the kidnappers came from the Utter East and that a bloodforge was somehow involved. We had heard of these artifacts and their tremendous power, though no one on the council had ever seen one. Vangerdahast didn't want someone wielding that kind of power about Faerun without anyone keeping track of it." He paused and glared at Artemis, who looked back coolly without speaking. [4]
"The city drains," said Garkim in a low voice. "They reach into every part of Eldrinpar. "The Mar. In Eldrinpar, it is the Ffolk who live near the temples and palaces, and the Mar who remain apart from power and faith. To escape the scrutiny of the Ffolk, the Mar long ago learned to use the drains. Like maggots, they burrow beneath the city, and the Ffolk are none the wiser." [5]
if the followers of the Fallen Temple install the bloodforge." "They wish to summon Ysdar, a being of great power who comes from beyond this plane of existence. Some say he is no more than a name, a shadow to frighten children. But I believe he is real and is plotting to conquer all the Five Kingdoms." "And he can do that if he gets a bloodforge?" Noph asked. "According to most accounts of him, Ysdar already has a bloodforge. But a second would give him decisive power to command armies far greater than any that other kingdoms might bring against him. So we stand upon the sword's edge. The next few hours may decide whether my world stands or falls." Garkim fell silent and strode on. [5]
The smell of the sea grew stronger in Noph's nostrils. He realized they must be drawing near the dock area. All at once, the party reached the end of the narrow street they had been traversing and beheld before them the Great Sea and, glimmering in the sun, a temple. Before them was a broad plaza, along which were drawn several fishing boats. From the dock, a narrow causeway led across the water, perhaps fifty yards, to a building, constructed of black basalt, that sat amid the waves like a brooding spider. Garkim gestured toward it. "The Temple of Umberlee." [5]
Garkim hastily drew a robe over his head. "It must be the Rite of Investiture. We cannot allow this to happen!" He turned to the paladin. "Do you not see the terrible danger? Imagine those monsters of the Fallen Temple-the temple of your god Tyr-with the power of the bloodforge at their command! [5]
A figure stepped forward, red-robed, a silver circlet round his neck. From it dangled a medallion inscribed with designs that Noph could not clearly make out. The priest lifted his hands and face in appeal. "#1054; Mighty Ysdar, hear this day our prayer. Feel the power of our sacrifice. Join with us as we feast." In a circle of motion, he whirled, drawing a long, curved, cruel knife from beneath his robes. He slashed in one quick motion, lengthwise down the body of the victim, who gave a ringing scream of agony. The worshipers closest to the altar rushed forward, their bodies hiding the victim, whose screams grew fainter and finally died away. In a few moments, the crowd at the altar had cleared. The victim's body was no more than a shredded mass of flesh and bone. Some in the crowd were still wiping their mouths. [5]
"It's too heavy," Noph yelled to Kern above the din. "We can't lift it." The forge glowed malevolently, and Noph realized something with a shock. "It doesn't want us to lift it. It knows what it wants." [5]
The mage-king, Aetheric III. Again Sharessa heard the voice she'd heard before in the palace chambers when they were first attempting to steal the bloodforge. That seemed a lifetime ago. Then the voice had been beautiful, like a great organ playing on a thousand pipes. Now the voice had lost none of its timbre. It still resounded through the great hall of the Temple of Umberlee, and Shar could hear echoes of it floating across the water from the ruined city. But now the words it spoke were gibberish, the ravings of a mind released from sanity. With growing horror, she realized that the words she heard were not only in her ears but also in her mind, that Aetheric no longer distinguished between speech and telepathy. And as he spoke, she felt the madness and terror of that vast mind. We rise from the deep… We are the god of the deep and of the overworld… Blood is power; power is life; the bloodforge is life… Our beloved Doegan… why are you doing this?… Why are you doing this? There was a burst of insane laughter. Aetheric swung a great tentacled arm inside the temple. Artemis and Sharessa rolled one way, Kern and Trandon the other, the latter pulling with him the groggy Noph. The voice rose to a scream. We will have the forge… forged in blood, the blood of the people. We are the people; they serve us with their blood. .. the blood of the gods… Doegan, behold your god! [6] |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
Posted - 09 Apr 2023 : 21:07:13
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Easy Betrayals (1374 DR maybe 1371 DR)
By Richard Baker
"Old work, old human work," Rings replied softly. The dwarf ran his gnarled hand along the rotten plaster of the wall. "It's not the same construction as the rest of Aetheric's halls." "Ancient Mar stonework?" "It might be. It looks like the Mar ruins I've seen scattered around the Five Kingdoms." The dwarf tugged on an earring. "This feels like a funeral chamber of some kind." "Great. A crypt," Jacob remarked over his shoulder. [1]
The room beyond was magnificent, flanked by great statues of ancient warriors in long headdresses. A series of false arches carved in basrelief along the walls flanked the room, which was cluttered with mildewed banners, broken urns stained with redolent residue, old bronze weapons green with verdigris, and dozens of small casks and statuaries. In the center of the room stood a long, low pedestal supporting a stone sarcophagus, elaborately carved in the likeness of a handsome young man. Dust lay thick over the entire chamber. [1]
"I've heard it said that doppelgangers are limited in how much they can change their shape. Look for something more or less human-sized [1]
It was the image of an ancient warrior much like the others that stood guard over the sarcophagus, with a broad bare chest, a knee-length kilt, sandals, and a high headdress framing its stern face. Its hands gripped an oblong shield and a curving sword. [1]
the glyphs on the far wall- now an arcane, circular design-flashed with a crackle of energy and a peal of thunder. Where a blank stone wall had stood, a dark portal yawned. Wind howled forth, thick with the scent of dust and strange incense. [1]
Cold beyond cold, darkness seared Belgin's flesh, and then he was through the gate. His bold battle cry faltered in the teeth of a bitter, stinging wind that scoured him with dust and sand. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and blundered forward. Crumbling old stone walls surrounded him, and overhead a brown sky billowed and seethed with the weight of wind-borne dust. No sun pierced the sandy veil, but something in the quality of the light hinted at late afternoon, maybe sunset. Where on Toril are we? he thought. Grimacing, he laughed bitterly. I've said that all my life and never really meant it before. [2]
The ground was broken and rugged, heaps of uneven stone piled at random all around him. The walls seemed to form a large courtyard with rows of broken columns rising from drifts and skeletal fingers clawing up through the hissing, shifting sands. Beyond the old walls he gained glimpses of the dark bulk of neighboring structures, revealed and then hidden by the dust. No, not a courtyard, he decided. It's a great building, long since collapsed. I'm standing on the rubble of the roof. [2]
The vicious coughing fit left him helpless for several minutes, his chest aching abominably. Gasping for breath, Belgin tried to pretend he couldn't feel the rasp in his lungs. "Are you I’ll?" Miltiades asked, studying him closely. "He's from Edenvale," Rings answered for him. "What's that mean?" "It means that I'm dying," Belgin said weakly. "It's the damned bloodforges. Doegan has its fish scales… and lately the black malaise that incapacitated the warriors of the city. In Konigheim, it's a weakness of the will or the mind… everyone knows a Konigheimer who's snapped." "Some say Konigheimers have been known to grow a third eye. I don't know about that, though."
"Edenvale's curse is simple," Belgin continued. "We just die young. That's it. My father died at thirty three, my mother at thirty one. My grandsire, he lived to be forty-one. He was accounted lucky. Everyone pays the price for our kings' toys." [2]
"Tyr has the power to heal-" the paladin began. "Not this," Belgin interrupted. "It's a curse, a magical curse. Believe me, plenty of our priests have tried to undo the bloodforge's effects. I don't know of any who have succeeded." [2]
Belgin - "Thirty four. I guess all the time I spent at sea's been good for my health. I'd probably be dead by now if I'd stayed at home." [2]
The outer buildings seemed more intact than the central temple. Smaller and sturdier, some even retained their roofs. Beyond the ring of buildings there was a large open space and a crumbling wall that seemed to circle the whole set of ruins. Broken and buried in drifting sand, nothing but desolate sand and flat sheets of rock stretched out beyond the walls. After one deliberate circuit, they paused in the lee of the outer wall, considering their next move. "This place isn't a city," Rings observed. "There aren't enough dwellings or private buildings." "A temple complex or holy city, then," Miltiades said. "Deliberately removed from the mundane world, isolated as a retreat for worship and ceremony." "It would be appropriate for a city of the dead," the dwarf added. "The builders interred their kings and nobles in a sacred city far from the common folk. They could hide the tombs anywhere in Faerun with those magical gates." [2]
"The statues in the tomb we found were carved in the mode of ancient Netherese dress," Belgin said, tugging at his ear. "The runes and hieroglyphs marking the portal, they were Netherese as well. And I've seen a few faint traces of more hieroglyphs in walls sheltered from the wind. Besides… we're sitting in the middle of a desert. If these are Netherese ruins, I'd expect we're somewhere in Anauroch." Rings stared at Belgin. "What's a Netherese? And where in the Five Kingdoms is Anauroch?" The sharper shrugged. "I'm no expert, Rings. I'm just guessing. But Netheril was once a great empire ruled by mighty wizards, far to the northwest of the Five Kingdoms… fairly close to the homeland of these gentlemen, in fact," he said, nodding at Miltiades and Jacob. "A long time ago, the Netherese brought some kind of awful magical doom down on their heads, and their kingdom fell, only to be buried by the sand and rock of the desert called Anauroch." "I've traveled Anauroch before," Miltiades said. "I've never seen this particular place, but it feels right. How did you learn of these things, Belgin?" "I was given an unusual education." Belgin spread his hands with a disarming gesture. "I've read a hundred books and learned a thousand tales. But just as my old mentor predicted, I've wasted my learning on a life of iniquity, [2]
At the fringe of his vision he saw them now, brown and withered figures that approached in fluttering tatters of cloth and flesh. They were long dead, of course, silent phantoms with cruel talons and eyes that burned like witch fire. The first mummy reached him, clubbing its knotted fists down at his head. [3]
ancient frescoes that still held a hint of their color, showing cryptic scenes of bronze-skinned people in cotton kilts. Some fought in great battles; others worked in broad fields of grain; a few stood above the others conjuring mighty spells out of the air. [3]
"Aye. More portals," Miltiades agreed. "Where do they all go?" The sharper moved closer to the nearest portal and carefully brushed the dust from its circle of runes. He traced the inscription with one finger, whispering under his breath, then stepped back. "This one goes to Chessenta, I think. Or an old Mulhorese ruin that I've heard of that lies in that land." He moved over to the next one, scrutinizing it carefully. "Here's one that goes to a place called Myth Drannor. [3]
Belgin straightened and drew back his shoulders, a scowl settling over his round face. "What do you care?" he said sharply. "I'm exactly what you see-a pirate, a cutthroat, a dandy and a sharp. I take from those too weak or too stupid to defend themselves. I've stolen from kings and from beggars. I've killed good men and bad. I've reneged on my bargains, lied to those who trusted me, turned my back on those in need. Sometimes I've dared a deed worthy of a song, and more often I've murdered a song before it was born. That's who I am, paladin. If you don't like it, keep your judgments to yourself." Miltiades laughed quietly. "Fine. So how much do you know of magic?" "Only a smattering. I've knowledge of about a dozen spells, none suitable for battling a creature such as Eidola. Most of my magic is in illusion and charms." "How did a pirate come to learn the wizard's art?" Belgin straightened, a grimace of pain flitting across his face. "You'd be surprised at how far a little illusion magic goes at the card table, or at what a swindler can do with a simple charm." How's that for irony? he thought. I can't even take a shill without cheating somehow. He laughed again, his strength returning. "Besides, I wasn't always a pirate. I learned what I know years before I came aboard the Kissing Shark." Suddenly the pirate straightened, looking back toward the passage they'd descended. Something dragged softly on the stone steps above. [3]
Green-glowing eyes looked up at them as something clad in ancient bronze climbed toward them, a long glaive of emerald fire burning in its yellowed hands. More eyes glinted in the darkness beneath it. [3]
Jarin has served me well on many occasions. His knowledge of sorcery is impressive for one so young. Hell have the knowledge I seek. Before I crafted Eidola, Jarin was a persona I used quite often. It takes only a moment of concentration to shape the familiar features, the hawklike gaze, the handsome face. My mind takes the shape of his, and knowledge floods into my brain. I've forgotten how to disarm a swordsman with a twist of my wrist, I've forgotten how to mend damaged mail and how to kill with blows of my bare human fists-but I remember now the Art, and a dozen languages long forgotten, and the sensation of Mystra's weave gliding beneath the touch of my fingers and the force of my will. It might be the next best thing to my true self. A lightly built elf male [3,4]
The Hall of Swords. A portal leading to the heart of Undermountain! Who could have guessed that even in the depths of the Mad Mage's domain a Netherese lord sleeps? It's amazing that Faerun holds together, considering how it's been riddled with gates and conduits, portals and doorways from a dozen lost peoples. [3]
Thy hour is done, mortals. The creature's whisper rasped inside Belgin's mind like the husk of a dead insect. No man may walk the streets of Ularith and live to tell the tale. "Stand aside, ancient one," said Miltiades firmly. "Our mission here does not aggrieve the dead of Ularith. We seek a fugitive who has fled to this place, and we shall leave the instant we have captured or slain her. Do not hinder us in our mission." [4]
This is my second life, Belgin. I first lived in the service of Tyr more than six hundred years ago, in the days when Phlan was young. I met my death then, in battle against the enemies of my god. But Tyr saw fit to call me back to his service as an undead warrior. Three times I rose from my crypt to quest for Tyr, only to return to my sleep when my mission was accomplished. But at the end of my last quest, Tyr rewarded my service by restoring me to life again. I have lived now five years since that day." Belgin shuddered despite himself. "You're six hundred years old?" "Six hundred and fifty five, I suppose. But hundreds of those years passed unknown to me as I slept in death, awaiting Tyr's next call." [4]
Miltiades gaped in amazement. "Halaster the Mad? This can't be!" "It actually translates as 'The Domain of Haalvar the Mad,' [4]
Skullport
"Have you ever heard of the Unseen?" "Yes," the mage grated angrily. "Do you know where they can be found?" "No." "Feel free to respond in something besides monosyllables," Belgin said wryly. "Do you know of any way we could find them?" "Yes." Miltiades snorted. "So how can we find them? What's the best way?" Struggling to resist, the mage winced and tried to mumble. The lasso of truth dragged her words forth. "There is an alehouse called the Broken Pike, several hundred yards up the street. In the back room, a man named Marks buys and sells stolen baubles. He only pretends to be a fence, though; in truth he is a doppelganger who keeps his ear to the corsairs' tales. I know that he reports to others. Apply this damned lasso to him, and hell have to lead you to the Unseen." "How do you know this?" Belgin asked suspiciously. The woman glared at him. "I've used my magic on their behalf from time to time. Marks is the man I dealt with, and he paid me well." [5]
"The girdle was a magical bond that locked Eidola into her human shape and personality. As long as she wore it, she could work no evil. If she wears it no longer, there's no telling where she could go or what she could do." She frowned, thinking. "You'd better tell me what happened after you arrived in Doegan." "The Blackstaff and I have known of Eidola's true nature for several months now," she said, glaring at Belgin over the shining blade of the rapier. "We keep a close eye on anyone who gets close to Piergeiron, and we spotted her as soon as she made her move against the Open Lord." "Why didn't you stop her then?" Miltiades demanded. "What kind of game were you playing with your father's life, girl?" "We didn't strike at her because she possesses a hold of some kind on my father's mind, perhaps even his very soul. We feared that slaying her would kill the Open Lord, too. And if she does hold his soul in her hands, my father would not only be dead but destroyed utterly. We couldn't take the chance." A hint of uncertainty flickered across her proud, confident features. "Khelben and I decided that we had to render Eidola harmless if we couldn't move against her openly. The Blackstaff crafted a girdle of righteousness to bind Eidola. It prevented her from working harm against the Open Lord, or anyone else for that matter, and held her in the shape she currently wore. She couldn't have removed it herself." "I don't know how she did it, but I think that Eidola trapped some portion of his soul within the prison of a soul gem," Aleena answered. "It shouldn't be possible. These devices wrest the victim's soul from his body altogether, destroying him utterly. But Khelben and I can think of no other enchantment that might allow Eidola to hold my father's life in her hands." She gently reached up to push Belgin's rapier from her neck. "Miltiades, every minute we waste places my father in greater danger. Please, we have to catch her quickly." [5]
The paladin turned his attention from Aleena to Belgin, the same measuring gaze in his eyes. He held up a silver chain, with a pendant in the shape of a harp suspended from it. "We found this beneath your shirt as we worked to save your life. What business do the Harpers have here, Belgin?" Belgin closed his eyes and sighed. "Hundreds of years ago, when the Ffolk first came to the lands that would become the Five Kingdoms, there was a bard named Dereth Caelwindar among them. He was one who wore the Harp in the Moonshaes, and he followed the Ffolk to the Utter East and settled in Edenvale. Learning that he was thousands of miles from his brothers and sisters, he decided to continue the tradition as best he could. When he felt his years gaining on him, he selected a young lass to learn the ways of the Harp. Generation after generation, each Harper passed his lore and knowledge to an apprentice, keeping the tradition alive." "Amazing," breathed Aleena. "Who could have known?" "Almost twenty years ago, Lady Jaele Serwid chose me to carry on in her footsteps," Belgin continued. He attempted a wry smile. "I fear that I was not much of student. I was certain I had better things to do than carry a torch for a secret brotherhood centuries dead, and I was always quicker to look out for myself than for others around me. I might carry the Harp, Miltiades, but I've never been a Harper." [5]
Rings smiled and tugged at a silver band that pierced his eyebrow. "I got better, as they say. Years ago I found this enchanted ring in a mage's tower. It takes time, but the dweomer repairs any injury that doesn't kill me instantly. I never needed it as badly as I did a few hours ago, that's for certain." [5]
"You know, Miltiades, Jacob must have been a doppelganger all along. He turned on Rings before we returned to Skullport, so he must have been replaced before we set off in pursuit of Eidola." The paladin crouched by the imposter's body. In death, he still resembled the blond-haired fighter he'd pretended to be; only the great blade of bone that grew from his forearm, a clever mimicry of a sword, marked him as a shapeshifter. "They must have overcome him the first time we were here," he said quietly. "I never suspected. How did he hide his evil from me? That should be impossible." "Greater doppelgangers can do that," Aleena said quietly. "We had plenty of time to study Eidola. When she wore the Eidola's shape, she was Eidola Boraskyr. In her mind, in her thoughts, she was a perfect mimicry. If the doppelganger that replaced Jacob was one of her kind, he could defeat virtually any test that might reveal his true nature." [5]
I'm going to need a scorecard soon to keep track of the roster changes, Belgin thought absently as they followed Marks through the streets of Skullport. First there were the seven of us, the Sharkers. Then Belmer, who was actually Entreri, killed Kurthe. Brindra perished, fighting the fiends. Anvil was struck down by the doppelganger masquerading as Jacob-even though we didn't know that at the time. That pup Noph joined us, and we lost him beneath the mage-king's palace. Rings and I followed Miltiades and Jacob after Eidola… then we lost Rings and Jacob in the city… then Jacob found us, and left us again, as we found Aleena… and now, finally, Jacob is dead and Rings is here again. He rubbed his eyes, realizing suddenly that he couldn't remember the last time he had slept. [5]
The small fence scowled angrily. "We're here. You want that warehouse." At Belgin's doubtful expression, Marks sighed and went on. "We don't have a headquarters or a fortress, you idiots. We don't need much more than a few safehouses and meeting places. You'll want the side door; the front door leads to nothing but an empty storage room." The four interlopers withdrew to the shadows of a dismal alley across the street from the ramshackle structure Marks had indicated. It seemed innocuous enough, one more disused old building in a town full of them. Miltiades frowned, thinking. "Anything else we should expect?"
"There's a second structure inside the first. In the space between the buildings there are two leucrotta, unchained to roam the building. They'll attack any who don't respond with the correct password. The inner door is marked by a very dangerous glyph, and the room beyond is guarded, usually by four or five doppelgangers in human guise." Marks winced and muttered, trying to resist the rope's compulsion, but he continued despite his efforts. "If there's anyone important here, expect more guards." "Tell us the password and the name of the glyph," Aleena said. " 'Derzhim haalva,'" Marks replied. "The glyph is cirr." [5]
"A soul gem," Aleena gasped. "I thought as much!" "Good," sneered Eidola. "Then you know that if I shatter it, that portion of your father's soul that I've trapped within is destroyed forever. Take another step, Miltiades, and I smash this thing. You'll bring me in to face your justice, but Piergeiron Paladinson will be condemned beyond any hope of resurrection. Do you understand me?" Quick as thought, Belgin flipped a knife from his sleeve and threw it underhanded. The silver blade turned once before striking Eidola in her midriff. It was a small wound to the doppelganger, nothing more than a pinprick, but Eidola recoiled and gasped in pain, losing her spell. "No!" she shrieked. In her hand, the soul gem blazed silently to an unbearable splendor. In one brilliant flash of supernal radiance, it seared the vision from Belgin's eyes and set him to blinking furiously. In his ears, Eidola's shriek of rage grew great and dark as a storm, surrounding him in spite and anger-and then it was gone. When he could see again, Eidola stood still as a stone, her face frozen in a cold and fierce rage. She still held the soul gem clenched in her fist, but all color had been bleached from her body, leaving her white and pure as marble. Between her alabaster fingers, the diamond glittered coldly. "Aleena? What happened?" whispered Miltiades. Shaken, the Waterdhavian mage approached and peered into Eidola's contorted features. "I believe she trapped herself inside the gem," she said slowly. "I-I have seen this before. It's a devious device, and it can strike any who stand near when its power is invoked." "Is she dead?" asked Rings. "If only it were that simple," Aleena replied. Carefully, she reached out to open Eidola's hand and remove the stone, but the doppelganger's fingers refused to yield. "The soul gem destroys, yes, but in some way it also preserves what it takes in its crystalline depths. Eidola is somewhere within." [6]
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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TBeholder
Great Reader
2427 Posts |
Posted - 10 Apr 2023 : 11:51:34
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quote:
Originally posted by Gary Dallison
Mortal Consequences (c.-700 DR)
By Clayton Emery
Iron Mountains
A storm rushing over the Iron Mountains pelted them with snow (Iron Mountains south of Netheril possibly south of the Barren Mountains????) [2]
shaggy beasts like upright cattle. Horns jutted from the sides of their heads, and from some dangled tiny bells on leather thongs that jingled. These cow-beings possessed the bleached skulls along the trail, then. Their long hands bore blunt, black nails, and all carried curved wooden staves. Surprised by her rush, a yak-man shrank back to aim the end of his staff. Knucklebones gave him no chance. Doubling her fist of brass knuckledusters, she slammed the yak-man hard on the nose. [2]
I seek the Sons of Baltar. I have-something to give Drigor. [3]
We own little here in the Iron Mountains, we Sons of Baltar. Scanty food, iron used up, little coal to burn. So, for generations now, our children are our resource. We train our sons and daughters to war, and send them into the world of men to fight as soldiers and bodyguards. Many never return to this, our ancestral home. [3]
Drigor, son of Yasur [3]
We conserve food and fighters because of yak-men. What you saw yesterday was another scout party. The yak-men covet our mountains. They push in from the east, and we are busy killing them. This takes food, and we have barely enough to feed ourselves.[3]
The elk and goats did not climb as high this autumn, and even the high-dwelling chamois have moved to lower meadows to scratch moss. Scouts tell us the lichen and gorse is thin on the highest peaks, and not recovering from their graze. [3]
yak-men press in from the east, outside the empire. I wonder if they too find their land can't support them. [3]
Deep in the Iron Mountains, Drigor and Cholena, his sometimes wife [6]
Ayaz died for nothing? And Ridon and Nodin [6]
"We must defend our homeland," Cholena chided. "The Sons of Baltar have inhabited these mountains for centuries. It's-" "Aye, centuries," Drigor interrupted, "but not forever, not since the first dwarf sprang from a glacier by the breath of Igashum. I've lived here all my life, three centuries, but my father, Yasur, came from the Rampant Mountains, which tall men call Gods' Legion. [6]
Cappi and Pullor and Oredola, young dwarves [6]
Cholena slain by the flint demon. Cholena, who'd given him a son years ago [6]
we once saved you from yak-men in White Owl Pass. [15]
"Iron Mountains" far to the South are Galuil Mountains in Ulgarth.
So, it's in the trilogy, but East of Durpar rather than around Netheril? Those yikaria could just arrive from Zakhara by sea (and Surbar - Dralpur road). |
People never wonder How the world goes round -Helloween
And even I make no pretense Of having more than common sense -R.W.Wood
It's not good, Eric. It's a gazebo. -Ed Whitchurch |
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Gary Dallison
Great Reader
United Kingdom
6361 Posts |
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Novel Lore
