Mortimer leaves the forge after a week of hard labour, Tabitha trailing behind him. He is covered in soot and smoke and smells like an Orc but he clearly looks pleased. He is cradling his scythe in his arms, almost like a proud father.
It looks almost the same as usual, but is missing the Telephos paraphernalia. Instead, the blade has a simple design on it and some words etched into the metal. You figure it's in Orcish
He trots to Talisas workspace, not bothering to bathe or change.
"Talisaaaa"
Mortimer puts on his best puppy dog face, which in this case looks like a puppy dog trying to decide if it wants to vomit or fart. Lets humour him and call it cute.
"Talisssssaaaaaaa!"
Talisas frown could strip paint off wood
"What? What do you wa-"
Mortimer interrupts her by abruptly whipping his scythe around, presenting Talisa with the handle
"Make this maaaagic, Talisssaaaaaa~"
Talisa is clearly busy, and views this olfactory assault with displeasure.
"I have work to do, I don't have time to-"
Mort cuts her off
"Maaaaagic! I have money, I know that helpssssss"
Talisa probably decides that just nodding and agreeing is the fastest way to get rid of the smell
"Fine, put it over there. I'll do it whe-"
"You need to whisper its name to it allll the time when you make it, Talisssaaaaa"
He clearly enjoys saying her name
Talisa waves a hand dismissively
"What? Yes, sure, whatev-"
"It is called 'Mothers Kissssss'. It needs to be born knowing its name, Talisssaaaaaa"
Talisa gives Mortimer her full attention for the first time
"What sort of idiotic na-"
Mort cuts her off again. His jovial tone has disappeared.
"It will be called 'Mothers Kiss' because it makes the bad things go away. Do this for me"
If Talisa responds, Mortimers back doesn't hear it
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
On the morning of the start of their journey to Tsar, Mortimer comes down stairs dressed for the first time in his newly modified plate.
Gone are the gentle curves and smooth edges. Instead, it has lots of flat surfaces and squared off edges, the whole suit having a sort of blocky, harsh look. It is a strange mix of crude and brutish, but still somehow savagely noble
On his front is the engraving of Shades' emblem, that of a profile of a crow, but stylised in a way that seems more Orcish. Its eye, over-large and right in the middle of Mortimers chest, looks to be inlayed with a holy symbol. Its a blue circle in which is a golden pentagon with 5 golden triangles spaced off each of the flat sides. It seems to represent the Sun.
On his shoulders and elbows, you can see sockets. The suit seems to be unfinished, and you figure he'll fit armour spikes at some later point.
As he walks away, you see runes and symbols carved into his backplate. They don't seem to invoke any actual power, more just an eclectic mix of symbols of a religious and planar nature representing strength and protection. You think Tabitha probably provided the symbols, but didn't have much say when it came to their arrangement.
Across the small of his back you see, in Orcish, the words "Mothers Embrace"
The overall effect, while not conventional, is pretty obvious to anyone who knows anything about religion, armour smithing or history
Here stands a Hellknight
Mortimers serious face.
Late in the afternoon, a slightly harried looking Tabitha roams
the castle, collecting Frey and the remaining members of the Great
Downwards Engineering Company. As a group, she leads you to the
dining hall.
You find Mortimer waiting inside, standing at the head of the table. He is leaning forward, his fists pressed against the timber, head bowed. Pieces of adamantite plate lie scattered across the floor and his scythe is embedded in the wall at a strange angle. His powerful frame is covered in little nicks and scratches and he smells strongly of smoke. It almost looks like he's been caught in an explosion of some sort. Considering he said he was only going to town a few hours back, you have no idea where trouble found him.
As you enter, he straightens and looks at you. Gone is his usual easy laugh and playful nature. Instead, his lips are pressed tight and his eyes betray both grief and a focused rage.
"Sit. Now is the time for listening. Questions come after."
Tabitha makes her way around the table and leans in the corner of the room opposite the door. She glares at you until you settle down.
Mortimer’s eyes unfocus for a moment or two. You can see him trying to gather his composure.
"I have played my cards close to my chest recently. I have been secretive and closed mouthed. This wasn't because of distrust. Nor was I attempting to deceive you. A soldiers first rule of war is 'Surprise is King'. A fist in the kidneys is better than a fist in the face after all. To that end, I have been gathering my strength and gaining allies as quietly as I could. I had intended to let Orcus underestimate us, and make him bleed for his mistake. I fear I have instead possibly underestimated him"
Mortimer stops to gather his thoughts, rubbing absent-mindedly at a gash on his forearm.
"Today, two things of import happened.
Firstly, I travelled to the Heavens and reaffirmed vows I took secretly a long while ago. In short, I have taken an Archon known as Balthazar as my Patron. In his name, I will start an Order. This Order will have two objectives. Firstly, it is going to be dedicated to the reclaiming of this land from the bandits, the goblins, the undead, and any other dirty little creature that wishes us harm. It will also be dedicated to the destruction of Rappan Athuk. I am going to bathe this land in blood, and from that fertilised soil civilisation will grow."
"Secondly, I have troubling news. I traded the Mantle of Faith to my Patron for the return of Shades. I don't understand the process they used to try to bring him back, but it involved some sort of construction artefact. I watched as they tried to revive him. They spun him a new body. I could see him hanging there in the air. All that was left to happen was for his spirit to rejoin it."
He rubs the heel of his hand into his eye tiredly
"Instead, the artefact exploded. Shards of it flew everywhere, injuring many. The fabricated body was utterly destroyed. Noone could tell me why that happened, but from the questions they were asking I think it was the rejoining process that caused the destruction. Whether Shades' spirit is lost to us because of where he died, or whether it is because Orcus intervened as revenge for the destruction of the temple, I don't know. All that is clear is that Shades might be beyond our reach"
Mortimer slowly levers himself down into the chair. Tabitha comes up behind him and softly, almost tenderly, starts working her magics on his wounds.
"If you have questions, now is the time to ask. Except you Laniss. I might be able to deal with your questions tomorrow"
-------------------------
tldr; Mort has an Archon as a patron. Mort traded the mantle to his patron for a true rez for Shades. The rez didn't work, probably because Orcus is a dick.
You find Mortimer waiting inside, standing at the head of the table. He is leaning forward, his fists pressed against the timber, head bowed. Pieces of adamantite plate lie scattered across the floor and his scythe is embedded in the wall at a strange angle. His powerful frame is covered in little nicks and scratches and he smells strongly of smoke. It almost looks like he's been caught in an explosion of some sort. Considering he said he was only going to town a few hours back, you have no idea where trouble found him.
As you enter, he straightens and looks at you. Gone is his usual easy laugh and playful nature. Instead, his lips are pressed tight and his eyes betray both grief and a focused rage.
"Sit. Now is the time for listening. Questions come after."
Tabitha makes her way around the table and leans in the corner of the room opposite the door. She glares at you until you settle down.
Mortimer’s eyes unfocus for a moment or two. You can see him trying to gather his composure.
"I have played my cards close to my chest recently. I have been secretive and closed mouthed. This wasn't because of distrust. Nor was I attempting to deceive you. A soldiers first rule of war is 'Surprise is King'. A fist in the kidneys is better than a fist in the face after all. To that end, I have been gathering my strength and gaining allies as quietly as I could. I had intended to let Orcus underestimate us, and make him bleed for his mistake. I fear I have instead possibly underestimated him"
Mortimer stops to gather his thoughts, rubbing absent-mindedly at a gash on his forearm.
"Today, two things of import happened.
Firstly, I travelled to the Heavens and reaffirmed vows I took secretly a long while ago. In short, I have taken an Archon known as Balthazar as my Patron. In his name, I will start an Order. This Order will have two objectives. Firstly, it is going to be dedicated to the reclaiming of this land from the bandits, the goblins, the undead, and any other dirty little creature that wishes us harm. It will also be dedicated to the destruction of Rappan Athuk. I am going to bathe this land in blood, and from that fertilised soil civilisation will grow."
"Secondly, I have troubling news. I traded the Mantle of Faith to my Patron for the return of Shades. I don't understand the process they used to try to bring him back, but it involved some sort of construction artefact. I watched as they tried to revive him. They spun him a new body. I could see him hanging there in the air. All that was left to happen was for his spirit to rejoin it."
He rubs the heel of his hand into his eye tiredly
"Instead, the artefact exploded. Shards of it flew everywhere, injuring many. The fabricated body was utterly destroyed. Noone could tell me why that happened, but from the questions they were asking I think it was the rejoining process that caused the destruction. Whether Shades' spirit is lost to us because of where he died, or whether it is because Orcus intervened as revenge for the destruction of the temple, I don't know. All that is clear is that Shades might be beyond our reach"
Mortimer slowly levers himself down into the chair. Tabitha comes up behind him and softly, almost tenderly, starts working her magics on his wounds.
"If you have questions, now is the time to ask. Except you Laniss. I might be able to deal with your questions tomorrow"
-------------------------
tldr; Mort has an Archon as a patron. Mort traded the mantle to his patron for a true rez for Shades. The rez didn't work, probably because Orcus is a dick.
Of Gods and Guns
The Iron Mountains, named after the rich iron veins they harbour, are amongst the Stoneheart Valley’s mightiest mountain ranges. They surround the flat basin of Aberdeen, and provide a very effective geological barrier from the rest of Golarion- fairly convenient for the arguably xenophobic nation. The zeniths of these mountains are forever sheathed in rime, and usually obscured from the naked eye unless the climate is exceptionally fair. The Aberdeenians’ xenophobia is almost understandable, as it is hard to imagine anything good descending from those looming peaks.
It is here, where the fog and wind, the heavy rains and violent electric storms dash themselves across these jagged earthern teeth, where the Tengu dare to build the monasteries dedicated to their unique arts.
Unlike the Aberdeenians living below the cloud cover, whose lives are spent scrabbling for and fretting over their lipservice to Abbadar, the Tengu do not dedicate their lives to any one deity of the Stoneheart pantheon. Traditional Tengu beliefs are instead steeped in a kind of animism, where any part of the world- natural, supernatural, artificed or otherwise- can be said to house a spirit of variable power.
In this light, the gods of the Valley are spirits of immense power, but still just a single spirit within a multiverse made entirely of spirits and matter. A religious Tengu may pray to the spirit of a particularly old local tree, perhaps to encourage it to grow more fruit, just as often as any god of the seasons or fertility. Some of the more enterprising and/or desperate birds may attempt to curry favour with one god by declaring their devotion to them, even enacting the same rituals as the most fervent of believers, only to later shift their allegiance when their circumstances or desires have changed. Some even turn the worship inwards, praying to the spirit that animates their mortal frame so that it may do better next time.
Now not every Tengu is so wildly superstitious. However this peculiar outlook on life, where gods and monsters and everything in between are essentially made of the same stuff, is still fairly prevalent in their culture and practices. And so we turn our eye back to the Tengu monasteries.
The most striking feature of these structures, aside from the dizzying height at which they’re built, are the several long thin metal tubes set upright into their highest roofs. These tubes are actually the metal bores used to construct Tengu firearms, placed there in hopes of attracting one of the weather spirits outside. Tengu traditionally feel a kinship for spirits of the air- birds, winds, clouds and fog- but the thunder spirits are the most coveted for firearms. A metal bore that survives a lightning strike is said to have been chosen by the thunder, and whatever damage the bore sustained is decorated with charms to keep the spirit housed there. Such a piece is considered supremely valuable to the monastery, becoming the base component for a masterwork or even magical weapon. It also goes some way in explaining the disastrous misfires these weapons are infamous for.
A real world analysis of the standard spells of the Vancian college:
A concise guide to spells by Laniss, Mage Ascendant of the Stoneheart Valley.
Cantrips:
Acid Splash-Limited range, minimal damage, no long term effect. Has some value as a defence of last resort, but rarely worth the effort.
Arcane Mark-Useful means of marking property (or persons) for later divination or conjuration. Has applications for disguising runic traps or for cowing weak minds.
Bleed-Cause an already dying opponent to bleed out. If I need to explain all the ways that is moronic, please put this book away and find yourself a sword, you are not ready to explore the arcane arts.
Breeze-May be useful in crossing a desert, but there are better solutions. In most other cases, it's applications are far to niche to be worth the effort.
Dancing Lights-With a creative mind, this spell can be put to great use. The spell can only be maintained for a limited duration, but it should be more than enough for most, however it is not particularly effective as a conventional light source.
Daze-Has value when dealing with the weakest of minds, but even they will not be fooled long. Can be useful in certain market places, if an appropriate partner can be found.
Detect Magic-Mandatory. If you cannot understand why, again I refer you to the nearest armourer's workshop.
Detect Poison-Can be useful in certain social situations (and has in fact saved my life on a number of occasions). Outside of those, the time to cast it can be better spent. When in doubt, assume poison and react with appropriate prejudice.
Disrupt Undead-Useful for incautious young necromancers and those exploring tombs for useful relics, but I personally find holy energy difficult to focus, and therefor rather lacking in raw damage. Better abandoned once one grasps the higher mysteries of the arcane.
Drench-I once had an apprentice use this spell on a spellbook of mine he had inadvertently lit on fire. The fire was successfully extinguished, as was his future at the academy.
Flare-You could just as easily flash a mirror in someone's eyes. Do not waste your talent on such trivialities.
Ghost Sound-A truly powerful spell in the hands of a creative mind. Can be paired with other illusions, can be used to lure opponents into a trap, to entertain, the possibilities are endless...
Haunted Fey Aspect-I watched a classmate use this spell to defend himself from thugs he failed to manipulate. Two of them looked rattled, but the leader decided to press the attack. His death serves as a good example.
Jolt-See Acid Splash
Light-A staple. Will save you the trouble of keeping a candle burning while you study, and has applications that run from exploration to misdirection.
Mage Hand-Supremely useful. From setting off traps to aiding in lab work, this spell will save you plenty of legwork.
Mending-When you work with delicate equipment or witless thugs, it pays to be able to repair things with a minimum of fuss.
Message-An excellent way to pass messages, weather in a king's court or a dragon's lair.
Open/Close-Useful for the wary or those who wish to make an entrance. A worthwhile spell, but there are others likely to grant greater rewards.
Penumbra-Unless you find yourself working with someone who suffers under bright light (or you are yourself so afflicted) this spell is of little value. But in those cases, it may alleviate discomfort.
Prestidigitation-An immeasurably useful spell. From keeping you wardrobe clean, to creating paperweights on the fly, to ensuring you look appropriately dramatic when confronting common folk, this spell should always be available to you. As a matter of fact, I regularly make use of it to cover up the unfortunate odors of a number of my traveling companions.
Ray of Frost-Like Acid Splash or Jolt, a minor attack spell. Rarely worth the effort.
Read Magic-Yes.
Resistance-A minor defensive aid, but a useful one. Also a cornerstone of defensive item crafting.
Root-Situationally useful, but if you know in advance you will be fighting a foe who utilizes such tactics, this spell can be helpful.
Scoop-Buy a bottle, use Mage Hand.
Spark-Useful utility. No longer worry about carrying a flint or needing a taper to light your study. If applied creatively, can also have combat applications.
Touch of Fatigue-Any spell that forces you into reach of your enemies is a spell better left alone.
A day in the death of Mortimer
And with one last whack of Ambros' Earth-breaker, The Arch-Wizard Mortimer hits the floor
--------------------------------------------
Francis takes Mortimer by the elbow and leads him away from the Line of Judgement.
"We need to stop meeting like this, Mortimer"
"Well, I keep dying" Mortimer said sheepishly
"So I've seen" Francis flexed his shoulders, showing off his newly gained finery. "I've gained a lot of assets on this plane recently. What do you need, in order to do this a bit more successfully?"
"Uhmmmm," Mortimers brow crinkled in concentration "what can you give me?"
"How about a regiment of troops? I'm sure you can find a use for them"
"Hobgoblins? Hobgoblins are good!" Mortimers eyes lit up
"Hobgoblins are good" Francis agreed. "Tabitha seems to be settling in well. I'm sure she could make something out of them"
Mortimer grinned for a moment, before suddenly remembering something
"Oh! I have something you might be interested in"
"Yes?" Francis raised an eyebrow
"A powerful unholy sword, taken from an anti-paladin I killed"
"Yes, I saw that. You do me proud. To be honest, there isn't much of a market for one of those. If you sold it with the shield though, I might be able to find someone"
"Oh" Mortimer looked a bit crestfallen
"They're a matched set." Francis shrugged slightly. "People would be interested in relics of this pedigree. The paladins essence still clings to them, you see. If you're intent on selling them, let me give you some money for them and I'll go find a buyer"
Mortimers brow crinkles again "I'll have to talk to the party about it. I'm not sure the dwarf would be interested in letting go of that shield"
"Yes, that dwarf" Francis sighed "Well, let me know. I presume your comrades are going to bring you back?"
"Yea, I think so"
"Good. You can do this the old fashioned way this time then. I'll talk to you soon, 'Lawbringer'"
--------------------------------------------
Francis takes Mortimer by the elbow and leads him away from the Line of Judgement.
"We need to stop meeting like this, Mortimer"
"Well, I keep dying" Mortimer said sheepishly
"So I've seen" Francis flexed his shoulders, showing off his newly gained finery. "I've gained a lot of assets on this plane recently. What do you need, in order to do this a bit more successfully?"
"Uhmmmm," Mortimers brow crinkled in concentration "what can you give me?"
"How about a regiment of troops? I'm sure you can find a use for them"
"Hobgoblins? Hobgoblins are good!" Mortimers eyes lit up
"Hobgoblins are good" Francis agreed. "Tabitha seems to be settling in well. I'm sure she could make something out of them"
Mortimer grinned for a moment, before suddenly remembering something
"Oh! I have something you might be interested in"
"Yes?" Francis raised an eyebrow
"A powerful unholy sword, taken from an anti-paladin I killed"
"Yes, I saw that. You do me proud. To be honest, there isn't much of a market for one of those. If you sold it with the shield though, I might be able to find someone"
"Oh" Mortimer looked a bit crestfallen
"They're a matched set." Francis shrugged slightly. "People would be interested in relics of this pedigree. The paladins essence still clings to them, you see. If you're intent on selling them, let me give you some money for them and I'll go find a buyer"
Mortimers brow crinkles again "I'll have to talk to the party about it. I'm not sure the dwarf would be interested in letting go of that shield"
"Yes, that dwarf" Francis sighed "Well, let me know. I presume your comrades are going to bring you back?"
"Yea, I think so"
"Good. You can do this the old fashioned way this time then. I'll talk to you soon, 'Lawbringer'"
Tabitha
"By Orcus's ball-sack, that better not be Castle Calaelen!"
Minty looks back at Tabitha in confusion, but soon gets distracted by another tuft of grass.
Tabitha slowly draws in a breath, holds it for a moment, then slowly lets it out again. "A promise is a promise. Come on you mangy mongrel, lets get going"
With a loving pat, Tabitha and Minty make their way towards their new home
Sitting high on her horse, Tabitha strikes an odd figure. She's slightly shorter than an average woman and rather plain looking. Her soft brown eyes match her shoulder length brown hair, and her slightly tanned face is neither particuarly attractive or repellant. You'd normally describe her as forgettable, if it wasn't for the uneasy feeling you get around her - that it would be best to keep an eye on her the way you would with a "domesticated" wolf.
Her towershield is clearly finely crafted, but unadorned. Her set of spiked fullplate however, is covered in various lines, shapes and spirals embossed in the surface which appear chaotic at first glance, but those with an understanding of mathematics (decent engineering or arcana score) work out that they are an artistic expression of various formulae. Despite her heavily armed appearance, she doesn't appear to be carrying any weapons.
A soft spoken woman, she is generally polite and well mannered. Despite this, you know that while she bends easily, it would take a lot to break her.
Her spellcasting is clearly her cathartic release. She yells abuse and insults, and screams in rage.
Bless
"You fight the way my Grandmother shits. ALL OVER THE PLACE AND WITH NO ENTHUSIASM!"
"Make him BLEEEEEED you worthless swine!"
"Run away and I will CUT YOU!"
Cure Wounds
"Suck it up, you sugarplum"
"Unless you want worse, stop your bitching"
Heat Metal
"I hope I set your pubes on fire!"
"BUUUURRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNN!" *roared*
Mend
"Fucking idiots, breaking their fucking stuff. I'm tempted to break their fucking heads. I'm not some lowly fucking craftsman" *mumbled under breath*
Minty looks back at Tabitha in confusion, but soon gets distracted by another tuft of grass.
Tabitha slowly draws in a breath, holds it for a moment, then slowly lets it out again. "A promise is a promise. Come on you mangy mongrel, lets get going"
With a loving pat, Tabitha and Minty make their way towards their new home
Sitting high on her horse, Tabitha strikes an odd figure. She's slightly shorter than an average woman and rather plain looking. Her soft brown eyes match her shoulder length brown hair, and her slightly tanned face is neither particuarly attractive or repellant. You'd normally describe her as forgettable, if it wasn't for the uneasy feeling you get around her - that it would be best to keep an eye on her the way you would with a "domesticated" wolf.
Her towershield is clearly finely crafted, but unadorned. Her set of spiked fullplate however, is covered in various lines, shapes and spirals embossed in the surface which appear chaotic at first glance, but those with an understanding of mathematics (decent engineering or arcana score) work out that they are an artistic expression of various formulae. Despite her heavily armed appearance, she doesn't appear to be carrying any weapons.
A soft spoken woman, she is generally polite and well mannered. Despite this, you know that while she bends easily, it would take a lot to break her.
Her spellcasting is clearly her cathartic release. She yells abuse and insults, and screams in rage.
Bless
"You fight the way my Grandmother shits. ALL OVER THE PLACE AND WITH NO ENTHUSIASM!"
"Make him BLEEEEEED you worthless swine!"
"Run away and I will CUT YOU!"
Cure Wounds
"Suck it up, you sugarplum"
"Unless you want worse, stop your bitching"
Heat Metal
"I hope I set your pubes on fire!"
"BUUUURRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNN!" *roared*
Mend
"Fucking idiots, breaking their fucking stuff. I'm tempted to break their fucking heads. I'm not some lowly fucking craftsman" *mumbled under breath*
A fragment of Snookums' journal you found while snooping.
Thrag Stoneheart lived to 370 years and begat Uldor and Koth, after resettling the Stoneheart Valley;
and Koth the Hammer begat Booz and his brethren;
and Booz the Boozy begat Thamar and Izak;
and Thamar Giantsbane begat Krath and Horth, about the time of the Goat Cultists;
and Krath Wraithswrath begat Eron and his brethren;
and Eron the Relentless begat Narvi and Dain during a particularly wet winter;
and Narvi the Smith begat Balthor, Durin and Telchar;
and Balthor the Stout begat Revek, after returning from the Righteous March;
and Revek the Wizard begat Zarek and his brethren, as well as about 3,000 familiars;
and Zarek the Hulk begat Tharek, for he had a lisp;
and Tharek, called Doomcleaver by his army, begat Korg, Horg, Morg, Dorg, Lorg, Torg, Worg, Borg and Korg Junior, for he was both prodigious and unimaginative;
and Korg the Mighty lived to 357 and begat Egdod, who was heir to Korg's strength and wisdom, and Fusta, who was not;
and Fusta the Underwhelming begat Olrik, who wet the bed until he was 42;
and Olrik the Average begat Harrok and Grak, both disappointments to the Stoneheart clan during Bofred's lesser March;
and Grak begat [REDACTED], who was called Snookums by his nanny.
and Koth the Hammer begat Booz and his brethren;
and Booz the Boozy begat Thamar and Izak;
and Thamar Giantsbane begat Krath and Horth, about the time of the Goat Cultists;
and Krath Wraithswrath begat Eron and his brethren;
and Eron the Relentless begat Narvi and Dain during a particularly wet winter;
and Narvi the Smith begat Balthor, Durin and Telchar;
and Balthor the Stout begat Revek, after returning from the Righteous March;
and Revek the Wizard begat Zarek and his brethren, as well as about 3,000 familiars;
and Zarek the Hulk begat Tharek, for he had a lisp;
and Tharek, called Doomcleaver by his army, begat Korg, Horg, Morg, Dorg, Lorg, Torg, Worg, Borg and Korg Junior, for he was both prodigious and unimaginative;
and Korg the Mighty lived to 357 and begat Egdod, who was heir to Korg's strength and wisdom, and Fusta, who was not;
and Fusta the Underwhelming begat Olrik, who wet the bed until he was 42;
and Olrik the Average begat Harrok and Grak, both disappointments to the Stoneheart clan during Bofred's lesser March;
and Grak begat [REDACTED], who was called Snookums by his nanny.
Halliman's Diary
Though I was only a small boy at the time, I will never
forget the night of that storm. I’d
spent most of my 6 years on my family’s merchant ships but the storm was like
nothing I’d seen before, or since, and to this day it astounds me that
something so ferocious could spring so suddenly from the patterns of nature
without forewarning or precedent.
It started with winds that threw us far off course, grew to
swelling seas that rose around the small boat like mountains of brine and ended
with us dashing against unseen rocks, somewhere far off anywhere charted on my
parents’ many maps. The cycles of life
turn always and for all those aboard the ship except for me their part in the cycle
as living, breathing beings came to an end.
When the tribespeople found me washed up on that beach they
said it was the will of Jah that I should serve them through the forces of
nature, and while I don’t agree with the way they attribute such mundane human
motives to the forces of nature that rule us I believe the events of that night
had always been my destiny. However I was
not the only one on that island (a place called Jamaica that I’d never heard of
before and that I still have trouble locating on a map) whose destiny was
shaped that night.
A girl was born into the tribe as my family died, a girl
with vivid blue eyes, despite everyone else in the tribe having skin and eyes
as dark as fertile jungle soil. Grand
Matron Guintalla said that the power of the storm had gone into this girl, and
like me she was favoured by Jah to wield the power of nature. They started training me in the ways of the
druid and from as soon as the girl, whom they named Kruin, was able to speak
they gave the same training to her.
It became quickly apparent that while the storm had given her
the power to manipulate elemental forces, its unexpected and unpredictable
nature had also become a part of her. I
know Guintalla found teaching her hard, with her tendency to violent outbursts
and frustratingly short attention span, but she persisted over the years,
feeling that it was the will of Jah that she continue.
I can’t remember when it became assumed that Kruin and I
would one day be married. Into her
adolescence she became all the more unpredictable and I can only wonder now if
the tribe became so keen to marry her to me in order to make controlling her my
responsibility and to leave the rest of them in peace. She’d taken to carrying around a large wooden
staff into which she’d carved the words ‘hitting stik’ and would thump anything
that angered her, which could be anything or anyone. After dozens of run ins with the end of the
stick I often wondered whether it might be better to meet one of her jolts of
lighting instead.
Despite my misgivings it was my destiny to marry her and 16
years to the day of the fateful storm that bought us both to the island we were
united. Our first night as husband and
wife was not what I had been led to expect and by the time I fled our hut I had
the letters ‘ittin’ permanently embossed onto my upper arm and to this day have
not managed to have them removed through healing. This set the tone for the next two years of
our married life.
Things changed one day when a group of pirates arrived on
our island. While my early years as a
child of merchant sailors had taught me to despise pirates the people of the
tribe, my people, were rather ambivalent to them, often trading with them for
things that couldn’t be produced on our island and giving them safe harbour
when it was requested. This group
contained a particularly obnoxious young fellow named Guilliame, who wore an outrageous
blue coat and overly fancy trousers that must have been stolen from some
decadent noble somewhere and seemed to me to be a complete waste of so much
good cotton and wool.
Kruin sadly took an interest in him at once and each night
they remained she returned to our hut later and later, smelling of rum when she
did and leading me to fear that our she may have compromised our marriage. The night before the pirates were due to
leave she failed to return at all. I
rose with the dawn furious, having not slept at all. I completed my daily meditations in the
uncharacteristic silence of our hut then marched out wanting to give my
cheating wife and this wretched villain a peace of my mind.
Sadly I was too late.
The pirates had gone during the night and Kruin with them, all that
remained was the corpse of Guilliame, stripped of his gaudy blue jacket and
pants. What happened between him and my
wife that drove her to kill him, and why his comrades allowed her to leave with
them, seemingly in peace, I do not know.
All I do know is that Kruin was gravely mistaken to leave our home, and
her destiny, in this way. I vowed to
find her and took passage on the next ship that passed by.
I returned to the lands where I was born as a grown man (and
found that no one seemed to have ever heard of the island of Jamaica, which
confused me) and searched high and low for my wife. My quest took me through strange cities and
amazing landscapes and bought me into contact with many mysterious people.
Over the course of a year many people I asked told me stories
of someone that could be her but each time they turned out to be false
leads. It was not until I reached the
city of Tarrens Junction that people spoke about someone who could be none
other than my dear distracted wife. They
spoke of a woman filled with anger, who threw lighting bolts and summoned waves
but was cursed with misfortune (the last surely being the effect of her denying
her destiny). It made me sad to hear
that she still maintained her uncontrolled ways, but my heart was filled with
joy that I would be reunited with her so soon.
I headed to the docks to seek passage to the village of
Zelkor’s Ferry, the nearest settlement to the crumbling castle I was told she resided
in. Whilst awaiting a ferry I was
approached by a gaudily dressed naval captain who asked me if I’d like to join
him in a game of cards whilst his men finished loading their ship. I don’t usually enjoy things that are left so
much to chance but I didn’t want to say no on an auspicious day such as this,
so sat down to a game.
As we played I explained to the captain and the others
involved the nature of my quest. “Your
wife is Kruin, of the Great Downwards Engineering Company?” he asked. “Why yes” said I, “do you know her?” “Know her?
We fought side by side in the fight against one of the most vicious
pirates of these waters!”
My heart leapt. I’d
heard she’d joined an adventuring party, but I’d also heard they were mostly
just interested in plundering gold from underground ruins. Was she truly fighting pirates? Perhaps she had learned inner calm and had
dedicated her energy to pursuing some noble cause after all. But then the captain continued to speak.
“Most disturbing fight I ever had, that one.” He said.
“I was sure I’d dealt the blackguard a killing blow and his body had
crumbled on the ground, but then out of nowhere I felt a blow that turned the
whole world red, then black. Turns out I
died somehow and it was only by the good graces of my employers that I’m sitting
hear to tell the tale.” He lifted up his
shirt to show me the pink scar that bisected his body from left shoulder to
right hip. “Weirdest thing about it was
this looks like a wound from some kind of great big axe, and the pirate didn’t
even have an axe. Only person with an
axe was…”
As his unfinished sentence settled awkwardly on my brain I
finally saw the clarity that had eluded me so long. Kruin was never going to meet her destiny,
was never going to get her passions under control and was never going to be the
steward of nature or the loving wife that she’d never wanted to be anyway. I didn’t board the boat to Zelkors Ferry,
instead getting passage to as near as anyone was going to where I guessed Jamaica. My destiny was my own and I was best without
Kruin making a mess of it.
Halliman
Snookums and the Holiest of Holies
The Gospel According to Snookums:
1 Verily was the queue for mine judgement long, as I deserveth. For I hath failed the Lord my God. 2Behind me lurketh the ghost of mine fallen foe. 3I rejoiced that mine companions hath triumphed.
2 Then appeareth unto me a Spectre of Life just passed. 2This ghost spake unto me "d'you wanna meet your god?" 3At first I resisted, suspecting Tempations of the Dark Ones. 4He saith again "c'mon, I'm taking you back anyway, just drop in and meet him first!" 5In my soul I knew this ghost meant not to mislead me, so I went.
3 Appeareth I did in the House of mine Lord. 2Surprise across Thine visage, mine Lord! Wer't Thou not expecting me? 3He spaketh unto me. The Heavens trembling at His powerful utterance "Um.... Hello?" 4I trembled, afear of mine Lord. Not sure of what to say I merely repeated Thine greeting. 5The Lord saith "Are you doing a great work, or something? Why are you here?" 6I fell silent before saying that a Spectre of Life had brought me here. 7The Lord replied "Oh right, Wizards. Those guys are weird." 8Verily they are, mine Lord.
4 It was at this time I noticed that he was alone, and consuming the fruit of the Hop. 2He saith: "Yeah, I don't much care for company. I usually only appear in front of crowds, not personal visits." 3"Do you have any, uh, questions for me before you go?" 4My Lord I hath so recently been deceased, I knew not what to ask of Thee. Upon mine mind was the Thaurissians of old, so I asked for thine wisdom. 5The Lord replied "The Thaurissians were a group of dwarves that lived 10,000 years ago. (6) They were a good sort, shame to see them go."
5 I could feel. I felt the Spectre returning for me. 2In a moment of selfishness, I asked if I had served mine God well. 3He looked briefly confused and spake unto me "Have you done anything in particular?" 4I said unto My Lord, my companions and I hath vanquished the Great Demon Azirax. 5He pondered and prompty spake "Oh. Right. That. Well, a solid B+ effort there."
6 A great weight lifted from my shoulders, and presently I could feel my life returning. 2He spake “I see you’re about to head back. Well then, take this and do something Good with your life!” 3And ye did He delivereth unto me a large nugget of Mithril ore, His most valued of metals. 4Oh bounteous joy! For mine Lord, I will bring Demons low and tear evil asunder. 5For mine is His power and glory to wield, 6I carry His name forth into the world once more.
Snookums and the Library of Tsar
From the Diary of Snookums
Day 93:
I’m still fuming about that dragon’s ruse. I nearly died in that fight against the goblin horde. I’m not mad at Kruin, hell I shouted at her to do it. None of us could have known how horribly it would backfire.
Since then I’ve removed the dragon’s cursed armour and placed it in the armoury at Calaelen. I hope one day to have the curse removed and keep it as a museum piece. What little remains of the Thaurissians needs to be preserved.
But first the most critical task of replacing my plate. I took stock of the equipment and materials in Calaelen and delivered an estimate of the time I would require to craft myself a set of plate, but Mayor Shades didn’t “want the goblins to die of old age”. His words, not mine. So now I find myself on the trail to Tsar, to visit a famed blacksmith and an even more famed enchanter. My battlescarred companion Agamemnon has business in Tsar too, so at least I am not alone for the travel. Still, while he is communing with his god I find myself with time to make these notes.
Agamemnon told me of the Great Library of Tsar, and I think I shall wile away the empty days in Tsar researching. I have been thinking of the Thaurissians of late, and the incident with my armour has only increased my thirst for knowledge. I seek answers not only of the history I visit, but also how this dragon came to be here, how it knew me from my sigil, and how I might remove such an evil creature from the material plane.
Day 94:
Aggy passed wind in our cabin today. I was not amused.
Day 95:
Arrival in Tsar. My companion swiftly departed, with but a mention of the nights lodgings. I found the master blacksmith and spent the day with him poring over the plate, making adjustments and taking measurements. He shall be done in the morning and I take it to the Enchanter’s residence. For now I reside in the Inn, waiting for Aggy to return.
Day 96:
I am sitting in the Great Library once again at my wit’s end. The books only date back to the last 5000 years of the Fourth Age. Within the books here there is no mention of the Thaurissians. I suspect no one alive other than myself and the dragon even recognise the name. There was that Glabrezu but I don’t believe I will be seeing him anytime soon.
I wonder how the dragon knows of them. Perhaps oral history from his family? Do dragons have family?? I will seek further information...
There is scant information about red dragons in this library, perhaps no one in the region has seen one and lived? Much of what I have learned of other dragons can be extrapolated, however.
- Red could not be more than 400 years old. Dragons continue to grow in size for over a thousand years, and the books give me an idea as to his age. We are now in the 1789th year of the Fifth Age, so how does he know about something that happened over 6000 years ago?
- He was obviously intelligent, and all dragons are magical. There is no way he didn’t know the true nature of what he was giving me. I will end this creature.
- Each colour of dragon is aligned with elements. They can breath bursts of destruction related to their colour. It’s not hard to expect that a red dragon relies on fire. ((NOTE: We’ll need some fire protection. Could the Wizard help here?))
- They are also immune to damage from their elements...
A lot to think about, I will be back tomorrow to search for more.
Day 97:
A fruitless morning at the library. I searched every relevant text, inquired with every academic who would listen and walked away with nothing more than I already knew.
The Thaurissians might as well not exist for all intents and purposes.
Ah, but my cousin! She started me down this path. Perhaps I can find where the ring originated. I will head to Tsar Temple to talk to her superior.
Day 97, Evening:
Had a chat to Priest Hammerhaul of Mitra. He could only tell me that Bleer inherited the ring from her great uncle, a stalwart figure in our clan’s history. It’s beginning to look like this is a family tradition...
On a whim I asked for a tour of the Temple, and he had a deacon show me around. There was a library which I visited after the tour, and spent some time reading up on the religions that the temple has collected under one roof. I have been trying to get a feel for Bleer’s life here, to see if she ever did the disappearing act like me. It’s possible she never even realised what the ring does!
Day 98:
Picked up my armour today. It felt MAGICAL (haha). There’s something to be said for a full suit of steel plate. I certainly feel more mobile and steady than I ever did in that accursed thaurissian plate. I would love to copy the markings and sigils over to this plate when I get time, however. I picked up some supplies just for this, and some other odds-and-ends that the Forge needs back home. I also got Perret his own hammer, so that he stops abusing mine with his awful work!
Starting the journey home. I have a lot to ponder and hopefully discuss with Aggy.
Day 99:
Heavens above, what does this Orc EAT?!
Day 100:
Back in Calaelen. Apart from my new armour I am inclined to say this entire trip was a waste. I will keep my ear out for any more information about Thaurissians or Red dragons, but for now I appear to have reached a standstill.
Perhaps I will write to my family.
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