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Ruined Abode Clouds Truths
Losto eldarinwa Aralan sedho hodo tollen or nin beth ol
Somnolence Be, Elven Aralan, be still, lie still – come over you great dreams
(There is no direct elven translation into common for this 'sleep' lullaby when we refer to ourselves since we do not sleep as humans know it) We meditate deeply or 'trance' as some call it) But this is an approximation of the lullaby from the elvish.
I remember those words sung to me by Ada and Amme (Mother and Father). A nighttime lullaby they serenaded me with. How sweet their voices. Few knew that mother had a good voice too. Singing was always fathers domain. I still recite it before rest many nights.
We reposed after the climactic conclusion to the gladiator saga. I finished two books; one on Aencar the Mantled King and another on the history of bows. The Guild also granted access to tomes that held arcane secrets to turn manticore spikes into magical daggers.
While researching, we encountered a fine fellow at the guild named Draznor. He is half-elven and magic courses through his blood. He is a sorcerer. I immediately liked him. He reminded me of my dear half elven friend Illowyn and Galatad from my childhood.
After a few days of recovery (the glorious wonder of rest combined with divine healing) we decided to return to Elzid’s house. This time we entered covertly. The guard outside was doubled and rumor is that some Captain Litcus of the official Waterdeep Guard or something like that is after us. In the ruins we stumbled upon Erilyn Winfellow enspelled behind a desk in one of the chambers. She had come down searching for Elzid after the explosion. Somehow we broke the spell by disturbing her and she came around quickly. She corroborated that Elzid was changing his evil ways and said that the last thing she remembered was a sulfurous smell” This made sense given our discovery that 'Zotpox' is abyssal.
Several other searched rooms yielded little, but one held a chest. Caldair, as usual, checked for traps. He is brave that little Halfling. He found nothing, but the chest after we opened it ,released some sort of green noxious fumes that held a floating eye. Nothing good could come of that malodor. We ran out of the house and on our exit encountered Zotpox, an imp, who tried to beckon me to befriend him with a foul and dastardly magic. I fell not, for his sorcery. We escaped, covering our own tracks with an obscuring mist and roused not, any guards. We returned Erilyn home to her parents and were offered gold by her family for her return, but Draznor refused it. It locked in my like of him. The welfare of others concerns him greatly. I am glad he has agreed to join our company.
Soon thereafter, several of us took ill. I began coughing and on occasion spitting up green gas like the cloud in the ruined house of Elzid. Ayther said he knew an alchemist who might be of help. We visited Rellik, the alchemist. He was a fair man of few words but candid, and clear. He earned my respect and gratitude. He told us of a cure for what he believed afflicted us and told us where to get it. The remedy lay near a town called Hidden Gulch – the hometown of the brave, but small in stature, Caldair. There we could extract the needed herbs - banewort, root of shrieking mandrake, black peat bog tar, and deadly nightshade. These toxic herbs had to be harvested by following specific magic rituals, otherwise they would lose their potency. We headed out the next morning.
Losto eldarinwa Aralan sedho hodo tollen or nin beth ol
Somnolence Be, Elven Aralan, be still, lie still – come over you great dreams
(There is no direct elven translation into common for this 'sleep' lullaby when we refer to ourselves since we do not sleep as humans know it) We meditate deeply or 'trance' as some call it) But this is an approximation of the lullaby from the elvish.
I remember those words sung to me by Ada and Amme (Mother and Father). A nighttime lullaby they serenaded me with. How sweet their voices. Few knew that mother had a good voice too. Singing was always fathers domain. I still recite it before rest many nights.
We reposed after the climactic conclusion to the gladiator saga. I finished two books; one on Aencar the Mantled King and another on the history of bows. The Guild also granted access to tomes that held arcane secrets to turn manticore spikes into magical daggers.
While researching, we encountered a fine fellow at the guild named Draznor. He is half-elven and magic courses through his blood. He is a sorcerer. I immediately liked him. He reminded me of my dear half elven friend Illowyn and Galatad from my childhood.
After a few days of recovery (the glorious wonder of rest combined with divine healing) we decided to return to Elzid’s house. This time we entered covertly. The guard outside was doubled and rumor is that some Captain Litcus of the official Waterdeep Guard or something like that is after us. In the ruins we stumbled upon Erilyn Winfellow enspelled behind a desk in one of the chambers. She had come down searching for Elzid after the explosion. Somehow we broke the spell by disturbing her and she came around quickly. She corroborated that Elzid was changing his evil ways and said that the last thing she remembered was a sulfurous smell” This made sense given our discovery that 'Zotpox' is abyssal.
Several other searched rooms yielded little, but one held a chest. Caldair, as usual, checked for traps. He is brave that little Halfling. He found nothing, but the chest after we opened it ,released some sort of green noxious fumes that held a floating eye. Nothing good could come of that malodor. We ran out of the house and on our exit encountered Zotpox, an imp, who tried to beckon me to befriend him with a foul and dastardly magic. I fell not, for his sorcery. We escaped, covering our own tracks with an obscuring mist and roused not, any guards. We returned Erilyn home to her parents and were offered gold by her family for her return, but Draznor refused it. It locked in my like of him. The welfare of others concerns him greatly. I am glad he has agreed to join our company.
Soon thereafter, several of us took ill. I began coughing and on occasion spitting up green gas like the cloud in the ruined house of Elzid. Ayther said he knew an alchemist who might be of help. We visited Rellik, the alchemist. He was a fair man of few words but candid, and clear. He earned my respect and gratitude. He told us of a cure for what he believed afflicted us and told us where to get it. The remedy lay near a town called Hidden Gulch – the hometown of the brave, but small in stature, Caldair. There we could extract the needed herbs - banewort, root of shrieking mandrake, black peat bog tar, and deadly nightshade. These toxic herbs had to be harvested by following specific magic rituals, otherwise they would lose their potency. We headed out the next morning.
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