Sun, 28 Oct 2007 19:20:52 -0500 webmistress@dndresources.com (Forums) IP.Blog 60 Freedom's Paean
Danger mounts like fell beasts circling the eaves of a castle’s spires. Its been a while since I wrote. Time to myself has been rare and I have found few precious moments to pen my thoughts.

My heart twists, restless. I do not favor the sea. Mine is the waving and rolling plains and valleys. Place me within legions of massive oaks shouldering a vast canopy of leaf cover or find me striding amidst a blossoming field of lilies and lavender. Even root me in the stark grey city where I have made my peace and sussed for my comfort and sanity, what little is verdant within. Here, at sea, I find it easy to sink. Little of seafaring nourishes me. The salt air stings my lungs, and the brine cracks my archer’s fingertips. Little feels settled here, though I do take comfort in the wave’s caprices and do savor the reprieve of time to think.

As we remain at sea, (we have been here over a week already), I slowly warm to its pleasures. Sea songs sustain me like warm elven berry bread. Ada (father) knew only a handful of sea songs, so their novelty cheers me. They are spritely and blithe. Their ability to capture the improbability of liberation among tempests incontestably imperious, resonates with my unfettered soul. Freedom is a spark that lights society and saves it from darkness. It drives creativity, passion, and meaning. In this time at sea I have learned to respect those of the water. The conjured spirit of sea folk intoned through maritime shanties reveals a depth, and sagacity I did not fathom before this. On this ship, I find myself with occasion to observe and admire such insight as I reflect upon my own quests. We have now been sailing for several weeks, seeking Alden’s brother, Jamus, and I find myself changed even in so short a time. I have always extolled freedom but recent events and time to reflect have magnified its significance and vaulted freedom to the fore of ideals worth living and dying for. Let me briefly detail how we and I more specifically got to this point.

After we rescued Rellik and maimed the iron hand of bane, we knew retribution from the Kraken loomed imminent. Though it was breaking the law, let no decree by man stand between those I love and safety. I respect order and grasp its utility in society, but I care not for trifling laws. Edict means nothing beside love, justice or most certainly, individual liberty. Therefore we left Waterdeep and hid my father in Ardeep Forest despite the mandate that thralls not leave the city grounds. I would rather break a king’s law than for certain supply Ada’s neck for the Kraken’s death noose. Fortuitously, in Ardeep we encountered the last survivors of my old elven enclave in the forest. It was lovely to see them again. As nomads not easily tracked or traced, they agreed to shelter my father. In their capable hands he should be safe. I sing their praises for the sanctuary they will offer my dearest Ada. My restless heart heals.]]> Fri, 19 Jan 2007 20:57:26 -0600 An Iron Fist

Trust glues civilized society together. Though it may seem, on the streets of Waterdeep, by the wary looks of passers by, that distrust abounds, in truth, trust teems: an ever present fastener in a functioning and civilized society. It is implied in nearly all transactions even if it is not openly acknowledged. Cities would grind still without it. Fear would rule. Evidence of trust buds everywhere. We trust that inn roof under which we reside will not collapse and that it was built with proper care and attention. We trust that the grain we purchased at the market is not poisoned. We trust that the tools we use each day whether they be pen, sword or plow will generally endure the morrow. We trust the sun will rise tomorrow, that the city guard won’t unjustly arrest us, and that our partners will comfort us in need. We trust all around us. For all the contracts broken, for all the handshakes forsaken, for all the promises riven, far many more steadfast and unspoken compacts between city denizens persist daily. In the end we trust because most folk are good and care for the well being of others. It is an invisible currency joins.

Such is not always the case. Some societies resort to extreme measures to exact “trust” Cruelty corrals rebel members. Viciousness is raft when greed, strife, and self aggrandizement prevail among peoples. In such societies killing members who break trust is platitude for daily exchange. Rather than justice, fear rules such societies. Ruthlessness and savagery thrive. An iron fist crushes all who oppose. Members toe the line or die. Those who lead the Kraken know as much, and employ such tyrannical methods to achieve order. Mercy is not among their principles, nor freedom. Kraken require obedience. They rule by the gauntleted hand of Bane. Trust withers if it ever existed at all among subjects.

Would assaulting the Kraken lair ultimately unclench the knuckles or would the iron fist smash us to pieces?

The dock laboring Kraken discovered our ploy and attacked. Several others ran, presumably to sound the alarm. One swift footed escapee bolted down a narrow corridor but I managed to ensnare him with a new spell that enables me to shoot webs and barricade adjacent surfaces. In the end we prevented departures, and assayed our foes but we were unclear how much clatter our less than stealthy entrance evoked.

We continued, warily through the hideout. At several points we avoided rooms with muted sounds of clashing steel and wood as if soldiers practiced in the rooms beyond. Caldair and Alden advance scouted. On a return trip of their forays ahead, they reported a very troubling conversation. Three menacing Kraken each more malevolent, clearly leaders, spoke of their rancor towards us. One pale figure towered; broad shouldered and armored in night black plate mail finished off with black boots and gauntlets; one loomed eerily, cloaked in flowing brown hooded robes that veiled a seemingly formless creature and a third horned creature, that resembled the tiefling we fought in the arena lurked stealthily. They addressed each other as Nerelas, Teledorn and Vulgat and spoke about destroying us. From the conversation Teledorn hired Nerelas to send the assailants after us at the dragon’s lair on Mt Helimbrar s. Teledorn’s iron clenched fist underscored his vexation at Nerelas’ failure to kill us. He wanted Adderfang returned. They knew several of us by name.

After they left the room Alden explored it. In his prankster humor he intentionally mussed the chest of clothes and before he returned he took some of their belongings. Hopefully the caged, enormous bat like creatures of which he spoke that hung in the room did not report his caper.

We journeyed deeper in. Eventually we confronted the hirelings en masse, when our plan to quietly subdue a small group of them unraveled. In a bloody battle that nearly killed Theodred and Alden, we prevailed. I learned the important lesson my father always drilled on fighting multiple foes. Fortuntately I did not need to learn it the hard way through, mortal wounds. It was enough to witness the ninjas attempt to flank each of us by tumbling through us to remind me of the importance of battle position. He said it a hundred times if he said it once - "beria dan" protect your flank. The ninjas and assassins dexterously tried to slip past but we fought cooperatively and bravely. Victor unleashed fireballs of fury that incinerated a number of our enemies. My bow felled numerous attackers. Theodred and Alden each dashed the hordes unrelentingly. Still they came. Towards the end, my courage nearly failed when we appeared overwhelmed and outdone, but remebering Rellik renewed my valor. Finally we won.

We rescued Rellik, and escaped. We gathered the bound fiend Augmeth, emerged from the sewers and I "drega pilinn" (to move efficiently/directly like an arrow is the best translation) for my father. When news of our breach of the Kraken hideout spread, he would not remain safe as a shopkeeper. Though I certainly courted the ire of the city guard by my actions, it would be better to anger them and safeguard my father than leave him to a certain death at the Kraken’s savage hands.]]> Fri, 26 May 2006 20:28:14 -0500 A Knife in the Dark

At the end of our battle with the guards or maybe it was the beginning, ( I do not now recall -- the heat of battle can cloud one’s memory, for details other than survival), – we encountered a new fellow named Alden who like us, had a score to settle with the Kraken. He joined us. He is another, like Theodred, who embraces nature but Alden eschews magic and brandishes a mighty hand and a half sword that he wields handily.

The questioned Kraken guards provided useful information: Kraken had expanded into slave trade. Alden asked if they had seen his brother Jamus. They knew nothing. We did learn that the Kraken kill their own if their cover is penetrated. We also learned that the hideout belonged to Hadar who is Kraken too. They did not know where Rellik was nor did they know when Hadar would show up again.

Though it was risky, we decided to wait in ambush. We rested but kept guard. We then positioned ourselves throughout the lair; some kept lookout to make sure no one surprised us by coming up through the sewer entrance and the rest poised to spring on Hadar when he returned – hopefully from the front entrance.

As the door opened and we saw a ranger that fit the description of Hadar we pounced. My arrows whistled past the shelves concealing me and into Hadar’s chest. Alden’s arrows did also. Our team swiftly brought down Hadar but several of his associates ran. Theodred captured them. Hadar, with a little coercing about leaving him with his Krake companions, revealed that Rellik was secured in the loading docks and that he had heard Aldens’ brother Jamus, had been in Waterdeep but his masters had taken him out after they could not break him.

One captured Kraken agreed to aid us. Caldair convinced him his life was forfeit anyway. He drew us a map of the sewers and we set out to find Rellik.

Ahead we saw light in the tunnels. A skiff approached our lead boat with Caldair and the captured Kraken. I was in the second with Alden. The others slowly glided behind us. As we neared, a gleam of silver flashed and a stab of pain cut through my shoulder. Jutting from my shoulder, was a dagger; one I had seen before but could not place. I canted a spell of fiery rays as I glimpsed with my acute vision the hurler of the blade ; a beastly Half Orc named Augmeth. Augmeth was one of the thugs who harassed my father from time to time. Augmeth is evil. Fury fills me. My rays scorch their boat and Augmeth recoils from the fiery flames that torch his smug countenance. He is clearly wounded and pretty badly. Still, he discharges and again strikes me. I slump over in the boat; a pin cushion pierced by his knives. I can feel blood drenching me and then I remember darkness falling.

When I awakened, Theodred was kneeling beside me in the skiff, attending my wounds. I am forever grateful to him. I would surely have died without his aid

Augmeth still had not been captured but we surrounded him. He had lept from his boat into the dank, diseased riddled waters. The party tried to tactically position its boats to prevent Augmeth’s s escape and I cast lights that danced at each corner of the area where we suspected he hid. Finally we subdued him and rendered him unconscious.

I do not hate. Hatred is evil and I will not sully myself with such vile thoughts, but Augmeth comes as close to warranting that emotion as any individual I can name. I cannot bring myself to kill him but we cannot let him go. We bound him instead. We intended to return that way and capture him on our way out. We urgently needed to find Rellik.

As we entered the loading docks, furnished our sewer pass and began to head in, all looked well. I thought “perhaps our stealth approach might work.”

Once the boats were in however, our ruse was detected.]]> Fri, 26 May 2006 19:46:34 -0500 A Mother’s Cold Fury

Red is the color of life, of blood, of the sun, of fire. If that is so, then white portends an icy, barren existence – frigid and cold. The poles of dominion in my life: Fire and Ice. Fire and Ice.

The next day we headed to Mt Helimbrar and the town of Rassalanter at the base of the mountain. There, we buy cold gear.

It is much colder as we get nearer the mountain. The temperature drops precipitously. In town, we learn that the dragon is female and that recently a hunter saw two dragons engaged in some elaborate aerial dance. They fear the two beasts mated and spawned progeny.

After we buy our gear, a caravan offers to sell me the same gear for less. I pass, except for the pitons. I purchase the caravan pitons instead and return the first set. I am not necessarily looking to buy more cheaply, for this town clearly can use our cash, but something is amiss. Something makes me suspicious; there is an oddness about all our encounters in this town. I am trying to acquire information by buying the caravan’s pitons. I learn nothing.

We begin our ascent. We climb nearly 12,000 feet and if the temperature was freezing before, this is enough to still one’s blood. To make matters worse, a snowstorm strikes.

My name in elven means like the swift summer winds, it is an interesting contrast to this frigid zephyr. I feel like a solid block of ice. After several days of climbing like this, a number of us are fatigued. The thin air, bone wrenching cold and dizzying winds have taken their toll.

A frozen cave entrance presents itself just a short jaunt ahead of us. We decide to climb for it . We are not prepared to endure these conditions indefinetly and its not clear when the storm will cease. Inside it is all glistening ice. The cave opens into much grander spiralling spaces -- that we descend into with our silken ropes. We aim for stealth. This feels like a lair. Finally it plunges straight down where we see enormous sparkle and glare. We use the rest of our ropes in the final long descent.

We are in the lair of the dragon. The littering of carcasses strewn about corrects any notions of doubt any skeptics entertained. Elks, cattle, horses, bones, and other sundry parts line the area. We find the silk covered, bloodstained arms and other parts of the Legion Arcanum members. None survived this.

A hissing sound startles us – we jump, hoping NOT to come face to face with the resident of such a frigid manor and in a manner, we both do -- and don’t. A pair of small hatchling dragons emerge from their snow covered shells -- snarling, hissing and trying to commute us into nice frozen snacks. The Rassallantearans were correct, the dragons did beget hatchlings. Nothing good can come of this. We must kill the little ones before they grow into young white dragons that together turn Waterdeep into a permanent glacier. I do not feel good about this, but it must be done and they did attack us. Killing a mothers’ young is, of course, sure to provoke an animus rarely paralleled in any kingdom, but truly there is no other way. White dragons are evil creatures and they have already attacked our city. They will show us no mercy.

Still, I feel for mother and child even when it is clear what must be done.

Melee ensues. We kill the dragonspawn and try to collect what few treasures we can. I suggest we include the dragon carcasses. (Some part of me feels it necessary or solacing) At any rate, they will be of great value to the guild. Theodred, spots a patch on the far north wall that appears to be of thinner ice. Further inspection reveals it to be true. As Theodred is casting a blade of flame to carve out a hole, we hear the shrieking roar of the mother – Cryosangius. So the Wyrm returns. Each moment brings us closer to our death. We cannot last even a few moments against such a monstrous beast. Our egress must commence swiftly or we will die.

In a flash we are through as the deafening roar nears. We are lucky – very lucky. Though there was no time to check to see where the hole led, it opened to essentially an enormous ice slide that dropped us 1000 feet below the exit we came from. Our plummet was stopped by a large snow drift. Above, the sounds of a the irate beast cracking through the ice of the cave, drowns the roaring winds.

The surprises never end. I hear human voices ahead and alert the others. Suddenly we are ambushed by ten figures wearing similar cold gear. Two are knowledgeable of the arcane arts. We try to warn them that if we do not all run we shall die, when the vengeful mother breaks out of the cave. Reason does not penetrate. They continue fighting us.

With a thunderous crash, shattered ice showers the mountainside in shards. I look up to see a most terrifying sight. Cryosangius --mother terror -- has broken free. I yell for all to hide, hoping that my companions, at least, will heed my warning. Our human assailants pale in comparison to this monster. I duck behind a large snowdrift and begin tunneling in. Draznor is nearby. Before my dive, I catch Theodred downing a potion of sorts and scrambling for the ledge of the cliff. I pray he knows what he is doing.

Finally our assailants recognize the chilly situation when the enraged matriarch swoops down grabs several in each claw and flies off. I can only imagine their screams as they plummeted thousands of feet to an icy grave. Finally I dig deep enough that I cannot see outside anymore – but three of four times did I hear the howl of the leviathan swoop near, grab bodies and fly off.

Silence.

When the cry of the wind and the crackling of trees swaying so, is the only sound I’d heard for what seemed like a long time, only then do I emerge. Draznor waited a similarly long time as did Caldair. It seems she returned to her cave and that our assailants had been dispensed with. Theodred was nowhere to be found. I do not think he is dead. He seemed to be executing an intentional plan the last moments I saw him ; a plan different from the simple fleeing that brought our human sabouteurs to their icy deaths. I hope he is well. I prayed he made it to Rassalanter.

Cold as a weapon intrigues me.]]> Fri, 26 May 2006 19:46:16 -0500 The Price of A Dance - Entry 8

We investigated the bodies of the similarly clothed assailants. Under their cold gear they wore black leather armor and brandished squid tattoo. Caldair recognized the tattoo and winced, stricken with fear. He said was Kraken – which meant little to me but from his look they clearly were not to be trifled with. We headed down the mountain and met up with Theodred who apparently climbed down the side of the mountain like a spider. I must say that is an appealing dweomer

When we returned to Waterdeep the guild displayed exceeding gratitude. They hailed us heroes, though really, we did little. The dragon still hunts and now its wrath is warranted. We live in the shadow of her fury. The Magi S’Zaro, one of the leaders within the guild, is an odd fellow, earnest and well meaning but seemingly a little scattered. I have not figured him out yet though he seems trustworthy. He tells us that we will be granted access to the next level in the library – we meaning Ayther,Victor, Draznor and I.

S’Zaro invites us to the celebration ceremony scheduled for the following evening where he says we will be honored and inducted into the upper levels and allowed access to more remote libraries. I leap midair. I am giddy with glee. Had there been time, I would have liked to purchase a dress. Had there been time, I might have had one made of the silk we acquired from Rander, but alas, no seamstress could possibly have sew quickly enough to whip up garb for an such an event with so little notice.

The day of the ceremony I spent trying to track the origin of the Rander silk and did – to a merchant in Lowick. The threads of mystery weave tighter. The next shipment is due to arrive in about a month.

The ceremony is mirthful and we are venerated. "Ama" (mother) would have been proud of me. I AM my mother’s daughter – I am proud of her and myself; both us talented in the arts. I feel her spirit keeps me company during the gala. Part way through the ceremony however, Draznor taps me and says – “look” -- as Magi Agonya and Sepharak interrupt the officiate to object to our induction. Apparently access to higher levels within the guild is limited and we have taken coveted slots. We are apparently rash and heroic where tenure and lucubration should triumph. S’Zaro chides the other Magi for disturbing the ceremony saying they should have waited to voice their objections. This was not the time or place. Disgusted, Agonya, Sepharak and others leave ostentatiously.

We have clearly antagonized some within the guild.

Afterwards, a guild member named Emirik asks Draznor and I too meet him an hour before midnight on the level of the forbidden library we now have access to. We accept cautiously but remain skeptical. After tonight’s earlier outbursts we will need to tread carefully. No one need need tell us -- be wary.

The meeting with Emirik is a dance. Each of us moves in time to the beat of something distantly perceived, each avoids stepping on the foot of the other. In the end little is said, little is revealed. No one is bruised or wounded this time, but there will be a next time – we know this. He tells us about different factions within the guild and asks which we will align with. We respond that we are ‘too new’ and craftily avoid to commit to either side -- Agonya’s or S’Zaro’s, but I also sense that neutrality for too long will be eyed suspiciously. S'zaro apparently leads one of the major factions interested in continuing old guild traditions, while Agonya's coterie wants to explore new realms of magic, some of which are controversial and dangerous, but could lead to power much faster. Emirik, slyly, reveals little about himself either. He seems honest enough but this political game feels dangerous. We are on a dagger’s edge with a steep fall to either side and the blade’s pressure cutting our feet. I am reminded of an elven bladedance I once heard about that was danced many, many moons ago where partners would do lively steps amidst a floor littered with sharp daggers and swords. The dance symbolized the tension between freedom and structure, between danger and safety, between comfort and risk. Our meeting mimics that dance.

We head to the library. Can there be a better fantasy for a little elven girl than special privileges to read rare and wondrous tomes.

Agonya tries to intimidate us in the library, but luckily S’Zaro suspected something like this might happen and accompanies us. The room seems to be a dimension to another plane. It is no wonder that access is controlled. I am not ready to embark on that adventure just yet so we do not explore much.

When we meet up again with our non guild comrades the next day, Caldair has learned that the tattooed men on the mountain are part of a deadly league of assassins called Kraken. When his mother and father learned too much about them they abducted or killed his parents who are currently missing. Ayther tells us that Rellik, the kind fellow who concocted our antidotes to the toxic gas, is missing since the night before. When we go to investigate we find a singed wall, bloodstained floors, strewn glass and bottles and overturned shelves. Oh, that we had been here for Rellik. Is this the price of success? Witnesses reveal that the kidnappers looked like assassins and eventually among the dock ward inhabitants, we learn that Hadar, a swarthy ranger seems to have kidnapped Rellik in a cart.

Eventually after asking what felt like hordes, our search leads to the heart of the dock’s deep back alley’s where leprous beggars live. I have never seen such indigence. How can a city can call itself ‘of splendors’ when individuals live like this? This is reprehensible. I have never considered my fortune grand, nor my finances extensive, but this abject poverty is beyond my comprehension. Each day the city bustles anew with its doings, each day the dance of life echoes on gleefully but for these residents the music has stopped or the tune suffocates. Their steps cease. They do not spring. They are shackled by their destitution. I do not mean to be harsh, but elves would never allow such a thing among our people. It would disgrace us. I will not allow it here. I must find a way to right this wrong. This is how a city can quell the soul.

In the end the beggars turned out to be cons. Is my outrage misplaced? I think not. Their misfortune governs their derelicition. They claimed to know of Hadar but their tip led us to the sewers, and into a trap. The dank, cramped, filthy sewers swarmed with vicious rats and at a dead end passage, the mother of all rats, a giant diseased carcass of a beast and her vile brood, attacked us. We defeated her, barely. I tried a new spell upon the beast, one I recently mastered. The “arrows” are not like the shafts I fire from my faithful bow, they are of acid, but they possess different virtue. Their sting endures longer. I am pleased with this acquisition. I also have a chance to launch rays that scorch the beast. In fact, for this battle, my greatest assault derives from such an attack, and my strike sears the creature, but alone it is not enough. We each took turns getting mauled by the creature till finally we brought it down.

Pity spare those liars, it seems our flapping tongued friends upstairs maintain a crafty operation here. They lure unsuspecting explorers to their deaths at the rat queen's clutches, then they loot the corpses. Lo, that men were not driven to madness by such rueful circumstance.

Our exploration of the sewers turns up numerous dead ends and narrow corridors but thankfully no more accursed rodents. Finally, we land in what had to be the Kraken lair.

Selune help us. We are in the scorpions den.

We come upon two guards garbed in the same black leather that mountain attackers donned under their winter gear. It is surely Kraken then. We try attacking stealthily knowing there are likely more, but guards escape upstairs.

Once again my longbow hums. I am accurate and make numerous deft strikes. Again the party prevails over the guards. We find another ledger, like the miller’s, that documents the bankruptcy of the glass shop that this hideout belies. We also find a Kraken “sewer pass”. Perhaps this will enable us unfettered access. Hah! I laugh inside. If only it were that easy. I worry for Rellik. We are dealing with evil men. I can only pray he is still alive. If he is not, I will have justice. Mark my words. I will have justice.]]> Fri, 26 May 2006 19:46:02 -0500 The Great Diaspora

On our way back to Waterdeep, after returning the gold to Lowick, we encountered caravans of refugees packed up and vacating the city. Something odd was clearly going on. We stopped one caravan and learned that apparently a “dragon [had] attacked Waterdeep”. Surely this could not be true, yet the looks of terror on everyone’s faces told me that in if it was not , then something equally horrid had. When we arrived in Waterdeep we learned that the dragons tale was true. Even my father had heard the shouts and clamor. Guild members busily prepared siege engines (apparently without the sanction of the city) and everyone scurried about in haste. Several guild members had died in the dragons assault. Several Legion Arcanum had been hauled off by the dragon as they tried to defend the tower. No one could say why the White Dragon had attacked nor could they say why it only attacked the tower and not the rest of Waterdeep. I am suspicious

The guild needed answers and was recruiting for a party to try to scout the dragon’s hideout and possibly rescue any surviving soldier/wizards. Anyone wizard who volunteered would be granted access to the next level in the library – the forbidden library. We volunteered.

Draznor learned while researching in the library in parts we had access to that the dragons name was probably Cryosangius or Ice Blood in Draconian. The dragon was rumored to have lived near Mt Helimbrar – several days journey by foot away. Long ago it had troubled the area. Later I was to meet him to continue our research but I needed to check in with Ada to assure his safety. This notion of a dragons stalking Waterdeep disconcerts. Father must remain safe.

When I rendezvoused with Draznor he relayed that he had come upon a grayish creature amongst the tomes that had evaded him and escaped with a book – likely a treatise on dragons since that was the section they were in.
]]> Tue, 07 Mar 2006 12:57:26 -0600 Robbing the Rich to Pay the Poor

Though my heart heals and my spirits lift, (greatly aided by the acquisition of an enchanted longbow from the brute’s dwelling,) I still, am not well. The affects of the ingested green gas intensify. My agility is diminished as I am frequently wracked with nausea. We need to find the rest of the herbs. Time is essential.

We collected the shrieking mandrake during the day. Theodred’s plant savvy is abundantly welcome. Even with it, we did not manage to escape unscathed. At the time it was not funny, my condition left little room for humor. But in retrospect, the capers of the wool-headed lot of us, roaming the country side deafened, with said state induced by the howl of a small, but overbearingly strident, wretchedly gnarled root, were certainly fodder for many a joke. Few though, witnessed our silly and impaired state.

Later that evening we gathered the peat tar, last of the necessary ingredients and bid farewell to the very grateful townsfolk then immediately headed back to Waterdeep. By this time my insides were roiling; the nausea nearly crippling. In Waterdeep, Ayther contacted Rellik, we supplied the herbs and shortly thereafter he produced a cure which the afflicted, like myself imbibed. It tasted no better than its component ingredients sounded, but it cured the malady. Rellik is a life saver - literally. He has our deep gratitude.

The wizards guild was less than pleased when out of concern we informed them about the cloud. It was called the “cloud of jubilex” as I learned from Elzid’s belongings that we discovered in the fighter brute’s den) However, the guild only offered a mild reprimand and informed us that those afflicted by the cloud died as liquefied slime. Clearly the guild has no interest in making this incident bigger. I feel for those that passed. May their spirits rest peacefully.

We are fortunate to have avoided that fate.

A several month old rumor about an arsonist setting nearby town aflame, now seemed worth exploring. Perhaps those fires were connected to the evil we encountered in Hidden Gulch. We set out for Lowick, the village experiencing the arsons. The people of the town were curiously tight-lipped but eventually we managed to glean that fires had been set and the arsonist undetained.

We camped out for several nights near the mayor’s house. On the 2nd or third evening the arsonist – whom some described as a ghostly scarecrow and “not alive” struck, again. We pursued the apparition like entity to a creepy old mill whereupon it vanished. But inside the mill we discovered, the hanged miller, his a ledger that showed a foreclosed business bankrupted from excessive taxation, a diary indicating that he had started to lead a town revolt against the taxer shortly before his death, and an odd nugget of silver.

Prodding the townspeople further, we learned that the “tax collectors" name was “Rander” and that he was due for a visit soon We waited, and with the help of my beautiful avian Allegra, we tracked the suspicious tax collectors back to their stone manor. Theodred spoke to her magically as she followed them. It allowed us to keep a healthy distance from them without being spotted.

At the stone manor, Caldair scouted the grounds and building invisibly using a potion we tucked away for just such an occasion.

When the drawbridge came crashing down we knew he was in trouble and bounded in. We defeated several armed guards but Rander, the leader escaped. We tracked him but mighty Draznor rendered him permanently silent before we could question him when his staggering blow to the head separated Randers body from his skull. Rander should have called quarter when he had a chance. His death was unfortunate. In addition to the townspeople’s money which we returned to them we also acquired bolts of silk similar to ones we discovered in Elzid’s house.

On our way back to Waterdeep we encountered the “scarecrow –ghost” again who led us to a cavern this time. Inside more silver nuggets glittered but we dared not dally for the ceiling looked ready to unite with the floor at any moment. This ghost is trying to clue us into something but we know not what, just yet.]]> Tue, 07 Mar 2006 12:56:59 -0600 Fires That Burn Anew

Funny, a fire can incinerate entire woodlands and raze all in its path, but it can also cauterize a gaping wound. Sometimes, its the same flame that does both.

Questioned townsfolk in Hidden Gulch produced several leads. I am grateful, for the sickness worsens. I am queasy continually, though not enough for the time being, to diminish my agility. Battle will test my true mettle.

One lead takes us to an old deserted manor house up the road from the town -- to the family cemetery more specifically -- where we discovered and began harvesting one of the herbs. The banewort I believe. Caldair had been harvesting for a short time when a foul rotting hand reached up and attempted to throttle him. I nocked and loosed several arrows at the full creature that emerged – a half flesh eaten, putrid, writhing corpse of some kind. Victor, who is usually quick to command a moving ball of flame, to dispense enemies, hastily retreated – the target of a devious magic, perhaps a fear- invocation. We eventually destroyed the creature and resumed collecting the banewort only to discover that patches of it had already been taken, and recently. Too little was left for a cure.

The townsfolk also told us to look for herbs on a tiny island off a body of water near Hidden Gulch – there we discovered more herbs and a recently lit campfire. Aside from the herbs, the island was too small and desolate to be of interest to anyone. Clearly, others needed the banewort. We had to find them or fail to find sufficient amounts for a cure -- and die.

We returned to the inn discouraged. How much time did we have? I certainly was not getting better. I rested my queasy frame.

I awakened to hauntingly familiar sounds: grunts, screams and blazing fire. It was like a nightmare that torments me. Outside Hidden Gulch was chaos. Buildings were bursting with flames, townspeople were screaming and scrambling everywhere. Smoke shrouded the night sky. Charred flesh, mixed with burnt wood, and thatch, suffused my nostrils. I recalled that horrid night my mother was slain. The memories raged in my brain like an unchecked inferno.

Fire commands too much dominion in my life. It sears all. Ashes are everywhere.

Hooded goat-headed beast like humanoids led by surly human brute with an elaborately eerie headdress, riding a tall warhorse garbed comparably sinister, were torching the town. Led by a coven of witches. These female witch creatures were of a races unknown to me. We quickly engaged them. A resident at the inn named Theodred who walks the path of nature joined the fray. He and his uncommonly large dog Fang proved able combatants. Their assistance was welcome. Draznor set off in one direction, I another, and Theodred, Fang a ranger whose name I cannot recall, set off in a third since each of the witches seemed to have taken responsibility for destroying a different section of the town.

My aim rang true for the evening. My bow sang. At least in those realms I could see. One witch however cast some shadow spell that prevented all from seeing in. From there she launched other incantations to attack our party. The new ally, Theodred summoned animal creatures to fight beside him but even they were confounded by the complete ring of darkness. Finally I loosed an incantation spraying color over the area and though we still could not see, it was clear that numerous beast within the darkness suffered the worse for my evocation.

Finally, only one witch remained. I chased her and was gaining on her until she suddenly disappeared. In her stead were bushes. I grabbed the bush, but she had disappeared before my very eyes. Several companions further behind in pursuit, laughed and mocked me, thinking me a girlish fool for embracing a bush and soon I too made light of my absurdity. Still, Theodred and I did stand guard at the bush for when she emerged.

I do not recall the series of events next, but I was vindicated. She did emerge eventually and we learned that she had been the bush. I suppose I got the final laugh.

When the battle turned, the helmeted brute Draznor set after initially, galloped away on horseback. It was clear our party would get the better this battle. We did not pursue him for the town was still aflame and he had too great a lead.

We doused the flames, treated the wounded as best we could, rounded the witches up and locked them in the most secure existing structure and questioned them. The next day Theodred demonstrated his value yet again when he tracked us to the brute’s den.

A fortress of twigs and branches quartered the surly fighter. I had never seen such a structure. We crafted a small opening. Draznor is very brave. He entered first, I second and rest of the party followed suit. Fighter-brute charged with his warhorse and meleed us but was too greatly outnumbered. We offered mercy but he fought on. We slew him.

I was not prepared for what we discovered amongst his den.

Charred and ashen with barely a binding to keep the few remaining badly scorched pages secured, was my mother's spellbook.

I wept openly. Memories flooded my brain.

The sounds felt familiar because they were. These savages killed my mother. They must have been the ones who raided our village in Ardeep that night four years ago. Oh that you were here to witness this night mother. Oh that I could hear your voice again. My skull ached but some closure has been granted me. My wounds begin to heal. I am forever grateful.

I walked alone in the woods for a while afterwards. I feel like a tree whose limb has been cut and whose frame is forced to grow in different direction. Finally now though, the wound from that severed limb is mending and the clear sky is in view. I still have many questions -- this answers some -- but creates others - why? what for? what are the connections between then and now? but healing commences.

I think I frightened Theodred, for he did not talk to me for a great while after that. Perhaps he thinks me a foolish girl, perhaps he finds it weak to openly lament. In either case it does not matter, my heart heals.]]> Tue, 07 Mar 2006 12:56:18 -0600 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.]]> Fri, 17 Feb 2006 11:31:31 -0600 Mystery of Dying Gladiators

Gladiators continued to fall ill but our progress in solving why or who stalled despite questioning hosts of people. Though Volpone looked suspicious to me -- we had no proof. Rather than wrack our brains, we pursued a second mystery simultaneously. Perhaps it held clues to the mystery of the dying gladiators that continued to haunt us. We learned of a rumor that the house of Elzid , an eccentric recluse wizard with an evil reputation, had exploded recently and we decided to investigate.

In our first trip to the house some of the macho gladiators strong-armed the guard rather than stealthily sneaking past them. The big lunks. I am glad we have since parted ways. I fear we will come to regret their foolish actions, since now we will be marked characters.

Inside the house we discovered numerous items of interest including a fancy but creepy dagger apparently called adderfang, and Elzid's diary, which mentioned shipments of goods from the "Private Defense Tax". Oddly he also professed his love for Erilyn Windfellow and, remarked that a "Cruel Zotzpox, should not know of this affair. Erilyn was poor and Elzid had a reputation for seducing wealthy women. His affections for her puzzled us. Could he be renouncing his former evil? Was his epiphany the reason for the explosion? Was his supposed love for Erilyn a sham? I do not think so - I am a romantic - Only due time will tell.

Our time in the house was severely limited because of the blundering fighters. We needed to escape before the changing of the guard. They should have left it to Caldair to secure our entry. His sly ways would have gained us a more furtive access and extended dalliance. Too often the brawn of burly fighters overtakes their brains. What were they thinking overpowering the guard. We will surely be hunted now. ( I am surprised at my own vitriol here -- I wonder where that is coming from?)

Several leads developed in the gladiator mystery. After defeating several teams in the arena, we learned that many were getting a boost from a drug called bloodrush which supposedly enhanced battle prowess. We eventually traced it back to the arena’s physician Paramezzus. Paramezzus however, denied any knowledge of such a substance.

I am serioulsy condensing the following events now, I suspect I will come back later and fill in more details, for there are elements I would like to examine, like Shortfang’s adulation of us, or our encounter with the Dreadwood wyvern in the stadium but for now I want to relay the major happenings. There is so much to tell to catch you up to the present. Eventually we confronted Paramezzus. He revealed that Thel had “killed” his son when the son fell into an ankheg pit as a gladiator. When we pressed him that perhaps this was his motive, he disappeared and we really found ourselves in the thick of it of smoke that is. Apparently he had rigged the entire arena with alchemist fire to be quickly set ablaze on command which he ordered after rapidly disappearing before our eyes. He left screaming that he would annihilate Thel. Clearly he had plotted this for a long time. As we raced to find Thel before Paramezzus, we were nearly overcome with smoke ash and fire. Many of the stable creatures perished.

Several times while running through the stadium, I who am usually sure of foot, fell and caught fire. Victor and Ayther did also. It looked grim. I did not think we would reach her in time. For all we knew she had already been incinerated in the blaze. I was determined not to lose another important person to fire. This element would not rule me or my life. Though wounded, we barreled on.

Upon reaching the arena level we could see a fight raging in the sky boxes. It was Thel, Volpone and Paramezzus. I bolted up first, launched an arrow and then made a tactical error befitting a novice fighter. Rather than attack the wizard I engaged Volpone thinking he the greater threat to Thel. Paramezzus however, quickly webbed me into the corner while simultaneously barricading the door with the web. I was helpless for much of the fight thereafter and Victor and Ayther could not enter the skybox to fight either. I am grateful for my dear Allegra and my friends Victor and Ayther. In the end, I owe them my life.

Burly Volpone managed to break free of the web and pounded Thel who desperately fought back but was clearly overwhelmed. Ayther, Victor and Allegra my beautiful falcon familiar, eventually took out Paramezzus. That left Volpone who soon reduced Thel to a bloody mass. He then turned his attention to me. I remember thinking I that all would be for naught when blow after blow came crashing upon me. I passed out in pain and desperation. For me, it was the end. Thank the elven gods that Victor risked his life, leaping from the catwalk to the skybox window, fifteen stories above the burning bonfire below, to rescue me. Between he, Allegra and Ayther, they finally managed to take Volpone and we eventually were rescued from the charred remains of the stadium. Thel, after she recovered, was extremely grateful and we felt very much like heroes. Though we did not manage to save the stadium we did manage to keep Thel alive.]]> Fri, 17 Feb 2006 11:31:02 -0600