# weenie_properties_book_page_data

author_Name: FRIENDS AND FAMILY
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Officiator: You who stand here as witnesses are the friends and family of the bride and groom.  You are charged with the task of helping them in their new role as wife and husband, to support them in their times of need, and to do all that you can to make their marriage a blessed and happy union.


author_Name: THE RINGS
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Officiator: Please exchange the rings.

Groom: With this ring, I thee wed.

Bride: With this ring, I thee wed.


author_Name: THE PRONOUNCEMENT
author_Account: prewritten
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Officiator: You have made your vows under the seals of that which you hold important.

Officiator: Before the witnesses of your friends and family, you are now pronounced husband and wife.  May your marriage bring you great happiness.

[Guests may now congratulate the married couple.  Emote freely.  Save celebratory gems for use outside.]


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We are truly in an age of discovery in our new land of Dereth.  Thanks to intrepid adventurers who have unearthed ancient clues in inhospitable environs such as the Direlands and the Lost City of Frore, we know more and more about our predecessors on the island, the Empyrean.  Our gathered peoples recently rediscovered the process by which to create Lord Atlan's marvelous weapons.  And now, I and my associates have unearthed the secrets of the mysterious crystals that come from the beasts which even now threaten our towns.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
For some time now, brave wayfarers in our new land of Dereth have been finding strange crystals on the corpses of slain shadows and crystal beasts.  For many cycles, the provenance of these objects regrettably remained in obfuscation.  Knowing my reputation as a learned man with much experience in the esoteric arts, some curious adventurers brought their gems to me.  Now, thanks to my research, the secret of the crystals has come to light.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Strangely enough, one is able to combine crystals of comparable size.  I began to experiment with the smallest specks of shadow essence and the cracked, flawed remnants that came from the weakest of crystal monsters.  They readily bonded into a single gem that was dark as night, but occasionally emanated flashes of light, which I can only speculate results from the combination of the innate dark magic of one element and the brightness of its counterpart.  With my attunement to the properties of magic, I was also able to detect a faint core of power within the compund jewel.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Excitedly, I repeated my experiments with larger pieces, which grew in both brightness and in stored power.  The very largest shards of shadow and crystal combined into very large gems, reservoirs of considerable power.  The largest amalgamated gems have the darkest cores, yet emanate the brightest pulses of light.  The gems, obviously, are powerful items.  I had just turned my mind to the task of finding practical applications to them when I received news from my associates, Gondo Kanezo, Sage of the Sho nation, and Zarea bint Zea, the Gharu'ndim Sage.


author_Account: prewritten
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I share all my knowledge with my esteemed colleagues of Sho and Gharu'n, as well as with skilled craftworkers in my acquaintance.  They, in turn, passed the knowledge onto accomplished artisans in their lands, all in the effort to find a use for these mysterious but tantalizingly powerful gems.  Finally, almost simultaneously, three metalsmiths in the three lands found ways to melt and refine the fused gems, and use the distilled essence of the gems in a very intricate metal alloying process.  The strength and lightness of the metal thus produced is unparalleled.


author_Account: prewritten
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These honored and skilled crafters are named Aleane the Steelforger, Jibril ibn Rashid, and Koga Hideki.  They have taken up residence in, respectively:  Eastham, al-Jalima and Kara.  They are to be commended not just for their ingenuity and skill, but for their generosity.  For they have offered to craft suits of armor for those who bring them fused gems, all to help in the effort against the shadows which stalk our land.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
~ The Silfi of the Crimson Stars: Volume I ~








                            a History by
           Kayna bint Iswas of the Walim     


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In the southern skies of old Ispar may be seen a picturesque cluster of five red stars, all bound together and encircled by streamers and whorls of luminous mist. They are judged by the astrologers of the al-Ighaz to be much larger than the norm of stars. Indeed, this is obvious to the most untrained eye, as their hue and brightness is much greater than that of the stars around them.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
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In the Aluvian lands, where they rise above the horizon only during the summer months, the cluster is unimaginatively called the Apple-Cart. The Sho Empire, whose sky they grace year-round, prettily titles them "The Watchfires at the Southern Gates of Heaven." The night the cluster touches the sacred peak of Akisuma, as seen from the Imperial City, is traditionally held to be the start of their Festival of Lights. Our own people, who also enjoy the cluster's presence year-round, simply call them the Crimson Stars.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
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Our people have named the five stars of the cluster as follows; al-Shajar, al-Khur, Mahwan, Yujazik, and Sulmada. These names are ancient, but for that of al-Khur, which shines the brightest blood-red of them all. This star, once called al-Ghul, was renamed in honor of Rakhil al-Khur some three hundred years ago, after the great victory won at the salt mines to the east of Tirethas.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There are many strange tales told of the Crimson Stars. Some say that they speak to nomads in the desert, others that they guide the destinies of the mighty. Under the clear skies of the Naqut, more than one weary traveler has claimed to see them pulse or wander the sky, or felt that the five vermilion orbs were staring oppressively down upon them. The warlord al-Khur, when deep in his cups, claimed to have seen the stars flash in the heavens when he was a boy. He said the sand around him had been washed a bloody crimson, and the grains moving in the wind seemed to him as moving armies.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
All such tales are assumed to be fables, of course. Al-Khur was notorious for the amount of drink he consumed at victory celebrations. No other reliable witnesses have ever reported these phenomena - only the nomads, who have their own name for the cluster; "The Silent Watchers." Nevertheless, the Crimson Stars have indeed had a meaningful hand in the history of the Gharu'ndim people, on more than one occasion.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In the period of our history known as the Century of Storms, no fewer than twenty-five different would-be Maliks and Malikas ruled the Gharu'ndim people. One of these was the Malika Ladriya bint Daum, of the Taban region.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Ladriya was an exception among her contemporaries. A woman of peace and learning, she had been educated by the al-Ighaz at Tirethas. Indeed, she had spent most of her life in the City of Lore, only rarely being sent by her father to visit her ancestral homeland. She was a master of the life magics of Ispar, and had achieved much prestige as a healer. Before the death of the great Amul ibn Rakhil, her father had been a minor Mu'allim in the court; her mother had died in childbirth. While some tongues had connected her romantically with her captain, the great Faris Tamsah ibn Jaidah, she remained unmarried during her brief, brilliant life.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After some fifteen years of chaos, the former court of Amul ibn Rakhil at al-Nafalt had already begun to dwindle from the shadowy competition for the throne. Ladriya, then twenty-six and disgusted by the situation, decided to return to her homeland for good. It was a decision she later admitted having deferred since being orphaned at her father's death, ten years before. Having known the City of Lore for most her life, it seemed more of a home than far-off Taban, on the far side of the great Naqut Desert.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Halfway through her journeying, the caravan was attacked at night by a band of nomads, sent by the renegade Shayk Ridqidh. Ladriya had been asleep when the raiders came, and awoke to find herself sprawled upon the sands, the Crimson Stars floating placidly above the dunes. By the light of the burning wagons, she could see most of her guard lying dead, and the rest suffering unspeakable torments at the hands of the nomads. She scrambled to her feet and made to flee, only to be brought up short by several armed bandits. These filth made to ravish her, and one slashed away the sleeve of her traveling robes, causing her a grievous injury in the process.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As Ladriya cried in pain, Tamsah, riding his magnificent black stallion Talayyin, burst through her attackers. Leaning off the stallion's flank, he seized her while at full gallop, pulling her across the saddle and leaving the nomads to curse in the dust. Only the most skilled of horsemen could have performed such a feat.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Unfortunately, while Ladriya could have easily healed herself using the arts of the al-Ighaz, her staff and supplies had been lost in the raid. Tamsah bound her wound as best he could, and lashed her to Talayyin's saddle. He himself led the stallion by the bridle through the wasteland. With little food or water, he hoped to get his Lady to the oasis of Shiryaz, three days away at a hard ride, before she perished.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As they journeyed through the desert, moving mostly in the cool of the night, the young Mu'allima had a vision. While she herself later dismissed it as a trick of heat, dehydration, and pain, it clearly had a profound effect on the course of her life.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Feverishly looking over Talayyin's neck at sunset on the fourth day, she saw the sun as a vessel filled with blood. A bead formed on its lower rim. This grew, trembled, and fell. Where it hit the sand, the land changed. One after the other, one hundred drops in all, she watched the blood spill upon the sands, turning the land into a wasteland of slaughter. Ladriya saw villages and fields burnt to ash, the bodies of men, women, and children swarming with flies, and cities reduced to piles of rubble, visited only by the restless sands of the Naqut.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Then, Ladriya did see a great storm come out of the north, from the sea. The thunder growled like a hungry predator sensing weak prey. A great grey storm-wave rolled in from the sea, and smashed against tall cliffs, eating the base of them away. There was a city above the cliffs, from whose minarets flew the banners of the Malik. It trembled as the ground beneath it was carved away. Finally, it fell in upon itself.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Finally, she saw one last thing, and this was she herself, sitting alone on the throne of the Malik. The royal consort's chair, to her right, sat empty. In the sky above her pulsed the familiar constellation of the Crimson Stars, and their red light seemed to glow within her own dark eyes. She held her left hand up, and the storm-waves recoiled, then slunk back to the northeast, whence they had come. She cupped her right hand beneath the bleeding sun, and caught all but seventeen of the drops.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Tamsah then noticed Ladriya holding out her hand, appearing to cup the setting sun's last light. He grasped her hand, and his touch wiped away the vision. There again was only the fading light of the sunset, the rolling dunes, the whisper of the sands in the twilight wind, and the Crimson Stars, watching her progress impassively. She later wrote that Tamsah, rubbing her cold hand between both of his, gave her a look so tender that, in the wake of her vision, she began to weep.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The two survivors reached Shiryaz two nights later. Ladriya was by then nearly dead from her wound, and Tamsah was starved and parched. He had given his Lady all but the barest water he needed to function. A skilled life mage was able to mend Ladriya's gash, but it took her almost two months to recover her strength from the ordeal. Throughout that period, Tamsah stayed by her side day and night. They returned in triumph to the court of Taban, at Nishadina, on the 6th of Solclaim, 1018.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Taban is a mountainous region, not unlike the area around Zaikhal in the land of Dereth. The province produced enough food to feed itself, and was chiefly known for its olive groves. Perhaps more critical for its survival were the jewels that could be mined in the mountains, which fetched excellent prices in markets as far away as Silveran. Ladriya's palace at Nishadina was modestly sized by the standards of the day, but considered quite elegant. Since the death of her father, her family's viziers had administrated the province.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As befits a ruler returning after long absence, the guilds and merchants of Taban were soon lined at the gates of her palace, burdened with gifts. Among these were a set of five magnificent rubies, found in the deepest mines of the Nariyid Range; the high mountains that towered over Nishadina. The merchant Nurbi ibn Nuhqidh had sent these. Accepting them with grace, she had them sent directly to her chambers.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Ladriya spent her first month home learning all she could about her ancestral homeland. The viziers looked down their noses at the "spoiled city-dweller," but patiently explained all they could of the province.

One warm summer morning, she stood upon one of her balconies, and looked out over the olive groves to the north. On the horizon could be seen the pale edge of the Naqut, the sky above dulled with sand roused by a windstorm. Behind her, she knew, the changeless peaks of the Nariyid pierced the thin clouds. Around her, below the minarets of her palace, were throngs of


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
citizens going about their lives, undisturbed by the chaos in the City of Lore. She stood and thoughtfully sipped a cup of spiced tea, breathing in the smell of the land and the people, until the day had lost the blush of its youth. Then, turning briskly, she called for her courtiers to summon three souls.

As they were fetched, Ladriya had the court cleared. First to arrive was Tamsah ibn Jaidah. His long black hair was tied back, as he had been in the middle of training. He made to question her summons, but she motioned for him to be silent. Next to arrive was Raya al-Darikil, smelling of the


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
spices and perfumes of Nishadina's marketplace. She was known as the finest smith in the province, and was smudged with soot from the forge. Last to arrive was Jumiz ibn Ismak, who was one of Ladriya's viziers. He frowned at the sight of the other two, and brushed down his long robe of Sho silk.

To Tamsah, the Malika put forth the question; "What weapon would you have to lead your Farisim to victory?"

To this, he replied, "A silifi, my lady."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Nodding, she turned to Raya. "Would you be of a mind to drop all your other business, and forge for this man a great silifi? For this, I would well reward you."

Glancing from Ladriya to Tamsah, Raya replied, "It would be my honor to do so, Mu'allima."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Ladriya nodded again, as if she had expected no less. At last, her gaze settled on Jumiz. "You, Vizier, have much knowledge of the enchanter's art. Though you do not speak of it yourself, I know of this from the talk in Tirethas. Once, you were a most promising apprentice. Yet, upon the death of Amul ibn Rakhil, praise be his name, you begged my father to return to Nishadina. You said, I believe, that there would be no Malik worth serving upon achieving your mastery.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I do not wish to be Malika, yet I must be. I make this decision not out of desire for power, riches, or glory, but because this land must be at peace once more, and these people united. No more blood must be spilled. I ask you now, Jumiz; would you help me?"

Jumiz licked his lips nervously, and looked at the floor of the hall. "Mu'allima, you ask a difficult thing of me. As al-Ighaz, I am sworn to the service of peace."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I, also, am al-Ighaz," Ladriya said, softly. "I have studied in the same halls as you, Jumiz, and heard the words of Mu'hij ibn Zarif, who teaches his apprentices the Sho virtues of the Four Stones of Jojii. As a child, running through the halls of the Arcanum at Tirethas, I often saw you deep in your studies." With a small, reserved smile, she added, "I believe I once stained your robes with the juice of a peach."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Vizier bowed slightly, amazed at her candor. "This is all true, my lady. If you are sincere in your desire to remain true to the teachings of the Arcanum, I would assist you in any way you ask. But, I must wonder, for the others in this chamber are a warrior and a maker of weapons. You speak of forging a silifi, for the Faris ibn Jaidah to lead your troops to victory. I pray you may forgive my temerity, but I do not see how this endeavor matches the beauty of your words."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Ladriya nodded, sorrowfully. "This is true, my Vizier. But I have spent the last fifteen years in Tirethas, watching your prophesy to my father become cold truth. The court at al-Nafalt is a den of thieves, all looking to murder one another for the throne. A woman from the far side of the desert, speaking words of peace and unity, would be laughed at. Then, she would be done away with. The glorious peace of ibn Rakhil died with him."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I would defend you with my life, Mu'allima," Tamsah said, quietly.

Favoring him with another tiny smile, Ladriya said, "I would rather you defend me with a fine weapon, my Faris. A weapon, no matter how precious, may be replaced."

"You wish me to forge this weapon," Raya said, boldly.

"I do, master smith," Ladriya said.

"And," Jumiz said, wearily, "you desire that I enchant it."


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Not quite, wise vizier. I desire that you enchant these." At this, Ladriya took a small, elaborately carved sandalwood box from the arm of her throne, and opened it. She motioned the others forward. There, on a bed of rich red velvet, lay the five gift rubies of Nurbi ibn Nuhqidh. Jumiz raised a brow, and Raya gasped at their beauty. Only Tamsah, who regarded them with a soldier's eye, remained unmoved.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I have named these rubies the Crimson Stars," Ladriya said, sounding most distant as she spoke. "Each is named for one of those in the cluster, which the nomads revere and fear in equal measure. It is my wish that you should enchant them as follows. Al-Shajar, named for the storm-demon in the old stories, should allow he who carries it to feel not the pains of lightning. The ruby al-Khur, which is named for the warlord known as the Eagle, should cause the blade to cut to the quick. . Yujazik, named for the flaming mountain the court of the old gods was built upon, should protect the bearer from the pains of


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
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fire. Mahwan, which is named for the citadel upon Yujazik, should enable its bearer to parry more blows. Sulmada, named for the old god of dance, should increase the agility of he who wields it."

"Those are mostly defensive spells, my lady," Tamsah said, sounding dubious.

"Indeed," said Ladriya, who stared fixedly at Jumiz. "So they are."

At this, the vizier smiled, though it was humorless. "And you desire that these jewels, once enchanted, be fitted into the haft of the silifi?"


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I do."

"This, then, is to be a weapon used in self-defense?"

"Only," Ladriya nodded, "for the protection of its bearer and his charge."

"I see." Jumiz steepled his hands before him, and frowned. Raya shifted, as if about to ask a question, but Tamsah laid a stilling hand upon her arm.


author_Name: Kayna bint Iswas
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At last, the vizier looked back to Ladriya. When he did so, he seemed to have gained in years. "I will do all you ask," he said, simply.

Ladriya looked upon him with gratitude, and sympathy. The three were dismissed to their tasks.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We command thee to take thyself and thy followers to the chamber of the great Nexus Crystal.  Do what thou wilt in the chamber, but take care not to disturb the Crystal itself.  Its mission is central to our campaign, its powers mickle, and its temperament even more hazardous than that of our arrogant high priest, Isin Dule.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We are understanding of thy position.  We know what doubts thou dost harbor in thy breast, even if thou wilt not speak them aloud.  I feel thy dismay in being sacrificed to further Isin Dule's vanity and schemes.  We have spoken our objections to our fellows.  Dule overrules us.  Ferah remains silent, maddeningly silent.  But we cannot help but sense the smirk on that one's featureless face.  In our small company, Ferah's silence is always taken as tacit approval of Dule's words.


author_Account: prewritten
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Know then, my soldier, that thou hast my sympathy, but thou must bear this duty until such time as we may arrange for thee a more worthy arrangement.  Stand strong and remain faithful.  Defend the Nexus Crystal against all the lackeys of the Yalain, but know that even if thou fail, our Dark Lord shall conquer.  The Hopegiver rewards his loyal children.


author_Name: Charred adventurer
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Beware the pits in this foul hole of a dungeon!  Once you land, keep running!

--a very charred adventurer


author_Account: prewritten
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My daughter,
   I regret coming to this undead world.  Yes, I use the world...undead...because death no longer exists here.  What good are the tenets of the Zharalim if death is no longer feared and is, at best, a temporary inconvenience?  Weaklings have come to regard this land as a sort of paradise because of their supposed immortality.  I say this immortality is a terrible sham.  We are locked in an endless, nightmarish cycle that has no exit.  We have separated ourselves from the possibility of true paradise, the reward that comes from a righteous existence and an honorable death.


author_Account: prewritten
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Enough of my maunderings.  The real reason I write to you is to send you a warning, my daughter.
I no longer trust these dark ones with whom I have allied myself.  Too late, I realize I was fooled by their whispered enticements.    We no longer fear our mortality, but rest assured there still exist things worse than death.  I feel my very soul being corrupted by the influences of the dark ones, and I am able to do nothing about it.  Increasingly I find myself unable to resist direct commands issued by their leaders.  I write to you while I still have some semblance of free will.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
When I arrived in Dereth, I explored the inhospitable wastelands to the west of the inner sea.  While there, running north from an ancient tower with a portal to the Aluvian town of Cragstone, I discovered a valley where dark, magical beings camped.  This was my first meeting with the dark ones, who seemed to be incarnations of the very ideals that we in the Zharalim tried to emulate.  They were grouped near a glowing portal that resonated a dark, menacing energy.  I heard some of them refer to it as...the Nexus...When they sensed my presence, they vanished the portal...This location must be important to them, then.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Discover the truth of this Nexus, my daughter.  It may be too late to save me, but if the dark ones can be defeated, perhaps you can save yourself.


author_Name: Oswald
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Farewell Gertarh. It's a shame I had to kill you, but the price on your head was too great and my purse too light.


author_Name: Hamud ibn Rafik
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My daughter,

My periods of lucidity now last only a few moments at a time.  I am sending this note to you with one of the new recruits in the Tenebrous Edge.  I am unable to leave my chambers in this ancient, cursed fortress.  I know now what will become of me.  The Dark Master himself spoke to me and told me what lies in store.   I know I will never reach the gardens of delight spoken of by ibn Salayyar.  In my years of service with the Zharalim, I became familiar with many horrors, but what awaits me now surpasses even the depraved rites of the Milantans.


author_Name: Hamud ibn Rafik
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Do not fall as I have fallen, my daughter.  Seek a way to escape Dereth.  I have heard that others have disappeared from this undead world.  My hope is that you will find a way to disappear as well.

Your devoted father


author_Name: Gormling
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Cousin,

I write to report success.  I have earned Tallial's trust and assumed a position as the seneschal of her castle.  In truth, it was easy, as she is still caught up in her grief over that fool Tremblant.  Inform MacDugal accordingly.

-Gormling


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Yuan Hanzu
For too long in Dereth, archers have had to settle for inferior wooden bows. Make no mistake, a good yumi carved from strong wood is a fearsome weapon. But the discriminating archer wields a composite bow, composed of horn, cured sinew, and oiled animal gut. The art of crafting a composite bow was perfected long ago in Ispar, but until very recently this intricate technique remained unknown in Dereth. In my quest to make such a bow in an unfamiliar land, I have had to improvise the materials used. Luckily the creatures of Dereth readily provides suitable substitutes for the required components. 
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author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The stave of the bow comes in two layers. The back of the stave is made from the horn of a large animal. Horn is ideal because it greatly resists compacting, increasing the amount of energy stored in the stave as the bow is drawn. A layer of cured sinew is stretched over the front of the horn. Sinew resists stretching, and works to reinforce the resistance of the horn. The combined result is a bow stave that provides a great deal of resistance but maintains full flexibility. Unfortunately, I have been unable to locate a craftsman skilled enough to shape the horn well enough for use in a bow, so I have had to do all the horn-carving myself.
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author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The string of the bow is added when the full stave has been assembled. Bowstring is best made from oiled animal gut. One must braid together three lengths of gut and treat them with alchemical oil to make a cord strong and resilient enough to bear the force exerted by the archer's pull and the bow stave's resistance. Curiously, I have also found that the braided tongues of certain serpentine beasts work almost as well as lengths of gut. Clearly, the art of the composite bow is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.
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author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Many archers less confident of their skill also choose to attach grips to their bows to aid in aiming. While I forego such amateurish trappings and prefer to rely on my own ability, I did experiment in crafting handles to attach to the stave. Morbidly enough, it seems that the best grip is afforded by bone, whittled to fit the contours of the stave and the archer's hand. As I said, I prefer to rely solely on my own hand, but I cannot deny the benefits of a shaped handle. The bone-handled bow I made makes archery almost too easy.
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author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My Aluvian friend, Barnar the Tinker, asked me if it is possible to assemble a crossbow this way, as many of his people prefer to use the crossbow. I venture that such a combination is possible, if one is able to mount the bow on a crossbow stock. I myself am not able to make crossbow stocks, and their internal mechanisms are beyond my understanding or caring. But Barnar was able to improvise a stock, using a large block of wood he said came from the heart of an animate tree-creature.
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author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Obviously one has to attach the stave to the stock before one strings up the crossbow. Barnar also says that the bone handle aids in his aiming, but is certainly not integral to a functional crossbow. Hopefully this knowledge will help you to make your own composite bow. It gives one a rare sense of accomplishment to wield a bow assembled with one's own hands, a bow that descends from an ancient and venerable Isparian art. Happy hunting!


author_Name: Ejan Aralea
author_Account: prewritten
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Greetings, old friend. May this find you well.

I have sent this messenger to you to inquire if you might have a certain spare part for the forging mechanisms in your possession. Tenkarrdun has been grumbley lately. You've probably heard, as I've heard that your Seral Ipharsis (Translator's note: literally,"Great Crown Besnowed") remains quiescent. Lucky woman! The mountains here may be hotter and more efficient forges, but they move with unsettling ease.


author_Name: Ejan Aralea
author_Account: prewritten
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Yes, I fear we've had more pieces of the forges be crushed or melted by fresh flows in the last few days. Specifically, I need a new set of bellows for the upper forging mechanism, up here in the caldera of Tenkarrdun. If you think that's bad, I also have to get a golem to replace the bars on one of the lower magma sluices. Hard to get at, those are - we'll actually have to send it through our reservoir and into a thermal fumarole at its bottom! Fortunately, we have a couple of those bars stashed away in our storerooms here. We'll have to fix that before we can get to work on the forge.


author_Name: Ejan Aralea
author_Account: prewritten
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I would normally send to Knorr for the bellows, but, well... Lord Asheron appears to have sealed the portals as his end. It's anyone's guess why. Some problem with his students, mayhaps. At any rate, I apologize for needing to plead poverty to you, Shaura. As soon as Knorr is open to travel once more, I will request replacement of your bellows.

Walk with light upon your shoulders.

                                       Ejan


author_Name: Kuyiza bint Zayi
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Translator's note: There is a word early in this text which defies easy conversion from Dericostian to Roulean. This I have rendered as "kemeroi," a direct phonetic equivalent of the original word.

Established lore has shown me this word used to describe an unprecedented number of circumstances, most of which are contradictory. By turns, kemeroi is used to express the concepts of stillborn offspring, unwelcome emissary, unseen or stealthy movement, corrupter or tempter, nightmare, madness or terrifying hallucination, unbidden thought, parasite, scream uttered


author_Name: Kuyiza bint Zayi
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
at awakening from a nightmare, thing that causes melting, liquid given form by a vessel, the touch of something frozen, and night that moves as a liquid.

The latter few of these many meanings are the most curious, as kemeroi is not a word of the so-called "Great Tongue" of Dericost, but rather the Base Tongue. The Great Tongue, with roots in the archaic dialect of the Falatacot, was used by the artisans as well as the aristocracy (and for that reason some of its words came into use by the Yalaini intelligencia).


author_Name: Kuyiza bint Zayi
author_Account: prewritten
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This, I feel, implies that descriptions such as "liquid night" are not merely poetic license, but literal description. At any rate, the context here seemed to indicate use of the word as a proper name. Of the definitions cited above, perhaps "unwelcome emissary" would work best. 

- Kuyiza bint Zayi


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Dearest Rytheran,

I regret I must send ill tidings, love. The dark spawn have now appeared in my cellars as well, below the levels infested by Asheron's vermin. They are older than the ones that trouble you, I believe; Uvriliim and Paanuvriliim. Fortunately, the Kemeroi still sleep. Should they appear again, I think the dark ones would cease to toy with the outlander hoard that vexes Killiakta. They would quickly be absorbed. 


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Thank whatever gods you may for this small mercy. The fact that you can still believe in the return of the Old Ones amuses me. Yes, I know, my dear; "Those which can eternal lie / In sleep, in dream / Should never die." The words of witches should not be relied upon. Ever did they neglect to mention the most important details. Trust least of all the oracles that later spawned the traitorous priestess of Ithaenc, potent though that blood may be. We should rely upon our own powers, as ever we have, not upon nebulous prognostications. I always found it suspicious that the witches could rhyme


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
while in the throes of an ecstasy induced by blood loss and fungal potions.

It is well that the outlanders continue to fight in our defense, if unwittingly. As it was with the peasantry of our own land, the living defend us in ignorance of our rulership. Such children. It is, I think, time past we began to act as their elders. We are Firstborn here. We must cease our bickering over the fall of the Ice Throne, over little baubles and flicker-lights that remain of Dericost's power and majesty. The Throne is overturned, and many days of the world have passed since. Wherever the


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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culpability may lie, there is no more to be
done about it. We must take a hand in present events once more, and move to preserve those whom we would rule. There is a new kingdom to be built.

Love, I can see you wrinkling your brow now. Fret not, for I do not sympathize with the policies of the Lords. I remain Wind in heart and soul; blowing from places unseen, taking a winding path to my object, changing much with the lightest touch. Shall I prove this to you?


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Recall the last coming of the dark spawn. I had established this little colony perhaps three centuries previous, whispering to Loritane through a chain of agents, telling him of the great treasures to be wrought beneath my mountains. He was quick to see my way, remember? His ships arrived so soon. We laughed, you and I, watching them scurry to build their port below Tenkarrdun, to excavate their reservoir, raise their towers, and install their forges. The way you whispered then was masterful - convincing Loritane to name the very island after me - Aerlinthe - "Stone of the Sky" in the Great Tongue! It still makes me smile to think you accomplished it.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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The Second Sending came, and the world reeled. So little time there was for me to expand my influence among the little lives below my mountains. Aralea - the first, that is -  quickly agreed to my agent's offer. Loritane's governor indeed! He was mine from the moment he lay eyes upon that grey-eyed willow-reed. A simple little draught, a small piece of the witches' arts for her drink, and she was his, and he mine. Such subterfuges still leave me heady. A pity Loritane discovered them. Yet it worked out for the best in the end, did it not? One child of Aralea became a smith, and the other an empress.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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When the barbarians fell back to Killiakta, did we not move unseen then? I counseled that we should all stand together, Filinuvekta and Latzimestal, Wind and Lord, lest those we sought to rule all be taken and twisted. I appealed to His Eternal Splendor and the Steward of Chalicmere, even as my sailing vessels held the vanguard of the enemy off the shores of Aerlinthe with mage-fire and lightning. I spoke that we should move united against the forces gathering off Killiakta, and buy time for the hedge-mages to complete their trap.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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So did we join, if only once, in the southern forests of Ifistra. The Winds rose from their hidden lairs, and the Lords marched from their bastions. While the hedge-mages struggled to rekindle the flame of old Facill's knowledge, the Battle of Ayn Tayan raged for three days. At cost, we held off their army. The barbarians, long since fled to the west of Killiakta, never knew. But we saved them. The children of Old Dericost fought and won a final battle, holding the line until their trap was prepared, and the Servant's curiosity piqued. If not for us, all would have perished.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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The irony is delicious, is it not? Those that so reviled us owed their victory to our intervention. All that remains to mark our moment of triumph are the bones and ash on the Hill of Pines. The cairns yet mark where the Sand King Nerash fell before Leikotha's tortured rage. Jaera fought beside Nerash at the end. Loyal to the last, she strove to defend him, but was slapped aside by the Servant himself. I was much pleased to hear that you had interred her remains at the Academy.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Do you remember the ire that rested upon His Eternal Splendor's brow when the enemy approached? That dark, perilous mist the Servant wrested from the kemeroi rolled over the land from horizon to horizon. The skirls of pitch vapor withered and fused whatever plant, earth, or flesh they touched. The skerries of hilltops that cleared the mist were hideous to behold.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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If there is one image of that day that will never escape my mind, it is the memory of the birds. A flock of sweet-voiced neuzali startled from their tree in panic, but the outlying tendrils of the ebon fog brushed one. It fell, shrieking, its flesh boiling away like tallow before a flame. It tried to flap its wings, but they dissolved into a fine spray. This spattered the flock, and they in turn burned, one by one.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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By the time the first bird had hit the ground, the rest were tumbling, smoking, flying as if drunk, crying in pain and terror, and straining their wings to escape. When all had fallen - I believe the last few actually splashed - all I could hear was a ghastly croaking from across the bottom of the hill. I saw a lone beak, a single grey-feathered throat, sticking up out of the charnel pools of flesh; altered and formless, yet clearly, horrifyingly, alive and conscious.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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I always loved the song of the neuzali. When I was a child in Gelid, a pair would nest in the evergreen outside my window. Every night in spring, they would call and whistle, so loud for such a small creature. I listened to their courting songs for hours. They were my lullaby.

Ah, but there at the front ranks of the enemy's hoard  - there marched rogue Firstborn, lead in bitterness by the captive chevaird Leikotha At the head of those deluded souls she stood, sword in hand;
still furious at Nerash for turning her,


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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and under the sway of Ferah's poison whispers. Ah, that vile legion, sworn to serve darkness for no greater reason than that the Servant was raised near Daralet. That thing, that usurper and pretender, is no kin of ours, no matter what slander the Yalain may cleave to.

His Eternal Splendor loosed great gales of magic upon the heretics, and the companies of Kelannik, Anadil, and Nerash crushed the survivors into carrion and dust. Only Leikotha escaped, fleeing once her vengeance slaked with the death of Nerash.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Whispers have reached me that in some places, a new generation of Firstborn serves the enemy. Old Fauzuil's retreat is said to serve as a gateway for them now. That is the complex the Yalain later partially converted to a laboratory, if you recall. They slew him and sealed his followers in behind a well-locked door. It would seem those long-forgotten servants have embraced the coming of the enemy's Servant. My sources say a Paanuvril nests there now, quite cozily.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Ah, again I digress into reminiscence. Perhaps I have slipped further towards the solipsism that ever stalks our kind. Be it not so! Perhaps I merely need something to do. I believe it may be our long inactivity that causes us to write these long letters that speak of little beyond old, unhappy, long-passed things. There is nothing to engage our minds but our own memoirs. I am bored, Rytheran, I admit it. I do not counsel war with the darkness because of my ennui, but my heart is glad of it, despite what may happen to me.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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I have found myself talking to myself, having conversations. Who else have I to speak with? The little stone-boned creatures in the port above? The smith Aralea, who hasn't even the mind to know he is dead? Alas, all I have at my call now are dead of Aerlinthe port, bound in ash and stone from when the mountains last awakened to spill liquid rock into the steaming sea. The plumes were a marvel to behold.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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You know as well as I the renanimated make poorer servants than the converted. On the other hand, their petrification has made them unusually strong. It is well the Olthoi came so soon after the eruption, I suppose. Otherwise the Yalain might have unearthed my keep in their bumbling, hamfisted attempts to recover their countrymen. We observed the Yalaini golem-workers excavating the reservoir long ago. It was not so precise an art as the Falatacot's lost geomancy.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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I have sent emissaries to the bastions of the Lords; foremost to Chalicmere itself, the open, defiant fortress in Diastra. It is sad to say, but the Latzimestal faction is much more capable of fighting a war than our own. On the other hand, we have eyes everywhere, and they care not for such things. We will discern the intentions of the enemy, and note the places they are weakest. Depending on what needs be done, we may whisper this news to the outlanders, or to the Lords.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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To Chalicmere I dispatched Faladha, from the house of Iharsi. His aristocratic Old Gelid manners will please the Steward, though I doubt not they will vex his servants. I do not trust Faladha, in truth. He is arrogant, and I believe he schemes to replace me as master of Aerlinthe. Yet, if Chalicmere can be convinced to war, that alone may be enough.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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Garaena, the girl you sent me before the eruption, I sent to moot with the Sand Kings. Their armies have long since blown away into dust, but it is their minds I desire. Before their disgrace at the feet of Gelid, they were the greatest of Dericost's generals; subtle and relentless. Having them with us would be a tremendous boon.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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For a child of Yalain, Gari (for so she insists I call her... a sweet girl) has a mind almost Dericost in its political shrewdness. When you singled her out from among your academy's students, you chose well indeed. Her only failings seem to be a lack of appreciation for the thoughtless violence the outlanders are prone to, and an obnoxious tendency to pine for her home on Atermore. I believe her charm will woo the Kings to our cause, unless she chats their ears off about that cursed island of hers.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
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In the meantime, I recently set whispers to run among the outlanders, revealing to them a few of the simpler battle and support spells known to our arts. Perhaps these shall make them better able hold the line until we are able to take decisive action. No doubt His Eternal Splendor would have disapproved of my decision. I feel, however, that waiting for the commitment of the Latzimestal is too great a risk. While the dark spawn work their poisons in the earth and gather their forces, I must do my best to arm what forces I may. As yet, that is merely my household guard and the oblivious outlanders. The poor children


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
know not the terror of darkness unleashed.

The dark spawn have gathered around the old stone-ring of my island. I think they mean to make a binding on them, though to what end I know not. The texts of the Falatacot are maddeningly vague about the constructs. I doubt they knew much more than we, only that they stood before their forefathers crawled in the mud, and are places of great power. The only words the Old Ones ever spoke of them, if speech it may be called, amount to, "Do not ask us of these artifacts, and do not disturb them." If the spawn intend to disturb them, perhaps there is something to these warnings.


author_Name: Lady Aerfalle
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Write soon, dear heart. I miss you, and I have need of your advice and assistance.

                                      ~ Aerfalle


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Being the Tale of Years for the Island and Port of Aerlinthe, which kneel before the Cerulean Throne of the Ancient and Glorious Seaborne Empire of Yalain.


RE 208: Shimena Keep constructed on the northeast islet. Shimena guarded the northern approaches to Ireth Lassel research colony from Pelagian sea-nomads.

RE 213: A larchess tree is planted within the walls of Shimena Keep.


author_Name: Tale of Years
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RE 221: Hearing from former Shimena garrison troops of great riches on this island, Lord Gevran Loritane of Elancia visits aboard his sailing skyship Tinoriel. He discovers great mineral wealth, and magma flows of sufficient temperature to permit the forging of mana-alloy. The enchanters Eosonn and Auriam are crushed by a magma tube cave-in when the land quakes. Without the ability to levitate Tinoriel, the ship returns to Glystenae over sea.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 222: Loritane sends sixteen great ocean-galleons and two skyships to the island, carrying the supplies necessary to build a mining outpost. Lord Loritane and Lady Raina accompany the vessels in Tinoriel.

The navigation channel into the lagoon is dredged.

Reservoir dug to collect rainwater. All local water sources tainted with sulphur and ash. An Old Ring, buried under ash and ejecta, is found during the digging. It is left undisturbed, but considered a good omen.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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The island is titled Aerlinthe by Lord Loritane, a name which came to him in a dream. The central volcano is known of old to be called Tenkarrdun, Dericost for "Stoic Blood." The smaller peaks to the northwest and northeast are found to have been named Cunara ("Steaming Heights") and Ernassen ("Land Reflected"), respectively. The lagoon is dubbed Raina's Harbor.

RE 223: Completion of the light-towers of Weretirae and Eretirae, on either side of the navigation channel.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 225: Tenkarrdun's forges return their first profit. Loritane and Raina return to Elancia. Lady Raina convinces Loritane to appoint master smith Hare Aralea as governor of Aerlinthe.

RE 230: His Most Dignified and Serene Majesty Emperor Kellin, seventh in the Line of Alaidain, dies. His son Delophon takes the Cerulean Throne, assuming the Imperial Name of Caerlin ("Lord of the Deep Waters").


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 274: The Blessing of Aerlinthe. A gromnatross makes her aerie on the peaks of Cunara. She is named Aurlanaa by the people of the port.

RE 313: Expansion of the foundry; two new forges added.

RE 317: The outgassing of noxious fumes from Ernassen forces a two-month evacuation to Ireth Lassel.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 323: Battle of Shimena. Twenty Imperial chevairds and forty-four household troops of Loritane perish while holding at bay a raiding force of five hundred Pelagic sea-nomads, embarked in two dozen sailing vessels of war.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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Battle of the Towers. Seeking revenge for the defeat at Shimena, the Pelagian band returns and attacks from the south. Mages under the direction of Aralea ascend the light-towers and pour fire down upon the decks of their ships. The Coral Golems used to keep the navigation channel clear rip the keels from their ships. The southern attack is repulsed, though sunken vessels block the channel for a month. A second landing to the west, near the reservoir, results in the looting and partial razing of the port. Over one hundred die, and many are taken captive by the sea-nomads.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 324: In response to the raids, Emperor Caerlin declares the port of Aerlinthe an Imperial anchorage and treasure port. Four war galleons and seven fast skysloops, for scouting and messenger duty, drop anchor in Raina's Harbor. They bring with them an additional hundred chevairds to garrison the island. Aerlinthe is acknowledged as one of the most important sources of pyreal in the Empire.

RE 329: The sailing platform-city of the sea-nomads that raided Aerlinthe in 323 is tracked and taken by the Imperial naval force. Most of the Aerlinthe captives are found enslaved in galley oarlocks.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 331: The Eaulinthe ("Star-Stone") is found in the deepest crevasses of Tenkarrdun. This large diamond contains a small amount of liquid magma, kept hot and brightly shining through unknown magical means.

RE 340: Raina's Harbor boils. A new fumarole opens at the bottom, heating the water to scalding temperatures. The Imperial ships are anchored at Shimena while golems dig a new land outlet for the gasses, then seal the fumarole.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 349: Memorial Stone erected in Shimena Keep, inscribed with the names of all who died in the Pelagic raids of 323.

RE 371: The forges begin to produce weapons designed by Lord Atlan of Knorr. Lord Loritane takes the finest axe, and has the Eaulinthe fixed upon its blade.  With this weapon he joins the northern army at Planae.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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Loritane disappears in the Dericost Marches, along with most of Atlan's army. Lady Raina assumes control of Loritane's house and holdings. Hare Aralea renews his oaths of fealty to the Lady in person, traveling to her castle in Glystenae via fast skyship.

Lady Raina announces she carries a child of Loritane.

RE 372: Raina gives birth to a daughter, whom she names Clari.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 388: Nesortania Province overrun by the forces of the Hopeslayer. Lady Raina takes Clari and her household, and flees to the Imperial Archipelago.

RE 392: The city of Elancia in Glystenae falls under shadow.

TE 426: Caerlin replaces the galleon Minaera, last of the original Imperial patrol squadron, with the new sailing frigate Reithyis.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 502: Prince Durglen Realaidain, son of the Emperor, announces that he will take the hand of Clari Loritane, Mistress of Aerlinthe, and walk by her side into darkness or dawn.

RE 507 Prince Durglen joins hands with Mistress Clari in the Iphvircae Cliffs Cathedral.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 567: A large colony of mulardil are discovered in the Naarcaerel Reef by the fisher-woman Julitaen, a poor resident of the harbor tempest floats. She is titled mistress of the mular-pearl harvest by Hare Aralea, and hires all the other residents of the floats.

RE 886: Ejan Aralae, son of Hare, succeeds his father as master smith and governor of Aerlinthe.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 893: Emperor Caerlin is brushed by Black Madness in battle, and becomes leprous with Ayai Heauviri.*

(* Translators note: Ayai is Empyrean for "burning." Heauviri, literally means "high-thought-wind." This may be the Yalain equivalent of "soul." Based on context, which suggest disease and decay, I would judge our closest translation of Ayai Heauviri to be "the Soulburn Plague." - Bretself)


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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RE 895: Aurlanaa leaves her aerie on the peak of Cunara. She meets several other gromnatross south of Aerlinthe, and they ascend, disappearing into the heavens. No gromnatross are seen on Auberean for twenty-two years.

Severe lightning-storms and strange glows come over the southeast waters. The population is evacuated to the west.

Darkness falls upon the shores of Ireth Lassel. A vast reach of Black Madness and fifteen Thorns accompany the Hopeslayer, his generals, and their army.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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Darkness defeated. The Hopeslayer is entrapped in the mage council's array. The explosive power released destroys the Jailne Lyceum, kills the entire council, and shatters the array into pieces. One piece lands on Aerlinthe, but is recovered before it can dig itself into the ground.

With the defeat of the Hopeslayer, the Rhethis Eipoth (Era of Lore) is concluded by decree of Emperor Caerlin. The Torethis Eipoth (Second Era of Lore) is declared.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 1: The population returns to Aerlinthe, and the forges are reopened. Raina returns to Elancia.

Elders from Ithaenc arrive to care for Aurlanaa's abandoned childer.

Hare Aralea and his wife Malestra return to their homeland of Elancia. Hare becomes one of Lady Raina's counselors.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 2: His Most Dignified and Serene Majesty Emperor Caerlin, eighth in the Line of Alaidain, dies from the Soulburn Plague after six months of insanity. He is 773 years old. His son Caerlin II ascends to the Cerulaean Throne, and Clari, Mistress of Elancia and Aerlinthe, becomes Empress of the Thousand Seas. Raina remains the Dowager Lady of Elancia and Aerlinthe.

TE 8: The older forges are replaced.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 11: A daughter, Alhallie, is born to Caerlin and Clari. A Festival Year is declared in Elancia and Aerlinthe.

TE 17: The Return of Grace. The gromnatross come down from the stars. Aurlanaa alights upon her aerie at Cunara. She looks into the eye of Kelderam, a ward of Ithaenc since her early 100's, and considered hopelessly mad. Kelderam is jauniril*, and lapses into unconsciousness. When she awakens, she weeps for a full day, and is afterwards restored in mind and spirit. In her waning years, Kelderam led the Adjanite Order, and was renowned for her wisdom and serenity.


author_Name: Tale of Years
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(*Translator's note: By context, "jauniril" would seem to be a verb. I have never encountered this word before, however, and know not what it means. - Bretself)

TE 101: A landquake blocks the navigation channel.

TE 218: Lady Raina dies in her sleep, at the age of 1013. Clari becomes Lady of Elancia and Aerlinthe, making her family's lands Imperial Provinces.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 275: The legendary traveling entertainer Surinna Thrasyl stops at Aerlinthe.

TE 333: The mutilated corpse of the missionary Lady Galaeral of Ithaenc is found off the north shore.

TE 334: Imperial Inquisitor Lady Alibec arrives to investigate the murder of Galaeral. She uncovers a small group of undead hiding in the bowels of the reservoir, and destroys them. The chamber in which they performed the deed is sealed. The origin and motives of the undead remain unresolved.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 413: Empress Clari dies in a boating accident at the age of 937. Princess Alhallie becomes Lady of Elancia and Aerlinthe.

TE 416: Catriae Tamanea's rogue fleet defeats the flotilla at Aerlinthe, and pillages the port. Over twelve million pyreal coins are looted.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 422: Piteous screams are heard from behind the door Inquisitor Alibec sealed in 334. It is forced open, but the room is empty, and the scene of Galaeral's murder remains as it was when the door was erected. Shrieks of pain and incomprehensible, mumbling  chants are occasionally heard from the room, leading workers to whisper that the missionary's soul remains in torment at the place of her death.

TE: 428: Princess Alhallie visits Aerlinthe, while on her tour of the provinces. She gathers research for a planned travelogue.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 450: After the census, Emperor Caerlin announces that Tentael has a population of over one million, most under the age of 400. Aerlinthe's population is less than 100, but nearly 1000 golems work the forges at any time.

TE 463: Massive collapse of the Tenkarrdun forge tunnels during a landquake. Four workers are crushed, another sixteen trapped and suffocated. The entire lower quarter of the foundry is cut off. Shifting rock makes reopening the tunnels too risky, and Ejan decides to build a new forge works further up the mountain.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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TE 464: The new forges are completed. Due to the distance between them and the magma flows, production is less than half of that before the collapse.

TE 477: Princess Alhallie joins hands with Lord Cashtal Ronain of Haebrous. Lord Cashtal's last name is changed to Realaidain.

TE 504: His Most Dignified and Serene Majesty Emperor Caerlin II, ninth in the Line of Alaidain, dies at the age of 1022 years. Alhallie ascends to the Cerulean Throne, and takes the Imperial Name of Cellaurai ("Consecrated by Starlight").


author_Name: Tale of Years
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TE 513: The Great Northern Tempest. Mages hold off the worst of the storm for three days. The Naarcaerel Reef is ripped apart by storm-tides.

TE 622: A Skytower arrives at Shimena, and is used to patrol the northeast waters.

TE 664: Isin Aemil, child of Aerlinthe, becomes an admiral of the Imperial fleet.

TE 761: With the development of practical portal travel by Asheron, Empress Cellaurai declares a new Era has begun. The Torethis Eipoth is concluded, and the Hyrethis Eipoth (Third Era of Lore) begins.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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HE 95: Adept Delacim arrives at Aerlinthe and opens fixed portals to Ithaenc, Haelan, Knorr, Nesortania, Elancia, Jalis, Aribel, Alastinae, Dernehale, Larchess, and the works at Seral Ipharsis and Lamihaar.

HE 142: Nali Athanas reforms the northern church.

HE 145: A new temple is built in Aerlinthe.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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HE 232: Empress Cellauri disappears while on a tour of Haebrous, with the ultimate intention of holding a moot with the Nali and other high dignitaries of the reformed northern church at Aventin. The Haebrous report that her party attempted to ascend the peaks of the Venalben Range, where gromnatross are known to reside.

HE 233: After eighteen months of fruitless searching for Empress Cellauri, Cashtal Realaidain is declared Emperor. He takes the name Kellin II ("Righteous Lord").


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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HE 239: The Nali relocates from Aventin to Tentael at the invitation of Emperor Kellin.

HE 347: Fifty-six people of Aerlinthe answer the call of Nali Valind, and participate in the extirpation of the Adjanite heretics.

HE 348: The Rejection. Troops returning from Valind's desecration and sack of Ithaenc climb Cunara to seek Aurlanaa's blessing. The gromnatross slays them all on sight, and departs Aerlinthe, never to be seen again.


author_Name: Tale of Years
author_Account: prewritten
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HE 459: Severe landquakes cause magma flows in the upper forge tunnels. Smiths remove to the port while golems effect repairs.


author_Name: Mistress Domino
author_Account: prewritten
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Welcome to The Halls of Xanadu

If you have come so far, risen so high, that you may read these words than you justly deserve entrance to this hall.

Within you will find refreshment, rejuvination, and revelry. And you will know that your companions have made similar accomplishments as you, or they would not be here.

Make yourself at home, you may come and go as you please.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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In my capacity as a sage and researcher, I am lucky to receive regular reports from a few adventuresome acquaintances.  The observations and information they bring me is invaluable intelligence.  I have cause once more to be grateful for their assiduous exploratory endeavors, because the news I have recently received from a pair of my contacts is of a compelling, and perhaps even alarming, character.


author_Account: prewritten
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Apparently the Lugians have commenced excavations at several sites in the mountains of southern Osteth.  They are mining a heretofore unknown ore that we have named chorizite.  The mineral seems to be unusually dense, almost impractically so.  Despite the prohibitive weight of the ore, some Lugians were  observed smelting and refining the ore, though to which ends are anyone's guess.  At great risk, one brave soul was able to purloin a few precious nuggets of this ore.


author_Account: prewritten
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After a long period of investigation, I found that this chorizite has a most singular property...it actually seems to repel magical energy!  Indeed, to conduct such a thorough analysis of the chorizite's qualities was no small intellectual feat.  Finding the mineral completely resistant to any magical divination, I improvised different diagnostic techniques. In deference, however, to those without the ability or patience to comprehend such esotericism, I will forego further detail and simply report my findings.


author_Account: prewritten
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The chorizite comes in several degrees of purity.  Lack of a large sample prevents me from making definitive conclusions, but I have observed that the properties of the chorizite change as its purity rises.  The less-concentrated chorizite actively repels magic.  The higher quality ore is even more curious.  It still resists magic, but not to the degree that the less pure ore does.  In fact,  it actually seems to store some pseudo-magical power of its own!


author_Account: prewritten
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One can only speculate what purpose the Lugians intend for this ore.  One might suppose that the Lugians, being a non-magical race, are hoping to develop defenses against our own race's potent magical abilities.  My fellow sages, Gondo Kanezo of the Sho and Zarea bint Zia of the Gharu'ndim, are researching this possibility.  Admittedly, they have proven more adept at discovering practical applications for new discoveries.


author_Account: prewritten
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The source of the chorizite is an even more absorbing question.  Where could this remarkable mineral have originated? I am just beginning my considerations of this matter, but I am intrigued by the possibility that this chorizite could somehow be related to the long-ago magical explosion which created the Obsidian Plains.  I suspect this mystery will occupy my thoughts for many days to come.


author_Name: by Gondo Kanezo
author_Account: prewritten
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Some time ago, I received a rare treat: my esteemed, if  long-winded, colleague Aliester sent me some samples of what he called chorizite ore.  This ore apparently was stolen from some mines operated by Lugians in the southern mountains.  Aliester explained to me its strangely "anti-magical" properties and asked about possible practical applications for this new ore.  Curious and intrigued, I agreed to work on it and see what I could come up with.


author_Account: prewritten
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It was a frustrating process, to say the least.  The ore proved to be remarkably difficult to work with, no matter what method I tried.  It evaded any kind of magical analysis.  Alchemical and metallurgical analysis proved difficult, but not impossible.  This leads me to conclude that a smith or an alchemist of great skill might be able to work the mineral in some practical way, but only with an extreme amount of effort and energy.


author_Account: prewritten
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The good news is that chorizite melts.  It is a fairly simple task to smelt the impurities out of the raw ore.  Once reduced to its unadulterated form, it seems like an ideal substance to forge into metal.  It is dense, rigid without being brittle, very very hard, and keeps a sharp edge.  Any metal crafted from chorizite would almost certainly be very powerful.


author_Account: prewritten
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The bad news is that it takes great resources to generate the kind of heat necessary to shape the metal. Shaping chorizite is so difficult, in fact, and requires so much energy expenditure, that it may be impractical to use on any significant scale.  I am looking for easy ways to generate the necessary heat, however, because I am curious to see just what will happen when I forge this "anti-magic" mineral into a weapon.


author_Account: prewritten
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I have also found that one grade of chorizite, neither very light nor very concentrated, is brittle enough to break up into a rough powder with mortar and pestle.  Again, however, the ore proves to be maddening to study.  No matter how thoroughly my apprentices ground the ore, it never reduced to the kind of fine powder necessary for alchemy.  I was finally able to make some kind of essence of chorizite by melting the coarse grains in vitriol.  


author_Account: prewritten
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My next step is to experiment with uses for this distillation, either in alchemical potions or as a possible reagent in magic casting.  No doubt the exceptional properties of chorizite will have some interesting effects...


author_Name: Mi Krau-Li
author_Account: prewritten
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To whichever thoughtless person buried me here: I'm not dead! I am too busy to die! And if you should happen to find my jitte, which you did not even have the decency to bury with me, please look for me in the hills on the eastern edge of the desert, near 35.1S, 23.8E. I am hoping to build a workshop there, where I may continue my work on the perfect jitte.


author_Account: prewritten
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In the days when Isparians were new to Dereth, one of the courageous heroes who defended our people against Dereth's monsters was a jitte-wielder of great skill named Mi Krau-Li. He was obsessed with the creation of the "perfect" jitte. Mi Krau-Li disappeared into the hills southwest of Fort Witshire, around 17.3N 32.8E, shortly before the appearance of the first lifestones.


author_Name: On Chocolate
author_Account: prewritten
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ON CHOCOLATE
Chocolate in Ispar was a magical thing: It was reputed to heal, boost mana, or restore stamina, depending on method of  preparation.  Almost an alchemical agent in its own right -  as seen in its resistance to alchemical influence -  it is nonetheless edible and quite pleasant.  This won chocolate everything from accolades to alchemists' treatises.  Alas that it is not native to Dereth, but it appears the problem is now remedied.....


author_Name: Chocolate in Dereth
author_Account: prewritten
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CHOCOLATE IN DERETH
Some Isparian seeds, planted years ago, have apparently at last produced mature trees.  Some monsters collect the beans and carry them around protectively, apparently finding them tastier once fermented.  (Fermented beans are brown in color.)
Alas, it seems too many people have lost their old heirloom chocolate recipes, a tragic loss with this fine ingredient at last available.  Soon, I hope to fill these pages with the potent recipes that bring out the power of chocolate!


author_Name: Basic Chocolate Making
author_Account: prewritten
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HOW TO PREPARE CHOCOLATE
To prepare the precious fermented cacao beans, roast them in a baking pan.  Next, use a heavy grinder on them to produce chocolate liquor, vital for making chocolate ice cream.  A metal press applied to the chocolate liquor yields cocoa powder, which is a vital ingredient for classics such as mocha and chocolate cake.  Applying chocolate liquor to cocoa powder produces a rich cocoa mixture for making chocolate confections.


author_Name: Chocolate Milk
author_Account: prewritten
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KHALLAYNE'S CHOCOLATE MILK
Khallayne of Thistledown, with help from Raynie, provided this simple but tasty drink called chocolate milk.  Cocoa powder added to milk produces a dark, rather bitter milk that most people do not enjoy.  Mixing this bitter milk with honey, however, brings out the fine flavor of the cocoa while providing a reassuring sweetness.


author_Name: Basic Chocolate Cake
author_Account: prewritten
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RHIANNON'S CHOCOLATE CAKE
Rhiannon Morgana of Frostfell, with contributions from Touryan Kurigsun, supplied this simple recipe for a wonderful variation of old fashioned cake.  Chocolate cake is made by mixing cake batter with cocoa powder, and then baking the result in a baking pan.  A moist, rich, dark brown cake is the result.


author_Name: Chocolate Ice Cream
author_Account: prewritten
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BETTY CROCKER'S CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM
Chocolate Ice Cream, a delicious treat created by Betty Crocker of Leafcull (with help from famed Cragstone Farms Catering), is simple to make once one has mastered the art of making ice cream.  The key is to add chocolate liquor to the finished ice cream, and the result perfectly combines the unique deep, rich flavor of chocolate with the cold, melting sweetness of ice cream.  So amazing is this creation that it is said to heal the body!


author_Name: Chocolate Bars
author_Account: prewritten
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CHEN KENICHI'S DARK CHOCOLATE BAR
Chen Kenichi of Frostfell, with the group known as Vitae Rising, gave us this recipe.  Adding chocolate liquor to cocoa powder produces a thick cocoa mixture.  This mixture, mixed with honey and properly tempered, produces a bar of crisp dark chocolate.  It is pure culinary enjoyment, belying its popular name of "Vitae Bar."  "Wi loves it!"


author_Name: Milk Chocolate Bars
author_Account: prewritten
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HO CHUN'S MILK CHOCOLATE BAR
Ho Chun of Frostfell, with help from Theran Bakagin, provided this refreshing variation of a plain dark chocolate bar.  Take the same cocoa mixture as above, and mix with milk before adding the honey.  The result is a mellow, gentler confection!


author_Name: Hot Mochas
author_Account: prewritten
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AIYAAN SHIEFU'S MOCHA
Mocha, in this recipe provided by Aiyaan Shiefu of Leafcull (with help from the Silver Citadel), starts off as a mixture of cocoa powder added to coffee.  This produces a mocha base that really requires milk to be complete.  The resulting drink combines the refreshing flavors of coffee and chocolate and the sweet depth of milk.


author_Name: Rich Mocha
author_Account: prewritten
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ATSUSHI'S RICH MOCHA
Atsushi of Morningthaw, with assistance from Deckape, discovered that a final addition of cinnamon complements the coffee and chocolate flavors, producing a superior, rich mocha drink.


author_Name: Iced Mochas
author_Account: prewritten
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YAKAMURA SHINJI'S ICED MOCHA
Yakamura Shinji of Frostfell gave us this recipe for a variation of mocha that provides an entirely different effect than most beverages.  Iced mocha requires one to first grind some food-quality ice to produce crushed ice.  Crushed ice, applied to mocha, cools it down, and the result is one that mages in particular enjoy.


author_Name: Rich Iced Mochas
author_Account: prewritten
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ELANWEN'S RICH ICED MOCHA
Elanwen of Harvestgain, with help from Jenna, tried the same trick with rich mocha, and the result, as one would expect, is even better than with plain mocha.  In many people's opinion, no other drink is as refreshing to the mind and spirit as a rich iced mocha!


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In the wake of the recent attacks on our honored gemstone armor smiths, my colleagues and I have embarked upon extensive investigations into the properties of shadows, crystal beasts, and gems. The weakening by repeated death of our three master smiths, while a terrible tragedy and an ill omen for all Dereth, has actually provided exciting new avenues of inquiry. The fused gems never cease to amaze us with their versatility and mystifying qualities.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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Due to a precipitous loss in their skills, the master smiths are no longer able to invest as much of the fused gems' power in the armor suits they craft. More specifically, the gemstone armor's elemental resistances, which were once the foundation of the armor's power, have suffered dramatically. My esteemed colleague Gondo Kanezo has bent his considerable mental prowess to an effort to restore the lost elemental strength. Thanks to my own research in the abstract realm of the armor's abstract qualities, we may have found a solution.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It all goes back to the legendary work of the Lady Maila, once the head of a great school of learning in the Empyrean civilization. Artifacts and writing point to Lady Maila as a sorceress and enchantress of great power and learning. We know she was part of the mage council that crafted the crystals, means of imprisoning the essence of Bael'Zharon and exiling him from our mortal realm. We also know from more recently unearthed evidence that Lady Maila was instrumental in the creation of the stones used to empower Atlan weapons.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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Far be it from me to criticize a lady of great learning and accomplishment, but it seems that Lady Maila took some of the shortcuts which all of us involved in magical experimentation and creation are wont to use. It seems Lady Maila re-used many of the alchemical and magical techniques she used in the elemental stones' crafting when she and her council decided to craft the great crystals to imprison Bael'Zharon. I will not fault the Lady Maila for this method. No doubt her ability to borrow from her previous work simplified the process of creating the crystal array.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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Serendipitously enough, Lady Maila's work of convenience becomes quite a boon to our people, the inheritors of the war against the shadows. As any mage worth his reagents knows, sympathy and resonance is indispensable to proper and effective magical work. The fused gems, one half crystal essence, seem to have an affinity to the resonance of the elemental stones, crafted as they were by the same great mage. One can only hope that we sages and magicians of Dereth will be able to leave as strong and enduring a legacy as the honored Lady Maila.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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This resonance remained undetected for so long because the fused gems sacrificed so much of their power to the strength of the armor. With the inert metal of the armor leeching away less of the gems' essence, the suits themselves become more compatible with the resonance of the greater elemental stones. 


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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Gondo Kanezo has confirmed that the new suits of armor, while intrinsically less powerful than their previous incarnations, can be imbued with the strength of the elemental stones. The individual stones confer a greater resistance to their associated elements than the original suits of gemstone armor were ever able to provide, though it must be noted that drastic improvement comes at the price of increased vulnerability to the "opposed" element.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The effect of the Atlan stones, however, are not solely beneficial. When the armor takes on the elemental properties of the stones, and even becomes physically, it becomes resistant to magical enhancement. Thus the armor becomes immune to the augmentation normally provided by Item magic. The elemental stones need to be removed from pieces of armor before one is able to enchant them as normal.


author_Name: by Aliester the Loquacious
author_Account: prewritten
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I have yet to divine the exact reason for the incompatibility of elemental armors and magic. I can only speculate that there are greater magical forces at work, resulting from the intricacies of Lady Maila's craft, than I, a newcomer to this world, am able to fully comprehend. One would hope that in the future, I will be able to solve the mystery of Lady Maila's creation.


author_Account: prewritten
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WARNING!

You can be trapped in this arena!
The only way to leave the battle ground or the judging platform is to open a door from the judging platform!

* To exit the judging platform, make sure you open the doors with the levers, then jump down to leave.

* If you are trapped on the battle ground, you will need someone on the judging platform to open a door.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
She sat in the shade of a Direlands tree, just on the outskirts of Ayan Baqur. A bottle of ink sat on a rock before her, and the corners of her parchment were weighted from the sea breeze with stones. This was a favorite place of hers, in between the freshness of the ocean and the rawness of the Direlands settlement. It was peaceful enough to write, but still close enough to town to hear when trouble arose.

The parchment lay blank before her.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"How does one address a letter to another of such greatness?" she wondered. "I should not even be doing this. Surely His Grace is much to busy to listen to the lamentations of one such as me. He most likely will not even bother to read my letter. I'm sure His Grace has much more pressing matters... but... perhaps... well, there is always hope. But what title of address does one use for one whom so many view as almost a god?


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Do gods truly exist? The ancient writings found on this island speak of the existence of 'witch gods.' The Falatacot once worshipped these gods, but that race no longer walks upon this land. Perhaps their gods left with them.

"Some worship Bael'Zharon as if he were a god. Altars have been erected in his name, but he is merely the servant of some great Unseen Master. Regardless, if the 'Master' is a god or not, he shall never receive my prayers or homage.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Is Asheron a god? I think not. Although men may invoke his name when granted good fortune, or curse it for being brought here, I see him as a foolish mage who toyed with magics beyond his capabilities. Through his folly, his people became enslaved and mine have been snatched from our homeland to cleanse his land of the evil Olthoi.

"Were we actually 'chosen' by Asheron to come here? Or did he merely plant his portals upon the face of Ispar for the unwary and curious to stumble upon?"


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
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The Aluvian woman chucked to herself. "I should be asking His Grace all these questions! No doubt in my mind, if anyone knows the answers, it is He."

She placed her quill, a fine, snow-white pinion from a gull, to the parchment.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Dear, Your Holiness?" She spoke it out loud to hear its sound on her tongue as she often did when writing her tales. "Does not sound right," she thought. "I have seen others address Him as 'Your Excellency,' but that sounds more like the title of a king. Still, others have done it..."

She wrote finally, in her painstaking elaborately neat script.

                                * * *

Dear Your Excellency,


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Once I had thought I had a purpose here. I had at first thought it was to grow strong as an archer-warrior, of the Light; to join the growing army of my Lord Rand's Queen. I did not think so many had heard my songs and tales that I had been writing to simply to maintain my own sanity here. But, somehow, even from the remote valley of Stonehold, they heard my voice. It was then I realized, that perhaps I was to serve the Light here in another way. The island of Dereth was already abundant with strong warriors and powerful mages. While I would always be willing and eager to take up the bow against evil, this was not where my strengths lie.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The people listened to me, even those who hated, and reviled, and mocked so viciously what I sang and wrote of. Some have called me a whore, a propagandist, a traitor, a troublemaker. But then there were those people who said I brought life, and meaning, and beauty, to the face of Dereth. Many a man and woman have since told me that it was I who sent them to seek the Light, I who restored their waning sanity with some heartfelt tale of my own experience. For a while, I felt as if I had found the reason why Asheron had called me here. I had thought I'd found my niche.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
If ever I did find my niche in this land, the violence, hatred, and betrayal that fills it has worn down that niche. It is now a small cleft in a stone and I am near dislodged from it.

I write to Your Grace because I have recently left the comfort and security of my guild, the Circle of the Eternal Dragon, as You Eternal Wisdom knew I would. I finally felt like I was taking more from them than I was able to give in return. I long for the time when I can return to the Circle; I will always be their Song Dragon in my heart. Just as my love, Shiro Amano,


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
must have felt his protection was slowly weakening us both, I felt I was slowly weakening the Circle as I sought my own strengths. Once, I strengthened them by the very recognition of my name, but as my name now falls into obscurity and possibly disrenown for my stubbornness, I will not risk tarnishing the Dragons' righteous reputation.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I seek only to walk the path of the Light as it grows dimmer each month in my new homeland. Many who have also walked this path, have now turned to the Darkness for the temporary sanctuary it offers. They realize not that once the Dark Servant is freed from his prison, as they say he will be, that it is they who will become his first slaves. I feel no hatred for them, only pity that their spirits were not strong enough to resist the temptations evil offers. It is not these whom I fear though.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I fear those who walk in the Light as I do, for the righteous are often the most critical of one another. It is my co-patriots who wish to see me stumble and fall from the grace of Light, for if indeed I ever were to do so, it would be easier for them to accept a darker, more relaxed life. I never will give in to the temptations of Bael'Zharon or his Dark Master, and I seek to harm only those who have done so. If his plans for domination are ever foiled, I hope to be among those responsible. But I fear the power that I may have once had here is fading.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have followed the Codes of the High King Pwyll since I even knew of their existence, but I will never be a noble knight. I have strived to follow all four stones on the Sho path to Paradise, but I will never be a great prophet like Jojii. I have fought many battles, practiced diplomacy, and have embraced the arts, but I will never be as revered as Yasif ibn Salayyar. If the followers of the Light close their ears to me, I know of no other way which to fight the Darkness. Though the more I try to be heard, it seems the more enemies I make, yet I can not keep silent about such things which I feel so strongly about.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There has only been one which I have openly spoke ill of, and Your Grace knows the one to whom I refer. Much time has passed since then, and that one's presence has vanished from the land. Not since those days, have I spoken such negative words of anyone, yet even those whom I once thought of as friends have found reason to speak so of me. I have asked what I have done to upset so many, and am only told things, which make me who I am. I cannot and do not want to change who I am. I have many weaknesses, yes, but those, which have been named, are also my greatest strengths. If the Followers of the Light do not support my fighting the Darkness with


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
the only weapons which I am most empowered by, than I have no use here. If this is to be, then perhaps I must find a way to return to Ispar.

I remember little of my life back on Ispar. They told me it was "portal trauma" which erased most of my memories, but I still have remnants of my past life, floating amongst the songs in my head. It's odd how I remember the songs, which I sang, hundreds of them, but I remember not their context, or the names and places mentioned within. I was told that I was from Aluvia, when they found me after I arrived here, but


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I had to read many texts, to learn where even that land lay. 

I remember performing for great audiences gathered around me in the town square, after which coins and gems were thrown at my feet. I remember the occasional private performance given at some noble Aluvian Lord's wedding, or to entertain some solitary, but wealthy, old mage. I remember receiving gifts of rare jewels and fine Sho silks for a song, which might have particularly touched someone's heart.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I remember the scandal that was created when I turned down an offer for my hand which had come from the King's own distant cousin. I remember a man, who could have only been the one who did become my husband, but the love we shared was as cold and passionless as the Silveran lands from which he hailed. I cannot even remember his name, or how I came to be his wife. But I was content in that former life, and I was bored. I longed to experience the adventures of which I sang. Then the portal must have appeared before me.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I don't remember it, but having seen the portals here on Dereth, I can just imagine how that naive girl I once was would find that portal to be a summons or call of sorts. Its humming and singing must have mesmerized me. Its swirling, glowing beauty must have promised adventure and romance. It was art, it was song, it was the experiences of a strange new world, it was everything that I had been lacking on Ispar.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
And so here I am, no longer a victim of that bored contentment. Instead, I am exasperated, exhausted. There is much I wish I could do for the Light, but I am only one, and will never possess the wisdom or physical power to fulfill what I dream. I feel as if I have been singing my song at the top of my lungs for all these months, and once I might have been heard by many. My song gave men and women faith, perseverance, hope that all would never be lost, but now my voice grows hoarse. Many of those who once strained to hear me, now close out my words, as they would a crone with a grating voice.


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
If there is still work for me to do here, than I must stay. But I ask that if there is still more for me to do, that Your Grace will send me some small sign of which direction I must take on my new solo path. Perhaps if my love, Shiro, still walked with me, I would be better guided, but for now I am burdened by my loneliness and self-doubt. I know I must now walk alone, without the protection and companionship that a guild would offer, but I do not know if I can do it. The words to a song come to my mind: "I can not see the path ahead, and I fear where my feet doth tread, for the shadows of my doubts have filled my heart with lead."


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
These are the words of a song, which has haunted my mind only recently. They all begin this way, but this one, oddly has no more words. Will they listen when I sing it? Maybe it is never meant to be sung.

I have sent you this missive, knowing that if there are any gods in this land, that Your Excellency would have traffic with them. If anyone knows the way to return to Ispar, if a way does indeed exist, that Your Grace, in Your infinite wisdom, will know of it. I beseech of You, that if I can do no more here on Dereth, that You show me the way home. I had a life there once, and although I remember little of it, perhaps I might take


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
these random memories that I have, and assemble them together. Perhaps I might restore these memories into a life again, as motes of pyreel are forged into a mighty weapon.

I thank you for taking the time to read my plea, and I hope to receive word or sign that you have received it soon. In the meantime, I wait, hoping to gain sustenance from the Light that I know still glows within me.

- Yours always in Song and the Light,
  
                       The Bard, Aytalya


author_Name: Aytalya, Bard of Darktide
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After tapping off the sand she had sprinkled on the parchment to blot the wet ink, she carefully rolled the parchment into a scroll and tied it with a string. Now, to seek out the old mage Grimwell, who would see to it that her letter was placed into the hands of one of His Grace's emissaries. There was nothing more she could do but wait and pray to whatever gods still watched over this strange, dangerous, yet beautiful land.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
12th of Verdantine, Western banks of the Canfeld River

I am tired of my uncle.

I've not had time to write for the past few days. Since the 4th, we have been hard on the march through almost every type of terrain imaginable. I didn't think things could get much worse than being stuck onboard a half-leaking boat for days on end, almost every living hour spent hastening back and forth the boat, emptying rising water over the side with worn and cracked buckets. Then, on the


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
3rd of the month, we entered the marshes around the southern-curve of the river. The groans and complaints of my companions is the only sound that drowns out the incessant buzz of the flies and gnats that invade my privacy even as I write these words.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Since my father's disappearance, my uncle has grown less and less lucid as the days go past. Each time I visit him he tells me another superstitious tale of his younger days, and then sends me on another journey with little or no explanation, like this one. I am weary of his constant ramblings about 'rebirth', about my father, insisting that he is still alive but never telling me where. Sometimes he is so convincing that I believe him.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is getting late now, and I must finish my writing so as to help my companions setup some semblance of camp in this forsaken place. Time to wash the grime from my boots, and then to sleep. Tomorrow we begin our march anew.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
13th of Verdantine, Hunter's Thicket

Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. The tents Kilik and I had set up began sinking into the damp earth, and none of us were able to sleep for any decent length of time, as we were ever searching for sticks and stones that we might strengthen our camp with. Fortunately the insects did not give us as much bother as I had feared, thanks to those tightly woven nets which my mother had fashioned for us shortly before our last parting.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After only a few hours of traveling this morning, we reached the western edge of the marshes. Caerven had reckoned us to take at least another day ere we reached here, but it seems we have made good time. This morning, the sun finally broke from the prison-clouds that had held her for the past days, and she shone with a renewed valor upon the lush green fields that stretched out before us.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Kilik says that they are called the Plains of Elmwood, for in an earlier age the forest of Thrushhaven stretched out much further up to the river; and Aluvian folk dwelt there amongst houses in the trees. Yet as Viamont extended its influence outward, it descended upon the inhabitants of the woods, and they set torch to the trees and razed them to the ground; and that mark has stained the earth forever, for no flowers or trees will grow there again.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We are just one more day's march from the edges of the great forest now, and were it not for the fog we might be able to spy it upon the sloping hills in the distance. 

A few minutes ago, Caerven noticed a purple light away in the distance, and he left to investigate it further. He has made no sign of his safety, and I am beginning to fear for him. We saw similar lights in the marshes, but then attributed them to swamp-gas. Now I am not so sure.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Date unknown, Dereth

I do not know how to begin to explain what has happened. Were it not for this journal, I do not think I would have remembered the events leading up to my arrival here.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I am in the care of a lady named Adelia, who has kindly taken some time to try and explain what has happened. The lights we saw in the marshes, and the light that Caerven noticed unto which I followed were what she terms 'portals'; essentially, she says, they are paths that lead to this land I now find myself in. She then told me I needed rest, but I pleaded for a fuller explanation, as I knew sleep would be beyond my grasp until my curiosity was satisfied. Adelia told me only that there are many portals that have appeared on many lands like Ispar, and that they all lead to Dereth. 'Dereth is the sea into which all rivers eventually flow', she says.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
26th of Wintersebb, 11 P.Y, Holtburg

I awoke this morning feeling refreshed, Adelia says I slept for many hours. Yet although my weariness had left me, my curiosity had not, so I bid her farewell for the time being and wandered out into the streets of this town called Holtburg.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My first impressions were mixed. It is a very ordinary Aluvian village; the houses and shop-fronts are the same, the layout is familiar to me, the chatter of the gathered townsfolk is alive and the mood is light. It is built upon a hill, overlooking a river that I learned recently to be the River Prosper, with roads leading off east and west. There are always more gathered about the blacksmith's than the local inn, which is the first difference I noticed between Holtburg and my home town of Brayle, and not a difference to be taken lightly as I later discovered.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Perhaps the most apparent contrast between what I am used to and Holtburg is the way in which people are clothed. Back in my home land, near Celdon, the clothes that folk wore were, of course, plain and simple; a shirt or tunic and breeches, leather boots if one was a traveler (although of course dress differed in places such as the lands of Gharu'n, and in the distant Silveran). In Dereth I cannot even see the clothing of most people, for they are adorned from head to toe with armor, and always keep their weapons at their sides, close to where they can be reached swiftly.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In Ispar, one would wear armor only if he were going into battle, yet I see no sign of conflict here. Here I see gold plate, dull or gleaming, chain mail, Celdon armor like that which my father bore when he fought against the west. There are swords that seem to be writhing in flame, axes that glitter like the stars above me now. This does not bode well, and I fear that I am in a place far more dangerous than I have been for time beyond memory.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Fortunately I was able to forget my troubles, as I was invited for a meal in a tavern called the 'Helm and Shield' - yet another reminder amongst many of this seemingly hardy place - by a stout man named Gildin. He told me I looked like a 'newcomer', and said he would do his best to fatten me up! Between his remarks of how famished I looked, he told me many things of Dereth; of its lore and history, and of the portals and how I came to be here.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There were far too many words spoken for me to write everything in this journal, but on our parting Gildin gifted me with a tome in which he says is contained his knowledge and experience. I discovered later that it was just a copy of a history book and bestiary from the scribe's workshop! Still, I have kept it in my pack, as it may later prove useful.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I was also given a few hundred pyreals, the standard monetary unit in Dereth. I queried the barkeep, Wilomine, for some time regarding general prices of clothing and food, and of weapons and armor. I found, interestingly enough, that comparative to each other, weapons are much cheaper than in Ispar, and food is a little more expensive. It seems that the entire economy leans toward combat!


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
For the remainder of the day, I walked the town, and plagued its inhabitants with questions. Most were kind and informative, some were brusque and spoke almost in riddles. Every few minutes I noticed a myriad of new faces had arrived, and an equal number had vanished. I have concluded from this and other observations that towns serve less as homes and more as waypoints and centers of trade and supply. 


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I recall now that, every few weeks or so, a band of adventurers might appear in Brayle and sample our ale before continuing on their journeys. Crowds of excitable townsfolk would neglect their duties and flock to the taverns like children with hope of hearing a few tales of far-away things. Now I feel as though those things are no longer so distant.

Through all this new experience I am having, the new stars above remain as beautiful and constant as they ever were.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
27th of Wintersebb, 'Helm and Shield' Inn, Holtburg

I am writing now from the common room in the 'Helm and Shield', where my bed and refuge now reside. Adelia said that there would be others who would need hospitality, and that she had done all she could for me. I did not know how to thank her other than with words, though I have pledged my aid to her in return should she ever need it. She has given me sustenance and shelter and asked for nothing in return. Rarely save during the Winter Solstice has the same happened in Ispar.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Today I went a little further abroad. I met a party of three adventurers when I left the inn this morning, who were heading toward a portal that lay amongst the mire land just north of Holtburg. A man of my roughly build named Gaerwin led them. Gaerwin invited me to join the party, though he advised me to use what little money I had to trade with the blacksmith for a weapon. Although I had carried my sword when I entered the portal to Dereth, I could not find it amongst my equipment that Adelia had set aside.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I chose a long sword of similar design to the one that my father had trained me with and later given me when he said I was skilled enough to join the fight against Viamont. It is well-crafted, and the hilt is set with a white stone that reflects the light of the sun and shines with a white flame. With the remaining pyreals in my possession, I purchased a cuirass of studded and hardened leather, and a similar pair of leggings.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
One of the most curious things I read of in the book that Gildin gave me was the lifestones. History dictates that they first appeared just after the great heroes Elysa Strathelar and Thorsten Cragstone ended the life and reign of the Olthoi and their queen. They are described as being 'blue crystals, about two to three feet in height, suspended by magical means amidst a frame of three-pronged stone'. I had decided, after reading of how the first crystals animated the dead instead of keeping the user alive, that I would not use one. I have been taught to accept the mortality of man as fate. yet I have begun


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
to think that it is fate that brought me here, and taught me of how, in Dereth, death has not the grip I had learned.

It is hard to find a comparison to what I felt when I placed both hands upon the crystal. I think the best example is the feeling one gets when he has drunk more ale than he can hold!


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This time, I remember the portal journey, unlike when I first traveled to Dereth. It feels as though you are moving at a great speed, through a twisting tunnel. I could just make out its walls, which were a dark blue color, but did not seem solid, and seemed to mold around my shape. As quickly as it had begun after I stepped into the swirling magic, it had stopped.

The dungeon itself was a cold, humid place. The air was stuffy, and in some areas there was little light. The first non-human creature I encountered in Dereth was the drudge. A drudge is humanoid in shape, but


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
smaller and thinner than a grown man, with eyes like large black marbles, and short horns atop their heads. There are several different hues of skin color, but all remind me of putrid, rotting flesh. They have some form of low intelligence, and will defend themselves if they feel threatened.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The only form of communication I have witnessed was a weak gurgling sound, and the piercing shriek they let out when in combat. Although I wished only to watch and learn at first, I was forced to draw my sword when we were ambushed by several drudges on the way back to a portal that would lead us back out. Under the tutelage of my father, I had become quite a swordsman, and I slew two of the creatures.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I had thought that when Gaerwin said we would be going hunting, he meant we would be doing so for subsistence. Then I realized how vile a drudge would taste, if they followed the fashion of their appearance, and wandered why we were really here. Gaerwin says now we are hunting merely to improve our skills, so that we may better fight against evils that threaten our very existence. When I inquired more of these, he was silent.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
On Ispar, we hunted only for meat and to protect our families and cities. We would train under the wise eye of a master, be guided by his strong arm, or practice dueling amongst one another. Is it right for one to slay another creature so that he may become more skilled at slaying? I posed the question to Gaerwin. In reply he said, "If any of us could truly comprehend the evil we are facing, the answer would be 'yes.'"


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
30th of Wintersebb, Eastham

I have been traveling with Gaerwin for days now, and we have got to know each other well.

He has told me much of current events. Spires of darkness have burrowed out of the ground near many towns, and terrifying creatures seemingly wrought of pure shadow inspire fear in lone travelers. One of these Spires is in the town I am currently staying in, and the reason I have come here. I can see it even now, from outside a small windmill near the eastern beech where I am sitting.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have encountered many creatures since my last entry into this journey. As we traveled down the banks of the River Prosper from Holtburg, heading for the old town of Cragstone, we were chased by a pack of shreth. These creatures are frighteningly fast, and they bare teeth inches long. Ondorias, one of our companions, suffered wounds in his left shoulder when one of the beasts decided it was hungry. Although I was able to clean the wound and bandage it to prevent infection, he was unable to fight for the rest of the journey.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Overland travel is far, far more dangerous than on Ispar, and this explained some of the observations I made in Holtburg. Even traveling by road, all but the fastest can not hope to escape being attacked by a pack of drudges, or ambushed by stealthy blood shreth. The only option then is to turn and fight, and so I have now killed many creatures here. Some of them carry pyreals, perhaps looted from a passerby who has not been so fortunate as we have, and in turn we release them of this burden.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As we have come further and further south, I am somewhat surprised to have seen the slanted facial features that I recognize as Sho, and even the dark-skinned Gharu'ndim, heading northward toward the Aluvian towns. Although I have read that all these folk have appeared in Dereth, I did not realize the three intermingled such as I have witnessed them doing. I imagined things to be more like on Ispar, keeping themselves to themselves, that sort of thing. Gaerwin says that desperate times call for desperate measures, and 'to survive on Dereth, he who once saw a danger in his neighbor must now invite that same person into his house'. It seems that the three


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
races, Aluvian, Sho, and Gharu'ndim, have been united against a common enemy: shadow.

I must pack my things now, as we are soon to set out toward the crater over which the spire of Eastham floats. We passed near it during our run here, and the sounds emanating from it filled me with dread.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
3rd of Morningthaw, Arwic

Although there are yet no cities in Dereth, if there is one town that serves such a likeness it is Arwic.

With the loot I have picked up along my way, I bought a map in Eastham, so that I could see the full scale of this island. Although it is in no way as large as Ispar, the distances between towns are still sizeable. As far as my map reading skills can tell, there are two main landmasses that are connected at north and south points by land bridges, and separated elsewhere by the Inner Sea.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The western section is known as the Direlands, and I have heard much from snippets of conversation in taverns of the danger of this place. The eastern mass is where I am now, and it is called Osteth.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Gharu'ndim are in the west by the Inner Sea, and have settled, naturally, in the A'mun desert. The Sho towns are in the southeast. I have always been intrigued by the Sho culture, but have never had the chance to visit one of their towns, for on Ispar their lands were distant. I hope that soon I will be able to travel that far south. In the north and south are vast stretches of tall mountains. I was just able to see their edges when I was in Holtburg, and the sight fondly reminded me of the Luparvium Mountains back home. I could just make them out from Brayle, too.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Gaerwin wanted to travel here, Arwic, as he has heard rumor that there is a statue of an ancient demon that he calls 'Bael'Zharon' hidden up north in the mountains of the Lost Wish Range. He must be near there now I believe, for although he took with him Ondorias and Cleavak, I have remained here to take in the social atmosphere.

I am staying in one of the packed rooms of the 'Twin Auroch Tavern'. There were Aurochs in the lands of Ispar as well, and as the name might suggest there are the heads of two of these beasts set above the bar.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Out in the Town Square, there must be almost a hundred! Most are trading weaponry or armor with one another, some are negotiating price for portal passage to specific areas of Dereth. I remember in Brayle when, every seven days, the trade carts would arrive from Celdon, and would bring the resources such as good stone and wines that we lacked. In exchange for our supply of freshwater fish, many bargains were had, and the people were merry. No one traded weapons then. Occasionally I hear the cry of 'Thief!', and a figure darts through the crowd, but most of the time the good will of the folk here keeps any mischief from going on. Perhaps that is why


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
no one sees the need for a Town Guard.

I overheard a conversation in the bar a few hours ago, between several Aluvians. They were arguing about the mage Asheron. One was saying that he detested the Empyrean for taking him from his home, while some of the others argued that he had set the truly adventurous of Isparians free in this world.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Until now I have not really thought about it. I had always considered Asheron a man ill-fated, yet just. Yes, it is by his fault that we are here, and that many were forced to suffer under the Olthoi. If he had not opened the portals, the Empyrean would still have been here, instead of us, and so Dereth would not have gone undefended.

Perhaps it is fate at work again.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
6th of Solclaim, Fort Tethana

I thought I knew fear, or had experienced fear before. I was wrong. 

In the months that have passed, the shadows have attacked. I have seen them, and they were true fear. They are holes where good cannot exist, gaps in the world. I wish I could go back now, but I cannot.


author_Name: Aragorn of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The portals from Ispar to Dereth allowed only war and warriors through, and left all my land's peace behind, leaving none for Dereth. I have decided to bury this manuscript, in hope that even if we do not survive, it shall.

These are my last words.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Blasted critters," I commented as we ran past yet another pack of scrawny Drudges. "You'd think that even with the tiny little brains they've got in those pointy heads of theirs they'd know better than to chase anything that moves.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Aye," agreed my current traveling companion, Hakin Slash, straining to keep up with me as we made our way across the Aluvian countryside. Nonetheless, I found myself having to stop frequently to allow him to catch up. I could associate with him in that case, as often on the few times I traveled with others I found myself the unwitting recipient of quickness and sprint enchantments in order to be able to keep up with the others. Being a warrior by trade, I knew only the most basic of these enchantments, and had little choice but to wait for Hakin as he often lagged behind.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Although he had thus far only been in Dereth a short time, I could see that he had progressed well in that span and would someday surpass my skills in many areas. Nonetheless, at this point he was still quite inexperienced, and more than once I had been called to assist him in recovering lost gear from among a pack of Banderlings or Shreth. In many ways, Hakin was much like I was when I first found myself in this land.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Suddenly, a clumsily thrusted spear somewhere in my general vicinity brought me back to my senses, and on the horizon I could see the all-too-familiar Empyrean ruins upon which the city of Arwic was built. Not bothering to give a second thought to the Drudge from which the spear thrust came, I continued toward the nearby lifestone, with Hakin shortly behind, having paused to knock some sense into the Drudge with his Olthoi sword. After attuning to the stone, we sat down to rest from the journey and to discuss the situation at hand.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Are you sure about this?" asked Hakin as we jumped up onto the roof of the small hut that stood at the lifestone, as the Drudge Skulkers below ran mindlessly at the walls in a futile effort to get at us. "You will have a hard time convincing anyone of the truth of this theory of yours."


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I am well aware of that," I responded. "They look as Isparian as you and me. Yet they act nothing like any others I've encountered. Even the Gharu'ndim, whose customs are still odd to me despite the much time I've spent in Qalaba'r, don't act in the manner," I continued, quickly glancing around to make absolutely sure that my ruler Fudj-al-Hashish was not around to hear my comment.

"As far as we know, those called to this land thus far have only been those of the Aluvian, Sho and Gharu'ndim lands, but is it possible that..."


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I know it's possible," I interrupted. "Before I entered the portal to this land, I had witnessed much of the barbarism of the Viamonters firsthand, and such traits as their love of bloodshed, pillage and plunder do seem indicative of possible Viamonter orgin. Nonetheless, their names and language conform to no Isparian culture that I know of. And what little I know of the Souia-Vey and Silverans tends to eliminate those possibilities. I doubt that even Asheron would have the patience to tolerate the presence of the Souia-vey in  Dereth. Their tempers would make even the Tumeroks look friendly in comparison."


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Yes, but if they are truly not Isparian, then how would they end up in Dereth?" Hakin asked. "And how is it that they appear as we do?"

"That, I know not," I replied. "But I do have my theories."


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It was at this point that I was startled by the clank of a shouken bouncing off my armor. As mindless and feeble as these Drudges were, at least they were determined. Having regained my stamina from the lifestone, I stood up and got down off the roof, with Hakin following close behind. Normally, a visit to Arwic for me only lasted long enough to sell stuff and hop the nearest portal to somewhere else, but this time, I would have to tarry in Arwic for a time, although I dreaded the prospect of this visit. I know not for how long one can keep their sanity within the town of Arwic, and I do not particularly care to find out.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
                                * * *

As we walked through the ruined columns that marked the sides of the path that lead into the city, we could tell that Arwic was in typical form. From all directions we could hear the sounds of traders calling their wares loudly, people seeking portals to one place or another, and even a couple of the followers of the Hopeslayer casting life-draining spells at each other from opposite sides of a wall. As much contempt as I hold for those who slay their fellow man for sport, I couldn't help but laugh.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My attention was quickly redirected as I saw before me a man, even less experienced than Hakin Slash, yet wearing an expensive-looking set of Amuli armor. As soon as he saw that he had my attention, he spoke: "Can u open a portal to Teth?"

I knew to expect this, but most people at least had the common sense to see that my heavy suit of Scale and platemail armor was not the kind of thing typically worn by aspiring planar mages. I fought back the urge to point a sword at his face and make some comment to the effect of "Do I LOOK like a mage to you?" and assessed him.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Not only was he less experienced than Hakin, but he had a name which would not bear repeating in polite company. Fortunately, before I could answer, some beleagured archmage began to utter the words "Roiga Thiloi," which just about anywhere would quickly attract a crowd, but especially so in Arwic. Finally, after several attempts, a white portal appeared, and several people entered. Perhaps the portal would provide at least a few moments of peace and quiet so we could find a place from which to watch the scene below.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After a brief search, we headed for the balcony of the tavern and sat down. I removed from my pack the book which I had used for my notes thus far. No sooner had we settled down when the familiar purple swirls that signaled an impending portal storm appeared. Somehow, I wasn't surprised.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As we observed from our perch, it didn't take long to spot what we were looking for. In the town square, there were to be found several so-called "Mules", named after a rather unpleasant beast of burden found within the Roulean lands. Generally, these Mules acted as servants to the warriors and mages of the land. Although some had gained a degree of renown in the trades of cooking, fletching and alchemy, most were simple traders and bearers of their master's wares. I had a couple of these servants myself, who made their permanent home in the Library of Cragstone. I found that as a rule, these servants reflect the personalities of their masters quite well. So I found little


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
surprise that those who serve masters who lack the basic principles of decency and integrity tend to be the ones who get marked as thieves, often by their victims.

There were several of them calling their wares, and offering trades that anyone who had been in the land for any decent amount of time would realize to be totally unrealistic. Yet, they sought not only to steal from those who didn't know any better, but also from those who had little in the first place. When I was younger, I too had fallen for the schemes of these treacherous individuals, but now knew better.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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I began to note my observations in my book, in which my previous notes were kept. For a brief moment, I was lost in thought as I scribbled hastily, oblivious to the ever-increasing purple swirls. So it was at least somewhat unexpected when I found myself thrust into a portal to the outskirts of town. As I landed somewhere on the outskirts of town, I fought back a wave of nausea. Many individuals will speak of portal travel as being a necessary evil in the land, and few could say that they enjoy the experience. In the many months I have spent in Dereth, I have only recently begun to get used to the seemingly uncontrolled twists and turns of travel by portal.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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As I picked myself off the ground, I noticed that the book in which my notes had been recorded didn't quite make it... yet. So it was almost instinctive to dodge out of the way, as the book was flung out of portal space at a considerable rate of speed, narrowly missing me and landing with a rather loud thud upon the ground. I waited a minute to ensure none of my other possessions had shaken loose within the portal, picked up the book and checked it for damage, and began heading back toward Arwic.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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I arrived back at the tavern just in time to see Hakin surrounded by several unsavory looking individuals. Almost instinctively, I drew a sword and charged toward the balcony. As I caught their attention, Hakin saw a break and took off running back toward the lifestone. One of the individuals shouted in Hakin's direction, "D00d, 3y3 g0t d4 Ph@t l3w+ c0m3 b@ck!!!111" but Hakin paid him no heed. Fortunately, I could see that none of these people followed Bael'Zharon, and proceeded to follow Hakin, this time with phrases such as, "j00 r 4 l@m@h v3x0rg!!!111" and, "j00 sux0r!" being shouted in my direction.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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As I followed the path toward the lifestone, I caught a glimpse of the young Gharu'ndim I encountered earlier, missing his Amuli coat. Off in the distance, I could hear him shout, "Anyone got a portal to teth I lost a corpse..," and did not pay heed to the rest. I had seen enough of Arwic for quite a while at this point, and was glad to be clear of the disgrace to the Aluvian lands of Dereth.

I stopped to catch my breath at the lifestone, and Hakin, seeing that it was just me, emerged from the hut where he had made his hiding place. Before I could ask what had happened, he began to speak.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"After that, I'm inclined to believe your theory," Hakin said. "I don't know where they come from, but they sure as heck aren't Isparians."

"That's what I've been speculating all along," I replied. "Now do you mind explaining what happened?"

"All three of them... I forget their names..," Hakin continued, stammering due to what as far as I can tell was Adrenaline rush, "They speak in some weird language..."


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"Yes, yes, go on."

"They asked if I needed a patron, as far as I can tell. They spoke of something that sounded almost like 'fat loot' or something to that effect. They seem to speak in numbers and symbols as well as letters, and whatever they speak sounds a lot like our own native tongue, only really messed up." Although Hakin was a traveling companion of mine, I had never sought his fealty, nor do I intend to. After seeing the mess that accompanied the breakup of my former guild, I choose not to involve myself in guild politics.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"Yes, I've noticed. Some seem to have learned at least to speak in standard Isparian dialects, but still manage to butcher the language badly. I've dubbed their language "d00dspeak," based on what seems to be the most common word in their vocabulary.  Their manners and ways seem to confound even the translators of Cragstone, Zaikhal and Hebian-To."

"So what do you intend to do next?"


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
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"As far as I know, there is only one person in this land who I can think of that might believe me. It will be a perilous journey, too perilous for you, I'm afraid. Take the time to practice your skills, I will return in a few days. If you need any assistance, my servants in Cragstone shall be more than happy to help."

"Be careful, you know how dangerous the journey can be."


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"I am well aware.  Take care and be well," I replied, and with a bow, I set off upon my journey to seek the one person who I might be able to obtain more info from.

                                  * * *

Again, I found myself running across the countryside, beset by Drudges. However, here the terrain was far more bleak, and the Drudges here anything but the feeble weaklings of Osteth. Also in the area here were far more dangerous creatures, particularly the reanimated skeletons of fallen Empyreans and the Diamond Golems, incredibly beautiful but at the


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
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same time incredibly dangerous.  Nonetheless, it was with caution and experience that I walked these lands, and before I knew it, I could see my destination, the Gharu'ndim outpost of Ayan Baqur.

As I entered the outpost, I healed my wounds from the journey, and settled down in the Tavern to rest from the journey. It was here that I found the individual whom I sought, the notorious Ulgrim the Unpleasant. I invited him to my table, and ordered several mugs of Ispar Stout. I don't care for the swill myself, but the rumors I've heard indicate that for a few mugs, Ulgrim will talk for hours.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
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"So," Ulgrim began the conversation, "How's that Gromnatross up in Stonehold been?"

"Uh, fine," I lied, attempting to steer the conversation. "I have come to you to seek your knowledge on certain individuals I have observed."

"Be careful of the one in the Amuli, he's really an Olthoi in disguise!" We both laughed at this, but I somehow doubt that he knew of the irony of that comment.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
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"Perhaps you know of some of these who I talk about. They speak a strange language, tend toward the killing of others and thievery, seek the fealty of others in ways unbecoming any civilized ruler, and generally don't act anything like any Isparians I know of."

"Ah yes," Ulgrim replied, already beginning to slur his words, undoubtedly due to his consumption of Ispar Stout.  "You speak of d00dz, right?"

"Yes," I replied.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
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"Well, The one thing I know is that Asheron didn't bring them here, at least not intentionally. They come from a strange land. I think it's called Ay'arcee or something weird like that." Ulgrin continued, pausing for another swig of Ispar Stout. "There they speak their strange language, trade stuff called "WaReZ" or something weird like that, and generally act uncivilized."

"That would certainly explain their behavior," I added.


author_Name: Vexorg of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"Yes, and they ride Ash Gromnies, and have wild parties where they tip cows, and they all drink Turpeth and eat Hawthorn, then they shoot fire out of their mouths, and they..."

Before Ulgrim could complete his sentence, he fell to the floor with a clattering sound of several unfinished mugs of Stout falling around him. "Out like a candle," I concluded after a quick glance. "He'll get over it soon enough." With that comment, I concluded my notes with this latest info, knowing full well that it was only of spurious validity, but at this point, it was as good as anything else I had.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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I remember it as yesterday. From the perfect black of the night sky, to the sandy wind that buried grit in my eyes and teeth. And on the path, bathed in the flickering torchlight of the then-new town of Samsur, strode the venerable figure of Wari al-Sha'im.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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He walked with a measured, confident stride, each impact of heavy boot resounding in the night. The blackened scale mail armor he wore clinked softly, and his great, tattered green cloak- a remnant of old Ispar- snapped fitfully in the wind. He held his silver-crested head erect, ignoring the stinging sand and the townspeople gathering in awe on the sides of his path. He strode to the East. Away from the town. 


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
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Why would he go? I heard murmered along with What can we do?  Al-Sha'im's aging but alert frame did not slow at the townspeoples' protests, though I am certain I saw- for one brief instant- a look of reluctance and perhaps sorrow in his creased face.  But it did not last.  His eyes flashed with determination, and his jaw clenched. Still he strode towards the wilderness.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"Al-Sha'im!" a great shout came from behind, startling the spectators. The old warrior simply halted with no show of alarm or surprise. His head inclined for a long moment to the skies as the he pondered the strange stars above him. But only for a moment. He turned curtly around to face his lord, Musansayn.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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The crowd murmered reverently. Musansayn! Great leader of all the desert-dwellers in the new world! The nobleman stood on the same path as al-Sha'im, but in the center of town, rather than on the edge. A tense silence hung for a moment, and the gathered people retreated to flank their lord. When the last merchant had shuffled nervously to a halt, the Desert Lord continued.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
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"Where are you going, my old friend?" said Musansayn, cordially. The hair of Musansayn had also faded silver with age. I had heard it said the two great men had worked and fought together far longer than they had resided in the new land. By their resemblance, I could easily imagine the two great legends' histories stretching intertwined together into the distant, invisible past of Ispar.

"Away," said Wari al-Sha'im simply, the wind howling over his voice. "There is no further need for me here."


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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The crowd's murmuring returned with increased volume. Was this not the heroic warrior who had driven the desert beasts from these lands? Had his great axe strokes not cleft the bodies of countless would-be raiding creatures on this very street? Had he not been the great defender of his people since the Early Years? Had he not-

"Wari," said Musansayn, carefully, "surely you know this is not true. Our work has only just begun." The people behind him murmured assent. Had not this town only just been taken from the wild desert two seasons ago?


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"No," said Wari bluntly. Musansayn's piercing gaze looked sharply questioning, even in the dim light of the torches. "My lord," the old warrior added softly.

Musansayn sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping for a bare instant. With eyes still intense and powerful voice, he spoke.  "When we first arrived in this world, you and I, we had nothing. Certainly old Ispar disappeared forever. We hadn't a people to belong to, peace with our neighbors, a simple town in which to live-" he gestured vaguely to the dark town around him, "- but then! We began our great work. Every


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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desert man in the new land was searched out, every adventurer recruited. Together beneath my standard we have subjugated this new desert." At this he paused to glance grandly about. "We have constructed new cities and roads, new shops and outposts. The Gharu'ndim-" he said, his head tilting up towards the invisible, distal horizon, and his eyes focusing on some aspect of his imagination- "due solely to our effort have claimed a foothold on this new world."


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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Musansayn stood, lost in his reverie for a few long moments. The crowd had fallen utterly silent. Only the howl of the wind and sharp snapping of the old warrior's cloak broke the chill quiet.

Al-Sha'im spoke next.  "Yes, my lord.  That is why I must go."


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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Musansayn returned instantly back to the present. "But al-Sha'im, surely you see there is still work to be done? Surely you see the people here and in our other cities- Yaraq, Al-Jalima, Uziz- surely you see these people still need your help and protection?" Musansayn's expression had shifted and now meant to placate the old warrior. The crowd once again rumbled assent with their lord. A gust of sandy wind prompted many to bury their faces in their sleeves. Al-Sha'im and Musansayn seemed not to notice.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"No, my lord," replied al-Sha'im, sadly. "My place is elsewhere."

Musansayn sighed, deeper this time. "Then tell me," he began, with little energy in his voice, "the reason you must leave."


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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All faces, mine included, turned expectantly to the aging warrior standing alone on the cobbled road on the edge of Samsur. He ran one strong hand over his silver mane before he began his reply. "My lord, my people," he began, determination filling his voice, "do not assume I go to escape my duty. I have always and will always battle for the will of my lord. I fought with vigor and honor to establish Samsur and other cities in this new world, and I drove the beasts from these and other hills to keep the new home of Gharu'n safe. But of late, I have given thought to my service, and decided it is needed elsewhere.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
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"Many have declared us to be at peace. We certainly have no war with our honorable neighbors to the east, and no threat is to be perceived standing in the marketplaces of our newly constructed cities. But I ask you, how far from the marketplace does that peace extend? Will not an ignorant person be waylaid, perhaps killed, by the savage beasts of the land only a minute's walk from this very street?


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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"For these reasons, I can no longer allow myself to enjoy this false peace. Surely there are others like me. Ones who grasp the danger that exists just outside the limits of our patrols. For me and for them, there can be only one course of action: we must leave. To explore, to combat our enemies in their own lair, to seek ancient secrets and artifacts, and, yes, to adventure - that is our calling.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
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"I do not know whether this grand adventure will last for months, for years, or for decades. I do not know where it will take me, who I shall meet in my travels, or what my ultimate goal is. What I do know is that I hear the calling, and I will respond."


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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For several minutes there was only silence. Wari al-Sha'im stood, stoic and grim, on the edge of Samsur, with sheer black night behind him. Musansayn stood well within the town's halo of torchlight, with the silent populace behind him. The wind howled angrily. The Desert Lord groped for words for a very long time before he finally acted. Taking a step forward, Musansayn motioned al-Sha'im to approach.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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The old warrior strode forward, his boots' impacts resonating through the night. He knelt before his lord and bowed his grey head. Musansayn, his face a mask of profound sorrow, placed his right hand upon his subject's neck and quietly gave the benediction of release. When he had finished the ancient verse, he said, softly, "Go, old friend." Then, with no more words spoken, the Desert Lord disappeared into the shocked crowd and retreated into the night.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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Wari al-Sha'im stood. He stared after his old lord, a single tear - betrayed by the flickering torch light - refusing to fall from the corner of his eye. He reached into his great cloak and unlimbered his axe. Raising the magnificent Silifi of Crimson Stars into the night air, he stood in salute to his retreating lord for one moment. Then, with no flourish I could detect, he replaced his weapon, turned, and strode into the darkness. Then he was gone.


author_Name: Ashgad of Thistledown
author_Account: prewritten
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Years passed before I saw again the weapon of Wari al-Sha'im. The great warrior I remember met his end before his grand adventure was complete. Today I carry the artifact with me. It reminds me, with every stroke it cuts, of the man who wielded it last. It is not only a relic of Ispar, but a reminder of the purpose instilled in me by the old desert warrior.

And, sometimes, I gaze up on a starry night and ponder the strange, beautiful skies above me. I study them, much as Wari al-Sha'im did that night in Samsur. Years ago.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Be careful," I muttered as I lifted my shield to bear the brunt of my attacker's blow.

"I'm okay," said my partner. He sidestepped the banderling's swipe and leaned his spear into its side.  It toppled to the ground without so much as a squawk.

I looked over at him proudly, a promising young warrior so intent on learning this brutal art of war. But we weren't done yet.  A rustle of grass announced more company. "Shadow," he said.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I was already tracking its sound over the hill. Quickly, I switched from my staff to a katar, which ignited in the open air with a magical blaze. The shadow people were not fond of fire, as we had learned during the invasions several months before.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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The shadow, an adult it seemed, raced at us down the slope. It lunged at my companion, landing a blow to the poor lad's shoulder. I swung fiercely and the shadow man cried out as I seared its back with my fire. Still it remained focused on the youth who battled beside me. The spear's enchantments, I thought, might not be enough for this elusive shadow. "I can't hit it," he said in confirmation of my thoughts.  "Hel..."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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My companion's words were cut short as the shadow drove its sword deep into him. I muttered an oath under my breath and with a final savage blow, brought the shadow-man down over the body of my fallen comrade.

For a moment, only the wind was present. He was so young still...

'I couldn't hit it,' echoed the ghostly voice of my companion within my head. This was something I would never get used to.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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'I saw,' I effortlessly replied with a thought.

'I think I know the way back.'

'Just a moment longer and I had him,' I told him, pulling a kit of healing supplies from my pack. 'Sorry Kell.'

'It's okay. Just keep the area clear.'


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I looked at the dead body of my fallen companion. It was already dissolving slowly. Death was an unusual thing here. It existed but it did not. I myself had perished hundreds of times. Who would have thought that death could ever be such a casual occurrence, like washing your laundry? Though, perhaps laundry does not leave one feeling so drained.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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Kell came trotting up the hill, not showing the slightest bit of wear from his reformation at the monolith a few kilometers away. It was a draining experience and although not painful, it could leave one weakened for quite some time.   Kell's stiffness became apparent as he stooped to lift a few items that the 'lifestone' had not reformed with him. I often wondered if the seemingly ancient stones were wearing out, or perhaps their builders could not make them perfectly.  Nevertheless, every time one of us died, they failed to recreate our possessions and ourselves wholly.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Let's get out of here. There are more shadows nearby."

Kell nodded and followed me down a steep slope into the river that supplied much of Northern Osteth with its rich greenery and fauna. We backtracked to the lifestone, sky blue and spinning slowly in its claw-like frame. "Let me rest," I said.  "Shadows always leave me drained. If you want to limber up those muscles, I saw some monougae and shreth down the river."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Sounds good."

"I'll start a fire. Be careful. Don't come back here the easy way," I said with a smirk.

"The easy way?"

"Just don't die," I said.

Weary and hungry, Kell and I decided not to venture back out that night.  The dark, transparent shadow people had ambushed me before.  Kell would only be a liability to the both of us if that were to happen again.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Tell me, Anjwar," he said, leaning against a still-warm rock beneath our blanket of stars, "What do you remember of Ispar?"

My face donned a smirk at the question. I had not talked of Ispar in some time. "I imagine your memories are clearer than mine," I said.

"You have been here a long time."

"Yep." I loaded some more kindling onto the fire and sat back against the lifestone. The low thrum against my back was soothing.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"What did you leave behind? Do you miss it?"

"It's like another life now, not my own but a stranger's." I poked at the fire absently with a dead branch, watching the fire eat away at the bark. "A Gharu'ndim I once met in Qalaba'r professed his belief that this was the afterlife. We had died, he said, and this is where we had been brought. I questioned him further but he could not tell me if we had been brought to Heaven or Hell."

Kell laughed. "Limbo, I imagine."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I furrowed my brow at the word. Almost everyone spoke the Roulean tongue here on Dereth but even after all this time, there were words with which I was not familiar.

"Ah," I said recognizing the concept he was getting at. "It is called Jaed'nril in my native tongue."

"Jaed'nril," Kell repeated softly. "I wish I spoke Gharu'ndim."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I smiled at his naivete. "There is not just one form of Gharu'ndim but many. Other dialects pronounce it differently like Haed'nrel and Jadenril. Mine happens to be a dialect not widely used anymore. Once, it is said, my brethren ruled the Gharu'ndim lands for centuries. Sadly, when I left, our language was all that my townsfolk had in common."

"Tell me about it."

I could not tell if he was being facetious or not so with a grin, I obliged. "Very well, I'll tell you what I remember of our great Ispar."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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                                 * * *

I was almost old enough to marry. In fact, it was expected of me at the age of only seventeen to wed the sickly young daughter of my father's lifelong friend. The man wished to strengthen the bonds of our two families and simultaneously award himself with a greater power in the political arena. My bride to be was daughter to an influential man. I liked the girl, despite her ailments. 


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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"Anjie, what is the purpose of our people?" she would say as our fathers' voices echoed from the adjacent room, like a pair of lufaq fighting for control of their pride on the desert tundra.

"Our people? I didn't realize you and I were such great rulers," I would reply.

She would toss a pillow at me and be seized by a fit of coughing from the action.

"More than our purpose," I began, once she had settled down again, "What is our fate?"


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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Though Satresha never liked the idea of fate, I was fascinated with it. That is not what I meant this time. "That is a doubly sharpened simi, Anjwar," she would say, averting her gaze. "We cannot control our fate."

'But we can accept it,' I wanted to say. I could see it in her eyes. She did not wish to marry me. I could not fathom the reasons but her withdrawal from the subject of our marriage at every mention ate away at my resolve. We were growing apart and still had five months until the wedding.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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One by one my older friends married their own betrothed, happily starting their lives in a manner that I would most likely never see. I would become like my father, I presumed, steadfastly driven to whatever goal fell into my sights.

And there lay another problem for me. I had no goals.  

"Is that all you are good for?" my father would ask, "Wearing out the seat of your pants?"

"What do you wish me to do, father?"


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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"Have you finished your chores?"

"Yes."

"Then go outside and play like the other children do."

"With who? All the others are doing their chores."

Then he would walk away without another word, a final statement of my uselessness to him. After each reminder of my lack of ambition, I only became less ambitious. I was waiting for something to happen.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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But something was already happening. Civil war. How could I choose sides? My family or my own beliefs? So, I did nothing; perhaps the most civil thing that can be done during such a war.

One day my brother came to me and asked, "Will you help me train?"

"For what?"

"The war, of course."

"Who is to say there will be fighting, Aswaan? Only the politicians are on the battlefront these days."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"There will be fighting."

He said this as if he would make sure of it. Even then I knew for which side he would fight and still I agreed. My father only encouraged us, as it kept us away from his political dealings and allowed him the illusion of a happy home.

"I will beat you today brother," he said every morning after our chores.

"So said you yesterday." I would waggle my staff around confidently, certain I could once again overpower him.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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But one day he defeated me.  And after that, I won less and less. Aswaan had grown strong and skilled. All the while I thought I could crush his spirit, make him understand that war was not for him. Yet he only grew stronger. Finally, he bested me for the last time and ran away to find his own battlefront of our quiet little war.

                                 * * *


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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Kell was listening intently under the guise of his usual attentive care to his battle gear. With a tiny whetstone, he tended to his bloodied spear. I leaned back myself, grinning at my companion. The pause grabbed Kell's attention more and he stopped his nightly routine for a moment. "What?"

"You'll dull your blade if you keep doing that, young Kell," I said, pointing to the place he had been favoring for too long.

He blushed lightly and pulled out an oily rag to clean a different part of the blade.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I turned my attention skyward, past the lazy clouds overhead to the star-studded night sky. "I wonder if we can see Ispar's sun from here," I said. It was a thought I'd had many times but only now felt compelled to express.

Kell continued his cleaning, accepting the topic change in stride. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Those stars we see. They each bless a world with light and heat. Each is a sun like what shines upon this world and what shone upon Ispar."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"You talk about Ispar as if it were gone."

I smiled at his observation. He had caught me in a slip of the tongue. "It is gone," I professed. "Ispar doesn't really exist for me any more."

"Yet those millions of stars each brighten a world," he said with a scoff in his voice.

I pondered his point. I was not one to argue for the sake of being wrong. "Very well. Look at it this way: Ispar is a place that is no more than a distant world to me. I can't call it home any more. It is a foreign place now as if one from a storybook."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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"You are confusing me Anjwar."

"Let me try to clarify things a little more."

                                 * * *

My philosophies since arriving here on Dereth may owe some contributions to my childhood. If so, it is perhaps the only thing I have left of me from Ispar. My brothers were becoming warriors, my father a politician; my future bride was nothing more than a friend. I wanted a purpose in life, like everyone else seemed to have but I wanted it handed to me. The day finally came when I thought it had been.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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From what I have heard, mine was no novel experience. When the Gate appeared, I was doing nothing in particular. Perhaps I had just finished my daily chores or I was restringing my homemade bow. The air crackled a little and took on an acrid taste and smell. I thought for a moment I was becoming ill but then the Gate sprung open. It may be that leaving Ispar is my most vivid memory of that time.  Who could forget the stunning appearance of a purple swirling vortex? I didn't know how it worked exactly but I knew why it was there. I was needed. My time had finally come.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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And while I felt this urge, this wanting for my help, I also understood what it meant. I could not say goodbye to my father or my brothers Aswaan and Adamar or Satresha. I could never come back. I was going to be in a strange place fraught with danger and the choice I was given would only last this one moment. It seemed an easy choice: stay on Ispar or touch the gate and change my life forever.

Never do I regret the decision I made nor will I ever forget it. I so desperately wished to escape from there and even knowing I had a choice, I only wished to leave everything behind me and never look back.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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                                  * * *

Morning came early for us. Just before dawn, as the sun grew large on the horizon and Alb'arel began its descent from high in the sky, we arose to continue our journey. Kell was eager to get back to his training, as I still considered him to be training, and I was restless to move out of shadow territory.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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We decided to try our luck along the river, heading downstream and westward towards the sea. The going was a little easier, though we crossed paths with a shadow adult and child at one point. Even then, the adult attacked us viciously so that the child quickly followed suit. I kept the larger one entangled with my flaming weapon while Kell dispatched the child. It gave a sickening cry as it fell and even having heard it a hundred times before, my heart cried out with that child. The adult turned to take revenge on Kell, who was far too weakened to handle an angered shadow. I took the advantage and seared a hole through its back.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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Carefully dousing my weapon with a water-filled sheath, I bent over to examine the shadow. "Why do you hate us so?" I mumbled to the dead body. "You and your kind... I just don't understand."

Neither the shadow nor the child had anything useful to our travels so we continued onward. I had been soured by the experience and kept my mouth tightly shut. Kell, on the hand, was excited about his first shadow kill.

"Have you ever seen a baby shadow?" he asked, hopping carelessly over a giant rock in the water.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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I splashed my staff across the gentle stream at a passing fish. "Shadows do not have children. They are children who became shadows."

Kell pondered the point for a minute or more. "But many of the creatures we battle here do have children. The reedsharks have pups, the shreth, banderlings, and of course Isparians."

"Yes. Many creatures feel the need to propagate," I said. "They must survive."

"Oh, as a species," conluded Kell. "I guess that naturally includes us."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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I nodded. "Isparians must survive as well."

"But why? The lifestones ensure our survival."

I pondered the idea for a moment. It wasn't one I had thought about before. "Maybe it is so we can establish Dereth as our home. We cannot always be just soldiers defending the wilds of this world."

"It just doesn't seem fair, consciously bringing a child into a world as dangerous as this."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Fairness comes from what you make of things. We were brought here to defend this world, Kell, yet it does nothing to defend us.  It is only fair if you even the odds yourself."

                                 * * *

I was working towards my fifth full day on this world when I started to get some clue about the situation I was in. The Gate that appeared before me that day was not one of my salvation, it was calling for my help. I knew the consequences of my actions but I did not, however, know exactly how deep I was diving.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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No one person is told what he or she is to do in Dereth. They are just brought here. I met a few of the townspeople, acquainted myself with some of the vendors in Yanshi where I arrived, and everyone had a different idea about why it was that we were summoned. Some thought it was to start a new life, as I first thought. Others saw it as an opportunity. Still others viewed it as our chance to put behind us the corruption and greed we Isparians had left behind. To them, we all were the chosen ones. Some even think it was all just an accident.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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I tried all of these philosophies for a time. My life was no better now because I was still alone but added to that I was lost in this alien world. The foul treatment I saw by vendors or other adventure-seekers towards their fellow Isparians cured me of any thoughts of both profiteering and the Isparian people's manifest destiny. But we were here for a reason, I was certain of that. Then one day I met a hardened warrior named Maneyen.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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Aluvians were not a group of people I was familiar with. In fact, I had never seen one before materializing in Yanshi. Until then I had only heard of them. Maneyen was of Aluvian blood and he looked not a bit Sho with his long red hair and neat mustache. But Sho was in his blood as well, as he had grown up in their lands, learning their ideals and battle techniques. The Sho were a people I also was only just beginning to understand.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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Maneyen was a quiet sort. His quick wit often baffled me because he spoke so little. I often did not realize the humor or wisdom of his words until they were long past. One day, he handed me some gear and pointed me out towards the wilderness. "We are here to hunt," he said.

"Hunt what?"

"Anything you can kill."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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I found out quickly there were a lot of things I could not kill. I discovered death and how painful it could be but also how quickly it could be forgotten. I learned to fight, I mean really fight well, thanks to him. He showed me what was dangerous, where to track the creatures I could kill, gave me what I needed to survive, including the skill needed for Sho weapons such as the nekode. Soon, I was fighting things on my own. I was learning where towns were being built and where to buy the supplies I needed. At last, Maneyen knew I didn't need him any more and went to battle the things I could only aspire to kill. He was far more skilled than I was.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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And even though I had learned so much under Maneyen's tutelage, I learned a lot more on my own. Much of the time, I learned the hard way. Sometimes, I wanted to give up and go back. I had made my choice, however. Dereth was my home now.

Then one night I died. And I died. And I died some more. With each return to the lifestone, I grew weaker, less whole. My armor and weapons were gone. I was weary and stiff. Finally, I reached the end of my rope. I staggered into Cragstone feeling more lost than ever, feeling defeated.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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Maneyen had left me on my own too early, I thought. I need his help again. But I did not even know where to begin to look for him. His presence was not evident to me and I wanted so much to tell him how much trouble I was in. Some comforting, familiar voice in my head, asking me if I was okay, was all I desired.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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In my ragged clothes and tousled hair, I sat down on the ground, inadvertently landing in a muddy patch. All around me people were exchanging coin and goods, while heavenly smells wafted from the tavern and people shouted hellos to each other with good cheer. None of them noticed me or even seemed to care.

At last I petitioned a passer-by for some aid. "Please, sir. I will do anything for a kind soul to save me from my troubles." He considered my appearance and demeanor for no more than two seconds before he answered. "Sorry, stranger. I've need for a stronger sort."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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This is not what I had bargained for, I thought. I did not sign up for this.

And for those disparaging few minutes of my life, I reverted to thinking about how insignificant I was. I felt cheated.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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With my remaining few things, I pulled myself out of the mud. Whatever amount of pyreals these items might yield would help. I could surely do something with just a tiny purse to budget. Culthea Ironshaper, the armor smith, took my items with a skeptical look and handed me a small stack of pyreals. It wasn't much but I had started with less when I first arrived. Fate, I told myself, had to deal me another hand. I was trading in all my cards.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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                                 * * *

Kell was laughing and I stopped. "You sound just like my grandfather telling one of his tales," he said. "That was one of those 'back in my day' stories, wasn't it?"

I shook my head sympathetically. "We all have stories to tell, young Kell. Even you will someday. Things change and not always the way we want them or expect them to."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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He smiled at me and waggled his spear in my direction. "Are you sure you really aren't my grandfather?"

"I could take your grandfather any day," I said with a snort and banged Kell on his helmet with my staff.

"Oh, now you are gonna get it old man," he said and chased me on down the river.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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Kell, I had learned, liked to talk. Even while he was out gathering wood for our campsite, he was talking my proverbial ear off. I merely relaxed at the water's edge, hoping to spot a fish for dinner, letting him ask question after question.

 'So you agree with your friend Maneyen? We are here to rid this world of these creatures? That is our mission?' echoed his distant ghostly voice.

'As a collective, yes,' I told him. 'I don't consider it my own mission, personally.'


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
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'I dunno. You seem pretty good at killing stuff.'

I shook my head, as if trying to rid his silly little thoughts from my mind. 'I think Maneyen is right. We were summoned to take this world back. You should study your Derethian lore a little more and know these things yourself.'

Silence ensued for a few minutes. I wondered if I had scolded the boy too harshly about his studies. Admittedly, whenever that boy was not talking, I began to worry.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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'Sorry,' came his familiar inner voice at last, 'I encountered a pack of banders.'

 'You okay?'

 'Quit your worrying, old man.'

I grimaced at his new nickname for me. I did not prefer to think of myself as old so much as well-traveled.

'You mentioned your own personal mission,' said Kell. 'What makes you different since we are all here to kill monsters?'


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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'You misunderstand,' I said. 'I am here to rid this world of evil as well. It is just that I have always felt our collective purpose on Dereth was lacking a little...something.'

Kell strolled back into the area with a bundle of branches he had collected. He began to arrange them neatly in a pile just beyond the muddy riverbank. "So you had this revelation to find out what that something was?"


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Oh, I knew what that something was. And it was no revelation. My ideas are always changing, reforming. Consider that the theme of your life here on Dereth. It will make things a little easier for you."

"Ever the philosopher, Anjwar."

"Like I described before, it must be a little bit of Ispar that I couldn't ever extinguish."

                                * * *


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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My little story about picking myself up by the bootstraps and soldiering on was more than one about the unfairness of things here. It showed me the disorganized state we citizens of Dereth were in. Ironically, I learned in that same lesson that one must fend for oneself to succeed here. The two ideas, one of collectivism, the other individualism, that do not seem to mesh well at first glance. Do we gather our forces and push on to save the world or do we continue as bounty hunters, each striving to be the best? The conclusion I came to was both.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I had grown up in a home divided by philosophy, by culture, by a generation, and by ambition. I did not wish to see my new home fall to the same fate. Three different cultures have been brought here, each with people spanning many countries and languages, each having been taught a different way of life by different parents, each trying to rationalize with a good reason why they are here. Already we do not have the optimal mix of people to create an army. But this is what Asheron gave us to work with. We fight together or die apart. That is my philosophy.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I once saw a man facing a lowly mosswart. The little beast was nimble and smart and before long the lad looked troubled.  

"Please," he begged, even as the mosswart banged at his tiny sword with its own. "Heal me, help me."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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The only reply was from his foe, which promptly struck him down. The passers-by paid him no heed. I myself did nothing to help him and caught my disregard for the poor slain man with a wash of shame. I quickly killed the mosswart and its kin before the warrior returned. I even stayed until he arrived in case any others grew curious and ventured out to examine the fallen bodies.

"How much do I owe you?" he said.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"Remember this deed when you encounter another in need of assistance," I told him. "That is all the payment I ask." Not everyone agrees with my ideas, I know. It is a humbling philosophy to accept, that one by itself is not good enough. Many others do agree, however and while my own influence in this matter has been small, it has been my driving force, my personal mission.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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Conversely, I would never have made it this far were it not for what I left behind on Ispar. I have my father's ambition now; an interesting twist of fate for which I must be grateful. Once afraid I would become him, I have but I couldn't imagine it any other way. As well, I have learned the art of war like my brother. Yet still I philosophize like Satresha about our purpose here on Dereth. I would not be who I am without those I left behind and thus I owe much of my success to them as well.


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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                                    * * *

"Do you miss Ispar?"

I thought long and hard about the question. I had answered differently the last time he asked but my thoughts had been on Ispar a lot lately. "I think I really do, Kell. My little Gharu'ndim town was home to me. I had friends and family that I loved, even if I sometimes felt alone."

"I miss it too."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"This isn't such a bad place, though we must make more of an effort to survive than on Ispar," I said.

"I don't understand.  We are practically immortal here with the lifestones to protect us."

"We all leave behind family and friends, politics and business to come here. Just like when we die on this world, we leave a little behind on our bodies that must be recovered."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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"But doesn't that leaving behind of things set us free?"

"You can't be free of the past, my philosophical friend. The family and friends we establish here are just important as those we leave behind."

"Isn't it enough simply to live? I am grateful for that!"

I laughed. "Even the scrawny desert hare must live, young Kell. Perhaps you'll understand someday that surviving for Isparians is not just living, it is maintaining our way of life."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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He shook his head in puzzlement. "You are too far above me, Anjwar. As long as I am alive, I am surviving, right? What does that have to do with my way of life?"

"No, I said 'our' way of life. Even though I loathed my life on Ispar at times, I cannot forget it. The same is true for everyone. So much of what we left there is within us."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you Gharu'ndim people."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I smiled at the aspiring warrior with some fondness. At least the boy was paying attention. "Nor will I, young Kell. Just keep trying, as I do. You don't want to learn the lessons I have the hard way."

His resulting laughter, echoing off the hills and trees suddenly cut short. "Anjwar," he said with a whisper. "Let us try to take those shadows up the hill. I think we can do it together."


author_Name: Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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I nodded and reached into my pack for the items we would need. "Let me start with a few spells on that spear of yours," I said smiling. There was still a glimmer of hope yet for this one. "Look out shadows, here comes Kell."

I have never tired of that boy's infectious laugh. It reminded me so much of Satresha and Aswaan when we were young. I think my father would be proud of me now and I've wondered, perhaps after too long, if he was still alive and fighting for his world as I fight for mine.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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Life is a journey, whether traveled by foot, by wings of magic, or only in the mind, the voyager must always move forward. To stand still is to be lost.

Or to be forgotten.

I am unsure which is worse.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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                                 * * *

I never knew Ispar. When I was yet unborn, my mother carried me through the swirling portal that beckoned her to this world, answering a call she did not then, nor ever later, understand. Often have I wondered if I am alone in my state, old timers wax ever more wistful for the sky of Ispar, where the blood red moon of Dereth does not cast a pall over the night. I have yet to meet another like me, an orphan... in more ways than one.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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Perhaps the sight unseen, the world unknown, robs me of something, I know not. But I know I do not harbor the bitterness of the old timers, though I also lack their pride... life is a balance.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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                                 * * *

What have your eyes seen that mine have not,

What sounds have you heard I do not know,

Resent or resign, happy or bitter, which should I be?

                                * * *


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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I mentioned I was an orphan, did I not? Before the coming of the lifestones, a Virindi Lord struck my mother down, a petty revenge I think, but the memory is burned in my brain, one of the earliest of my childhood. The lifestones magic is proof against my body ever scarring, no matter what horrors I face. Sadly, the lifestones cannot heal the scars of the soul.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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                                * * *

Sweet release and solace,

I have yearned at times for the caress of the grave,

Yet like Hamud, I am trapped,

Deathless...

                                * * *


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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When I was young, I pledged my honor and my wand to the service of an Aluvian prince, and followed him and his retainers into glorious battle. It was a Sho Mage who trained me, a master of the healing arts. Oh, the stories I could tell....battling in the fiery heart of Mount Lethe, striding proudly across the blackened obsidian plains, standing toe to toe against an Old Lord of Dericost, and feeling victory, success. 


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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Bitter ashes... for each victory seemed to earn us nothing. As power grew so grew greed, and desire. Hands grasp, whether on Ispar or Dereth, whether those hands be Sho, or Aluvian, or Gharu'n... Envy, strife, anger... hopelessness.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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                                 * * *

Red the color of the moon,

Red the tint of fire in the Shadows' Eyes,

Red the stain on my soul....

                                 * * *


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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Verily, I knelt before the altar of the Hopeslayer, perhaps little knowing then what I did. But the whispered promise of release from the shackles of Asheron's service, a bond I never willingly accepted, lured me on, and I pledged my self...

The Children of the Hopeslayer know things the others from Ispar do not, they see with eyes unclouded by the Yalaini Mage who has hidden himself from us. Yet we are scorned, mocked, spat upon by our former peers. Some say we grow arrogant, testing our power one against the other. Perhaps that is so, but at least I *CHOSE* which master I would serve.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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I remember when first I met my Aluvian archer friend. Her youth reminded me of my own, of the things I had sought and strove for in days gone by... In truth, she gave me hope. Her quest was somewhat simpler than mine, her bow sought out the Olthoi who had slain all her family making her, like me, an orphan. We discovered that her arrows and my magic togethor could wreack great havoc on the hordes of the Olthoi, and we took great delight for some time in doing so.

More than a hunting partner, she became my friend, a trust I am loathe to give.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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                                 * * *

Time passes, and the world changes,

Life moves on, the road leading,

Who can guess what comes tomorrow?

                                 * * *


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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In my service to the Aluvian prince, I had grown great with honors and pride. Armies followed me to battle, and my name was a rallying cry (as I said, my arrogance then was great). But what I sought was not the same things that my comrades sought, and with bitter tears I asked to be released from my vow of service. One by one, I released those who had likewise pledged themselves to me...though one refused to accept, and when I walked away from my Mage-Teacher, from my comrades in arms, from my liege-lord, I did not go alone, for she went with me.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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I found quickly that I was not a born leader, and that the warriors who gathered about me needed someone to guide them in a way I did not understand. I sought out another Child of the Hopeslayer, and pledged myself and my vassals to her service, though she was slow to accept my vow. And though she did not understand my mind on many things, she knew what I sought, and respected the way I sought it.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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There is no honor in killing. My hands grow weary from the butchery, a thousand tuskers must die for each of the virindi I bring down. A hundred of the misled drudges stand in my way while I seek the masked master. When I have sought knowledge from the Old Lords, I have been met with fire and spell, I lose hope of ever finding the one whom I must find. The Frore crystal is gone... and then the one in the Nexus... history says that not many remain. My time grows short.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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Heh, no I do not rejoice that the Hopeslayer will soon walk the world. Like some in the Shadows ranks, I fear he is quite mad, if not before, then from the long years of imprisonment. He seeks revenge for deeds done so long ago that they are not even memories to my people...

Though I have little faith in the Hopeslayer, I have less in Dule. He plots for things which no Isparian can champion with good conscience.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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Have you ever stood atop the Empyrean Lighthouse in Tou Tou and looked out across the ocean? It is a wonderful sight...


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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                                  * * *

I have known hate, and greed, and anger, and revenge, and power, and lust...

But I have also known friendship, and trust, and love.

Life is a balance. I seek that place where all is in harmony.

                                  * * *


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I grow weary. Knowledge is my greatest tool, but I cannot find that one piece of the puzzle that I need, that one thing which would put the world into place, make sense of my life. My dear Aluvian archer has hope that escapes me, and to my relief she lends me her strength, and I find comfort in her presence.


author_Name: Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell
author_Account: prewritten
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I have found him I think. At long last, my search may be over... dare I hope? Dream? Tomorrow I will find out.

Tonight I sleep bathed in the light of the Red Moon, an orphan of Ispar beneath these Derethian skies.

Ariq al-Binara,
Walker Betwixt Light and Shadows


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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Loka Jii (called 'young Jii' by the Loka family) wanted to be agreat hunter. His father was an adventurer of great reknown among the Sho, and young Jii wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. Now, the hunters among us know that the most important aspect of hunting is knowledge -- knowledge of the prey, its haunts, its habits, its strengths, its weaknesses.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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The older Jii often told tales of his various hunts at mealtimes. Young Jii would listen in rapt attention to the exploits of his father.  So adept was the older Jii at spinning tales, that young Jii easily imagined himself as the hunter, stalking the prey, going in for the kill, and emerging triumphant.

Regrettably, young Jii spent so much time daydreaming of hunting that he would forget to do his chores. Even worse, Jii's daydreams were more about the triumph of victory than of the use of knowledge, skills, and patience. This would be his undoing.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
One day, Loka Jii decided to go hunting for the first time alone. He took his new yaoji, put on an old leather breastplate, leggings and leather boots, and headed north of the Loka farm. Young Jii was confident of victory in the hunt, but not because of his prowess (which he lacked in great amounts; truth to tell, Jii was a small, weak lad). No, young Jii's confidence came from his selection of prey: the wild, dangerous, and vicious black rabbit.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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You see, despite many fences and cunning traps, the Loka family garden was regularly ravaged by these vermin. (Indeed, the Jii farm was famous among the rabbit hordes for its succulent cabbages, carrots, apples, and other assorted delights.) In addition to eating the vegetables in the garden, the rabbits bred quickly, and somewhat noisily. Sometimes, during the cool spring nights, the furious rustling in the woods would keep the family awake for hours.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Young Jii was confident that his hunt would be a double success: not only would everyone acknowledge him as a hunter in his own right, but he could also rid the farm of the rabbit pests!  

Well, after some hours of hunting, Jii was frustrated. Rabbits were nowhere to be found! He searched near the cabbage garden, in the woods, across the road, and around the farm, but no rabbits. Why?


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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If only Jii had listened more carefully to his father's tales of hunting, he would have been more successful. The noises that he made while walking, quiet though they were, were still loud enough to scare away potential prey.

At any rate, tired and frustrated, Jii sat down on a nearby rock to rest and think. He imagined himself as the great slayer of rabbits, ridding the farm of the pests forever, and being acclaimed by neighbors and friends. Tired and daydreaming, he fell asleep -- awakening several hours later.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It was late evening, almost dark, and it was raining slightly. Young Jii felt ashamed, as he had wasted much good hunting time.  

Suddenly, he heard a rustling. Yes!  It was a rabbit, and nearby! Slowly, carefully, stealthily, Jii turned towards the
rabbit, lifting his yaoji.  With a great war cry, he sprang forward, and engaged the beast!

The story of the actual battle is short.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Although sometimes fierce (especially when defending their young), rabbits are not really known for their strength or stamina. Jii, even though a scrawny youngster, was able to subdue and finally conquer the monster. Flush with success, Jii bent over to gather the rabbit's carcass as his first hunting trophy.  

It was at that exact, unfortunate moment that the rabbit's mate chose to attack young Jii.

From behind.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Remember, if you will, that Jii had left home with only an old breastplate, leggings, and leather boots as armor. Unfortunately, Jii had neglected to armor a certain part of his anatomy, which was currently exposed to attack.

The rabbit, naturally, took advantage of this fact, and chose the large unarmored target that was available. With a loud,
"AAAAAH!", young Jii jumped several feet into the air in surprise, punctuating this with an "OOOOF!" as he fell to the ground, dropping his weapon as he fell.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
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As the monster came in again for the attack, Jii, now weaponless, got to his feet and ran as fast as he could for the farm, whimpering (and limping) as he ran.

Nearing the farmhouse, Jii slowed, then stopped to catch his breath. After calming down, he entered. The family was having
the evening meal, and Jii joined them, sitting down carefully, and wincing a bit.

The older Jii noticed his son's discomfort, and asked if there was a problem.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"No," said young Jii.

"Very well," said his father. "Then you will be pleased to hear that I have decided that you and I shall go hunting together tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! Thank you, father!" said young Jii, smiling (and wincing).

After dinner, Jii went to bed, slept, and dreamt dreams of hunting. The next morning, young Jii woke early. As he dressed for his first official hunting trip, he reached for his weapon.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Suddenly, he remembered: during his ferocious battle the previous day he had dropped his yaoji! It was now lost somewhere out in the fields.  He ran from the farm house, and headed for the 'battlefield'. Arriving a few minutes later, Jii was horrified to see that his yaoji had rusted in the rain beyond all hope of repair.

Despondent, he picked up the remains of his weapon, and slowly walked home.

Meeting his father at the farm house door, Jii confessed to his father all that happened the night before.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I see," said the older Jii. "Then today is probably not a good day for you to go hunting. Remain at home, do your chores, and think about what has happened." 

Young Jii did so, and thought carefully as he did his chores.

Well, the slain rabbit's mate had left its mark on young Jii (in more ways than one). As he had not properly dressed his wound, it healed poorly.  And, although in later years young Jii would grow to be a great hunter in his own right, whenever he sat down he was reminded of his first hunt.


author_Name: Loka Wu of Morningthaw
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
And some evenings, 'reminded' of his first wound borne in lethal combat, young Jii would carefully sit down and tell this story to his children, and the morals contained within:

Know your enemy;
Always be prepared;
Know yourself;

...and for goodness sake, wear the right armor!


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My footsteps crunched through the sandy soil of the Direlands, my Yaoji swinging gracefully at my side. I walked the pace of the dragonfly as my master had taught me. I could recall his teachings as if they were yesterday.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"A warrior's sword is not only a weapon, it is an extension of the body. Do you find your arms unwieldy as you walk? As you run? None but the smallest of babes find their arms an inconvenience as they walk. Your sword must be as your arm, as your hand, as your foot. The dragonfly does not drag its tail in the water as it flies. If you drag your sword I will send you back to the nursery where you belong. Walk the pace of the dragonfly."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
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When I had first heard this, it made little sense. As time wore on my sword became an extra limb. Now, I walked strangely without it at my side in this foreign world... the Palace of Emperor Kou lived only in my memory. A beautiful remembrance, especially when one is traveling through the Direlands searching for the chance to practice the teachings of his old master.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Hold," said Bertan. He adjusted the position of his quiver and stared out over the barren landscape. "There is something down there, I can smell the fires. Give me a few moments and I will return with a report." Unlimbering his bow and nocking an arrow, he walked carefully away, making little noise.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I began to prepare myself for battle as I knew Bertan would find us quarry. If he smelled fire, there would be Tumeroks or banderlings near, and we would undoubtedly fight. If left unchecked, these dark denizens of Dereth would lay claim to a less experienced band in the future. There was no longer a palace to guard, but there were honest people in this new world. I felt no less obligated to their well-being than I had to the safety of the Imperial family.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Musin al-Hamed busied himself with his endless packs of components as I adjusted and tightened the straps of my Koujia armor. I had learned to fight in the traditional armor of my people. My former trainer Kokugawa would surely disapprove of this bulky addition. Yet, he was not here and knew not the power of the creatures we faced in Dereth. Lizards breathed lightning, and rats the size of dogs spat corrosive acid as they bit at you with teeth like daggers.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In formal combat, there are rules. The ash gromnie knows no rules and my armor was now a fact of life. As was the small shield I carried on my left forearm. Yes, many things had changed since I came to this world. My people were here, as were some of our traditions. Like the replanted rice plant, some of the leaves wilt and die. The fighting styles of the Imperial Guard were good against rebels of the Sho nation, but the experience gained in this new land had taught me the way of armor and shields.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"He returns, my friend." Said Musin. I liked the Gharu'ndim mage for his skill in battle, but more than that I liked his formality and sense of decorum. In the heat of combat he was calm and collected. In Fort Tethana he dealt with all people the way of a Sho merchant, polite and patient. He claims to have been a herdsman on Ispar. A herdsman turned battlemage. Dereth changed us all in its own way.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Bertan moved close to us and knelt on the blasted earth. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and began to draw a map of the field. "We have a collection of banders down there. Two berserkers and a striker. I think we can take them, but we best take that striker down fast. What do you think Harima?"


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
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"Musin, can your magics affect this striker?" I asked.

He stroked his oiled beard and stated, "I have in the past, yes. They are resistant to my magic, but it can be done." I had fought with Musin long enough to know that he would not speak a mistruth or let ego alter opinion of his magical abilities.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"The striker is then our first target. I suggest we take him from afar before his spells weaken us. Musin, open with your spells on the striker, Bertan let fly as he casts the magic. Deal with the striker and I will hold the berserkers at bay. Musin, if the striker falls and a berserker comes for you, there is no shame in recalling to the stone." I stared at him to be sure my words registered. The Gharu'ndim were a proud people and I had no wish for Musin to experience pain.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"It will be as you say, Harima, but know I dislike leaving the field of battle when my compatriots yet fight."

I nodded and turned to Bertan. "Are you ready?"

He replied, "Hmm, not yet. Let me fletch some of the lightning arrowheads. It is important that we destroy the striker quickly, and banderlings dislike these." He then put on some leather gloves to protect his hands and began lashing arrowheads with alacrity. "A score should do it, if it takes more than that we are kissing the lifestone anyway," he said with a grin.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Bertan was always quick to joke and added an element of humor to our hunting group. His words had a way of dispelling tension in the worst of situations. While not as reliable as Musin in matters of warfare, and sometimes apt to make the wrong decision, he was a true shot and rarely did more harm than good. "Okay, that should do me. Let's go give those fellows a warm welcome to our little piece of the Direlands."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Musin and I followed Bertan to the scouted grounds. Stopping, Bertan said "This is a clear spot for me to shoot, good angle and the cliff serves as a wind deadfall. Can you cast from here Musin?"

Musin looked toward the dots of fire in the distance. "Indeed I can, Bertan, but I have little idea of which is the striker from this distance."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Bertan peered over towards the Banderling camp. "Seems like someone has been up too late reading his Alamakhaida by candlelight. The striker is the one on the left, sort of lying down. I think he is eating rabbit, but it could be chicken. Rabbit tastes like chicken anyway, so he may not know either," he said as his grin widened. I could not help but chortle with mirth over Bertan's ability to joke even as he drew the shaft of his arrow to cheek.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"You may begin your charge, Harima," said Musin as he pulled out his wand. I set off towards the distant campfires at a jog, my armor clacking together as the plates of the Koujia suit made contact. I heard the words of magic from behind me and I saw the familiar dark shroud descend over the striker. Musin's magic had found success on the first cast. This was a good portent and I picked up my pace.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As I neared the camp I saw the striker throw a rabbit carcass to the ground and begin his dance of casting. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a purple streak as Bertan's lightning arrow flew swiftly toward the striker. "I have been weakened by the striker!" shouted Musin. Not a shout of panic, but a shout to inform. He then began casting again as I moved to intercept the berserkers. In their blind rage of battle they were paying me no mind, a fatal mistake on their part.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I then heard the striker howl with rage as Bertan's arrow made contact. Musin's spell seemed to have no affect as I heard him cast again. I pulled my sword free from its sheath and closed the small gap that remained between charging berserkers and myself.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Meeyyyaaargh!" screamed the striker, and I knew that Bertan had destroyed the creature before it could sway the momentum of this battle. I came in low against the nearest berserker, whose eyes were still locked on Musin. I deftly cut the back of his lower leg and he crumpled to the ground. I performed the hummingbird's dive as I had been instructed to do when my enemy fell in this way. My Yaoji plunged through the creature's back and I felt it slid into the sand of the Direlands.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The fallen berserker was true to his name as he unexpectedly lashed out and grabbed my leg, clamping his teeth onto my calf in a painful bite. I planted my feet in the sand and brought my shield down on the offending beast's head, the full force of my weight behind the blow. The creature's skull caved, and the pain in my calf subsided as his jaws released.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I quickly raised my shield to defend against the attacks of the other berserker, now recognizing the danger I presented. I left my sword in the back of the dead banderling and pulled my nekode from a loop of my belt. My master's words again came back to me "Waste no time retrieving a weapon sheathed in the carcass of your enemy. The unexpected attack is always more powerful. In battle, time is a warrior's enemy. Every action that is not a killing blow, should be an action toward that blow."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I defended as I waited for Musin to cast his spell. He and I had fought many battles and I knew to conserve my energy as he weakened my enemy. Banderling Berserkers were a mighty foe. The first was killed with surprise. This creature was alert and battle plans change according to the state of ones opponent. The dark shroud that signaled the death of this berserker descended over his form. I heard the twang of Bertan's bow and saw the purple sparks flash as it sped toward the target.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The berserker was distracted by Musin's magic and glanced toward the caster. I leapt and slashed at the creature's exposed neck, cutting deeply into its throat. Purple blood splattered on my armor and shield. The banderling let forth a loud gurgling bellow that quickly turned into a shriek as Bertan's arrow found its mark. The broken creature toppled as the lightning arrowhead protruded from the front of its chest. The purple blood crackling and popping as it touched the electrified head.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I removed my red-gold kabuton and smiled at my companions. "Well fought friends." I wrenched my Yaoji from the first berserker and then pulled a coarse cloth from my packs to wipe the blood from my armor and weapons.

"Yes, well fought indeed," said Musin.

Bertan moved to the camp to see what worthwhile items we could stow for sale on return to Tethana. "Hey guys, look. I told you it was rabbit."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Musin began to laugh at Bertan's observation. His laughter stopped suddenly as a dark shroud appeared over him. He pivoted and pointed. "Over there! Something has cast a spell of great power on me." The archer looked up from the campsite as I dropped the bloody rag to the broken ground.

"I don't see anything. Musin, get out of here now, now, now!" Bertan screamed.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Musin fumbled for his wand and, as his fingers made contact, I saw a streak of green movement come from above. Musin screamed as the largest banderling I had ever seen landed on him feet first, as a bird of prey swooping down. The impact was well placed to the small of his back. I heard a sickening crack as Musin's wand flipped through the air and landed, quivering in the sand. "Enforcers and thrashers, we have to get out of here Harima!"


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I turned and fled with Bertan, though he quickly outpaced me. He wore light armor and carried only a bow. He was also gifted with fleet feet and was well known for his speed. I ran in tow and then felt the magic of the banderlings touch my soul. A spell slowed my pace as my strength waned, my armor growing heavy. A shroud of death appeared around me as one had on Musin. I could hear the thrasher approaching and glanced back, panic filling my heart.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Flakes of frost fell from the creatures club. As I noticed this, the cruel god of fate took hand and one of the enforcers dropped a shroud of blue over my running body. Musin had taught me the meaning in the colors and I knew the thrasher would quickly dispose of me with his frost weapon. Bertan dropped out of sight, our running speed now vastly different with the weakness upon me.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Again the words of my trainer Kokugawa rang in my ears "In death, a warrior should pass in such a way to further the goals of the Emperor. A warrior of skill knows when he is outmatched and knows when the battle turns against him. Accept your fate and ensure your death has meaning."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I stopped and turned to face the thrasher. My death would come quickly, yet I would buy Bertan some time. I fought only to survive long enough to allow Bertan escape from these powerful foes. Readying myself in a defensive stance, I placed the dull side of my Yaoji against the length of my right forearm where it would serve as a second shield.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The thrasher attacked with ferocity. Having never faced one of these renowned creatures, I knew not what to expect. The enforcers approached from the distance, but I concerned myself not with them. Only one thing claimed my attention, the angle of icy arcs the club of the thrasher traced as he attacked. I blocked and evaded, once, twice, the parries seemed to touch the ice club by chance as I desperately backpedaled.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I heard the words of my trainer ring in the air, "The armor slows you and your shield is a crutch. The enemy is foolish and attacks without discipline. These creatures are easily confused, yet it is you who are predictable." Another memory of a lost world. I felt myself fall, tripping over a gnarled branch of a stubborn evergreen. Odd that they even grew in this blasted place.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Stay down and accept your defeat. You will learn something from this battle yet, Sho warrior," said the voice of Kokugawa. The thrasher howled in victory and raised his club for the killing blow. A shadow blocked the sun from my eyes as the form of a man leapt over my body and kicked the banderling square in the chest, driving it backwards as its icy club fell to the cracked earth.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Watch and listen," said my teacher, come as if an angel or a vision. He stood with his tachi strung at his side, a Suikan robe of my people his only protection from the elements. He adopted a low battle stance, left palm out towards the thrasher. "These creatures attack with no discipline, relying on rage to fuel their attacks. A true warrior watches the enemy for the opening and waits to strike."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The pair of enforcers noticed the new combatant and began their tribal dance of magic. A dark shroud appeared around Kokugawa, yet he never strayed his glance from the thrasher. He had carefully dodged two wild swings from the banderling, using the most miniscule of movements. He danced through the strikes, never taking his eyes from the face of the thrasher. My former master lifted his knee up high, pivoting for what I expected to be a devastating kick to the face of the banderling.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The thrasher saw the movements and pulled his head away from the impending blow. With a flash the Emperor's trainer kicked high and missed by inches, causing the banderling to reel backwards protecting his face. Without breaking the momentum of his feint, Kokugawa spun on his planted foot and swept the legs from the thrasher. As he spun, he pulled a silver katar from within the folds of his robe and drove the point into the thrasher's neck. Immediately he leapt back from the attack and adopted his low stance, returning the katar to the folds of his robe.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The thrasher began to twitch violently and pawed uselessly at his neck, but Kokugawa had already withdrawn from that battle and turned to face the new threat. "This particular strain of banderling relies far too much on the ways of magic. Their combat skill are lacking. If one pays careful attention to their dance of casting, their spells of war come with warning. Observe."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The enforcers paused to cast again and a blue shroud descended around Kokugawa. A spell of frost rolled lazily through the air towards him. I was now standing and watching the conflict. I did not remember raising from the ground, my amazement at the appearance of the Emperor's Blade had completely fuddled my wits.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Kokugawa ran directly towards the spell and leapt high in the air at the last possible moment. He gracefully flipped and landed gently between the enforcers. I was no expert on the ways of banderlings, yet I sensed that they were as shocked at this maneuver as I. The Sho bladesman had released the bindings of his tachi while leaping through the air and now crouched in a defensive stance.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
One enforcer recovered from the surprise of Kokugawa's leap faster than the other and kicked at the swordsman. His foot met only atmosphere as the warrior sidestepped and drew his tachi in a flashing backward arc, cleaving the foot from the leg that had entered his fighting sphere.

"This creature is slowed and in pain. I can now safely defend myself from his attacks while engaging the other. It is important to remember that fighting on two fronts is easier if one is weakened with your first action. I shall now dispatch the stronger of the two."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The footless enforcer pressed his attack. Kokugawa effortlessly blocked his attempts with the hardened sheath of his now bared tachi. As he parried with the sheath, he pressed his attack on the healthy enforcer with his blade. It danced through the air and drew blood in a deadly pattern from the enforcer. It looked as if he sought not a quick kill, instead choosing to destroy his target with minor lacerations, thus allowing his attentions to be split between the two.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The enforcer that faced his blade began to whimper and whine, his blows becoming slower and in many cases would not have reached their mark even if Kokugawa had stood as still as a statue. The creature desperately slashed at his enemy and overextended his arm. Kokugawa reacted quickly and cut a deep gash in the easy target. The banderling fell to its knees and the swordsman sidestepped away from the exhausted enforcer, leaving him where he knelt, bleeding to death.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"By acting with conservative tactics I have maintained my battle readiness. The creature that now dies on the ground had no discipline and allowed his taste for battle to wane." He spoke as he blocked the feeble attempts of the last banderling to lay a hand on him. His tachi's sheath still serving as an impenetrable web of blocks and feints. "The creature before me now fights only because he knows he cannot flee. The battle is over before it begins if one fights without heart."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
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On saying that, he slashed the creatures stomach open and stepped away from it as pink organs flowed onto the ground. The banderling enforcers whined and moaned in pain. Kokugawa quickly and mercifully ended their suffering with two swipes of his razor sharp tachi. Their heads now lay on the sands of the direlands, an expression of pain and exhaustion still apparent on their visages.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
He then walked toward me and stopped suddenly, shock registering on his face and breaking his normally serene facade. "Harima? Yes, I see that it is you. Remove that helmet that I may look on your face clearly." I did so quickly and met his glance. "I had wondered at your disappearance from the palace guards. I thought you had found a woman and started a family. You would not be the first lost to such a thing, yet I had no idea you took the portal as I did."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
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It suddenly registered that the Emperor's Blade was here, in Dereth, and not on Ispar where he belonged. "What are you doing here? The Emperor needs you! I was but a guard and could answer the call to this world. You are a needed member of the royal forces. How could you come to this world? How could you leave such a responsibility?" Anger had begun to enter my voice as I realized my old ruler had lost the best of his warriors.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
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"I see you are disturbed. I would imagine your friends are at Tethana awaiting your return. Let us go there and speak no more until we are comfortable in the inn. I have my reasons for leaving the Emperor, and, truthfully, I did not expect to meet one of my students. Come, let us walk." He turned and headed in the direction that Bertan fled and walked the pace of the dragonfly through the sands of the Direlands.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I kept my own counsel as I followed. I carried much respect for my old teacher and held faith that he must have his reasons for departing the Emperor's side. New arrivals from the land of my people reported that the Emperor was alive and in good health. Kokugawa's knowledge of banderling tactics indicated that he had been here for some time. As such, he could not have been released from his life service. He must have entered Dereth of his own free will. Perhaps he fell to dishonor in the Emperor's eyes?


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Tethana loomed into view and I knew my answers would soon come. Patience was a virtue I had been taught by this man and I would exercise that lesson even as my mind toyed with the possible reasons. Treason? Forbidden love? Decadence on the part of Emperor Kou? The list was endless and I wasted my time with supposition.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We entered the gate of Tethana and I saw Musin leaning against the wall of the inn. The effects of his recent demise were apparent and he pushed away from the wall and walked weakly in our direction. "Greetings, Harima. Greetings, swordsman. My friend, Bertan is resting upstairs. He informed me that you were surely defeated and would be arriving via lifestone. I see this is not the case. Who is your companion and, I venture to guess, your savior?"


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
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"This is Kokugawa." I said, pronouncing the name with meaning.

"Ah," said Musin. "He shares the same name as your oft-mentioned trainer from Ispar. Quite the coincidence to meet a countryman of the same name. Are they related?"

"No, this is the same Kokugawa that trained me," I said.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
He silently mouthed "Oooo" and said, "I see. You two have much to discuss then. When you are ready to return to the place of my body, let me know and I will rouse Bertan. I must recover my wand if you wish my spells to assist our battles in the future." He then bowed in perfect Sho fashion to Kokugawa and said, "If you will excuse me, I too feel the need to rest." Kokugawa nodded, and Musin turned and entered the inn.

"Shall we eat?" said my old master.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Surely." I replied, still biding my time and awaiting his story.

"Good... though the banderlings are easy prey, the battle still makes me hungry," he explained as he walked into the inn. We silently took seats at an open table and awaited the barmaid. He requested water and stew. I asked for the same, as is the custom of students.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I see you still follow the old rules of our court here," he said with a smile. "This is not court anymore, Harima. Your patience on the trip back here speaks well of you. We will discuss your armor and shield at a later time." His words seemed to come in a less formal fashion that I remembered. Although he spoke in a way that demanded attention, he no longer used the voice of strict command that I recalled from the palace.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I have not had to explain my presence here to anyone since arriving. I did not expect to meet any who would know me. Palace life is so secluded and as a member of the Imperial retinue, even more so. How odd that I came to this world two moons after you did, and knew it not until this day.

"I can see the question in your eyes. Why am I here? Why would I leave the Emperor Kou? Why would a man of my station come to Dereth and start over with nothing? I think I can explain best with a story. It is a story of an honored sword, and I thought on it often in the weeks before I came here. It begins like this;


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"There once was a lord of a mighty house who had a blade of great craftsmanship that was known throughout the lands. In battle, the blade would cleave through his enemies like a scythe through the grasses of the flatlands. After many battles and many campaigns, the enemies of this man and his mighty blade would surrender at the mere spectacle of its drawing from the sheath.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"The lord's house grew to great power and the blade was passed to his son and the first son of his son. After two generations the blade sat in a shrine. It had not been drawn in battle for forty years, for there was no need. The house had no enemies and those who would think to oppose the house, needed only remember that the sword could still be drawn. So the blade sat in its sheath. It was an icon, a thing of beauty to be looked upon with awe, but not to be used.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Eventually, the lord's house consumed the other houses and the shrine of the blade became a thing of religion, visited often by warriors and those of the weaponsmith arts. Little did they know that the blade had long ago welded itself to its sheath. It had grown old and was a relic of a forgotten time. It would see no battles, it would know no glory.

"One must ask; is it still a blade? And if not, when did it become something else?


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"That is the end of the story, Harima, but the beginning of mine. Two weeks after your departure, a purple glow filled my room. An apparition of a man with a long beard appeared before me. The man was old and pale, like the Aluvians you see in Dereth now. Yet, he was no Aluvian. His cheekbones were too high, his eyes too deep. There was something about his demeanor that defined him as noble.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"He spoke in my mind and explained that he came from another world and his people were in need. On this world a great and important conflict was brewing. Warriors were needed for this coming battle of cataclysm. The place was dangerous and unsafe, but some choose to learn its ways, and I would be of use in this war. He then offered me the opportunity to come to this other world.


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I thought to refuse, and claim that my Emperor needed my services, but he spoke again in my mind before I could reply."

"Are you a blade on a shelf, Kokugawa?"

"The man's insight was true, and struck to the core of my obsession with this story. I took the portal without saying another word, and since then I have learned the ways of this world. I have not seen the bearded man again, but I seek him and prepare for the coming battle."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
He paused then, and sighed. "I have often missed my old life. There have been difficult times and I have visited the blue stone more than most." He caught my eyes with a purposeful stare. "Yet no man in Dereth can say I am a blade on a shelf. I am a Sho swordsman and I will serve in no shrine again."

He stood, and the chair beneath him slid away from the table. "I trust my explanation finds favor with you. I would like to renew your teachings. If you wish to do so, hand that armor of yours to one of the needy outside. We will then head out and get your Gharu'ndim friend his wand."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"I will go rouse the other. A fast fellow, that Aluvian is." He glanced back as he walked away. "I trust I will see you in a Suikan robe at Tethana's gate."

I quickly finished my stew and found Musin. "Kokugawa is coming to assist us in recovering your wand. Sadly, I must part from your company after that. I have chosen to renew my lessons with him. I hope we will meet again in the future, Musin."


author_Name: Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Musin smiled softly and placed his hand on my shoulder "I wish you luck as you learn the ways of your old master. Bertan and I will be hard pressed to find a warrior of your skill, but I understand the need."

I cupped my hands to my mouth and shouted aloud to the traders of Tethana. "I am trading a full set of Koujia armor to the first person who hands me a Suikan robe." Someone was getting a good deal in Tethana today.  That someone was me.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
       Third Journal Page of Nandesu Ka

                            Fifth Day

   (**ca. 15th of Coldeve, 10PY - Nan**)


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It was, I think, the hunger that finally decided it for me.

On the third day after leaving the old couple's home, after two days of rooting around in trash heaps and finding very little to ease the ache of an empty belly, after asking at every shop in Shoushi if there wasn't, perhaps, some odd job that I could do, for food, for the scraps from the shop-keeper's table... and of learning that a dozen wanderers had been there before me...


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
They were two hardened fellows, the pair of warriors standing before the blacksmith's shop eyeing the weapons and armor for sale. I had just awoken from a troubled sleep huddled against the warm stones of the shop's wall nearest the forge.   Well, warm at least when the shop had closed for the night and the streets had emptied as everyone else went home to their beds. But somewhere in the night, after the fire of the forge had been banked, the stones against which I sheltered lost their warmth and I woke cold and cramped.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
And hungry.

So very hungry that finally the need overrode the pride.

The two samurai scarce noticed me - a dirty little peasant girl shivering in the damp chill of morning.  They were arguing over the merits of chain versus scale. Whatever that meant, whatever 'chain' or 'scale' was.

"Please, honored sirs. Would you... could you spare a coin or two?  A bit of food?"


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It took all the determination I could muster to utter those words. Having said them, I could only stare at the ground beneath my feet. Utterly ashamed. Utterly beaten.

There was the longest silence. Finally the shorter of the two - the one with the raggedly trimmed beard - growled, "What? Is it the coins I risked my life to get from that Prowler that you want? Or perhaps it's the meager scraps those 'warts yielded after twenty minutes of fighting and both my legs mangled and my arm fairly wrenched from its socket? Is that what I'm supposed to give you just for the asking?"


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
His companion laid a hand on the speaker's arm and rumbled, "Perhaps a few pennies? Surely, Genda-san, we can spare..."

My heart leapt at the prospect of finally having the means to purchase something... anything... to eat, and just as quickly fell when 'Genda-san' snarled, "No! We all work for what we have here! I'll not tolerate beggars." He shrugged his companion's hand from the arm that he then flung out, pointing to the southwest. "You want to eat? You want coins? There!  The Grotto is just there, on that hill. Go and earn your keep as I did when I first arrived! And if I catch you begging again..."


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I didn't hear what dire consequences awaited me. I was already running through the mud and the growing morning crowds, tears streaming down cheeks that burned crimson with shame. Before I knew it, I was out the gate and half way up the hill that Genda-san had been pointing at.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The low hum, the same noise that I'd heard that day in the field before I was snatched away, that's what finally brought me up short. I had been so confused and desperate to be away from the shame of my failed attempt at beggary that but for the stab of fear that noise produced in my pounding heart, I would have run right through the portal and not even seen it. As it was, I skidded to a halt no more than one or two paces from the roiling blue disk that hung in mid-air.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This must be 'The Grotto.' This must be where the warriors went to fight with the monsters and so earn bread and coin. But I was no warrior. I had no confidence whatsoever in the strange abilities I'd found while wandering the corridors of that stone tower my first day in this alien land. And as for the magic I'd discovered, what was that worth?  There were monsters beyond that spinning blue circle. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew.

Monsters.  

Death.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Again, it was the hunger that finally decided me.  I was lost and alone and so hungry. Better to be dead than to live like this.  Maybe it would be quick.

I stepped into the circle of blue . . .

...and just as when I had been snatched from Papa's field, just as when Old Farmer had thrust me into the churning purple circle before that stone pyramid on my first day, I was spinning, tumbling down a long, dark tunnel...


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
...into a stone corridor that I knew was deep beneath the ground upon which I had been standing but moments before.

There was no obvious way out. No passage back to the surface. The corridor in which I stood forked in three directions ahead. I could go right, past a closed iron grate.  (Assuming I could get the grate open.) I could turn left and pass through another grate.  Or I could open a third grate and go down a long, sloping tunnel that led to...

What?


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Down. I would go down and the monsters would find me and it would end. My fingers trembled as they pushed against the third grate and it swung open with a rusty creak. My fingers didn't share my resolve. My fingers, apparently, wanted to live a few miserable days longer.

A half-dozen creeping steps brought me into a large chamber, stone roofed and smelling of damp and rot.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There, on the floor at the foot of the ramp, was the monster. It was a ghastly thing. A pasty-white fleshed demon sprung from my childhood nightmares. Misshapen and horrid, it was no larger than a child itself, but terrifying none the less.

Dead.

Someone... or perhaps something? Something even more horrible than this little troll? ...had slashed the creature's belly open and left it to die.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My resolve to end my life crumbled. I wanted only to flee, to see no more. But my feet wouldn't move. I stood there, trembling, sobbing. Wanting to be home in my bed, awaking to hear Mama bustling about making breakfast.

Instead I heard a sudden rush of air and the growl of some kind of magic. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flicker of purple light and movement. Another of the demons had materialized not ten feet away. It had materialized facing me, staring right at me.  With a shrill cry of delight it shambled forward, arms outstretched. Its greedy claws reaching out to rend and tear.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Perhaps I screamed. I don't know. I only know I turned and fled... right into a corner from which there was no way to escape. I was to have my wish.  No more hunger or loneliness. No more anything. I huddled against the cold, wet stones, buried my face in my hands and prayed to The Elders that there wouldn't be too much pain.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I don't know where she came from. Perhaps from one of the other corridors that led off this main chamber. I know she had been here for a time in this dark, terrifying place. The sweat that matted her golden hair and ran into a pair of eyes the color of a summer morning sky, the deep gash on her arm that dripped crimson, these told the tale. She had been in at least one fight already.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
She was exhausted, badly hurt. Yet she didn't hesitate for a moment. With a snarl she came flying at the demon that was about to rend me. The little sword in her hand slashed and the demon howled its sudden anger and pain. It forgot me... for the moment... and turned on this new morsel, a red light burning in its bulbous, evil eyes.

They traded blows, the yellow-haired girl and the demon. Twice her blade connected and the demon shrieked. But its claws too were having effect, and she had entered this battle already tired and injured.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
She stumbled, her sword-arm losing strength, the little blade now hanging loosely in her hand. Too heavy now to swing as hard as she had at first. Seeing this the demon chittered with glee and slashed her, hard, across the face. She grunted and staggered back another step, her lifeblood flowing into her eyes. Blinding her. The demon closed, ready to kill, ready to feast.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I don't think I consciously planned it. The wand... it just seemed to appear in my hand of its own volition. The words formed on my lips with out thought or will on my part. My hands stabbed out and the magic flew from my fingertips to swirl around the female warrior. Almost instantly the wound on her brow closed. Again she grunted, but this time it was with surprise. Those strange, beautiful eyes flew wide for an instant, then narrowed. The little blade in her hand swung up again, slashed again.

And again.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The demon shrieked once, a sound that was equal parts frustrated rage and pain. Then it collapsed at her feet. She dropped to her knees, exhausted, beside it.

For a long, long moment we stayed like that. Dead demon, exhausted warrior and frightened girl. Then my savior wiped the sweat and blood from the golden locks that hung almost to her eyes, sheathed the little blade and began to rummage about on the demon's body.

Three coins, not enough to buy a stale loaf, and a brown, bruised apple.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The warrior raised the apple to her lips, was about to take a bite... when she remembered me.

Those exotic eyes searched mine. She held out the apple to me, her lips quirking in a tired smile.

I wanted it, that wretched scrap of fruit. I needed it so badly.  

But she needed it even more. I shook my head.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
She shrugged and gobbled it down in three quick bites, core and all. Then with a soft groan she rose from her knees and in a strangely accented but understandable voice she said, "Come. Let's find something for you."

Still terrified... but perhaps not quite so terrified as a moment before... I followed her into the dark.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
**23rd day of Leafcull, 13 P.Y.

I have to add a post script to this little tale. The Aluvian and I spent the rest of that day wandering the corridors of Shoushi Grotto. She fought. I healed. And trembled. And tried not to let her hear my frightened whimpers.  When I curled up against the stones of the blacksmith's shop that night I had a treasure trove of four apples, two wedges of cheese and the princely sum of 46 pyreals! So began my life as an adventurer here in Dereth.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This postscript deals with something that happened... I've lost track of the day. Months ago now. I was in Arwic, shopping for supplies at Guthima's. I was heading for the portal back to Tou Tou when I remembered that it had been almost six months since Obunaga's arrival. That called for some kind of anniversary celebration. Since it's impossible to calculate birthdays here, I further decided that the celebration I now planned called for the exchange of gifts. The Carsmad's smithy was close at hand. Perhaps I could find a new blade or some other warrior's toy to delight my brother.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The crowd of shoppers at the main counter - the one facing the square - was too large so I walked around the building to the back window. There were only three people there. They were standing close enough to each othern and were talking in such familiar, friendly tones that I knew they were together. Two of them, a man and a woman, were obviously warriors. The third member of the trio was a mage, like myself. From the sigil on his robes I could read that he was an Adept of both War and Creature magic. I bowed to him as one bows to an equal,a bow he gravely returned in equal degree before resuming his contemplation of the array of daggers that Cateril had laid


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
out.

I raised my eyes from my bow and glanced at the two warriors to judge my place in line behind them.  

It was she, the Aluvian from so long ago.

But changed. No fear or fatigue on her now. Now she was as proud and formidable as the gleaming broadsword slung across her armor clad shoulders. No sweat or blood now marred the golden flow of hair she wore in a leather bound warrior's plait.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
For a moment I was tempted to walk up to her, to see if she remembered that time so long ago when, for a moment, two frightened girls shared the terror and thereby made it smaller. But when her companion - a tall, handsome, raven haired fellow - whispered something in her ear and she threw back her head and laughed, slipped her arm within the crook of his and smiled at him as a woman smiles at the man she loves, I turned and walked away.


author_Name: Nandesu Ka of Leafcull
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
She would not recognize me for I too was changed. That is the nature of this, my new world. It changes people. Those two frightened little girls... hungry, hurt, alone in the dark... they no longer exist.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I am pleased to have thee with us. I am also pleased that thy forces have secured the Stone.

Keep it safe as you may. I shall dispatch forces of my own to assist thee. In the meantime, keep the knowledge of Caulnalain's existence from thy comrades, and continue to alter the facility to serve our ends.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I expect the rotting ones to besiege thee at some point. Ler Rhan's forces attempted to wrest control of Fenmalain from them already, so they are aware we move. My own inaction nearly won the day. Only the interference of the outlanders turned victory into defeat.

It is not impossible that the outlanders may discern your location. They are not as inept as our comrades would think. I observed their reaction to the probing of Ler Rhan and Ferah. They are uneducated, yet not stupid.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Fools, though, they may be. In ignorance they have already destroyed three Stones. Some seek the release of the Herald for their own ends. Some of these may serve him openly; others think they may be able to defeat him. Some seek more of the armor with which they fight us. Some simply slay all before them that is not of their kind. They know not what is truly at stake. Be vigilant. Hold the Caulnalain against our enemies mortal and immortal.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Remain wary of the Cloaked-Breath creatures. Ever they watch. I am unsure of their motive. Should one appear, observe it carefully, but do not draw its ire.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
How can this be permitted?

Again, the forces promised by Dule have failed to appear. I was to have at my command twice as many as I actually enjoyed. We attacked as planned, but failed to achieve our goals - we simply had not the numbers. We pressed the rotting ones hard, but were forced to withdraw in disarray.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Many were lost that should not have been, my lord Ler Rhan. The oldest and most powerful in my force lie strewn about the upper halls. This inefficiency cannot be tolerated! How many more times will we permit our goals to be thwarted by the inactivity of that cold, recalcitrant schemer?

I am now assembling the survivors from across the complex, organizing them into companies, and preparing another assault. This time, we shall carry the field. I doubt, however, that we shall have the strength to achieve our object once the rotting ones are cleared away.


author_Name: Unknown
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My only hope, barring the dispatch of more of our limited forces, lies in the greed of the outlanders. They now know that destroying what lies below will create more of those obnoxious, self-replicating fragments. They do so love that cursed armor. Despite the assassin's harrying of the smiths, the chance to loose more of the resource into the world will surely prove too great a temptation.

I go now to fight the servants of the Old Ones. I likely as not shall die in the endeavor. A curse upon the name of Dule. May the Black Breath boil him away!


author_Name: Sahoni Arsanc
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My lord Anadil,

I pray that you will forgive my brevity, as our enterprise is in distress. By your command, my Lord Ghere gained entry to the storage facility yesterday, using the arts of the planar mage Saronika. There were no defenders. My Lord Ghere's assumption was that the Yalain were reluctant to leave guardian golems, lest their enchantments serve to give away the facility's location.


author_Name: Sahoni Arsanc
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Our force quickly moved through out the corridors, setting traps and defensive barricades. Lord Ghere then sent a sizable company to the Shendolain facility, under the command of the Lady Ellenia of Berchest. He did not think it prudent at that time to attempt any further division of our forces, until you deemed the moment ripe for our reinforcement.


author_Name: Sahoni Arsanc
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We believe that sometime last night the Enemy captured the enchantress Saronika, and took her for their own. The last we saw of her, she cast a plane-slant spell back to the surface, tasked with bringing news of our activity to you. As yet, she has not returned, and it was only this morning that Lord Ghere received your request for information on our progress. A general muster was immediately called, as Lord Ghere expected the Enemy in force at any moment.


author_Name: Sahoni Arsanc
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Eight hours ago, the Enemy's forces began to pour into the facility in large numbers. The battle was fierce indeed, my Lord, and raged for nearly six hours. I write you now as the most powerful survivor of our expeditionary company. Lord Ghere died quite early in the action, holding at bay several Uvriliim in the upper levels. Our mighty were cut down one by one, although they also took a heavy toll of the Enemy. The dark spawn nearly reached Lord Ghere's post at the base of the facility, whence I now write you. Then, as if by some silent command, all withdrew at once.


author_Name: Sahoni Arsanc
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I dare not think they have retreated utterly, my lord. What lies at the bottom of this facility is too precious. My pickets report whispering from the upper tunnels, though the source appears to shift by the second. As our corpse retrieval parties have recovered our destroyed and lost comrades, they have encountered small groups of the dark spawn, which withdrew rather than engage us.


author_Name: Sahoni Arsanc
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
My lord, I now command a much-depleted force, consisting of the weaker and wounded common soldiery. I do fear we no longer have sufficient force to hold this facility from the servants of the Enemy. I pray you to speed reinforcement, lest the next sally dislodge us utterly. We expect a fresh assault from the upper levels at any moment. I will send this note to you through our last surviving enchanter, Lord Pleridarc of-

I hear now the clatter of renewed combat. The shouts are foreign. They may be in the tongue of the outlanders.


author_Name: Elleina of Berkesh
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Anadil, I demand you send me additional forces! That fool Ghere never respected me, and left me with a bare garrison, a mix of forces from Chalicmere and Aerlinthe. I have no knowledge of what is going on in the world above - Ghere also never chose to share Asmolum's reports with me. Is it true that the night sky has altered as it did during the Great War? Considering how Ghere and his portion of our force recently met their end, I have to assume that the forces of the Enemy are gathering against me even now! Speed is of the essence!


author_Name: Elleina of Berkesh
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Since you so brusquely demanded a "report" from me, know that I have set the bulk of my forces to defend the various gates of the upper facility, and the peculiar obsidian obelisk at its bottom. The crystals below can defend themselves quite ably, although I have set a few guardians of my own to aid them should the Enemy reach there. I am loathe to waste my precious soldiers on those monotonously humming rocks, or let them too near. One of the weak-willed Letzimestal soldiers Ghere unlade on me ventured too close last week, and was found staring into its facets, mumbling about the end of light and so forth. I destroyed him at once.


author_Name: Elleina of Berkesh
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Everything is quiet, at least until the Enemy arrives, and I am bored. I am reduced to carving images on the walls by torchlight. The dim illumination from those pre-Falatacot symbols is not enough to provide any real light, and I cannot even read what they say! I have no idea what use this facility may have been before the Yalain converted it, but it greatly vexes me. The constant rumbling from the central column makes it almost impossible to meditate properly.


author_Name: Elleina of Berkesh
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
When you send my reinforcements, have them bring more chyle wine, for I am out, and grow irritable without this most basic amenity.

Elleina of Berkesh


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
To my esteemed colleagues, Aliester the Loquacious and Gondo Kanezo:


Gentlemen, I sense great events are afoot in our land. The ley lines have become unstable, strange energies are accumulating at menhir rings, and several new rock formations have sprung up in the Linvak range, in the north mountains near Mt. Esper, and in the Obsidian Plains. Keep your scouts alert for more geomantic activity.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is I, Alatar Locke, writing here in the silent remnants of a once gloriously powerful work that I call the Floating City.  I call it thus for a two-fold reason: the marvels of some of its architecture, and the way sections of the city seem almost to float aimlessly in portal space, subject to the maddening tricks of a capricious magic.  You may see for yourself more of what I mean if you have more than a casual tourist's resolve.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The people who lived here last were undoubtedly Empyrean of the Era of Lore.  Drunken with new knowledge after the magic of portals were "first" harnessed by Asheron, it seems they explored all of Auberean eagerly, and stumbled upon ruins containing even older and more obscure magic.  They repaired and altered what they could of the ruins, and some even took to building within anew.  Thus it is, you see, that a forgotten city stands upon a forgotten city.
If you traverse further I may perhaps tell you more... 


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is I, Alatar Locke, writing as I listen to  the comfortingly mysterious sounds of what I call the Lost Chamber of the Floating City.
I am convinced the ancient magic of this place is unstable; perhaps now you see for yourself how the portals link the scattered pieces of the city together, and how, indeed, even those portals are unpredictable at times - much like the portals that lead one into and out of the City itself.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
While many doubt the Empyrean of the ages before the Era of Lore knew the secrets of portal magic, I may hazard a well-educated guess that perhaps Asheron's find was a mere "rediscovery."  It is clear to me that, long ago, far before the Millennium War and far before even the first stirrings of Falatacot malice in the swamps of the world, the Empyrean came here from elsewhere, perhaps much in the way we did...except they came willingly.  Other scholars may accuse me of imaginative fancy, but they assuredly have not seen all that I have.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Nay; this much I know: the Empyrean arrived here many thousands of years ago, with a singular purpose.  What that purpose is, even I can only hazard the most unfounded of guesses.  What is clear, however, is that they forgot this purpose over the long ages.  Some Isparian scholars would claim the same of humanity in general, but I am not in the mood for comparative theological discourse today.
In any case, I find these city corridors somewhat useful for my travels; the portals leading from here frequently seem to take me closer to civilization.


author_Account: prewritten
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It is I, Alatar Locke again, writing in what I call the "Skyway."  It is not a real sky, of course, and the city beneath is sterile and dead.  A tragedy to see what must have once been a thriving city to be now beyond habitation.


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But the instability of the portal magic here is undeniable, as I mention elsewhere.  I suspect the Virindi may have something to do with its present condition; however, I doubt they were the originators of the trouble.  One can see the later Empyrean who lived here - or sought to live here - struggled and ultimately failed to tame the portal magic of this city.  The capricious nature of the portals undoubtedly made this unsuitable for living, for there is not enough energy here to produce adequate food, and the unreliability of the portals would make bringing supplies difficult.


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In fact, the appearance of these portals in the world at large is rapidly growing rarer, and soon I doubt I shall be able to come here again for a long time.  I spoke briefly with Elysa Strathelar yesterday, and the dear lady worried that I might become trapped in this city if I did not leave soon.  I seriously doubt such an accident might befall someone like myself, especially as there seem to be no shortage of portals leading out.  Still, it is clear that I should write these notes today, without delay, lest I not have the opportunity to return and leave my musings for a far distant posterity.


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After all, perhaps some invisible wave or current in portal space might bring these portals back to Dereth.  Who can predict its ways?


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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Greetings, soldiers of Yalain, and welcome to the grottos of Laeraa.

Some of you may have arrived here in the mistaken impression that this post is unimportant, or that your presence here is a sign of disfavor with your respective lords. I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. Your presence here is testament to your loyalty, as is what I am about to tell you.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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No doubt many of you know two of Laeraa's wonders. The first, of course, is the Imperial Archive in the lower levels. The finest researchers in the world have had copies of their treatises and inquiries deposited in our vaults, in the event that we have need of them in the future. There are in excess of 10,000 volumes currently stored here. To have a work elected for inclusion in the Seaborne Empire's various archives is a source of pride for any academic.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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The second wonder of Laeraa  is the system of living grottos, lit and nourished by the works of the great mage Heran of Dalrose. In our underground caverns, nearly any form of plant can be grown. In turn, these plants support a number of animal species. The grottos are Heran's masterwork; you should appreciate them. The first rule of Laeraa is, walk with ranaayai's feet in the grottos. (Translator's note: context indicates "ranaayai" may be a stealthy predator animal of ancient Dereth - name means "inescapable burning.") Do not leave fires unattended, nor uproot the plants, nor slay the animals. Few have the skill to recreate these fragile treasures.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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The final wonder has been carefully kept secret by the masters of the Uranten Lyceum. There are certain entities in the lowest tunnels of this complex. We call them Laerauinth (translator's note: literally, "Living Stones of the Ground"). They are not true life forms as we understand them, although they behave in many of the same ways.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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When a mage attempts and fails to cast a spell, the mana he or she has focused does not simply "go away." Rather, it undergoes what mages commonly refer to as "slippage." (Translator's note: this is an approximate translation - the word used here is also used in Yalaini nautical texts to refer to the unpredictable movement of a fish.) Slippage is misdirected mana, which may be absorbed by the earth, air, or sea. The Laerauinth are the result of slipped mana concentrating in certain sympathetic crystal deposits. In a sense, they are stones animated by the pure force of magic.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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Laerauinth are found all across Auberean. They are extremely rare - perhaps one will be found on the mainland or in the Imperial Archipelago every hundred years. The history of magical research on Ireth Lassel by our people, and the Dericost before us, have resulted in unusual concentrations of them here.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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Early research by the Uranten academics brought to light a most singular fact. The Laerauinth produce eggs. Not in the sense that a bird might, but in that they periodically drop crystalline nodules, containing a portion of their mana, that grow into another of their kind. These growths - eggs, if you will - can be ingested when enchanted properly. They can greatly increase a mage's natural capacity for storing mana. This effect does not last long, however, and there is a critical drawback.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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The enchanted eggs attune themselves to the mana patterns of the bearer, working in resonance with them. This resonance is only dangerous for a week. During that week, the bearer may not handle another egg. Doing so will further resonate with his or her mana patterns, causing a dangerous feedback loop. The end result is that the mage's ability to store and wield mana is completely destroyed. This grievous "burnout" was discovered in the harshest way, forcing the retirement of the famed Master Ucanna.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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The mana that infuses the Laerauinth causes their forms to become somewhat malleable - almost gelatinous. This allows them the flexibility to move themselves about, albeit at a creep. While not intelligent, they can project powerful magical attacks. One of our main tasks here, in addition to protecting the secret of the Uranten Lyceum, will be to help protect the school's younger students while they recover nodules.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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Do not underestimate these creatures. If they have the capacity to desire anything, it is to be left alone in the cool darkness below us. They will fight to protect their "eggs," and even (slowly) follow recovery parties up to the inhabited areas. That is why we have the fortifications on the lower levels, facing downward. There are devils in the dark below us. Phlegmatic devils, but not ones that should be dismissed.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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A final note. Possibly the most infamous feature of these caves is the chamber which lies at hand to the upper watch post. The rumors you may have heard are lamentably true. During the final days of His Majesty Emperor Caerlin's war with the ancient darkness, the Enemy attacked these grottos, seeking to absorb their life into their blasphemous forces. The larger grottos were cleansed through the efforts of Uranten's students, though not without cost. The lowest chambers were adjudged beyond redemption by the Lyceum's masters. It was possible to contain the darkness, to weaken it, but the chambers could not be cleansed.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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When required to pass through the altered chamber, you should take care never to touch the walls or floor with bare skin. At best you will suffer severe injury, and at worst a fate worse than death. Always remember that this chamber was created by the Enemy's Black Breath. The walls are the tortured remains of living beings. They are alive, and hungry.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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While on duty at the upper watchpost, you should never succumb to the urge to sleep. You shall be greatly vexed by the malevolent influence the Enemy has upon the dreaming mind. This is not hyperbole, but sincere admonition. This post's previous commander, Lady Alessae Vosin, lost three chevairds to insanity from the calamitous influence of that accursed chamber.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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Also, though some imagine me to be ignorant, I am aware that certain soldiers here make a habit of bringing small creatures from the upper grottos down to this post, and feeding them to the walls of Shadow Chamber. They imagine it is amusing to watch these poor creatures be liquefied and absorbed into the mass.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
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Always remember that you are chevairds of the Empire, held to high ethical standards. You should not delight in cruelty such as this. That sort of bestiality is precisely what our grandparents fought against in the Shadow War. Should I catch any man or woman at this brutal sport, you will be stripped of your honors and sent home in disgrace.


author_Name: Captain of the Watch
author_Account: prewritten
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Also... feeding the chamber more life will strengthen its power and influence. "Darkness can never be driven from the world, for it is part of the world. It only sleeps, and bides its time. We can but sing a lullaby by the light of a flickering candle, and watch for its wakening." So said Empress Alaidain nearly 8500 years ago.

Do not awaken the chamber with your supposed sport. All the people of Laeraa may pay your tithe.


author_Name: Fazyad ibn Raymar
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To all who wander the empty beauty of the great A'mun, I send greetings.

The young town of Xarabydun seeks those of the 25th level or below to cleanse the vermin from its lower levels. Those who can bring back trophies from these creatures will be well rewarded from the town's coffers.

Interested parties should travel to the town's entrance portal at 16.2E by 41.9S, in the wastes between the towns of Al-Arqas and Khayyaban.

- Fazyad ibn Raymar, Bey of Xarabydun


author_Name: Unknown
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Your counterpart in the Tumideon Fortress recently brought to Our attention a clever strategy to deal with the humans' increasing penchant for assaulting our installations. Given the ineffectiveness of the golden apes and the altered ones, We recognize the need for new war servants, and thus commission the construction of the "hollow minions" your counterpart proposed. These hollow minions are to be constructed of the new anti-magical ore, recently unearthed by the grey giants.


author_Name: Unknown
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Thus the hollow minions will be resistant to the humans' primitive sorceries and will be able to defeat their magical protections. You will construct them in the form of the "scarecrow" creatures which hail from the humans' distant home. In this guise they will be able to infiltrate the eastern half of the island we share. We await your compliance and expect to hear soon of your success in the implementation of Our directive. 


--First Among Equals


author_Name: Unknown
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We have received your proposal for the construction of new servitors. We agree that it is preferable to create Our own soldiers rather than to rely on the inferior creatures of this realm. We share your frustration in the shortcomings of the golden apes and the alteration of the squealing bipeds. We feel that the idea to utilize the newly discovered ore is an inspired one, given the humans' reliance on their crude but effective magic.


author_Name: Unknown
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Hopefully your "hollow minion" soldiers will provide more reliable security than we have had in the past. Do make sure to construct them in the image of these "scarecrows" that have recently appeared on the island. Our agents report that the humans are familiar with the scarecrows, sharing a home world with them. In this disguise the hollow minions may infiltrate the eastern half of the island in much the same way that our agent has infiltrated the new human settlement on the western shore. We expect to hear of your success in the coming days.

--First Among Equals


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To whomever may find this, please give to Olivier Rognath.  The last I saw of him, he resided in Eastham:

I do not know how much time I have.   The Mosswart guards are agitated, although they seem to be ignoring me for now.  The din of the battle below is constant and loud.  And it is getting closer.  I had never seen Banderlings and Mosswarts fighting amongst themselves before today, and I had never heard of such instances in the Society meetings.  It will be a good story to tell when I get back.  And it will be a "when," not if,  in this strange world.


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Who could have imagined a world in which death is no longer the end of one's thoughts and experiences but merely a temporary stage in between?  Unless, one day, it changes...but useless for me to think of that now.

I had journeyed to this Mosswart stronghold to observe what I could of their lives and habits.  The Society had heard rumors of some bands of Mosswarts heading westwards, but these had remained as yet unconfirmed.


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Sir Alayne had sent me to a relatively new Mosswart outpost to take notes on general Mosswart life, and to see if I could verify whether there were any sort of organized movement amongst the creatures, and if so, why.

The Society has made some progress in communicating with other races that have been whisked away to Dereth, but the Mosswarts remain mostly opaque to us.  All attempts at civilized contact have resulted in casualties for one side or the other.


author_Account: prewritten
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So I endeavored to be as stealthy and inconspicuous as possible as I closed in on the camp teaming with Mosswart life.  It was no small feat as the swamp seemed a living thing, intent on invading and festering  underneath my clothes.  I was covered in muck and mire, every step I made was swallowed by the grasping wet ground, and I stank of things wet and rotting.  At first I thought this would help me, as visually I blended into my surroundings, and the mud softened my footfalls. 


author_Account: prewritten
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A note to my fellow Society members:  Mosswarts possess an excellent sense of smell.

Much to my surprise, they did not kill me.  I was prepared to take a few of these creatures with me, but before I had time to react, I had been disarmed and surrounded by their long spears.  Seeing as how the spears made no further encroachment upon my neck, I was content to remain unaggressive, though very afraid.  A strange reaction.  What am I afraid of?


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While I have not yet suffered a death in Dereth, by all accounts I will be reborn and renewed.  And yet the fear remained, cold and implacable, as if it knew that the immortality offered by Dereth is merely dew on the morning grass, seemingly real for a short time and then gone as if it had never been  ( The howling and clash of metal is right outside the walls now.  My guards have left to join the fighting outside).  But I digress.  Again.


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I tried communicating with my captors, but neither my language or my attempts to imitate their growling and grunting made any noticeable impact.  I had scarcely had time  to consider the implausibility of my situation when a large group of Banderlings burst upon the scene, all of them clutching maces or clubs.  They did not look very friendly.  The Mosswarts reacted in kind.


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The Mosswart Chieftain barked an order to two of his guardsmen, and I found myself being roughly manhandled through a portal to the entrance of the Mosswart Dungeon, and then down a long series of corridors until finally we came to this damp stone cell.  And here I have sat, waiting and writing as the sounds of the battle have come ever closer.  There has been silence for the last few minutes, but now there is something moving outside the door.  I could stand and open it, but I think I shall sit here and await whomever my next visitor will be.


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Sir Candeth Martine 

Now truly I have not much time.  I've escaped my captors, but only for the briefest of  times.  The Mosswarts won, barely.  But new Banderling troops are approaching  fast.  Hordes of them.  I don't know where they are taking me, but the creeping Mosswart scouts have been moving west.  The door is  [The writing stops abruptly, and there is no more.]


author_Account: prewritten
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To whomever may find this:

If I am addressing a reader of my previous note, then I must heartily apologize for the uncertain state of affairs I left you in leagues away in a small dungeon many miles west of Sawato..  I hope you will understand that I had to let the demands of the moment outweigh the normal priorities of civilized discourse. 


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Having hundreds of Banderlings running towards you, waving large and heavy objects menacingly in your direction, while at the same time being surrounded by only slightly more friendly Mosswarts, many of whom are holding long pointed sticks close to delicate parts of your body, and then adding to this:  you and your Mosswart companions (Indeed, it is a forced companionship, but I look for whatever signs of civility as I can) are sprinting away from these bloodthirsty Banderlings, none of this makes for a composed and fit state of mind capable of producing the tone of writing of which I would normally attempt.


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For all you readers who may have not had the pleasure of reading my previous small travelogue, a pithy recap follows:  I was captured by a group of Mosswarts.  We were then set upon a group of Banderlings intent on doing us harm.  The Mosswarts apparently managed to kill  the attacking Banderlings, although at grievous harm to themselves.  I had thought everything had quieted down, when a new and even larger group of Banderlings were sighted to the east of us and approaching us fast.  The Mosswart leader immediately shouted out a string of orders,


author_Account: prewritten
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and I noticed a sizeable contingent of some of the smaller Mosswarts making their way west individually in small groups.  Being temporarily an object of no one's attention, I used this time to sprint into the dungeon portal, where I made my way to my holding cell, where I had left my note for some brave adventurer to find and get back into the hands of the Society.  I quickly added most of my postscript before two of the more ferocious Mosswart guards burst into the room and absconded with me once more.


author_Account: prewritten
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Trust me, it felt as frenetic as it sounds.  At least my note remains back in the old Mosswart Dungeon.  Unless a Banderling ate it.

West and west the Mosswarts and I  headed, through swamp and forest and then surrounded by mountainous peaks as we crept and snuck and ran through the deep brown valleys.  Running.  Always running.  I had liked to think that I was in a shape befitting an active Explorer of the Society.  These Mosswarts disabused me of that notion.


author_Account: prewritten
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The near constant physical exertion, almost to the point of exhaustion,  left me unable to truly ponder the circumstances of recent events. 

It was only when we reached the desert that I was able to turn my attention to what had been transpiring.  We had finally either lost our Banderling pursuers or they had given up.  Here was the first issue of note.  In all of my wanderings in Dereth, never had I seen Banderlings pursue their quarry for such a long distance or period of time.


author_Account: prewritten
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Many hours and miles passed beneath our feet, and yet step for step was matched by our pursuers for most of the way.  What desire lurked beneath those misshapen bodies to fuel such effort?

And why such enmity in the first place?  Never had I heard of such interspecies conflict before.  While I had heard the same rumors as most of the Society that the Banderlings and Mosswarts had come from the same place before they were transported here, rumors so widely spoken that almost all assumed they were true, I never considered that perhaps they were mortal enemies back in that long distant 


author_Account: prewritten
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homeland.  And yet if they did have such bloodlust towards each other, would we not have seen it before this?

It was only when we reached the Maze that some of these answers began to take shape.  How to describe this miserable place?  When I was a boy, long before I could have ever have dreamed of being whisked away to a strange time and place, bereft of most whom I loved and cared for...again, I apologize, such moments occasionally overcome me.  I'll speak no more of it.


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When I was a boy, I used to play with certain types of puzzles, long drawn out maps of lines, written on parchment, arranged in such a way that it was almost impossible to figure out how to traverse from beginning to end of the labyrinth.  When I was a boy I think I had some skill in such matters.  I wish I was that boy again.

I can make neither north nor south of this hell.  Twisty curves leading back upon one another up 


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and down turning round and round  like an inscrutable sentence with neither beginning nor ending that makes its readers cry out in agony to end the pain, the interminable pain.  That is the essence of this Maze.  Luckily, my party does not rely upon me for guidance through the dungeon.  Not only do Mosswarts have a superb sense of smell, but apparently they do not have to rely on any of the known senses of man to find their way through madness.  At least this is how it seems to me.


author_Account: prewritten
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But I talked of answers, not so long ago, and while I know nothing for sure, here is what I can guess.  When we came to the Maze, I was surprised to see that there was already a small party of Mosswarts waiting for us.  And they were holding a huge rock.  What this rock's purpose is, or where it had come from I had no idea.  But when our groups combined the Mosswarts held up the rock in triumph, even though it took ten of them to do it.  And those Mosswarts who had taken Banderling scalps now threw them up in the air, and there was much shouting and rejoicing.


author_Account: prewritten
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Afterwards, the Mosswart leader then drew out of his pack a large piece of strangely colored green cloth.  It glistened in the sun, as if covered by some oily substance.  Upon the cloth was a faint image of a Mosswart.  As he brought it out the Mosswarts turned immediately silent, and bowed in the direction of the cloth.  He then proceeded to put it back in his pack, and the entire group proceeded to enter the Maze. 

Obviously the cloth is some kind of token for these Mosswarts, of what kind I could not say. But it has apparently immense importance for them. 


author_Account: prewritten
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Perhaps the rock has some sort of similar importance for the Banderlings.  I wish I knew more about them, but if you receive this note than please try to find a Olivier  Rognath, who resides in Eastham, on the eastern coast of Dereth.  While he is not a full fledged Explorer in the Society, he has been a close ally to our purposes.  He is also far more knowledgeable about Banderlings than I am, although of course even experts on our new neighbors know little.


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But if you find this note, and its brother, please journey there to see him.  Maybe he can shed some light on what has been transpiring here.  

Olivier -- My own idle speculations lead me to believe that some kind of religious conflict or worse is taking place among these two cousin races.  How or why it started I have no idea, and how it ties into these random rumors of Mosswarts moving west I remain likewise in the dark.


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Please forward this to the Society as soon as possible.  I look forward to sitting in front of a fireplace telling you these harrowing stories in person.

Sincerely,

Sir Candeth Martine


author_Account: prewritten
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And yet another impromptu addition: We are moving again.  Apparently some of the Mosswarts had been moving the stone into the deepest caverns of the Maze when they were set upon by forces unknown and unseen.  When we came across their mangled and shredded bodies the stone was nowhere to be found.  I have been thrown into another cell, watched over by two guards, but they have not interrupted my writing.  Hearing all the commotion outside, I have decided to guess they are making preparations to leave.  I assume I will be a part of that process.


author_Account: prewritten
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It is I, Alatar Locke.  We meet again, here in the dwelling place of an Empyrean man or woman after my own heart: a scholar, historian, and archaeologist.  See the delicate samples this scholar so painstakingly collected and which now grace this apartment.  Note how some of the rooms have been carefully worked to reflect older styles of Empyrean architecture, some of which may be found within the Floating City itself.  Ah, a true devotee of history and learning!


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What interesting conversations we could have had, had we been contemporaries.  Perhaps we could have discussed the rise and fall of the Ice Throne while seated upon the aged stone furniture of the living room.  But I digress... alas, a true explorer of my caliber must so often work alone and unaided by none but Providence, and the solitude may at last be affecting my mind....


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Speaking of solitude -- how much our scholar friend must have rued the abandonment of this city.  I imagine the decline of the city came slowly at first, but then, as conditions worsened, the majority chose to leave in a great exodus; but a few stubborn ones remained behind, tied by their bonds of familiarity to their homes.  Our friend the scholar was, of course, one of the most stubborn: too proud of this museum-apartment to abandon it, and perhaps too confident to believe the warnings.


author_Account: prewritten
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So it was that our hero or heroine appeared to have been hosting a small party when the last evacuation orders came.  Did our scholar escape?  Was our dear scholar one of the ones who, trapped within this city by the fickle vagrancies of portal space, turned at last to the arcane arts of necromancy in a desperate bid to survive?


author_Account: prewritten
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Surely what happened was the portals out of the city failed to appear for a very long time - longer than food stores or magic could sustain.  Whatever magic they had could not get them out.  Yet, they must have known that someday the portals might return; the dilemma they faced then was to wait with hope, knowing death might be the result,  or to act in desperation.


author_Account: prewritten
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Even my lonely wanderings cannot compare to such despair, or to such rash disregard for the release of death.  I wonder: do they regret their actions?  Surely it would be better to pass through death's gateway and to face the awakening of the other side, than to linger on in a dead city for a time just a little shorter than eternity.


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Of course, it is I, Alatar Locke, jotting down this absurdly brief note for unknown posterity.  I am moved to write by the remains of this once-bustling pub.  The remains of containers and bottles tell me the food and drink here came from around Auberean; the best of everything came here: fruit, meat, cheese,  fine teas, distilled spirits.


author_Account: prewritten
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Aside from the bothersome undead who seem tied to the kitchen area, I find the furthest recesses of this place a quiet place to come sit, think, and relax.  The furnishings and artwork there are tastefully modeled after older themes and designs (perhaps with help from a certain well-learned scholar from elsewhere in the City), and that brings the depth and sweetly melancholic atmosphere of ancient history.  But more than that, perhaps I sense around me the faint echoes of Empyrean presences; it is as if I can hear their voices even now....


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
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Life has strange rhythms, especially in our new world. I recently took up a new hobby to fill my leisure time between experiments in alchemy and metallurgy. I began dabbling in the field of geomancy: the study of the land's magical energies. Little did I know that my amateur interest would become so central to my research so quickly! 
(more)


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
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The first task I took on in my studies of earth magic was to trace the ley lines around the island. With help from some adventurer friends, I attempted to map the lines around the Gharu'ndim lands. At first my efforts met with frustration, because the lines seemed to move from day to day! I blamed it on my own inexperience and, I must confess, even placed some blame on my equipment, which had been forged for me by my Sho colleague, Gondo Kanezo.
(more)


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
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Finally, as I nursed a cup of hot chocolate one night, miserable and discouraged, I realized that the variations in my readings were consistent-in short, the lines moved the same distance every day! I traced over my maps and made projections of their movement, and found that the ley lines were curving south and east from my position, and seemed to converge somewhere in the Linvak range.
(more)


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
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When I headed into the mountains to investigate, theodolite at the ready, I traced the converging lines to a group of crystal outcroppings. These crystals had no place there! Most tellingly, I could feel in my very teeth and bones the sheer magical force contained in the earth beneath my feet. In further explorations of the Linvaks, I also found two new menhir rings where there had been no such formations before. I marked those locations on my map and began an island-wide journey, cataloguing all the ley lines and tracing their movement.
(more)


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
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I found that the ley lines were slowly moving together, with points of intersection in three different areas: in the north mountains, near Mt. Esper; in the Obsidian Plains, to the north side of the great crater; and in the aforementioned site in the Linvak range. The formations were consistent in all three locations: a formation of crystal rising from the ground, and nearby, freshly unearthed menhir rings. I dispatched notes to sages Aliester and Gondo and continued my research.
(more)


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
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Events came to a head some time after I sent those messages. I understand that portals opened up, one after the other, in the midst of the crystal outcroppings. They led to great, sprawling underground structures that the loremasters have referred to as Fenmalain, Caulnalain, and Shendolain. It is evident from later developments that these three complexes were the repositories of three great crystals, similar to the Great Work of Frore and the Nexus Crystal. 
(more)


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
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In all three cases, hasty adventurers, blind to the possible consequences, fought their way past whatever forces had gathered to guard the halls and shattered the crystals found within. The death of these crystals, if my investigations are correct, triggered the release of magical energy all over Dereth, opening portals at the new menhir rings. These portals led to other underground complexes, holding crystal fragments similar to the ones that occasionally menace the landscape.


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
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What seized my interest was that each of the six menhir ring excavations had a unique but geomantically significant shape. Their hallways and pathways curved in such a way as to describe six arcane sigils, the significance of which still escapes me. They are not recognizable as parts of any of the old Empyrean languages. I have sent copies of the sigils to Aliester and Gondo, and they are bending their minds to decipher these shapes as well.


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
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Most compelling, however, is what we found inside the underground complexes. By now it is fairly evident that the three crystals destroyed in Fenmalain, Caulnalain, and Shendolain were part of the crystal array imprisoning the soul of the semi-legendary figure known as Bael'Zharon. My analysis of the energies the crystals released even leads me to believe that the three crystals formed the core of the array, and were intimately attuned to geomantic energy.


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The most strongly defended, Shendolain, was occupied by the greatest undead and powerful servants of the Empyrean. Fenmalain was lightly defended because a force of shadows had invaded it first and tried to rout out the undead defenders, weakening both forces before the arrival of human raiders. Most surprisingly, Caulnalain was guarded by what appeared to be a renegade faction of shadows. We have always assumed that the shadows wished to break the crystals; why, then, were these shadows trying to defend the crystal?


author_Name: Zarea bint Zia
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
These are puzzles for another time. I am tired from my travels and I am seeing spots from staring too long into the theodolite. I will continue my investigations after a cup of chocolate and a long, long nap.


author_Name: Diyas al-Yat
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
With a bang so hard the lifestone shudders


author_Name: Lady Adja
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Gentle sister, my decisions have never been what I would, but what must be.

I have touched the silvered shades of what lies yet unseen in search of guidance. I have found that your child has a great destiny he must yet fulfill. It will not wear easily on him. Nor, I fear, shall it pass lightly on our long-suffering world, or for a generation of children born far beyond the fields we know. All shall be broken before it is accomplished. Yet this is what must be. Light moves in fashions we cannot fathom. We can simply trust.


author_Name: Lady Adja
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I shall do as you ask. Expect me in your chambers after our first dinner at the Lyceum.

Blessed be, Adja.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
* *

I am troubled this day. Due to the meddling of the outlanders, the fate of all the world hangs from the slender thread of a single crystal. Lady Elleina's loss in Shendolain was perhaps a blessing, though it cost us many of Aerfalle's valuable rock-boned troops. Elleina was a liability, unreliable and vain. She wrote me daily demanding chyle wine. Pfah! As if we were in the halls of Gelid rather than engaged in a desperate campaign.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The decimation of Lord Ghere's company in Fenmalain was an unqualified debacle. I can no longer divide my forces. I have not enough men to squander them piecemeal. Despite what Aerfalle would tell the Lords to keep them in the fray, Dericost is on its last legs. I do not think their society will survive this war with the Herald. It was with that in mind that I sent out the envoys, in hopes of reaching some temporary accord. Fortunately, the Dericost are not the only ones who seem to find the Herald a menace to their goals.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Asmolum's divinations brought us the location of the final piece of the Array. Fortuitously enough, it was near at hand. However, my forces were prepared to move on should the Enemy appear, not defend the ground. This field of combat is not one I would have chosen.

I have set my main perimeter at the northern coast of Itheanc. My forces have knocked down the bridge that led from Avallel island, but that is a poor defense. The water itself remains fordable. I have sent forces to garrison the small fortress there, and have set them to construct defensive walls.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have set patrols to the other islands - Mirenndae in the north and Thesalene in the center - so we might have advanced warning of the Enemy's approach. I do not dare men as far as Laesvos. There is a small settlement of outlanders there, more barbaric than those on the mainland. They seem to have been cut off from their fellows. It is somewhat amusing to see how debased they become in just a few years, when they say we are the monsters. I serve a society that has been dead for ten millennia. They cannot maintain their culture for a mere ten years. Quite unimpressive.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At any rate, I fear some of my troops have already made a nuisance of themselves for no purpose. They have taken to assaulting the primitive green hominids that have settled across the Ithaenc archipelago. These creatures are harmless enough, worshipping their simple idols. Yet some, particularly among the Winds, believe it is heresy to let them worship in the same lands the Children walk. I dare not let these sorts anywhere near the human settlement.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Heresy." How casually the Dericost cast the words into the air. They still call the Adja and her priestesses "traitors to Dericost," despite the fact that those women were born long after the Ice Throne fell. The Dericost have long memories and an odd opinion of duty. If my tribe still wandered the High Desert, following where Isishaa led, no doubt they would claim their blood belongs to them. I expect that if I had had children, they would consider them bound by my oath as well.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We have been able to gain control over a pair of the old Yalaini skytowers. They are useful enough on the defense, serving as mobile keeps. I wish I had more than archers and mages to garrison them with. A mana bombard or even a simple cauldron of boiling oil would be a gift from the four winds. Needs must. I have stationed one of the skytowers on the north shore. The other remains here in reserve.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Aerfalle's contingent from Aerlinthe have set up their camp to the west of me, near the Straits of Halleslyn. It was they who first discovered the Children. Perhaps "camp" is not the best word for their gathering. They refuse to set up tents or light fires, for fear it may give away their position. Ah, the foibles of the Winds. Ever do they scurry before the winking light of day, as if they were carrion insects rather than beings of might.

I have not yet had the time to visit the cathedral personally. Perhaps I shall tomorrow.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
* *

I went to Aerfalle's camp to confer with her today. I am a bit worried about the behavior of the Winds. Many of them kneel before the marshy pond, in rapt contemplation of their gods. Or the offspring of their gods, at least. I remain unconvinced.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Aerfalle explained that in the old Falatacot scriptures, the Great Ones did not die, but went to sleep in their mires. It was said that "When soon the stars align, and dim from darkness' time, then shall those who names may not be spoken, birth anew the childer, and be again awoken." Doggerel, in my opinion. The meter is forced; the words needlessly opaque. There is nothing worse than a seer who imagines herself to be a poet.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Winds believe the tentacled creatures are the spawn of the Great Ones. Aerfalle spoke vaguely about the appearance of the Falatacot gods. She was one of perhaps a dozen remaining who saw one, during His Eternal Splendor's first trip to Killiakta. That, she said, was when they became the first to walk into eternity. The Great One they saw was supposedly the last awake. 


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
They did not see much beyond a great writhing mass of tentacles, "a vast field of them, rising glistening from the mire," she said, "some as thick as larchess trunks." She conjectured that the creature beneath the water might have been the size of the volcano Tenkarrdun. If such is true, the creatures boiling beneath the water and soft earth here must be mere infants. She seemed unwilling to speak further, and I did not press her.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Lady, at least, remains unmoved by the Children. I have seen her stare out at the waving tentacles, arms folded across her chest, and looking skeptical. For a Wind, she is uncommonly practical. This is a good thing in a leader. Too many of the Dericost have their brains half-wrapped in cobwebs and mysticism.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
* *

Today I walked among the poor stones of the cathedral. I paced and pondered where the Lady taught and wrote her letters. It was, in the end, humbling to enter the room where she wrote the Book of Sky and Water, where she meditated on the au. (Translator's note: "Au" is a Yalaini word which means light, star, thought, or self. Context provides me small clue as to which Anadil means.) I sat beside the well she used to drink from. I marveled at her great and lofty halls, where great choirs once lifted their voices in a song to stars and earth united.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The stones were battered by the force of men and years. The glorious spires were snapped and crumbled. The serene magnificence of yesteryear had flown. Across the falls, I sat in the place where Lady Kathendi was put to the stake. No grass grows there. It was rumored among the Yalain that if one sat still for long enough in that place, the Lady could yet be heard upon her pyre. I did not hear her; perhaps a legend after all. In the cellar, there still lay the defiled bodies of her retainers, tortured and worse before they were slain by the victorious hoard.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is a marvel to me the sins the Yalain committed in service to their great lights. I cannot understand the belief that an evil done to one who does not believe as you is less an evil in the eyes of those who see into our souls.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
If you wish to have power over earth and sea, so be it. Be honest about your goal. Do not seek it through duplicity and doubletalk. My father taught me at the council fire that all our gods demand of us is honesty - all other judgements are those of men. The Nali of Haebrous claimed that Adja's daughters were tainted by the beliefs of the Falatacot. He said their accordance of equal respect to the earth as well as the stars was heretical. What he truly sought was the silencing of a voice other than his own, in a war for the hearts of men. In this, I think, he was the greatest sinner of his time. Men may claim the earth and sea, yet never the stars nor the souls of their brothers.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have come to believe Caerlin made the right choice in entrusting the last piece of the Array to the safekeeping of Adja's daughters. In the end, they were the last constant people on the face of this world. Though Nali Valind's followers sought long for the Shard, they sought it to glorify themselves. They wished to boast of protecting it, not actually protect it. It is well that Lady Sephrena hid it so carefully, using the ancient and cunning arts of the Falatacot.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
But the Dericost know those selfsame arts. For the Falatacot, in their flight from the Darkness and cold that had put their gods to sleep, taught the kings of the Ice Throne their secrets in exchange for sanctuary. Aerfalle and Rytheran found the Path quite quickly.

I walked among the blackened, fateful stones, and thought these things. All roads seem to converge on this island. The letters Asmolum have recovered certainly prove that. I do hope he returns them to the Mistress' strongbox.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The flowers still grew in wild abundance, even through the shattered stones. The air was filled with the hum of insects, the tinkling of chimes, and drifting clouds of pollen. For this place was beloved of nature, and she would not let her daughters' faithful work lie unadorned.

I seem to be becoming more spiritual in my days here. I know not if this is due to the quality the sisters left upon their home, or a simple man's response to living among great days.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
* *

Asmolum's agents have sighted a Thorn approaching from the northeast, and Paanuvriliim have been encountered on Avallel. It is as I feared. The Enemy has found the last piece of the Yalaini council's array. It would seem the subtle cloaks laid across this place by the Adjanites have failed at last.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There will be many good warriors lost in the coming days, some who have rallied around my banner for twelve thousand years. We will fight mightily and with honor, for once again, all depends on us. I will not let this army down. No, I will not. I will fight beside them at every turn. To lose here may be the end of everything. The Shard must be kept intact.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Still there is no word from my envoys to those that walk between the winds. They have power enough to accomplish my plan, if only they make haste. They seem to be growing concerned. Aerfalle has told me they maintain large numbers of observers on her isle.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
* *

I have been checked.

Aerfalle recovered the key to the catacombs when we arrived here. To prevent the Enemy from regaining it, I broke it into three pieces and gave one to each of the army commanders. However, it would seem we have an agent of the Enemy in our midst. Kelderam's Path has been somehow corrupted, right under the eaves of my own tents. The way is now only open to those who have knelt before the Herald. Naturally, that includes none of my forces.


author_Name: Anadil of Shakrassekor
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Perhaps this is for the better. The outlanders who oppose the Herald may now be able to resist those who seek his release in direct combat beneath the cathedral. For once, they may be able to prevent a disaster rather than be its cause.


author_Name: Lady Maila
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Dearest Adja,

I have packed my books and letters. The palace seems quite dim now. Most of our chevairds are holding the shores of Tentael - Caerlin refuses to abandon his home, even as his arm boils away. I have heard that his night-howls may be heard as far as Imperial Square. My students are abroad, still laboring desperately at the forge. There are only a handful left, and they are spending this night preparing for the voyage. There is no need for the halls to be lit, so I have kindled the fire here alone in Atlan's study. I have left the window open. Beyond the shadowed garden, I can see the torches that


author_Name: Lady Maila
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
light the decks of the Aerynd.

My garden. You would weep to see it now, shriveled by an early hoarfrost and sick with the influence of the Enemy. I cut the season's last demsael blossom yesterday, as you taught me, and it cried out in pain. I dropped it in horror, and Captain Tenosh put his smoldering sword to it. The stem of the flower moaned and rustled as it burned, and so he proceeded to burn half the flowerbeds.


author_Name: Lady Maila
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I shall send you this message by my fastest skyship, and hope it reaches Ithaenc before you leave for the Lyceum. We all know that even should Palacost ignore us utterly in the final moments, none shall survive the final casting. That is a price we have accepted. I have no cause to grieve. My life has been long, and for the most part well-spent. And I miss Atlan. I look forward to seeing him, even should I not know him, when the watchful stars turn round once more. Yet, I must ask a great boon of you, if it be within your will and ability. I ask that a life be spared from among our group.


author_Name: Lady Maila
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
You have spoken, reluctantly, I know, of the arts your mother and hers taught you as a child: those forbidden ways to extend life that corrupted old Dericost. But you also said there were ways taught and practiced under stars less bleak - ways which do not greedily seek to stall the hunting eye of time across the length of its domain. The blood that courses through your line could protect and prolong for many circles of the world without casting aside the pangs and joys of mortality. You told me once your grandmother, when a girl herself, fled the captivity of the Ice Throne. Later she told blessed Alaidain of the secret ways through the deeps of Vasmora under Gelid.


author_Name: Lady Maila
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I am conscious of the price these arts demand. To preserve a life, a life must always be taken in forfeit. If it is given freely, you said, the result is not tainted by the ones whose names cannot be spoken. The life I would sacrifice shall be mine own. I agreed to lay it down to bring an end to Palacost's endless rage. I shall. But should there be a way, I would have my last breath of this world mean still more. What mother could stand by and watch her child die without seeking as I do?


author_Name: Lady Maila
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Adja, I beg you, who have called me sister for ten score years, to aid me. I will lay down my life to save my boy. I have ALWAYS been willing to do so. Asheron is all I hold dear, and all I have left of Atlan. Will you help me?

                                       Maila


author_Name: The Fivefold Curse
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As we were sent by the Darkness
The Darkness shall send again
An avenging star
A light to bring darkness
The Darkness shall send then
A knowledge:
A power to bring destruction
For Alaidain's blood shall be
The death of the people
And then Darkness shall send yet again
And once more, and the Darkness shall win


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is difficult to remember the circumstances of our escape from the Olthoi horde, many years ago. The initial rush out of the caves was a night of chaos. It was only the strong, stable presence of our leaders, the Aluvian cousins MacDugal and MacNiall, that kept our small band together that perilous night. A few individuals were left behind or struck out on their own. The cries of pain we heard were enough to convince us to stay together. Only when we were out of the mountains and in the forests, the scrabbling and skittering sounds of Olthoi pursuit absent, that we stopped to rest and breathe free.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It was then that we saw the portal in the distance, in the mountains from which we had just fled. The portal wavered, showing signs of instability. MacNiall wanted to take the portal and see what was on the other side. MacDugal was plainly skeptical of the portal, reminding us all that it was a shifty portal that had originally gotten us into years of Olthoi slavery. The two of them argued for some time, with the rest of us voicing our support for one or the other. I suppose the commotion our argument caused attracted the attention of the Olthoi. A group of Olthoi soldiers fell upon us.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In our surprise, we were unable to meet the attack and a few more brothers and sisters fell under their claws. In the chaos, MacNiall called out for people to rally to him as he ran for the portal. MacDugal, for his part, gathered some people as he ran for the foothills. I and several others followed MacNiall through the portal. What became of MacDugal, I cannot say. I can only hope that he and my friend Shi Ki-Yong and even the abrasive Jourgensson found a safe refuge in the foothills.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I don't know what we expected to find when we came out of the portal. Certainly not this isolated tropical archipelago. As soon as we were assembled and had had some time to rest, MacNiall set us about exploring the surrounding land. We were unable to locate any portals to the mainland, but we found another band of refugees fleeing the Olthoi. They were led by Zenzaburou Hensu and Vesayen Hylin. Obviously it made sense to pool our efforts to settle together on the island, especially after our scouting efforts revealed the presence of many hostile creatures, unknown to the experience of any.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Unfortunately our attempt at a shared settlement failed. Zenzaburou and Vesayen insisted on strict submission to the tenets of Jojiism and the Code of Pwyll, which most of us under MacNiall found impractical and unnecessary. Arguments raged day and night, and finally MacNiall decided that he could no longer live with the traditionalists and their unthinking adherence to outdated moral codes. We, who had been with MacNiall since our escape from the caves, went with him to settle elsewhere. We took with us our rightful share of supplies and set out, weapons at the ready for whatever came our way.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We made our way to this small island, ideal for our purposes. It is defensible and isolated from most of the creatures that plague the rest of the islands. The first days of our time here were difficult, and we lost a few more brothers and sisters in arms to the claws and spells of creatures, most notably the uniquely malodorous Moarsmen and the legions of powerful undead on the island farthest east. But through all our challenges, we have survived and thrived. More importantly, we never surrendered our principles under the pressure of the traditionalists.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
If one travels throughout the archipelago we have named the Vesayen Isles, one might notice the strange behavior of the Mosswarts. One would think that they would be unified in their hatred of other creatures, but they seem to be split in two distinct factions. One never sees the two types together, unless they are fighting each other. The factions can be easily told apart. The greyish-black Mosswarts seem less individually powerful but better-organized than their green and brown cousins. The organized grey Mosswarts seem fanatically devoted to malevolent stone idols found scattered about several of the northwest islands.


author_Name: Onda Nakoza
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Out in the jungle, somewhere between MacNiall's Freehold and the weaklings' settlement, there is a cave guarded by idol-worshipping Mosswarts. If one can fight past them, there resides in the cave's deep reaches a tame, intelligent Mosswart who calls himself Rumuba. It is difficult to understand what the little creature says, but he seems to be at odds with his brethren and may be seeking the aid of humans.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
If you are reading this, then there is still hope.

Perhaps.  It still may be too late.  What they have planned...what they are still planning...the loss of blood makes it hard for me to concentrate.  

Who knew that there would be things to fear in a world where death takes no one?

I would find the naivete of the innocent amusing, were I still innocent.  But the road to experience is the destiny of all, especially in Dereth.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Who am I?  Where did I come from?  They cannot take away my very identity, can they?  I am still...I have always been...

My name is Sir Candeth Martine.  I think.  Most of the time.

A few weeks I ago I had resolved to talk about my past on Ispar, to inscribe my story in a text more permanent than the apparently flimsy human mind.  But I soon forgot to write it down.  And now I can no more recall my Isparian past than I could recall what life was like in my mother's womb.  It is gone.  


author_Account: prewritten
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What about my life in Dereth?  If I am Candeth Martine, surely there should be something that I can remember, some constant that I can point to, and say "There.  There is the proof.  I am Candeth Martine.  You cannot doubt it any longer."

.........


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I have regained some lucidity.  At least for now.  So I will write quickly.  I have kept the above in this letter, to let the reader know what I am facing.  Indeed, I may have written other missives that you have come across, that I no longer remember having written.  If so, I apologize for my rudeness in not treating you as cordially as you deserve.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
I am Candeth Martine.  I have been an outcast from my homeworld for some time now.  I used to know how long.  Through some uncommon good fortune, I was able to discover a Society that had sprouted up on this alien world.  My fellow members of the Society and myself resolved to explore and discover this new world, to learn the secrets of its flora and fauna, and be able to share this knowledge with ourselves and our fellow lost Isparians.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It was through a mission given to me by the Society that I came upon a large group of Mosswarts.  I think I have related some of those past events in another letter, but even if I haven't, I can barely remember them myself, and I can only hope the attentive reader knows that of which I speak.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
What I do remember with any certainty is this:  The Mosswart Chieftain (the closest I can make out his native name is Arg Marg.  This may be a title instead of a name.  It is ironic to me that I have been given an opportunity to spend more time with the Mosswarts than I ever thought possible, and yet their language remains opaque to me.  And considering what they gave me when I asked for food, the reverse seems true as well.  But I digress.  I am sometimes prone to digression) along with a cadre of his largest warriors absconded with me and their apparently sacred Mosswart shroud.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
We made our way through the endless sands in darkness.  I was cold, hungry and exhausted.  I had not been able to enjoy any taste of freedom for many days.  I could not recall a time since I had arrived in Dereth where I had been so close to the point of complete physical and mental collapse.  

I was foolish not to be able to enjoy paradise when I saw it.  It is only now that I know what Hell is.

.........


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust the Virindi.  Do not trust
.........


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Is it possible that we here in Dereth have lost our sense of smell?  I have heard from many of my friends and colleagues about the mass Tusker slaughters that go on throughout the land.  Hours are spent reveling in the blood and guts of these huge beasts.  How can humans stand it?  After spending some time with Tuskers who managed to keep their blood and guts on the inside for the duration of the visit, I cannot comprehend how much worse their stench can get.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is easier for me if I focus on the Tuskers.  The other minions are...too much like their masters.  

Why were the Mosswarts meeting with the...the...those things?  If only I could decipher what was said.  The portal was opened, Arg Marg stepped through along with his bodyguards and the shroud.  They were obviously very happy when the portal was created.  Even happier to step through.  I had thought they might at least try and say goodbye.  At the time I wondered what the Mosswarts had to exchange in return for such obvious favors.  The idea that I was the trade had never occurred to me.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
.........
Mosswarts fighting for the Shadows.  Mosswarts fighting for the Undead.  Mosswarts cooperating with the...things.  What sense does all this make?  Mosswart Idols littering the landscape of this exotic new island.  Does the Society know about this place?  Do I even care?  Please find me.  Please release me.  I'll say what you want me to say.  I promise.  Just stop.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
.........
The Virindi are our friends.  The Virindi are our friends.  The Virindi are our friends.  The Virindi are our friends.  The Virindi are our friends.  The Virindi are our friends.  The Virindi are our friends.


author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
.........
More portals.  Where are they taking me to this time?  They are ignoring the note.  Are they even aware it exists?  They know I exist.  Do I exist?  Who am I?  I wish they would stop hurting this Candeth Martine.  His cries are keeping me up at night.  It would be easier if I could sleep.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
                         The History of Kryst by
                         Natalie the Scribe     


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Kryst has a long and rich background that is rooted in hope.  It was founded by Zenzaburou Hensu after the tribulations of the Olthoi.  During the Dark times, when all of the children of Ispar were slaves made to toil under the heavy yoke of Olthoi oppression, there truly was no hope of overcoming our taskmasters.  So, Zenzaburou Vanten the Archmage (note: then the Quick.  How times change...), and Vesayen Hylin gathered together to plan.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It was during these times that the hope within our hearts was the most fragile.  The Olthoi were capable of anticipating the actions of any slave with crystalline clarity, and had foiled many different escape attempts by coordinating their movements as if guided by one mind.  It seemed as if all the things that Zenzaburou had talked about would never come to fruition when a strange earthquake occurred.  After the rocks had finished shifting, and the tunnels had been flooded with dust, they decided to act.  They quickly organized the other slaves, guiding them away from their Olthoi taskmasters under the cover of darkness.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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Imagine if you will the fear that we felt as we traveled.  Olthoi nests are dark, and the walls seem to be living.  At any moment we could have seen the glowing red eyes of our masters and been undone.  There were in fact many slaves that were simply too scared to move or talk, unless prodded by one of their masters.  Fear is a powerful tool.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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We exited the nest through one of the Rifts in space, and were greeted by the sun.  For many of us, this was a welcome reprieve.  For some of us, like Vesayen's daughter Sharon, this was the first time she had seen the sun on Dereth.  The sight was so beautiful to her, she cried for the first time since she had been taken into captivity.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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It seems that we were too overconfident. Our former masters were quite unwilling to part with us just yet, and pursued us out into the forest.  Many of the younger children fell behind.  Their cries still haunt my sleep to this night.  Those of us that were hardy enough to press on managed to, regardless of how weak or tired we were.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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Fortunately, luck smiled on us, for we happened to come across another Rift in space.  Zenzaburou and Vesayen ushered us through the portal, intent on staying until the last of us had gone through the portal.  I grabbed Sharon, pulling her away from her father and into the swirling rift.  That was to be the last time she would ever see her father, and the last time she would ever cry, to my knowledge.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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Zenzaburou barely pulled himself through the portal before it flickered and began to fade.  His clothes were bloodstained, and his knuckles were split and bruised.  The last of us, twenty in all, gathered are wits and assessed our surroundings.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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The terrain was like nothing we had ever seen before, however the ominous chittering of Olthoi was strangely absent.  This lent us heart, and we pressed on into the woods until we found a reasonably large clearing.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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After time passed, we founded the village of Kryst, in the knowledge that we may very well have been the last bastion of Ispar left that was independent from the Olthoi Horde.  The jungle was not without its inherent dangers, and the savage mosswarts and brutish predators succeeded in claiming some of our numbers regardless of Zenzaburou and Vanten's best efforts.  This lack of safety resulted in some of the people leaving, for they felt they could ensure their continued well being far more than Zenzaburou could.  They have not been heard from in some time, but there are those amongst us that still believe they live, further in the Vesayen Isles.


author_Name: Natalie the Scribe
author_Account: prewritten
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Now, other Isparians have come, revealing that the Olthoi no longer plague our kind.  Instead, they come bearing tales of Shadows that walk like men, and of slain hope.  Only time will reveal what we have missed.

Scribe Natalie, Elder of Kryst


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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                        The Book of Seasons
                        By Gillian the Hunter


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Dereth's seasons are beautiful, whether it be deep winter, when the snows blanket the countryside, or in plush spring, when the trees are blossoming and the grass is a deep verdant green.  However, it seems that while the seasons change, the fauna does not.  At least not until now.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Recently, during my scouting of Dereth, I noticed some of the newly arrived fauna finally adapting to the Derethian seasons.  This has lead to me publishing this book, in the hopes that it will help other fellow poac...Err, hunters like myself.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Shreths:  Shreths have been on Dereth for a long time, and are only now beginning to exhibit some signs of finally adapting to the shifting seasons.  Recently, their hides have begun to thicken, resulting in a the occasional shreth hide, which is useful in making armor for your hands and feet.  If a large enough hide could be found, it is possible you could even make pants out of it.  Bring whatever you find to your local leather crafter.  I'm certain he can do something with it.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Wisps:  It is debatable whether or not these creatures are even alive, yet I have noticed that on occasion when they die, they leave behind a crystallized prism of some type.  The sages I have shown it to say that it could be a result of the cold, but one way or another I know a useful item when I see it.  As of yet, I've been the only person able to do anything with these Wisp hearts, but trust me when I tell you that they are certainly worth it, especially to those Asheron imitators.  If you find one, bring it to me up in the Bandit Castle, and I'll help you out.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Ursuins:  These things are quick.  They've been here for about three months, and they're already adapting!  Maybe they can teach those mattekars a thing or two, and lead by example.  Their coats are getting thicker for the winter, and as a result you can now occasionally find a coat that is worthwhile to strip and bring to a leather crafter.  You can make all sorts of armor out of the hides, eventually competing with the Mattekar coat for protection.


author_Name: Gillian the Hunter
author_Account: prewritten
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Well, that's all for now.  I'll keep you updated if anything else changes amongst the flora and fauna of Dereth.


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Welcome to the land of Dereth, fellow traveler!

I know that your arrival here has been characterized by confusion and chaos.  You have been sucked from our home on Ispar and transplanted to an alien land bereft of most of your family, friends and all that you hold dear.  This is why we formed the Society to explore this land. Our Explorers are visiting the length and breadth of Dereth to examine its creatures and wildlife.  If we cannot leave Dereth, then we will make it our own.


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To that end, we at the Society are providing an adventure for all new travelers to Dereth.  Throughout the civilized lands of Osteth we have scattered official Red and Gold Letters amongst the hostile creatures that our new adventurers are most prone to encounter. Occasionally these creatures will leave behind a Red, or perhaps even a Gold Letter.  Acquiring the possession of such a letter is only the first step, however.


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We have contacted  residents of nine cities located in Osteth. These residents have agreed to don the green cap and robes of the Agents of the Society.  They have hidden their official town stamp in dungeons near each of their towns. Find the Town Stamp and use it on your Red or Gold Letter.  This will create a Stamped Red or Gold Letter, marked with the name of the town whose stamp you used. Take this Stamped Letter to one of the Agents and exchange for it a reward.


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The reward you will receive depends on what town stamped letter is being turned in at which town. Keep in mind that in order to encourage exploration and give you experience in using the portal system which many of use use to travel around Dereth, Society Agents will no longer accept letters from towns in their own heritage!

Turning in red stamped letters will yield a Society reward while gold stamped letter will yield a more powerful Explorer reward. We created these rewards in the hope that they will aid you in adapting and eventually thriving in your new home.


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I've listed the portal coordinates to the different nexus towns in the Nexus Town Information Guide, which you should have received along with this book. I've also included the name and location of the dungeons where you will find the Town Stamps. Finally, I've added a list of what rewards you will receive for the town stamped letters in each of the towns.   


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I wish you the best of luck in your journey.   

Sir Alayne, Founder of the Dereth Exploration Society

I've listed the names of the Society Agents and their towns in the following pages of this book. I have also listed other people who reside in the Outpost Towns, whom you may have some interest in visiting.


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Al-Arqas 
     Agent: Jilsaya bint Dah     
     West Outpost: Nurbaha bint Dah     
     North Outpost: Sarqah bint Ak
Samsur  
     Agent (located at the Northwest Oupost): Rubid al-Jurma     
     East Outpost: Saqat
Yaraq      
     Agent: Mara al-Luq      


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Nanto      
     Agent: Shin Ro     
     East Outpost: Inuo Kon Kou     
     North Outpost: Ji Ra Ping
Shoushi      
     Agent: Oi-Tong Ye     
Yanshi      
     Agent: Dai Ya     
     North Outpost: Lou Ei     
     South Outpost: Te Ven


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Holtburg      
     Agent: Flinrala Ryndmad     
Lytelthorpe      
     Agent: Lord Aleval     
     East Outpost: Ercel     
     West Outpost: Beltslora
Rithwic      
     Agent: Celcynd the Dour     
     East Outpost: Mindorla     
     South Outpost: Brentsella


author_Account: prewritten
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Once this rare Gold Letter is stamped with a Town Stamp, it can be turned into an authorized Society Agent for a reward. Look in the Book of Quests for New Explorers to start on your way. Any of the Society Agents who are catering to new arrivals  in the nine Nexus towns maybe be contacted to obtain this guide.


author_Account: prewritten
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Once this Red Letter is stamped with a Town Stamp, it can be turned into an authorized Society Agent for a reward. Look in the Book of Quests for New Explorers to start on your way. Any of the Society Agents who are catering to new arrivals  in the nine Nexus towns maybe be contacted to obtain this guide.


author_Account: prewritten
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Once this rare Gold Letter is stamped with a Town Stamp, it can be turned into an authorized Society Agent for a reward. Look in the Book of Quests for New Explorers to start on your way. Any of the Society Agents who are catering to new arrivals  in the nine Nexus towns maybe be contacted to obtain this guide


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"Some say the Undead have much to teach us, if only we would let them.  Those people ignore the fact that all knowledge has its price.  And sometimes, that price is dear."
 
-- Sir Saladur ibn Andoun, Explorer of the Society


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"The day of the picnic was quite sublime.  Men and women relaxing in the sun, much food and drink and merriment to be had by all.  I dare say it would have been an unqualified success if those unpleasant Skeleton Warriors with their bows hadn't showed up."

-- Sir Saladur ibn Andoun, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"I intend no offense to my esteemed friend Olivier, but Banderlings serve only one purpose for me: to harass me as I race to Glendon Wood from Zaikhal in order to make my dinner date with the angelic Kristina.  Sometimes it seems as all the creatures of Dereth conspire to prevent me from fulfilling my social obligations."

-- Sir Saladur ibn Andoun, Explorer of the Society 


author_Account: prewritten
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"To the laymen's point of view, Banderlings are nasty and brutish creatures who are fit only to serve as a source of scalps and masks.  Such a perspective ignores the beauty hidden within their ferocious demeanors.  I have never seen a bond so strong amongst the humanoids here as a Banderling with its young."

-- Olivier Rognath, Friend to the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"Bael'Zharon looms ever larger in Dereth, the Shadow darkens and deepens, and people are content to wait and do nothing.  I am not content.  I will not surrender to the darkness."

-- Sir Mikael Alayne, Founder of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"Drudges, unlike their Banderling cousins, deserve all the scorn heaped upon them.  They are thieving, lying, sniveling pieces of filth.  I am sure I am not alone in expecting to feel secure in hanging one's wash on one's clothesline.  Maybe when the Drudges see fit to return my underclothes, I will see fit to not obliterate every Drudge specimen I come across."

-- Olivier Rognath, Friend of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"In thinking about the Olthoi, we should remember the lesson of the Parable of the Ant: 'The force of many shall overcome the majesty of the one.'  If only we were dealing with ants."

-- Madam Ainea Besu, Explorer of the Society 


author_Account: prewritten
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"While I was journeying in the Vesayen Isles, I came across a circle of Shadow Children kneeling and singing to some invisible force.  I have never been more unsettled in my life.  Shall Eternity be marked thus, if Bael'Zharon has his way?"

-- Madam Ainea Besu, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"Sir Andoun seems to have an interest in searching far and wide for the exotic flowers of Dereth.  He should pay more attention to those roses under his nose."

-- Madam Ainea Besu, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"Of course I encouraged Malif in his strange passion for Ursuin wrestling.  It was the only way I could manage to be alone with the delectable Akada."

-- Sir Saladur ibn Andoun, Explorer of the Society 


author_Account: prewritten
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"I am a man of many talents and abilities.  I have an eye for grace and beauty that is paralleled by few.  I say these words not to boast, but only to establish my credentials.  Ainea feels the Niffis are proof of humor amongst the Supreme.  I see it as merely evidence of their poor design skills."

-- Sir Saladur ibn Andoun, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"I find the Niffis to be the most cogent argument that I can muster for evidence of the One having a sense of humor.  Sir Andoun, as he is most prone to tell you, sees the matter differently."

-- Madam Ainea Besu, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"The Virindi are not our enemies on Dereth.  In fact, they may be our Salvation."

-- Sir Mikael Alayne, Founder of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"According to Sir Alayne, there have been numerous reports of organized Mosswarts located west of Sawato.  I am glad that, despite our recent differences, Sir Alayne has seen fit to entrust this important exploration to me."

-- Sir Candeth Martine, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"When I first arrived in Dereth, bereft of my wife and child, bereft of my life, I knew only despair.  The Society and Sir Alayne gave me purpose.  They gave me hope.  Regardless of our current difficulties, I will never forget that."

-- Sir Candeth Martine, Explorer of the Society 


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"In one of our more recent Society meetings, a man told me how excited he was to begin researching and cataloging the 'beautiful Phyntos Wasps.'  Apparently, they seem to be as 'delicate as butterflies.'  He is new to Dereth.  He will learn."

-- Madam Ainea Besu, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"There are Members of my Society who do not understand that we must all stick together in these most trying circumstances.  But they will come to understand.  Of that I feel certain."

-- Sir Mikael Alayne, Founder of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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"Why do I hate Armoredillos?  Once upon a time, I had waged a long and arduous campaign to win the heart of the inestimable Hajima.  Overcoming many miles of separation, slanderous rumors, and an inflexible husband, I was in sight of successfully wooing my heart's desire.  The scene was perfect: a remote desert tent set in the gentle moonlit sands, fine wine, food full of spice and bite, a soft candlelit glow...until that loathsome little...bah, it infuriates me even now.  Needless to say, I possess many fine Armoredillo Spines."

-- Sir Saladur ibn Andoun, Explorer of the Society


author_Account: prewritten
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Al-Arqas 31.3 S 13.6 E
Portal to Samsur 32.6 S 14.4 E
Al-Arqas North Outpost 28.1 S 13.9 E
Al-Arqas West Outpost 31.3 S 10.7 E
Location of the Al-Arqas Town Stamp: Abandoned Shops Portal 32.4 S 12.7 E


author_Account: prewritten
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Holtburg 42.3 N 33.6 E
Portal to Rithwic 42.8 N 34.7 E
Portal to Shoushi 42.2 N 33.8 E
Holtburg South Outpost 39.5 N 33.3 E
Holtburg West Outpost 42.3 N 30.7 E
Location of the Holtburg Town Stamp: Cave of Alabree Portal 42.3 N 29.3 E


author_Account: prewritten
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Lytelthorpe 0.6 N 51.2 E
Portal to Rithwic 2.3 N 52 E
Portal to Holtburg 1.7 N 49.9 E
East Lytelthorpe Outpost 1.1 N 54.2 E
West Lytelthorpe Outpost 1.1 N 48.4 E
Location of the Lytelthorpe Town Stamp: Lost Distillery Portal 0.7 S 51.2 E 


author_Account: prewritten
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Nanto 52.6 S 81.9 E
North Nanto Outpost 49 S 81.6 E
East Nanto Outpost 52.4 S 85.3 E
Portal to Yanshi 52.7 S 80.3 E
Location of Nanto Town Stamp: Water Temple Portal 52.1 S 80.3 E


author_Account: prewritten
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Rithwic 10.6 N 58.3 E
East Rithwic Outpost 10.3 N 61.5 E
South Rithwic Outpost 7.6 N 58.4 E
Portal to Holtburg 10.1 N 57.3 E
Portal to Lytelthorpe 9.5 N 60 E
Portal to Shoushi 11 N 59.3 E
Location of Rithwic Town Stamp: Old Warehouse Portal 8.7 N 58.1 E


author_Account: prewritten
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Samsur 2.9 S 19.5 E
East Samsur Outpost 3.2 S 22.2 E
Northwest Samsur Outpost 0.1 N 16.3 E
Portal to Holtburg 1.6 S 18.4 E
Portal to Yaraq 3.8 S 18.6 E
Location of Samsur Town Stamp: Musansayns Vaults Portal 1 S 18.6 E 


author_Account: prewritten
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Shoushi 33.5 S 72.8 E
Southeast Shoushi Outpost 36.7 S 75.8 E
West Shoushi Outpost 33.6 S 69.8 E
Portal to Nanto 33.2 S 72.2 E
Portal to Yanshi 34.1 S 73.2 E
Portal to Yaraq 33.7 S 72.9 E
Location of Shoushi Town Stamp: Shreth Hive Portal 32.5 S 71 E


author_Account: prewritten
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Yanshi 12.7 S 46.4 E
North Yanshi Outpost 9.9 S 46.7 E
South Yanshi Outpost 15.6 S 46.5 E
Portal to Shoushi 14.7 S 46.6 E
Portal to Yaraq 12.1 S 46.3 E
Location of Yanshi Town Stamp: Deserted Ruin Portal 16 S 47.2 E 


author_Account: prewritten
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Yaraq 21.5 S 1.6 W
North Yaraq Outpost 18.7 S 1.6 W
East Yaraq Outpost 21.4 S 1.2 E
Portal to Al-Arqas 21.9 S 1.5 W
Portal to Samsur 21.9 S 1.7 W
Portal to Holtburg 22.0 S 0.8 W
Location of Yaraq Town Stamp: Sea Temple Catacombs Portal 20.2 S 4.4 W


author_Account: prewritten
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Greetings, Isparian,

I have instructed my emissaries to distribute these notes to your people because it is in the power of humans, and no one else in Auberean, to defeat Bael'Zharon. As your people were the agents of his escape from imprisonment, so you may find redemption in his defeat. I have known for some time that he could not remain imprisoned forever. I have devoted much of my time to finding other ways to defeat the Hopeslayer.


author_Account: prewritten
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Many years ago, a council of mages of power surpassing mine convened to trap Bael'Zharon and contain his essence in the now-shattered crystal array. No such group of mages exists today, nor, I fear, will it ever again exist. I was the only participant to survive the cataclysmic ritual. Fortunately, events have converged in a way that may make it possible to defeat and banish the Hopeslayer for an additional period of grace. 


author_Account: prewritten
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The first part of the key to defeat Bael'Zharon lies in his past, when he was once a man named Ilservian Palacost. Ilservian had a beloved son named Avoren.  Avoren is, of course, long dead, slain in the endless wars waged upon this island eons before your people came here. A great part of the Hopeslayer's rage, which inspired his crusade against Empyrean society, came from the death of his son. The dead son's body lies in a crypt in the desert. A surfeit of magical energy infuses the skull, energy with a resonance attuned to Ilservian Palacost.  The skull can be used to drain some of the vital essence of Bael'Zharon.


author_Account: prewritten
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The second part of the key to defeat Bael'Zharon is held by his own armies. There is an artifact, the Heart of Shadow, heavily defended by shadows and their allies, which serves as a conduit between the dark realm of the Hopeslayer's masters and this world. Put to proper use, the Shadow Heart can halt the flow between the shadow realm and our own. Strangely enough, even I would have remained ignorant of this artifact's existence, if not for whispered words by a shadowed entity who refused to let himself be known...


author_Account: prewritten
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The last artifact is in the hands of the unknowable ones, the Virin'di. The Virin'di have made many compromises to allow themselves to manifest in this world. Their shared intelligence and powers of telepathy work imperfectly. They must also hold a piece of the core of their power in our world. 


author_Account: prewritten
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They maintain something called a "Singularity" which seems to serve many roles in their society and in their consciousness. A tiny part of this Singularity appears intermittently in their strongest fortress, found in the Obsidian Plains. The vast powers of dimensional magic contained in even such a small piece of the Singularity would be invaluable in finding a way to banish Bael'Zharon.


author_Account: prewritten
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These items, together, would allow me to weaken Bael'Zharon from afar. He is far too powerful to be defeated in open battle, but with my ritual working to undermine him, powerful human champions will be able to overcome him. Be warned, however, that Bael'Zharon cannot be truly killed, nor can his influence, his altars, be eradicated. The best to be hoped for is that he will be banished from this plane of existence for a period of grace, and steps can be taken to prepare your civilization to deal with him should he ever again return. I request that any human who wields great power in this world take up arms to stand against the Hopeslayer.


author_Account: prewritten
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I am pleased to say that the defeat of Bael'Zharon has been accomplished.

He has been driven off, though not destroyed. It would require powers far beyond ours to do such a thing. Such powers have not walked the world since the age of my people's legends.

The remnants of Dericost played a role in this victory. I remain uncertain whether their grievous losses are a tragedy or a blessing. I do not believe they have the numbers to stride across the world as its masters once more.


author_Account: prewritten
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The Virin'di, those that walk in the space between all places, also assisted us. Do not believe this is any charity or sympathy from them. They do not understand either concept.  As with the Dericost, they merely saw in Ilservian a dangerous rival that needed to be eliminated. With that threat removed, or at least delayed, I predict they will quicken the pursuit of their own goals. Again, I fear, I will need to oppose them.


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We also owe a debt to, of all people, Isin Dule. I am unsure what motivated his unexpected assistance. The price he paid for it may haunt us yet; exiled from the Shadows, he and his followers have retreated to some undisclosed location. There is a rift in the forces of the Enemy, and this is not the end of his tale.

Most of all, the victory belongs to you, the peoples of Ispar. I am in your debt.


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I am a single man. I have mastered many powers, yes, but nothing you yourselves could not, should you be taught. One man alone cannot stand against thousands, no matter his powers. You did what I could not, striving by the hundreds and thousands against the Enemy's legions. You collected the reagents of this vast binding. You kept them safe as they were brought to me. You fought hand to hand with the greatest evil of all time in the physical world as I struggled to weave the powers of earth and darkness and portalspace into a web around him.


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I have often walked among you these long years, unseen, cautious in my explorations. I have overheard those who curse my name, who think I have brought you here intentionally as pawns in some great struggle. They have said that they would kill me should they see me in person. I have also overheard those who revere me as some paragon of animals, nigh to a god. They have said that they would worship me, should they see me in person.


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I am not a schemer. I am not a god. I have been the death of everyone I once held dear. My people are lost for a mistake I made. There is more blood on my wretched hands than you can possibly imagine. My people were mariners, and like the captains of our great sailing vessels, I remain here at the wheel long after I lowered the last of the boats to safety. It is my fault, and that is my responsibility.


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I have made so many mistakes. I am sorry for everything that has happened to you because of me. Were it possible, if I knew the path, I would have sent you home long ago. The Sundering, the very event that began to draw you here, skewed the ways.


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A friend of my mother's once told me that the most painful experiences of our lives have a purpose which will only be known at the end of all things. When she told me this, I was but an ignorant boy, full of power and arrogance. I laughed at her. I am older now, and have seen too much. Now I turn her words over in my mind and wonder if what you have started here is but the next chapter of a struggle that has raged across my world for most of the 30,000 years we have record of.


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You have turned a page. The next chapter begins here.

For now, I will remain in exile. It is, I think, better for us all if I do not disrupt your lives any more than I already have.

Whatever peace I have to offer, I offer to you. May Light fall gently upon your shoulders.

~ Asheron Realaidain, Moriqui Eipoth 590


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
          General History of Dereth Vol. I
                        Frostfell, 10 P.Y.
                  "The Sudden Season"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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In the month known as Frostfell, the isle of Dereth was beset by a sudden freeze. As mages scrambled to explain the dropping temperatures, the snowline dipped down from the lofty peaks of the Lost Wish and Linvak mountain ranges, until the entire island was coated with several inches of snow. Even the Gharu'ndim, deep in the hot and barren A'mun desert, awoke one morn to find their stately brick courtyards blanketed with white. In Samsur, the Fountain of Musansayn froze solid. 


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Somewhere in the wastes, the exploration party of Sir Joffre Tremblant fell afoul of dark forces. The legendary Knight of the Golden Flame order had gone in search of a fabled lost city alluded to in certain Empyrean texts. At first, his party was presumed lost in the blinding snows. Intrepid bands followed his meandering path from Arwic to Stonehold, gathering clues to his final destination.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Along the way, many assisted the aims of Lady Tallial of Neydisa Castle, or those of her rival MacDugal in the Bandit Castle. Others grappled with Hoary Mattekars, ferocious mountain creatures the size of a house. The hides of these creatures, when given to the skilled tradesmen of Dereth, were quickly turned into fine Mattekar Robes.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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With the assistance of the scholars of Zaikhal, the search parties discovered the path to the mysterious underground city of Frore. Here the fate of the Tremblant Party stood revealed; the group had been slain and then turned into undead slaves by an ancient cult of Empyrean necromancers calling themselves the Gelidites.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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In the depths of the frozen hell of Frore, adventurers struggled through legions of undead sorcerers, who were lead by a council of three dark priests. These three, Ferundi, Frisander, and Fenngar by name, were slain at the gates of the city. In the deepest caverns, parties were brought up short by a cadre of Gelidite Lords led by the powerful sorcerer Frisirth. The Gelidite necromancer controlled Sir Tremblant, who pleaded for death even as he was magically forced to defend his evil master.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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When Tremblant was released from his misery and Frisirth defeated, the parties confronted a greater mystery -- a large, rotating crystal the Gelidites called the Great Work. This magical artifact had been discovered by Frisirth centuries before. Under the enchantments of the Gelidites, the Great Work sucked the heat from the earth, causing the snows that carpeted Dereth.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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When the explorers rushed to destroy it, the crystal defended itself with powerful magics. Many were slain, but in the end the Isparians prevailed. Abrim of Morningthaw chronicled the final battle against the Work in his tale "Return to Frore," which became a bestseller at the capital towns of Cragstone, Hebian-To, and Zaikhal.

With the Great Work shattered, warmth began to seep back into the land. The exhausted and battered adventurers returned to their homes, to enjoy the blessings of the Solstice, Festival of Lights, and Night Feast holidays.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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During the celebrations, new culinary delights had been invented to delight the palate. Kakori of Thistledown made Carrot Cake, Dani the Crazed of Leafcull introduced Famous Pizza, Raszagal and Tassadar of Morningthaw created Hot Kimchi, and Firedemon of Thistledown baked the first Spiced Apple Pie. Bortin of Frostfell created Fruitcake, but he has since been forgiven, and is occasionally allowed back into town. 


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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The remnants of the Gelidite cult were left in sorrow, their great hopes dashed. Departing adventurers even seized their ancient scriptures as spoils of war. Our Great Work, a memoir written by Ferundi, was given to the scholars of Hebian-To, and the ancient Book of Minesh, a history of the Gelidite cult, was seized by the Zaikhal Arcanum.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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          General History of Dereth Vol. II
                         Frostfell, 10 P.Y.
                           "Dark Thaw"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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As the heat seeped back into the earth, snowlines receded. Patches of slush still dotted the landscape, but hints of green returned to most of the land. All was not well, however.

The enigmatic Shadow creatures began to walk the landscape openly, harassing adventurers and making travel through remote areas a dangerous proposition. In addition, floating Crystal Fragments appeared. While originally thought to be pieces of the Gelidites' Great Work, the vast numbers of Fragments that soon swarmed across Dereth seemed to imply another origin.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Fortunately, the most learned mages of the land had taken to heart the dire prognostications of the recovered Gelidite scriptures. The Archmages Celdiseth, Fadsahil al-Tashbi, Nuhmudira, and Shoyanen Kenchu offered for sale Master Mage Robes of fine quality, while they allowed their Apprentice Mage Robes to be sold by the local mages of various towns.

Non-mages were not left without fashionable attire, however, as the traditional warrior garb of Ispar began to appear in Dereth. Celdon, Amullian, and Koujia Armor became visible signs of a warrior's prowess.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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         General History of Dereth Vol. III
                        Coldeve, 11 P.Y.
                   "Shadows of the Past"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Providence smiled upon the refugee nations of Ispar in the month of Coldeve. Whispers began to cross the land of ancient storage vaults hidden across the length and breadth of Dereth. Bold parties sought these lost facilities out, and discovered weapons used in the last war with the Shadows, some two thousand years before humans first arrived in this land. These were designed ages ago by alchemist and warrior Lord Atlan, and his wife, the enchanter Lady Maila. While the contributions of both were apparently vital to winning the last war, the documentation recovered suggested both died in the conflict - hardly a reassuring statistic.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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The Atlan artifacts were a set of melee weapons - swords, daggers, maces, and so on - which could be alchemically refined from raw of pyreal motes. The weapons could be further improved using a set of elemental stones, which could be exchanged at will using a special stone tool. This allowed, for example, a frosting axe to be turned into a lightning axe. While motes of the magical alloy pyreal could be recovered from any type of golem, the stones and the tool were securely stored in several remote and dangerous dungeons. 


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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One of these was defended by legions of powerful undead, another with fire elementals and magma golems, a third by never-before-seen lightning elementals, and another had become the home of a band of Tumeroks. Olthoi had infested the final vault, named Incunabula, transforming it into the most deadly hive known to exist in Dereth.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Perhaps in response to the discovery of these weapons, the Shadows that had made overland travel a terrifying prospect melted away into the night. Very few remained under open skies, although this made some more nervous than relieved. Taverns abounded with fresh rumors of evil's hand in the world.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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Many powerful monarchs were whisked away to a remote island, said to lie to the southwest of Dereth. Here they were challenged by a dark presence to run a gauntlet filled with bizarre monsters. While most lost their sense of direction, or were slain by the gauntlet's fierce inhabitants, two of the most dangerous fiends in Dereth survived the trial; Blackthorn and Vidorian of Thistledown. They were rewarded with corrupted Shadow Stones, which could be fitted into the Atlan weapons.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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These stones gave a weapon tremendous power... though their use seemed to drain the will and sense of self in the wielder. It remained to be seen what the two so-called "Dark Masters" would be called upon to do. Fafhrd of Thistledown and Killean of Morningthaw made a heroic decision to defy the gathering evil, and refused to take the dark presence's test. Their selfless denial of easy power would be remembered in the days ahead.


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The hand of darkness also sought allies using means as subtle as the monarch kidnappings were gross. Hamud ibn Rafik, leader of an extremist sect of the Gharu'ndim Zharalim called the Tenebrous Edge, made his presence known in Dereth. He and his daughter Devana sent many adventurers on a test of their own. Success earned a magnificent Pyreal Katar that pulsed with dark power, trailing streamers of sooty, cloying mist. Rumor held that Rafik had lost his mind taking to heart Archephoros' maxim that to fight darkness, sometimes one must become a shadow.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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On the opposite edge of the A'mun desert, Dizah ibn Nadqab began excavating a massive crypt complex built beneath an ancient fortress near Zaikhal. He apparently ventured where he shouldn't have, and the ancient dead of the Impious Temple reawakened, chasing him out of the complex. In exchange for funds to continue his research, he let the bold enter the Temple. A shattered staff, apparently unusable, was discovered in its depths. Fortunately, some adventurers managed to find someone wise enough to repair it.


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Not all the news was worrisome. The land continued to recover from the damage wrought by the Great Work of the Gelidites. Flowers blossomed all over Osteth, filling the air with drifting clouds of pollen. Rabbits, delighted by the return of warm weather, quickly did as rabbits are wont to do. A veritable plague of baby bunnies flooded the landscape, nibbling crops and tripping inattentive travelers. Most were harmless irritants, but tales of more dangerous baby bunnies trickled out of the Direlands . . .


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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Meantime, the excavations of over twenty Meeting Halls, dating from the Empyrean Era of Lore, were completed near the major towns of Dereth. These underground amphitheaters are thought to have been built for nobles and scholars to hold assemblies, or for local troop garrisons to hold briefings. They resumed their duties quickly enough, as allegiances across Dereth began to hold their meetings in these structures.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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In other local news, Guthima the Wise, archmage of Arwic, moved down the road. Complaints from neighbors about crowds of mages practicing their craft all hours of the night convinced the town's nobility to build a new shop for him outside of town.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Lastly, as if in omen, the beginning of the month saw a titanic bridge, carved from volcanic obsidian, appear over the River Prosper between Holtburg, Cragstone, and Arwic. Formerly cloaked by the lost magical arts of the Empyrean, the Obsidian Span drew crowds of gawkers. Not a few unfortunate souls jumped off of it -- doubtless driven to insanity by the inescapable gift of Lifestone resurrection. Sages could only speculate what other structures might lie in plain sight without our knowing.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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         General History of Dereth Vol. IV
                     Wintersebb, 11 P.Y.
                  "Darkness Ascendant"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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While swarms of bees buzzed around the spring blossoms in the many marriage ceremonies, ill omens filled the air. Most dramatically, a series of earthquakes presaged the eruption of bizarre Shadow Spires across the face of Dereth. These enormous constructions burst from the ground near the towns of Khayyaban, Tufa, Sawato, Tou-Tou, Cragstone, and Eastham. Travelers reported seeing spires in the deep wilderness as well. Sages claimed they were somehow alive, but little could be proven, for no way could be found to enter them. Brooding and malevolent, yet seemingly harmless, the Spires floated ominously over the land.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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Then came the abductions.

Many adventurers reported being pulled into the spires by three distinct presences, and subjected to a battery of questions. Some of these questions were quite unfathomable, referring to people and events not yet familiar to humanity in Dereth. Most shocking, however, was the final question; which of the six towns visited by the Spires should be destroyed? Some of the abducted answered with a random town, in fear of the power shown by the unseen presence, others chose a specific town out of spite. A few refused to choose, and were returned uninjured.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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As the month progressed, disturbing changes began to be wrought upon the face of the heavens. The sun shrank, turning a dim, bloody red. The clouds would fade to a sick sulphuric tint during storms. The moons of Alb'arel and Rez'arel swelled to grotesque size, and some feared they were falling. Through it all, the form of a demon lurked along the northern horizon, visible only during the most violent tempests.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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In the face of what seemed to be an impending catastrophe, the people of Dereth worked feverishly to prepare their defenses. Many sought the ancient weapons of Atlan, recovered the previous month, reasoning that the best defense would be an effective offense. Others, notably the Master Smiths Jibril ibn Rashid, Koga Hideki, and Alean the Steel Forger sought more traditional means of defense. From the gems and shards carried by the crystal fragments and Shadows, they crafted fine sets of Shadowhunter Armor. Those who brought them these hard-to-recover trophies could have them fashioned into these exquisite defenses.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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At the end of the month, an expectant silence hovered over Dereth, broken only by the howl of the Spires and the frantic hammering of the Master Smiths. Ground tremors struck the island, as if something within the earth was stirring . . .


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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         General History of Dereth Vol. V
                  Morningthaw, 11 P.Y.
             "Thorns of the Hopeslayer"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In Morningthaw, darkness and blood flooded the land in equal measures.

The month began inauspiciously enough. The pent-up tension of the previous month, the feeling of a wave about to crash against the rocks, hovered still over the heads of all. The clouds still raced, the moons still loomed, and the figure of the Demon still appeared during storms... yet no Shadow activity broke the oppressive quiet. The biggest news was the murder of the Banderling thief known as Gertarh.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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In the desert, Hamud ibn Rafik fought a personal battle with the forces of Darkness, and it did not go well with him. "We no longer fear our mortality," he wrote his daughter Devana, "but rest assured there still exist things worse than death." Having given his loyalty to the forces of Bael'Zharon, he found himself less and less able to resist their commands. He told Devana of a portal in the South Direlands, leading to a facility called the Nexus. He seemed to think that some key to defeating the Shadows could be found in that place.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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Unfortunately, those attempting to investigate the complex found the way blocked by strong doors. Some attempted to slip through by exploiting unpredictable forms of teleportation magic.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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During the pause, explorers rediscovered the legendary Silifi of Crimson Stars - an artifact many despaired of ever finding. The weapon had been lost after the death of the One Queen, when the warrior Wari al Sha'im had wandered into the A'mun desert in search of new challenges. Apparently he met a violent end, for his weapon was broken into many pieces, none of which were easily found. It seemed that the blade had been utterly shattered. Only careful exploration of the desert lands allowed the bold to reconstruct the Silifi. Kayna bint Iswas, a recluse Walim scholar learned in the lore of the Silifi, was instrumental in forging this Isparian relic anew.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Then, the Shadows launched their invasion. The first wave, lead by a Shadow Captain, hit Fort Tethana and the Direlands. After a sharp battle, the defenders of the Fort repulsed the dark warriors, slaying the Captain. Shouts of victory echoed from the walls, but the euphoria was short-lived. The Shadows advanced across the northern land bridge into Osteth, encamping themselves at Plateau. They were defeated there as well, and moved further east, into the Mount Esper area. Their last Captain moved to Stonehold to lead her forces, but was anticipated. A large force met her there, and she was cut down.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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While the remnants of the Captains' forces could be found in the forests and on the slopes of Esper, the Shadow armies seemed to have gone underground once more. The illusion of peace was shattered a week later, as their armies poured into the Direlands once more, under the leadership of the dread general Black Ferah.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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She first assaulted the religious retreat at Wei Jhou. The defenders were hard pressed, but once Ferah appeared to lead the attack personally, she was quickly surrounded and cut down. Again, the defenders rejoiced, but Ferah, as she fell, hissed, "A fine attempt, but this is but my shadow. I shall move on!" So she did, advancing across the southern land bridge into the Linvak Mountains. Ferah was perhaps too bold in stating her intentions, and was met in the hamlet of Kara by strong forces.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Ferah and her Lieutenant were smote within seconds of appearing. Again, the Isparians rejoiced. Some, contemptuous of Ferah's generalship, thought the battle no longer worth their time, and left the field.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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This proved a mistake, as the general moved her command post into one of the howling Shadow Spires. The portals leading to this blasphemous construct appeared randomly on the landscape. Not a few adventurers wandered into these gateways unawares, and were slain by Ferah and her bodyguard. In the end, the Isparians assembled at the portals to launch a cohesive assault on the Spire. Ferah again found herself overwhelmed. She fell, coldly stating, "A fine attempt . . . I see I must reformulate my plans." Again, the Isparians celebrated a victory, and again it was but a temporary respite.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Eight days after the climactic fight in the Spire, Ler Rhan's forces flooded the wastes of the A'mun desert. Unlike Ferah, he elected to establish his headquarters in the Spires at the outset. However, the portals to the Spires proved unresponsive to powerful adventurers. Younger warriors, mages, and archers sortied into the Spire and were beaten back by his fearsome apparition. Eventually, however, he was overcome, and moved on to the plains in the Aluvian-settled regions of Dereth.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Again, he was tracked and defeated. Once more he moved, into the Spire found in the festering Blackmire Swamp. Once more he fell, and Black Ferah reappeared in the Direlands to give his troops time to regroup.

To assist her, she brought to life the spires that loomed close to the towns of Osteth. The Shadows of the Spires, Shadow Children for the most part, were fought by the newest arrivals to Dereth, as the portals leading to their lairs refused to activate for the mighty. The town Spires, however, did field two new horrors; Shadow Sprites and Spire Shadows. Sprites appeared to be Zefir


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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that had been absorbed by the darkness. Spire Shadows, possibly the most disgusting of Bael'Zharon's followers, appeared to have grown out of the floor of their charges. The implications were troubling; it now appeared that the Spires were bizarre, living fusions of multiple creatures, twisted and bent to the will of the Hopeslayer.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Each of the Shadow Spires, however, carried a secret treasure: a piece of a key. When these were combined in the proper fashion, the doors to the Nexus were opened. Massive parties flooded the facility. Legions of powerful Undead and Shadows resisted their advance, but the sheer numbers told. At the bottom of the Nexus hovered a floating crystal, similar to the Great Work of Frore.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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It was quickly swarmed by the vengeful Isparians, and fell. Tayway of Thistledown, Freeze of Frostfell, Al Neo of Morningthaw, Qua Badib of Leafcull, Hell Maker of Harvestgain, and Lop of Darktide made the killing blows, and were rewarded with chunks of the Crystal. At the fall of the Nexus, the Shadow-armies melted away into the Darkness, leaving behind only an echo of triumphant laughter.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Many questions were left unanswered. Where was the third general, Isin Dule, and why had he not participated in the assault? What was the purpose of the invasion, and why, if the Shadows have limitless armies, did so few participate? What was the Nexus Crystal, why were the Shadows protecting it, and why did they melt away upon its destruction? Most importantly, what was yet to come? The generals were pushed back, but not defeated, and Bael'Zharon's power still waxed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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        General History of Dereth Vol. VI
                       Solclaim, 11 P.Y.
                      "Heroes' Respite"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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A hush fell upon the land. The sun, so recently shrunken to a bloody orb, burned bright and full once more. Of the Shadows, there was no sign, and their intentions remained inscrutable.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Jaleh al-Thani sought an answer to the mystery in the depths of the Direlands, the only area where Shadows were known to remain in numbers. Leading a caravan of like-minded Sho and Gharu'ndim, the noble settled near the Darktide Festival Stone, and established the town of Ayan Baqur. Rather quickly, a group of Aluvians arrived, driven by the overcrowding in Arwic. Among this group was Ulgrim the Unpleasant, a discredited scholar. While Ulgrim's stout-fueled rants entertained many, few believed a word he spoke.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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Ayan Baqur's most unique resident, however, was "Claude," a Virindi who floated into town one afternoon with a wave and a hollow-voiced, "Greetings. Might a simple human archmage dispense his wares from within your defenseless hovel?" Claude was given a tent a safe distance from his "fellow humans." Whether the residents accepted him out of fear, curiosity, or amusement remains open to debate.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Meanwhile, in the north, Lady Tallial acquired a seneschal to oversee her long-neglected tasks at Neydisa Castle. The Lady had been in a deep depression since the death of Sir Joffre Tremblant in Frore. Hence, her decision to take on the untrustworthy Gormling may be forgiven. Like Ulgrim, the seneschal couldn't hold his drink. Worse, he was discovered to be an agent of her rival, the bandit MacDougal. Tallial, who spent her days staring wretchedly at mementos Tremblant had left her, seemed oblivious to her peril.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Harking to the abandoned arts of Ispar, weaponsmiths recreated Viamont's piercing rapier weapons, sneeringly referred to as "the big stick-pins" by Aluvian highlanders. Many were promptly stolen by Drudges seeking shiny objects, and eventually passed on to more powerful monsters. Other new weapons were discovered by adventurers afield; a cursed dagger and electrical throwing daggers belonging to the elusive assassin Oswald. Again, the crafty rogue managed to evade his pursuers.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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Finally, in the fastness of his mountain stronghold, the assassin Hamud ibn Rafik continued to fight his lonely war against the dominion of the Shadows. When some Tenebrous Edge initiates came to see him, they discovered he had been transformed into a Shadow creature, and barely able to speak. "I am unable to leave my chambers in this ancient, cursed fortress," he had written his daughter. "I know now what will become of me. The Dark Master himself spoke to me and told me what lies in store... what awaits me now surpasses even the depraved rites of the Milantans." Alone and tormented, the entity that had been Hamud stoically awaited his fate.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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        General History of Dereth Vol. VII
                       Seedsow, 11 P.Y.
                 "Paths of Destruction"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Shadow Spires, which had held a ceaseless vigil over six towns since Wintersebb, began to move. Almost simultaneously, a wave of fierce portal-energy squalls slid down the length of the Direlands, bringing with them fiercer varieties of banderling, shreth, and other familiar creatures. The scholars of Hebian-to, Zaikhal, and Cragstone argued that these events were too coincidental, and had to be somehow related. It was previously known that the Spires could disturb portalspace, as portals had begun to appear at random on the landscape at the same time they rose.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Other creatures made their first appearance in Seedsow. Several powerful new types of undead skeleton began to rise from the sands and mires of the Direlands, and were seen to march to the northeast. As well, beautiful and deadly Empyrean diamond golem artifacts flooded out from long-abandoned storehouses.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Fortunately, Yuan Hanzu, a skilled bowyer, completed his research into replicating the old composite bows of Ispar with locally available materials. Archers and Crossbowmen across Dereth rejoiced, washed their hands often, and promptly joined the hoards of warriors and mages that had crowded into a number of newly discovered dungeons, heavily populated with Othoi, Tuskers, Lugians, and other creatures.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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The most mysterious discovery of the month involved a number of unusual new war magic spells, unknown to the arts of Ispar. Wandering mages in the wilderness claimed that mysterious voices from the darkness offered them "long-dormant powers" if they attempted bizarre combinations of reagents. The source of these whispers was not discovered. While hard to learn and cast, the new spells, including rings and streaks, spread quickly by word of mouth.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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In local news, Yu Vuo-Ki and her sister Dansha-Ki moved to the north of besieged town of Dryreach. Dansha, a rather inattentive woman, found herself captured by the roving Tumerok patrols that surrounded Dryreach, and had to be rescued by passing adventurers.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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       General History of Dereth Vol. VIII
                     Leafdawning, 11 P.Y.
             "To Raise a Banner of Flame"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The Shadow Spires continued their slow, imperturbable glide over the landscape, moving towards goals none could yet guess. Small groups of Shadows could still be found wandering the landscape, but their army, and their generals, remained sight unseen. Many began to wonder what the enemy was planning, if anything. Some optimists insisted that the dark ones had forgotten about this world, and gone on the bigger conquests elsewhere.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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In north- and southwestern Osteth, residents were harried by an influx of creatures from the Direlands, driven east by the new, ferocious creatures that arrived in Seedsow. They were not the only creatures busy, however, as the massive Lugians discovered an ore with unique properties in the Linvak Mountains to the south. Soon they had opened three mines to recover this "Chorizite," which appeared to be conventional metal that had somehow been rendered magically "dead," and could not be affected by enchanters. When humanity discovered this marvelous material, the workers quickly found themselves overrun with eager would-be miners.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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While the Lugian miners logged a staggering number of workplace accidents with their supervisors, Isparian sages found a variety of uses for Chorizite. Refined and forged, it could make weapons capable of piercing all protective enchantments to self and armor, although these weapons also shrugged off all manner of arcane enhancement. Ground, it could be used as a reagent by mages. As a result of Chorizite's unique properties, spells that used powdered Chorizite were able to dispel enchantments on their target. Distilled, the ore could be used in Alchemy, allowing those skilled in this art to make drinkable potions that could dispel low-level


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
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enchantments.

Meanwhile, one of the earliest defenders of Dereth was found to be not quite as dead as it was assumed. The crypt of Mi Krau-Li, one of the most famous users of the Sho jitte weapon (some said he was the ONLY user) was found empty. A note found nearby complained that he had been buried alive, and had gone off to complete his work. Explorers did later find Krau-Li, quite dead and half-decayed, but still maintaining that he was alive. In exchange for the return of one of his older jittes, he offered the reward of his newly developed "improved" jitte.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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The smiths of Dereth also developed new weapons. Swordstaves and tridents came into use by spear users, as did spiked clubs for those who preferred the mace. Perhaps inspired by the ingenuity of humans, the mewling drudges "developed" wooden boards with nails stuck through them, and used them to poke innocent passers by. The giant Lugians took this "innovation" one step further. Young Lugian hooligans were soon to be found bashing each other with bigger boards, and bigger nails.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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The biggest news of the month was the discovery of a passage to a heretofore-unknown island. A pair of undead heralds arrived in the Direlands, one in the northeast at the undead fortress of Chalicmere, and the other in the southeast, at a trio of sandy old crypts. In exchange for huge sums of money, these emissaries would cast a portal to the island of Aerlinthe, which lies to the northeast of Dereth.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Aerlinthe was an intensely volcanic island, with several peaks ringing a central lagoon. It seemed, in fact, that the island's nature had been the death of its original population long ago; a ruined port was discovered along the southeast shore, with its inhabitants found frozen into positions of horror by falling ash. Many fossilized undead skeletons still wandered the island, as did a host of bizarre new creatures. Coral golems lined the navigation channel into the lagoon. Tenuous vapor and plasma golems roamed the calderas of the volcanoes and the underground.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Intrepid adventurers, following instructions found on the bones of an undead Empyrean smith, managed to restart the old forge mechanisms built into the central mountain of Tenkarrdun. With a rumble that could be heard as far as Ayan Baqur, the volcano came to life. Plumes of magma and a hoard of powerful blue-white fire elementals issued forth from the caldera of great Tenkarrdun. Those who visited the steaming crater found themselves overwhelmed and driven back.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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However, the sighting of a great beast brought them back for more. The "Behemoth of Tenkarrdun," a huge and powerful (though stupid) magma golem, had crawled up from the depths of the mountain to blister and squash all who dared approach its home. It was eventually overwhelmed and killed. Some say a mere duo managed to slay it, others insist that it took an assault of nearly a hundred to bring it down.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
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Unfortunately, Aerlinthe kept its remaining secrets for the time being. As Leafdawning drew to a close, the bulk of the invading force of fire elementals still held the caldera of Mount Tenkarrdun. While many searched unsuccessfully for some obscure, hidden method to end their reign, few seemed willing to directly challenge them in open combat. Perhaps this was due to the fierce conditions in the crater, or perhaps because what commanded the occupying forces could not be easily discerned.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
        General History of Dereth Vol. IX
                      Verdantine, 11 P.Y.
                      "Taste of Twilight"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At the beginning of Verdantine, shooting stars began to grace the heavens with increasing frequency. Sages theorized this to be related to the mounting activity of the Shadows, who had been largely dormant since their attacks in the month of Morningthaw.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Bizarre organic messenger creatures taken from Shadows revealed they were not monolithic after all. Rather, they seemed to be split into three distinct factions. One group was loyal to Bael'Zharon. Another, swearing their allegiance to his general Isin Dule, seemed alarmed by the Hopeslayer's blind rage, and appeared to be working to keep him imprisoned. The last faction was barely comprehensible. Loyal to neither Bael'Zharon nor Dule, they were obsessed with "opening the ways" for something yet greater than the dread Hopeslayer.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
It is thought that the minions of Bael'Zharon were responsible for the so-called "Arenas" that opened at this time. The portals to these underground complexes were restricted to those who had sworn to serve the lord of chaos. Reports of what lay within were hard to come by, but those few who were willing to talk mentioned gladiatorial blood sports fought between and judged by Bael'Zharon's human servants. It was assumed that these arenas were built to hone the prowess of the Hopeslayer's followers for the coming struggle.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Meantime, the Dericost undead mobilized at the behest of the Aerfalle, the powerful Lady of Aerlinthe. Adventurers intercepted many messages between the various factions of their society that spoke of gathering armies and collecting intelligence. The Isparians seemed to have gained an ally of sorts against the minions of Bael'Zharon, though perhaps not one they would have chosen. Whereas the Shadows sought to absorb all life, the undead seemed intent on conquering the living after beating off the Enemy. Things seemed bleak for humanity no matter what the outcome of this conflict.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In the midst of all the alarming news, reclusive mage Aliester the Loquacious discovered that because Shadowhunter Armor was crafted from magical gems, it could be "attuned" to the elemental properties of the gemstones crafted by the Yalaini enchanter Lady Maila. Although the plates of armor crafted by the master smiths were still of lesser quality than those made before Hamud ibn Rafik's vicious attacks, inserting any of the stones used in Lord Atlan's ancient weapons could enhance them.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Wanderers braving the untamed wilds of the southern Direlands discovered that a clan of undead had recently taken up residence of three towers by the coast. After slaughtering those in the towers, a passage was found to a long-hidden underground temple complex, inhabited by a long-lost cult of undead. The slaying of their High Acolyte yielded a rather distasteful reward. Certain of Dereth's crafters nevertheless found this object valuable.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The scholars of Zaikhal, Cragstone, and Hebian-to announced that they sought additions for the great libraries of those towns. Three winners were selected from each heritage. The Sho cleaned space on their shelves for Ja'afar al-Saladin of Solclaim's "The Emperor's Blade," Loka Wu of Morningthaw's "Loka Jii Learns to Hunt," and Nandesu Ka of Leafcull's "Journal of Nandesu Ka." Aluvians burned many candles reading Vexorg of Thistledown's "The D00dz," Aytalya of Darktide's "Shadows of My Doubts," and Aragorn of Thistledown's "The Journals of Change" late into the night. The Gharu'ndim pondered the words of


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Anjwar al-Jaenth of Morningthaw's "Recalling The Calling," Ariq al-Binara of Frostfell's "Derethian Skies," and Ashgad of Thistledown's "Midnight Revelation."

Chocolate, a legendary delicacy from old Ispar, was discovered in the grubby hands of Mosswarts and Banderlings. Half-remembered tales of its delicious taste and aroma lead to a massive hunt to replicate the lost recipes of the human homeworld.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Khallayne and Raynie of Thistledown provided chocolate milk. Rhiannon Morgana and Touryan Kurigsun of Frostfell supplied chocolate cake. Betty Crocker of Leafcull, one of the famous chefs of Cragstone Farms Catering, created chocolate ice cream. Chen Kenichi of Frostfell, part of the ill-starred adventuring troupe Vitae Rising, produced the chocolate bar, known colloquially as the "Vitae Bar." Chen proudly noted that infamous beating-magnet Wi loved his creation. Ho Chun and Theran Bakagin of Frostfell, meanwhile, leavened the somewhat bitter Vitae Bar into a creamy milk chocolate bar.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Aiyaan Shiefu of Leafcull, a member of the Silver Citadel allegiance, whipped up Dereth's first cup of hot mocha. Yakamura Shinji of Frostfell added ice to mocha, resulting in a refreshing drink for a lazy summer afternoon (assuming one can ever be found in Dereth). Atsushi and Deckape of Morningthaw added cinnamon to Aiyaan's original creation to create rich mocha. Elanwen of Harvestgain, with help from Jenna, combined the work of all the various mocha brewers into rich iced mocha.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Although most people were focused on chocolate, the residents of Holtburg, a town known for rampant cattle mutilations, fried up a slab of Bessie MCMLXII and served her on a bun, thus adding the "Holtburger" to Dereth's dietary lexicon. In other news of culinary horror, a shadowy figure known only as "The Sausage King of Dereth" skulked in the darkest corners of Fort Tethana, combining all manner of unsavory things into links of something that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike meat. He was last seen pulling on a pair of steel-toed boots and wandering into the desert, muttering, "Fools! I'll destroy them all!"


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At the end of the month, an oppressive silence fell over the hills and vales of Dereth. The world held its breath, and wondered . . .


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
        General History of Dereth Vol. X
                    Thistledown, 11 P.Y.
                     "Taste of Twilight"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
On the dawn of the 8th of Thistledown, Isparians awoke to find the world turned upside down.

Overnight, the fearsome Shadow Spires had descended on Tufa and Cragstone. Tufa, as usual bereft of defenders, was utterly annihilated by titanic blasts from the Spires. A blackened crater filled with deadly epon mist was all that remained of the town. The once-tranquil waters of the oasis now thundered into the crater via a waterfall.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A small patrol of Shadows was discovered among the charred remains of the buildings. While they briefly controlled the town, help arrived as the news spread, and the Enemy was quickly suppressed. Among the Shadows was a strange and unsettling creature that was dubbed a "grievver." This eyeless, delicate looking insect proved swift and deadly in combat, attacking with acidic breath and resisting the arcane arts. It was but the first; numerous other encounters with grievvers were reported, often in the company of Shadows.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Cragstone might have shared Tufa's fate, but for the timely arrival of a pair of enigmatic heroes. Witnesses reported that a skilled archeress and a mage dressed in white repulsed the approaching spires, destroying one in a massive explosion that carved a new crater bay into shoreline of the River Prosper. Seemingly in retaliation, the Shadow Spires moved northeast to devastate the prosperous town of Arwic, inflicting horrific casualties and disrupting the entire region.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
As the afternoon wore on, more reports came in of previously unseen species wandering the landscape. Huge and mighty ursuin became the first non-human species to arrive from Ispar. Bizarre niffis - levitating half-squid, half-shellfish - bobbed gently along the shores and desert sands. The scholars of Cragstone, after recovering from the terror of the night before, hypothesized that these new species arrived through some form of damage done to portalspace by the Shadow Spires' blasts. In the past, the actions of the howling monstrosities had displayed an alarming tendency to cause new ruptures between the planes.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
When the first night after the catastrophic attacks fell, a more subtle horror was discovered. The stars and moons had disappeared. In their place, strange fires chewed the sky. Whether the astronomical bodies had been moved, destroyed, or somehow occluded could not be discerned. The shooting stars seen the previous month continued to fall, though. Indeed, their speed and numbers only increased.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In the next few days, patrols discovered several previously uncharted rings of standing menhir stones, all of which hummed with growing power. A nervous watch was kept on these locations, and pickets reported frequent contact with both Shadows and Undead.

Finally, portals opened at all the rings, allowing access to three large, previously undiscovered dungeons. The first, Fenmalain, was littered with the corpses of Shadows and undead. Exploratory parties moved cautiously throughout the halls, encountering isolated groups of weak


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Shadows and undead, apparently the survivors of a massive battle a few hours before. Large companies of Shadows infested the second dungeon, Caulnalain. They appeared to be working at the behest of Isin Dule, for they staunchly defended the facility. The last, Shendolain, was thick with powerful undead from the Direlands castle of Chalicmere and Aerlinthe island. Casualties at this dungeon were horrific.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At the bottom of each facility lay a single towering obsidian obelisk. For a brief time, these baffled the weary and bloodied adventurers. Then, it was realized that the keys to these "gates" could likely be recovered from the enemies of humanity. Shadow Children indeed surrendered the keys to Fenmalain, Lieutenants those to Caulnalain, and the fearsome Grievvers yielded the way into the deeps of Shendolain.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At the heart of each dungeon lay a terrible secret - each held safe one piece of the Yalaini Mage Council's crystal array, in which was bound the dread Hopeslayer, Bael'Zharon. The children of Ispar attacked each in turn, and, in turn, each fell. Each crystal shattered and toppled, and massive waves of energy flowed across the face of Dereth. Some claimed to hear black laughter.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Not all the news was quite so grim: Dereth's native verdalim, berimphur, and hennacin plants came into season. Alchemists and cooks were soon working round the clock to fulfill requests for the green, yellow, and red dyes that could be made from the plants' ground and boiled pulp. Many turned a tidy profit at the task, assisted by improved trade laws drafted by the sages of Hebian-to. The rare dyeing disasters were a sight to pain the eyes, although some, inexplicably, appreciated the eyecatching results. These outcasts of fashion were politely tolerated in most towns, but a few found themselves ducking under hurled mugs and flatware.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
At the conclusion of Thistledown, the thin strand of a single remaining Soul Crystal suspended the fate of the world. Bael'Zharon's power waxed.

. . . and in the blackened rubble of Tufa, eight shattered stones, all but forgotten in the chaos, sputtered their magical powers back into the dead earth.

Something began to unravel.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
        General History of Dereth Vol. XI
                    Harvestgain, 11 P.Y.
                     "Hollow Victory"








       Jaiph Rainshadow of Cragstone, ed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The night skies cleared. Stars flickered to life in the void. The glowering volcanic face of Rez'arel and pale, mysterious Alb'arel rose again in their courses.

Humanity began to rebuild after the violence of the previous month, even as the Shadow Spires that had wrought the destruction began to dig themselves back into the earth whence they had come. In Arwic, the Environmental Defense League respectfully buried the smoldering remains town's beloved heifer, Sally. In Tufa, the residents stoically rebuilt their shops on ledges around the rim of the crater.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Tufa's scribe left to join Fazyad ibn Raymar's expedition into the cool grottos of Xarabydun. Explorers had recently discovered this network of caves under the sands between Al-Arqas and Khayyaban. The facility was a former Empyrean archive. The scholars of Zaikhal carted thousands of books out of the lower caves for study. The first fruits of their research were the so-called "peas," a Yalaini method of storing magic reagents in a compact form. Ibn Raymar's party colonized the upper caves, though the lower regions remained dark and overrun by creatures. Rumor held that a valuable aid to enchanters could be found in the lower


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
tunnels, but the entrance was magically forbidden to the elite of Dereth.

While the Shadows remained quiet, other races hostile to humanity were not. Explorers venturing into the rugged Linvak Mountains were stunned to find an enormous fortress under construction by Lugians. Some mages feared that its massive walls must be made of chorizite, and began wailing to their respective gods that the structure be struck down by one of the increasingly rare shooting stars.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Sir Candeth Martine, an Explorer of the Dereth Exploration Society, disappeared into the Blackmire Swamp on a mission to study the habits of Mosswarts. Would-be rescuers discerned that a rival tribe of Banderlings had evicted Martine's band. The trail of the refugees was followed as far west as Uziz. Unfortunately, Sir Martine seemed to have been abducted by some other group at that point, for only his journal was found among the Mosswarts. By the end of the month, no further clues to his location had been found. 


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
In the Direlands, portals to a "Floating City" began to appear and disappear at random. This structure, constructed within the wilds of portalspace, drifted wantonly through that strange violet-lit realm. Notes dropped throughout the massive structure proved that at least one Isparian, bombastic explorer Alatar Locke, has wandered the dusty corridors previously. He opined that the city had been built at the height of the Seaborne Empire of Yalain, when portal magic was "in vogue." In time, its enchantments lost potency. The city was cast adrift, fading in and out of contact with the world of Auberean over the millennia.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Perhaps in response to the disquieting news coming from all quarters of Dereth, a festive atmosphere infected the towns. On Ispar, Harvestgain was, naturally enough, the month of the harvest. Perhaps because of the abundance of scarecrows back home, some of the homely straw men found their way through the vagaries of portalspace. Some reported animated scarecrows harassing travelers, but no reliable witnesses could be found. These tales were dismissed as the work of the kegs barkeeps had rolled out for the harvest festival.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
There was a benefit to the arrival of the scarecrows, however. In their empty heads were seeds that allowed Isparian pumpkins to be grown in Dereth. The traditional autumn foods of pumpkin soup and pie soon graced dinner tables. In keeping with Aluvian custom, some of the pulpy round fruits had demonic faces carved into them. Superstition held that these faces would ward off evil. The Shadows did not seem impressed.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
After months of work, the largely ignored tailors of Dereth began to sell exquisitely designed dresses, ensuring that they would occasionally be able to feed their families. An enterprising Aluvian leathercrafter decided to alter her Kireth gown to allow a bit more . . . ventilation. She offered her skills as a seamstress to others at no charge. To her considerable surprise, she found herself beset both by conservatives, who claimed that the cut of the dress would adversely affect the moral fortitude of Isparians, and liberals, who claimed the cut of the dress denigrated the Aluvian goddess trinity and Queen Elysa Strathelar.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The master crafters Alexander the Deft, Janda Sulifiya, and Tsua Kagemata offered to create masks from the heads of Banderlings, Skeletons, Drudges, Tuskers, and Mosswarts. To the alarm of Ayan Baqur's residents, a second Virindi, calling itself Leopold, floated into town one afternoon. It drifted aimlessly around the town, observing the passers-by closely and asking many questions. Leopold, as it turned out, was also a mask-maker of sorts.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Leopold was hardly the most worrisome Virindi of the month. The underground redoubts of Sotiris and Tumideon were discovered in the wastes of the Obsidian Plain. In those inhospitable halls, the enigmatic creatures created "Hollow Minions." These artificial lifeforms vaguely resembled scarecrows, but were animated with malicious intent and partially constructed from chorizite ore. They proved highly resistant to magic, and could punch through magical armors with their hollow fists.


author_Name: Jaiph Rainshadow
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
A final ill wind blew through the Direlands during Harvestgain . . . In a small cave by the coast, one of Dereth's most benign creatures acquired a hideous strength, heretofore unseen in the world. The time of Pookie had come . . . and by the bodies began to pile up like cordwood.


author_Name: MacNiall the Unruled
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Greetings, cousin!

I thought I'd never see you again after our groups got split up, that first night of freedom. But I hear that you and your people have prospered, and have a big castle in the north to call home. Not bad! For our part, Onda Nakoza and I found ourselves on a hot and humid island, south of the mainland. 'Tis not a bad place, except for the occasional Mosswart raid. I hope everyone there is doing right. Give Jourgenson a punch in the jaw for me, for old times' sake.


author_Name: MacNiall the Unruled
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Oh, and find a good reward for the courier of this letter, if you can. Maybe one of the blade hilts you were working on. Did you ever finish that up? It was a fine idea, to balance a blade for extra strikes.

Your cousin,
MacNiall


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Upon this marker may be found the names of the known defenders of the Shard of the Herald, henceforth to be honorably known as The Vigilant. Throughout the month of Leafcull, Portal Year 11, these individuals defended the final Soul Crystal in defiance of the Shadows and their human servants. Regardless of the hour or other demands on their time, they kept their vigil; a flame to keep the night at bay.

There were others who assisted in this noble stand against the darkness; their names are unfortunately lost in the mist of time and memory. Bow your heads, and honor them.


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
                      ~ The Monarchs~

                                Amid
                            Black Jack
                       Drexel Fisthand
                               Fafhrd
                            Laurianna
                      Loren Silvercloak
                       Matt the Terrific
                           Mythrandia
                     Tim the Enchantor
                       Wren the Blurry


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Acex
Aelynn
Alianna
Alphalpha's New Pal
Anarion
Anit
Archmage Rajene
Aresa
Ari Magnus
Ayhana
Blade of Death
Burningman
Bystan
Calissa
Cecil the Wise
Chaqella


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Chaton Gato
Child of the Dark
Clan Arrem
Corwin of Chaos
Crispian
Curse Razorwind
Cybelle
Darken Rynsun
Dart
Daven
DeMogoblin
Dergan
Doom Slayer
Druuna
Eaglet the Mage
Edlund


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Fiyo
Flick-Doh
Funshine Bear
Gazra
Gemma
Gilgalad
Goldry Bluszco
Grandmasta Leo
Hwang Sung Kyung
Ice Mage
Irony
Jonch
Kal'el
Kalen the Mighty
Kaliel
Kay'l


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Keth al-Sheth
Killerwolf
Kiyomori
Krimzon
Legacy
Life
Lifter
Low Fat
Luck
Mallor
Metsanhaltia
Mitsi
Nevyn
Ney
Orion Haspard
Osian


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Othinn
Portent
Pos the Clumsy
Rand of Rheny
Rapture
Reapist
Richter
Ryathwulf
Rystlwulf
Sacred Swift
Samina Danka
Scampi Two
Schindler
Seal
Shadow Death
Shanra


author_Name: The Vigilant
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
Shisho
Shob Sr
Slash the Warlock
Solaran
Sol Wrath
Steiner
Stratus
Styx
Styx Fath
Sunji
Svperstar
Talley
Tayway
Teck II
Tripp
Uber Caq


author_Name: Scribe Boushra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
The following is a transcribed missive that was sent to Vizier Asil, Master of Records of the Zharalim.  His eminence, in his knowledge, has decreed that certain elements of the original missive are not ready to be received by the general populace at this time.  The following has been released however, in hopes that the explorers of Dereth will be able to make sense of this strange creature/thing Jaali has discovered.


author_Name: Scribe Boushra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"It has been five days since my departure from Zaikhal.  I have noticed many strange things as I have journeyed to the north, but none as strange as my most recent discovery.  While traveling through northern Osteth on my mission, I happened upon a small camp of Sayathar." (Directly translated as "Still Ones".  Though not a commonly known phrase, it has recently experienced a revival due to the massive resurgence of anti-undead sentiment amongst the new Zharalim)


author_Name: Scribe Boushra
author_Account: prewritten
page_Text:
"Due to our small numbers, we avoided direct confrontation, and instead listened in on them using the arts taught by the Shagar Zharala.  These Sayathar referred to themselves as the Children of Dericost, and spoke of the final signs of their time.  Specifically, they talked of their power being "returned" to the world, and how their Final Turning is upon them."


