Our caravan moved through Haven, towards the Restless Troll, where the owner of the caravan waited. The famous adventurer's tavern turned out to be a five-storey pyramid. Inside, the tavern was pretty packed but strangely quiet. For at one table was a group of Blood Elves. One of them was dancing to the music and cracking jokes obviously only he could laugh about. He stopped when he saw Jasper and greeted him like an old friend asking him if he had brought everything. Jasper's answer was short, he didn't seem to like the Blood Elf very much.
We had settled down when we noticed Zin and his group! The
people who had taken Damoquaq, B'ok's sword from us. B'ok
confronted them at once but was only laughed at. I didn't get the
rest of what happened, because the Blood Elf who had danced
before came up to me and asked me,
"Where do you have these robes from?" - "This is
none of your concern," I replied. - "I think it is,
because I made them".
I knew that the robes had come out of Wyrm Wood before the
Scourge so I asked him what their name was. He tipped his finger
in the puddle of blood which had formed on the table where he was
standing and wrote the name on the table. It turned out that
Fafedriel had given the robes to his student Talsferdin, my
mentor, who had given them to me. He didn't seem to be happy
about a dwarf having his robes and when he left the table, he
said "I will have an eye on you".
His companions got up and he twirled his gnarled staff in front
of him. A mist formed around him which soon formed a portal to
Astral Space, they went through and the portal closed. At that
moment, I felt all my spell matrices shatter!
Feeling dizzy, I made my way to my room, when Tyla, a female
Troll and the owner of the tavern asked me if I was alright. I
told her that she wouldn't be able to help me reform my matrices.
She said, "but maybe I can help you with that Spirit of the
Dead that's following you". And indeed I sensed the presence
of a spirit in my vicinity. Tyla told me to visit Heraklides in
his tower, he would be able to help. I thanked her and went to my
room.
The next morning, I tried to reform the spell matrix, which succeeded. However, as soon as it had reformed, it shattered again. This was a serious problem so I decided to follow Tyla's advice and visit Heraklides in his tower. The obelisk was guarded by a group of spirits between the fence and the building itself. After talking to the spirit guarding the gate, I was shown in. Heraklides was indeed able to help me and after a short discussion and sorting out of payment and services he also agreed to train me to become Fifth Circle.
The group spent the next two weeks training. B'ok took on the second Discipline of Elementalist and thanks to Andrea's grimoire flute, she already had a good range of spells available. Blackmane continued his training as Warrior with Jasper.
One day, I was on my way back to the Restless Troll,
I saw Darrin, that human with the scale, I had seen in my vision.
I followed him into Torgak's where he bought equipment and
provisions for about 50 people. I continued following him. He met
with a large group of people, all wearing the same badges as
Darrin. They soon went off out of Haven, along the wall towards
Parlainth. To be able to follow them a little closer, I summoned
a Blood Servitor and sent it after them. When the jungle
became to thick, they butchered their mules, packed the meat and
continued. Sometimes they were attacked by wild animals but
didn't seem to mind very much. To my surprise, they also
butchered their fallen comrades and took the flesh with them.
Cannibals? Finally the went through a breach in the Wall into
Parlainth, into the area known as The Vaults. When they
entered the huge pyramid, my spell expired.
Back in Haven, I did some research and found out that The Vaults
were controlled by a group of name-givers called The
Unforgivables. It is rumored that they work for Charcoalgrin, a
Great Dragon living in Parlainth who is said to be corrupted or
Horror-touched.
Back at the Restless Troll that night, I mentioned what I had
seen and also told the rest of the caravan present, what had
happended back on the road when I had had my vision.
Quinton then told us the story of The Book of Scales, a
magical book written on the scales of a dragon, believed to
contain great knowledge about the Horrors and their powers. It is
also said to be Horror-marked and utterly corrupted and that
everyone who comes into possession on even one of the scales will
go completely insane
[OOC: See Legends of Earthdawn, Vol 1]
After Quinton had ended his story which had half of the tavern
fall silent and listen in awe (he indeed is a good storyteller)
two people got up from a table in a corner and left quickly.
Nevkin noticed them wearing the badges of The Unforgivables.
Thanks to Nevkin's talents we were able to follow them to a
breach in the Parlainth wall which led into the Twists. We
decided that following them into their territory, unprepared as
we were, was not a good idea so we went back to the Troll.
There we just arrived in time to hear Torgak make the announcement that recently a lot of adventurers who had gone into Parlainth on the Laneways, had not come back. Most recently, a group of Ork Scorchers went in to investigate and did not succeed. Torgak offered anyone who could bring light into this and possibly eliminate the source a reward of 5000 silver pieces worth of credit at the Restless Troll and Torgak's Supplies.
That sounded like a good reason for us to go into Parlainth and we decided to take on Torgak's offer ...
Early next morning we took off: Nevkin, Blackmane, B'ok, four former employess from the caravan, the Ork Wizard Devlin, the Human Troubadour Quinton, Glory, the Elf Woodsman and Thaddeus, the Human Cavalryman. We were also joined by Spirit Wind, a Human Warrior who Nevkin trained to become a Scout.
After passing the great gate into Parlainth and paying our fee we were on the southeast laneway. In the distance we could see the great pyramid in the center of Parlainth with the Screaming Mountain on top. The laneway was paved with huge flagstones and flanked by 10ft walls on which were the remains (feet) of huge statues. The walls had crumpled now and then and so had the laneway. Through the holes one could see the network of tunnels below leading to The Smalls in the east and The Twists in the west.
Further on we came across an area where a big section of the laneway, the wall and also the adjacent building in The Smalls had been destroyed. Below lay a pile of bodies, the most recent of them being of Orks, Thundra Beasts and horses, all partly devoured. Something or somebody was lurching down there. I sensed that Undead had been here recently. Ghouls, perhaps?
Carefully, we made our way around the hole in the ground and
continued.
Then, a strange mist or fog started forming in front of us. Out
of the fog, figures in tattered clothes armed with rusted swords,
clubs and broken bits [OOC: GM: glowing undead feces smeared
all over them] came lurching towards us ...
I could not detect the presence of undead, although those figures
seemed similar. I now know that these were Foul Folk, corrupted
name-givers "living" in The Vaults of Parlainth.
The fight against those creatures had just started, when four
mounted figures emerged from the fog. The undead riders were
humanoid, their flesh mummified and drawn tight over their bones.
They were sitting on pale undead horses with red glowing eyes,
fog streaming from their nostrils. B'ok cast a spell, and the fog
started glowing. Perhaps she had something else in mind?
Those of us with long range spells concentrated their efforts on
the new arrivals and had to pay. They used a power on us, which I
believe is called Cursed Luck, because that's what
happened. It became increasingly difficult to cast spells
successfully, it was as if part of the magic flowing into a
talent was drained away [OOC: the highest die result was
reduced to 1]. I managed nevertheless to loose a few Astral
Spears using my recently created Blood Matrix (Empowering the
matrix with Life Magic, I was able to cast the Spear without
having to weave a thread to it).
Again, Nevkin was our best fighter. Without fear, he sprinted up
to one of the riders, yanked him down from his saddle and lobbed
his head cleanly off. Moments later, another rider fell from one
of Nevkin's powerful axe blows. A pile of whitish ash was all
that remained.
The remaining riders retreated into the fog and the Foul People
scattered away. After the fog had cleared, the riders were gone.
When they would not return after some time we decided to go back
to Haven and report to Torgak.
On our way back we were just able to avoid the ghouls who had clambered out of the hole towards the dead bodies of the Foul People we had managed to slay.
Back in Haven, we were greeted by Zembeck, our Windling,
Meloniel, the thief who had left the Grim Legion, and Rathaan,
Icewing's messenger. They joined us at the Restless Troll.
There we reported to Torgak who asked us to enter Parlainth again
on the next day and if we weren't attacked then, he would be
convinced that the danger had gone.
The mysterious Elf Rathaan invited us to dinner and later gave
us a message from Icewing who asked for our help. However, the
information he was willing to give us was very vague:
We were warned that Zin and his group, and especially Derek, were
not what they seemed. Derek had been working with factors from
within Parlainth, who Icewing could not target, as he is not
allowed to take actions against any one of his kind. We were to
find out what Derek was working on and bring that item to
Icewing. Rathaan was unable or, more likely, unwilling to tell us
what we were supposed to look for. He said that a war would
start, if he told us any more.
He also told us that the Therans were refitting one of their
ancient behemoths, a flying city, in a plan to send this towards
Barsaive. To prevent this that said (or rather not said) item had
to be found.
We accompanied Rathaan out of Haven where he thrust his staff
into the ground, changed into a drake and took off, leaving his
staff behind which B'ok took.
On the next morning, we again entered the Laneways of
Parlainth.
At the hole, Thaddeus' horse suddenly stopped and cried out, the
Cavalryman hardly able to control it. Apparently, it had sprung
one of those old traps and a metal spike had embedded itself in
its hoof.
Then we heard the chittering. A couple of small, strange
creatures were sitting on top of the wall. They had insect-like
hair and spindly arms and legs. The tops of their skulls was
missing and they fingered their open brains. As Nevkin ran
towards the wall the jumped off to the other side, chittering
like mad. Scurriers, obviously, minor horrors native to
Parlainth, who are known for resetting old traps and feeding on
the pain caused.
Nevkin, who had meanwhile started to climb the wall, stopped half
way. He had sprung a trap, and didn't want to let go of the brick
he had used as a handhold and which had moved with a click. With
Zembeck's help standing on the brick, they were able to release
the trap harmlessly. Four bricks shot out of the wall with enough
force that would have sent Nevkin flying into the hole...
We passed the area without incident where the fog had appeared the day before and continued on. The further we got, the clearer we could see the Screaming Fountain on top of the central pyramid, blood shooting from the spouts. There were three remaining statues on top of the pyramid, the statues of the Mad Passions. The others had crumbled to dust. The howling noise and the smell of blood coming from the fountain became more intense every minute.
At the foot of the pyramid, a group of ten people moved along, the most prominent of them a huge Ogre, taller than a Troll and a human female in blue robes. Four of them were carrying a huge mirror depicting a battle scene. They all were wearing clay badges - Unforgivables.
As we approached the ogre demanded that we return or pay money
for getting past. We refused, and the human female in the blue
robes started waving her hands about in the air, obviously
weaving. We prepared for combat. Thaddeus' horse suddenly jerked
against the wall - Bone Dance! A hectic fight ensued,
Spirit Wind and Blackmane quickly knocking down the Nethermancer,
the others closing in on the ogre and the other Unforgivables. I
hit the Ogre with an Astral Spear and his Wood Skin disappeared.
Suddenly, time seemed to move strangely around the Ogre, he
flickered and stood there without a cut on his body as he had
been before. He lifted his huge flail and crushed Blackmane to
the ground with it. My third Astral Spear felled the Ogre, he
crashed to the ground, flickered again and stood up, unharmed!
The Ogre jumped over the wall and the others who were still
standing either fled or surrendered.
This gave us time to look at the mirror. On it was the painting of a battle scene: Six trolls without horns, one of them in wizard's robes fighting a glowing humanoid figure with six arms. The Trolls showed the effects of powerful spells like Skin Shift and Onion Skin. There was only one Troll, a Warrior, by the looks of it, who reached out for an intricate staff floating in the air. I remembered reading about that staff in that journal I had found. It had to be the Staff of the Acolytes!
An astral examination of the mirror revealed that it was definitely magical in nature, but not a thread item. Curiously, the Troll that reached for the staff still had a pattern, as if frozen.
There was movement down the lane. The Ogre was coming back, a large group of Unforgivables, including two griffins at his side. Before anyone could react, Blackmane shattered the mirror with his warhammer and - we could not believe our eyes - a Troll without horns fell out. We quickly grabbed him and the Nethermancer, who Blackmane had knocked unconscious, and made our way back to Haven as fast as we could.
Back at the Restless Troll, Torgak listened to our report and granted us our reward, 5,000 silvers worth of credit at the tavern or Torgak's Supplies.
At our quarters we noticed that the Nethermancer had died from her wounds. Blackmane's blow to her head had been a bit too heavy, after all. I guess such things happen when you think with your muscles instead of your brains... The body was disposed of over the wall.
Meanwhile the Troll had regained consciousness. He asked where
he was and appeared to be shocked. When he told his story, we
knew why.
His name was Golrath, a member of a group of Trolls who had
ventured into the Western Catacombs in the year 1498! One of them
had been a Theran Wizard called Chin-Kran. They had been on a
quest to find the Staff of the Acolytes, using a map
made by an Illusionist called Faker, whose grimoire and magical
treatise I had found in Throal. Coincidence or Fate? They had
found the Staff guarded by six armed humanoid who fought them
with powerful spells. The last thing Golrath remembered was that
he reached for the staff ...
Later, Nevkin showed me an odd glass ball he had found in the Nethermancer's possessions. A detailed examination showed it to be some kind of spell store. From what I could see, a complete spell was trapped inside that ball. If someone would shatter that ball, the spell would be cast. I dubbed the artifact a Spell Bomb and gave it back to Nevkin.
We also found out that the Ogre was no ordinary Ogre but an
Ogre Twin, a being with a copy of itself living in Astral Space.
These copies can change between Astral and Real Space in an
instant. That was what we had seen.
His name was Deederbum, one of Charcoalgrin's top lieutenants.
Later, Quinton came with news which would change our future:
Charcoalgrin had put a bounty on our heads. Anyone who could
deliver members of our group, in particular Nevkin and Blackmane,
would be given permission to take one item out of her hoard.
Powerful knocks could be heard from the door. Torgak was outside in full gear, weapons, crystal plate armor and all. He demanded that we left Haven by sundown or solved that problem by other means. He said, he wanted to keep the peace i Haven and that would not be possible with a group with that high a bounty on their heads. The best thing we could do, he said, was to go to Parlainth, to the Smalls and hide there until the dust had cleared. He'd give us clear passage to Torgak's supplies, we could buy what we needed using our credit. He also assured us that he would not open the gates to Parlainth for anybody until the next day.
After a lengthy discussion among ourselves we agreed on taking Torgak up on his offer. Outside, an army waited, followers of Torgak. They escorted us to Torgak's supplies where we bought equipment, especially healing aids and rations, using our credit and personal fortune.
When dusk fell, we were escorted to the gates. Zin's group was there, watching us, cheering and leering.
When the gates fell shut behind us, it somehow sounded final.
We again passed the hole in the laneway and looked for a
breach in the wall that was big enough to allow a horse and a
Troll through.
The Smalls consisted of small one-storey houses, separated from
each other by laneways 5 ft wide. Most of the houses had no roof
and had one big, two smaller rooms and what used to be a kitchen.
After a while we came to an open space which looked like to have been a park. Skeletons of name-givers were sitting or lying here and there. My Nethermancer senses soon told me that there were many spirits around. Those spirits of the Dead screamed in agony. I soon found out that they were still chained to the remains of their former bodies and could not leave to the Spirit World. In other circumstances and at another location I would have tried to free those spirits but this takes a long time and a lot of concentration which we could not afford in our situation. We had to find a place to hide quickly.
Glory and Nevkin started experimenting with their talents. They tried to hide our tracks. Not our mundane tracks like footprints, that was rather easy, but the astral imprints every being leaves behind and can be read by any Beastmaster or Scout with the Tracking talent. They soon came up with something. By using Life Magic, they were able to 'enchant' us so that we would not leave prints behind. We quickly moved out of the area and further into the unknown world of the Smalls ...
Nevkin's Notes II - The Winds of Freedom sweep through Parlainth
Somehow, things had not gone quite according to plan. Perhaps, the lack of a plan in the first place had not helped. Parlainth is where adventurers go to become truly famous, truly wealthy. Parlainth sorts the wheat from the chaff. Unfortunately, the chaff usually ended up dead and we were amongst the chaff.
From what we had learned, the Unforgivables seemed to be working with Charcoalgrin and when Rathan informed us they had something Icewing needed it put them and us on the opposing sides. So, when we saw a group of Unforgivables refusing us permission to reach the end of the lane-way I have to admit I was keen for a fight. They had this rather interesting mirror with a picture etched onto it and they could have had all sorts of information.
The Unforgivable nethermancer started weaving and before I could change my mind about fighting them there was a battle going on. It was quick and confusing and bloody, like our fights tend to be. We won although this peculiar giant Ogre escaped. It seemed to be able to regenerate or blink in and out of existence - I do not understand it, I admit.
The biggest problem was when Blackmane tried to knock the female nethermancer unconscious. Never one to be delicate, Blackmane half caved her skull in. When more Unforgivables appeared we decided to take our gains and depart. The mirror was too cumbersome and was smashed, although it would have looked rather good in my house. There's a wall which needs a picture or ...
Ah, I digress. When the mirror was smashed a troll from the picture engraved on it came to life. We took the unconscious necromancer and returned to the safety of the aptly named Haven. The Necromancer died and it was not long before we found out we had gone from being knee-deep in problems to over our heads. The nethermancer was dead. This would have been less of a problem if she had not been being tutored by Charcoalgrin herself. The dragon put a bounty on our heads - whoever brought us to her could have one item from her treasure trove. A dragon in the middle of Parlainth I'm sure she would not have collected anything worth having over the centuries.
The troll was revived and we learned he was called Golrath. Feeling somewhat obligated to us for freeing him from being incarcerated within the mirror for nine years. We pointed out this was not an ideal time to join us but this did not bother him. He is an Outcast Warrior and they tend to be a bit of an odd bunch.
Torgath, the owner/dictator/authority in Haven (depending on your point of view) was actually generous with us. Although he ran us out of town he allowed us to buy at discounted rates from his store and gave us until nightfall. If I was in his position I would probably done the same - we had become the target for anyone prepared to kill for bounty and the collateral damage to Haven could well have been significant.
We spent like there was no tomorrow. I was able to purchase a pair of Gauntlets of Strength, we needed to really equip ourselves if we were to have any chance of staying alive. We argued about what to do - try to get back to Throal, wait by the gates and ambush anyone who came through, visit Charcoalgrin and beg forgiveness. The latter was beginning to gain sway - B'ok gave an impassioned speech for clearing the death sentence from us. It was Spiritwind who persuaded us to survive in Parlainth first and hope to gain some sort of bargaining point. I cannot help feeling we are delaying the inevitable but, on the other hand, I am not in a hurry to visit an infuriated dragon. Further, I cannot see Blackmane going down on his knees and begging.
Parlainth. A hero is judged by his enemies so why am I not feeling heroic? Down the lane-way we went. Torgath had kindly agreed to look after Red - my Trojain. The same is true of the others and their mounts. It could by argued he will get him - and the other mounts - if we die but we would have had to leave them behind, anyway. There is one exception on the mount front - Thadeus, as a cavalryman still has his but he can manoeuvre far better than the rest of us.
Still unsure of where to go or what to do we wandered into the Smalls. At a brief rest point we tried to obscure our tracks from the Tracking talent but this proved painful and difficult and I do not intend to do it often. Eventually, we decided to rest by a small park. Parks in Parlainth are strange affairs. The foliage seemed to move and there were Fly-trap plants which looked capable of trying to eat Name-Givers. There was a decaying park bench with a pair of skeletons sat on it as though watching the plants for eternity. It was here that we heard the sound of a scuffle.
Blackmane, B'ok, Golrath, Zembeck and myself went to investigate. I saw the outline of several figures with my heat sense and decided to climb in through an open window. Blackmane and the others were later angry that I had not informed them what I was doing nor what I had observed - I suppose they have a point. There appeared to be four ghouls and two leaders who were stood over a rather fetching female dwarf. Someone opened the front door and battle was soon joined. Gorath took a viscous, piercing blow to the groin and was severely injured - he limped back towards the main section of the party pursued by a ghoul. Zembeck swooped in and nearly decapitated one of the leaders and I finished it off as I followed into the room through a collapsed section of the wall. The ghouls were soon despatched and the dwarf rescued. Golrath had used Fire Blood on himself, which made quite a sight given his injury.
In the aftermath, there were injuries to attend to and we checked the ghoul bodies for valuables. While we were distracted the dwarf ran away. We went to the next house and prepared to spend the night - I was glad for the opportunity to heal the significant amounts of strain I had taken. It was about an hour later - still late evening when I noticed a note pushed through our door. Essentially, it told us not to stay in the building as this area belonged to the Grey Wolves.
With some reluctance we decided to move on. Spiritwind thought it would be a good idea to Track whoever had left the note - presumably the dwarf we rescued. We agreed and eventually she hailed us. She introduced herself as Tatterdemalean -Tats for short - and when asked if there was anywhere safe (most of Parlainth 'belongs' to various groups) she mentioned a small mansion. It was 'safe' because no-one dared go into it. Despite this it was our best option and we went there.
Apparently it was home to a Spectral Dancer. I got the impression this was not a dancer you would take to a ball.
Thadeus, Blackmane, Melonial, Zembeck and Spiritwind stayed by the door, guarding our escape route, while we went exploring. The first room held various books on shelves and a few statues. I was in the process of putting one into my backpack when B'ok objected - rather strongly - and I had to put it back. B'ok of all people! I do not see the problem but she seemed to think it was wrong to rob the living undead and had to wait until they were dead undead, something like that.
The puff-ball, which accompanies us, stayed in that room and I stayed to try to take it to those at the door, while it had settled ina glass, but it wanted to stay in the room with the books and statues. It probably knew something we did not. I gave up and joined the others who had progressed to the kitchen via a small hallway. In a cupboard were neatly piled parts of Name-givers, a disturbing sight.
We went upstairs and around a landing at the top were several doors. The first one was locked so Blackmane forced it. Inside was a peculiar array of plants, like an indoor greenhouse. All the plants were wilting and brown. The whole house seemed to be filled with death. Although there was a doorway at the far end we decided to go back to the landing.
An ethereal dwarf appeared across the landing from us, coalescing from lights and wearing immaculate garb, albeit fashionable centuries ago.
And then the music began to play.
To be continued ...