Hedrachi's blog

DitL of Cerenas, Shaloren Anorithil

This is my newest more-or-less successful character who made it to the East and hasn't perma-died yet, an Anorithil this time around.

1st Wintertide, Year 875 of the Isolation
It's been a while since I've had much to write about here, but given my most recent conversation with Lady Aeryn, I feel it would be prudent to pen my thoughts, for those that might come after me. Having conceded this, Lady Aeryn has deemed that I be Zemekkys' latest mountain rat... err, volunteer to secure aid from the peoples of "Maj'Eyal," a supposed land of "free people" far to the West. As the youngest and least senior member of the Anorithil left here in Sunwall, I have little say in the matter. If this "Maj'Eyal" exists, why would they have forgotten us centuries ago? I was not yet borne into this world, being one of the first of the children birthed in the East, but having lived through centuries of orc attacks, you would think these "free people" would wonder where the orcs attacking them were coming from. Alas, I must stop now; the dotard's knocking on my door.

2nd Wintertide, Year 122 of the Age of Ascendancy
Well, how rude! I've never been so insulted in the entirety of my life, and I've encountered some downright vulgar orcs, too! I was deposited within sight of the Allied Kingdom's capitol, (A fortress of such a scale even a blind orc could see. It is a wonder it still stands with all the orc attacks that go on. But I digress.) and I ask for an audience with the leader of the fortress from the city gatehouse garrison. The brutes took one look at the sun-and-moon tattoo upon my brow, and immediately started tittering amongst themselves, as though privy to some joke. One even rolled his eyes and said, "By Telos' bedevilled spirit, another one." The commander took me aside and instructed me to make haste for the capitol of "my people," Elvala. He even drew a crude map and pointed out important landmarks, in a voice one uses to instruct children! Does he take me for a fool?! As a side note, he also pointed out the "proper" calendar year name, so to better relate to any who find this diary should I perish.

7th Allure, Year 122 of the Age of Ascendancy
Well, I made it to Elvala, but apparently none of the other elves the dotard sent through his farportal made it this far, as I was the first Anorithil any had seen. Most of the guards were old when I was born, so the stories of Maj'Eyal of old (which I had assumed until now were bedtime stories or stories told to ensure children behaved properly) were enough to grant me an audience with the ruling council. One of the more senior members was delighted to hear his brother still lived (my father, of all people), but in private he told me a dreadful truth of the Shaloren: the people of Maj'Eyal have never fully forgiven my people for causing the Spellblaze, to the point of rather evil people called "the Ziguranth" who are said to wear necklaces of elven ears making raids on Elvala. He pointed out that a single person, no matter how lowly, can always be destined for great things, and to test my mettle, he shared with me two secrets the council has been trying to keep from the rest of Elvala and Maj'Eyal in general: One, there are a group of "Rhaloren" elves who practice necromancy and blood magic -forbidden in the East, supposedly the orcs were once elves who dabbled too deeply in these schools- hiding in an abandoned fortress to the northwest; and two, there is a cave to the northeast where a farportal was rumoured to have been, in the days before the Spellblaze. In the hopes of returning with the bad news, I have opted to go to the farportal cavern.

23d Regrowth, Year 122 of the Age of Ascendancy
"Where a farportal was rumored to have been", indeed! Upon entry to the cavern, I find a note left by some other elf. The Spellblaze originated in that cavern, and the farportal (if it still exists) is likely buried under tonnes of rock. Imagine my great surprise when I get back to Elvala that my uncle does not have time to see me. Pah. Politics. I did however encounter the strangest things I had ever seen, though: crystals, moving about as though with a mage's "Phase Door" spell, hurling spells about with eerie precision. There were many colours, even one that seemed to be coloured as light through a prism, and from it a piece fell. As near as I can ascertain it appears to focus arcane energies upon anything it is fastened to, though I have nothing suitable to test this upon. That last red crystal I encountered sent me running, with the sore realisation that my skills might be lacking. I overheard one of the guards saying an "arena" challenge was going on near Derth, so I have elected to find my way to Derth and apply myself to that challenge.

54th Pyre, Year 122 of the Age of Ascendancy
Earlier in my writings I had penned a belief that these people should have sent help centuries ago - I know now that this belief was in error, that they had their own problems to deal with. Their Age of Pyre came at quite a price, and were in no condition to help us. There have been no orc attacks here in a century or more, no need to be as eternally vigilant as we have. But again, I digress. That furry being need not have perished at my hands, yet he did. All because he foolishly wandered straight into a Searing Light spell directed at his attacker, "Z." Both are dead now, but only one needed to have died. Why? I will never know. He even thanked me, in a sense, for besting that "Z" fellow, before attempting to skewer me with his floating greatsword. I will never understand the foolishness of some of these people.

7th Decay, Year 122 of the Age of Ascendancy
I am beginning to see why this tower is known as "Dreadfell" - it is a truly evil place, beset upon by many undead. I think I died, not even an hour ago - I felt a pain I wish to never feel again, but before it ended I was placed in the Void of all places, near a being that called itself "Eidolon." I've no idea why, but he saw fit to continue my adventures among the living. The most ridiculous thing, though - I had not a single foe left moving in sight, all had perished. It was their diseases that ended me - diseases! My healing light had not yet had time to begin again, nor my infusions of regeneration or disease-curing. If only I had listened to Lady Fillarel on her lectures of Totality, and how it may aid in such situations.

8th Allure, Year 123 of the Age of Ascendancy
Is this the price we Shaloren paid for our immortality? That the pioneers who had the vision to grant us this gift were cursed with insanity and decay of their form? Is this truly the legacy we have for future generations?

70th Regrowth, Year 123 of the Age of Ascendancy
Have I changed so much, so rapidly? I finally made it back to the East, and Lady Fillarel did not even recognize me. She was facing off against some orc filth as usual, and after dispatching the beast, she suggested I go to Sunwall. This cavern was the training cavern in my youth, and I knew full well where I was, and where Sunwall was. Still she needed to point out where it was.

73d Regrowth, Year 123 of the Age of Ascendancy
I suppose as I am back in the East I should revert to the nomenclature for the years that we had devised to remind us to stand strong, but I feel it unnecessary. I have made too many memories in Maj'Eyal, and not being recognized in Sunwall by anybody further reinforces this feeling. I suppose the dotard - Zemekkys can be excused, but literally nobody recognizes me. Lady Aeryn seemed a bit disappointed when I told her I was the only of our kind to make it to Elvala or even be treated with any sort of seriousness, but as leader I expect her true feelings were more profound, but buried for the sake of appearances.

DitL of Garkun, Dwarven Berserker Extraordinaire

Garkun was the second-born son of a relatively minor Warrior Caste family in Iron Throne. As the warrior caste always has clients willing to pay very nicely for mercenaries, Garkun was allowed education in fighting styles, penmanship, and the basics of equipment use (whereas the mage caste has not produced anything beyond managing to break even since the Great Smith-Mage Dakhtun. Poor Greedy, may he rest in peace.)
With the recent orc attacks threatening important stralite veins (and more importantly, profitability), the Council decided to send a cadre the strongest warriors they had to investigate Reknor. Tradition dictated the eldest was strongest, but amongst the minor families, it was common practise to fabricate documents indicating the second-born (or even third) son was eldest, as the eldest by the most inviolate of laws and traditions was always heir to the family holdings. As the threat was greatly underestimated, the smith caste was allowed to bring its tradesmen to repair any minor damages the equipment might suffer on the trip, and charge their usual fees. Garkun's family gave him 10 gold for these services, but now only he and his childhood friend, Norgan have survived... below are excerpts from his diary:

Diary entry, day two of expedition
Just woke Norgan up after crawling into a hole some rats made in an abandoned tunnel. Still somewhat surprised to be alive, considering how quickly Valrun and the others from the other families were dispatched. Norgan seems a little frightened, but capable.

A few hours later, found a bloody phial on the ground, dropped by some right-idiotic orc no doubt. Asked Elisa about it through the use of her scrying orb, she said it was "Very nice!" Apparently it gave me an "extra life" by drinking it. Not sure what that means. Norgan's shield-slamming seems to be making quick work of any foes we encounter.

Diary entry, day five of expedition
Well, that was certainly a workout. Found the ugliest orc (yes, I know, they're all ugly. But this one looks like he got hit by the ugly stick more than what the rest of these scum have.) I'd ever seen, flinging ... something unspeakably nasty at Norgan and I. Nearly killed Norgan, but the handy Regeneration infusions the caste war apothecaries made for us were able to keep death at bay. By the time we'd made it to Iron Throne, Norgan decided fighting wasn't for him anymore. Poor man. Not sure what he'd be able to do as a warrior like me, but the council now wants volunteers to go clean out Tentacle-ville... err, The Deep Bellow. Shouldn't make light of our fallen comrades like that. After the fight with Captain Ugly down there, I need some fresh air for the first time in my life.

Diary entry - Last Hope
Followed a trade caravan to the Allied Kingdom's mountaintop fortress. Nice place, found a dwarf living there from the alchemist's caste, he wanted into "The Brotherhood of Alchemists," which is apparently some grandiose organization from the way his eyes started gleaming like he was looking at a nice set of voratun gear. Better muscles is always nice, so I told him I'd like that. 'Course, I didn't like what he told me to go kill. An elder vampire, and a greater multi-hued wyrm. Well. Maybe I'll find one just lying freshly-killed by a mountain accidentally dropping on it repeatedly.

Diary entry - Derth
Followed yet another trade caravan here, to this small farming village. If I never have to smell live cow again, it'll be too soon. Don't think my diary will ever stop reeking of their leavings. Did find a shady cornac hiding behind one of the buildings, took me to their equivalent of combat trials in Iron Throne - what a complete and total pushover, these louts wouldn't have survived the first minute in the true trials. Did learn some new tricks to protect myself with my armour, though.

Diary entry - ow
My grandfather always said death was just the ultimate adventure. If by that he meant "Say hi to the Eidolon for me," then I'd agree. Strange fellow. Uh, note to self - don't try to bite off more than you can chew again. Stupid assassins. At least the human merchant was thankful. His shop had better have the best gear money can buy.

Diary entry - miserable sand pit
Well, this has been a long, strange trip. All this fighting has got me in peak physical condition, though I'm sure my old masters in the Throne would chide at how clumsily I fight. I produce results, don't I? Dumb worm queen died, and the chatty "Very nice!" halfling told me to eat the heart. I feel... more at peace with nature. Not sure how else to describe it.

Diary entry - surrounded by orc bits
Huh. Rod of Recall didn't take me back to my underwater palace that time. It took me to a field of orcs, all of which are ugly, pulpy bits now. The smell is hideous, but still my diary's marginally less pleasant smell of cow leavings persists. Got a very nice hammer from the Master in addition to this staff the orcs were after, and the leader orc had a nice little helmet on his head that I took for my own use.

... not even a single day after leaving Dreadfell behind me (which somehow managed to cram at least two greater multi-hued wyrms inside) and losing two "lives" to those miserable little ingrates, I find some adventurers that seem to think "dwarf beard" is part of some alchemical potion they need. What does the first dead adventurer have in his backpack? A (quill bits and ink splots) scale from a multi-hued wyrm. Lousy...

Diary entry - this place, again?!
So, the elder of Last Hope told me to go search in Reknor for what the orcs were doing out in Maj'Eyal. Surprised the old coot even knew about Reknor. Found some babbling, lost alchemist, the fourth thus far. Was thinking to myself, "Just maybe this one will live." But noooooo, some idiot necromancer found a troll graveyard. Three patchwork trolls stepped out of the shadows, and deprived of my most damaging ability that hits more than one foe (since these useless lackwits don't understand the meaning of "stay out of my way when I do this!") he died rather spectacularly. I can still hear his panicky screams... or that might just be some other lost idjit. Sod it all. Only the basics in imbuing armours with gems learned, when I could have worked with the finest of gems. Worthless, stupid imbeciles. At least this fine suit of prismatic dwarven-steel platemail of the dragon is keeping ME alive. Knew that merchant wouldn't let me down.

(several pages seem to be torn out messily)

Diary entry - worthless cave full of spiders
I hate spiders. Creepy, nasty, evil little things. I will admit I was a little scared of them, but my fear of them has been replaced with something far more useful to a Berserker like me - apoplectic fury, because of some (quill bits and ink splots) "LOREMASTER" DARED INSULT THE BRAVE HEROES THAT tried to save these useless, moronic, idiotic, impotent "escort" imbeciles. HE DARES CALL US COWARDS?!!!! If I ever find this "Loremaster Verutir," I will make sure he painfully understands just how angry I am at his writings. As a side note, I should look into finding sturdier quills, these ones don't seem to hold up to my mighty penmanship.

Diary entry - there and back again
Never thought I'd see Maj'Eyal again. Decided to see what that hidden treasure was that the library in my palace kept blathering on about... found a bunch of troll whelplings and a ... lost thief... who was as powerful as me. In some place that was as challenging to him as stealing candy from a baby. Oi, their incompetence never ends. Found some nice gems by the biggest of the nasties.. hah, sod it, they're all tiny but that one was the only one that took more than two hits. Guess this Warmaster Fnord knew what kind of blade worked well. Smart orc. Orc, but smart. Dead, too, haha.

Diary entry - maze again
Paid a visit to my old stomping grounds in the Throne, overheard how a patrol went missing here. Haven't seen or heard anything since I set foot in this place again. Wait....(a very large inkstain occupies the rest of the page)

I hate spiders. I really do. That one... that one I did not need to see. Dead now though, sliced into a million tiny little bits. Did get some amulet that REALLY AMPLIFIED THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE. HAR! Bet I'll have fun with this one in the Motherlode. Hm. Should ask and see if I'm still welcome there after that gas attack the roast orc haunch gave me.

Diary entry - forest again
Just put ol' Wrathie's bigger brother to the campfire I made. Pity all he had going for him was his size. Didn't need to do anything beyond pop a single regen infusion. Got some nice teeth all strung into a necklace off its "corpse"... hold on, Elisa got back to me.... oh by the Elder's curled toes, my Da gave me a name so ridiculously close to some long-dead orc. He must be laughing now. Sometimes I wonder about Elisa, she's always saying how every last trinket I find is "Very nice!"

Diary entry - Last Hope, yet again
Think my diary is starting to stop smelling like cow leavings at last, but then again I might just be getting used to it. Chap I gave my orb of many ways to said I needed some weird book from Telos' tower. Should be a fun jaunt. He seems like such a nice fellow. I'll be sure to mention him in my will, when this is all over.

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