Darklands Archivist |
Lothan and Tyrrol:
You return to camp after your battle with Shindiira of House Azrinae, the leader of a group of drow stationed in a sea cave on Devil's Elbow. Your encounter there included the reading of the leader's journal, uncovering some surprising information...namely that drow caused the meteor to fall on Devil's Elbow, and that the drow have a presence on the surface world in ruined elven city of Celwynvian, north of Riddleport. Moreover, two names in particular stand out: "Nolveniss", seemingly the leader of the drow in Celwynvian and object of Shindiira's affection; as well as some vague thing or concept referred to as the "Armageddon Echo".
After a couple more days on the island, you leave Devil's Elbow with Akron's fleet, along with Mordecai, Lecian, Kuva, and Samaritha. When you return to Riddleport, you are met by a clamoring mob. A sizable crowd, made up of many different types waits at the docks. Laborers are hard at work, still repairing the damage done by the tsunami. A hosts of merchants clamor at you and others, eager to purchase noqual, the valuable skymetal mined from the meteor. Several dwarves from the Gas Forge are on hand to arrange appointments for smelting and refining the noqual ore.
Departing Akron and his crew, you look for a place to rest. Lecian and Mordecai are surprised to find the Gold Goblin intact, and once they deem it safe, offer lodging there to the others and dried provisions are provided for nourishment. Samaritha heads to the Cypherlodge and Kuva leaves to go who-knows-where.
If there's something else you want to do in Riddleport, let me know.
Lothan Robgard |
"I never thought I'd say this, but, I sure am glad to be back." Lothan says as he sets his pack down, finding himself a seat at the nearest table. "But I'm afraid we found more than we wanted on that stinking island. Freakish tentacle creatures and dark elves. And here I thought they were just folklore. Don't s'pose you all have any idea what the heck an 'Armageddon Echo' is?" he asks.
Tyrrol Radanavich |
Tyrrol shrugs.
"On the island, foes were clear: Anything that moved was hostile, and it was acceptable to send them to the Boneyard. In Riddleport, the threats are not as easy to see, and some parties have an issue with sending everyone to the Great Beyond. I preferred the island. The chaos was purer, the choices clearer.
Here, there is in entropy everywhere, but it is hidden beneath a veneer of civilization. As to this 'Armageddon Echo', I know not what it is, but I can postulate - Whilst there is only one 'true' Armageddon, which will happen when Pharasma judges the last mortal soul, and the Lord of End Times comes to consume the universe, the term is used colloquially to refer to anything that destroys a community (in isolated areas) or a civilization (in more populace regions) the Fall of Ancient Azlant, and the end of the Thassilonian Empire, being two that I can think of - perhaps that (or something similar) is what is being referred to?"
Tyrrol does not really care for the clamour, but acknowledges that the gold garnered from the sale of Noqual will undoubtedly provide him with useful funds.
Could I have a holy symbol made out of Noqual?
Lothan Robgard |
"Well," Lothan starts as he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair as he processes Tyrrol's theory, "that all seems... horrible. So, what we have here is some kind of 'end of the world' thing happening. And these drow have everything to do with it. Because if that journal is true, then those cats were responsible for bringing down that freaking meteor." He stops a moment as he sits up, bringing himself to the edge of his seat, his mind pondering something as his eyes go wide. "Whoa! I just thought of something," he declares, rising. "If these fools managed to find way to pull one meteor out of the sky, how long will it be before they figure out how to pull several out?! What the...! Okay, now that would suck! They could take out all of Riddleport and the surrounding towns! Not that I would be too sad about Riddleport. Well, except for Samaritha. She's great." He grins, realizing a moment later that he's completely trailed off the beaten path.
"ANYway, we gotta do something. Last thing I wanna be doing is having to deal with whatever this 'Armageddon Echo' is. 'Cause it don't sound good. I say we take 'em down before they take us. The journal speaks of a leader named, 'Nolveniss', who apparently has taken up residence in Celwynvian with the rest of his type. I guess we head in that direction?" He shrugs. "Heck, I don't know. I just wanted to make some money to pay off my debts to these scumbags so they wouldn't come after me when I leave this rot hole." Lothan shakes his head, finding it amusing the position he's found himself. "Heh. Funny isn't it? We live day by day trying to make a living, and the next thing you know, you find yourself living minute by minute, just trying to live. What a world."
Tyrrol Radanavich |
Tyrrol shrugs.
"Life ends when it is due to end. It is, after all, simply a brief, flickering candle flame, attempting to fight against a rising gale... and equally as doomed to being snuffed out. However, only the Gods have the right to cause Apocalypse, and only Groetus is truly responsible for the ultimate one; it is hubris on the part of mortals to think they have right to enact 'miniature' apocalypses of their own. If we could find those who are trying to wrest such power into their grasp, I would be happy to acquaint them with their folly... as I send them to the Boneyard to be judged."
Lothan Robgard |
Lothan nods adamantly in agreement, "That's what I'm talkin' about, Tyrrol ol' buddy!" He gives him a slap on the shoulder. "Heck yeah! These chumps wanna end us but they got another thing coming. All I got to say is: they better pack lightly 'cause they'll be punching their ticket for a one way trip on the nearest boat STRAIGHT TO HELL!" Lothan gives a below-the-chin fist pump at his own trash talk, firing himself up. "So until then, I guess we better get some rest. I'm guessing we need to make our way to Celwynvian as soon we're ready. But if the place is covered in drow, we're gonna need some kind of intel on it. Hopefully somebody, somewhere knows something. You wouldn't happen to know of anyone, would you?" he asks the oversized half-elf.
Tyrrol Radanavich |
Tyrrol shrugs.
"My father might know something, but the last time I checked, he was still in Karcau, writing tragedies. I know that Celwynvian was the capital city of the pre-Earthfall Elven nation, and that its ruins lie somewhere in the Mierani Forest, but that is all; Elven history was never a particular interest for me."
Lothan Robgard |
"Yeah, me either. Oh well, I'm gonna call it a night. In the morning - after breakfast of course - we probably should go talk to Samaritha and the Cyphermages; maybe they can help us. I don't know of anyone else I trust in this town." With that, Lothan grabs his pack and makes his way to the nearest room.
Tyrrol Radanavich |
Tyrrol shrugs.
"If anyone is going to know something about this, I dare say it will be the Cyphermages. We can probably even use the 'favor' we did them on the island as leverage, if needed. I will adjourn shortly; I just want to spend a little longer in front of the fire..."
About a quarter of an hour after Lothan retires, Tyrrol pushes his chair back, stands, stretches, and then heads to his room...
Lothan Robgard |
No worries, bud. Bringing in new PC's is always a challenge.
Lothan groans as he really doesn't want to get up. "Alright, alright, I'm up," he grumbles, crankily waving him away. After a moment more of laying there, he yawns and eventually rises as he then attempts to work the kinks out of his sore body with a bit of stretching before getting ready. After making himself presentable, he heads to the dining room as instructed.
"Alright, Mordecai, who is it that wants the low down on Devil's Elbow?"
Tyrrol Radanavich |
Tyrrol nods his assent to Mordecai, and dresses, making a point of checking that his armor is in perfect working order, and his weapon is loose in its scabbard, before heading downstairs.
It is not my time to die, just yet...
Zoltan the Crippled |
Zoltan waits by the closed door as his request for a conversation is conveyed. He can't help but pace back and forth, ignoring the looks of curiosity he draws from people on the street.
Could it be true?!
It is not the first time that he finds himself in a similar situation, chasing like a madman about rumours of apocalyptic events.
They think The Crippled is crazy, but I'm sure my visions are guided. Curse the Gods for toying so with my sanity!
He pushes back his long white hair and tries as best he can to hide his crippled, singed arms, but struggles, as his gnarled fingers can't find purchase on the thick canvas of his black tunic.
They must not think I'm crazy though... Get a grip Zoltan! This might be your chance. Don't ruin it!
He straightens a bit as he hears steps behind the door, trying to calm the passion dancing in his eyes.
They're coming back!
Darklands Archivist |
When you arrive at the dining room, you find four individuals waiting for you: Lecian (who seems even more distant than normal), Mordecai, and two elves you've yet to meet til now. One of the elves is a deeply tanned and tattooed male wearing simple clothing. "This is Kwava," Mordecai begins. "He's an allow of me and Lecian who once saved us from the murderous treachery of a former business partner and owner of the Gold Goblin." The elf nods. "...and this is Iolar," he gestures to the other elf, a female, "...an associate of Kwava's. I'll let her explain her purpose here."
Iolar Eitilt |
Iolar, the second elf is thin, even for a race noted for lean physiques. Her hair is drawn back tightly from her face and her eyes stare with the emotionless focus of a raptor. Her clothes are simple: leather leggings and high collared shirt of stiff leather with the reddish fur still intact except at the shoulders, elbows, knees and seat. A dagger and sickle hang at her belt.
At her feet lies a pack of leather similar to her hide clothes and a staff headed with collection of feathers leans against the wall at her side.
She looks angrily at Kwava, before turning back to you and speaking, "I am travelling to the Mierani Forest. Kwava believes that you might travel with me from here to there. He says you would be more than up to any dangers the road presents."
Tyrrol Radanavich |
Tyrrol shrugs.
"It would be more apt to say that road's dangers are not up to dealing with us. Anyone foolish enough to attempt to interfere will be quickly disabused of the dream of continued existence, and sent packing to the Boneyard."
He then stares hard at Iolar, before pulling out a pocketwatch, flicking it open, thoughtfully regarding the clock-face for a few uncomfortable moments, and then nodding.
"It would appear that it is not your time. I will travel with you."
Lothan Robgard |
"And if Tyrrol says it is not your time, then let me tell you, it is NOT your time." He winks, grinning. "Heck yeah I'll go! Anywhere is better than this dump. I hate this stinking place. 'Sides... turns out that's exactly where we need to go." He then looks to the lady elf through narrowed eyes, a curious look about him. "Okay, I'll bite: Why are you headed that way?"
Iolar Eitilt |
Iolar looks stunned and actually takes a step back before drawing herself up to reply.
"That is a prying question, but I'll answer anyway. There is a fight, maybe a war, raging in the Mierani. Many brave elves have made the long journey there, but not returned. The few who do return are close-lipped.
"Rumors wing with false information. The queen and council obfuscate. I want to find out if there is a great threat, or if the veil conceals only their imcompetence. "
"Now, if you will return the favor, why do you need to go there?
Lothan Robgard |
Lothan walks over and looks directly at the elf maiden, "Do you really want to know? Okay." He glances over at Kwava before continuing. "Dark. Elves. We," he motions in a roundabout way to himself, Mordecai, Lecian, and Tyrrol, "saw 'em. Yeah, you heard me right. They're not just scary people your mother threatens to have come get you just so you'll behave - OH NO! They're real. And we saw 'em on Devil's Elbow. We managed to kill most of 'em. And we also managed some inside information that they've holed up in Celwynvian. That's what your elf people are so secretive about. So yeah, I'm thinkin' great threat. Especially with this whole Armageddon thing they got going on. Sheesh. If they want to fight a war then fight one; just don't be trying to destroy a whole city in the process. Especially one I'm living in."
Darklands Archivist |
"Shhh! Lecian says suddenly. "Kwava asked that we keep what we know secret, and I can sense the thoughts of prying minds nearby." The wizard gets up. "I'll investigate the premises. Try to keep your voices down in the meantime."
Almost immediately after arriving, one of the large darkwood doors open. A robed man with a bald head steps out into view. "Yes? Can I help you?"
Lothan Robgard |
Lothan flinches, not realizing he wasn't suppose to be such a loud mouth. Trying to be as quiet as possible, "ORRRRRRR, I'm just kidding! Ha! Fooled you! I think I had you going there, didn't I...," a look of concentration appears as he's trying to recall something, "um... I'm sorry, what was your name again? I'm drawing a blank here."
Vendric Barsett |
Having followed them the day before Vendric once again finds himself before the Golden Goblin. I wonder if the rumors are true? Surely most are just misinformation and such, but if there is a once of truth in them the people in there will know of it.
Vendric begins to head inside when he notices another Half-Elf Besides him. Perhaps he came for the same reason as I. I should probably introduce my...Vendric's thought is cut short as the door of the Golden goblin swings open and a robed bald man walks out. Vendric eyes the bald-headed man before addressing him. "Perhaps you can. It is my understanding that some of the people of the group who were tasked with investigating the meteor are lodging here. I wish to speak to them about what happened at the Devil's Elbow."
Zoltan the Crippled |
Startled by the arrival of a new person behind him, Zoltan is about to ask him his business, when the door opens, cutting short any possible discussion.
As the newcomer starts speaking, Zoltans whirls to face the door. Trying his best to hide his hands while not appearing to be hiding something, Zoltan beams an awkward smile at the bald one: "Yes, it is very important! Are they in? Can we see them now?"
Wait! he's asking about Devil's Elbow?!
Iolar Eitilt |
Lothan flinches, not realizing he wasn't suppose to be such a loud mouth. Trying to be as quiet as possible, "ORRRRRRR, I'm just kidding! Ha! Fooled you! I think I had you going there, didn't I...," a look of concentration appears as he's trying to recall something, "um... I'm sorry, what was your name again? I'm drawing a blank here."
"Iolar," she replies deadpan.
Her eyes flick to Lecian, and then to Kwava.
Darklands Archivist |
Outside:
After some questioning and pleading between you and the robed man, he finally decides to let you in. He leads you across the large casino floor into a smaller room on the other side of the building.
Inside:
Lecian returns, and following him, are two others - half-elves. "These two are also interested in what happened at Devil's Eblow. I thought they may prove useful as allies." Mordecai gives Lecian a damning glare. "Yes, yes, I've read their thoughts," the wizard says in appeasement.
"Good," the furrow-browed human states curtly. He addresses the two newcomers. "Introduce yourselves then."
Zoltan the Crippled |
For an instant, Zoltan's eyes grow wide as he is put on the spot, but then his usual confidence resumes and he relaxes. He pushes back his chalk-white hair, extending them straight in his back,
He lifts slowly the sleeves of his long black tunic, on which Mierani maple leaves of fiery, red, yellow, white and gold, dance on the lower mesh, spiraling upward as though carried by the wind to reach his wide leather belt.
Doig so, he reveals mangled charred hands, burned to a black crisp it seems: "I am Zoltan, a tool of the Gods."
A toy, really...
Shrouded in dark makeup, his pale blue eyes seem to see through you as his soft voice bounces with clear eloquence: "I am blessed and gifted. My visions have unlocked profound and sacred of mysteries..."
With thin rosy lips he utters the second part: "...but they have also shown me the End. It is coming, here, now. I believe I- I believe we can stop it."
Vendric Barsett |
Vendric listens with intrigue to Zoltan's introduction and explanation. Once Zoltan finishes Vendric begins to speak. "My name is Vendric Barsett. I'm a travelling Alchemist." He gives a little bow at his introduction. "It was during my travels that i began to hear rumors like what Zoltan here said. At first i dismissed them as just rumors but as I heard more and more I began to suspect there to be some truth in them. I'm hoping you guys can shed some light on the subject."
Tyrrol Radanavich |
"The end of the world is always coming... however, we have information which suggests that there are those who are attempting to hasten the natural timetable... and that they have a particular interest in Celwynvian."
Lothan Robgard |
Lothan listens as the two introduce themselves. He did find himself a bit taken aback by Zoltan's disfigured hands. Whoa! If he's some kind of tool for the gods, they ought to do something about his hands. Man that sucks. "Celwynvian is not a who, it's a what. It's a city. Well, it was a city. It's pretty much in ruins now. Name's Lothan. My large buddy there is Tyrrol. And what he says is true. Although," he turns to Zoltan, "I don't think we're talking about the end of the world as you put it, friend. I mean, heh, c'mon, that would be impossible. My guess is they want to destroy Riddleport and possibly the surrounding villages. To destroy the world would be a heck of an undertaking, let's be honest."
Darklands Archivist |
Kwava interrupts you. "So you've uncovered something! What is it? What is the source of your discovery?"
You go over what you've discovered from the journal (as summarized in the first post), and Kwava pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, a deep furrow worn into his brow. "These are grave tidings. If the drow have learned how to pull stars from the sky, none of us are safe.
"I must ask a great favor of you. My employers, the Shin'Rakorath, have only recently revealed to me the full extent of the drow menace in Celwynvian. As much as I would dearly love to see the city, they have ordered me to remain in the Riddleport hinterlands to keep watch for any further drow influence. This journal you found would be of great use to my kin in the Mierani Forest. The Shin'Rakorath and I ask you to carry this journal to Crying Leaf, a small camp in the eastern reaches of the wood. Iolar here will show you the way. Take it to Eviana, the leader of Crying Leaf. She will know what to do."
Lothan Robgard |
"Well that works out then; 'cause I had no idea how to get there." Looking to Zoltan, "And we're going, friend, I can guarantee you that. It's just a matter of when." Turning back to the others, "Alright, so, when do we leave?"
Tyrrol Radanavich |
"That will not take much time at all. I travel light - you never know when it will be essential to move on."
So saying, he goes back upstairs to collect his backpack, and then comes straight back down, ready to go.
Tyrrol Radanavich |
If we travel by foot, it will take just shy of six days to reach it from Riddleport. Horses would allow us to do it in just over two days. I don't mind either way - Tyrrol is fatalistic enough to just walk ;-)
Zoltan the Crippled |
Zoltan can't believe his luck as things just seem to fall into place. His expression soon sours, as he can't believe his luck...
Are the Gods toying with me?! How can stars be aligned so, if not to precipitate my fate and end this world?!?
"G- Great! I'm eager to hit the road, and I don't mind the walk..." he volunteers, having no idea how far they're going.
Iolar Eitilt |
"I have no horses. If you have no mounts then we must walk."
While the others gather their gear, Iolar unleashes a toorent of elven on Kwava.
"What is this they say about black elves? What fairy tales are these half-wits telling? Is there any truth to it? Then why didn't you tell me before?
"What will I do with them in Celwynian? They have no manners, no culture. They are uncouth in the extreme. Their faces are twisted echoes of elven beauty. Even humans would seem less alien than they."
Lothan Robgard |
Lothan clears his throat as he walks up to the elf maiden. "Look here, elf lady, you might want to watch what you say around my buddy Tyrrol. Now, he's a pretty calm fellow but if you continue to talk trash like that about our kind, I'm not responsible for what he might do. Now, I don't care what you say because I don't give a crap about your hoity-toity attitude. Maybe in your world you're all important, but out here, where lives are at stake, you better have our backs because this ain't all about you," he states candidly. "So, you better learn to get along with us 'half-breeds', otherwise, you're gonna have a hard time fighting this battle alone. Just think on that, sweetheart." He winks, grinning wryly. Turning to the rest, "Pack it up, folks, and let's move; we may have an entire world to save." He stops a moment and ponders that statement. "Huh. I bet you all haven't heard that one before," he says as a matter of fact, double checking his equipment, making sure it's all there. "Alright, I'm ready. Let's roll."