Aldhranhald's Formula for Life


Campaign Journals


Slavery is not a life I would wish on anyone, and yet it is my parents' slavery that made me who I am today. Cliche, I know, rags to riches, the oldest of stories. Though I would not call my existence now riches, not in comparison to the free flowing wealth that exists in Caliphas, the city of my youth. My story is a long one, as is fitting for an elf, since we are such long lived creatures. As such I will try to keep the details to a minimum for now, perhaps I will expand on things later. As I said, I grew up in Caliphas, the child of slaves; the second child of slaves, I have an older sister Celadrie, remember that, because it is of some great importance later. Children of slaves know nothing but slavery from birth. I am lucky I suppose, some masters would have had my sister and I killed at birth, or had us destroyed in the womb. So our birth was a gift our master gave us. Ah, but you see, when an elf is the slave of a human, they change masters rather quickly in relativity, for humans die before they’ve reached a century, and the master of kindness, Alezar, that allowed our birth, gave his wealth to a son, Tiberiu, that was spoiled, selfish, careless. Elves age slower than humans, obviously, so Tiberiu and I were “of an age” as the expression goes, for a few years, but then he grew quickly, and I stayed young. Tiberiu never respected me, but at least when he was young, he wasn’t malicious, while Alezar was alive my family was treated well, as far as the lives of slaves go. When Alezar died, and Tiberiu took over his wealth and work, everything got worse.

I must backtrack though, so some of what follows will make sense. Alezar was a master sculptor. He made some of the best works on display in the most wealthy mansions in all of Ustalav. As part of his work Alezar, as his father, and his father before him had, used chemicals to cut the stone, to add color, to soften it, and myriad other uses. I was always drawn to watching Alezar in his workshop. A little of this, a pinch of that, a dash of this, a drip, just a drip, of that and boom! Magic happened. I could have sworn, then, that Alezar was capable of bringing the stone to life. Alezar always indulged me, he even tried to teach me, or, more rightly, he taught Tiberiu and I was allowed to listen quietly. Chemicals can do amazing things, magical things, and I was hooked. Alezar was also an avid reader, his personal library was only surpassed in Caliphas by the Quarterfaux Archives themselves. While Alezar was alive I was allowed to borrow anything in his library I wished, and I was always very careful with his books. Books are treasures. As I said, when Alezar died, everything changed, for the worse.

Tiberiu closed his workshop and library to me, not to our family because those rooms still needed be cleaned, just to me because he knew I got enjoyment out of them. He routinely had all four of us whipped when the mansion wasn’t cleaned to his liking, or the food my mother cooked wasn’t pleasing to him. Where Alezar was benevolent, his son was malicious. Where Alezar was humble, his son was entitled. So it was that when my parents deemed me “old enough,” I was in my thirties, but still, by human standards just a teenager, I was allowed to leave the manse, and I did, on every possible occasion. You’d expect that I went to the seedier parts of town, right? Expect that I went out and drowned my sorrows in drinks, women, gambling? But you forget, I was a slave. We were paid in coppers only, if at all. That we were clothed, fed, and had a safe place to sleep was our payment. So there were only a few places I could go that didn’t require money. I’m sure you can guess one of the places I went. Yep, the library. Books became my solace, in truth, they still are, but then they were one of my only joys. I exhausted the meager library of Caliphas in a few scant years, reading the way a glutton consumes food. This left me only the Quarterfaux Archives, but no slave is allowed there, not willingly anyway… The Archives are as much an academy as they are a library and storehouse for relics and artifacts. I knew I could never get in, but it didn’t stop me from strolling around the building, and strolling often. I don’t know what I hoped would happen. Maybe that one of the pampered noble brats would accidentally drop a book and I could pick it up? Maybe that the knowledge would just flow out of the windows and into my waiting mind? What I did not expect was to watch a thief, a thief that I knew because he was a slave in a mansion in our same district of the city, break into one of the Archives back doors. The decision I made then was one of the most defining of my life; I followed Njorn into the Archives. I slipped in the door just behind him and grabbed his black cloak by the hem.

“What are you doing?!” I whisper shouted at him.
“What are you doing?!” He retorted.
“If you get caught, they’ll string you up at best.” I reminded him.
If.” He said, with more bravado and confidence than I had ever seen in any slave, ever. Then he said, “be quiet, stay right next to me, and you’ll see exactly what I’m doing.”
And so I did. I followed him down several levels into the belly of the Archives. My mind reeled as we moved through rooms and chambers that held books, workshops, equipment, scrolls, wands, relics and magical artifacts more numerous than I thought ever existed in all the world. Yet here they were. Njorn watched as my mouth fell open when we walked past just one of the Archive’s many libraries. He stopped, went in, grabbed the first book he saw and pushed it at me. “Here, take it.” He said. “They won’t miss it, trust me.” The book felt like molten iron in my hand. I’d never stolen anything. Obviously Njorn had no such moral quandary. All the more obvious because what he did take from the Archives was worth a lifetime of gold more than the book he gave to me. The helmet he took was brilliant, etched to look like the maw of a dragon, gilt in silver and gold, with a row of multi-colored gems across the brow. Njorn had opened more than a dozen locked doors, and disabled twice as many traps on our way to that glass enclosed case than I had ever thought possible. When he picked the helmet up, he looked me right in the eyes and said, “do you know what this is Aldhranhald?” I simply shook my head back and forth, too in shock to do anything else. “It’s freedom.” He said. “It’s an end to whips, to back-breaking labor, to nights of only a few hours sleep, only to do it all over again. It’s life! he said.

As I said before, that night changed my life. On our way out Njorn told me about the guild of thieves he’d fallen in with, how they had things they could teach me, and I was always curious to learn. Always knowing that knowledge was one thing no merciless master could take away from you. So it is I came by some of my more, unsavory, abilities. I’m not necessarily proud of my years with the thieve’s guild of Caliphas, but I don’t regret it either. A good archaeologist needs a broad skill set, and the skills they taught have come in handy entirely too often. Besides the fact that they had a well stocked alchemical lab, and they let me experiment there whenever I wanted. I owe Njorn and that thieve’s guild a lot, so much that I am still repaying it, but that is another story.

The book Njorn had stolen and given me was a treatise on dwarven architectural design. Fascinating! I never thought building materials, ways and means could be so interesting, but it was, and I desired more. And so I stole more. I was a regular entrant at the archives, though not one that checked in on the regular roster of spoiled aristocrat students. So my life went as such for quite a number of years, I worked during the day, went to work for the thieve’s guild at night, and snuck into the Quarterfaux Archives in between. Even with Tiberiu’s malevolent tyranny ruling over us, I was, for the most part happy during those years.

Then came the end. Remember my sister, Celadrie? She and I share our mother’s dark hair. Celadrie also shares her curvacious body. A truth that did not escape Tiberiu. Tiberiu was a true playboy of Caliphas. He had a different girl, seemingly, every week, but my sister was the one prize he could never attain. In truth, as a slave, he could have taken her whenever he wanted. Rape of slaves isn’t even a crime, in most cultures it’s considered poor taste at worst. But no, Tiberiu wanted her willingly. He wanted her to want him, for all the petty and superficial reasons all the other girls did, money, wealth, status, power. None of these impressed Celadrie. Why should they have? If my sister was of an age when Alezar was alive, I think she would have given herself to him willingly, but she would never give herself to Tiberiu. As the years passed the tension and anger built up in Tiberiu, until one day, drunk and fuming, he took my sister against her will. I had enough alchemical knowledge at that point to heal her wounds, and knew enough from my books to have the right words to say to calm her fears. What I did not have was a potion that would still the baby growing in her womb. What a wretchedness to have inside?! Yet she loved the child, ever since she felt it moving inside her. I do not understand such things, but the love of a mother is fierce. Our own mother had taught us that, and I would not begrudge Celadrie her child. I would not, but Tiberiu would, and did. So it was I learned first hand one of the adages my friends in the guild oft repeated. Death is just life reversed. Strange, but I now know what they meant. Tiberiu sent an assassin to end my sister’s life, to be rid of the shame that grew inside her. To be rid of his only heir. See it? If my sister gave birth to his heir, the child would be half-elf, it would live long years, and instead of slaves, my family would be free, and my sister would be the mother to the heir of Alezar’s family fortune, and family business. So it was that by one death, our lives were reversed. I killed the assassin. Rather easily actually. Elven senses are rather keen you know, and I heard him sneaking along the alleyway by our family quarters. I had been playing with several different concoctions the night before and had a nice one all ready to go. I spit magical resin at his feet as he tried to climb in the window, and he stuck fast. After that it was as simple as nock, draw, loose. The guild had taught me to use a bow with some efficiency, as well as rudimentary skill with a sword. That assassin’s death provided all the knowledge and evidence I needed to keep Tiberiu in check until the day of his death. I told him plainly, as I dragged the assassin’s body into his bedchamber that night, “you can lose your fortune tomorrow, or you can lose it after a good long life. The choice is yours.”

He made the better choice, and the remainder of our years with Tiberiu were much changed. It seems growing old, being a father, these things will change a man, and Tiberiu softened in his old age. He actually married my sister, making their son his heir by law as well as by blood. Celadrie loved Tiberiu, in a fashion, as he grew old and she stays young. My nephew’s name is Khulai, and he is a brilliant lad. A magnificent sculptor. My family still live in that manse in Caliphas, and I go back and visit them as often as I can.

What do I do? Ah yes, I guess that is the reason we’re both here, isn’t it. I’m an explorer at heart. When I reached my hundredth year, all the things I’d learned in books lead down the road that all knowledge must lead, experience. I had read about so many wonderful buildings, cities, magic, monsters; in short, life. I am still an explorer, and I guess that’s why I’m here. You said you’re making an expedition to the Emerald Spire. I’m guessing you’ll be heading to Fort Inevitable soon? I think my skills could be of great use to you. My knowledge alone could be invaluable, not to mention my ability to open locks, and find and disarm traps. I’d only ask my fair share of any treasure that’s found, as is standard with these contracts. So, what do you say? Can an old elf investigator join the crew?


What's that? The scars on my face? Yes, well... I suppose since we are looking to become colleagues at least, or friends if all goes right, I won't bring up the fact that asking about such things is considered impolite in civilized society. I'm sure you can guess, can't you? Given what I've told you already? Yes, chemicals... Not all of my experiments were great successes. Though as Alezar once told me, even failures we live through are successes of a sort, since we learn from them. The scar, or, more pointedly, scars, since they run like a roadmap across my face, you so perceptively noticed, are my constant reminder of the power of these things I carry around. They can do magical things, they can heal, and... they can harm. But then, you didn't ask me here for my good looks, now, did you? No, I didn't think so.


Oh! You noticed my silver-blue hand of Irori?! Did you? Yes, well, that's a different story. My entrance into the faith of Irori happened after I left Caliphas. It so happened, that on a particularly harrowing adventure inside an old dwarven ruin near the Five Kings Mountains, I met, of all things, a dwarven monk. Strange chap, ever so interested in knowledge, just like me. Which, it turns out is one of the most important tenets of the Iroran faith, did you know? Anyway, the dwarf, Draugynt, and I spent a great deal of time together in that ruin, and, well, the more he talked about his faith, the more it seemed to really pull me in. Knowledge as a way to freedom and peace... I mean, I'm sure you can see how that would really speak to the heart of an ex-slave like myself, right? Finally after our adventure was over, and I'd fully mapped out the entire ruined monastery, he gave me his copy of the Irori holy text. Do you know? The actual name of the Iroran holy text is "Unbinding the Fetters?" Loosing the chains, so to speak, granting freedom! Again, I'm sure you can see how such a text would really call to me. So it was that I followed Draugynt back to his monastery in the mountains, and spent some time reading, learning, and training there. Learned quite a few things from those stout Dwarven monks, I did. Quite a few things indeed. All of which have helped me on my continued adventures. A man of faith? Yes, I am, none more so, for Irori teaches us that knowledge is freedom and peace. To have knowledge is to be free, and to be at peace. So, once again I ask, am I the type of brave soul you've been looking for to take part in this expedition to the tower?


Fort Inevitable is a rather nice place, by my way of thinking. I’ve just been in town under a day and already met a good group of skillful people that are willing to journey to the Emerald Spire and explore the structure. Among them a graceful and beautiful Dhampir, a strong and ruddy Ulfen barbarian, a skinwalker who walks around in some beautiful skin herself, and a young lady that I have yet to understand the full nature of her person or powers, but I do believe she has some skill with summoning creatures from other planes. It is for that very reason that I picked up a book at the local Nolm Bindery, Our Planar Allies. It looks to be a most interesting treatise on the outer planes, and some of their inhabitants, which I can’t wait to read, but before that I started reading Fauna of the Echo Wood, as we’ll be heading there shortly. I also picked up a book about the faiths of the River Kingdoms. It seems important to study such as I’ve already heard about the power and influence of the High Mother in town. Her temple is devoted to Abadar, and I must admit only basic knowledge of his worship. All in due time, all in due time. I’m sure there will be many quiet moments to read on the journey, at night, by the fire… As for now, I must prepare myself for the journey at hand. I can’t forget to drop my bedroll off with the innkeep here at the Juliver Arms. I’ll be sad to leave this room, the bath was wonderfully hot, and the bed oh so comfortable, but I can’t very well afford to keep it on deposit, not knowing how long we’ll be gone. Our first order of business, as I believe, is to seek out this Davon Stonde and see about the Crowned Skull relic he has in his possession. Perhaps we can learn something more about the influx of undead that have been plaguing the region of late. Regardless, if all goes well, I should be at or near the Emerald Spire by tomorrow at the latest. We’ve many things to accomplish there, finding and ridding the place of the Crowned Skull, as well as exploring and mapping the structure for Lord Royst. That particular bit will be of special pleasure for me. I’ll have to make sure and make copies of all of my work before handing it over to Lord Royst. Ah, I smell breakfast smells wafting up already. I better head over to The Helmed Lady, as that is where we’ve chosen to meet, and they have a bit more reasonable fare as well. Off to adventure once again. Irori keep us safe.


There's something in the Emerald Spire that prevents light from penetrating. Some kind of magic or magic suppression that made our first foray into the labyrinth almost a disaster. Thank Irori that Tamlara and Boudacia can see in the dark, and that we were able to piece together enough light for Tangar to dispatch some goblins that threatened us. Of course, after making that realization we decided to head back to town to see if Lord Royst would be so kind as to gift us with some magic to alleviate the darkness. Our relationship with the local Stonde family has proved most useful, as they've fed us, and allowed us to camp on their property as a waypoint between Fort Inevitable and the Spire.

Tangar has been teaching me Varisian so I can communicate with him. As far as languages go, it is not terribly difficult. Once I got the essence of the grammatical construction, and he began teaching me various nomenclature, it started to fall into place pretty quickly. I'm sure I'll have a good handle on it in a day or so. There seems to be some budding romance between our resident Dhampir and the Ulfen warrior... Not sure that romance and adventuring make great bedfellows, but I wouldn't intervene if their relationship's course takes them down that path. Now, I must get to reading Our Planar Allies, I've been neglecting it in favor of reading about the creatures native to the Echo Wood. Hopefully after we explore a bulk of the main floor level of the Spire, I'll have more interesting things to record.

Community / Forums / Gamer Life / Gaming / Campaign Journals / Aldhranhald's Formula for Life All Messageboards

Want to post a reply? Sign in.
Recent threads in Campaign Journals