FOREWORD
Almost certainly you - dear reader - have heard of the New Runelords. You may even know certain dry facts, or been subjected to the propaganda posing as historical evidence the current Runelords promulgate. Rest assured that this history is different.
I have taken the facts and evidence, statements from various summoned beings and a lifetime of work in the field of Divination and used it to construct - in never before detail - the true story of the Rise of the New Runelords.
CHAPTER ONE
Few would have believed in the early years of the forty-seventh century that the fate of the world would rest in the hands of a few dusty academics, or that the goddess Lissala - thought dead at the time - could return and rise to such glory.
Certainly the academics involved would have been sceptical. It is important to remember that the New Runelords were simply young men and women at the time. It is true that they studied under Hargran Stonebound at the Egorian Academy of Cheliax and served as his current acolytes in the Church of Lissala. However, evidence of the day shows that while Hargran Stonebound was quite wealthy he had little real respect and was accounted only a middling powerful wizard. Later claims he was secretly an Archmage are almost certainly exaggerated. The Church of Lissala he ran was at this time little more than a cult, living in fear of the church of Asmodeus.
As for the day-to-day lives of the Runelords, let us look at what events they were engaging in when they received that fateful summons that would change the world.
dot
Anglon started his day like most others. He got up early and had a small breakfast brought to him by his servant, Elsa. After he was done eating and washed up, he proceeded to hold a small service to Lissala which others were free to attend.
" Where is my frock-coat? The morning one, not the day wear?" Arioch calls out to his valet/secretary/confidante/assistant. " is going to happen today...
I can feel it in my bones. Besides, one should never give less than one's best in service to one's deity."
if one's best is merely being the 'arrogant-poppinjay-foil-of-one's-betters'...
Taerine finishes the last of the wooden buttons lacing up the bodice of her dress. A thin smile crosses her lips as she sits in front of the mirror, in a simple wooden frame: The gray material -- tight on her torso before flaring out below into a skirt -- didn't suit her bright green skin but it did help detract attention. Despite her mixed heritage, she took after her mother in appearance and it sometimes brought her unwanted looks from strangers.
She ties the simple silver pendant around her neck -- one piece of jewelry was more than enough; no need to flaunt her wealth -- though her eyes slide briefly over to the golden hourglass nearby. I will figure out how to make that do what I want! she thinks. But, no, she can't let time get ahead of herself, no pun intended -- there are things to do before beginning her day's research.
Picking up the simple wooden brush, she quickly takes it to her hair, counting silently. At 20 strokes, she puts it down and turns toward the simple fare laid out for her breakfast: A piece of dry toast, a hard egg and a small cup of freshly squeezed juice, an indulgence she knows she should try to resist but that she just finds impossible to do.
She laughs happily, as she does almost every morning, at the massive head on the table staring with a mix of longing and disgust at the food. Looking somewhat like a bulldog with a lion's mane, her personal rune adorning its forhead, Thkrull's massive fangs jut out from its underbite.
"Do you want it?" she asks the creature.
"No," he says with a sigh, though his gaze never leaves the food. "It's so ... dull. Why don't you eat better, Taerine? I mean, I am still hungry, but ... no!"
His constant hunger still amazes her, her gaze slipping to the massive trencher on the floor. It's completely empty now, even the bones gone, but was piled high enough with food a short time ago that it took two servants to haul it in. Breakfast is his favorite meal, after all, right there with snack, lunch, dinner and dessert.
"We can't all eat like you, my dear friend," she says as she sits down, placing the cloth napkin on her lap and picking up her utensils. She cracks open the egg, slicing it and the toast neatly. The two mouthfuls of juice, a special treat as always, she saves for last.
वे मेरे जीवन को नष्ट करने के लिए शैतानों नहीं हो सकता है, जब मैं उन्हें कब्र से बढ़ा देंगे, के रूप में के रूप में उन्हें लंबे समय के लिए और मेरे लिए आदेश कर सकते हैं
Reading this text is slow and laborious ; Denat is beginning to think he made a mistake when he bought that book, supposedly written in Cyclops. He began his translation 4 days ago and the text only shows common advice about conjuration. It seems likely the whole book is a scam but the wizard is not sure and while trying to find an answer to the question, he continues to read.
A quiet voice brings him out of his thoughts.
"Sir. Your bath is ready and I just finished to prepare your clothes for today."
"Thanks Jamir."
Jamir is a halfling slave. Was a halfling slave to be more precise, Denat freed him as soon as it was possible without offending his family. Even if he comes from a cheliaxan family, he can't stand slavery. Harsh work, yes. Obedience, sure. Deference to one's master, of course. But a worker deserves a pay.
Now, the halfling works for him as a free servant, trained in the Druman ways and they are both quite happy with the deal.
Sighing with delight, he removes his bathrobe and immerses himself slowly in the hot water, closing his eyes, letting his mind wander while he plans his day and his work.
Simon wakes in his bed. It’s still quite dark out. Only moving his eyes he cautiously takes stock of his surroundings. Everything appears in order. He glances into a far dark corner. ”All clear.” comes a voice from the darkness. Sitting up Simon calmly pulls out his revolver from beneath the sheets and looks over its workings. Spinning the drum as he does so. Looking to the darkness he says, ”Thank, Molly.” Out of the dark upper corner flies a jet black raven and lands on one of the bed posts. Cocking it’s head at him she says, ”Were you born this paranoid or is it something you developed over time?”
Going about his routine of dressing himself and preparing he responds to the avian with a chuckle. ”Ancient proverb says that a paranoid mage is a live mage.”
”I’m just saying this level of crazy must be exhausting. You barely sleep and you don’t eat. If not for that ring I think you’d have gone mad and gotten yourself killed a long time ago. Then where would I be? Have you ever thought of that? I’d lose all my smarts and go back to being a regular bird again. Then how would you feel?”
Summoning a minor spell to clean his body and clothes he responds, ”Then it’s a good thing for both of us that I have the ring.” Moments later the magic energies wash over him, systematically cleaning and pressing his clothes, washing his body, trimming, cleaning, and combing as appropriate.
”I’m just saying you could stand to be a little less cautious. I mean you don’t even sleep at the same time every day. You always stagger it.”
Retrieving the secret plain looking pouch from where it was strapped to his thigh Simon says a word and the formerly empty pouch become full. He pulls a book from it and sits in a nearby comfortable chair. With a flick of his wrist the upper edge of the chair starts to glow with a light bright enough to read by. ”And if I were to get myself killed then where would you be?” he says calmly.
Now, ravens normally don’t have the facial muscle control to grimace in deep thought, but Simon would swear this one can. Seconds later Molly says, ”You have a point. Keep up the good work, boss.”
”Um. Humm.” Simon responds as he opens his book in preparation to fill his mind with magic.
**Fade to black**
Several hours later after the sun has started to rise Simon moves into the common areas to go about his day.
Grey had been around as long as any of them. He may have been the first, but he didn't discuss himself much. He rarely removed his mask, so it was difficult to tell what race he was, but the few that had seen his face were surprised by how young he looked.
He was a necromancer, after all. It was possible he'd discovered some means of slowing or stopping his own aging. There were even rumors he was already undead, though well preserved, or perhaps was some kind of golem or automaton.
He had the odd station of being treated like a very well respected servant, like the steward to a king or something of the sort. He rarely stopped working, never seemed to eat or sleep, and raised his voice only to comment or correct details others seemed to miss. No one was sure where the honorific "master" had come from, but it had probably started as a joke, or perhaps was used in the same vein as when an inkeeper is referred to as "Master Johns" by a patron even though the innkeep is generally in a role of subservience to their patrons. Whatever the case, it stuck. The acolytes all called him Master. The inner circle usually referred to him simply as Grey, though a number of them who had yet to kick their acolyte habits still gave him his honorary title.
Even for those who had known him years he was something of a mystery. In spite of that, they knew he could be trusted. Perhaps more than any of them he was dedicated to Hargran. Any who were chosen by him were immediately accepted by Grey.
Perhaps for that reason, he was immune to the rivalries and dramas of the inner circle. Everyone got along with Grey. He was simply too accommodating not to.
That morning, he was in the kitchens doing the dishes, a book hovering in front of him, occasionally flipping it's own pages.
The mid-morning stirrings of the Egorian Academy irritate the professor as he paces up and down the rows of seated students. Some are quickly working at complex formula, rushing to be the first to finish the exercise. A few try to stifle yawns and hide the movements of their fingers as they brush sleep out of their eyes or rearrange their hastily-donned clothing. One sad child loses his battle with exhaustion, nodding off until his torso sagged into a slump.
This failure does not escape the professor's notice. He stares for a cold second as the students around the sleeper shifted uncomfortably, each trying to maintain focus despite their awareness of the coming reprisal.
The instructor deliberately raises his arm, stretching out a strong hand toward a small ornate timeglass on a tidy desk. The top half of the glass flawlessly empties a fine green sand into the lower half, with only a few grains to spare. At the last literal second, the glass, bound in a gleaming silver frame, flies past the glowering teacher and impacts the sleeping student. The glass lands empty side down and begins its measured count again. The student jerks out of his chair, landing on his knees with one hands covering his forehead. A few drops of blood dribble between his fingers onto the floor.
All eyes are on the master now as he advances on the dazed student. His voice is calm with a rich baritone. You have until the glass is empty to clean your blood off my floor and present your work to the class.
The child immediately pulls his tunic sleeve down and begins to mop up the scattered vitae. The exposed wound on his head is not bad, it has stopped bleeding already. The boy says nothing.
You disappoint me, Master Goffle. The Empire is proud to claim your family among its own, yet their bragadocious scion thinks himself above keeping to a simple schedule of study and sleep. And he deigns to study alchemy and magecraft. Perhaps someone who has been awake the whole class can tell him what happens when the third sigil of a simple mage hand is incorrect?
A teenage girl raises er hand immediately. At the master's nod she says with practiced concern. The hand weakens, possibly dropping heavier objects or remaining completely insubstantial. It's utility is totally ruined. If one is forging other magic or, say, blacksmithing, the warped spell could be dangerous.
All magic is dangerous, the professor seethes. It requires the utmost care. It is one thing for a diligent student to make an error she can learn from. It is quite another for an arrogant lickspit to assume his family name will protect him from eventually pouring molten steel on himself.
The boy finishes his cleaning and sits back in his chair. Several pieces of blank vellum greet him. He knows all eyes are on him, but he cannot find the words. He swallows and looks his mentor in the eye.
I am sorry, Professor Mordent. I worked late last night in the forge and -
Excuses? Mordent snaps. Is this what you tell your wetnurse back home when your chores remain undone? You are schedules for work, you are scheduled for sleep, and you are scheduled to be in my class, alert, and flawless before the fifth hour begins every second day. Is that a schedule you find yourself unable to keep, Master Goffle?
The boy abandons his defense immediately. No, Professor Mordent. Tomorrow I will have the formula without error.
Caillus Mordent looks hard at him, then raises a challenging eyebrow. He picks up the hourglass and turns his back. Walking back to his desk he responds.
See that you do, Goffle. See that you do.
Leaving her quarters -- Thkrull close on her heels -- Taerine begins heading toward her lab, one hand sliding into her pouch to toy with the hourglass there. It should work, she thinks, if I can just figure out how to get the material to act like horacalcum. Perhaps Arioch can help. This seems like it would be something he'd be interested in.
She begins making his way toward her colleague's quarters, hoping he'll be willing to help.
Simon descended the stairs from his quarters pulling his overcoat around his neck. This part of the School was always drafty. Even Molly fluffed her feathers and crouched down on his shoulder.
His Lucern Hammer being used as an oversized walking stick. Coming down the stairs and rounding the corner Simon makes his way to the common area. He had planned on discussing swapping spells with an upper classman.
After services, Anglon heads to the large common area to practice his spells. He did so love them. The way his hands moved, the way his body shifted, the way his voice sounded, they all made him happy. His practice was more like meditation for him.
He spent most of this time with his eyes closed just going through the motions. Sometimes he could feel a slight breeze in his hair. A rush of pleasure would come over him and he would pause for a moment to catch his breath and calm down.
He could see that his peers starting to wonder in and talk about something. Anglon was sure that if it was important someone would come and get him.
Anglon closed his eyes again, and returned to his motions, trying not to draw too much pleasure from them.
Grateful students file out of the alchemy lab, looking forward to breaking fast before their next class. Following them is the tall, stern figure who instructs them in the absence of Chief Alchemist Rathuul.
Polishing the mercurial hourglass with a spotless cloth, Caillus looks down the hallway to see several senior and graduate students moving toward the common area. He watches the sway of the young apprentice who spoke in his class earlier as she continues down the hallway. She turns before turning around the corner, locking eyes with him and flashing a flawless smile.
With a light grin of his own, he places the glass on a counter and locks the lab door. Waving off a few offers to join him to break fast (who sacrifices mid-day efficiency by eating so late?), he follows to the commons anyway.
Just to socialize.
Relaxing in hot water is a bliss. Maybe he shouldn't get used to it but Denat takes advantage of the time spent to study his spellbook. A waterproof book is only one of the many good reasons to work hard to earn money.
As soon as he's ready, Jamir brings him his clothes, without forgetting the full-length white gloves. Even if he's still in his private suite, he prefers to be careful.
Whistling a popular tune learned from a Kintargo diva, Denat makes his way to the common area, feeling in his mind the nearly irrepressible need to learn something new, to increase his power.
Maybe I could persuade someone to swap spells with me ... or I should ask Hargan about that caravan...
"Good morning, all. Has anyone seen Arioch? I had something to ask him."
Thkrull prowls around the common area, sticking his nose toward anyone who might possibly have some food he's not planning to finish.
Should have ate her breakfast. Then I wouldn't be so hungry ... Why don't no one here have no food?
"Speak the bastard's name & he shall appear!" As Arioch enters the common room. "How may I be of assistance to one so lovely & talented as yourself?"
"Oh!" Taerine jumps slightly as Arioch startles her with his entrance. A dull crimson blush coats her green skin at his words.
"Well, I have this hourglass I'm trying to enchant, but I can't quite figure out some of the formula. I feel I should be able to make moments of time ebb and flow with it, but I'm just having a little trouble. I thought you might be able to help?"
"I'm flattered you think so highly of my arcane acumen. Manipulation of temporal energies is wizardry of a significantly higher magnitude than meager talents, unfortunately."
"Have you considered speaking with Caillus? It would seem likely more area of expertise."
Grey entered the common room carrying and floating a handful of steaming plates, setting them down in front of the senior acolytes without a word, knowing the ones currently absent would arrive soon if they were hungry.
None of them had ever seen him eat, but he was quite an excellent cook.
While the others began their meal he walked the perimeter of the room, prestidigitating furniture and shelves to spotlessness and putting away books and trinkets left out of place.
As usual simon sits at the seat with the smallest serving and helps his raven off his shoulder and down to the plate. She proceeds to help herself.
"Oh, I suppose I could ask him," Taerine says, surprised. "But yes, maybe he would be able to help him. He does seem to know a certain amount about time..."
She'll approach the older man, holding out the hourglass to see what he thinks. "Caillus?"
Thkrull moves toward the table as Grey places the food down.
"You ain't going to eat this?" he asks in his growly voice as the masked man moves away. "No, don't feel you got to. I got it."
He begins tucking in to the first dish of food, not seeming to care about the bits that he's missing as he takes massive mouthfuls as quickly as he can.
Smiling and still whistling softly, Denat takes a seat near Simon and helps himself, dividing the food in 3 parts. He lets the black cat who stays on his shoulders eat the first, puts the second one on another plate available to Thkrull and begins to eat the last (and largest) one.
"Enjoy your meal" he tells the other student. "I hope you have a nice day. Learned something interesting lately ?"
"Ooh, for me?" Thkrull says, his mouth full of food already. "You shouldn't have." He gulps down the remaining plateful in front of him and then moves over to help himself to part of Denat's.
Comfortably seated on his master's shoulders, Zekat purrs happily. With a casual movement of his paw, he magically lifts the food and begins his meal, giving the raven a wink at the same time.
Smiling and still whistling softly, Denat takes a seat near Simon and helps himself, dividing the food in 3 parts. He lets the black cat who stays on his shoulders eat the first, puts the second one on another plate available to Thkrull and begins to eat the last (and largest) one.
"Enjoy your meal" he tells the other student. "I hope you have a nice day. Learned something interesting lately ?"
"I discovered a type of cold energy that when added to such spells causes a feedback that hampers targets. It's rather interesting. I've decided to combine it with snapdragon's and my own twist. Though I haven't tested it yet."
"I also wanted to talk to you about swapping spells. My needs thus far have been limited, but i've concluded that I should add to my options. Would you be open to that?"
Molly eyes the cat cautiousl. and the two lock eyes momentarily.
"Don't even think about it, furball. "
Achoo!
Ah, Denat must be here. Anglon had always tried to be nice to everyone and everything, except cats. No mater what he did, magic, potions, it didn't matter. He was allergic to cats.
Achoo! he let out again. His concentration was broken now, he might as well head over to his friends and partake of the delicious smelling meal.
Good morning everyone! I didn't you any of you at services today, but I'm sure Lissala loves you anyway.
He sat down in an empty seat and grabbed a plate.
Thank you for the meal, Grey. I'm sure it's delicious as always.
Grey looked back over his shoulder and nodded, "It was my pleasure, Mr. Anglon." he intoned in a low baritone that was muffled by his mask.
"You're welcome Thkrull" he answers with his usual cheerful smile before turning his attention to his neighbor.
"That's interesting Simon. Perchance, while studying this cold energy, did you find a way to cover an area with ice or snow ? I'd like to try something but I need ice on the ground and I don't think I want to wait for winter. Anyway, I'm always open to trading or swapping spells. That's half the fun of learning new spells."
The other half being actually learning the spell and increasing his power, of course.
Denat stops eating to welcome the newcomer.
"And a good morning to you Anglon"
Sorry about Zekat
"You're welcome Thkrull" he answers with his usual cheerful smile before turning his attention to his neighbor.
"That's interesting Simon. Perchance, while studying this cold energy, did you find a way to cover an area with ice or snow ? I'd like to try something but I need ice on the ground and I don't think I want to wait for winter. Anyway, I'm always open to trading or swapping spells. That's half the fun of learning new spells."
The other half being actually learning the spell and increasing his power, of course.
Denat stops eating to welcome the newcomer.
"And a good morning to you Anglon"
Sorry about Zekat
"I do not have a spell that specifically puts ice on the ground. However, I could create a flaming sphere out of cold fire. WIth that we could freeze any residual water into a sheet of ice as needed. "
There's no mistaking the appreciation in Caillus' eyes as Taerine nears, but the hourglass immediately pulls him into focus. He whispers charmingly for a few seconds as he turns the glass and frame over.
It's certainly of sufficient quality to hold enchantment, Miss Doumont, but you still need qualities that resonate with the sort of magic you need. Take my hourglass, for example. It has a frame of pure silver, and is full of the fine sand left behind when time is distorted. Most don't ever recall or recover it, so you have to look very carefully. Those two components make for an excellent temporal enchantment. It helps to have that divine essence bind the magic to your relic.
He turns the glass over again before handing it back, releasing it precisely as the young girl takes hold. Wonderful potential, though. What sort of enchantment did you have in mind for it?
"That's interesting. Maybe lacking in discretion," Denat smiles, " but we could work on that and test it ..ever went to the Serpent's run in Magnimar ? I heard they have nautical exhibitions. I wonder if spellcasting is authorized."
He sighs.
"I guess that wouldn't be a good idea anyway."
The question as to whether the serpent's run in magnimar would allow spellcasting was rendered moot as two small holes were temporarily punched through the fabric of the material plane. Through this wasteful display of arcane energy stepped the student's mentor, Hargran Stonebound.
"Is everyone here? We need to go! Now!"
Reader Stonebound is clutching a scroll in his left hand, and his polearm in his right.
Reader Stonebound appears somewhat frantic - normally a staid and reserved dwarf, it is unlike him to get worked up about anything.
Reader Stonebound is old even for a dwarf. His heart is not strong enough to pump the blood around his body when he gets worked up. The symptoms he is displaying now suggest he is very worked up. The obvious solution is simply to sit calmly for ten minutes or so and drink some water.
Though an exception Telportation mage himself, Reader Stonebound has always lambasted those who use teleportation frivolously. The risk of being stranded on another plane are remote - but possible. Given his rooms are a few minutes walk away it is unlike him to teleport.
Reader Stonebound is clutching a scroll and his polearm. The scroll appears to be a fairly standard magical scroll, save that this particular scroll has a seal dangling from the bottom, suggesting it has been re-purposed into a legal document.
This is the ceremonial polearm is marked with the symbols of Lissala. Reader Stonebound does not carry this lightly where outsiders can see. Though this place, full of his employees and students, is probably safe, where has he been going to?
Heal
Knowledge (local)
Perception
Sense Motive
Spellcraft
"Hargran, you seem out of sorts. Is everything alright?"
"Sir? Go where? What's wrong?"
"Go? I'm still eating, though," the eidolon says, as he continues to lick up the last remnants of Grey's meal from the plates.
"Is there a problem sir ?"
The cat stops eating and stares at Hargran and his scroll.
Caillus hands the fine glass back to Taerine. Get your creature moving, Taerine. He said now.
As quickly, he addresses the dwarf master We will go now, but you are hurting yourself. You must rest a few minutes once we arrive.
Caillus head to the near room, not turning his head as he sounds off again Get him water, and prepare to hold hands. I'll be a few seconds only.
Mordent rushes back to his near classroom and stretches out his hand for the silver hourglass next to the door. A whisp, imperceptible to those ignorant of the vagaries of time, brushes against the glass, pushing it. Caillus' eyes go wide as the glass begins to fall just out of his reach.
aillargo muin-tempee, the oracle rushes through his teeth and gestures with his left hand. A softly glowing replica of the hand appears beneath the hourglass, catching it and guiding it slowly back to him. He grabs it, the visible disturbance of his hurriedness sending eddies of time across the hallway.
When he returns, he looks to see who is ready. He carries only the glass. His only other act is to cast a brief regretful glance to the young student he'd admired after class.
We are ready, sir.
"Master?" Quickly taking in the master's demeanor & attire, Arioch bows his head in acknowledgment of the command. As you will it Master."
"I am ready to leave at your convenience, Master."
Quietly "He looks like hell. "
"Shh!"
Simon chides.
Hargran pants as he talks
"I've made a... deal with the Swordlords... of Brevoy... My own kingdom... But there was an Accuser... got away... Thrune"
a CR 3 Devil often used as a spy.
Some of house Thrune's best infernalist spies make extensive use of an "Accuser" as some sort of remote spy.
To the servants "Bring everything here now... or run!"
Again to the students
"Still have Teleports... We go, now... First Four."