Campaign log 09-15-2006

[Theylan]

Alteru, Campaign log 091506

We had followed the sun elf for quite a while, half to keep an eye on her and make sure nothing went wrong and half out of wonder why someone would travel alone in these dangerous times, especially tel’quessir, as we are all targets of the Drow. She seemed oblivious to us, and Tari and I couldn’t decide if it was arrogance or confidence that kept her head high and steady pace. You never can tell with sun elves many are powerful wizards which could mean both confidence and arrogance. But as my father says either without ability equals ignorance and death. So we watched wanting to know which it would be for this lone traveler.

She was quite resolute in her direction, never pausing to ask for guidance. Once we realized it was the Mote House she was heading for the answer to our musings was given “ignorance and deathâ€

[Greylen]

[Boric Glanduum]

September 15, 2006--session notes

Derlend; {bad luck} indeed! No sooner had we dispatched the fell tomornkin durgarn {undead dragon} than it was clear we were facing a formidable evil. Another mass of magmornderen {undead creatures} emerged from the interior of the moat house, quickly moving down the steps to engage us in battle. A thorkolvir {necromancer} of some power must be at their backs, directing their actions with great valdar {cowardice}. This thorkolvir needs to be stopped; the ing abominations he controls chill me blood. It's just not natural to have to kill somethin' twice. There's no honor in fightin' these puppets and no honor in usin' these things to do yer fightin' for you.

There he is! I can just see him in the darkness at the top of the stairs. Tel! With me so far away, too! Me axe wants nothin' more than to drink deep of their foul blood; I can only hope that me friends leave some standin' ‘til I get there. Not having had much of a chance to have a go at the durgarn (at least, this time around), I was more'n ready to slake Urglanthur's thirst with the flesh of these vile creatures, even if the flesh is rotten and loathsome. I squeezed the haft of me axe even tighter, twisting me hands around the leather wrappings. I squeezed hard enough that several of me knuckles popped from the pressure. Loosened ‘em up, it did! The Beast was just too close to gettin' free; I was more'n ready to blow off some steam with a wee bit o' arglary {a proper butchering}. I had to hum a small tune to keep it under control; ‘twasn't as good as outright singin' woulda done, but it helps just enough.

By the stones! Would you believe it? Nyrvald went ahead and turned them nasty magmornderen to dust with one o' his prayers. Just look at him up there--that hurm {human}, holdin' out his holy symbol.... Hah! Hah hah! Someone who didn't know him any better would think he was so smug, so proud o' hisself, would bet he didnae even think of sharin'. I know better; I know better than most how much it must gall him to have that axe tied to his wrist; to be reminded of his mistake--his dishonor--every time he steps into battle. In that, he is much like me: I, too, am reminded of me shame every time I stride into a fight; and every time the Beast rise within me, all the while knowing that it can never fully be loosed; without the change bein' possible fer me, I can never be sure of controllin' the Beast if I let it go.

No sooner had Nyrvald turned the magmornderen to dust than three more olven rushed past me. Talk about proud--these three took the cake. Just horned in and acted as if they'd been invited to join the fray. Just pushed their way in, they did. Just typical! One of ‘em was a glosdin olv {Sun Elf} by her looks. They just focused right in on the thorkolvir like arrows on a bulls-eye. Me axe certainly ain't gonna see much ‘less I can make me way there before ‘em. ‘Course, if history is any measure, an olv willnae last very long around us, so mayhap i neednae worry overmuch.

Barr brought up some o' his marnarn {magic} lights to illuminate the interior of the moathouse and the thorkolvir bolted. Treebrother quickly took on his wolf-form and joined Aon in puttin' their noses to good use, runnin' into the moathouse. The olven followed the frus {animals} into the near-dark and two of ‘em went down the inner stairway after the horm {cleric} at a good run, just as I got to the stairs. The final olv--the glosdin olv--pushed me right outta the way on the stairway to follow her fellow olven down the stairs, leavin' me and Nyrvald to bring up the rear. The B[/i]east rose quickly as the she-olv pushed past, but I was just as quick to rein it back in! I suppose it wouldnae do, after all, to bury me axe in the olv's back right now.

Descendin' the stairs, listening to Nyrvald clank his way down in front of me, I pondered the [u]Beast--I had plenty of time, after all; the horm is about as agile as a mulgtilkin {golem} in all his armor. The Beast, however... the Beast was getting stronger, it seemed, and harder to control. It was more likely than ever to rise up at any time--whether opportune or not. It seems as though the more I try and control it, the more it rebels. I fear somethin' within me is comin' to a head; I remember that this happened back home, on occasion. Once in a while, one's Beast would rise too quickly and draw too heavily on one's strength and became uncontrollable. Such chaos would usually bring madness, incapacity, and sometimes a self-inflicted death...if they were lucky. Otherwise, these derlend[/u] souls would be locked away--in part for their safety and in part for others' safety. Many years ago, some of these [i]derlend[/u]s were put down by the [i]dwarkarclanggrim {essentially "clan elders"} in their frus grenazandin {insanity}. When such a Beast was free, dwarauk {clansman} and dannik {hearth-mate} looked no different than the most wicked of enemies. It was a part of our lives that was neither pleasant or--I suppose--completely unexpected, all things considered. At times I could understand the fear; even now I thirsted... hirsted..... Not for blood, I am not that far gone--but for the heat of the sport--yes, sport! of a good arglary.

Gren! One o' the olven is lookin' at me strange. The olven and the frus were stopped for a moment. Maybe me desires are a bit too obvious and a bit misunderstood. Funny--this olv looks like he'd be alright in a good rough-and-tumble; he carries hisself that way. But he doesnae seem to have a rim {blade} on him, least ways not out in the open for all to see. Certainly he ain't carryin' a rim of any substance, any way.

Suddenly the olv took off runnin'--the wolves were out in front, but he was doin' a good job of stayin' with ‘em. When we finally caught up, they had run our prey to ground. Treebrother reported that the questions they'd put to the thorkolvir villain were answered with babbling and a rambling discourse about the "Dark Lord." Treebrother seemed to have accepted these new olven rather quickly--he should know about such things, so perhaps I need to give ‘em a chance.

Treebrother began speakin' to the grenazandin hurm as if he was the man's "Dark Lord." The idiot led us right ot the edge of the hole we'd found earlier. I think Treebrother pushed the man too far with his act, however, because the man promptly threw hisself right down the hole. Didnae even scream. Went a good ways, too, before he hit.

There was a platform just inside the hole, rigged with a pulley system, a yauthtil {mechanical elevator}. We climbed in and I began to lower us down into the abyss. The olv Altiru jumped down into a tunnel running perpendicular to the passage, rather than riding down on the pulley. His light-hearted acrobatics almost turned to tragedy, as his weight threw the platform off-balance when he jumped back aboard. The shift in weight was almost too much for me arms to bear, but I managed to hang on to the rope so we didnae fall. Nyrvald wasnae so gullend and toppled off the edge of the platform.

The she-olv--Edynn, I think she said her name was--the she-olv moved quickly, I have to give her that. Nyrvald hadn't fallen but a short distance when Edynn's spell took effect and caught him tight in webbing that stretched across the cavern below. That gave us the time we needed to pluck him back onto the platform. Needless to say, the hurm was more than a little shaken up.

It wasn't long before the yauthtil set down. The surface was slick, cold rock. It had almost a slimy feel to it, and was blacker than night. I could almost taste the evil in the air. The rock was slippery enough that, even though I went ahead alone, it was difficult to make progress. The others hooked ropes together and came across themselves. Hanging from the edge of this rock surface was another yauthtil. This time, we tied a rope around the hoist-lines so noone would fall off this time.

As we started downward, again courtesy of the strength in me arms, Treebrother and the kuldar {warrior} olv had turned ito smoke. Almost immediately, we were attacked by a strange floating creature. It looked like a large brain, trailing tentacles, with a sharp, wicked beak. It grabbed the kuldar olv's sister and lifted her off the yauthtil and into the air. I had to start hoisting us back up to keep within range of the beastie. Spells and arrows were flyin'--I was too worried about keepin' us from plummeting into the darkness to take much note of the battle raging around me.

[TheDM]

[Zanther]

That is classic Troy

[Ghostwheel]

That should take care of the blasted undead thing. Serves me right for not following my teachings. We lost a few companions due to my oversight of leaving a dead dragon where it could rise with the power of the undead. Not this time. We finished it off as it was about to finish the rest of us off.

As we were making sure nothing would rise again, the druid and others notices more elves coming into the courtyard. We were cautious and confirmed their intentions. Just as we were introducing, a mass of undead skeletons came through the doorway close to where the secret passage lay. I heard the chanting coming from a farther source that was sure to be an evil cleric calling these foul things from the grave.

Having had enough undead for the day must have inspired me as the druid and Aon went in pusuit of the evil cleric, I called upon Tempus' might with greater ease than I have ever felt and in one turning the entire floor of undead burst into dust. Hve to remember that feeling. I think this place thrives on the deep power below. How close I was to the truth we would only too soon find out.

Continuing the chase, by the time I caught up I was only there a few moments when our captive flung himself through the deep hole in the earth. We decended a bit slower using the elevator instead of the fast express route he had taken. As we passed the first alcove, one of the new arrivals jumped from the alcove where he was scouting and caught me off guard. Before I knew what was happening, I was taking that express lane to the bottom of the chasm. Luckily, the sorceress caught me in a mass of webbing she flung to stop my accelerating decent. I tied on to the middle of the elevator for the remainder of the decent.

The Monolith was pulsing with cold dark evil. It almost brought the last meal to the back of my throat whlie we had to traverse to the second elevator. All our attention was on it until someone spotted the floating ballon coming closer. The druid and elf had descended in gas form thanks to a new spell. As we began to engage the multi legged creature and were not faring well, they both returned to the platform to assist. Whatever meanace lay below would not get the benefit of their surprise arrival. I healed as much as I could spare considering we may need more as our enemy was vanquished, but we continued to explore below...