Post by Delilah Daybreaker on Jul 31, 2021 17:44:05 GMT
Rolled into a palm sized tube is a piece of nondescript parchment around a notice. The nondescript sheet is written in a mix of common, symbols, and elvish.
ASSIGNMENT REPORT #12
People/Organisations of Note:
Little Beastie – trained cat companion
Laurel Shortstride – nature-mage, halfling, non-binary
Osborin – verse maker, aquatic half-elf, male
Veridian – mage, human, male; homunculus companion, Paracleus III
Ruk – mage, githyanki, male
Delphium Ironfist – delver/archeologist, half-orc, female
Sam – mechanical bartender, located in the Bar of Lost Casks in Gaddinthor
Comerath Merroska – once mage of Gaddinthor, now lich, male
Locations:
Fort Ettin – living location
Trecorvum – city at the base of Gaddinthor, Harnash
Gaddinthor – fallen ancient Netherese metropolis, Harnash
Body:
Yet another “adventure” where a previous group of Dawnlanders had done half the job – though in this case I am glad they were not able to complete it. It meant another opportunity to return to the ever fascinating Netherese city of Gaddinthor.
The first report sent on the place called Harnash and it’s two subsequent cities of Tecorvum – the one filled with predominantly orcs, half-orcs, and goliaths, with a few notable tabaxi, gnomes and even centaurs, all more concerned with how buff they look rather than optimising their fitness to their body’s peak abilities – and Gaddinthor – the ancient Netherese metropolis that had so long ago fallen to the earth – was also the first of these Assignment Reports sent. Having grown accustomed to life a bit more thoroughly on the Material Plane this report will endeavour to be more thorough in what it can tell of this fascinating land.
Trecorvum is a city built into three large hills, with a honeycomb of homes, businesses and fitness centres where every citizen spends hours working out. Even our employer, Ironfist, is a markedly well built half-orc despite being an academic. The other thing to note is this society does not deal with gold, which is very unusual for this Material Plane. Rather they barter in items that have an equal or greater value to the service/item they are wishing to buy. A much more familiar system, but tricky with nuance.
The city is also in the midst of a vast, lush jungle meaning even when it rains, like it was the day we were there, it is very hot and very humid. (NB: Little Beastie did not enjoy it.)
Before we set off, Ironfist did give us a little history of Gaddenthor from what she, other delvers and the archeological inclined have been able to find out: A millenia ago the flying city crashed into the earth – sideways too no less like a coin stuck in the mud. It took them centuries to dig it out and have access to any part of it. It has been and will continue to be the biggest archeological project of their lifetime.
Now, the building Ironfist wanted to return to is called the Otada Sanctuary in the north-west quadrant of the city. An old wizard’s club (NB: Veridian perked up considerably at this), it is far away from any of the current places the delvers have been looking at. Ironfist also informed us this Ol’ Wiz’ Club happened to be particularly interested in becoming liches –– secretly, of course. Seems even back then such practices were shunned by any half decent society. Knowing all that going in it made me curious as to why Ironfist would want to find out more, if there was anything beyond purely academic reasons to delve into such a place.
It was not until we were at the ancient Netherese city, passing through the city-like camp that my earlier passing suspicious thoughts were brought into a more prominent light. By the way the two factions/groups reacted to us as we walked through, it was clear their eyes lingered longer on Ironfist one would a former member who has somehow disgraced themselves. She is clearly not welcome amongst them, but neither did they bar her or our way.It is something I am very familiar with.
The two distinct groups could easily be divided as such:
What was interesting to note is these two factions do not seem to mix. Any groups we saw preparing to delve for the day were either all of one or the other. Hence why our group, though a bit heavy on the mage side, clearly had a mix, which was another reason we garnered a mix of linger stares.
All of us came prepared to climb, which was a good thing as Gaddenthor had an anti-air field around it which meant any sort of flying – arcane or even Shortstride’s wildshaping into a bird – would have been cancelled and thus the person would fall to their probable death. Ironfist was not being humble when she said academics and archeologists have been delving into Gaddenthor for centuries for there were reinforced metal platforms built between the buildings closest to the ground, with many a Netherese place being repurposed for work, research or living. As we climbed higher though the metal became wood, then rope and then it was up to our own abilities to climb.
I began to see why they would not skip arm day.
We arrived at the building Ironfist wanted to delve into after an hour’s climb. She told us the previous group of Dawnlanders had only explored two of the rooms. One had contained four Bone Claws – apparently what happens to a person if they fail to become a lich – and one with cloakers. Ironfist was hoping that if she could find any sort of leads, possibly in the library, she could figure out where this secret lich society fit into Gaddenthor and what their sociological position was.
Veridian, the one most excited to find out anything and everything (NB: He lived near a city like Gaddenthor in Faerûn, in a place called High Forest – which was guarded by a lich.). In order to stay in contact he gave us all a telepathic bond, which was a great idea. Until Osborin decided to sing one of his stars-awful songs non stop in our heads.
The first door we went through was labelled “Play hard” in Netherese and Draconic, and it opened into a bar drowned in wine. There was where we found Sam, an interesting mix of mechanical and golem construct whose sole purpose was to serve patrons wine – or other such drinks of choice. Ironfist was ecstatic and tried to ask Sam all manner of questions but it seems like the wizards of yore were smart enough not to keep all their secrets in the very personable construct. We swiftly had to move on if we wanted to find the library – the destination Ironfist sought and Veridian was clearly most eager to get to.
Exploring a building, let alone a whole city turned on its side, is extremely difficult business. Without the Shadows, I do not think I would have been able to move as freely, or to help those with me get to where we sought to go. When entering, the Library was very quiet, except for the soft rustle of paper. Which seemed odd as so far we had found no one else besides Sam.
It was after stepping through Shadows to enter the room that I saw the huge book that would seek to take every bit of knowledge we had from our minds.
And our minds were all connected, thanks to Veridian’s telepathic bonding spell.
The Tome of Devouring, came down, sensed/saw Veridian’s homunculus, Paracleus III – which he had sent into the room with me as a distraction upon me telling them what was within – and latched onto it. The voice that spoke to us was hungry and we all knew if we were to survive it we had to kill it.
And so we fought a giant, flying book.
There were a few moments where it was close, that the Tome tried to barrel roll me off it’s back or when it tried to go into Paracleus’ mind to escape. Both times it failed, and eventually, with daggers and disintegration rays, we managed to stop the book from devouring our minds.
Ironfist and Veridian were, understandably, upset though as it became clear the Tome had somehow devoured all the lore, stories, histories, everything in the library, and there was now a giant hole through half of it. Yet another archeological find that will take years to decode, and only hold half the information.
But then we discovered a lich in the sauna and any upset over the Tome was forgotten by Ironfist.
Comerath Merroska, had been in the sauna the day Gaddenthor fell from the skies. He was pinned down and it was blatantly clear that if any of us opened the door his millenia old, heat and moisture soaked bones would disintegrate into a puddle. His phylactery would obviously create a new body for him somewhere but then there would be an unknown lich walking around in the ancient Netherrese city, and none of us felt comfortable with that.
Ironfist wanted to keep Merroska there so she could speak with him, so only she could find out secret information about Gaddenthor first before any of the other delvers or researchers could.
I have seen a similar look on another’s face before. One that says this is a great advantage to her and she will exploit it for all it’s worth – for her own benefit. Whether the leur of lichdom is a factor she is considering or if it is just knowledge of Gaddenthor I was not able to tell. But such a look on one hungry for knowledge can lead to the temptation of the power such knowledge can bring.
That is why, after our descent back down to Trecorvum, as we were passing through the city at the base of Gaddenthor I slipped away and passed a note to one of the non-mage delvers, those of the more roguish variety. They seemed disbelieving, at first, but what would I, an outsider, have to gain from lying to them?
The others in the party know I told someone but not who. And now this report is telling you.
I will be keeping an eye on this situation, least of all for what a society of wizards who wanted to become liches could mean. They say some of the Netheriese retreated to the Shadowfell when they knew their time was coming, an attempt to stop the inevitable. Maybe I can find my own answers in this ancient city…
Report passed on21 day of The Flowering 30 day of The Flowering.
Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a.
“This recent report reads differently,” a woman’s rich voice comments as her eyes read over the decoded report in her hands.
“Almost like… she is enjoying herself.”
Her eyes reach the end. Plump, ruby red lips curve down in distaste at the elvish scrawled across the bottom. After all this time she still feels the sting of the knife in her back.
She bares her teeth into a smile at the memory.
“My dark bloom, do keep working well for our new Queen,” the woman coos sweetly, rolling the parchment back up and sealing it back into the case it came in. She pauses. “If any more such interesting reports come in, bring them to me.”
“Yes, my lady,” comes the soft reply by her elbow.
“Oh and do try to keep better tabs on her. You staying in that other town and not with her at that adventurer’s lodge will not do. I must be able to know everything she does.”
The cowled figure’s stillness catches the fey woman’s attention. She arches one sharp, dark eyebrow.
“Do you have anything else you wish to report?”
“…No, my lady.”
“Then begone.” She waves a dismissive hand.
Silent as a still night, The Hand departs the room, leaving the beautiful fey woman alone to her thoughts. Pale hands pour a dark red wine into a chalice, swirling it around as it’s brought up to those ruby red lips. She pauses, breathing in its dark aroma.
“Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a,” she says mockingly.
Then she downs the glass, the drink overspilling to trickle down her throat to the valley of her bosom. In the dim light of the room the wine almost looks like blood.
Wanted: Expert explorers and delvers of ancient ruins.
Following on from a successful expedition earlier this year, I have procured funding for a second band of assistants. The ruins of Gadenthor have much still to offer. Climbing gear is essential.
Sincerely,
Delphium Ironfist
Trecorvum, Harnash
Following on from a successful expedition earlier this year, I have procured funding for a second band of assistants. The ruins of Gadenthor have much still to offer. Climbing gear is essential.
Sincerely,
Delphium Ironfist
Trecorvum, Harnash
ASSIGNMENT REPORT #12
People/Organisations of Note:
Little Beastie – trained cat companion
Laurel Shortstride – nature-mage, halfling, non-binary
Osborin – verse maker, aquatic half-elf, male
Veridian – mage, human, male; homunculus companion, Paracleus III
Ruk – mage, githyanki, male
Delphium Ironfist – delver/archeologist, half-orc, female
Sam – mechanical bartender, located in the Bar of Lost Casks in Gaddinthor
Comerath Merroska – once mage of Gaddinthor, now lich, male
Locations:
Fort Ettin – living location
Trecorvum – city at the base of Gaddinthor, Harnash
Gaddinthor – fallen ancient Netherese metropolis, Harnash
Body:
Yet another “adventure” where a previous group of Dawnlanders had done half the job – though in this case I am glad they were not able to complete it. It meant another opportunity to return to the ever fascinating Netherese city of Gaddinthor.
The first report sent on the place called Harnash and it’s two subsequent cities of Tecorvum – the one filled with predominantly orcs, half-orcs, and goliaths, with a few notable tabaxi, gnomes and even centaurs, all more concerned with how buff they look rather than optimising their fitness to their body’s peak abilities – and Gaddinthor – the ancient Netherese metropolis that had so long ago fallen to the earth – was also the first of these Assignment Reports sent. Having grown accustomed to life a bit more thoroughly on the Material Plane this report will endeavour to be more thorough in what it can tell of this fascinating land.
Trecorvum is a city built into three large hills, with a honeycomb of homes, businesses and fitness centres where every citizen spends hours working out. Even our employer, Ironfist, is a markedly well built half-orc despite being an academic. The other thing to note is this society does not deal with gold, which is very unusual for this Material Plane. Rather they barter in items that have an equal or greater value to the service/item they are wishing to buy. A much more familiar system, but tricky with nuance.
The city is also in the midst of a vast, lush jungle meaning even when it rains, like it was the day we were there, it is very hot and very humid. (NB: Little Beastie did not enjoy it.)
Before we set off, Ironfist did give us a little history of Gaddenthor from what she, other delvers and the archeological inclined have been able to find out: A millenia ago the flying city crashed into the earth – sideways too no less like a coin stuck in the mud. It took them centuries to dig it out and have access to any part of it. It has been and will continue to be the biggest archeological project of their lifetime.
Now, the building Ironfist wanted to return to is called the Otada Sanctuary in the north-west quadrant of the city. An old wizard’s club (NB: Veridian perked up considerably at this), it is far away from any of the current places the delvers have been looking at. Ironfist also informed us this Ol’ Wiz’ Club happened to be particularly interested in becoming liches –– secretly, of course. Seems even back then such practices were shunned by any half decent society. Knowing all that going in it made me curious as to why Ironfist would want to find out more, if there was anything beyond purely academic reasons to delve into such a place.
It was not until we were at the ancient Netherese city, passing through the city-like camp that my earlier passing suspicious thoughts were brought into a more prominent light. By the way the two factions/groups reacted to us as we walked through, it was clear their eyes lingered longer on Ironfist one would a former member who has somehow disgraced themselves. She is clearly not welcome amongst them, but neither did they bar her or our way.
The two distinct groups could easily be divided as such:
- One: People dressed in leathers, rolls of tools at their sides meant for getting past locks or for tricking traps not to spring – the rogues and rangers if you will
- Two: Those who carry spells in books, discussing magic and the arcane – mages and bookish types
What was interesting to note is these two factions do not seem to mix. Any groups we saw preparing to delve for the day were either all of one or the other. Hence why our group, though a bit heavy on the mage side, clearly had a mix, which was another reason we garnered a mix of linger stares.
All of us came prepared to climb, which was a good thing as Gaddenthor had an anti-air field around it which meant any sort of flying – arcane or even Shortstride’s wildshaping into a bird – would have been cancelled and thus the person would fall to their probable death. Ironfist was not being humble when she said academics and archeologists have been delving into Gaddenthor for centuries for there were reinforced metal platforms built between the buildings closest to the ground, with many a Netherese place being repurposed for work, research or living. As we climbed higher though the metal became wood, then rope and then it was up to our own abilities to climb.
I began to see why they would not skip arm day.
We arrived at the building Ironfist wanted to delve into after an hour’s climb. She told us the previous group of Dawnlanders had only explored two of the rooms. One had contained four Bone Claws – apparently what happens to a person if they fail to become a lich – and one with cloakers. Ironfist was hoping that if she could find any sort of leads, possibly in the library, she could figure out where this secret lich society fit into Gaddenthor and what their sociological position was.
Veridian, the one most excited to find out anything and everything (NB: He lived near a city like Gaddenthor in Faerûn, in a place called High Forest – which was guarded by a lich.). In order to stay in contact he gave us all a telepathic bond, which was a great idea. Until Osborin decided to sing one of his stars-awful songs non stop in our heads.
The first door we went through was labelled “Play hard” in Netherese and Draconic, and it opened into a bar drowned in wine. There was where we found Sam, an interesting mix of mechanical and golem construct whose sole purpose was to serve patrons wine – or other such drinks of choice. Ironfist was ecstatic and tried to ask Sam all manner of questions but it seems like the wizards of yore were smart enough not to keep all their secrets in the very personable construct. We swiftly had to move on if we wanted to find the library – the destination Ironfist sought and Veridian was clearly most eager to get to.
Exploring a building, let alone a whole city turned on its side, is extremely difficult business. Without the Shadows, I do not think I would have been able to move as freely, or to help those with me get to where we sought to go. When entering, the Library was very quiet, except for the soft rustle of paper. Which seemed odd as so far we had found no one else besides Sam.
It was after stepping through Shadows to enter the room that I saw the huge book that would seek to take every bit of knowledge we had from our minds.
And our minds were all connected, thanks to Veridian’s telepathic bonding spell.
The Tome of Devouring, came down, sensed/saw Veridian’s homunculus, Paracleus III – which he had sent into the room with me as a distraction upon me telling them what was within – and latched onto it. The voice that spoke to us was hungry and we all knew if we were to survive it we had to kill it.
And so we fought a giant, flying book.
There were a few moments where it was close, that the Tome tried to barrel roll me off it’s back or when it tried to go into Paracleus’ mind to escape. Both times it failed, and eventually, with daggers and disintegration rays, we managed to stop the book from devouring our minds.
Ironfist and Veridian were, understandably, upset though as it became clear the Tome had somehow devoured all the lore, stories, histories, everything in the library, and there was now a giant hole through half of it. Yet another archeological find that will take years to decode, and only hold half the information.
But then we discovered a lich in the sauna and any upset over the Tome was forgotten by Ironfist.
Comerath Merroska, had been in the sauna the day Gaddenthor fell from the skies. He was pinned down and it was blatantly clear that if any of us opened the door his millenia old, heat and moisture soaked bones would disintegrate into a puddle. His phylactery would obviously create a new body for him somewhere but then there would be an unknown lich walking around in the ancient Netherrese city, and none of us felt comfortable with that.
Ironfist wanted to keep Merroska there so she could speak with him, so only she could find out secret information about Gaddenthor first before any of the other delvers or researchers could.
I have seen a similar look on another’s face before. One that says this is a great advantage to her and she will exploit it for all it’s worth – for her own benefit. Whether the leur of lichdom is a factor she is considering or if it is just knowledge of Gaddenthor I was not able to tell. But such a look on one hungry for knowledge can lead to the temptation of the power such knowledge can bring.
That is why, after our descent back down to Trecorvum, as we were passing through the city at the base of Gaddenthor I slipped away and passed a note to one of the non-mage delvers, those of the more roguish variety. They seemed disbelieving, at first, but what would I, an outsider, have to gain from lying to them?
The others in the party know I told someone but not who. And now this report is telling you.
I will be keeping an eye on this situation, least of all for what a society of wizards who wanted to become liches could mean. They say some of the Netheriese retreated to the Shadowfell when they knew their time was coming, an attempt to stop the inevitable. Maybe I can find my own answers in this ancient city…
Report passed on
Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a.
“This recent report reads differently,” a woman’s rich voice comments as her eyes read over the decoded report in her hands.
“Almost like… she is enjoying herself.”
Her eyes reach the end. Plump, ruby red lips curve down in distaste at the elvish scrawled across the bottom. After all this time she still feels the sting of the knife in her back.
She bares her teeth into a smile at the memory.
“My dark bloom, do keep working well for our new Queen,” the woman coos sweetly, rolling the parchment back up and sealing it back into the case it came in. She pauses. “If any more such interesting reports come in, bring them to me.”
“Yes, my lady,” comes the soft reply by her elbow.
“Oh and do try to keep better tabs on her. You staying in that other town and not with her at that adventurer’s lodge will not do. I must be able to know everything she does.”
The cowled figure’s stillness catches the fey woman’s attention. She arches one sharp, dark eyebrow.
“Do you have anything else you wish to report?”
“…No, my lady.”
“Then begone.” She waves a dismissive hand.
Silent as a still night, The Hand departs the room, leaving the beautiful fey woman alone to her thoughts. Pale hands pour a dark red wine into a chalice, swirling it around as it’s brought up to those ruby red lips. She pauses, breathing in its dark aroma.
“Neh diis lus’a, lus diis’a,” she says mockingly.
Then she downs the glass, the drink overspilling to trickle down her throat to the valley of her bosom. In the dim light of the room the wine almost looks like blood.