#91 - Rest and Refutation

As told by Magnus of the Island of Seren.

This place seemed out of time to me. It is like that place where I saw Lucerix, it doesn’t seem connected to the rest of the world, even though in this case I know it must be. These two giants from a faraway land—perhaps as far as Argonnessen—are guarding the area, there is a floating tower, a wizard who flew around the summit on a carpet, and much of the space open to the sky. Yet none of the mighty powers has ever heard of it and we followed a secret door to get here. Why hasn’t a sky ship looked down in here before? Have they not thought to look? This ruin holds fascination for the ages yet here we are first to see it? Something is going on and magic is surely involved.

We rested as best we could, we bathed in the clean water, and looked over the runes and drawings again. I tightened up all the stitches holding me together and Cypher worked on Rungo during the night with his tinkering tools.

There was a dragon nearby, bound invisibly within four standing stones as if it were a cage. She was red by shape and attitude, but not by color. The true children of Eberron pride themselves on the hue, luster, and majesty of their scales, so this did not bode well. Her scales were colored like smoke, like shadow, and like a beast of Khyber she shunned the daylight when it fell upon her the next morning. In any case, at the time I was in no condition to deal with dragons. Every part of me hurt. So I waited.

When we awoke, morning had come, and we made our way to the dragon. Clarion went first but was first approached by one of the giants. He was warned, "Do not venture too near, for while she cannot move, her breath cannot be caged." I deemed that, given her age as a young adult red, her killing breath could reach no further than thirty or so feet. I chose some distance beyond that. After a few long minutes of looking each other over, the dragon bid me to free her.

Talking with dragons is always dangerous, they are much smarter than I am and they can be very tricky.  I revealed that I was from Seren, though I think she knew that by my appearance and smell, and the dragon and I talked about the recent happenings there. Vaguely. It wasn’t too long before it declared that it was on the side of "the victor." As we talked, I decided that this dragon was in league with the demons who are working to overthrow the world's well-ordered balance.

Illustration by friend Craig Spearing!

I refused to free the dragon, so she threatened me. I told it that it was best left caged.  Talking with the stone giantess Ūral she revealed that Elidac, the wizard above, had overpowered the dragon and that she herself had been the one to bind her between the stones. That cannot be an easy task, even for a fallen dragon. I asked for permission to kill the dragon and she said to take it up with the wizard in the tower.

We agreed that it was time to ascend the stairs that up to the tower.  Ūral asked each of us for a "treasure or secret of the recent or distant past"  as tribute. This was the price of entry.

Kard offered the teeth of vanquished monsters, for he had intended for them to be wrought into a shield of his faith. I gave my ring of the Carnival of Shadows and when she asked why, I told her about the festivities and games of the elves of this and how the ring bore witness to better days and glad times. She and her companion Kurōne shared a look and a brief discussion about the strangeness of this realm—more evidence that they are not from Khorvaire at all. Perhaps they are more estranged than I in this land. At least I am the proper size.

Cypher seemed unable to understand her request, he started revealing tactical secrets which had no interest for her and then waited to try again. Clarion offered small carved wooden figures, whose significance I didn't myself understand, but the giantess accepted them. Aleae allowed the giantess to peer into her scrying orb which described her Feywild homeland. Simel revealed the greatest of secrets: he was a changeling, not human at all! He even reshaped his face and body to resemble mine! He had never looked so good, and may never again. A shame that his tricksy changeling flesh cannot make him a strong as the dragons have made me.

Cypher tried again with tales of his time in war and his personal struggles as a made being. This held her attention, though she asked pointed questions about it, and at last she let him pass.

Our legs were burning after the long spiral stair. At the top, there was a chamber with tables, books, potion bottles, and a door. While the party looked at the books on the table I pushed the door, but nothing happened. After messing with the book and speaking about intricate drawings within it, and a bookmark, a carved symbol appeared on the face of the door.

So I pushed it again. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the futility of this mission. Why was the party seeking out wizards and lost realms when our prey, the vampire—Governor Trazzen, an actual enemy we knew needed to be dealt with—was below, bringing in monstrous hordes by teleportation. And where were we? Idling up above in a floating tower that was not our business.

We should descend immediately and leave this ridiculous place! All of my companions were fools. And they were wrong about this.

In frustration I started yelling at the party that this was a fool’s errand. They fiddled with the book some more and somehow, by dumb luck, managed to open the door—which led up some stairs that obviously led outside the towers' perimeter (more misleading magic). Like idiots, like dumb sheep bleating outside a dragon's cave, they started to ascend further, tempting fate, asking for doom!

This was a waste! In frustration, I moved to one of the other tables and started dropping vials from the table over the edge, letting them fall and smash on the stones below. Perhaps that would command their attention and bring them back to their senses. Clarion and Cypher came to try to stop me and caught one of the vials. Who cares? This is the wrong way and we should leave now. Our true quest is not bound to some wizard hermit and his pet giants.

#90 - Gorgons and Giants

From the Journal of Clarion Tritone, Champion of Dol Arrah, Vassal of the Sovereign Host 

We had to stay alert. Our journey through Glyphstone Keep had tested our resolve and abilities repeatedly and we had found ourselves incessantly harried. While we found a reprieve at the bottom these stairs, surrounded by fresh air and able to cleanse our exteriors in pure waters, stairs which lead to something unknown, my mind was still focused on the horrid visage of the minion of Azohirr. Great evils roam these planes, yet the fallen exalted and divine, often former angels, who turn their efforts against their former allies upset me to the core.

Being able to unleash the light of Dol Arrah upon this creature and feeling how her power drove the beast back to its original plane of pain and despair filled most of my thoughts while we were waiting and trying to regain at least some of our energies.

The occasionally sound of hooves coming from above kept us wondering what awaited us. The sounds were clearly not those of a horse. The only other sound was that of Simel coughing ever more viciously. Somehow he must have inhaled a significant amount of the spores we encountered on our recent ascent.

Once we had rested a while we clearly heard someone or something approaching with heavy footsteps. Aleae has grown in resolve and confidence and immediately rose up the stairs to meet whatever we was coming. I indicated that we should spread out on these stairs in order not to be a simple target, huddled together.

It seemed befitting that it was an elemental being that would appear in front of Aleae. The crackling, grinding noises that were exchanged clearly indicated that she spoke in the language of this child of the earth. She became flustered and indicated that a request was made for our number or passage would not be granted.

We slowly proceeded up the stairs and just as I was about to pronounce that there were seven of us,  Simel brushed past Aleae and attacked with a barrage of precise strikes, indicating that this would be our number. What our new companion lacks in patience and diplomacy he makes of for in skill with the blade.

A few ferocious blows from the earthen creature struck before it retreated and became one again one with the earth beneath us—a strategic retreat for an elemental. Slowly we progressed onward, ready for the ground to erupt once again and another round of battle to ensue.

We found ourselves in what appeared to be star-lit ruins bereft of a ceiling and soon become aware that these were but a corner of a truly cavernous space. It eventually became evident that we had reached the ground level of Glyphstone Keep and that it, and most of the levels above it, had been hollowed out and shored up along each of its four sides with towering walls of stone.

It was much to take in, but I discerned in this vast hollow that each corner rose into a tower, while a the roof of the fortress arched into a fifth pinnacle. Floating above the ground in the center and connecting with the central vaulted pinnacle was a hexagonal tower shaped not unlike a obelisk. From its design I believe that it did not originally belong to the goblin fastness this ruin once was. This seemed a new installation, and it seemed only accessible from below in the form of a slender spiral staircase.

Regardless, all of these sites were some distance from the corner where we were emerging. I also glimpsed a small lake, floating chunks of rock above it, distant standing stones, and a veritable mountain of piled rocks forming a edifice of stone one one side. Later I would guess that the rubble and shattered walls that once comprised the ground and upper floors of Glyphstone Keep had been reworked to form this colossal wall.

As we  progressed through the ruins in a staggered, disordered pace and formation—or indeed, no formation at all—we soon heard the unmistakable and now familiar sound of Magnus jumping into a fierce rage and engaging an enemy. In this case, he had commenced battle with the mysterious hoofed being.

Quickly I rush towards the commotion and in awe at the sight of a gorgon, a creature of legend and the heraldric symbol of House Cannith. Appearing as a bull sheathed in scales of metal, what a magnificent creature it was—and well know for its powerful breath that can turn its victims into stone. By the time the rest of us, save for Kard, had arrived to assist Magnus we had happened to align ourselves perfectly so that the beast could engulf us all with a cloud of its breath attack.

Magnus and Cypher were instantly stricken, freezing up and clearly battling with the magical fumes. I sought the blessings of Dol Arrah, so that they could swiftly escape the clutches of this vaporous curse and they were granted: After a brief struggle, neither human nor warforged were rendered into stone.

Predictably Aleae used the unpredictable magic of her wonderous wand and turned the gorgon unintentionally into a temporary but vaporous form. We were mutually unable to harm the other and seeing a group of winged, human shapes take flight in our direction from atop the distant wall of stones in this vast cavern, I felt this could be an opportunity to make a run for the staircase we had made out at the center of the space, leading up to the floating hexagonal tower. From all we knew this was likely to be the place where we could find Elidac, the Brelish wizard who, according to legend, had come to Glyphstone several years ago. If we could find him, he could possibly provide answers to many of our questions.

Click for larger view.

Before we could regroup and be on our way, the gorgon rematerialized. Unwilling to strike this creature I nonetheless supported my companions in other ways.

After an incredible attack from Simel, in which he unhinged the legs of the gorgon with a mighty swoop and then pierced it repeatedly with his rapier in sensitive areas, we heard Cypher in an unusually commanding tone ordering us to stop our attack. As he had been blasted by the gorgon’s vapor while standing on a wall now behind us, he had dropped himself back, out of harm’s way—at least, that is likely what he had intended. We noticed instead that he had placed himself in the immediate reach of a giant’s club that appeared to be larger than Cypher himself.

The giant himself was exceptionally tall, fifteen feet ore more, lean yet muscled with skin the color of stone. Hairless, sleek, and grim, he exuded considerable strength. Stone giants are known to be the most gentle and reclusive among the giants of legend. Unless this giant was an exception, it was likely that we had overstepped a boundary we rightfully should not have.

Click for larger view.

The giant obviously guarded this entrance and had patiently awaited our actions, his rock-like skin granting him the perfect camouflage amidst the high walls around us. Being under constant attack since we had entered Glyphstone Keep had clearly left us with a policy of attack first and ask questions later. It was hard for me to forgive myself for not putting an end to this sooner.

The gorgon who had suffered some severe blows stopped its attacks immediately once the giant commanded it, but its snorts and fuming demeanor clearly indicated that it wished nothing more than to trample and gore us all into pieces. Or possibly rubble.

As the giant emerged from where he had spoken with Cypher, the winged humanoids lit upon the shorter walls of the ruins around us. We could now see they were gargoyles arrived, led by one whose body appeared mottled with green moss. They seemed to be another line of defense to this place that made it ever clearer that we would benefit from leaving our weapons out of these conversations.

We spoke with the giant, who wished to understand what we were doing in this place. We gave some details and said that at this point we wished nothing more than to rest and gather our strengths. He expressed that we needed to speak with "Ūral" and took massive strides towards the caves from where the gargoyles had originated.

Stone giants are allegedly peaceful by nature.
But stay off their lawns, just in case.

While he was away, Kard took special interest in the gargoyles who were mostly eyeing Magnus—for the Seren had defiantly decided to climb a wall and view them on their own level. The cleric spoke with their appeared to be their leader. After what we would quickly learn were his customary incredibly long pauses before responding, the gargoyle said his name was Ventwar. Kard kept insisting that they had met before on the plains outside of Glyphstone Keep, but the gargoyle refused to confirm this. Kard insisted that he did not wish to be the gargoyle's killer and Ventwar said in his harsh voice, "Do not make me your killer." I do not know well the demeanor of gargoyles, but I considered this to be light conversation.

Shortly before this pause-filled conversation came to an end we saw the stone giant reemerge from the cave across the way, now with a second, female giant. She was significantly smaller than him and in garb that indicated some kind of shamanistic status. They were accompanied by an enormous dire bear.

The shaman was soft spoken and wished to understand why we had come to Glyphstone Keep and what we were doing here, particularly within these walls. Visitors must be rare. She said her name was Ūral. Her male companion was Kurōne.

We told her about our mission to find and kill the so-called vampiric Governor Trazzen who had been instated as the lord of Glyphstone Keep. There was absolutely no sign that she had any knowledge of this remnant of a commander or cared who or what he thought he was and what we intended to do with him. Ūral repeatedly urged us to simply leave if we had no stated business for being here, on the upper level of Glyphstone Keep.

We asked if we could rest for a while, for our strength and resources were depleted. In response she first asked us to come with her and take a look at something. Shortly thereafter we stood in front of an intricately carved bas-relief, showing five separate levels carved in elaborate design. This presumably represented the various levels of Glyphstone itself. It might have been part literal, part spiritual, and was clearly was the work of a highly skilled craftsman. Perhaps magic was involved as well.

• The top level depicted the upper ruins and towers, with the hexagonal obelisk. Around it stood five robed figures. Behind them are the taller shapes of the stone giants.
• Just below, the carved level depicted mushrooms, floating orbs, trolls, bipedal insect-like creatures, and tunnels.
• Below that, a great throne room. The hobgoblin golem was represented there, and in one corner was a furnished room with a small horned giant working at a loom.
• Below that, a network of chambers. Many of them looked to have been obliterated and dominated by a vast crater. Ominous, indistinct shapes and skeletons were scattered throughout.
• The lowest level depicted more natural caverns with even more ambiguously-shaped monsters. There were also creatures that appeared like serpents with human heads. More of the crater dominated this level. 

None of us could read the writings beside each depiction, which were in the Giant language, and Ūral did not care to translate once we expressed that none of us were able to read them. She asked us what we thought of all this. I am not sure if she was looking for some kind of specific response or special information beyond the fact that we had seen much of what was depicted and that certain details seemed uncannily accurate.

She asked if we would be leaving if she allowed us to rest. The exact nature of Kard's desire to speak with the Brelish wizard Elidac had not yet become clear to me and his intentions for what he wanted to do once he encountered him remained nebulous, but now that Aleae began to speak up and ask whether we would be able to speak to the wizard, Kard showed slight signs that he would very much desire such a meeting.

At first Ūral was hesitant but shortly thereafter we heard what had to be the Elidac’s own voice, for it filled the air of the cavern, quiet but pervasive. He said, "It is well, Ūral. They may come up, if you approve it, though path to my chambers is not safe. If they reach me, I will ask them a question based on what they have learned from the journey up."

It appeared that he was authorizing Ūral, but the giantess followed this with her own commandment. "You may ascend only at my discretion." She said we would speak of it more only when we were ready. What mattered most then is that we had indeed been granted time and safety to rest for as long as we needed it. At this moment we were also able to see the wizard himself, floating upon a carpet around the top area of the hexagon tower just outside a set of high windows. We could discern no details about him.

Until our meeting we would be free to explore this place, which was obviously full of wonders. I was very eager to further study the stone wall. Was there a link to the Draconic Prophecy? Were we mentioned? What did those words mean?

No matter what else we might uncover here, the hordes of undead and possibly further demons roaming parts of this keep make me restless.

We must cleanse this place.

#89 - Ravaged and Regenerated

From the Analects of Simel, veteran of Karrnath

The floor began to tilt crazily and I coughed up the last of the lungful of pestilence that the hellish gas bag unleashed as it died, if it was ever alive.  The screaming of the guardian fungi did not help me regain my composure, but I tried my best to ascend the mold-slick stairs. I knew Aleae had proceeded to the top , but couldn't see or hear anything of what she found there, over the mind-numbing shrieking. The others were all ahead of me on the stairs, but none of us dared to run with a dark pit beckoning and the slime-covered steps ready to betray a misstep.

I slowed further to place two arrows into the closest shrieker, silencing it.  After what seemed minutes of scrambling up the steps unsteadily, the second quieted as well, its vibrating stalk crushed by one of my companions.  At first I was unsure if what I heard was the howling that now continued as a remembered trauma in my tortured ears or the sound of annoyed trolls coming from the top of the stairs.  But before I could consider what was causing the unseen trolls such grief, another of the beholder-things floated up from the dark pit.  I was closest and almost attacked it, but for Magnus''s gentle reminder not to "touch that gas bag you idiot." Thankful for his advice, I passed it warily and continued up the stairs.  The war machine, Cypher, passed me and grappled the floating thing, yelling for us to "get back."  Once we were clear, he burst the thing like the vile pustule it was, obviously immune to the spores it released. 

At the top of the stairs Clarion, the other war machine in our strange companionship, cast a magical illumination that danced ahead of us down a hallway, revealing two burned and angry trolls flailing about at an unseen assailant. Slaying the two already weakened beasts was no difficult task, but keeping them dead proved a challenge and only acid pored over their repeatedly dispatched bodies ended the battle.

Aleae had kept the creatures more than occupied as the rest of us advanced up the stairs. I can only imagine what transpired, for her to have survived alone and so weakened the creatures before our arrival. The details of her combat, however, were not forthcoming. I will not underestimate the power of this sorceress in the future.

The battle was not without cost.  Cypher, who until now I had only imagined to be like one of the many killing constructs I had fought during the war, cradled his "pet" Rungo. The lesser quadrapedal construct had been crushed by a flailing troll and now I witnessed what I had to admit was mourning by and for a warforged. I had much to consider.

At the end of the hallway, in what smelled like the trolls' filth pit, we found a openable, hidden doorway, beyond which was fresh air and running water.  Clean water flowed from an unseen source and stairs led up towards fresh air, vague daylight, and the distant sound of a some heavily-trodding hooves.

We were exhausted and beyond the momentary respite that the clean air and water gave us, needed time to more fully restore ourselves.  We debated on which side of the door to remain, finally choosing to try to rest in the foul air of the troll lair and not risk encountering fresh opponents ahead.

Our rest, however, did not last long as two trolls emerged from some fungi-filled crack and approached us.  Magnus and I charged them. While I had survived our previous encounters virtually unscathed, but exhausted, Magnus wore several injuries, yet showed no awareness of them as he leapt upon the first troll screaming a battle cry.  What followed was ugly combat bereft of strategy as I stabbed trolls through a haze of adrenaline and pain.  I was aware that Magnus was thrown down and almost immediately rose again, much as the damned trolls didn't have the courtesy to stay dead.  Flashes of magical energy struck the trolls even as we hacked and stabbed at them.  In the end it was only dousing their corpses with acid that ended our bloody dance.  I must remember to carry acid at all times.

Now, fully spent, we resumed our rest on the other side of the hidden door, sitting or lying on slick, but clean steps, or shallow water. I quickly lost consciousness for a few hours, but I couldn't shake the coughing and it woke me frequently. I do not think I am getting better from whatever it was I breathed in.

We were not yet restored to our full fighting capacity when something came down the steps.