Requiem of Oblivion

6/9 Into the Fey Wild

Rayne’s Update
“Welcome to Fey-Ree,” Thorn said as we entered the magic rock. At least that’s what it sounded like he said. Chauncy and I said together, “Fairy?”

Thorn led us to the Eladrin city Mithrendain, ruled by the Maiden of the Moon. We seeked out her help in finding us a door that would drop us in the middle of the purple glowing village, and maybe a few warriors to help clear it out.
She of course had other ideas. It seems opening the Lunar door has more consequences than we were led to believe. Opening it would leave the city vulnerable to attack from their enemies, the Femorians in the Fey Dark. The only way the Queen would help us was if he helped her clear out some pesky Lychanthropes and some Night Hags from Bloodfang Redoubt in Brokenstone Vale. Thorn would be able to lead us there. I hope what they say about how time isn’t moving here is true.
Atropus is coming and he’s not going to wait until we finish all these side quests to get here and enslave us all.
Why can’t all these rulers see that there are greater problems than some ancient feud they have? Call a truce! Gather together to stop Atropus now, and fight each other to the death later. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really the evil one, or they are. At least I’m trying to stop the red star without putting conditions on my helping. And that demon lord is a fool, hindering us every chance he can get just because he has it in for some goddess. He’ll suffer just as much as the mortal realm should we fail.

6-3: We have the chalice!

Rayne’s update

We battled our way through the tomb. I have found that I do not like mirrors. I was thrown in front of one at the beginning of the battle, and before I could strike again I was sucked in. I could see my friends battle the zombies and cultists by themselves. The cultist would not tell anyone how to free someone from the mirror. Chauncy decided to just kill the cultist and figure out the mirrors later. Arshes studied the mirror while the rest of the party distracted the zombies. If you threw someone in front of the mirror, they would be sucked in and the other person inside would be thrown out. A zombie took my place inside, and I ran at the cultist. I stabbed him until he could see his guts falling out of him. I ripped his face off and added it to my collection.

The next room had a glowing platform in the middle of it, and there stood a lackey of Caira trying to steal the chalice from its pedestal. She summoned creatures to defend her. The ghost creatures could enter our bodies and attack others. Arshes was mind raped by one and attempted to take out Chauncy.
We focused our attacks on the lackey, and when she fell so did her minions. Her face was also added to the facebook for completeness.
Arshes took the chalice from its spot and drank from it. It is full of an incredible healing potion.

We made our way out of the dungeon lake. The lake had completely frozen over with black ice. The fishing village was glowing purple. Typical, we finally save some important thing for our quest, and the nearest village gets taken over by bad guys. Well, worse guys than us.
We decided to cut through the fey wild to get to the city instead of crossing the lake. Maybe we can reason with Orcus’ lackeys. He will suffer too if Atropus wins, maybe we can convince him to back off while we take care of this red star of doom.

5-26: The King is Dead

Stepping over the crumbling body of the Dark Pharaoh, the party entered a large audience chamber, complete with pews, and a tall balcony where a pair of Orcus necromancers stood. They summoned their fell servants, but were cut down by the heroes’ combined might. Kaetien had to purge Rayne of a foul infestation of undead worms; she was exhausted by the ordeal. Entering a side room at the balcony level, the party encounters a ghostly apparition of King Torolf flogging himself in penitence for his sins. Amongst the pews below, another ghost of Torolf stood raping a little girl. With baleful expression, the penitent king warns the PCs that in order to secure the key to the vault, they must free his soul from the evil that has consumed it.

Leaving the haunted room, the PCs battle a host of demons from Tartarus while crossing a cavern covered in the abyssal layer’s black ice. Turning to the far side of the cavern where Kaetien stood, the party is shocked to see the cleric impaled upon a massive spider-leg encased in rusted metal! The crippled death knight Throzak the Defiler reveals his new form given to him by his master, General Gorguth. The party was unable to reach him in time to stop his requisition of the Amulet of Al Akbar. Before Kaetien expires, he makes the PCs promise to find his sister and free her from undeath. Disheartened, the party trudges forward.

Soon they enter a caved-in room dominated by an ancient and mysterious standing stone. The Varosi worshipped primal spirits, and very few of these Guardian stones remain intact. Leaving an offering of food, the energies around the stone form a gateway to the Feywild, from which a shifter shaman named Thorn, and his bear spirit companion Brother, emerges. Guided by the elders of his tribe, Thorn has stepped through the portal here to complete his rite of passage. It is a lofty task of helping to rid the world of this undead menace; Atropus will unmake all life, so he will do what he can to help before time runs out. The party agrees to have him join them.

Beyond ornate doors of solid bronze lies the burial chamber of King Torolf the Cruel. Rayne snuck undetected across the chamber to the throne where the dead king’s skeleton sat. After scattering him bones across the floor, four wailing spirits fled the body, into each of the four pillars supporting the tomb. Out of the pillars stepped the four aspects of the shattered psyche: The Heartless, The Conquerer, The Rapist, and The Penitent. Each aspect was overcome by the heroes, though their forms were terrible to behold. Though individual spirit was near as powerful as its final manifestation. The King’s disembodied skull blazed with the combined might of its fragmented evil, unleasheing rays of entropy and soul-shrivelling pulses. Long the PCs fought the ancient spirit, and Torolf was vanquished. An apparition of him appeared before the group, seemingly at peace. He thanked the PCs for freeing his soul of the evil within him, and fades away to be judged by the Raven Queen. Before he disappears, he gives the team the vault key.

Entering the massive necropolis, the party fights hordes of Varosi spirits as they spiral downwards to the bottom of the cavernous hall. Crossing the bridge across water now locked in with obsidian ice, the PCs reach the formidable vault door.

4-1-12 Oh dear! Mummy!

Rayne’s Update

We followed the tunnel up to a 50 foot drop, at the bottom of which was a lake. We debated climbing down a rope to see what was down there, but the cleric noticed there were 4 vrocks sleeping on the ceiling above us. It was decided that maybe going down the other tunnel would be a better option.

The tunnel forked at the end of it. To the right we saw a statue standing over a chest and to the right a pair of doors with two carvings of the king in the book we acquired. We figured it would be a quick trip to pick up what was in the chest then head on over to the double doors. The treasure chest had a simple trap on it, no match for my skills. We easily rescued the treasure within. Of course the chest was guarded. The second I had the item in the bag, the statue came to life. He was no match for our combined might though.

The door proved to be the bigger challenge for our group. It wasn’t a normal lock, so I could not pick it. It needed some sort of magic blast to open, though Gilrush insisted that we need only make faces at it, then it’d open. Since I’m the only one in this party who can’t do even basic magic, I was useless in this venture. After about 20 minutes of screwing around, Chauncy and Gilrush finally unlocked the door.

The room was lined with pillars that looked like the old king. Half of the floor glowed blue, while the other glowed red. Stepping onto the different colors brought about different emotions. On the blue I felt calmer than I thought possible; I could almost part with the facebook and move on with my life.

As I thought these things, the doors in the back burst open. Two giant bone creatures stomped in and hidden behind them was an armored mummy. The colors on the floor suddenly intensified, and in the center of the room they swirled together to form an elemental beast. I almost didn’t want to fight, but I knew if I didn’t strike them down, they would do terrible things to us.
In the midst of the fighting I fell onto the red side. In an instant all of my rage returned; every enemy that had dared to touch me had to die. I threw myself at the elemental, and Gilrush and I managed to take it down easily. At which point it blew up in a ball of fire. Some days, I am glad I was born a Tiefling.

The rage subsided, but the calm did not return. I almost wish the elemental’s power had not faded
with his death.

We were able to take care of the undead enemies. Their claws had been difficult to move past, and the mummy seemed near invincible. I can’t help but feel stronger after such a hard fought battle.

RESOURCE - King Torolf the Cruel

King Torolf the Cruel, author unknown, written in The Age of Tears 2365 (986 years ago)

Torolf, later known as “The Cruel”, was the last king of the native men which lived in the lands of Saboria prior to Sabor Nerelon’s arrival, known as the Varosi. Not many structures of Varosi origin are left standing, though their vast burial tombs are among the most intact. The ruins in which you are delving is the most preserved of Varosi tombs, and also the most infamous, being the sepulcher of the last Varosi King, burned alive by his own people after Sabor Nerelon offered them a life without tyranny while under her rulership. The Varosi were obsessed with the afterlife, and took great pains to preserve the bodies of the dead, and constructed massive necropolises to inter them. Despite the cruelty of King Torolf, the Varosi still respected his strength, and gave him all the proper burial rites befitting his status.

Oh, sundered King/ what
spikes of pain you have
driven into thy kingdom/
Of ragged breath your
weary people curse thy
name/And thou dost laugh
in the voices of the
many men which crowd thy
soul/What horror to live
with four minds in one
mortal shell, what sear
of the spirit to drive
thine own self to madness/
In the darkness of hearts,
In the crucible of anger,
In the cauldron of battle,
In the quiet halls of wisdom.
In Boros’ name we bury you/
with respect and honor, nay
do our hearts forget the blood
thou hast spilt in the soil/
Yet you were our King, the last
of our people/the fires of your
pyre died, as the fate of Varosi
blazed like a beacon on the shore.
Long we drink to you, ’O mad King/
Last of his kind, may you find
peace in Death/ your many selves
free of this mortal coil.

CINEMATIC - Drodasool, Gilrush, & Malar

(The scene opens on a muddy hill sparsely covered with weeds. The hill overlooks the moorlands surrounding Ebonvault Temple, and the burning ruin of a small village. Bodies of the villagers are still warm, as Tiamat’s disciples strip the settlement of all valuables. Two dragonborn children, and a grizzled, blue-skinned one sit on this hill to witness the carnage.)

GILRUSH: They are all dead?

DRODASOOL: Correct, child. Tiamat teaches us to exact total retribution. Mercy is a weakness that divides the spirit and causes one to hesitate. To hesitate is to fail both from within and without. Remember this.

MALAR: Won’t the clergy of Bahamut attack us for slaying these humans?

DRODASOOL: Perhaps, though I doubt it. Korhaviin is younger, weaker, and wise enough realize his position. He should not have slain so many of our warriors, or helped so many of the people living in our territory. By Io’s blood, Tiamat must create balance, else the scales topple, and the end-times begin.

GILRUSH: Who is Io, master? Why must Tiamat and Bahamut follow his orders?

MALAR: Yeah, why doesn’t She just try to kill Him?

DRODASOOL: So young.. I always forget how young you two are. You see, when Gaiya formed the First Gods from her breath, it was Io who was firstborn. He was the first Dragon, and created us in His image.

GILRUSH: Io created Tiamat and Bahamut?

DRODASOOL: In a sense.. But not intentionally. You all remember your lessons on the Dawn War? When the gods took up arms against the mythic Primordials, it took 2-3 deities to bring down one of the great chaos-beings. Even then, many were beyond the gods’ ability to slay permanently, thus the Primordials were imprisoned for all eternity within various divinely crafted prisons, far from our world. Io was the mightiest of the gods, and slew several Primordials before facing one such beast named Huer-Ket. It was a being of monolithic proportions, wielding an axe large enough to cleave mountains. Arrogant in his power, great Io fought this creature alone. No records account for the battle itself, but one thing is certain. Huer-Ket‘s axe cleaved Io in twain with a single blow. From the two halves, our queen Tiamat, and her counterpart, Bahamut were born. Weakened by the battle, the Primordial could not survive the terrible onslaught the two reborn gods inflicted upon it. That was the first and last time the two ever worked with unified purpose.

MALAR: But they do work together, in a way..right? They both try to preserve balance. It makes sense, I didn’t realize they are two halves of a whole. One cannot be without the other.

DRODASOOL: Correct, child. Light cannot be without darkness. The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow that is cast; one cannot overtake the other.

GILRUSH: But what if it does happen? You said it’d be the end-times. What does that mean?

DRODASOOL: Well, it is written on the Wall of Dragonkind that if one of the two ever perishes, the survivor, driven mad by the loss of the other, would seek to cover the world in darkness, or light. Another theory among some members of dragonkind is that perhaps the surviving god would absorb the other’s essence, becoming Io reborn. An optimistic theory, but I don’t think it’s that easy.

MALAR: Is there anything left of Io’s body?

DRODASOOL: An astute question, child. The gods were able to preserve a small quantity of his blood. It was entrusted to both Tiamat and Bahamut, and they both have half the amount locked away in their dominions. There’s also blood stained on the colossal axe that killed him. The weapon is somewhere in the Elemental Chaos, guarded by dragons of all colors. These dragons still worship Io as the true God; our queen sees them as deluded fools, yet useful guardians.

GILRUSH: Why do they guard the blood?

DRODASOOL: There is power in blood, child. The gods protect their blood from falling into the hands of those who would use it against them, or their creations. King and Queen are made from the Firstborn’s ichor; and though they should destroy it to eliminate the risk, both consider it sacreligious to do such a thing. Thus, the blood of Io remains the only known preserved ichor in existence… aside from the Crawling King’s, though his is unique in that it only has power in the Underdark, much like the tortured god himself.

MALAR: The fires have gone out.. Can we go home now?

DRODASOOL: Yes, let us return. Remember this lesson, today.

3-25-11, Alright we got a throne! Oh wait...weren't we after a cup?

Rayne’s update
We ran into a demon painter and a vampiress on a throne. The painting of the demon felt ominous, but we decided to hang onto it. We also found a throne and a chalice in the room. Sadly it wasn’t the chalice we were looking for.

Black ice covered much of the surfaces in the next room. A cool wind blew from the upper level, and a slight ice chipping sound echoed in the room. I hopped on Gilrush’s shoulders to get a better look at the next level. I saw a Vrock staring back as I finished climbing. As we started our battle with the beast the ice chipping stopped and from beneath the ground a swarm of demons burst forth.

We made quick work of the vrock, but the demon swarm proved trickier. Each time someone hit it, it spawned more beasts we had to battle. Luckily it appeared stupid, so it was easy to fool.

3-18-12: The die are conspiring to kill me

Rayne’s update

Gilrush appears to be gaining a following. He’s recruited two dragonborn to Tiamat.
Rordin Darkdelver was surprised to hear that we were going to go to Lake Serenity instead of the underdark. He took back the offer to provide us with supplies for our adventure since he was sending the other delvers in our place.
We left the city and headed to the lake. Many undead wandered the roads, but none were like the hordes we saw in Fourfalls. We arrived at the lake relatively unscathed and met with Lord Varen Imris. He provided us with a boat, named the “Diddly-Dip”, that would deliver us to the island.
The bad guys seem to like to advertise “We are here!” Above the island that is supposed to have the Chalice, the weather is going haywire.
The island was surrounded by black ice, but mostly barren. In the center was a big dome with a staircase leading down to a door that had been ripped off its hinges. There were dead mushroom people surrounding the door.
As soon as we entered the building, we were attacked by followers of Orcus. We managed to beat them after a bad beginning. I think I need to work more on my mobility. Gilrush and I managed to pull out all the worms trying to infest our bodies, and Kaetien made sure we weren’t infected with anything. Those zombies were like the ones created by rot-grubs, but possessing supernatural strength, toughness, and a desire to create new hosts for its controllers.

CINEMATIC - Janra & Chen-Zel

“You’re goin’ the wrong way Delvers.”
Janra steps out from the shadows under a canvas awning. She gives a playful smile and her green eyes flash to the building across the crowded street. Without a word, she strides casually past you, towards the building. Without turning back she asks “you comin’ or what?”

She leads you to a small iron door on the side of the building, hidden from street view. After a complex rhythm of knocks, a whip-thin Drow opens the door, his red eyes scrutinizing the characters. He turns to Janra, “Friends of yours, Jan? They wear the mark of Darkdelver, and they reek of spilt blood. You expect me to let them in without a really good explanation?”

“Peace, Will, these are my friends, and wish no ill on your business. We only wish for entrance to the Warrens below. They will of course pay you for the inconvenience (she glances sidelong at you)”

“Pay me? Oh, yes, indeed. Any friends of Jan’s are mine as well. Come, welcome to my humble establishment.”

(You look to your right, from a balcony, to a large room below, milling with humanoids of all shapes and sizes. Some in finery, some in rags, some of both in chains. Arrayed in a line on a platform is a dozen chairs with iron collars set on the seats. Infront of the chairs stands a Neogi, like the one you encountered in the mines outside Valden. As you hear it speak, you suspect that it is indeed the same one.

“Hear me, citizens of Saboria. The red star approaches, and your leaders are silent to your questions. I will not be silent, for I know the doom that comes for us all. There are those in the Underdark that know the truth, and we are thankful that our lives are safe under the earth, under the King’s protection. Search your hearts and you will know this to be true: the surface isn’t safe anymore. Some of you may think “I will never be a slave, I would rather die.” Tell me, would you rather live a life in bondage, or die in terror, yet continue existence in undeath? Slavery is an ancient custom, which only recently has been deemed “immoral” by your leaders. You may think the masters of the Underdark are cruel, and you are right in that assumption. You may very well die for a minor infraction, but at least you will not stand back up afterwards. You may have to sacrifice you pride, but at least you get fed, clothed, bathed, trained in whatever skills are required of you, and otherwise live a simple life without any trouble. Even the wicked Drow treat slaves well, and allow them some freedoms, including the freedom to mate and have a family. I am a simple businessman, but I know the seriousness of this situation, and I will do what I can to help you all. You may flee into the Shallows unbound to a master, but you will surely die. As a slave, you will be deemed as property, and will pass through the Underdark unmolested. I have with me, 12 opportunities to save lives, before I return to my city. I seek 4 men and 8 women, of breeding age, with practical skills. I will take elders if they are a master at a trade. My offer: 50 pieces of silver. That is all you may take with you, aside from what you have on you now. To some of you, it may not be a lot of money, though to others it’s more wealth earned in a year. Keep this in mind: as a slave, you are not permitted extensive personal wealth. I’m giving you a fortune, even if it may not seem like one.

(The Neogi, steps to the side, sweeping an arm towards the vacant chairs.)

CINEMATIC - Gorguth & Throzak

(The scene opens in a darkened chamber of rusted metal, water drips from above, running down the chains hanging from the ceiling. A throne of corroded spikes stands alone in the center of the grim hall, on a plinth carpeted with bones. A figure shifts uncomfortably in the seat, and croaks wetly “My Lord Gorguth, I have failed you. I deserve nothing except oblivion.”
Coalescing in midair, a mirror of black ice appears before the servant. A violet light radiates from the manifestation, illuminating the horror seated upon the jagged throne. Above the waist, the Death Knight is a vile, corpulent thing whose face is thankfully masked by a rusted helm. However, the undead being’s legs are a pulped waste, mangled beyond recognition; his entrails cascade to the ground, and trail behind the throne along the gory smear he left while crawling to this place.
A face surfaces within the black ice, a gaunt head covered completely by black leather tanned from human skin. Only the eye-sockets are exposed, which are all the more unnerving since this creature has nothing there except empty pits blacker than the Abyss.
It regards the broken form before him with its inscrutable gaze, and speaks in a voice reminiscent of steel scraping bone “You underestimate your value to me, Throzak. I have not forgotten the decades of loyalty you have shown me. My patience has limits, however; do not fail me again.”

THROZAK: “Thank you General, I swear on my soul that I will not fail you again.”

GORGUTH: “Careful what you say Defiler, Orcus will see that you make good on that promise.”

THROZAK: “General, what must I do?”

GORGUTH: “Orcus’ attack on Gaping Maw goes well, but I question our lord’s judgment. An unbridled assault on Demogorgon leaves us vulnerable to other forces, and the Prince of Demons is making us work for every inch of ground we take. How long will it take until the Raven Queen or Abyss-forbid the Lord of Hell himself decides to take action?

THROZAK: “But sir, wouldn’t the Gods be concerned with Atropus? If it achieves its purpose, the souls of all living things on Ramistar would be denied passage to the Astral Dominions.

GORGUTH: “Yes, and that would mean our lord can siphon all their souls to him, obtaining absolute dominion over the mortal world, with power to challenge the gods. Easing its arrival to Ramistar is the task Orcus charged me with Throzak, so what I need you to do is gather the remaining artifacts of good, and find that renegade Lich. Despite her convictions, she has not fully escaped Orcus’ gaze. Bring her here, for I have an offer to make.”

THROZAK:“My Lord, there is one thing… I cannot achieve these tasks without legs.”

GORGUTH: “Your injuries have not escaped my attention Defiler. (Two more sheets of black ice form at either side of Gorguth’s, and an insect like demon walks through each one. They hold diabolical tools, and bars of abyssal steel in their many pincers.) You will have new legs soon; Mezzodemons work quickly, and.. Mercilessly.

THROZAK: “Thank you, General.”

GORGUTH: “The Talisman is in the hands of the able Darkdelvers, beyond my augurs. I do sense the presence of Caira’s servant, the Eladrin Necromancer. She is traveling to the lake known as Serenity. Perhaps the chalice lies there. Find the chalice, capture the mage, discover where Caira is hiding. Do not return until these are done Throzak. For the glory of Orcus.”

(The pane of abyssal ice vanishes, plunging the room in darkness again. Throzak ponders the troubling words of his commander. Has the Prince of Undeath erred? No, I must not think of such treasons. There is only the mission. Only the mission.

The Mezzodemons approach the rusted throne, chittering in delight.)


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