Fate Bound in Chains

Zetkin: Justiciar
Action, suspense, romance and JUSTICE!


I didn’t want to take up everything. So here is a link to the block that is Zetkin’s story~

King Dwarfshack's Paragon Path
Their bodies crumble like sandstone!

During the battle of the Kraken, I was busy protecting the Brotherhood of the Well from two menacing Barons. I heard the Kraken scream and before I could react we were all caught in a whirlpool. I was struggling to escape, but there was little I could do. Suddenly I awake on the shore of a forest. I noticed Hetaera laying there next to me. It was strange that nobody else was here, but after hours of searching I assumed that we must have been separated and we had no way of finding each other. I woke up Hetaera, and with no other options, we returned to Stonecrest. I was welcomed back with open arms, as people everywhere were eager to hear my story. Soon after I returned to my duties. I did not immediately return as king, but I was definitely treated as one. It was I who the nobles talked to and diplomatic duties were given too, not the current replacement king. Instead Hetaera and I decided to go to the noble quarters and further our training, in case further, more challenging situations arose than giants and orcs. Hetaera came to me explaining that there was much commotion with her training. We went to the Stonefire rager to hear his explanation. Hetaera could not receive the training since she was not a dwarf. By Moradin’s Beard! I can’t believe Hetaera couldn’t figure things out. Thankfully she’s not too bright. While she didn’t figure it out then, I was afraid that she might figure it out eventually. She needed to become a legal dwarf quickly, so I sacrificed my dignity for it. Hetaera was now a dwarf, and could proceed with the training. After this was taken care off I too sought to learn the ways of my elders, preferably that of the Dwarfshack himself. Much to my surprise, I was handed a greatspear. I thought it was a joke, but after working through with it, I found it to be a worthy asset to a dwarf. The sheer size of the weapon allowed me to pierce giants in the face, much to the surprise of the other dwarfs. While they had to climb up their bodies, I could simply stab forward. I was pleased by their jealousy. With my new training and the help of a few thousand dwarfs, we managed to push back the giants further than ever before. They were no longer even worthy of being called sandstone, yet we have no other words which to describe them. While I do welcome my return back to Stonecrest, I always wondered what happened to the rest of the brotherhood of the well. If they’re out there, I hope we can meet again.

Heskan's Paragon Path

Was having trouble typing this in first person, so im just gonna say that this is written by some historian many years later

Heskan barely survived the unforgiving ocean by clinging to a piece of the boat wreckage for days. Believing all his comrades have been lost in the ocean, he slowly lost hope and began to consider commiting suicide. At the last second before commiting the act, a vision from Logrim One-Eye telling him where to find his tomb gave him the strength to swim to shore. Upon returning to shore, Heskan set off on his journey to reclaim the sword. The area where the tomb was located was right in the middle of a border war between two kingdoms. Unable to enter the tomb until the war was over, he hired himself off as a mercenary and soon gained a reputation as a fierce and unyielding warrior as well as a competent battle commander. He was soon promoted to commander of a mercenary company of his own. After leading his forces through battle after battle, the war finally ended.

Heskan and his newly found mercenary company entered the tomb of Logrim One-Eye. Inside the ruins, he lost nearly half of his company to traps and what looked to be an infestation of Yuan-ti before finally reaching the final chamber of the tomb. Inside the chamber he came face to face with the foul being known as Xavier, He Of The Floating Throne. The battle that followed lasted hours. many Yuan-Ti and mercenaries fell but Xavier and Heskan fought on. Finally, after nearly a day of protracted battle, Xavier fell to Heskan’s sword.

Inside the tomb Heskan found the famed sword of Logrim One-Eye, as well as a few other magical items from the lost empire of Arkhosia. With the tomb plundered, Xavier dead and Logrim One-Eye’s sword recovered, He sets off to find more glory and battle with the remains of his company in tow.

Hroggek's Paragon Path

WARNING: WALL OF TEXT IMMINENT!!! For those of you who (understandably) do not have the patience to read my long-winded rambling story about what Hroggek did on his summer vaca- I mean, to get his paragon path, I have provided the following brief summary:

With no way to locate the other members of the Brotherhood of the Well and not wanting to start over completely, Hroggek returned to the dwarven city from which he was originally exiled to ask for clemency. The council appointed to decide his fate, which included the High Priest of Moradin, decided based on his account of events since he had left the city that they could not simply decide whether or not to pardon him. Instead they presented him with a vial of ichor, the blood of a god, Moradin. If he survived the experience of drinking it, then they would see it as Moradin’s will that he was worthy to rejoin their society. Upon drinking it, Hroggek entered a deep trance during which he communed with and learned from Moradin. It seemed to him to last only a couple weeks or so, but when he finally awoke, he found he had slumbered for close to two years, much longer than any other who had ever taken such a test before.

And now for the full account:

I clutched my simple robe around me with one hand and hoisted my heavy pack with the other. Where I was headed, it was not a good idea for someone in my situation to go armed and armored, and the extra weight of possessions I would normally wear on my back made my steps ungainly and threw off my balance. I shivered. It was not winter, but this high up the weather was cold regardless. I was so wrapped up in putting one foot in front of another on the trail that I almost didn’t notice when I arrived at my destination.
I rubbed at my smooth upper lip in what seemed to be becoming a nervous habit as I stared up at the huge, iron gates of the mountain city I had once called home. That stretch of bare skin was a reminder that the time for petty defiance was long past. I winced and brought my hand down as I brushed one of the many small cuts that lay scattered across my face. I never had quite gotten the hang of shaving. I think it just isn’t in my blood. At that thought I laughed. Now that I was here, on the brink, I was proving I’d think about any foolish thing to stall just a few more moments before I did what I had come here to do. Still, even reminded of my purpose, and even with all the harrowing experiences I’d had recently, taking those few steps forward and raising my hand to pound on the door was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.

A pair of guards flanked me as I walked through the stone halls of my home city. I had longed to return here, but now that I had, I could hardly enjoy it with thoughts of my destination filling my head. The disapproval on the stern faces of the statues we passed seemed no less real for the fact that I knew I was imagining it. Besides, the contempt on the faces of the guards was real enough. Finally, after winding our way through countless corridors, we came to a pair of massive stone doors heavily carved with symbols of Moradin and scenes of dwarven glory. I swallowed and tried not to fidget as the guards pushed in the doors, which swung easily despite their apparent bulk.
One guard went inside while the other stayed and eyed me with a mixture of wariness and disgust. I could hear muffled voices from inside the room and then someone spoke up in a deep voice and said “Send him in.” I walked in, passing the guard heading out on the way. The doors swung shut behind me and came together with a final boom. I tried not to imagine them closing on me and looked around the room. I had been here only once before, and it was not a pleasant memory.
The room was not big, and what space there was was dominated by a large stone table. Behind it sat several aged dwarves. Off to the side there was a clerk recording the proceedings and attendants stood in corners, waiting for someone to need something.
“So, Hroggek,” said the dwarf in the center of the table in the deep voice that had called me into the room, “you have come to ask us for clemency in your sentence. Not something often done, and even more rarely granted. On what grounds do you attempt this?” He was the oldest of the dwarves assembled here, his long hair and beard were pure white, but his voice was still strong despite his age. I knew him on sight. He was the high priest of Moradin.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I had come so far and was so terribly nervous of the outcome of my journey. I struggled to work some moisture into a mouth that seemed to have gone as dry as dust. “Well, out with it, boy!” snapped an irascible old dwarf off to my right, “We haven’t got all day!” At first I was indignant at the way he spoke to me, but then I remembered that he was probably five or even ten times my age. To him, I truly was little more than a boy. With that humbling thought in mind, I opened my mouth and told them my story, everything important that I had done and that had happened to me since I was banished.
“I see,” said the high priest, looking thoughtful after I had finished, “and on these grounds you demand we commute your sentence?”
“No,” I replied. “I only ask that you consider what I have told you and hope that it can help me in some way.”
“Hmm…” The high priest’s brow furrowed as he stared at me intently. “We must confer. We will return with our verdict.” At that, the dwarves at the table stood up and began to leave the room through a door at the back with the scribe and attendants following them.

What seemed an eternity later, I still stood in the council chamber. I knew it hadn’t been long, but it seemed like they’d been gone for hours. Just as I couldn’t stand the waiting any longer, the door at the other end of the room opened and the council began to file in. Through the door I saw the high priest speaking to one of the attendants in a quiet voice. He passed him what looked like a key and then the attendant set off down the hallway at a brisk walk.
Thoughts of the attendant’s errand were soon driven from my head as the council took their seats at the table. For a time they all simply looked at me and I felt sweat break out on my forehead. Finally, the high priest said “After much discussion, we have reached a decision. This council has decided that it cannot decide.” Reading the question on my face, the high priest raised a hand to forestall me before I could ask it. Then he continued. “We cannot decide, but there is one who can. For crimes such as yours, deeds such as yours, a life such as yours, there can be only one fitting judge.”
Just then, the attendant the high priest had sent away entered the council chamber carrying an ornately carved and decorated box, set with precious metals and gems. He hurried over to the high priest and handed him the box. I was surprised and annoyed he would interrupt the giving of the verdict even for the completion of an errand the high priest had set him, but before I could ask what was in the box that was so important, the high priest opened it and pulled out a vial so miniscule it was almost concealed by his fingers. As he held it up reverently, I could see that it contained a tiny amount of a silvery liquid that seemed to glow with its own inner fire, though it cast no light on anything around it.
“This,” the high priest explained, “is a single drop of Moradin’s ichor. His blood. Consuming an elixir of such potency is more than the mortal frame was meant to bear. Drink it, and you shall be tested by our god himself. If he judges you worthy, you will survive and be blessed as only a few in this world ever are.”
For a long moment, I was simply stunned and stared openmouthed. I had come hoping merely to be accepted once more by my people and now I was being given an opportunity the likes of which I had never even dreamed of! Recovering myself, I bowed as low as I could manage and said “I am deeply honored that you would give me this opportunity.”
“Thank us afterward,” replied the high priest, “if you still can.” His earlier words echoed in my head. If he judges you worthy, you will survive… Still, I hesitated only for a second before approaching the table and holding out my hand. The high priest placed the vial in it and I held it up before my eyes, staring at the tiny object that was to decide the course of the entire rest of my life. As carefully as I could manage, I removed the stopper and, after one more brief moment of eyeing the vial I brought it to my lips and tilted the drop into my mouth.
That one drop contained more flavor than all the food I have ever eaten in my life combined. It tasted like everything and nothing all at once, tasted like things for which words do not exist in mortal tongues. From the moment it entered my mouth, I was no longer aware of anything else around me or even of myself except a dim knowledge that I must exist in order to experience such unimaginably vast sensation. The drop burned its way down my throat and into my stomach, with me still tasting it all the while despite the fact that it had left my mouth entirely. It seemed as though my sense of taste was no longer confined to my tongue, as though it could not be and still experience that flavor. I tasted that drop with my whole body, with my soul, with the very fabric of my being.
After what seemed to be simultaneously an eternity and the barest fraction of a second, the sensation of taste simply disappeared in an instant. For a moment it seemed as though I could not be what I was before drinking the ichor, that after such an experience I must simply collapse from the lack of it. I did not, however. I realized I had eyes and that they were closed. I opened them and saw a high vaulted ceiling of stone. Standing up and looking around, I could see that I was in a vast hall with columns lining it. Recognition dawned on me and I smiled, setting out for a doorway in the distance glowing with reddish orange light and emanating heat from the forge within.

Goodbye, Mertoid.
you will be missed

It is quiet, and I am numb. Why…just why? Mertoid is dead…dead. And we can’t bring him back. On top of this, I am bleeding. All over. And it hurts so bad. The rest of the party is here but no one speaks. As we sit with the king he too keeps silent in memory of the gnome. Tears escape my eyes, but not because of the pain. Because of the loss of my friend.

The tomb had been a perilous journey. There had been spectres, rats, a lot of rats, ice covered floors, lockpicking with feet, a gelatinous cube, and many other odd terrors. We still had not found the book and grew weary. There couldn’t be much more to the tomb…it was just too much. Unfortunately I was wrong.

There was one more room before the end. A room filled with foul necrotic work. There were jumps and volley’s that needed to be made to get to the other side of the room. Unfortunately before we could get to the end, vulturous specters entered and attacked. We fended them off for a while but we couldn’t kill them. They were hungry and they were going to get their meal. This is when our dear friend, Mertoid, fell into a crevice in the room. The vultures took the opportunity and we knew there was nothing we could do. We would not see him again. We escaped the room before the bastards could think twice about coming after us again, but we felt the weight of the situation immediately. Our bard was gone. Mertoid the Talespinner orwhateverhisrealnameis was dead.

The room we were now in consisted of only a long hallway surrounded by darkness. At the end of the hallway we spotted a large stone coffin. It was the tomb. After walking down the extension of tile and stone, we were finally at the location of the book. The mighty Hetaera lifted the top of the tomb to reveal…liquid. Dark, blackish-red liquid. The barbarian touched the liquid but nothing happened. The party was confused and silent. I stepped forward and looked into the small abyss of liquid. A sudden pounding entered my mind. I dropped my sword and shield and grabbed my head. A voiced penetrated my thoughts, “We could use this…” I hadn’t heard him since the shadowfell portal incident. It was the voice that had haunted me ever since I was able to hold a sword and shield. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN? USE IT FOR WHAT?!” There was no response but the torturous aching ended. My party stared awkwardly at me and Hetaera made sure I was okay. I looked into the liquid and my hand started towards it. Was I really going to listen to him?

I did it. I don’t know why, but I did it. Before I knew what was going on the liquid shot up into the air and some kind of magical force stripped me of my armor. The liquid surrounded me like some kind of demonic dance and I saw barbs start to form. Once the barbs had all sharpened to a point, they slammed into my flesh. I screamed and my knees buckled with the immense pain of a thousand spikes breaking into me. I braced myself until the pain was over. My skin, still sore, was now covered in a dark golden armor, and I saw my blood start to flow through beneath the surface. “Uh..”, was all that managed to escape my mouth when the Dwarfshak noticed runes on the side of the sarcophagus detailing the real location of the book. The Malfian Jungle.

With this information we were told to head into the jungle, after we look around the city and have a ceremony for Mertoid of course. I can’t take off this armor, or whatever it is. But it’s time I end this log.

Goodbye Mertoid, we will miss you.

~Zetkins Severine Trix

Hi-Ho Chimera!
Our New Home

That freaking bard woke me up by poking me with a stick! I was very cranky this afternoon Anyways, after Mertoid so gently awoke me upon the ending of our boat ride, I saw that we had arrived in…Wyrmwater. The city, if you could call it that, was just three days distance away from Chimera on horse! I proudly mounted my new, noble steed, Goodmonson, ready to get the trip over with. It was when I heard the gruff’s of my fellow party members when I realized, I was the only one who had a horse. So, it would be a six day trip after all. I patted my sullen horse on the head and told him, “Don’t worry. You’ll have your time to shine, some day.”

On the sixth day of travel we saw it. We all except for The Dwarfshak who had most likely seen such things before stood in awe of the magnificence that was the city of Chimera. I had never seen a place anything like this. A city carved from the stone architecture. A joint effort between man and nature! I was giddy. I propped myself on top on Goodmonson and rode towards the city gates.

We only had a bit of time to admire the inside of the sculpturous city before we headed up the MASSIVE staircase to see the King. Excuse my excitements. But Avandra, was it awesome. We finally arrived in the room we were to meet with King Sigundis in. This would be the second king I would meet. He walked in and we all stood. I bowed. I didn’t know if it was right but I did it anyways. He was a very wise looking, middle-aged man with medium length brown hair and a matching colored beard. I also noticed a mangled looking blade at his side that looked to be made of teeth along with a beautiful, royal blue cape. I felt drawn to the cape but greeted the king nonetheless. As he spoke to us he seemed to be a kind of father figure. I could tell he cared for his kingdom and his people most of all. We told him the tale of the mindflayer and the book that we sought. He agreed that this was an important matter to attend to and allowed us into the Tomb of Denad. We were escorted there by three huge, armored men adorned with long, black capes made of raven’s feathers. They were the Watchers. The paladins of The Raven Queen. And they were awesome.

Upon entering the tomb we know that 1) No one had been in here for a long time, and 2) No one was allowed in here. Now, this is where I must end my log. I don’t know what lies ahead of us. Wish us luck, Avandra.

Love, Zetkin Severine Trix

A Mindflayer, a Tournament and off we go!
this oughta be fun

Oh Avandra… This has been quite a few interesting days..

But hey! Look! I’m ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!!! Isn’t that great? The mindflayer didn’t eat my brain! In fact we did pretty well. Of course we didn’t kill the damned illithid. Coward ran away before we could even get to him. Anyways, with our party reformed and with the help of our new friend William Ranesford we took out two skeletons, two carrion crawlers (ewwwwy!) and even that dumb brother Josef! He was a thrall! Isn’t that funny?! Well actually we didn’t kill him. He killed himself. Because he was dumb.

Oh yeah. That happiness of the victory didn’t last long. I forgot about the small problem that happened immediately afterwords. We went back up to Abalard’s room to find him dead. Dead and with holes in his head. The mindflayer had searched his mind to find the book and killed him. So now the mindflayer knows where the book is. So that’s not so great. Especially when he could apparently possibly destroy the world with that book in his possession. I did feel pretty bad for dear William though. His father and his brother were dead now. Unfortunately with the impending peril we did not have much time to console him. He understood and we bid him and the rest of the farmland adieu after a bit. Ugh. Goodbye handsome noble boy.

And after a few days of travel we once again we arrived in Pram’s Reach! What a relief this place was after the deserted and horrid farmland. We noticed that there was much bustle and hustle about the town. Races of all kinds and professions were everywhere. Oh. Right. The Festival of the gods was going on in the next few days! That’s of course why we were still carrying that trunk with one of the prizes in it. We headed to see Norryn as soon as we could. He of course was expecting us so we saw him immediately. He seemed to have recovered fully from the attempted assassination attempt (no doubt due to my fantastic healing…or at least I like to think so). We explained to him all the events that proceeded in the farmland. He was of course a bit taken aback but as a professional diplomat he kept his cool. He told us that if what we said was true than our next step would be to head to Chimera and find the book before the mindflayer. He also offered us to stay a few more nights until the end of the festival. We of course couldn’t deny an offer like that. It was definitely time for some fun.

During the next few nights we took part in a few contests mainly with another adventuring group, The Ebony Guard. They had a human artificer name Alek, a dragonborn wizard named Daar, a dwarf shaman named Ana, a gnoll ranger named Ghyrryn, a stupid tall hot goliath warden named Nalla (scary), a warforged avenger named Jargon Unit 52 and last but not least, a handsome tiefling warlord named Ispiration. Oooooo. (coughcough) Anyway.

The 1st event was: THE BEERFEST!!! (insert crackling manly thunder)

And to our surprise. Our lean but apparently endurable Narsus won. Somehow. I mean really, there were dwarves involved. How does this work? Oh the Dwarfshak has just informed me that the beer that was offered was human beer and not up to par with the beer that the dwarves were used to.

The 2nd event was: The Poetry Contest!

And the winner was the Dwarfshak! His simple and beardly words swooned the crowds! Hooray!

The 3rd event was: The Eating Contest!

Hetaera won this one. This was no surprise but we were very proud of her…eating all that food. It looked hard!

The 4th event was: The Great Debate!

And of course our charismatic bard, Mertoid won this…although I wanted it…

The 5th event was: The Obstacle Course!

Agile and quick Shrakk won this one! And when they revealed our prize I was awestruck. It was the most beautiful and valiant horse I had ever seen. It was colored like a cow. Or not according to Shrakk. Anyways, it was a magnificent black and white horse that would now be my mount. I know we will be good friends for a long time! Me and Goodmonson!!

The last event was: The Tournament of Kord.

Quite honestly I don’t remember what happened. I know our party won but I don’t know how or why. It’s so strange like I just blanked out. But no one remembers.

Before we left for Chimera, Norryn had a bit of a creepy moment. All I know is that he asked Hetaera to go with him and remove her armor and then she came back with a tattoo…yeha. So we said our goodbyes to Norryn and the Ebony Guard and we headed off an a boat towards Chimera. Which is where we are now. On a boat while about half of us are hungover, Goodmonson included. I think I’m going to attempt to rest up now. Chimera is our first big city and I want to be ready! Good day!

-Zzzetkin Severine Trix

The Ranesford Family Curse
The Dwarfshak, Hetaera and I encounter a murder mystery in the Farmland.

I really, REALLY need to learn to shut my mouth. I mean seriously. Ugh. Let me explain.

We arrived in the farmland about ten days after we left Soranton. The rest of the party had been there about two days and were investigating. There was a small village in the center of the farmland that we headed towards first. Upon entering the only inn in town we immediately began to inquire about the recent murders. We learned that:

a)the village and nearby farmland is controlled by an ex-Knights Sanguine member named Abalard Ranesford. (The name Knight Sanguine rang a bell but I didn’t know much about them.)

b)A great number of the people in the village believe that the murders are caused by a wild animal. (As the murders are usually quite gruesome.)


c) There have been 26 murders in the past. (Judging by the size of this village that is quite a lot.)

Of course just as we had gotten the simplest bits of information a local burst into the room and declared that a new murder had just occurred. Perfect. Maybe we could catch the killer? Yeah right. Like we were that lucky. We ran outside and while not looking where I was going I ran into a man on his horse. He was tall, blonde and quite handsome. I mean. He seemed like a very noble type of fellow as he was finely dressed. Okay cut me some slack I spent most of my life around dragonborn who are twice the size of me. The rare sighting of a handsome creature around my own size is a relief. Anyways, it turned out that he was the son of Abalard Ranesford. William was his name and he was off to investigate the murder as well.

So, we took off with him through the farmland. On the way we noticed that the trees had a natural brittleness and looked malnourished. Didn’t seem like a very flourishing farmland…And then we encountered:

Murder #27

Victim: Robert… um yeah that’s it.

mutilated, missing heart and lung, drained of blood, 3 pronged wound in neck, appears the murderer tried to cover up who they killed, completely erased their tracks, victim was attacked from behind.

So from the notes of the grotesque crime scene we determined that the murder was done by something more intelligent than a wolf or any other animal. Hetaera also mentioned that the scene looked somewhat like a kind of sacrifice or possibly a necromantic ritual. Of course we were all a bit astonished by Heteara’s sudden knowledge of religion. Even William looked a bit confunded and he had only just met her. After snapping out of our short state of shock William invited us to his home so we could meet his father Abalard.

When we entered the lavish-in-comparison-to-the-rest-of-the-town home of the Ranesford’s we met a stout man wearing simple but fine clothing. He was introduced as Ivar Cole the steward for the family. He took us up to Abalard’s room where we discovered a sickly looking old man in bed. He was not very happy to meet us and insisted that the farmland needed no help. He was crazy. Absolutely insane. Well at least that is what I figured. He would answer no questions we had about the murders so The Dwarfshak asked about the condition of the trees in the forest. He blamed the brittleness on magic left over from elves that once lived in the area. Figuring we would get nothing else out of him, we left. William came with us and confessed that he disagreed with his father. He knew something was wrong and he was very grateful that someone had finally come along to help him out. He explained to us that there had been rumors of a family curse that he had picked up on in his lifetime. He didn’t exactly know what it meant except that for as long as the Ranesford family had controlled the land (and it was a long time) many bad things had happened. To learn more about this we headed towards the library in the Ranesford home.

On the way we ran into another young man who resembled William except he was much larger and well, dumber looking. He shoved passed us without acknowledgment. William told us that was his brother Josef, the rowdier of the two. We didn’t find much in the library at all. So we gave up and decided to spend the next day interviewing people. After about 40 interviews we were not impressed. People blamed ghosts and specters and werecows. These were pretty much disregarded. Except the werecow that sounded interesting. What we did learn was that the general consensus were not favorable towards Abalard. And unfortunately that was the most interesting piece of information we got. We were pretty down after getting nowhere when William appeared with a map. He had pin-pointed all the locations of the murders. We thought maybe there could be a pattern? No. Not really. It just looked like a bunch of random dots. GAHHH! Still we couldn’t get anywhere helpful.

But of course as we were sitting there wallowing in our lack of progress another man barged into the inn and proclaimed another killing. We rushed out of the keep and towards…

Murder #28

Victime: Unknown

muddy bootprints found, face not mutilated, throat punctured, rope marks around neck.

Okay weird. It was nothing like the last murder. The tracks weren’t cleaned up. It was not specifically sacrificial. It was the polar opposite of the last victim. Hetaera noted however that even if it wasn’t a sacrifice it could be ritual work. We all stood in silence looking at her. Our barbarian was indeed proving to be quite the asset to figuring out this murder. And it surprised us.

Just a few minutes after arriving back at the keep we were notified that a whole family had been murdered in a small house in the forest. Great. So we once again suited up and headed towards the house.

Upon approaching the house the smell of rotting meat pierced our noses. We all cringed a bit when William noticed something. His brother was riding away from the house and into the rest of the forest. We noted this but soon dismissed it to investigate the home. On the first floor we found the bodies piled up. Six of em. The Dwarfshak told us that he believed them to be poisoned. William and I headed upstairs to look around a bit more. I still thought he was cute. But the horrible odor and ominous threat of another murder happening at any moment didn’t leave much room for those kind of thoughts. We had barely made it up the stairs when I heard a commotion downstairs and the smell of burning. William in a panic jumped out of the closest window. I ran downstairs to see what was happening. Undead. Frakking undead. EVERYWHERE. A few curse words may have escaped me at that point. We tried to fend them off but the house was on fire and there were to many to kill and escape on time. So we tried the William maneuver and jumped out the window on the second floor. The fire killed the rest of the gross zombies.

William believed that it was a trap. Maybe whoever or whatever was causing these murders thought that we were getting close and they didn’t want us to interfere anymore. So they gave us a distraction- Wait. A distraction? F*SK. That’s right. While we were gone two more murders had taken place. One murder was like the first we investigated and the other was like the second murder we investigated.

After some discussion we came to the possibility of there maybe being…two murderers. We took another look at the map and drew some lines. After a few hours of connect the dots we came up with a pentogram and a hexogram pattern. Hetaera then deduced that possibly the two murderers were working against each other either casting an offensive or a defensive ritual. That was brilliant…We all cheered for our genius barbarian before finally realizing that two more murders were bound to happen tonight. We pin pointed where we thought it would be and booked it to that location.

We soon heard a woman screaming and the sound of boots trudging through the dirt. That is when we came upon… Ivar Cole? William was astonished. We had caught one of the murderers in the act. The steward of the Ranesfords. We asked him why he would do such things but he was in hysterics and kept asking us “How could you do this? Do you have any idea what you have done?” We decided to take him back to Abalard but of course it couldn’t be that simple. Wolves appeard with blue flames for eyes and their skin decayed. The Dwarfshak and Hetaera took Ivar on their horse while I jumped on the back of William’s horse. He told the others to follow him. He knew what he was doing. We went as fast as we could away from the wolves as they chased us but there was a river up ahead. Aha! Undead cannot cross running water. That was good thinking on William’s part. I knew I liked him for a reason. We of course outran the wolves at that point and reached the Ranesford home soon after.

We burst into Abalard’s room, Ivar in our custody and he sat up straight in bed. He began yelling at us and started asking the same questions that Ivar was asking just a few minutes before. William finally stood up to his father and demanded to know what was going on. So as it turned out, Abalard was behind half of the murders. Ivar carried them out but Abalard told him what to do. Many many years ago an ancestor of Abalard had stolen a book of spells from…an illithid named K’ylthryuluk. Yep. A mind flayer. Just like I had guessed leaving Soranton. (Hence my frustration in the beginning of this log.) Well it seems after all these years that mind flayer hasn’t let go of that grudge and wants his book back. Problem is, if this specific mind flayer gets a hold of this book, terrible, terrible things will happen. The murders caused by Abalard and Ivar were to ward off the effects of the other murderer. The illithid. And of course we just broke the ward. So the mindflayer has a clear pathway to the library where the book lies. Oh but wait. What the mindflayer wants isn’t even here! Yeah! Abalard told us that the book has been hidden in the city Chimera. So the mindflayer will be here in a few hours to get something that’s not here…Wow.

So here we are now. Preparing for battle with A FRAKKING ILLITHID. Ugh. I can’t believe this is happening. I of course couldn’t spend this night maybe going on a peaceful date with the intelligent noble boy right? Well. Now that I think about it. This will be quite the experience. Fighting a mindflayer! It’s exciting! And it will be even better if we live through it!

Wish us luck,

Zetkin Severine Trix

May Avandra meet you, and Freedom guide your Path.

With the soulless body of our Eladrin friend Narsus I suggested that we take a trip to my hometown where I knew someone who could possibly resurrect him. So Hetaera, The Dwarfshak and I left with Narsus in tow towards home while Shrakk (who I could have sworn was a wilden but looks very much like gthzerai now), Mertoid and Vulcier went to go investigate the farmland.

I could see the towering guards as we approached. And well, they towered because they were dragonborn. And as we approached my colleagues soon noticed that there was nothing but dragonborn there.

The guards questioned us as we grew near. I smiled and said in draconic, “I’m the temple leader’s daughter.”, and showed him a piece of shell on a small silver chain around my neck. “Ah. Yes. The Half-elf. Welcome back.” I was beaming as my friends and I entered the town where I had grown up and trained to become the paladin I am today. And with dragonborn of all kinds bustling around I heard Hetaera ask, “And this is your hometown Zetkin?”

We took Narsus’ body to the temple of Avandra that was an obvious centerpiece in my town. As we walked in there were a few people scattered about in different pews worshipping the goddess of freedom and change. An old dragonborn adorned with silk robes tending to the alter in front. I walked briskly towards him and wispered, “Father, I’m here.” He stood tall and his sweet yet reptilian face smiled. “Limhala.” He replied.

After spending the remainder of the night being teased about my dragonborn name, eating a delicious draconic meal and discussing how to get Narsus back, we all headed to bed. The next morning we decided to roam about town and visit some of my old friends while my father worked on getting Narsus. We first went to the blacksmith, where a married dragonborn couple once made the sword and shield I wield. While there the male blacksmith gave us a box in which he said would be the prize for the Tournament of Kord. I assumed this was part of the festival going on in Pram’s Reach in a few weeks. He asked us to bring the prize to Pram’s Reach for him as he had hurt his leg and needed a bit of help. As an old friend I couldn’t help but agree.

Our next stop was to the training grounds where I could see my old trainer. There was also someone else I thought may be there. So as we headed into the arena I saw him. Not my trainer, but my childhood friend Kriv! He was barking out orders to the new recruits. I know my presence definitely surprised him but I think he was all in all happy to see me. He even challenged my friends and I to a duel with his friends. We of course agreed.

Upon returning to my father’s temple we saw Narsus alive and well! He still looked…a bit under the weather. I thanked my father for everything. It would probably be our last free resurrection. Once Narsus had rested for a bit we headed off toward the arena for our duel with Kriv and his recruits.

Round 1: Narsus vs. 1st recruit, Narsus wins Round 2: Hetaera vs. 2nd recruit, Hetaera wins Round 3: The Dwarfshak vs. 3rd recruit, The Dwarfshak wins Round 4: Me vs. Kriv, Kriv wins.

Of course I was the only one who lost. It’s not like it’s shameful to lose in your hometown against your childhood friend or anything. Especially after adventuring around for six months and slaying a black dragon right? Yeah no big deal. No really, I kinda sorta was really dissapointed in myself. Like alot. And I was pretty down for the rest of the night. But after a talk with my father and with our party revitalized I knew we were ready to head to the farmland and take care of whatever was causing the murders. May it be a beholder! Or a…or a vampire! Or even an illithid! No acctually that would suck. Ugh. May Avandra help us.

Until next time, Zetkin Severine Trix ~

The Owlbear
Zetkin displays her creative (and childish) side.

Today was quite long. And quite sorrowful as well. But tonight as I sit by the fire, I remember an old tale my father read to me every night before I slept. And I can’t help but sort of twist the story into the events that proceeded today…

Twas sunup and the tavern beckoned

The Grey Thicket pleaded for aid

All mimsy was the old man’s stature

Death where forest once played

“Beware the Owlbear my friends!

The beak that bites, the claws that scratch!

Beware the piercing scream, and shun

the predators of the patch!”

We took our swords and shields in hand

A clearing in the woods we sought.

But then we see a dwarf in a tree

And apply the moss we brought.

And as in silent thought we stood.

The owlbear with screams of flame

Came charging in while kengku’s,

Lead a cockatrice with a chain.

One, two! One, two! And through and through!

The owlbear was cut in half!

But with it’s head, Narsus is dead.

May Avandra help him back.

“And hast thou slain the owlbear?

Please accept our beamish coins!

Grey Thicket is saved! Callooh! Callay!

The old man sang in joy.

Twas sunup and the tavern beckoned

The Grey Thicket pleaded for aid

All mimsy was the old man’s stature

Death where forest once played.

Okay, I know I should probably leave the poetry to Mertoid but I couldn’t resist. I also probably shouldn’t be joking in the wake of our friend Narsus’ death. I think I know someone who can bring him back though. Someone nearby. Maybe he can once again read this tale to me before I sleep.

Until next time… Love, Zetkin Severine Trix~


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