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Journal of Talius Volar Day 1 I finally made my way to the Vhalurian capital. The place looks as downtrodden and dull as it did when I was a child, nevertheless this is where I need to be right now. I met a woman named Indira Woods in the forest today, she seems quite shy but she can be deadly with that bow of hers. We spent the remainder of the day gathering furs and hides, I need the copper quite badly. Day 5 Miss Woods and I rarely travel without the other now it seems, which is fine by me, as she is the better fighter of us, and she’s quiet most of the time. We made our way into the gnoll infested mountain just outside the city, using myself as bait we quickly disposed of every gnoll we could find. Day 9 For once I find myself travelling without miss Woods, instead I accompany a party to face off some “Insularii”. By stroke of luck, this led me to my first clue as I was attacked by a man carrying a staff, not a thing I cant handle in itself, but he was able to summon fire from thin air, as well as call down lightning and poison my blood. When I woke up I found that my companions had killed him, but I took the staff from him, could be a potential aid in understanding this “magic”. I made a drawing of it as well as some scribbles shown here in figure 1:  I wonder if the staff itself is capable of storing and releasing arcane energies on its own without the previous owner, I’ll do some more research once I get back home. Day 10 No luck in understanding the works of the staff at all, it would appear it doesn’t work in anyone’s hands, shame, but I will continue trying to study it. Afternoon, and again I could have sworn the gem of the staff glowed as it laid on my table, but I have not been able to reproduce this. Day 14 I the Insularii are all dead, seems a joint force of Vhalurians and Tyreans attacked their home island base. Curse them! With that all my hopes of finding someone living to interrogate were scattered to the winds. I will try to sneak my way into the old cave that they used to occupy and see if I can find any clues there. Day 16 Made my way back to where I got the staff, seems that a tougher, darker breed of goblinoids made it their home, but no matter, they are quite stupid and easy enough to sneak past. Made my way to the old castle at the back and found an interesting journal in the library there, one beloning to a certain “Etrius” the overseer of the insularii forces stationed here. He mentions that: “The council has asked me to look further into the ruins of Tserjicanth” He goes on to talk about “Necromancy” and to warns of the dangers in practicing it. It seems that he tried to raise some dead minotaurs, but in doing so created dangerous monsters with an affinity for necromantic magic. He made a discovery which I found interesting though, it would appear that the Common language is derived from the old Tserjicanth language, due to their empire stretching most of the world back then. Bad news indeed, for that means any clues about magic could be scattered all over the world. Day 23 When infiltrating Tyris today, I spotted a man that the others called “Sven”, I saw in his hands that he had a staff similar to mine but much more ornate, and, the gem on his staff seemed a lot more lifelike. I dared not approach but I will look into the matter as soon as I get the opportunity. Day 26 Miss Woods and I bumped into two men that called themselves “Edward” and “Roarke”. They asked us if we could help them to kill a “Gorgon”, and after a brief but deadly battle, I had to rethink my theories some. The Gorgon it seems, possesses the same skills as the Insularii mage, but does so without the use of a staff at all, perhaps magic is more about the words and the hand gestures than items of power. Day 31 I was wrong again, having fought two kinds of “Beholders”, one floating eye and one big eyestalk, it appears that magic can be conjured up with a mere thought, and not a series of complex gestures or such, I made a sketch with some comments shown here on figure 2:  Day 39 Trying to advance my studies by learning as much as possible about the gods that hold magic as their domain. Khaliana seems to have surprisingly little information about her works, but then again she IS the goddess of mystery.. Hopefully the Tyreans will have more information on the subject, and I will attempt to gain their trust. Day 43 I finally made some advancements! While exploring a nearby area I found a tower with some mysterious runes outside. I went in and immediatley a strange feeling came over me, approaching cautiously, I made my way to the top of the tower. Once there however, I felt that I wasnt alone, and to my surprise a spirit materialized itself. At first I was fearing for my life, but it soon became apperant that the spirit was not hostile. After dismissing my insularii staff of any use, it introduced itself as "Archmage Varkos Balthoras". It would appear that Varkos is trapped under the weight of his own guilt in this world, guilt he obtained by murdering his teacher and serving King Darius Tremont. My caution thrown away I asked the spirit if he knew the secrets of the arcane, apperantly it did for it summoned my staff from my very own hands. Alas he was not interested in more than idle chit-chat. I do feel for his plight, but at the same time I must not let this opportunity pass, as the spirit from a dead archmage would be the second best thing to learn magic from. Made a scribble of the runes outside the tower: 
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Rank: Squire
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Day 45
After a huge leap forward, things have gotten dead silent in the past few days. I've not been able to contact Varkos Balthoras again. I shouldnt be surprised, after all he said I had nothing to offer and he might already be done with me. Nevertheless... must not loose my focus.
I was looking at my map over the areas that I havent explored yet, my exploring brought me to what seemed to be an abandoned house, though I cannot imagine why anyone would abandon it, as it has numerous interesting objects I have never seen before, including a green crystal and several ornate staves and other weapons. I couldnt locate anything of interest or use to me though, perhaps I will return at a later date.
Evening. Odd, I was exploring yet another area unknown to me and to my delight I found a tower similar to Balthoras'. It even had the same runes outside the front door, although in different colours and order.
The Arrow rune was to the left this time too, but it was glowing in purple.
The Monster rune was in the middle this time, glowing a green/teal hue.
And finally the Axe rune was to the right, and it glows dark blue.
The runes being the same kind must mean SOMETHING. I went inside and it was with mixed feelings that I found the tower to be devoid of any spirits. Well then, I will most likely spend the night and ponder some about those runes, there has to be something about them for them to reappear so.
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Day 45 Late late night.
I dont know if its sleep trying to take over me or if I just had an odd idea out of thin air.
It concerns the runes, I was pondering their meaning and came to the conclusion that they are not seals to keep things in, and they are not wards to keep people out, well, not effective ones. Then I started to think: "Why are they the same, but in different order and colour? And why is the Arrow rune to the left this time as well?"
Well, I started to think, Balthoras was an archmage, meaning there was most likely a few other wizards in the land. So what if the runes were there to display the rank and name of the occupant? Since the arrow rune was first in both cases, I think it might signify "Rank" and the colour of the rune would mean which particular rank. As I cannot see a higher rank than archmage, I would assume that darker colour means better/higher.
If that is the case then it would mean that the tower Im in now once belonged to a lesser ranked mage, but I imagine, still a very formidable one.
The other two runes are more difficult to even make half-arsed guesses at, since they changed places, could be signifying what sort of arcane energies they weaved, achievements, names or anything... Bah, I must be tired.
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Rank: Squire
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Day 48
The Tyrean people are in strong contrast to the cold climate here, warm and lively.
I arrived today at the Tiddjägern hall, knocked at the door and when nobody answered I tried the door, which wasnt locked. As I stood in the doorway I saw this mountain of a man approaching me with a curios look on his face. He started to talk in Tyrean to me and the only real word I thought I heard was "horse". Anyway, he soon switched over to Common and introduced himself as Bynulf Skuldson.
After a polite conversation, where he had laughed and smacked my arm so hard that I still have a handprint on it, he told me that I should seek out Prophets if I wanted to learn of runes, as most Tyreans dont read or find the need to keep records. Oddly enough as I left he yelled after me to "stay away from his horse", must have taken me for a horse thief or something.. ah well.
Following the directions to the temple that Brynulf had given me, I arrived late at night to see the prophet Lofar Halfdanson. Though the Tyrean was distrustful of me at first, a very generous donation to the temple, and attending a Tyrean "sermon" to the god they call "Ohlm" the priest reluctantly told me that while the runes looked similar to some Tyrean ones, they were not used in their alphabet.
Seems I am back where Varkos left me then, hopefully I will have some sort of breakthrough soon.. But I honestly do not know where to go from here, perhaps stay a while or go back to my own city, if only to plan my next exploration, as sitting idle makes my skin crawl.
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Rank: Squire
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Day 54
During the festival in Khemet I found myself a bit bored between the festival events, despite winning two thousand copper and a gold necklace. So I took the time to walk around the surrounding area, and to my amazement I found a tower very close to the city with runes outside it.
The runes outside this mage tower, as I 've come to look at them, were only two and it was a new one resembling an "N" and the Monster Rune.. peculiar, it would seem that there is a tower for every human race out there.. I'll look into it and make my way to the jungles of Azhuran later on, there has to be a tower there as well if Im right..
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Rank: Squire
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Day 56
Cursed jungle! How anyone could possibly want to live here baffles my mind. Nevertheless I made some progress as I found the tower I was looking for in the end. It looked more like a step pyramid of the naitives than a tower like the others, but like the rest it also had runes outside its gate.
After having a chance to look at the runes in peace and without being attacked by snakes and blue apes, I must say that all my previous theories are down the drain. This tower has three runes, like the first two I found, but it also shows one I havent seen before, looks like a curved "F". Above that one was the "N" rune from Khemet, and below it was the "Monster" rune.
I will spend the day at this tower as usual and see if I cant find any clues of some sort. These runes are beginning to frustrate me to no end..
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Shit!
The Vhalurian man had narrowly dodged an arrow, the projectile chipped off pieces of bark where his head had just been. Wiping the mud from his face, and shaking the bark from his hair, he crawled back behind the tree. He heard several loud shouts in a language he did not understand. He had no intention of asking what that meant in common, and quickly rose to his feet, drawing his daggers and taking a deep breath.
Here goes..
And the man lept from tree to tree, leaving a trail of imbedded arrows behind him. Zig-zagging forward he leapt a small viper and darted behind another tree, and out the same side. His assailant watching the other side of the tree had only registered a blue cloth heading his way in a furious pace, and his reaction was too slow, his left lung impaled by sharp Tyrean made iron. A soundless scream formed the mouth of the Azhuran, but the next second the other dagger pierced his brain all the way from the jaw.
Dont leave the safty of your companions, see how that ends?
The hair on the arm on the man in blue suddenly rose like he was cold, and he heard the faintest whisper over the jungle sounds. Eyes widening, he turned around and used the twitching Azhurian as a living-dead shield. The Azhurian burst into flames, too living to stop moving, too dead to scream. The Vhalurian yanked out his daggers and discarded the burning corpse of the guard.
Staring down at him was an old haggard woman, with white long hair and fingernails like daggers. Her raspy voice sounding like a drowning man as she cackled madly, the tention and electrical feeling of the arcane around her.
Witch! I know that sensation anywhere.
He screamed and ran as fast as he could towards her, mud splattering as his feet landed. The Witch threw a small arrow of flame at him, hitting his arm. Grunting, his adrenaline allowed him to ignore the most of the pain for the moment. As the witch raised her hand to throw a larger ball of flame at him, he thrust his dagger into the palm of her hand, her screams of pain echoing in the jungle, making it sound like the screams of several people at once.
She clawed with her healthy hand at his chest, trying to scratch at his face and eyes, screaming profanity and recepies involving his intestines. The Vhalurian headbutted her and she reeled back for but a moment, her dizzyness rewarded with cold iron sliding into her ancient throat.
Later, the same man went back to the tower he found earlier that day, sank down and tended to his arm, opened his journal and dipped a quill in ink.
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Rank: Squire
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Day 57
Seems there was more to the jungle than I had initially thought. I made my way to the Azhuran city, namely their library, disguised as a mildly retarded guard that called himself Usan. Once there I rummaged through the shelves in search of anything written in common, which seemed like a futile plan. My noise however made their librarian start questioning me what I was doing.
Luckily I managed to pull off the accent with my slighly retard grammar and pretending my tongue was three times bigger than it is. Anyway, the librarian told me that what I look for isnt there, but that the old witch Utala knows about things like that, my worries about Utala being the witch from yesterday were quickly dissmissed though, as the directions given to me by the librarian led me to an area I hadnt been in before.
Sure enough, there was a witch there, though not as old and haggard as the one I killed, she was still ancient beyond belief.
She talked to me in common, and went on and on about wanting me to warm her bed, I might had, if she was 200 years younger. Eventually she agreed to let me help her in another way, and explained that her crystal had to be recharged somehow in sites strong with magic. I will return home and stock up on supplies before going out to search for those six points and returning the crystal ball to her.
Im not sure what to expect though, but at least I feel like Im moving forward again.
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Rank: Squire
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Day 59
Spent the last days trying to earn the trust of the Tyreans so I can go with them on their ship, I wont go into the details much as if anyone found this journal somehow would have a vendetta against me. The Jarl Thorunn however seemed less than happy about my assistance, I just hope that the foundation is placed for future use.
In the evening, as I walked towards the Tyrean mage tower I found one of its caretakers outside, one Snaer Leifson. After a bit of a semi hostile start, I learned that he was a novice from the temple in Tyris, sent out into the world to study it. This prophet of Guthraneil proved to be most knowlegable and sensing a mindset similar to m own I disclosed my quest with him, to which he responded with great interest and I could have sworn, happiness,
He said that he would talk to the Einherjer about allowing us with him on the next patrol run and suggested that I rent a room in Tyris for the night. Maybe earning their trust wont take so long after all..
Day 60
Woke up in my room at the inn, went downstairs and bought some breakfast and told them to dispatch a rider for miss Woods, I had a feeling she might be needed. Sure enough, just as I was finishing eating, she knocked on the door and let herself into the room. I told her about what had transpired yesterday and asked her if she wouldnt mind comming along and help out. She looked slightly bored by the prospect of re-exploring the continent but reluctantly she agreed.
We made our way to the Western gate, where we spotted a female Mhordul being attacked by a Tyrean bandit. I asked miss Woods to dispatch the bandit and she did with a well aimed shot right through the skull. I asked the savage to leave with her life and belongings intact, and like a hungry animal she scavanged the bandit quickly, but a warning shot from miss Woods scared her off.
Snaer showed up a little later, and suggested we look at the fae forests for these "Nexus". We made our first stop the Greenheart wood, but despite finding a hidden cave there we had no luck in getting a responce from the crystal. The way back was more exciting however, as a couple of Wyverns had strayed away to the other side of the mountain, but luckily miss Woods were able to take them out with her arrows.
Saying goodbye she left us and went for the Dragons Kneecap, while me and Snaer went back to Tyris to try and find this Iyvar and follow him on his patrol around the islands. My glee barely lets me hold the pen in my hand, for while the first few islands were empty, we came to one small island with three mountains on it, and to my great astonishment and mirth, the crystal shook as we stood in the middle of the mountains, seemingly drawing some sort of white flowing mist into itself, recharging it. A side effect was however that some of the mist remained and took a more aggresive and solid form, after a few of these shapes had spawned, they attacked and sure enough used magic against us. Luckily Iyvar was one of the best warriors in Tyris and he managed to defeat the spirits, but only with great difficulty.
Further study was hindered as a great ball of flame struck the ground near Snaer and a DRAGON with scales like iron moved towards us. We made a hasty escape to our ship and sailed back to Tyris for reinforcements. I looked at the Einherjer and he was grinning like an idiot and almost shaking with barely contained battlelust as we sailed back home.
When we made landing, Iyvar quickly ran off to summon more warriors to help us, Snaer was concerned that the dragon might follow us to Tyris and reasoned that it had to be dealt with swiftly. Iyvar returned and shortly after the warriors of Tyris followed, a bit too many in fact and I offered to stay here and leave more room on the boat for the rest, besides I wanted to look at the library in the temple that Snaer had spoken of.
My time there wasnt going to bear much fruit I fear, nothing interesting that I hadnt known yet. At least I think so, the vast majority of books were written in tyrean.
A prophet finally told me that the lookouts had spotted the ship on its way back and I went out there to greet them. The dragon had been slain, sure enough. And nothing out of the ordinary was found on the island this time. Content with this I went back to my room.
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Day 61 to 67
I havent wrote a thing in my journal in the past days, as they have become a blurr to me in all this excitement. I am so much closer to my goal now, as only one location remains undiscovered. Snaer and I had a theory of the nexuses being tied to each human race around the continent, and for a good while it seemed to be correct.
First we found the Nexus near the Alyrian "Garden", and like before the magical energies drew the attention of the same beings as we encountered on the island. They were dispatched of quick enough thanks to miss Woods and her skilled use of that bow of hers. Not before I got hit in the chest by a white glowing orb and got knocked out though.. the damned thing stung for 2 days after that.
After our initial success, Snaer led us into the deserts of Khemet, where we fought a couple of goblin and ogre tribes to no avail. But when he led us to an oasis to refill our waterskins, the crystal shook and the same mist occured. This time it was Snaer that took a bite of the dust, but me and miss Woods were able to get him out of there and pick off the magic elementals one by one.
Our third destination, the jungles of Azhur was.. horrible, just bloody awful. I hate the jungles on a normal day, but having to search them for landmarks is just impossible, and I think we went over that forsaken place twice without as much as a reaction from the crystal. Upset and angry at the ordeal we left the swamps and jungles in favour of the Highwayman Inn.
Once there Snaer and miss Woods had their well deserved rest, seeing as it has been days since we had eaten well or slept in beds. I myself wasnt content though, I had to go search again on my own. Packing my bags with supplies I made it for the jungles again, then the swamps, then the forests around the Highwayman, then the Storm giants temple, then the Mountain passage between Tyris and Mhordul lands. Nothing.
But after running over a bridge in Mhordul, close to a waterfall, the crystal finally reacted, making my list shorter and the theory of the racial nexuses still to be proven wrong. I dont relish going into the jungles a third fucking time. Looking at my map though, I decided to make for the Highwayman again and pass the Necropolis, "just in case".
To my surprise and great joy, I found the crystal to react a fifth time inside the old Castle there, meaning that only one location remains, hopefully I can catch a ship again with Snaer and miss Woods soon. Those islands seem pretty tempting to explore, and I believe hold the final Nexus.
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Day 70
Ah hindsight.. how I wish there was a way to smack myself in the head a day earlier for not knowing what I know now. I finally found the sixth Nexus, and like that gnawing uncertainty in the back of my head suggested, it was at "Insula Magna", more precisely their stag gazing telescope. Of course the Insularii built their city there, they were accomplished magi after all.
No matter, with the help of a woman named Saga and Iyvar the Einherjer, we quickly dispatched the guardians of the Nexus and hastily explored the tower in the city, nothing of use to me there, but it seems a portal is still functional there, peculiar. After that however, we made a hasty return voyage to Tyris and I set out to look for Snaer to deliver to him the good news so he can report to the Jarl about this. I've decided to try and bring Snaer along to the Crystal exchange, if nothing else but for the humour of watching the 200 year old hag make a pass at him.
I just hope this information is worth it, and in a way it already has, the knowledge of these locations might prove useful in the future.
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Day 73
Today has been... a dissapointment in so many ways.
Snaer and myself made our way back to Utala's cottage and handed her the recharged crystal. She seemed pleased enough for a while, but her smile quickly faded and blood came out of her mouth and she fell over dead. Mouthes gaping, we saw a man in robes materialize behind her, a bloodied dagger in his hands. Ignoring us, he reached for the crystal and took it before we had a chance to stop him. But we were quickly on him, daggers and staff impaling and pummeling his body.
What a mistake that was.. he wades through our blows like a grown man wades through a puddle, and worse, he cast magick at us. And it hurt bad, I havent experianced such powerful spells ever before, without Snaer's healing I would have been killed outright. The last thing I saw of the assassin mage was a bolt of lightning from his fingers.
When I woke up I looked over and found Snaer groaning with his face to the floor as well, more surprising I found Utala still clinging to life. She warned us that he had to be stopped, and the way to do that was to first learn his true name. Snaer was still too weak from the attack to help save her life and she passed away without any clue as to where to start.
Furious, I slammed a fist into the table and begun to search the room for anything of importance, while rummaging through a pair of shelves a curious necklace fell from it. Taking it as a good luck charm, I lifted the body of Utala on my shoulder and we made our way to the nearby volcano where we offered her body to the lava. In a spectacular show of fire and explosion she went to meet her Gods.
I told Snaer that my only suggestion at this point was to head for Vhaluran and Varkos Balthoras and try to summon the old Spirit, for once Varkos actually answered my call for help. Spilling the full story to him, he told me that knowing the True Name of a magi will make his spells less effective on you, and your spells more powerful on him. Snaer in his great Tyrean tact, complained about not being able to shoot fireballs out our asses, but the first effect of this knowledge is enough for me this time. Of course Varkos had no idea where to look either, but if we had a chance to know the person, he -could- tell us his true name, in return for absolution for his crimes when he lived, something only the King could do..
I seem to be well over my head, suppose I kill this assassin mage, then what? It wont bring me much closer to understanding anything... But then again he might be too dangerous to be left alive, I guess time will tell.
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Day 89
Been a while since anything interesting happened, that all changed today though.
The king finally granted me and Snaer his audience, despite the First Knight displaying new levels of arrogance unknown to mortals when he heard me. Anyway, the king was very reluctant to grant Varkos his wish, apperantly the crimes were even graver than the history books tell me. In the end the king decided that something has to be made though, luckily he doesnt want to take any chances that I bring false information, and he gave me a scroll with his royal seal that enables me all available aid from Vhalurians until the end of this year. Guess Im a royal agent now.. Shame that the king has such rigid morals though, but he is a good man.
Me and Snaer brought the news to Varkos who, after whining how weak he was, proposed another deal, that we would go to the Vhalurian crypts and summon his master Octavius and put him to rest, so Varkos could have the power back to help us. Snaer didnt like this at all, and he had me doubting as well, what if we are releasing something greater than we are trying to stop? Bah, I cant think like that, if I do nothing we'll be 6 feet under soon enough anyway.
Interestingly though. We learned Varkos' true name from his master before we put him to rest, as a sort of "insureance" that Varkos wont be feeling too confident with his regained powers, I wont write that here as my journal could be stolen.
When we returned to Varkos, again, he was visibly changed, an aura of power around him and a malicious grin on his face. He told us that we need to preform a ritual and that some ingredients had to be gathered, before we left however, I took the chance to remind Varkos that nobody is invulnerable and calling him by his true name, that wiped the grin from his face. But I doubt he will back on our deal anyway, it's just good to have him know that in case he tries anything in the future.
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The ruler smacked down hard across his fingers, dotting the table with small drops of blood as Sister Hannah reeled back from her third blow.
Still the little dark haired boy with blue eyes didn’t shed a tear, much to Sister Hannah’s dismay. She scowled and sent him back to his seat again. He knew he would stay until after dark again the moment he tried to hold the quill in his sore hands, nobody left class until they finished today’s penmanship exercise.
He couldn’t sleep that night because of the pain, and no comfort was asked or given. He hated the Sisters and the other orphans in equal measure, except one: Fredrick. That little brat deserved another type of loathing altogether. Usually whenever Talius had snuck away from the Orphanage or stolen some food from the storage, it was Fredrick who turned him in, and usually got the food as a reward.
At the age of 14 however, Talius had enough and ran away to the docks in Vhaluran where he joined the crew of a merchant vessel. For a while the young Vhalurian was happy with his life, his fellow crewmen didn’t think of him as a little boy, but was taught to fence, drink and curse with the best of them, mostly because the crew found it amusing for a young boy shouting indecent proposals to the ladies on shore.
Three years he spent on that merchant vessel, but one time while they were loading up the ship, Talius had been drawn into a drinking contest at a local tavern and passed out behind the bar. Missing his ship and living in poverty in a foreign land, he was forced to steal and kill for a living, and that’s when he made a grave mistake.
One of his robberies went wrong and his intended victim managed to clear enough space to draw his cutlass. Soon the ringing of iron on iron had drawn a great crowd around them, cheering and taking bets. Talius was largely unharmed, having just one cut on his forearm that he had to sacrifice to deflect a blow at his throat. The other man however was bleeding from a series of small wounds all over, and his movements became more and more sluggish. With time on his side, Talius waited until the man almost fainted and then pierced his heart.
“A cruel life makes for cruel men” Talius thought as he looked into the eyes of the man and felt much less guilt than he had expected for taking a life. Then suddenly he felt a blow to the back of his head and the cobblestones came rushing up to meet him.
Talius woke up with a splitting headache on a vessel he didn’t know. Immediately he was brought before its captain, one of the local pirate lords named Hrolf Redface, because of the red birthmarks covering half his head. Hrolf had to be the largest man Talius had ever seen, and indeed people whispered that his mother had been a giant who had shrunk herself down with sorcery to mate.
Hrolf held Talius over the railing in his shirt and gave the option of replacing the crewman he had killed or swim back home. Seeing no land in sight, Talius agreed to option one and lived of piracy. He had thought about running away next time they made shore, but Hrolf had reminded him that he was a wanted murderer and that he would gladly turn him in. Talius told himself that was the reason why he didn’t leave, but he knew it was something else: he liked the freedom, lack of responsibility and comradery in a strange way.
Being the only one able to read or write, he was soon a trusted lieutenant on “The Crimson Tide” as the ship was known, life was good to him, he had wealth, women and wine. He still remember the events that had caused his life to be turned upside down as clear as it was yesterday…
It was late evening and the sun was setting, there was a thick fog across the sea. Watchman Lars was up at the lookout, shaking an empty bottle of rum upside down and sighing.
“Fucking cunts, leaving empty bottles for the next watch”
He began his climb down again, froze and looked out into the fog for half a minute and shook his head before climbing down. When he returned he sat down and took a deep sip from the fresh bottle, but before he could swallow he spat it out and yelled to the helmsman.
“REEF! REEF STARBOARD SIDE!”
Nathan, the ship’s first mate, quickly but calmly changed course to get them away from the danger of running aground. Captain Hrolf came out of his cabin, still buckling his pants and exchanged a few words with Nathan when the lookout yelled again.
“Captain! Shipwreck in the reef!”
Hrolf took out his spyglass and tried to spot this stranded ship in the dense fog. Nathan ordered the men that were waking up to drop anchor and furl the sails. Talius rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he strode towards the captain.
“What’s the matter Hrolf?”
“Seems that a merchant vessel got stranded against the reef… Gather a few men and investigate if there’s anything left to take.”
Talius nodded wearily and pointed at a couple of men as he made for the boats. He strapped his rapier to his hip and climbed down the roap ladder to the waiting boat along with five other men. As they were heading over to the ship, a glimmer caught his eye in the captains cabin, but before he could fix his eye at it, it disappeared.
*Probably the moon reflecting something inside* Talius thought to himself. Minutes later they were onboard the ship, and from the looks of it, it had been here for a few months at least. But the sight of blood on the deck and walls made his heart race and he drew his rapier. His fellow shipmates did the same and they cautiously made their way into the ships hold. It was halfway under water and the men waded though it, but it was Carl that finally spoke.
“The goods.. They haven’t been touched.. Why hasn’t anyo… AAAH!”
Carl was cut short as a pale and bloated corpse floated past them, its throat torn and its eyes and lips gone, possibly fish. Hopefully fish.
“Its just a body ya pussy!” Uriel laughed and the rest laughed with him.
“Shut the hell up and stand still!” Talius snapped. His ears straining. He could hear the sound of someone or something wading through the water between them and the stairs up to freedom.
“Whatever that is, kill it.” He instructed his men. As the.. Thing, made it under the staircase he could see what was once a man, but now nothing more than a rotting pile of moving flesh. Carl and two others jumped the unholy creature, quickly cutting it down.
“Did you see that Uriel? I was all swish! And he was all dead again” Carl said in a mocking tone, a laugh burst from everyone else as Uriel gave Carl the finger. But something wasn’t right, zombies at the open sea? Who raised it? And was its master still around?
“Uriel, Carl, Markus. Get a few of those chests up on deck. The rest will come with me to the captains cabin” Talius said and left for the cabin, what he saw there was a scene from his worst nightmares. Impaled to his chair, the captain’s corpse sat without a face and left arm as two more zombies gnawed at his remains. Luckily for Talius and his men, the zombies seemed not to notice them and lost their heads for it. As he was wiping his rapier clean he heard swords ringing and Uriel laugh outside, but the laughter was cut short by his death scream.
“Move! To the others!” Talius shouted and grabbed the captains log as he ran outside. When they arrived, they found only Markus alive, hiding behind some chests and muttering and crying: “Red eyes! Red dead eyes! Blood on the walls, on the deck, on the dead..”
“Carry him and two chests to the boat and lets get the fuck out of here..” Talius whispered and his men didn’t need any further encouragement…
After telling Captain Hrolf the whole story, Hrolf had ordered men to row to the ship with oil lamps and smash them on the deck of the accursed ship, setting it on fire. Somewhat at ease, Talius had retired to his bed to read the logs from the merchant ship. To his surprise, they weren’t logs at all, but a book about a mystical and ancient force called “Magic”…
Years later…
Talius smiled to himself as the man and the whore made their way to the top bedrooms of the brothel. He sipped his wine and spun the goblet with his wrist. He had been in the upper bedroom earlier with the same woman, he needed release, sure. But he was far more keen in her other clients and how she worked. She liked to take command, to throw the men on the bed and sit on top. It was perfect. Under the mattress Talius had planted a wooden board with 5 inch spikes, coated in desert scorpion poison, just in case, he was sure the spikes alone would kill the man when he was flung at the bed by the whore.
The man was an apprentice scholar, specializing at law and embezzlement of gold. Not unlike any other who shared his profession, the outer appearance was flawless and Talius found it highly amusing that he would be found dead in a brothel. A scream from a woman rang from upstairs and Talius raised his eyebrows and emptied his goblet, tossed a few coppers on the bar and stood up.
“Good riddance Fredrick..” He said as he closed the door behind him.
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Rank: Knight
Groups: Administrator
Joined: 7/4/2008
Posts: 317
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
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[Thanks to Jabberwock for writing this for us]
[15th of Elysius, 1000]
Lost subject on the border of the Alyrian forest. Last known direction was south.
[16th of Elysius, 1000]
Regained sight of subject at the Highwayman. Traveling without escort. Left the Inn in the small hours of the night. Knows he is being watched. Direction is still south.
[18th of Elysius, 1000]
Subject entered the great Zigurrat. Fifth time this month. Suggest increasing the number of eyeballs on this location. Pattern indicates it might be his haven.
[20th of Elysius, 1000]
Subject has not come out for two days. Never before lingered in one place for this long, highly unusual behaviour. Suggest sending a task force inside.
[21th of Elysius, 1000]
Ready to enter the Zigurrat. Unusual sounds coming from its depths for the past eight hours. Nothing like the usual guttural moaning. Subject has not come out for nearly three days. This might be the moment. Months of surveillance. Sealing the log book, Brothers will know what to do with it if anything happens. Going inside.
Lucent Brotherhood Lieutenant, Thomas Braithwarthe
There are only echoes of footsteps. Those causing them are moving too furtively to even produce the original sounds. It is more of a natural reflex of the environment – the stone is so used to echoing when something steps on it that it does not notice the absolute silence of the steps. Ghost echoes, amplified by the terminal emptyness of the corridors. They used to be full. Overrun by some kind of ever-replenishing, ichor-oozing hellspawns, the kind of things that make one miserable and filled with a profound sadness for the earth – that it has to house such things in its bowels.
But nothing this time. Only a constant, low pitched sound, embedded in the very air. The task force advances, ever wary. But there is nothing to be wary about. There is nothing except for the sound. Just terminal darkness, the stone, and that spectral note. Down, down, spiraling into the womb of the earth, whence all the things that should not be come from.
In the very bottom chamber, they prepare to dodge the gigantic spawn of filth and decay that has for aeons dwelt there, ever-regenerating itself, madness and meat personified. Nothing. Spectral is the utter lack of anything where they had expected something. The sound is much louder now. They can trace its origin. A moment of inspection, trained eyes, masters of locks and hidden passages... Click, they find it. The staircase leads even further down, into depths that should never be reachable by things that have seen the sun. As they enter the single chamber at the true bottom of the pyramid, a profound horror overwhelms them.
Grown men, veterans of countless battles start crying. It is not tears of desperation, fear, panic or terror. Just a sincere, deeply true and strongly empathic feeling of pity. Pity for the land. Pity for the soil. Pity for people, men and women, who live on Khaeros and go to sleep every night, not knowing what lurks under the ground that they ironically call "solid".
A titanic void. A single chamber of untold proportions. The ceiling is too high. It does not even seem to exist. It feels as though the only thing that hovers over their heads is an endless strip of the stuff that makes up the black gulfs between the stars. Everything held up by simply six columns, the size of which would send people less accustomed to the unusual plainly mad. And in the centre of all this, Him. Emitting that devilish sound, that tomb-pitched wheeze that seems to coil upwards, digging into the very heart of existence! And that shadow hovering over him, amplified by the thousands of candles scattered around the eldritch chamber, that shadow that has a HUMAN GRIN...
"You fools... the one you called Crimson King is already dead." Reassuring words, if they had not come precisely from the Crimson King's mouth.
Years later, the Lucent Brotherhood would find the missing logbook. It would go down in the annals as the very first account of Great War II. The last entry, scribbled in maddening haste, read as such:
By the gods, what has he DONE-
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Rank: Knight
Groups: Administrator
Joined: 7/4/2008
Posts: 317
Location: Sao Paulo, Brazil
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Night. Darkness. The rain pouring lightly, as if scared to touch the shoulders of a hooded figure that stood beside a digging site.
Death. The scent of it was everywhere. Warriors and beasts unearthed from an ancient ground, a place that once a mighty and proud civilization called their home.
Rotting limbs clawed the earth and pulled the dead from within the depths of the land. Their movement was clumsy, but performed with disturbing rhythm and organization, such that can only seen in those that have no will of their own, that have lost control upon their beings to some greater, deific entity.
Nature itself was desperately crying for that horrific spectacle to stop. Its thundering call grew stronger by the minute, as the body of a once great soldier was stolen from its resting place. He would become an experiment. A toy. A mockery of life and death, of everything that is human, and would again be killed by those who had put him to rest in the first place.
This, at first, was not what Etrius had in mind. He merely wanted an army, the strongest, more powerful and obedient fighting body that he could amass. And what would be more perfect than a legion of the dead?
No, it was perfect enough as a strategy, but... if he could get himself some revenge while at it, the better. And so the prospect of forcing under his will those that once had deemed him an inferior mage, ah, how exhilarating it was!
All the years he had spent in that damned Tserjicanth Outpost, wasting his precious time chasing after Necromancy for the Insularii, a mission that, by itself, was no more than a polite banishment from Insula Magna.
Against all odds, however, he was successful. Not only in not being destroyed, as his countrymen were, but also in finding knowledge and power beyond imagination.
Such was his joy the decaying flesh, that once stood proud as General Petronius Furius, now was animated under his command. It was even more rewarding to leave a remainder of his psyche and will, so that it could be tormented by the existance it was forced into.
A few months had passed since Petronius unwillingly joined the ranks of the undead and Etrius was not pleased with his performance. He constantly saught to undermine his master's plans, by clinging to some humanity and wish to persevere that perhaps was not even there when he was alive. This was somewhat frustrating, but, at the same time, incredibly quaint to behold.
Even more interesting was the way some Vhalurians seemed willing to help him recover the sword that had been taken from his dying hand during the battle in Insula Magna. This puzzled Etrius beyond belief and, for a moment, there was worry in his heart that Petronius would manage to break free from his spell and join the Trilliance against his former master.
But his cry for help was met with defeaned ears.
The general marched with a small host of undead warriors at his command and stood in front of Vhaluran, ready to receive the answer to his plea.
"Have your superiors considered my offer, soldier?", he asked in his deep, monstrous voice and Sergeant Luke promptly answered him:
"Yes, General, but we will be coerced by your threats."
"You do understand that by refusing to return me what is rightfully mine, you will force me to attack and kill your citizens, fullfilling the will of my master?"
"Your kind is full of lies and deceit, General. We will not deal with the Insularii or the undead", replied the Vhalurians.
"The blood of your countrymen will be on your hands, soldier."
Victory. Mirth and hope. The Vhalurians rejoiced as the last of the undead fell under their blades. Petronius' corpse lied dismembered by the river, deprived of its arms, of any hope, of its memories.
The allied nations had succeeded in defeating him. But what had they accomplished by doing so?...
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Rank: Squire
Groups: Player
Joined: 7/8/2008
Posts: 80
Location: Sweden
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Day 122
I finally managed to catch Varkos in this realm, time? I gave him the reagents for his ritual that might divine the location or the true name of the necromancer Etrius.
Varkos seemed.. he seemed truly remorseful when he spoke to me about his past crimes today. Usually he would mention them as a matter of fact, as a part of history, but tonight it was as if he for the first time in decades actually took the blame for it again. Perhaps the imminent threat of Etrius and to his beloved Vhaluran has instilled the spectre with some kind of compassion and purpose.
Eventually though, I have to confront Etrius, and according to Varkos, my current skills in combat arent enough for that, so, I wrapped up my trusty rapier "Seafang" in some cloth and hid it away. Instead I picked up a massive greatsword which I christened "Frostfang" and garbed myself in studded leather for protection. It'll be taxing trying to get used to the changes, but no matter. I will be ready.
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Rank: Squire
Groups: Player
Joined: 7/8/2008
Posts: 80
Location: Sweden
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5 years ago...
Ever since they returned from the haunted shipwreck, the other crewmen had left Talius alone. Maybe they were grieving their lost comrades, or maybe they thought the book he took was cursed, either way, his rum supplies were no longer stolen.
Hrolf had finished inspecting the contents of those chests they brought with them from the shipwreck, mostly linnen and spices from Khemet and a little bit of silver, things that would give a hefty price at the black market. The massive Tyrean was pleased.
After a couple of days of reading the book, Talius could come to the conclusion that it was mostly an assortment of fiction, hearsay and rumours, even the odd blatant children's story. It became obvious that magical tomes were a thing of the past, if they ever existed at all! He closed the book and put it into a backpack with his personal belongings that he would take with him to the inn when they reached the docks.
While Hrolf and Talius was making their way to the black market with their booty, the rest of the crewmen did their best to get drunk or laid. They would surely succeed at getting drunk, most of them would probably get laid as well if they had the copper for it, except maybe Roger "Rash" Larkin if his infamy had spread here.
Once their goods were sold, Hrolf and Talius made their way back to the inn. Hrolf would most likely try to find a wench to warm his bed, if they could both fit in it at the same time. Hrolf liked to tell the story about how he was once demanded to pay double because of his size. Talius smirked and didnt want to know which size Hrolf was referring to. Talius wouldnt mind a woman himself, but he was tired and if any crewmen messed with the law, it would be good to have someone decently sober and alert and with pants on. No, he would get one tomorrow when the rest of the crew were broke.
Once in his room, Talius poured himself a goblet of wine and threw a log on the fireplace. He unpacked his things and lay out some fresh clothes for the morrow when his eye caught the book. Ah yes, that book, the one who stimulated his interest in this fairytale nonsense of "Magic". He lifted the book and looked at the covers for a moment before tossing it into the fire. He unbuckled "Seafang" from his belt and placed it on the floor next to the bed, then he took the goblet of wine and strode to the window, where he sat on the ledge and looked out over the city. Some halbert armed guards were escorting away drunken sailors, though none of his, thankfully. A particulary ugly woman was haggling with Roger "Rash" Larkin, probably as damaged downstairs as Roger himself. Talius emptied the goblet and went to sleep.
He dreamt of magic.
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Rank: Squire
Groups: Player
Joined: 7/8/2008
Posts: 80
Location: Sweden
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2 years ago…
The metallic taste of blood in his mouth have been a constant companion to him every time Hrolf insisted on sparring with Talius. This time it was different. For once, it was their ship that got boarded.
They had been taken by surprise, no. They had been served, sold out by the watchman that night, Roger “Rash” Larkin.
He rolled away just in time for the Khemet soldier to plant his scimitar in the deck. A quick legswipe later and the roles were reversed, Talius did not miss.
Up ahead Hrolf was using a great sword in each hand, cleaving the dress wearing desert apes in half whenever they got within reach.
“Come on you Sand monkeys! At least die like men! Talius! To me!”
“Captain?”
“We’re loosing, damn it! I’ll not let these women take my ship, go below and light the powder kegs”
“Captain..”
“Do it, Horseshagger!”
“Aye Captain, prepare to abandon ship soon”
Talius pushed his way down below the deck, on his way he had to jump over people he had known for years, now dead and gone. Were they friends? He didn’t really know, friends were few and far between. Regardless, they were gone and nothing could change that.
He impaled one of the raiders and pushed him ahead as a shield barging through a cluster of Khemetar blocking the way. Once down below, he was relieved to see that the way to the black powder was open.
Working with the fuses in the gloom, with the sounds of angry feet and larger bangs of dead men dropping on the deck below is still haunting him to this day. Just as he was finished and about to light the fuse, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked down and to his surprise saw a female hand, delicate and tanned. He threw himself to the side and got rewarded with a dagger in his shoulder that was meant for his neck. Rolling forward and quickly unsheathing “Seafang” as he turned and stared at his assailant. A beautiful Khemetar woman with deep brown eyes and tanned skin, her head, privates and breasts were covered in yellow veils. He was temporary mesmerized by her, just what she needed to plant a kick in his chest, knocking him back and taking the wind out of him.
Above deck, Roger and the Khemetar captain were watching his betrayal unfold.
“A thousand thanks from my city to you mister Larkin, finally we are able to end the largest pirate threat to our waters in decades.”
“I am glad to be of assistance..”
“Your voice seems hesitant, can you not see we control the battle?”
“Then why is still Hrolf alive?”
“Because I wish it so, I will kill the dog and bring his head back to the Neferan personally”
Captain Ahmunis stepped down from his vantage point and made for Captain Hrolf. Calling out challenges and striking down pirates like a cobra with his scimitar. Hrolf looked at the tiny man and laughed at his challenge.
“Really, if I wanted to wrestle with a woman I would just see your wife”
“Silence dog, you are an affront to my waters and to my Neferan”
“Ahah! That cock rider! I have a message for your loving Neferan”
“Tell me and I’ll be sure to deliver him your last wo…”
Ahmunis was cut short by the thrown great sword of Hrolf landing in his chest and throwing him back several metres.
“Tell him that Hrolf shagged his sister 2 weeks ago. LARKIN! You’re next!”
With a roar Talius flung himself at the assassin, knocking her against the wall, and grabbing her wrist to bash the knife from her hand, standing on her toes to avoid a knee hitting vital areas. She squirmed in his grip but found no chance of getting loose, so she started to swear and bite feebly after him, Talius silenced her with a head butt, then proceeded to carry out his orders.
Above, Captain Hrolf watched Talius jump ship, cursing in Tyrean one last time at his foes and tossing an empty barrel overboard, he joined Talius. Leaving a screaming and kicking Roger, tied securely at the helm.
When the ship finally exploded, the Khemetar one did too, and comfortably out of danger and clinging to a barrel Hrolf and Talius laughed.
That was the end of his sailing days, Talius and Hrolf made it ashore near the ogres in North eastern Khemet, they joined a Tyrean merchant caravan and hitched a ride back to Vhaluran, where Talius left his former Captain to start over, later he heard that Hrolf had a splinter in his leg after the explosion that got infected and caused him to limp, so he settled down in Tyris as a bouncer and then barkeep at the Mermaid.
As for Talius he once again lived as a thief and a burglar, but rarely stealing anything anymore, he had a new craving. Information. And he recalled a dream he had long, long ago.
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Rank: Squire
Groups: Player
Joined: 7/8/2008
Posts: 80
Location: Sweden
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Day 195
They call me Sorcerer.
The revelations that my teacher, Varkos, showed me set my mind free of its restrictions of the minds of mere mortals. At least that’s what he said. For an entire summer I held my new… skills, hidden from my fellow humans. Those were simple days, train, harness and perfect my magical abilities. At first only his Majesty knew of my true nature, then Jarl Thorunn of the Tiddjaegern clan, I was forced to flaunt my powers in the open though that night at the bank.
An assassin and kidnapper named Servius had been employed by my enemy Etrius to kill me, and damned near succeeded too, if it hadn’t been for the intervention of two guards giving me enough time to cast a spell on him. The damage was done though and I was wounded. Worse, I was poisoned. Luckily I had some people helping me, but the poison makes it all a blurr, what I do recall however is being left to slowly die and vomit in the temple by the Patriarch himself while he delivered the stolen crown to the queen…
For about a week I was unable to focus my mind and conjure my spells, and while I lay there alone in the hospital, the rumours outside ran rampant. When I finally was able to walk again without causing severe headache, my grasp of the arcane returned to me. I walked the streets of Vhaluria, hearing the hushed whispers behind my back and seeing conversations dying whenever I approached.
“The sorcerer”
“it’s the warlock”
Mothers would drag their children away if I strode down the same path. Ironic really, considering I am supposed to protect them. Then again I protect them from other magi. As I walked past the orphanage where I grew up, I wondered how many children were put there because of the Insularii mages. I felt… disgusted by how they have perverted the aether to their own gain.
Or was it power who corrupted them? Will I eventually scorn “mortals” as they do? I hope not. I hope that my experiences have humbled me enough to prevent that.
At least I am making some progress, I have recently learned that there is a location that the ritual to weaken Etrius can be preformed. The old arch mages hid the locations true nature in six cryptic scrolls and scattered them across the continent. So far I have found two, and Im close to locating the third one. I can feel it.
The Insularii have retreated from their mine on the mainland and have vanished without much of a trace. Im fairly certain however that the Necromancer has gone back to Insula Magna, and that the last battle for that island isn’t over yet.
Finally I have been informed that a group calling themselves the Communion is plotting to kill me. I don’t have time for petty annoyances now. I need to focus on the Insularii and Etrius.
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