Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

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Aethereal
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Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Fri Sep 10, 2021 7:37 am

The words inscribed within this tome are all in the Espruar script (with flourishes of Hamarfae) regardless of whether words are written in Common or Elven, marking it simply as a matter of preference or habit; probably both.

This is where my guiding star has led me, the realm of Impiltur, the Forgotten Kingdom they call it. And upon arriving I was met with someone who has very quickly become a dear friend and guide around these parts, but mostly the city she calls home: Sarshel. Though I have the usual cryptograms to unravel to decipher the starlight, I do not feel any sense of urgency. So I have decided to take my time and take in all the sights and sounds.

My approach has led me to venturing into the wilderness, to the mountains and along rivers, to behold a place of great significance as well as the more urban delights beheld in the city proper, such as the establishment known as Sayildi's. But where I am now is, I am sure, where I was meant to come. In Songhall, several miles from Sarshel, is the great House of Many Tomes. A place so grand that it is comparable to not just Candlekeep but the libraries back home.

Yet there is something amiss, even here and I think this is not without fateful purpose. I will record now what led me to the Easting Reach, for I believe it will be most important to all that I am to do here:
"Oh but the troubles that have befallen Impiltur...
Far away in the lands of the Easting Reach, a realm of storied history, of gods-fearing folk, and yet...
Of shadows hiding away in its midst.
You, Eldaereth, I implore do look within."
I am here to investigate the shadows in the midst of the light. Or is even that notion an incorrect interpretation? I cannot truly know the intent or ageless wisdom of my ancestors made manifest so easily. Nonetheless, my suspicion is that I have found a lead. Here in Songhall, within the very walls of the settlement is an abandoned building. An innocuous enough thing, had it not contained an unexpected passage to a clandestine subterranean network! By every assessment I can think of this as nothing less than a breach of the city walls, a weakness in the very foundation of the establishment, or indeed, a dark design.

I do not come to concern nor the expectation of darkness without reason either, for there is an eldritch quality to the bones that have settled beyond the breach in the building. It is clearly the aftermath of a terrible conflict, bones of the fallen littering the area yet the trouble is that despite the clear age of the remains of the dead the blood that was spilled upon this battlefield carries a quality of freshness about it. Some residual dweomers or desecration of old remains, which I hypothesise to be connected to the fallen empire of Narfell and its sinister covens of daemon-worship. The abandoned building itself appears to be a chapel after all and if one travels further into the breach other unholy paraphernalia will be encountered.

This is just the beginning. The ranger Rain of the Silverwood mentions this subterranean complex reaches at least as far as Vlasta and the dwarven city of Earthfast. Whilst this may have merit in terms of trade, I cannot shirk the threat it poses to safety and security, in a realm still reeling from depredations of the daemonic.

I have settled on compiling a report before consulting with the Loremaster Amanuensis proper. She has been so gracious to accept me into the halls of Many Tomes and though she makes no mention of this breach behind the walls of Songhall, I find it difficult to believe that she would not be aware of it in some way or form. And yet, from all indications it seems either this community is oblivious to its presence, or they have wilfully turned a blind eye to it. In either instance, this is concerning.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Mon Sep 13, 2021 3:46 pm

Into the breach.

That’s what I have done. Gone straight into the breach.

My intentions with the posters that I have placed over the city were a starting point to my investigations. A way to broach the topic of inquiry in the broadest sense because despite having a specific target – the breach of Songhall and the shadow amidst light – I must have a greater understanding of this realm. That of its geography, of its people, of its dangers, economic climate, politics, laws, everything. No stone shall be left unturned if I am to make sense of what I am meant to find here.

I did not expect, however, for everything to escalate so quickly over these past days. To think I have gone into the depths of that clandestine underworld to gaze upon wonders, horrors, and the near doom of us all. Before I get to that though, I shall reflect upon those whom I have met and the names of those whom I must yet meet.

-

It must all begin with Kallian, my guide through these lands, and though the one with whom I have spent most of my time, she is the most mysterious of them all. She calls Sarshel home, naming it merely ‘the city’, as if it is the only one. Although seemingly acclimated to life here, she still seems out of place, as if despite having accepted the city as her home, it has not accepted her or perhaps – and I feel I should give her this credit – she has done everything to remain unknown here, as if it were her all by her design. Capable with her twin daggers as much as her crossbow, she seems full of secrets, not just of what she knows of this place, but of herself too. A long history that very clearly involves both love and loss, one with many burdens hidden just as she might herself keep hidden. I could not help but notice the look she gave when the arcanist Essuh Terik unveiled his visage, repeating that one word he spoke, ‘assassination,’ with what I could only describe as longing. I could be mistaken, but I cannot overlook this peculiarity.

The second person of note whom I’ve met is the Ranger of the Silverwood, Rain, who has come a great distance away from his range though for what reason and by what cause I have not ventured so far as to ask, yet. If I am not mistaken he is of Sy-tel’quessir and so seems very familiar with the wilderness even of this realm. It was he who provided the first insight regarding the breach of Songhall and has since led us out of it to an abandoned tower as well as guided us through the mountains to a special place Kallian wanted to show me. Rain’s familiarity with the natural world and his uncanny ability to find us in the wilds shall be of great boon to keeping aware of what happens beyond the city bounds, I am sure.

After establishing myself in the House of Many Tomes, it was not long before I met Silvyna of House Faerfyn, a fellow Ar-tel’quessir with whom I share much in common it seems since she has taken up residence here as well; truly an auspicious time for this place of knowledge! Having received a gift, arcane formulae specifically, we have agreed to a continued exchange of knowledge to advance our studies both in the Art and otherwise. Although for somewhat obvious reasons I must insist my focus is not on magic, I can see this accord taking us far and I am glad to have a fellow scholar to share insights with.

Next in mind there is Nephtiri, whom I encountered upon our return from the caverns with Rain. Though at first I mistook her for a certain kind of camp follower of Mulhorandi extraction, given all outward appearances. It was the fact that her powders spoke to me in a most familiar tongue, one beyond any artistry that could be wield by those of Mulhorand that unveiled the truth to mine eyes. So next we met, I ventured to speak words in the True Tongue and so heard it spoken back to me, fluently. Though a traveller to these lands, seeking secrets she cannot possibly find amongst its native offerings – to my knowledge so far, that is – for so well kept are they that I cannot even write them, she has found herself treated as a complete outsider. Be it the mask and cowl, the foreign garb and accoutrements, the refined yet strange mannerisms and movements, whatever it is it has led to her being named a demon by some and so relegated to life as an outcast, one which it seems has been her lot in life for all too long, I sense. A unique point of view and the wisdom that comes with it is what I have received and further anticipate from Nephtiri. And if she is to realise the secret art she seeks to master, then there is most definitely a side to her that I have yet to see. A worthy pursuit, and one which only the worthy may rightfully claim; so it is for all heights of mastery.

Bay, Bari Bay. It is as if those words alone, comprising just a name, should tell their own story of whom they describe. At least that is what she would lead me to believe, claiming to be, “probably the most interesting and dynamic person you are going to meet in this city.” Surprisingly, for such an outrageous claim she might be more right than wrong though in a most unexpected way. From what I have witnessed Bari plays the role of antagonist well, very well, arguably too well, risking bold claims of others such as suggesting the Stalwart Guard is in league with daemons, openly at that, in a city where such rumours could lead to the ruin of company regardless of their veracity. I have seen blood spilled for lesser claims (dare I say insults?) so brazenly made, so what I see then is someone whose brashness is a statement of their boldness, to go where few would in picking at the chinks of another’s armour; yet it is there one learns what is hidden beneath. This is a strength that cannot be overlooked, and though she claims – believably – not to fight, she is very knowledgeable of the locales of Impiltur such that only one who has exposed themselves to danger and great risks would know. In Bari, as I have mentioned to her myself, there is a link to others, to information, and thanks to her /connections/ with merchants and the like, potentially an avenue of acquiring that which is difficult to find. Though I suspect I should be cautious, even if she comes across as very genuine… in her own designing way?

Next is Talia of War and her companion Sal, of the Stalwart Guard. These two, warrior-priestess and battle-hardened fighter, make for a formidable duo both well-ventured and by my estimates relentless in their pursuit of battle and the spoils thereof. What they have seen of this world is without doubt remarkable, speaking of monsters such as wyverns and beholders off-hand as if they were but a casual and passing encounter amongst their many exploits. From the sounds of it they have great aspirations, if Bari is to be believed going so far as to outdo the Warswords in the region. Talia is Teu-tel’quessir and she speaks of aiding the people in getting better trained in these lands, and she has most definitely lived up to that claim. Sal, seems likewise motivated as is the objective of their company after all. Resourceful and familiar with warfare, I think they will be worthy allies if not necessary companions in venturing into the more dangerous parts of this realm. Though it must also be said that I owe Talia a favour in return for the generous gifts she has given me to further my Art, even if I cannot yet wholly pursue my magic here for obvious reasons.

Speaking of magic, the final figure of note I’ve so far met is the arcanist Essuh Terik. The Stalwart Guard refer to him as ‘the mad wizard’, but I find him to be a scholar and a gentleman, one who has offered to aid my work within the House of Many Tomes without hesitation. A fellow who respects knowledge and would aid in its furtherment earns a place in my good books. With that said, I can only guess at the arcanist’s history, one which has seen him at the receiving end of an assassination attempt. I would hypothesise this to have occurred back in his homeland, which from all appearances and by way of his arcana suggest Halruaa to me. I was also easily able to sense his specialisation, which may be both a statement of his dedication to it and also the source of his biases – which is the inevitable result of all specialisation.

So ends my assessment of those worthy souls whom I have met so far in my time here in Impiltur, but there are two names that have come to me as well, names without faces though they might be. The first is Merin, part of Sal and Talia’s cohort of the Stalwart Guard, said to be a chronicler and well versed in trade. The second is Nash, a native Filurian recommended to me by Bari as a worthy guide, described as a very tall and large woman who carries a spear and wears very little. I suspect I have seen her in passing already.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Wed Sep 15, 2021 6:27 am

It seems I had mistaken the rumours regarding whom the locals were calling a daemon. Although Nephtiri has dealt with some staring and glaring at her masked visage, and as a result certainly does appear the foreigner in the eyes of the natives, it was another tel’quessir who was targeted by the rabblerousing. She refers to herself as ‘this one’, and though I have not seen it myself, Nephtiri says that she wears a crown of antlers woven into a wreath of leather bands. From what I have seen, ‘this one’ seems very quiet to the point of secretive and withdrawn and was dressed in hides and a visage covered by an inordinately large hood. Referring to oneself in the third person to my mind is an indication of some spiritual oath or vow of humility, the likes of which I have seen amongst certain barbaric tribes.

Nephtiri believed it was a matter of cultural custom to speak in the third person, though such was expressed on the basis of a tragic lack of familiarity with the People – and that in itself shall be a great hurdle towards her chosen pursuit of mastery indeed. I, on the other hand, believe it may be a personal decision. Though I could be wrong, I say this based on knowing no caste or creed, even amongst the wildest and wooded of the People to possess such a trait. At the very least I can surmise that ‘this one’ travels with the Stalwart Guard and has likewise ventured with Nephtiri in ‘battling the tides of the raging sea’. I am uncertain of this meaning, whether it be swimming against the tide as if to escape it or literally engaged with elemental manifestations or other hostile aquatic foes, but it seems to line up with her familiarity with the ‘wrecks.’

With that correction of my records, I shall return to the tale of the breach and how it was that I beheld the dangers of the depths of the world as well as its marvels and the lessons learned from such derring-do.
-
It began by leaving the gates of Sarshel with Talia of War and Sal of the Stalwart Guard. Bari claims their company was known by another name and though it is of some value to keep aware of such change and why it may have occurred, I can only reflect on my experience. To that end, it was not long before we lost sight of the city walls behind us and entered some caverns unknown to me. Following in their wake I was but a passenger in the course they had charted, confident only in the knowledge that this journey would further my understanding of the realm and that it was to be a demonstration of a day in the life of those who seek fortune spelunking and tromping through danger in that profession so familiar to the realms – adventuring.

First, we traversed tunnels infested with flesh-eating hornets of immense size, and even as early as this part of our journey I had a suspicion this place was connected to the breach of Songhall. Not only was my suspicion confirmed, but apparently the path led to Vlasta as Rain mentioned and more than that Sal claimed that it even connects to the Underdark, citing how they uncovered the corpse of one of the most treacherous things to exist in our world. Even at the chance that this could be true, let alone having eye-witness accounts, this made my discovery of this place more concerning than I thought. And though I said nothing at the time besides expressing shock, I find their casual remarks about these vile monstrosities and above else such a black mark as the very hint of a cursed one here to be an expression of detachment from the reality of the danger it represents! These are extremely dark tidings and bode terrible ill for this realm and through my experience I have decided that my work here is of greater gravity than I expected. It is clear to my mind that the adventurers of this land cannot be counted upon to properly utilise all that they uncover in their many and seemingly single-minded exploits.

My sentiments continue to build up when I consider the rest of our journey. The next encounter was a lesson of its own. As we moved forward, we came across a dead monster of no small stature, hacked and slashed to pieces and sure enough this was not a great concern for our hosts. But as they went ahead passing a pool of drying blood and I too went to cross it; we were ambushed by a clacking horror and a grotesque thing they call a gibberling. This unlikely duo was spotted by Kallian who shouted from behind and as they came charging at me and I managed to move aside in time for Talia and Sal to step in. Battle is always a blur, but by now I had come to see our companions as the professionals they are, and the threats were dispatched swiftly.

According to our guides, the horror and gibberling must have been a patrol from the deeper tunnels they had missed as they passed ahead, and these sorts of things can happen, making it no more safe to be in the rear than at the vanguard in places like this. Thus, the first and main rule of the Stalwart Guard: everyone is to stay together at all times, and the group is to progress together. It seems this was to be an individual responsibility as much a collective one, and if we seem to lag too far behind we must close the gap or if someone falls behind, we must urge them on or call for a halt. The second rule seems as important as the first - to not draw the attention of anything that is not already engaged by the frontline and to stay well behind them.

I certainly must commend the efficiency with which these rules synthesise the organisational necessities of a successful (not dead and forgotten!) adventuring company. But there was another rule, and it was one we learned the true value of from what came next.

So far it was incredibly smooth sailing despite the grave dangers faced, but it was when Talia mentioned crystal golems – again so confidently, so casually citing such extraordinary things – motioning that they could be found past some webbing in the cavern ahead... when the winds of fate invariably yet imperceptibly changed. At the time, the mention of a crystal golem felt like just another case of name-dropping and my first thought was that it might be a product of artifice, a creation of some old alchemical workings and magic? After everything we’d already encountered and heard about, everything seemed absurd – I had truly jumped into the deep end. And as the vanguard moved forward, there was no time to reflect upon my thoughts but to state my interest in beholding such a sight. And even that moment was fleeting as Sal turned into the next tunnel and found himself struck face-first in a giant web.

And so he stood there, unable to move anything besides his mouth, “Welp, this is it for me.”

I thought his words were a joke. That he was just making light of the situation and that the predicament was nothing beyond the usual for him just as it was with all the great monsters he had dispatched along the way. But then the giant monstrosity that spat the web came charging on eight legs at him, and with swift movements of its mandibles, fangs, or legs struck him low quicker than I could realise how terribly real it all was. It was a nightmare made manifest, completely surreal, and so great a contrast to everything that came before that I was frozen in place.

Another spider came for Talia across the way but she managed to fight it back, then the wretched thing that sunk its fangs into Sal turned to Kallian, drawn by her well place bolt sunken into its cephalothorax. She turned back to me, speechless, yet in my mind I heard the memory of her words from our first trek into the unknown, "But if there is danger, I need you to run. Don't look back, and don't wait for me.” It was the same advice Rain had given us; it was the only true wisdom that I knew in the face of certain doom. And as I ran, I never heard her scream.

Though I heard a thud behind me as I fled, I could not look back. I knew what I had to do, and I felt a potent conjuration tear reality open not so far away. I fled into caverns unknown only to realise that fact and swiftly collapsed against a wall; silence and contemplation were all that I was left with. I was woefully unequipped and unprepared for anything like this. I was helpless and with nothing save a few medical kits and poultices of the faintest of healing power. There I came to terms with the reality of my situation: that I was alone and powerless in a place I could not possibly escape, with surrounded by monstrosities and terrors hidden in the dark.

There was nothing for it, I must have slipped into a reverie but in time began a silent approach towards whence I came. No movements, no sounds, and every inch forward was trepidation and yet hope for there was no sign of blood or gore either. And then I saw it. A cocoon, white and silken, unmoving, occupying the space Kallian had before. I read the dweomers around me, the portal was Talia’s but not of her own working. She had fled, and left us all behind. In the distance, lying on its back, was one of our two assailants, legs all crumpled into its body, sitting upon a pool of its own gruesome ichor. No sign of the other, and I dared not move into that clearing to find out where it had gone.

I scanned the ceiling, every groove in the dirt and the rock walls as inched forward, until I eventually reached the cocoon. With little else to work with I set my ritual athame upon the silken strands tearing it back with the slightest influx of heat tempered from a cantrip to see Kallian’s pallid visage, her blue lips, and yet as I checked for a pulse, I still felt its beat. Swiftly then I put to work my medicines, ointments, unguents and herbs. The poison seemed paralytic and debilitating, she was unconscious, and her breathing was shallow, but it was enough for me to bring about a resuscitation. Her eyes opened, huzzah, and I swiftly burnt away the rest of the bindings as she came to. Though not an anti-venom, I found an antidote in her bandolier, had her sit up, drink, and as we began to relax; I heard movement from behind.

Shock and stillness.

Then a familiar voice. Talia had returned, seemingly the portal had not whisked her off very far and after aiding with the ministrations with her healing powers she dared to move back into the clearing beyond where the results of her handiwork lay. There was no chittering, no movement, no sudden webbing, it was clear and it seems Sal (or at least his body) was slumped just beyond the corner. It was not for me to see what happened then but Talia worked her more potent powers as she uttered a litany of prayers and though I thought Sal surely dead, it seems his time was not quite done in the Prime Material.

In the aftermath of that sobering encounter, where these fearless champions of war and plunder were forced to contend with humility in what can in no uncertain terms be a defeat came the final and perhaps most important rule of adventuring: Never travel alone underground or without telling someone where you are going. Although I think it applies to travelling anywhere alone not just underground, it is the thought of succumbing to the treacherous nature of this place and never being found, lost and forgotten forever in ignominy (if not simply consumed by monsters), or like what I felt in that moment, alone and powerless, doomed in a dark and unforgiving place with no expectation of aid save perhaps when next some mad band of adventurers dared braved these passages again in search of riches and glory.

But adventurers really are mad. Because after we recuperated, it was settled that we would venture forth as intended – and whilst for me that was quite fine, being unscathed at least physically, I do not think I would feel the same if I suffered as any of the others did. Well, each to their own, and they do worship war, this is their forte, this is what they live for. By such perspective this all makes sense. At least we would make camp first. So we made along the path beyond the dead spider, of the funnel-web variety it seems, to see a wounded one come skittering forth. This time it was made short work of, striking in desperation so, and Sal took out his vengeance upon it, stomping all over its downed carcass.

By this time the company was restored to vigour and though we would encounter a deranged kuo-toa and an odious troll, it was once more very professional work. I see how easy it is for them to be complacent when everything so often goes their way; adventurers truly are the apex predators in the lairs of the monstrous. Anyway, soon after passing through the troll’s lair we reached a defensible cavern suited to setting camp, but given our destination was just on the other side of it we climbed back up onto the surface again. Fresh air made for the finest relief, and so I’d come to Vlasta for the first time, in the strangest of ways. With trade and respite seen to, we met the arcanist Essuh Terik with whom we descended once more into that vast underworld, reaching for the crystal caverns. But that venture and its incredible portents will have to be preserved in memory for now.

What began as an examination of a breach of security and sanctity has revealed itself to be so much more. Not just a serious threat, but an opportunity, a mystery, and as time passes I believe with growing certainty that it has to be the key to finding what I’ve come here for.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Wed Sep 22, 2021 10:15 am

I pen my thoughts now fresh from a discussion with Bay, Bari Bay. Firstly I must remark that I feel my assessment of her has been particularly accurate – to the point I have been able to use my insight to only further my understanding of both her and the political issues of the times here in Sarshel. Firstly, I have confirmed that Talia of War worships Tempus, the Foehammer; this should have been obvious of course, but I did not consider it immediately because I found it a very strange worship for tel’quessir. The rumours of Talia trafficking with daemons – specifically their services in warfare at her behest – can be tracked back to a certain ranger of the Silverwood, according to Bari. This makes it an obvious follow-up as I do know one of these rangers. I have also learned of a certain bias that explains the relationship between Bay and the Stalwart Guard – whilst it not something I wish to become involved in, there are some ramifications here for the politics of Impiltur which do interest me.

It comes back to something Falkas and I discussed: the lack of an adventurer’s guild here in Impiltur or its capital. I should extrapolate on who this man is before I examine the details. Falkas Stone is a man within whom the blood of tel’quessir flows, sufficiently so that he at least some grasp upon the True Tongue. I met him originally during my stay in Filur when I chose to survey the surrounds on my own, finding him on the road west of the town itself. He looked confused and lost, largely because he was, but my conversations since have suggested this to be the case outside of merely geographical issues and well into the personal and spiritual. That is to say, he is lost as a result of having lost much in his life. Despite this, he seems committed to finding himself again and has proven to be a fair companion on the roads. Whilst it is true that during one of our joint ventures, he erred in the execution of one of my fine stratagems due to giving away our position and throwing off our advantage – the element of surprise – he has otherwise shown reliability and contrition for his failings. With the potential to learn and improve and a mind that clearly works to understand the world around him as well as the ability to wield both bow and shortblade he makes for a valuable ally.

So it was that Falkas told me that despite there being any established organisation for adventurers here, that he had experienced what he calls a certain code of honour amongst them. He reflected on his experience where a druid by the name of Caehir, lent him some armour so that he could join a small group of heroes on a mission for Torm. Most importantly though was the reflection that where he was from something such as this act of generosity or benevolence was unheard of, that adventurers would never help anyone outside of their own band as they would be considered rivals. At the time I remarked that the very lack of an organised guild for the adventuring profession might be the reason for this, that due to the lack of competition, the adventurers here find more value in helping each other out – perhaps seeing a little of themselves in others who are just starting out to offer a little something they wished was there for them.

I still stand by the sentiment, however in the realm of politics and governance this is another issue. As a kingdom on the frontier, Impiltur has yet to formalise and appropriately tax the profession of adventuring. The lack of taxation has of course made a guild to support the rights and privileges of the adventuring class completely redundant. But as new powers rise, such as the burgeoning Stalwart Guard, and the established Swordhall of one E. Gensethe, and as each of these parties compete for the same audience or even dominance in their field so too does the potential for political change. Whilst I of course do not intend to get involved in the machinations of B. Bay, and with my doubts that her connections run too deep – in a positive way – with the law, I am certain that this in addition to the murder of crows is the latest big development in the city. One which must be noted in my list of recommendations as part of my report… it will go far in establishing the necessary foundations for my own works.

As for the crows. By my perspective, it began as an easy-to-dismiss quirk exhibited by Sal, who without much explanation made warnings about crows at first sight of the birds. It has since grown into sightings of a murder of crows ranging upwards to the hundredfold if not more. Falkas has also succumbed to some trauma as a result of his experiences which now involve witnessing daemonic possession. I have been able to put together enough of these sightings to triangulate that the source of this paranormal phenomenon arises in north of Impiltur. Perhaps the Uplands. It was difficult getting anything out of Falkas and his nightmare-scourged mind but I have learned enough to identify that an entity calling itself the Corvid King may be involved. I find his fears that spreading this news would lead to further spread of some nightmare caused by crows to be rather foolish and likely a method by which this King of Crows is manipulating its victims to control the spread of his malevolence from the notice of the authorities.

I have otherwise been occupied with compiling my works for the archives which I believe are now ready for submission. The longer I wait, the greater the risks for all involved. I neither seek such a thing upon my conscience nor do I want to unnecessarily delay the next stage of my efforts here.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Thu Oct 21, 2021 10:48 am

There have been significant developments since my last entry. So much so that I shall have to split them across multiple entries, each organised by theme. I find there to be little cause to document the precise date and time of my recordings, though I do admire the tenacity with which my fellow, and quite often specifically human scholars bind themselves to such protocol. It is as if they must document every day and every hour of their life, and how can I blame them? So precious few are they - so lacking in the blessings of the Lifegiver - and so in their place I would no doubt do the same. And in their place, so liable to lose memories in late life, I should want to remember what I once did, or what I once knew, what I once felt… oh, what a horrible thought, to be disconnected from reverie so. But such is life, there is no greater difference between my experience to theirs, than there is theirs to a common house pet. Each lives their own life to their fullest capacity, and it is best I do not dwell upon the plight of the masses, for there are so many plights and in truth, from even my own perspective, so little time.

Of course, I speak only of personal matters. When it comes to matters of history, and great moments in time, the date is of absolute importance; as all things are ordered within the Continuum. And so it is that upon the 1st day of the 10th month in the year 1368 DR (and by the reckoning of the local calendar of these Demonlands, the 1294th year since the dawn of Impiltur), I have obtained the writ of Arcane Practice in the realm, and so too with it the status of intermediary between the governance of Impiltur and the adventuring class. It is a moment in time worthy of acknowledgement, the very beginning of my efforts here in the lands about the Easting Reach – a land that has yet to betray to me the secret of my calling. It is also a key moment from whence I shall take my practice of the Art to the next level – the practical, upon the field, beyond the academies, and to enact change with purpose upon the world that bears me.

So it is that I spoke at last to Merin, of the Stalwart Guard. I was told many things of this bardess, that she was a merchant with a keen eye and silver tongue when it came to matters mercantile, that she was a chronicler for her company, that she was inquisitive and even a bit intrepid. Well, I can say most of those things seem quite apt and true, I should call her very bubbly indeed, in fact I find her to be most pleasant company. We have met several times now, and from the onset we get along splendidly, in fact initially I arranged to acquire some of her spell crystals and instead of an exchange of the common currency we agreed upon a partnership. One of both mutual benefit and positive outcomes:

I shall provide a book, based upon my travels with the Stalwart Guard as both publicity for her company and benefit for the adventuring populace and new arrivals to the realm. I shall further grant her the rights to publish this work through what shall, if all things go according to plan, one day be her very own book shoppe. In return she will be my supplier for the odds and ends of the arcane profession in the place of royalties, and if this goes according to plan, we shall move forward into a much longer partnership in which my future works shall have an outlet through her enterprise (possibly exclusively, at least for some works, though allowances are made for a copy of all my works to be available at the House of Many Tomes, of course and I must be judicious here. Exclusivity has a price.)

On our second meeting, Merin’s enterprising nature seemed to have been paying off. She now has a personal stall in the City Square and all the licenses required of her trade. Yet, it seems her ambitions are not tempered in the slightest either. Her sights are already set upon a storefront, and it’s barely been tenday or two since her permanent stall was erected! Do the Stalwart Guard truly have so much coin to bandy about, are they so certain they can make rent, regularly and in the long-term? Is she really that successful at generating sales? I do wonder, because it seems her scroll sales have not fared very well – admittedly her prices were unapologetically inflated; I’d never pay anything near her asking price for a first circle scroll, but admittedly, I’m not in a rush to complete my tome either. I should perhaps look into reserving some scrolls in the future though – specific formulae are more important than possession of a large stockpile of miscellaneous magic to me.

As I looked to return to my survey of the Realm, with my current binding to Songhall no longer holding me there, was when I was visited by Merin on our third proper meeting. She had loaned me a history book of the region, quite a valuable read which served me quite well upon my visit to Filur – oh and that’s one of the matters I mean to cover, in the next entry perhaps. At this point though, Merin was so forward to outright invite me to join the Stalwart Guard. Now, I hadn’t quite mentioned my most recent development prior to the offer, regarding my new position which came in response to my report to the authorities. And truth be told I was and remain quite concerned by these rumours of Talia conjuring daemons – these are not matters I can ignore, and unfortunately her being tel’quessir, neither helps me, nor her, nor anything at all. In fact, I find the very existence of such rumours to be unpleasant at best… I shall not go into the matter of ancient history, and what came to pass in the time of the Crown Wars, but for what was done back in that day and age, there is all the more reason that we rise above it. Especially in a place like this, here in the heart of the daemonlands.

No, inevitably I cannot be personally associated with the Stalwart Guard, not just because of these ill rumours, but because of my position. As intermediary I must remain unbiased, and not affiliated directly with one adventuring company or another. I must exist as an independent though that does not preclude cooperation or even close association – it does mean formal membership is improbable at best. That is not to say I do not appreciate them, truly I appreciate all of them. Sal and Talia showed me the splendours of places I imagine many who visit or even inhabit these lands shall never see or even know about, and Merin is just the most pleasant companion – though I will say I find this fixation on crossbows a bit peculiar. A crossbow range in one’s bedroom? No, that’s beyond peculiar, that’s mad. Not that I can say such a thing to her face, no it’s too difficult shooting down the ideas of such an intrepid soul, especially when one knows they aren’t going to be actionable. Leave it to the flight of fancy that it is; a bit of harmless daydreaming, really.

Still, it seems both Merin and the Stalwart Guard have little lack of want for ambition, though perhaps their methods are in some want of sense. I’ve advised Merin of as much. Urged her even to consider the Swordhall, and the workings of one E. Genesthe. That there is no true Adventurer’s Guild in all of Impiltur, but that the Swordhall might be the closest thing to it. Yet instead of joining together, it seems they are set upon finding their own way – of carving out their own names and repute. Is this wise? Well, of course not. Does this support the economy? Absolutely. Competition or even conflict between these two factions shall be of value to the government. It will mean a greater breadth of taxation: specifically, instead of just the one institution and its property, there shall be two organisations paying individual allotments to the census office and double the amount of maintenance and employment opportunities for the civilians. However, my concerns are more practical – there is a lack of numbers within the adventuring populace of the realm. There is a severe risk of a new enterprise outside of the Swordhall to flounder and enter debt, or simply fall apart. Of course, this outcome would be greatly in the favour of E. Genesthe.

On the matter of E. Genesthe, I must say I know little of the man, except that he must assuredly be one of equal if not even greater ambition than the Stalwart Guard – or at least one to have realised some part of his ambitions – and whose wealth is entirely due to his adventuring days in and around the Easting Reach. I am further both amused and unable to overlook the fact that there is a chessboard to the rear courtyard of the Swordhall facing out towards Sarshel and the Sea of Fallen Stars itself, arranged in the state of imminent checkmate. It is a statement to my mind as a player of this marvellous game, of one who feels they have won. I recognise strategy when I see it, and I appreciate it too, all things a move upon the Great Chessboard, truly. For it is but a visual representation of the Continuum.

Still, I think a compromise is the only suitable way forward for all parties concerned. It provides the highest chance for the Stalwart Guard to move forward, and perhaps overcome the blemish of ‘Talia the Daemonic Conjurer’, in fact, surely association with E. Genesthe, and through him the war-captain, Lady Rilaunyr of Sune shall help clear the name, provided, of course, innocence in these matters is found and upheld… I shall do my own part to see these matters properly resolved. I shall do this, because, I care.

I suppose that is the reason why I do anything.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Wed Nov 10, 2021 12:54 pm

// Warning: some content within this journal entry may contain spoilers of scripted encounters/lowbie dungeons which may be uncovered by new players as part of their play experience in TER. To assist in preserving the knowledge of such things for you to uncover for yourself in-game, I have made all effort to cover sensitive content with spoiler tags. It is also worth considering that some such documentation is entirely in-character speculation and may have nothing to do with the reality of the situation. But then again, is not our understanding of the world ever only a singular perspective of reality? Rarely is there a singular objective truth behind what is, and what is not, and even so, this state of affairs, these grey areas, only further enable the creative exercise we partake of.

I came to these lands on the counsel that there is a shadow amidst the light which I am to behold, in some form or another. I have not yet determined what I am to do with such a shadow when I encounter it, nor in truth has it been specified what it will be. What I have learned, however, is that there are many shadows in the light here in Impiltur.

As my survey of the realm continues, I have most recently come to learn of the intricacies of the city of Sarshel itself, at least in some part. Travelling with a wandering battle-priest of Torm, known as Hashard Kurant, I sought to assess perhaps the most dynamic yet equally traditional quarter of the city: its Dockyards. Traditional in the sense that in any port city, it is always the dockyards that plays host to the greatest amount of hustle and bustle – activity, energy, noise, and always, oh dear Sehanine, always, the smell. It can’t be escaped, it wasn’t escaped, and I made liberal use of my cantrips to make the place tolerable.

Yet it is indeed a dynamic place. The greatest diversity of individuals may be found here, traders from foreign lands, sailors whose lives are more or less spent at sea, vagrants, paupers, honest (well as honest as you can get them) tradesfolk, artisans, and various merchants along with the usual variety of urchins and of course those provisioners of the services sought by all who seek a respite and distraction from their work. Multiple taverns and inns, including one known as the Two Swans where various mercenaries congregate to offer up their services. A notable place, one that I must keep adrift of as I seek to determine the relationship between the ‘adventurer’ and the ‘mercenary’ and in turn their significance to my new role. Sal suggested a very simple line of delineation between the two: one has established representation (legal and otherwise), the other does not. Amusingly self-concerned, but no less apt.

The residents of the Dockyards seem primarily to be of the working class, who inhabit little rooms within the houses built vertically to host families and occupants upon each level. They string out their clothes above the streets and between their houses, leaving them to dry in the salty breeze. It’s not a pleasant sight to be sure, such simple practicality that it falls upon the uncouth; but it’s much the same as most other human settlements where there is a density of population.

Another thing of note is how, like much of Sarshel, there are modern day ruins to be found amongst it. Abandoned buildings, long dilapidated warehouses, forgotten homes, closed up businesses, and whilst some areas remain well maintained, there are some places that are neither attended, nor even protected by the patrols of the city guard. It is here that I allowed myself to be a touch more intrepid, after all I did have with me a well-armed and protective companion. Indeed of this errant priest of Helm it must be said, that he endures pain and injury as well, if not better, than any Ilmateri; something I’ve seen first-hand from our past travels.

I’d certainly not consider travelling into these places with someone I was not already at least acquainted with – though I find with adventurers, they are at least a straight-forward bunch. Not that I would classify Hashard purely as such. In any case, two things of note were discovered in this place:
  1. Whilst I would dare not even consider attempting any sort of survey of this particular environ, at least not until I can polymorph into something that might make it … well, I don’t know, in some way bearable? But even then, no. No, I just couldn’t. I just wouldn’t. To even think about it is well, nigh unthinkable. I refer to the sewers beneath what might already be a rather filthy place, and even if we are to somehow excuse the inexcusably foul nature of it, there is the very threat of what I have surmised may be found within.
    Spoiler:
    From all assessments, we were able to locate a rather clandestine access point into the sewers via the basement of an abandoned house. The grates were bent and torn by sheer force, and some squatter, vagrant or otherwise victim had met an extremely violent end just above it. This house itself was inhabited by rats, but the reason for this may have been more than just shelter. It was this food, in the form of human cadavers being brought here, I dare to suggest. It wasn’t even the singular corpse. Up on the top floor, within one of the bedrooms, was the – well, I hate to specify such a tragic and uncomely scene – used and thoroughly abused body of courtesan of the evening trade. I could not bare to look much longer than a moment, but it was good I was travelling with a priest who might afford some rites and solace to a most unfortunate soul.

    It was not just these disturbing and violent scenes which lead me in the direction of my suspicions. There was a room next to the defiled bedroom which unlike the rest of this dilapidated and unsightly place was kept extremely well maintained by comparison. Though it was only used in storage, it was untouched by the rats, and it was arranged in a way I might even consider the possibility of calling neat; at least in a practical sense. This leads me to think that everything within this treacherous place was connected and not just random, in fact, it being random becomes so unlikely that it is in fact irrational to consider it as such.

    No, I believe this was all the work of a wererat. What foul monstrosity, wearing the veil of its false-humanity, lured the man in the basement to its den, perhaps to play cards or offer it some ‘deal’ of the unscrupulous sort, only to then transform into its bestial state and slaughter its prey on the spot. I won’t even suggest what was going on in the bedroom – suffice to say, these rats are all in on it. Yes, kin, family, disturbing co-conspirators or at best mindless accessories to the crimes of villainous shapechanger. And who is to say they are not just one and the same, masquerading as ‘innocent’ fauna. Well, that who would of course be my priestly companion, who had to be the realist between us to say it might be a stretch to call rats kin of the beast-man. Either way, it is vital information to consider in circumstances beyond the immediate: rats may be more than they seem. Wererats may walk the streets of the Dockyards – who can say how far the lycanthropy is spread. Certainly not I, so new to this realm.
  2. Within another part of the Dockyards, one might even say in a location diametrically opposite it, assuming one could even assess the layout of this vast area from a topographical view; though this certainly seems a true statement by own calculations. And oh, I do pride myself on my calculations – in fact I’m fairly sure I could prove it on a day I have enough energy to circumnavigate the entire Dockyards, which I might leave to when I have another goose at my disposal. It’ll probably end up being the duck again though.

    Nevertheless, the scene starts out very similarly. A forgotten and abandoned corner of the quarter, far beyond the patrols of the city guard, and even the surrounding area in this case seems to be quiet. Yes, ‘too quiet’ would be a fitting descriptor. So of course, we had to investigate. Is this the life of the adventurer, going into strange places to find strange things, not knowing what or where it might lead? I am not an adventurer, however. I have never been and I shan’t become one now. I remain a scholar, now an established link to the governance of the realm, and in time we shall see how far this link will go. I know for certain that it shall evolve as my survey grows to encompass more and more of the realm. For I shall be, just as I was in this instance, thorough in not just my observations but so too my analyses.
    Spoiler:
    So it was a scene that thankfully began without a corpse. That’s of course, where anything worth being thankful about also came to an end. Violence was evident all over the place. I need not apply any psychometry to feel the very essence of what must have been a terrible shakeup of someone’s family home. Pure vandalism and destruction of property, and on a nearby table blood and what might in any other circumstance be but a tradesman’s tools. Though in this case these items were clearly enslaved by violent and indeed torturous intent.

    Someone’s hand was smashed and cut and that someone was either dragged or attempted to make their escape into the lower levels of this place. All of this without acknowledging that overgrown spiders had since made their home within. Evident as we inevitably would find a cocoon within which someone had been entombed. It is hard to connect a timeline here, at least with just these observations.

    But there was a basement level and it is here we can start to make sense of the place. A somewhat more kempt location, with signs of diversion – a table with cards, drinks near by – and a place of respite, by a campfire. But this was not just a squatter’s domain. This was an organised endeavour of an illicit kind. This I surmise from the very detailed blue prints and plan of development of what looked to be a tunnel. No ordinary tunnel, but a feat of engineering for it seemed to require going beneath the earth. One being monitored and overseen and even confirmed as accessible.

    The spiders though, they seem to be present in a way that suggests welcome with this operation. Perhaps bound as pets or guardians? I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest a ‘spider cult’ as Hashard had though I’d meant. Still, the only other things that get a long with spiders are of course the dhaerow – but no, surely not? No. Can’t be. Can it? I can’t I rule it out, I fear. Especially when it comes to this element of criminality and violence. It could also be the work of a half-drow, or more. I just find it hard to attribute no significance to the presence of these arachnids or to simply pass them off as opportunistic vermin. Especially when it seems there is some synergy here between them and those who have enacted this cover operation, and how the blood trail very much leads to a cocoon as though it was dumped there by something larger than the arachnids we encountered. Carried or dragged. Of course, they could have just moved in afterwards and these could be the remains of the tunnellers too.

    There was nothing for it. I told my companion of how I began my survey. “Into the breach,” for indeed that is what I claimed as I did just that. Went into the breach, once again. The tunnel was wet, of course. It was after all running beneath the Easting Reach. No bearing as to where or how it was getting there, and with certainty of the precarious nature of traversing such a place – leaking as it was. Still the construction was not that of a simpleton, it was as sturdy given the circumstances, as the work of any dwarf. I couldn’t quite know where it would lead but it did return to the surface. It seemed into another basement somewhere.

    It turned out to be an abandoned house full of all sorts of items, boxes, crates and various things one might in some way or form call cargo or goods for trade or sale. That, or a hoarder’s den, but there was a note. Three names have come up. “Pzhemislav”, “R”, and “Urosh.” R may or may not be a female, dependent on the person needing the crates being the same person who’s due the red crate, and if that’s true, she may have also organised or personally done ‘something’ to Urosh, potentially in an unsavoury or permanent fashion. A fourth individual who seems not to be completely literate (or employs a scribe who still needs a few spelling and grammar lessons) is implicated as writing to Pzhemislav who in turn seems to be in charge of whatever smuggling operation is taking place here. And that’s just it: smuggling. That’s the crime, a highly organised operation I am coming to see, taking place all around and across the Easting Reach.

    Indeed, it's not the first of smugglers I’ve seen in this land. In fact we encountered an operation with Hashard and some others not so long ago, off towards Dilpur. What’s worse is this may be connected to what I’ve witnessed first-hand alongside Silvyna. But that is another story and one I must properly reflect on alongside these more recent revelations. It doesn’t end here either. We found a key held by someone who had succumbed to the arachnids. Now this was the first time (potentially) that I could say these spiderlings were not in cahoots with these smugglers. That is assuming the human who held the key was not a farmer who stumbled into their basement and met an untimely end. This time evidence points against that possibility especially since I was curious enough to try it upon the doors nearby.

    As per the note, it seemed that these smugglers were attempting to conduct their illegal activities beneath the notice of the local farmers. They were not however beyond interrogating (or worse) anyone they might catch at night – no doubt a ‘no-witnesses’ policy. Another interpretation of this note however suggests there may be two different operations – that those leaving the barn (and yes, that’s where I tried the key) are not related to those who make use of the secret tunnel network between what I come now to understand is the farms North-West of Sarshel and the Dockyards of the city.

    What we saw in the barn was beyond our capacity to deal with. A hidden trapdoor leading lower into a tunnel that led to water. A sub-terranean access-point into the greater Easting Reach. The patrol itself wasn’t able to detect us, but with being a pair of footsteps alongside the sound of more activity deeper within was enough to suggest an immediate retreat.
This is not something I can report on, not immediately. If these operations are taking place, it is entirely possible, that once again, there is some corruption within Sarshel’s governance and or military wing. If not, there is either some level of incompetence, or quite simply, the guard are spread too thin and priority for oversight of the very capital is lowered in favour of reinforcing the riskier locales. It might even be the assumption of many, that all is as it should be and none are the wiser as to what occurs beneath their noses, or even their feet. For now it is too difficult to tell, and with my influence at such a fragile state I am wise to add this knowledge to my repertoire.

I have also positioned sentinels. Creatures who will blend in amongst their kin to report back any new developments in these locations. I cannot overly invest in any of this. My work is expansive, and I have every intent of keeping to my strengths. Knowledge and counsel, awareness and understanding, a holistic view, which must as ever allow for a degree of detachment. We cannot fight all the battles of this world. At least I can’t. As I told Hashard: know thyself, know thy enemy, and know thy battlefield. I know not nearly enough of either the enemy, or the battlefield. Too little to act and though my first act has borne great fruit, it was only through exercising caution and carefully assessing the possibilities.

Unrelated. I still need to follow up on the Loremaster’s tip. The Amaunatori have secrets to share. Perhaps in the same vein I should see what the Lathanderites keep in the shadows of their own light.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Fri Nov 26, 2021 8:25 am

It has been over a year since I first met Tindra Amalle, who then introduced herself to me as Moonvine, Goblin tracker of Sehanine Moonbow. It was a name I now learn was adopted when she joined the family of Antria Lasan, the Nightwine of the Vast. In truth, the former I do not know very well at all – for I have shared with her only two interactions in almost as many years. The latter I have spent more time with, learnt more of, understood more of. Yet not as much as I should like. She speaks to me of a Glade of the People, and that it was her duty to lead those of the People who come visit this land into it, to share with them the existence of this sanctuary. Only now, after so long – indeed she has neglected her duty but at least she acknowledges this trespass. It is a tradition she must return to if she is to achieve what she now presents as a hope, a dream, and a plan to establish a place for the People in the realm.

However, the way things began when I presented them with the Registration, has showcased the wishy-washy inappropriateness of those of the tue-tel’quessir to be true representatives of the People. There is a decided lack of commitment, like children they expect to achieve their goals in a couple years and to somehow expect it not all to fall apart despite practically abandoning what they began. No, no, no. It matters little how long the idea has been in one’s mind if there is no work or effort made towards achieving it. To propose a thing as if it will live up to all its claims and yet to lack a consensus of those whom it is being pursued for? To lack their input. There is in fact, a hint of duplicity here as well, however subconscious, or perhaps unrealised it may be.

Where is the groundwork for a well laid plan? Where are the contingencies for guiding it after it is established? Who are the beneficiaries, the co-contributors, the fellows joined together to see such an ambitious outcome achieved? I shake my head. At something presented as a plan and outcome for all the People, yet not known by all of the People – conducted in private and with the intent of singular ownership. And the audacity to suggest otherwise. No, there is no evidence of it. An enclave of the People, here in Sarshel, or its surrounds? If it is this ludicrous to me, it will be a thousandfold more so for the rest of the governance.

And of course, when it does not go to plan, we simply state it was always the plan – yes, a diversion because asking for something absurd will lead to a lesser request to be given greater consideration instead. Whilst this tactic is of course a valid method of testing boundaries and acquiring something where one usually deserves nothing (I fear it is almost always the method of the manipulator, those of guile and cunning, and others who seek to exploit something or someone), I cannot see it as working when there are strictures and requirements set in stone. This is not a matter of convincing the ill-informed, or those outside of formal codes of law – indeed, I find the bureaucracy of Impiltur to be quite impressive. In all my visitations, it may well be the strictest nation terms of rules and regulations although without the standard hierarchies which come with them as it is so in places such as Athkatla. Perhaps an outcome of necessity living amidst the darkness of both the past and all of that which yet cloys about them.

Though it must be said that despite the existence of strong laws and well documented governance procedures, there is much that is permitted to occur as a result of the military being stretched thin and traditional enforcement of these codes as such is not up to standard. It is also true that the stricter a nation is in its laws and restrictions, the greater shall be the opportunities for those who would subvert them to bring to the thirsty, the wicked, and the poor, those things which are forbidden and otherwise denied to them. It explains much of the smuggler trouble plaguing the city and why there is so much distrust of the foreigner instead of welcome of their potential contributions to the realm. Quite simply put, there was not a proper method to permit these visitors – tourists as Lord Silaunbrar aptly enough puts it – to give back from that which they take. We shall see this changed for the better. I take it upon myself for the work that is to be done and the faith the Council has put within me to make it so.

At the end of an extended discussion with my friends of the Nightwine, I believe we did come to an understanding as well as the advancement of understanding, not just between us, but for the benefit of what I think is simply best referred to as the Census itself. I can understand the distaste of being relegated to the title of ‘adventurer’, I can also appreciate not wishing to be bound to codes and laws in the preference of freedom. It is only that misunderstandings had to be corrected and these are nothing less and nothing more than the growing pains of change. Though in many respects very little changes – the laws were always in place, it was their adherence which had fallen out of value and respect amongst what I shall at least once more refer to as the adventuring populace. It is as I told the forthright fellow named Leopold, none of this comes without basis, I have seen much to deem it necessary.

All in all, I shall operate under the goodwill established between us and my judgements are my own, to contemplate and adjust as we all progress in that which we do here amongst the Easting Reach. When it comes to the People, I shall need see a lot more before I believe in the mission that is spoken of. The theatre is itself something that may be achieved and will make for a good test of intent and capability. Though when it comes to the People, my thoughts do turn to the one who shares with me even closer origins.

Silvyna, of House Faerfyn. The journey we have shared so far has been one of great exchanges. When it began with our meeting within the corridors of the House of Many Tomes, I thought her to be a fellow arcanist. That through her offer of knowledge for knowledge I should reciprocate by one day inscribing her arcane formulae I have myself developed and mastered and that we may form this relationship of cultivating each other’s Art that it may be the best that it can be. Of course, with what I now know, that will be a largely impossible arrangement for the foreseeable future – because her pursuits are quite novel and detached from the Weave of Magic. Yet I do not think an exchange and to see each other further along our individual paths of mastery is made moot.

What Silvyna practices, to my own mind is as beautiful and noble as the Art I pursue and wield. It is a thing that requires a keen focus, and an iron will and yet comes with its own obstacles for being such an elusive artform. The Hidden Art. It is a beautiful thing, a rare thing, something which requires a dedication beyond any sorcery purely derived of one’s ancestry alone, a commitment as strong as that of wizardry. Which makes me wonder why her family or others would look down upon it and why she would feel outcast and not up to the expectations placed upon her. It also explains her presence here. The House of Many Tomes is not so far from where once Jhaamdath laid…

But that is another story, a piece of history I shall perhaps one day have to share with her, when the time and place is right. It is also not an entirely pleasant tale. Though it is worth noting that the ruthlessness of those who put above all else expansion was the blindness and single-mindedness that is the inherent weakness of Man – they forgot that the expansion of the mind is alone superior to that of other forms. So they were lost, to time itself. To those who remember what is most important.

Over the course of our conversations and even our travels – for it was Silvyna who first showed to me hints of the underworld within the city itself – I think we have found the way we might aid each other. It will be to work together, for this allows us each to practice our Art, to coordinate, to synergise, and together be more than the sum of our individual powers. I have spoken to Kallian of this as well, upon that fateful eve upon the rooftops. This is how tel’Quessir should operate – first is the union of intents and interests, of agreements and accords amongst our own, only after that do we make such grand gestures as these notions of enclaves and estates. Everything has an order, and perhaps in time I shall demonstrate this to those who are younger, if not of seasons, then at least of mind. Though I do suppose few can lay claim to the great Starlight that guides me… blessed by and of the Continuum.

It is the old adage. A house united shall not fall, a house divided cannot stand. If I do not see any notion of community, if I do not see the fostering of our own, what good is having property of any kind? No, so fundamentally wrong, and why I had to call it a private enterprise. To call it what it is, though it attempts to masquerade as that which it is not. It is why I so greatly appreciate this gesture Silvyna made, she saw and heard of my post, before it was formalised and her first act was to bestow upon me a tremendous boon. I was impressed in more ways than I could possibly show when I received it, I had more to say than I possibly could in that moment within the courtyard behind the Sailor’s Star. As the stars twinkled down upon us, somewhere in the heavens there was a beautiful smile painted upon all the visage of tel’Seldarine.

Indeed, I carry now with me a most precious artefact. Though dwindled and by the witness of any who should carefully behold it, it is but a husk. Yet its decrepit state belies the wisdom demonstrated by House Faerfyn which will bear fruit for many an age to come, I am certain. The recognition of strengths within one another, met with support, and with weaknesses countered with the strengths of ones own. This is what will see us not merely prevail but reach the greatest heights we are capable of. In my hands, I hold promise itself. Such potential transcends any mere arcane power, such uncertainty around what it might one day become presents itself as an ever-enticing mystery. And its ownership shall be beyond merely my hands, as its origins bespeak a deeper, older bond.

It is only a matter of time. And it is time which will allow all that we have sown to grow and flourish. This is the lesson I must teach, by example.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Wed Dec 15, 2021 7:11 am

Within human cultures, the public rarely – if ever – understand what is best for them. They are always too focused on themselves and their own petty concerns to see the big picture. That is not to say individual interests should not be considered, they always should. It does however mean that as a general rule one can expect to encounter all manner of noise when it comes to implementing even the best-informed edicts. The good thing about Impiltur, and what I enjoy of it, is that the populace is both law-abiding and gods-fearing and so it is not the civilian or the citizen who takes issue to the commandments of Church and State and so law and order.

No, in Impiltur, it is the foreigner, the visitor, the outsider who takes issue with even merely being reminded that there are laws they were flaunting – and of course, their first action is to further flaunt it, demonstrating their misbegotten sense of entitlement. For my part, I can only be amused, as it is not my hand that shall see them disciplined. I am merely the messenger, reminding them all of an inconvenient truth, as Silvyna puts it. I do not mind the children playing at their own perceived little victories, though should I see a lack of respect that is repeated, there are measures at my disposal to attend to such disrespect. The likes of which I am not particularly fond of applying, but I shall, if I must – for the good of all.

Nomenclature has proven to be the most troubling so far as public perception goes. Whilst I certainly agree that the term, hobby, and general occupation of ‘adventurer’ has been given hyperfocus as a result of current affairs it is purely a matter of semantics. And anyone who argues purely on semantics stands on very poor ground as far as having any substance behind their argument is concerned. I find it highly irrelevant – all of these protests to the use of an umbrella term – however, I can agree that use of such terms may be best suited to internal discussion within the governance. Too many of those who fall under the jurisdiction of this edict are simply seeking to cajole themselves out of it, and those who take offense do so on a pointless basis. Whilst registration will one day be enforced with greater consequences, when it comes to being a party to these discussions I cannot truly complain, as it is what I have volunteered myself for.

So it is that I have seen to the necessary alterations in order to present registration in a more palatable and properly generalised way. Whilst I find the arguments I’ve had regarding the matter quite banal and hardly worthy of my time, I understand it comes from a clash of perception – of what one believes they are, and what one actually is under the eyes of the law or otherwise what one must comply with or voluntarily oblige for the benefit of the realm – and I am certain, for oneself; as one will find to be the case, in time, to be the benefit of early adoption.

Aside from the Nightwines, it was a woman who goes by the name of Fenneken, who raised protest. It seemed very likely that she had already discussed the matter with the former as well, given how she presented herself and how similar her concerns were; a disturbing amplification of prejudices, that. In any other situation I think I could have properly enjoyed her company but given as I was to the formality of my station, despite the unorthodox location, it was somewhat more grey of an exchange. I learnt a lot of the individual, reminiscent, mildly, of another of her kind I’ve met in these parts – Nephtiri – in the sense that there are unique circumstances surrounding the birth of these… beings. In each case, it is hardship that seems to bind these individuals but the differences between them, I think, are equally stark.

Moving ahead, I shall need a dedicated scribe and or clerk to attend to the more everday enquiries and at some point, registration itself. The scholar, Richart Carr, has volunteered his services, though I think he might be best suited to matters outside of the office. Amira has also shown both interest and initiative in regard to matters of enforcement for the Office of Public Affairs. It comes after her compliance with not just the Archaeological License but the Arms License as well. I have taken her on as a trial, given such proactivity and I think having such an armed and skilled presence shall prove invaluable when it comes to ensuring the gravity of one’s work is preserved. As the old adage goes, ‘Si vis pacem, para bellum.’

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Fri Dec 17, 2021 9:19 am

One day closer.

One day closer to the end of the world. That is how it is for mortal life, by some perspectives. And soon, as we near the end of this year, the Jergali in all of their fascinating and ever-industrious ways, shall upon the final day of the month celebrate an entire year closer towards the end they so diligently work to document with all the minutiae that concerns their purview of death.

A curious way to begin an entry, hm? It is very fitting, I assure, given not just the time but my most recent discourse. It was with a man who always refers to himself in the third person, one Mister Rodion. As I saw to his formal registration, at last, I saw clearly how that scrunched up, crude and terribly distasteful excuse for a ‘letter’ the clerk processed was connected to this somewhat eccentric warrior of the Uthgardt tribes. As an aside, I must comment how perfectly my role as Chancellor has aligned with assessing and surveying the realm – registration is the ideal evolution of my intent to connect the names and faces of those who eke out their existence here, and to identify their abilities and potential, all to advance the original mission. Now one that is aligned with governance.

Back to this Rodion, son of Jurg, however- one of the most iconic aspects to this individual is his philosophical outlook. Specifically, he sees the world through the lens of the smart, and the dead – which is to say, all who are not smart, are one way or another dead. I confess I find a touch of poetry to this quaint take on life – because here is a man who in all respects based upon his physicality (a certain brutish appearance afforded by his near-monstrous size), mannerisms (crude and barbaric at times, yet with a strange charm one might allot to one who seeks to emulate polite society but is inherently outside of it), and way of life (that of the mercenary) which one would consider unrefined yet is possessed of a certain wisdom that arises purely out of having the correct mindset. He may not have the words to express himself as well as some, yet I find he does not need it, to properly communicate and convey his beliefs. I think his fellows may have misjudged his potential to represent their fledgling company, these to-be Crimson Swords of Impiltur. Because all I see is raw potential – yes, that is after all what an unrefined thing is. Full of potential.

So it was that in his own manner, he posed a question laden with meaning and intent. He asked me, this man once of the frigid wastes, how it might be that one could become an elf. Tel’Quessir that is. Is this not its own genius, or am I allowing myself to overly indulge in the implications? Either way, it is truly a worthy question. One I provided both a short and then somewhat veiled longer answer to. The short of it is, one is simply born into this world as tel’Quessir. But there is a more protracted answer. Give me someone like Nephtiri, and I could give you one of the People, because there is the potential within the blood, the spirit, the soul, and in the mind. Outside of such connections, I would theorise only a couple other potential mechanisms. Neither of which I shall elaborate upon. Outside of that, the only recourse is ascension.

Jurgsson knew of a dark path to longevity. Though he knew not the specifics such a thing entailed. I was very quick and effective in demonstrating to him the folly of that pursuit, however. How terribly amusing it was, and yet no less apt then, when he in turn declared that this path, that of undeath and lichdom, was that of the post-stupid. After all, death is stupidity within the framework of this ideology. I think I shall have to document it in fact, for the archives. It’s so remarkable that I can’t say I’ve seen it espoused by any other being, at least not in this manner before. Though I made mention of the ideology of Natural Selection, and the Survival of the Fittest, with which it shares a strong foundation.

So in the end, I left him with the revelation of ascension. This, without any specifics. There are many paths to follow, but I wonder if this individual is truly capable of any of them. Has he sufficiently conformed to this way of life with dedication to, in all things, being smart, and so alive? It is too early for me to say for certain. Though what I can say is that he has demonstrated potential. Presuming he is somewhere in his third decade, he may be near the halflife of his kind, and I think that means he is at a turning point. For one, he must be commended in recognising intelligence and superior traits in others – and two, for knowing of his own shortcomings and being unafraid of having them addressed.

So many humans have ascended over the centuries – most recently after the Time of Troubles, the City of the Dead is said to have found a new custodian, the once mortal Kelemvor, and in a flip onto the other side of the coin, dark rituals have seen another mortal arise as a new power standing in stark opposition to the aforementioned cosmic principle of death. This must not be mistaken as a human phenomenon, however. The deities of the world are the way they are as a product of the greatest population of souls who inhabit it at any given point in time. This so happens to be, at this time, a world so full of humanity and so, many of the gods, as aspects, attend to the visage of this lowest common denominator. That does not ascribe any ownership between these gods and the populace which most closely associates with them, or vice versa. The divine powers are mutable, that which lays claim to a portfolio is but a persona – not its true and immutable form.

Therein lies the rub. Tel’Quessir are inherently joined with divinity, we are as aspects of the divine forebears. And it is through this bond we enjoy longevity. It also highlights Karsus’s Folly – for there was never an issue with a new image to take up the portfolio of the Weave of Magic, there was only the lack of harmony and that of understanding. The utter misinformed approach, and that very instant of cataclysm – a single moment of divine absence, incurred by the hubris of one who thought they knew all (but of course, knew not). These truths are clarified, once again, with the rise of the once mortal Midnight and beyond that, the Chosen. Perhaps a good analogy is that tel’Quessir are to tel’Seldarine, as the Chosen are to their gods – we have an inherently stronger bond and so enjoy a greater harmony, even equality, with the divine power that is our source.

Though as I ponder upon all of this, I realise there is another who does not truly know what it means to be tel’Quessir. So long has she been divorced from it, that she has forgotten. It seems I shall yet make someone an elf, after all.

Aethereal
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Re: Guided by Starlight - Memoirs of Eldaereth Sharantar

Postby Aethereal » Tue Jan 11, 2022 6:50 pm

Taxes, licensing, tributes, tithes, and fees. These were not my charge, and they remain not my charge, yet I have taken up enough of my time in enforcing them for the realm. And for what? Not even a mention of these legalities arose at the trial of the Stalwart Guard – despite the presence of the public. No mention of the fees and penalties involved in the operation of an unregistered adventuring company and the lack of various licenses. Though one could look at the prosecutor, Nelra, and see it as the result of her unorthodox approach – one which I believe has been for the better, for good or ill, for the alternative would have been the death sentence for both of my original guides to the dangers of the locales and wilds of the realm. Of course, it could not be approach alone responsible for this neglect, it was no doubt these matters of bureaucracy were greatly overshadowed by far greater concerns.

Collusion with this ‘Lazarus’ the Crow King. That was news to me – the pair thought they could keep such things to themselves, hidden away, as if it would be safe and secure, and that as a result it was for the best for the realm? Hmph; this is the very attitude that I have opposed – how many have come to walk this land before me, and how few have ever reported anything? For too long have they all walked as unthinking beings, unaware of the impact they have on the world around them – but this, this was different. Sal and Talia of all people believed themselves beyond corruption, able to resist the influence of darker powers despite – regardless of the circumstances – serving a treacherous entity? Talia’s soul was already marked by darkness for her service to a dark and moreover n'tel'quess deity who granted her license to call upon demons and she herself willingly chose to do so, for power.

Power is never a worthy pursuit. Power is only a means to an end, and it comes in many forms – the ones we pick and moreover the ones we reject are what define us. Was Talia guided by good intentions, did she truly believe in her mission to empower and protect *tel’quessir* in the realm and elsewhere, was she good-hearted? Even if the answer is yes to all of those and I’d truly believe it is so - though perhaps without a strong basis as I did not know her for that long - it was all thrown away when she chose to embrace dark powers to her own benefit. This is corruption. A taint that has inevitably been cleansed from the realm – alas, another lost opportunity. Off they go to Sembia, and I cannot imagine they will find any fewer temptations towards their wayward methods there. If nothing else, they have strong connections to fall back upon since their successful contract involving the Remorhaz originating from that nation.


Taxes, licensing, tributes, tithes, and fees. The ability to enforce these things is a power of its own. It is not a dark power – well, it amuses me to remark that it might be considered such depending on who is asked – yet it is one I possess. It is the fruit of my efforts to bring enlightenment to this realm – and though most recently I do believe I used it as a way to put a gutter-mouthed dwarf in his place it was all within the strictures of governance and the benefit of the realm. It is this sense of impartiality that is required to do what is right – and with a plan in the long-term. The dwarf after all will go and tell his clan, and surely, he will be schooled upon the matter, despite his utter lack of manners. Then I shall show him the way to my first survey – the new traderoute his people may gain access to in Songhall, thereby improving relations and fortifications: a win for all involved. Everything is calculated and accounted for – is that what Talia and Sal thought when they chose to serve a demonic entity?

I’m sure they did. But unlike me, they lacked a grasp of the bigger picture. Only a fool ever thinks they can come out of dealings with the Abyss unscathed or unchanged. Sal cannot even ward his own mind, and Talia already serves a reckless power outside of blessed tel’Seldarine. The difference between playing politics and utilising the benefices of one’s own station versus trafficking with dark powers and resorting to worship of chaotic and devious powers is of course incomparable – and that’s my point. I will do what needs to be done, but with integrity, with knowledge and understanding above all else.

I feel it is a tried and overdone notion, but I cannot be thorough without mentioning some of the concerns they may have had in reporting their situation – the same that I did, of course, which I considered carefully before moving forward with even the Loremaster, an Oghman of all things – the sort of folk who are amongst the most transparent of all in their desire to share knowledge. Yet I can dismiss this notion immediately on the grounds that Talia and Sal chose not to even tell me of the situation they had gotten into. A lorekeeper should surely be the first port of call when one seeks counsel and advise – this is not even a personal concern, I am hardly offended by their choice to never inform me, merely disappointed. Not for myself, but for them. Alas, alas.

So, with the trial finally out of the way, and with results I am not surprised by yet no less disappointed by – wouldn’t it have been nice if the rumours of demon summoning had no real basis and moreover collusion with dark powers was never their reality? - I must continue my work without the Stalwart Guard. A bit of a shame, really. They had potential, they did. So now I turn my eyes to the Swordhall proper. It is time to make E. Genesthe live up to his promises, on that beautiful seaside manse and military compound he’s convinced the governance to be of mutual benefit. Pending as it is such return of benefit to the Crown; something that I shall rectify.

Sal has left a most impressive charter as well. And now without competition between Swordhall and The Stalwart Guard, there is really only one way forward for the adventurers of this realm and other associated visitors and guests. Meanwhile, I shall take my survey towards greater arcane pursuits. The ley lines of this region must be traced. Something which lies outside the jurisdiction of the Warwands – something beyond the laws and confines of mortal man. An ancient power with ties to nature and the origin of the world – and its links to other worlds…


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