Category Archives: Book

a set of memiors

Oh, how I miss the comforts of Neriak. I should have stayed in the academy, as deplorable as that prospect was. At least there I had some entertainment after listening to those idiots drone on about their useless theories – now I just have this useless cell to rot in. My only joy here is the wails of the other prisoners bemoaning their fates. Beautifully pathetic.

Well, now I have a cell mate. He is gruff and smells like he has been drug through a horse’s filthy corral. And the noise… he talks about himself non-stop. He’s over there talking right now, clearly aware that I am not paying attention, just rambling on and on. Every word crawls up my spine like a venomous widow looking to deliver a fatal bite. I saw the guards smile when they tossed him in here – they knew what they were doing. Commendable.

Today the idiots said something that was actually interesting. Apparently he is rich – even richer than the vapid nobles that fill the upper floors. I am suspect, but in his drunken stupors, the fool tells me intricate details about where the stash is, what is in it, what he is planning to do with it… unless he is an amazingly imaginative storyteller, there’s probably something to this. But where does he keep getting this alcohol? His breath would offend Bertoxxulous.

Well there are some advantages to having this cell mate. He has been able to make a small hole in the back of the room, and has done so without the guards noticing. Dwarven mastery over stone is fascinating, if generally useless in most circumstances. We’re going to make our way out of here tonight, and head out into the pass. He claims to know the way, but I question if he even knows his way out of his bed. I guess we’ll see.

I think these years in confinement have messed with my ability to properly reason. I should have known better than to listen to that fool. He made a ridiculous hat from candles to help him see better in the dank passageway we were crawling through, but it didn’t help him see the massive hole he fell into. Now he has been captured by goblins, and I am stuck here in a narrow passageway with no idea where to go. I thought dwarves can see in the dark. What was he even doing?

This just took a turn for the bizarre. The goblins are actually rather interesting to observe – they relish in the pain of others, and after all the time listening to the idiot ramble on, I was going to enjoy watching them pick him apart. But htey didn’t do that at all. When they carted him away, they set him up on a pile of rocks like a throne. I have no idea what they are thinking, but over the past few days, they have brought him offerings of food and trinkets, and it looks like they found his treasure for him in the hills. I’m perplexed, but must admit I am curious.

I approached him last night, and he was glad to see me. I’ve spent the past few hours talking to him, and he is enjoying his newfound power. Still, this is a situation I can turn to my advantage, I believe. I pointed out to him that he doesn’t have to be content being served in the mines. That the Keep above us was ripe for the taking, and that he had an army. He spouted off some nonsense about divine providence and authority or something – I think some of this has gone to his head. But he likes the idea, which could be very interesting if this goes well.

Well, well! If you’ve never seen goblins whipped into a religious frenzy, it is truly an interesting sight to behold. Still, they performed quite effectively, and the lower parts of the Keep are ours. My partner has his riches, the goblins have their god, and I have a place to entertain myself. I could get used to this. I think i’ll start with those pathetic prisoners from the other cells. Their cries are quite lovely indeed.


Destroyers Folly

This book is titled “Destroyer’s Folly”. It is an old song transcribed onto the pages.
It’s structure is familiar with elven poetry, so it wouldn’t be too much to assume that this song goes back thousands of years.
The following song was taught to me by my grandmother.
She tells me that was sung to her by her own grandmother.
I am recording it here for my own granddaughter.

“When the sun was high in the sky,
And the winds blew gently in the wind,
The Destroyer would come to the land,
And spread his hatred and sin.”

“From high in the mountains he would fly,
And rain unholy fire from the sky,
Taking his copper bride,
And letting loose his pride”

“His set forth his name on a plate and a prayer,
And ordered his flock to sow despair.
Seeking the heat of the heart and the cold of the fair,
His children were to seek out their lair.”

“Destroyer, Destroyer, you came for blood,
Destroyer, Destroyer, your mind did flood,
Betrayer, Betrayer, you removed your ring,
Betrayer, Betrayer, your heat did sing.”

“The broodlings of carnage and lust,
They sang your name as Terrinax.
The broodlings of pain and untrust,
They sang your name as Master.”

“Wielding his leash and letting them loose,
The Destroyer sent forward his brood,
To open their hearts and to set them free,
The two lovers of Fire and Ice reunited.”

“But a hero would come from the light of day,
To save our forests and towns.
Wielding a blade to strike down the Drakota,
The hero would say the Destroyer.”

“The broodlings, bereft of their Harness,
Ravaged the lands, winds, and sea.
Death and destruction from their unholy mouths,
We prayed for salvation to set us free.”

“The unbroken Ring came to offer us solace,
reigning in the maddened broodlings.
Taking the Drakota back to the desolate lands of their birth,
they calmed the wildfire with cooling ice.”

The Monsters

This book is titled “The Monsters – by Maria Scalius”. It is a fictional account of a young couple and how they found shelter for the night in the Nektulos Forest.
It was a dark and stormy night. A young couple, having been lost for days in the Nektulos forest, now sought shelter from the rain. As they aimlessly wandered, a bolt of lighting struck the earth in a nearby valley. As they glanced over at the flash, they saw their only hope for shelter – a castle.

As the young couple quickly approached the castle, they were relieved to see candlelights in the windows. They banged on the front door and were shortly greeted by the butler. The couple was invited inside at once and told they could stay there for the night, only as long as the master of the castle gave his permission.

The young couple was led to what appeared to be a workshop of sorts and told to wait there. All manner of strange instruments lined the shelves of the workshop, which were all arranged around what appeared to be two coffins. The young man walked up to one of the caskets, fully intent on peering inside. At that moment, a shadow stretched out from the doorway

The shadow belonged to an old man who introduced himself as Lord Everling, owner of the castle. He told them they were welcome to stay the night if they so desired. He apologized in advance, however, for any noise that might disturb their rest. He explained that tonight he would finally complete his greatest creations to date.

The young couple expressed interest in his creation. Everling invited them to watch its completion, but asked them to stay out of the way. He then called in his assistants who gathered around the coffins. All of the women were of varying ages, from little girl to young woman, yet they all shared the same face. Everling introduced them one by one, explaining they were his daughters.

For the next several hours, the couple watched as Everling, assisted by his daughters, adjusted the various instruments around the workshops. When he was done, the hush in the room was deafing. A moment later, a bolt of lightning coursed down a rod, straight into the caskets. Lord Everling stepped over to the coffins and removed the lids, smiling proudly.

Inside the coffins were nothing more than dolls, just like a child would own. Everling asked the couple what they thought, and confused, they just nodded and congratulated him on his… creations. He told them he was overjoyed that they liked the dolls. He pointed out that the hour was late and that they should all retire for the night.

The young couple were both led to their bedchambers by the littlest daughter. The child told them that they may want to consider finding somewhere else to sleep for the night, for her father wasn’t feeling well. Having seen how proud the man was of his dolls, they knew what she meant. But they also knew the dangers of the forest as well. They would take their chances this one time.

The storm broke with the dawn, and the young couple awoke. They had never felt better in their short lives. They thanked Lord Everling for everything he did for them and left. They trekked through the Nektulos forest, following a direct path straight to Freeport. They made it safely to the city, and have led ordinary lives there to this day. Well, ordinary save for one minor detail.

The couple has a reputation for purchasing clothing that are many sizes too small and even sometimes forgetting their own names. In addition to that, they have been reported to have an odd look in their eyes whenever they are in the company of small children. When asked what they’re thinking, they just smile and say “I remember when I that small.” THE END

Zeke Two Tone’s Diary

The pages are torn and difficult to decipher, but this appears to be Zeke Two Tone’s diary. Reading it might help Zeke get back his memory.

Day 28 – I have circled all of Norrath it seems, trying to find what happened to the Two Tone family. Am I really the last Two Tone? My forebears came from Nektulos Forest, but there is no one there now who remembers us.

Day 36 – Perhaps I should not have taken passage aboard that creaky freighter after all. It went aground in waters so still I could see my own reflection! There were few other survivors, the ship sank so quickly. Fortunately I had this journal in my pocket. My harp is damaged, but at least I have it as well.

Day 59 – Cannot find water. The shimmering spring I straggled to with the others is poison. Must find shelter. They came at night and took some of the men but I hid from them. What foul purpose these creatures may have, I do not know. I do not know.

Day 108 – My companions and I were rescued by the djinn, who brought us to their shining city in the sky! And yet, my heart fills with foreboding. I lacked nothing, until I asked for my harp. The response was dreadful. They separated me from the others. I am lost, in these dark caverns that hang beneath the beautiful citadel of the djinn. Are all things of beauty so corrupt? Someone comes.

Zek Creature Catalog

by Pearl Honeywine

While many areas experienced changes during the Rending, the changes brought to the Jaggedpine Forest are devastating in that they are not due to the cataclysms that reshaped Norrath. Rather, orcs staked their claim to the region and named in Zek. We call it the Orcish Wastes.

Zek lies to the north of Karan across the Coldwind Coast and over the Sea of Crossed Swords. Not a large land mass, it is relatively close to the Antonican shores although the waters between them are deep and treacherous.

The barren slopes of Zek do not provide much in the way of a windbreak, therefore even a gentle breeze can turn into a hearty windstorm as it channels through the hills. Due to the lack of significant shade, the surface reflects back sunlight and keeps the region warm. The mines are much cooler as they are deep beneath the surface.

The Deathfist orcs have cleared most of the area, leaving only stumps and deadwood as indication that the Jaggedpine Forest ever existed. While pockets of trees remain, many of them are thin and scraggly. Grass grows in some areas, but is often trampled and flattened. There are no known flowering plants in the realm.

As the guards stationed at this outpost claim, you cannot throw a copper without hitting an orc. They are not the only creatures which make traveling through Zek a hazardous journey, though. One must also keep an eye out for the various lions and the treants. The latter do not hesitate to attack first and questions later.

Zatirre’s First Zombie

Zombies are reanimated dead creatures. After death, anything can be turned into a zombie. What follows is the tale of a necromancer’s experiment.
“Zatirre’s First Zombie” by Zatirre, Lord of the Zombies — Taken from the memoirs of a necromancer who travelled through the Commonlands to demonstrate his zombie creation process.

They said it could not be done, this raising of the dead to do the work of the living. They said it was folly to attempt such a thing. Yet I, Zatirre, have done just such a thing and have lived to tell the tale. Be forewarned — this is not the tale with which to put the children to sleep!

Animating the dead requires much concentration, luck and intelligence. Fortunately, I am blessed with an abundance of these virtues for I am Zatirre! After studying remnants of the Arcane, I learned that I could reanimate any corpse and not only bring it to life, but command it to do my bidding! Yes, I am thinking, this is perfect, for a being that I raise from the dead will surely appreciate me more than the ungrateful living.

I waited breathlessly for the perfect night. My thoughts were focused on the corpse of a young ratonga that had been dead barely seven days. Thus, it would be less rotted than other corpses. And being that of a small creature, even more likely to bend to the will of Zatirre! From the morning of the preceeding day, I began preparing my spell.

The perfect night came, clear and calm. Except for the call of the hyenas, it was quiet. Yes, a perfect night, chosen by Zatirre! As I stood over the ratonga’s grave, I could see its earth churning slightly, then crumbling apart as my ratonga zombie’s arms broke through. Within minutes, the zombie stood before me. Yes, the fur was matted from being buried, but it was alive again, thanks to my efforts.

“I am your master,” I said to it. “I am Zatirre, Lord of the Zombies!” It raised its black-furred face toward me. I could see the hollowness of its gaze, the lack of any conscious thought in its mind. Yet, it seemed to consider my words and ponder their meaning. “Speak!” I commanded, causing the zombie to shudder violently. I stepped backward — could I have waited too long to recall this one? Had I, Zatirre, inconceivably made a mistake?

And then — it spoke! Its jaws worked back and forth. I could hear the ligaments in its neck and jaw breaking apart as the creature opened its mouth — a mouth that had been closed shut by the stiffness of death for seven full days! Dust poured fourth from its slightly parted lips as it struggled to form words. “I am…” said the zombie in a thin, reedy voice, “…hungry.”

It spoke! Yes, the zombie brought forth from the dead spoke and I, Zatirre, exulted! I stood beside the opened grave and danced, praising aloud my skill. I turned to the zombie, that seemed fascinated by the cakes of dirt hanging from its dull fur and taking it by its shoulders, rotated it this way and that. My specimen was complete, if filthy.

And then, something I had not anticipated happened. Yes, even I, Zatirre, had not foreseen this circumstance. The zombie held its hand out before it, turning it this way and that, holding it up before its face. Tilting its head quizzically to the side, it spoke yet again. “I am hungry,” it said, and then it took a very hearty bite of its own arm!

As I stared in amazement, I could hear its teeth cracking within its skull. It frowned, causing its fur to stretch across its forehead, before bursting open to expose a glint of bone. The zombie turned to me and a vague recognition filled its dull eyes. “I’m hungry,” it said through its broken teeth and slack-skinned mouth, reaching out a stiff and dirty hand toward me. I felt its fingers close in upon my arm, piercing the flesh with an unguessed strength.

Quickly, I evoked another spell and cast it hastily upon the zombie, which fell to the ground in a heap of lifeless fur and bone. My escape was narrow but my experience broadened. I, Zatirre, set this in writing to enlighten others of the way of the zombie.

Zapho’s Celestial Guide to the Stars

by Zapho the Ancient of Ak’Anon
A guide to quaintly named random clusters of stars seen in the night sky.

Of course they’re in the night sky; you couldn’t see them during the day! — Zapho the Ancient

Sprocketsnik’s Tinkering is the name for a grouping of several stars that represent the Tinkerer before an anvil.

A well-known tinkerer in his day, Sprocketsnik’s workshop was occasionally engulfed in flames dur to the speed at which he worked.

Sparks surround his figure in the constellation, obscuring it on all but the clearest of nights.

A family of gnomes named Gizmo were dedicated to building a better sailing device.

Their efforts pleased Brell Serilis so much that he had them turned into the Glittering Gizmos constellation when the first Wind-o-Matic exploded during testing, scattering their remains.

Before measurements were standardized, folks used the Star of Ak’Anon to indicate levels of brightness.

“That’s a ten Star” meant an object was ten times as bright as the Star of Ak’Anon on a clear night.

One of several star clusters named for creatures, the Minotaur’s Horn resembles its namesake, with a bright star marking its tip, while lesser celestial lights outline its triangular shape.

Late in the season, the horn is seen facing toward the east with its widest area facing toward the ground. If this is seen prior to the harvest, it indicates fields of plenty. When this occurs after harvest has begun, there is a chance for famine.

Though some remember Meldrath the Malignant for his minotaurs, he was also keen on building racing ships that could pierce through any hull.

One of his ships is represented amongst the stars as Meldrath’s Fury, a bright cluster of stars grouped in a circle, trailed by a plume of faint scattered stars.

The Cog of Cobbleknob represents the strongest cog in the sky, one spoke for every direction.

Some say it represents the eye of Brell, watching over the gnomes, fringed by shimmering eyelashes.

Others say that the Cobbleknob family paid dearly for the opportunity to have this constellation named for them.

The constellation Clockword MX is generally low in the night sky no matter what the season.

Look for twin lights at the center of a spiral of eight appendages, each marked by three progressively fainter stars.

Some of the MX’s stars are part of other constellations, making this one truly difficult to locate.

Gribletobs greatest invention, the Magnificent Gadget, was said to be called the “Malfunctioning Gadget” as the center cog was always having trouble, but the four along the edge never wavered.

Look for a single star in a dark field, surrounded by its faithful and unwavering companions.

Why We Fight, Chronicle One

This is the book that was given to me by Mistress Jaeta H’arn of the Order of Nektulos. She says this book is from long before the Cataclysm and is one of the first books all Teir`Dal children read

The Teir`Dal were once the rulers of the entire surface and beyond of Norrath. We ruled all the lands and all the peoples contained within them. Even the trees bowed to us. But, we were betrayed and left to suffer.

The evil, vile Koada`Dal and their cousins the Feir`Dal, in their weakness, called upon their frail and cowardly Gods. They banded together and directly attacked us. They broke all traditions of the Gods and came for us because they knew they could not overcome The Prince of Hate.

So good was the Gods’ cover up of their actions that the Father never took action to aid us directly…but oh did he punish them. They were all imprisoned in his plane and made to suffer for eternity. The Father again did not aid us, but instead, to strengthen, us we were given the responsibility of punishing those who dared threaten us!

Now we hunt those elves and their allies. Vengeance will be ours and we will reclaim the lands that are rightfully ours! For the Prince of Hate we will fight! For our honor we will fight! Never will we stop in our pursuit! Take arms young warrior and fight the battle for your ancestors and all Teir`Dal.

Why the Grump Hated Frostfell

Every goblin in Gibberville liked Frostfell time a lot


Did NOT.

Grimagus hated Gifting Day! That whole Frostfell time!
When gifting and gabbing and giggling gave cheer.

It could be he thought his own gifts weren’t quite right.
It could be, mayhaps, that his funds were too tight.

But the reason most likely – and let us be blunt –
Was the horrible youth he had spent as a runt.

He thought of the times when he was quite so small
That other Gigglegibbers called him a Goofball.

Grimagus moped in the corner or they tossed him around
And he peeped not a word; he would not make a sound.

His lunch coin would fall from his pockets with ease
As the other Gigglegibbers taunted and teased.

Though now he is rich and owns the whole town
Those were sad times when they called him a clown.

Grimagus grew into a mischievous teener
And wider and richer and quite a lot meaner.

Over time, Grimagus outgrew being a chump.
In fact, all the Gigglegibbers now called him the Grump.
He was grumpy and snarly and bossy most days
Especially during the goblins’ few holidays.

Holiday time always made the Grump bleak.
He remembered those days when he was young and weak.

And the festive time he hated, hated most of all
Was Frostfell time, when folks tall and small
When folks young and old, and folks far and near
Would exchange little presents and be of good cheer.

“They’re buying their presents,” he said now with a growl.
“Gifting Day is tomorrow! That day, oh, most foul!”

HE pounded his fist and he cried with a sneer,
“There will be NO Gifting Day! Not no-how, this year!”

He thought of the elves, with their boxes and bows.
He thought of them singing and twinkling their toes.

The thought of those elves made him quite sneery.
They were chipper and sparkly and impossibly cheery.

“They’ve never been sad, never gone without gifts…”
“And that is something I simply must fix.”

“I’ll stop Frostfell time!” his eyes glinted with glee.
“I’ll start in the cities! I’ll make them all flee!”

The Grump plotted how he could bag up the goods
That were sure to bring Frostfell time cheer to the ‘hoods.
“I’ll take all the feasts and baubles and toys”
“That were meant for all the good girls and boys!”

The Grump found himself empty boxes and bags.
He then bundled up in some tatters and rags.

And he raced through the villages. He races through the ‘hoods.
He swiped and he stole and he took what he could.

He took the wrapped presents. He took the cooked feasts.
The Grump even took the pies of minced meats!

And as he was leaving, his sack bulging with stuff,
The adventurers shouted, “Enough is enough!”
“We know you’re unhappy because of the past”
“When the other Gigglegibbers made you an outcast.”

They gathered around him and he braced for a fight.
“Don’t be mad!” said one. “We will put the past right.”

“Though you were put down and all your presents got broke,”
“Is that a reason to take from innocent folk?”

Snarled the Grump, “Do not judge my sad childhood.”
“But,” said one tiny elf, “You used to be good.”

And deep down inside, the Grump felt himself sway
He had once been good; what had made him this way?

The Grump stared at the small group and realized at last
That they weren’t being mean; they were all just downcast.

And he knew deep inside he was no Frostfell-hater!
He’d hidden his heart like a prestidigitator!

He’d give back the presents. He’d give back the feasts.
He’d even return all the pies of minced meats!

The littlest elf extended her hand and invited the goblin to visit her land.
“Come stay with us!” said the elf, “We’ll help you stay true!”

And that’s exactly what

Gigglegibber did,