Category Archives: Dwarven

The Prophetic Mystery

“The Prophetic Mystery” – from the writings of Geraint Caradoc
“The under dynasty will be eaten, starting with your bottom.”

This is the phrase that started it all. First it was a curiosity, and now that I have began to look further into it, my interests have grown. I had come across the prophecy as I was rebinding some of the books in my grandfather’s library that had survived these few years since the War of Plague upon Qeynos. It was in an ancient dialect of Erudish, but its mention of a dynasty eaten and my bottom made me laugh.

Due to the age of the prophecy, I have began to wonder if this could be something that has already taken place, or something still to come. I have decided to start investigating it, and am keeping this journal as record of my findings.

“The under dynasty” may be speaking of an underworld empire or leadership of a kingdom that came from an underground location.

Gnolls, kobolds, dark elves, dwarves, halflings, minotaurs, goblins, shik’nar, fire giants, burynai, undead, and dragons all come from below, or live below ground. Ak’Anon, Neriak, Blackburrow, the Underfoot, and Nagafen’s Lair can all be considered kingdoms that are located underground.

Under dynasty could also be speaking more of an underdog; the oppressed; the disadvantaged. This would also fit with the gnolls, kobolds, minotaurs and goblins.

“Eaten, starting with your bottom.” is an odd phrase to say the least.

To eat is to wear away, corrode, devour, ravage, consume or overtake. But “starting with your bottom”…what could that imply? The underside, the base, the origin, lowest point. That could be both physically, or socially. The lowest of people within that society, or the lowest point of the empire’s recognized land? Maybe the foundation of the empire itself?

Dragons definately devour, and they tend to make their lairs in underground locations. But if it were a prophecy relating to the mystically powerful dragons, then I should be able to find other related prophecies. But my search for other prophecies, so far, has had little results.

I did find several others that also referred to kingdoms coming to an end, but I was able to discern key differences to know they were not speaking of the same instance.

I consulted an oracle who is well known for her ability to see underlying meanings, and some of her previous prophecies have already come to pass. I had my notes with me, but she never even read them!

“You have Brell on the brain, and cannot dig yourself out from under it. An old enemy, always buried…quakes and cracks upon the land. They make the attack upon their holy land. Crusade to take it for all his children. Growls and drool below the man of stone and stein.”

It was all she could say.

These new details of the prophecy allowed me to narrow my search; gnolls, kobolds, minotaurs, goblins, burynai, and dragons. They all make growl sounds, and drool.

The line about Brell could be because it all happens underground, or it could be that the prophecy involves some of his creations such as dwarves, halflings, gnolls, kobolds, and goblins. This is further supported with, “for all his children.” The most telling was, “The man of stone and stein.” That is a dwarf.

The only dwarven civilizations I know can be found on the continent of Velious and Faydwer. Of those locations, Kaladim in the Butcherblock Mountains is the one I know with suspects lurking near by; kobolds and minotaurs.

The dwarves have long held that they are the only true children of Brell Serilis. The gnolls, kobolds, and goblins have long been offended by such claims. They, as well as so many other creatures of the Underfoot, all hold him as their creator. I suspect this prophecy is about the kobolds.

Kobolds are a subterranean, tribal race that resemble oversized attack dogs. Compared with a gnoll they are bulkier, and more stout. They walk hunched over, and often on their knuckles.

They appear to be less civilized then gnolls, as they never don clothes and rarely equip tools, but they are a force to be reckoned with. They are not to be underestimated in their magic proficiency nor in their raw brute strength. They have leaders and shaman that can organize the tribe quickly and effectively.

They have long engaged in a fierce and a horribly bloody grudge against the younger children of Brell, the dwarves and gnomes.

Lore tells of the direct relation of this animosity leading to the birth of the Lord of Despair, Rolfron Zek. This sibling rivalry could easily be fanned into a blazing inferno.

Kobolds are close with nature, especially beings which they consider to be kindred souls, which can allow them to gain the cooperation of other creatures for whatever means.

They believe in the spirituality of animals, but also the existence of their deity and creator, Brell. This can make for a dangerous enemy. They can gain the cooperation of others, and they have the conviction of religion to embolden their crusades.

If this prophecy is about the kobolds and the dwarves, then it stands to reason that it has not happened, yet. It is a warning that the kobolds will rise up after an earthquake and take the city of Kaladim from the dwarves themselves!

No such feat has been attempted, but if they were to organize and shore their numbers they could have an army big enough to take advantage of the confusion and grief that would accompany an earthquake in the Butcherblock Mountains.

I wonder if I should send my studies of this prophecy to the dwarves of Kaladim, or if they would simply laugh it off. I am not a seasoned scholar of prognostication.

I should do more research before I trouble them.

The Hammer of Below

The Hammer of Below begins amidst the conflict of the unworthy. It is a relic whose path led through the abyssal lair of the last child of the Ocean Lord. It is within that hold, a prison of Prexus some would say, that the omega did vie with the intellect. This battle of egos will someday begin the mortal quest of Stormhammer.

Deep sixed within an oubiette, many adventurers have perished. He is the last of his kind, the last of the Norrathian children of Qisallis. With a physique formed of fish and Dal, the omega guards his keep. Those who enter find themselves eternal residents of this deathly realm. What was once a city of deep learning has become a memorial of a race long forgot. The omega allows no departures from this ancient place. Here by his side the creatures of Qisallis flutter and float and incarcerate those who seek what is not theirs. No one escapes, but the intellect defies this law.

A great power of the abyss meets a legendary intellect. Such a confrontation is made for the ages. It all began with a threat of knowledge, a release of a secret… a taunt of the highest power. The great intellect that hailed from Mount Erudition delved into the ancient ages and uncovered the reason for the omega, the hidden force behind an extinction of the children of the Ocean Lord. Entering into the murky ruins, he entered armed with only this lost truth. It is all he needed.

With a threat and a boast the intellect defies his host. The one from below is enraged and mad that his secret is released, a secret of great sadness. To the one that did taunt, death would have arrived if it were not for the supernatural stalemate. A power that was the unwitting end of a race is also wielded by a highman. The intellect directs a threat of destruction if his demands are not met. The power that could destroy an entire race within the blink of a titan’s eye could be unleashed by one who has studied and mastered the many circles of the arcane. The omega must comply and the great intellect wins the day.

The keep of the abyss has been compromised and the great intellect threatens to return. But the omega strikes back in silence and within a vision granted the eyes of the intellect shall be redirected. A vision is given of a great relic of below, a hammer of the gods that once lay in the hands of the first kind of Kaladim. This vision was granted to an unscrupulous stout by the name of Duskan Hammerhand. In the vision, the hammer is secreted beneath the great cauldron, within a barnacle-encrusted tower. Here it is guarded by goblins of the abyss. Here is where Hammerhand shall find it.

Duskan recognized the holy relic of the dwarves. Delusions of grandeur lead him to a foolish attempt to retrieve the hammer. The witless bandit dives into the cauldron and locates the citadel of the abyss. His entry depicts his great skill, but the halls of water are not gracious to guests. The goblins of the abyss are quick to spring to action. Their movements were as fluid as the tides. His dreams of being the lone hero are in vain, his mission into the barnacle citadel, futile. Barely escaping with his life, the stout rises to the surface. He knows he must return to Kaladim and lick his wounds. The glory of rescue shall be a joint venture of rogue and guard.

Crawling along the short, near death and barely coherent, Duskan manages to convince a party of passing trotters to escort him to the kingdom of the dwarves. There, Duskan is brought before King Kazon Stormhammer and explains his vision and his ordeal. The king organizes an expedition to recover the hammer. At the lead of this assault are three dwarven champions; Boric Stormhammer, Kalek Orefinder and Fenric Ogrebane. These three heroes are aided by guard and trotter. Trotters have a tendency to fall into the ventures of the ancient empires. What it is they seek is not glory, but riches and power. Their mettle is soon tested as the mission to retrieve Dagnor’s Fist begins.

The march to the cauldron is long and hard. The heroes of the kingdom reached the shores. Battling back the vanguard of the abyss was done at ease. The battle continued into the murky depths of the cauldron. The heroes breached the barnacled-keep and cut down the forces within. The final defender would not be so easy, or alone. The goblin Tide Lord faced the heroes in a battle for the hammer. Although the Tide Lord was powerful, the heroes found an advantage. When victory was near, Phinigel Autropos did appear. With power unmatched, the omega stymies the heroes, driving them back. Then without reason, he vanished. The heroes are victorious, so it would seem. The hammer is won.

The victory march back to Kaladim is interrupted. A Teir’Dal hero and his dragoon raiding party appear and a violent battle ensues. In the skirmish, the heroes are outnumbered and each falls against insurmountable odds. Valkis D’Vinn, leader of the dragoons, carefully seals the captured hammer in an enchanted chest, and orders his group to march to the nearby kingdom of the orcs and ally to Neriak. But Fenric is not dead! His ability to feign death is unrivaled. Through words heard upon the field of defeat, he heard of the destination of the hammer, Crushbone Keep. When the evil army is departed, the injured hero crawls back to Kaladim and with him comes the location of the hammer.

A final operation to reclaim the hammer of Dagnor Butcherblock is undertaken. An army of Stormguard and trotter is organized. No force could keep them from reaching the doors to Crushbone Keep. While Stormguard warriors battle Crushbone centurions a band of heroes enters to find the chest that holds the hammer. The sealed adamant chest of Thex passes into the possession of the heroes. The victorious force returned to Kaladim to deliver the chest to King Kazon. Unfortunately, the chest was impregnable, a stolen device of gnomish invention. The hammer was locked within.

Within the borderlands of the Teir’Dal Empire the key of the chest awaits. Such a place is unfamiliar to a dwarf, but not to trotter. The trotters are hired to retrieve the key. In a long expedition into the Ashlands of Tunaria, the final heroes do find the owner of the key. Captain Na’Var and his dragoons are met. The struggle for the key is long, but the trotters proved their strength. The key is taken and makes its way across the Ocean of Tears to meet the hands of the king of Kaladim. The heroes are honored and the Hammer of Butcherblock has returned to its home.

But this is not the artifact behind these words. In this tale of the hammer of the first kind of Kaladim, the riddle of Stormhammer rests. What once restrained the glorious radiance of the hammer now reveals the riddle. Through a path of a divided key, it will lead a hero. Listen well to whispers of champions and the journey shall begin. The Stormhammer, hammer of below, hammer of the thunder lords, hammer forged in the Underfoot and lost to all. This hammer shall wait beyond turmoil, beyond war and beyond cataclysms. Within Destiny it awaits.

The Estate of Rest

The Estate of Rest
By Nicadius Quellborn
I sit now to write this account in the comfort of my home, the Estate of Rest. This marvelous house has become a sanctuary and place of relief and respite to the peaceful people of Faydwer. The creation of this estate is a special story to me and one that is my intention to record on the pages before me.

Jessa took great care spooning the broth she made into the dwarf’s mouth. He was able to tell us that his name was Kyll Rucksif from the dwarven city of Kaladim to the north. Kyll said he had gone hunting with his younger brother several days ago and lost his way. He said that while he slept that night he was attacked by a crazed and misshapen bear. Kyll saw the light from our hovel and ran toward it, eventually collapsing near the well where Jessa found him in the morning.

Young Jessa was amazed by the sight of the Statue of Stormhammer, the mighty carving of rock that graces the entrance to the Halls of Kaladim. We were welcomed with open arms as we escorted the young Rucksif home to his worried father. Kyll’s father is a greatly respected and prominent dwarven mason by the name of Viktur Rucksif. Viktur was so grateful for the care my daughter and I showed his son. After showering us with a veritable feast of meats and cheeses, Viktur offered his home for as long as we wanted to rest.

Viktur asked us to stay as his guests for a couple days while he finished his commissions in Kaladim and then escorted us back to our humble abode to the south. He set out right away creating plans and recruiting apprentice masons for the work. What started out as a humble and quiet home in my mind became a magnificent manor of exquisite workmanship. Viktur had created a marvelous estate that represents gratitude and friendship.

My hope and prayer is that Kyll’s perpectually troubled younger brother would also follow in the footsteps of his sibling and take to the words of the Tranquil One. That lad shows disrespect for his elders and even to Brell. In spite of the efforts of his family, the guards are always escorting that boy home int he middle of the night.

Quellious knows that poor Garanel would benefit from the teachings of Peace and Tranquility.

I, Nicadius Quellborn, praise the Tranquil One, the Goddess of Peace, Quellious, daily for the bounteous blessings she has blessed me with. The greatest of her gifts is the health and beauty found in my only child, my daughter Jessa. She is as every bit lovely and kind as her wonderful mother. May my wife’s soul always find peace and rest in the light of Quellious. I will one day also depart this life and be reunited again with you my love.

The history of this beautiful structure began five years ago. Our home at that time was nothing more than a meager hovel that Jessa and I lived in for all thirteen years of her young life. It was the same place I built when Jessa and I first came to this land, seeking to bring the word of Tranquility to the people of Faydwer and the knowledge of the goddess Quellious.

After feeding and tending to the dwarf we let him rest upon my bed. It was only three days time before Kyll was arising from his bed before either myself or Jessa awoke for the day. He would draw the water and start the cook fires eager to assist those that helped him. I knew then that the boy was more than healed enough for the journey home. I anxiously realized then that the time had come for me to finally meet the people of Kaladim, if only to return the boy to his family.

Being polite, Jessa complimented Viktur on such a beautiful home and how it was so different from our own hovel. The elder dwarf inquired more of our living conditions and I humbly told him of the place I built with my own hands near my beloved wife’s grave. Upon hearing this Viktur insisted that to properly thank us he would offer to build us a proper home. As much as I declined the offer Viktur persisted until I finally gave in and agreed to let him build us a small house.

Whenever I mentioned that the estate is too much Viktur quickly rebuttals with a grin that I speak nonsense and this is the standard size for a house built in gratitude for caring for one’s child. Viktur and I have become the closest of friends, even though he has jovially resisted all my friendly attempts at converting him from his unwavering devotion of Brell. The same was true for all dwarves of Kaladim, except for Kyll. He has been forever grateful to Jessa and me and has grown up with Jessa. he alone has spent equal time in the chapels of both Quellious and Brell.

Rise of the Orcs – The Rousing

“Rise of the Orcs – The Rousing”
Second Edition

This book highlights the turning point when the orcs would start to become a force to be reckoned with.

The following historical account details what some stories describe as the “return” of the orcs. Once primal savages, the orcs would become frightening masters of tactics and strategy not seen on Norrath for nearly thousand years. The following facts have been taken from many different sources ranging from fragments of parchment to tales told by elderly elves.

The Deathfist Orcs: By the Age of Turmoil, the Deathfist orcs would become a formidable threat to the city of Freeport. Having grown in size, the Deathfist orcs would absorb all of the surrounding tribes, making them the largest tribe on Norrath. Their numbers would prompt the Overlord of Freeport to send his armies against these savages from time to time in an attempt to keep them from destroying all commerce. This would change one day, however.

When one of the Freeport Militia raiding parties failed to return one day, several search parties were sent after them. When none of them returned either, one third of the Militia was sent to find the cause of their disappearance. Of the twelve hundred soldiers that left to search for the patrols, only seventeen would return to describe what happened to the legion. Their tale would change the way people viewed the orcs the world over.

As the legion reached the last known site of the troops, they spotted several orcs fleeing into a narrow ravine. Following them into the ravine, they spotted the mangled bodies of their fallen comrades. At that same moment, a wave of boulders fell from the surrounding cliffs, closing off their escape. That was when the hundreds of enraged, trained elephants were let loose by the Deathfist orcs. At full speed, they began to stampede through the ravine… straight for the doomed Militia.

The Snow Orcs: During this time, the Snow Orc’s numbers would be reduced drastically. Having been driven to the eastern half of Everfrost Peaks, the Snow Orcs were wedged between the lair of a mighty dragon on one side and the ever-expanding mammoth-tusk trade on the other. Were it not for a change in the way they used their weapons, the snow orcs would count this time period as their last on Norrath.

The shamans of the Snow Orc tribes would at times raise the bodies of the fallen, friend or foe alike. These icy boned skeletons would then be sent loose to wander the frozen wastelands, attacking anything it would find. The Snow Orcs hoped that the skeletons would one day find a barbarian or adventurer and kill them. By some unknown means, the Snow Orcs would change tactics and start using their undead minions with surprising efficiency.

Cleverly hiding their actions from everyone, the orcs would begin to bury many lines of skeletons beneath the snow outside the entrance to the great dragon’s lair. As great heroes would come running out of her lair holding some stolen artifact, a group of orc shamans would be waiting. At the precise moment, all of the shamans would raise the skeletons to life, trapping the raiding party inside a circle of hundreds of skeletons. It wouldn’t take long for the undead to overwhelm the heroes. The Snow orcs would then take the artifacts from the dead adventurers, flay the flesh from their bones, and add them to their army of undead.

The Crushbone Orcs : No one knows for sure where they acquired them, but by this time in history the Crushbone orcs would be seen carrying weapons of dark elf make. Rumors tell of a dark elf ambassador being seen in the highest tower of the orc’s castle, so it can only be assumed the orcs had brokered a deal with their people. Considering the less than philanthropic nature of the dark elves, it is still a mystery as to what the orcs were providing in return.

The Crushbone orcs would claim a stunning victory against the elves of Kelethin one fateful day. Amassing their highly trained armies, they launched an attack against both the dwarven city of Kaladim and the high elven city of Felwithe. The residents of the tree city of Kelethin split their forces to help defend their allies’ cities and were able to stop the orcish legionnaires with only minimal causalities.

Little did they know, the true target of the orcish assault was the city of Kelethin. Attacking with their real army, the Crushbone orcs would succeed at chopping down two of the ancient trees supporting the wood elf city. By the time the wood elves would return home and put a stop to the orcs, half of Kelethin would be destroyed.

Rise of the Orcs – The Deadtime

“Rise of the Orcs – The Deadtime”
Second Edition

This book details the histories of several orcish tribes when they were nothing more than savage beasts.

The following historical account details the early years of the orcish people. Not much is known about these savages, for most that has been written about them speak only of their predations rather than their personal histories. The following facts have been taken from many different sources ranging from fragments of parchment to tales told by elderly elves.

The Deathfist Orcs – Before the Rending, Antonica was much larger than it is today. Many orcs would roam this once great continent, banding together in tribes. One of these tribes called themselves the Deathfist orcs. Making their home near the city of Freeport, they were a deadly threat to travelers.

Preying upon merchant caravans traveling to the nearby fortress of Highhold, the Deathfist orcs would acquire goods of all types, ranging from foodstuffs to finely crafted weapons. Attracting the attention of nearby brigands, they would ultimately come to an unspoken agreement to not get in each other’s ways, sometimes even joining forces with each other.

Working alongside their Dervish Cutthroat partners, the Deathfists would become enough of a threat to Freeport that the city started issuing bounties for proof of their deaths. This would continue for many years to come, but the city was never able to fully exterminate these ruthless savages.

Snow Orcs – One of several tribes of orcs living on the great continent of Antonica, the Snow Orcs had managed to thrive by choosing to migrate to a desolate, frozen wasteland. Living in the land that was once called Everfrost, the Snow Orcs had only one major enemy to contend within upon those frozen plains – the barbarians of Halas.

An uneasy peace would exist between their barbarian neighbors and themselves. Due to this truce, The Snow Orcs were able to devote more time to worshipping their god than their other tribal counterparts in other lands. One of the few tribes known to have shown signs of having more than just animal-level thought, the Snow Orcs would create small temples to perform primitive rituals and ceremonies to Rallos Zek.

The barbarian clans would eventually unite, causing the shaky truce to come to and end. Destroying every temple they could find, the barbarians would wage war upon the Snow Orcs for the coming centuries. During this time, the Snow Orcs would revert to savagery, all but forgetting their shamanistic qualities.

The Crushbone Orcs – Another tribe that would by migrating far away were the Crushbone Orcs. In a weird chapter of orcish history, the Crushbone tribe would build a great fleet of crude boats and rafts and sail off to the former continent of Faydwyr. Never before had anyone seen a level of ingenuity evidenced by these primal savages. Many of the orcs would survive the crossing of the ocean, which is the most astounding part of this tale.

Wasting no time in making new enemies upon this new continent, the Crushbone orcs would begin warring with the native dwarves and soon after, the elves. Being overwhelmed by the cooperation of the dwarves and elves, the orcs would be routed battle after battle. Were it not for finding an abandoned outpost in a secluded vale, the Crushbone tribe’s history would have ended there.

Using the fort as a base of operations, the Crushbone orcs would soon begin to turn the table on the elves and dwarves. Launching surprisingly organized raids upon the tree city of Kelethin, the Crushbone orcs would become a force of destruction rather than annoyance. Eventually seeking aid from adventuring types, the elves would find that the Crushbone orcs had organized into a haphazard army, but one that could not easily be put down even with the combined might of the elven and dwarven nations. In hindsight, this would be the first warning of what was to come.

Dancing with Bugbears

My studies and life among the captivating bugbears of Butcherblock Mountains.
After months of talk and study, I have decided to go where my heart has been pulling. I am leaving for Butcherblock from Thundering Steps, tomorrow! My calling is amongst the misunderstood bugbears. I will bring a knowledge of these poor creatures to all of Norrath!

Some believe that a halfling woman, such as myself, must be mad, choosing to study such intimidating beings. And be it in a foreign and treacherous land, then she’s doubly mad! I silence them with my rebuttal, “If I do not do it, who will?”

I landed at the Butcherblock docks, and had soon secured a dwarven guide and several helpers to aid my trip to the bugbear camp. They were a burly lot, and looked a bit rough around the edges, but they certainly knew the fastest paths and the safest routes. Plat well spent, no doubt! We traversed north through the lush Highlands with little trouble, and made camp for the night a bit off from the bugbears.

The next morning, the dwarves and I shared a meal and resumed our trek to the bugbear camp.

We weren’t but a griffin’s leap from the camp when a large bugbear came running at us from the side! It was a male, wearing crude skins and jagged metal bits as armor. He wielded a club with nails embedded in its surface.

The dwarves fought back , in their fear and ignorance. This only brought others to the fight! I tried to calm the lot, to stop the dwarves, but they must not have heard me what with all the screaming. I cannot blame these abused creatures! Here we were coming to their homes appearing as an army might.

They had long been the slaves of other Underfoot races, and our merry band of scientists must have looked to them like any other, coming in to enslave them, again.

I was blesed that they had noticed my pacifist nature, and my respect for their well being. I mourned for my guides, who knew no better then to meet aggression in kind, but I am here as proof that it is not the only answer.

I established my own camp very near to theirs, and have even been allowed to watch them from afar. I know they are watching me, too. Studying my moves and behaviour, no doubt, as I am theirs. They are too protective and inquisitive not to!

How such a majestic race came to be thought of as a digrace or purely as muscle and fodder for mining and construction initiatives is beyond me!

As I have been living near the bugbear clan and studying them, they have grouwn increasingly inquisitive and welcoming of my presence. Several have approached me, and have bene grateful for the meals that I have shared with them!

Language is a bit of a challenge, but with patience and an open mind, I find that we communicate quite well. The desires of a child are easy to discern even before they can speak. The situation is similar, and at some points has triggered my maternal instincts.

During my studies, I have made a great deal of headway with the clan, and have even been approached by some of the more curious ones, even nick named several!

Pookie is demure. Light in tint, he takes extra care to muss his hair with mud. he enjoys watching me and has even started to imitate my writing with his finger.

Nibbles is a darker brown. He enjoyes stocking small creatures, and is rather protective of his kills.

Cuddles is an enamored member of the clan. He even gives me kisses. Or that is to say, his version. I have never witness the bugbear show affection amongst themselves, but he licks my face, and smacks his lips. It is quite sweet!

Jumjum is a fighter, and has been witnessed instigating more then one amongst his own clan. I wonder if he is trying to prove his worth for battle.

Silverback named for the distinctive patch of silver hair on this back, though it is often covered by his leather smock.

I was fortunate to witness a prize being presented to the clan leader, today! A hunting party passed by my camp grunting and barking at one another. Their volume indicated that they were excited by something. It had alarmed me at first, but their body language told me it was a joyous occasion. They walked proud, and were hitting each other playfully.

Once within their camp, they gathered in front of the leader, and many ornate armor pieces were thrown on the ground at his feet. He made a great whoop!

Jumjum then produced several very hairy looking orbs from a bundled object he carried. I could not make out the objects from my distance sadly, but it brought the entire tribe to grunting, and hitting the ground! What an adventure to see such joy and pride exuded from these graceful creatures!

I must admit that I am confused by the other Faydwer folk. Earlier, some startled me as I was strolling back from studying Pookie. They called to me while waving their arms and motioning to to come hither.

“Thank Tunare, we got here in time!”

“What is the matter?” I asked.

They appeared to be dumbstuck.

“You are in grave danger, dear lady.”

One even warned, “That one’s a man killer!”

“I am in no such danger.” I assured them. “I only fear being crushed by their love!”

And with that, I walked back to my camp, to continue my mission. My published work will disprove misconceptions and myths about the bugbear, including the myth that they are violent.

They clan has been very busy the last few days. They gatherers have been collecting fresh game, and roots while the crafters have been making new skins into banners and clothes. They must be getting ready for a ceremony or a celebration of some kind!

The best news is that Cuddles has come to my tent. I think he wish me to join in the party! He is wearing some of the new skins upon his head and is accompanied by one of the tribe shaman. They are waiting with me now, but have made motions and grunts to each other to indicate I am to follow.

Perhaps they wish to make me a part of the tribe or to extend some other pleasantry upon me! No doubt, my next entry shall be full of merriment and awe. I am excited to share all that would have occurred, and all that I have learned on this night!

(There are no further entries. This page, like many of the following pages, is smeared with crusty mud and blood left by thick fingerprints.)

Bootstrutter’s Field Guide to the Misty Thicket

The Misty Thicket: Many refer to this land as the Enchanted Lands, but I prefer the name of old, The Misty Thicket. The land here has changed drastically, what once was a fertile land surrounded by steep cliffs and a lake to nowhere is now an island of just a portion of its former majesty. The isolated haven once provided safety to the halflings, but since the Rendering this land has no natural defenses and it has begun to be tormented by fiends the likes of which Norrath has never seen.
Bobick: This quiet seaside dockyard was built where the Great Stream used to caress the banks of the Misty Thicket. In Old Antonica Bobick was a flourishing fishing village. In this age the halflings have erected a dockyard to fish from the Seamist Coast as well as provide mooring for ships that rarely arrive. Bobick was named after the legendary shipwright and adventurer Fiddy Bobick. A descendant of his still operates the dockyard in a hostile land.

The Wreck of The Guppy: The Guppy was once the stout sturdy sailing vessel ever engineered by the legendary Fiddy Bobick. The Guppy was built to sail the far seas and carry Fiddy and his adventuring friends to wondrous lands. Eventually Fiddy deconstructed and rebuilt The Guppy inside of Rivervale to use it as his dwelling. Ages past and after the cataclysms the halflings attempted to reconstruct the boat to cross the Sea of Mist. Unfortunately they were not shipwrights. Many halflings drowned as The Guppy sank barely a stones throw from the dock.

Bumble Thorn Flower Patch: The flowers that bloom within this patch are said to be of magical properties. This must surely be so as legend uncovered have placed the elusive halfling draconic sage called the Drafling as the sower of these seeds. Further evidence of his magic exists in the form of a sentient scarecrow that believes he is the defender of this tiny blooming village.

The Goblin Ward: This is a massive wooden totem built by the Runnyeye Goblins. Apparently the goblins empowered the great totem with some of their greatest powers in hopes that it could ward away the evil spirits that they believed were going to arrive in their territory. Whether this ward performed its function is unknown without at first knowing which spirits the goblins foresaw. What is known is that this is a comfortable place for grogged down halflings to nap.

The Gullet: This tunnel was carved into the steep ridge of the vale foothills of Kithicor by halfling engineers. It was a great feat that no doubt employed the direction of a dwarven miner’s guild. The Gullet was one of two great tunnels leading into the halfling city Rivervale. The natural defense of the steep hills kept the isolated vale safe from the dangerous wilds beyond.

Rivergate Cascade: This is a grand waterfall that falls from an outlet high in the steep foothills of Rivervale. The water trickles out from an outlet that links to the mysterious grotto workshop of the legendary Fiddy Bobick. A river within Rivervale runs into Rivergate to power the machines of the great shipwright. The water then runs from the outlet to create this wondrous cascade.

Fay Isle: This little bit of land is plopped out along the southeast coast of the Misty Thicket. When I first arrived at this spot it was filled with a flurry of light, dazzling to the eye and hypnotic to the senses. As I drew closer I found the isle filled with golden fairies of good nature.

Chomper’s Pond: This tranquil looking fishing hole seems like a wonderful place for a dip, but beware the ferocious Chomper lurks here! The great fish is said to have lived within the pond of Rivervale more than two ages ago! Since then Chomper has somehow found his way out into this pond. The halflings should be thankful for the voracious fish has grown considerably since the Age of Turmoil and is more than one man can handle in a fight for his life.

Shortwine Burrow: The hills and dales beyond the great timber guard of the Misty Thicket are dotted with halfling burrows, but none so sweet and intoxicating to the senses as Shortwine Burrows. This plot of land was owned by the Shortwine family and was once home to the rumberry, a required ingredient in the families award wining libations.

Berrybrook Field: Nestled between the shores of the coast and the banks of the Lazy Drain is Berrybrook Field, a small halfling shire. These halflings spent most of their days hunting and foraging for goods that would be traded amongst the stout folk, but being so close to the valuable resources also brought them close the foul stench of the goblins of Runnyeye.

Lookout Stump: Struck by lighting and with a fell of a tree this stump was the final stout oak to live. These trees of great girth provided the halflings with much of their building resources, but here the final one to fall was transformed into a deputy lookout post. As seasons past the lookout soon became a stage. For ages halflings have come here to proclaim intellectual thoughts and even shouts of goblin curses.

Seridd’s Sanctum: Also known as Seridd’s Pond this watering hole was once the retreat of a powerful halfling druid named Seridd Barkfoot. Seridd would come here to reflect upon his many adventurers of his youth. Recently reports have surfaced that tell of the water coming to life. Some say portions of the pond have evolved into water elementals. Some say that Seridd actually made the pond using water elementals to fill the basin. With the absence of Seridd the elementals have no one controlling them. Tall tales?

The Misty Mine: Within the wall of a cliff can be found the entrance to Misty Mine. This mining complex is filled with dangerous twists in turns all created by the Stonebrook family. They became obsessed with the minerals of Norrath and records tell of them spending days on end hacking away inside that mine, in a crazed frenzy that became larger everyday. It was as if they were engulfed by the spirit of some berserker dwarven miner, but this is far from Kaladim.

Honeybugger Burrow: Honeyjum was known in ages past as a valuable elixir created through manipulation of jum jum, a bixie building material. The secret of honeyjum was kept by the Honeyjum family of the Misty Thicket. Their burrow still sits in the far shire, abandoned and waiting for the return of the vale folk.

The Goblin Pass: This is a wide pass ascending into the North Hills. Here a massive battle took place between a single powerful Halfling druid and a small army of goblins. Bones, armor and weapons have once been imbedded deep into the ground and have since been covered with silt and overgrowth. Two Goblin towers have been erected on either side of the pass atop hills. Avoid this pass at all costs.

Bog Mountain: Bog Mountain is a tall rocky spire, second in height only to the great mountain that holds the village of Rivervale. This is actually a large rock formation not a true mountain. It is somewhat steep, but can be scaled. The ground is somewhat damp and mucky. Small depressions gather stagnant water and form mucky mini bog ponds of only ankle depth at most. Within the slippery mountainside rests the goblin fortress Runnyeye Citadel, its presence is hinted at by goblin smokestacks that once pumped black smoke into the sky as below was forged the weapons of war. The black skies have stopped, but the goblin presence has not. Beware Bog Mountain.

Fellowship Tree: When I first encountered this plot of land I was stumped. There around a single rare cherrychum tree were a few gravesites. What is odd about this is not the rare cherrychum tree, but the graves. These graves were more akin to humans than stouts. I finally discovered that this is the resting place of a noble few allies of Rivervale’s past. Their last wish was to be buried upon the enchanted lands of the Misty Thicket.

The Foul Stench: Like the belch of bog giant or the flatulence of the ravenous god Grum, this body of stagnant water taints an otherwise enchanted land. The conventional and arcane forging going on within Bog Mountain has seeped into this large pond and has left it viscous, pungent and toxic. The Foul Stench is no place for anyone other than a goblin to dip into.

Bogbottom Mill: The Bogbottom family built this great mill during the end days of the Age of Turmoil. Their love of revelry and song brought them to river’s edge to erect this mill. Here they would spend day and night producing some of the finest lutes and flutes the world has ever seen. Unfortunately the Bogbottom’s vanished while researching the legendary bard Kelkarn. Their absence has given the goblins a new outpost within the Misty Thicket.

The Gates of Runnyeye: If one is so brave or foolish to delve along Bog Mountain they may just happen upon a dark tunnel. This tunnel is the pathway to a mighty door leading into the goblin fortress Runnyeye Citadel. The door is one of great beauty and of mysterious design. The designs are so alluring that they seem out of place amongst the crude makeshift world of the goblins.

The Glittering Mine: Far along the northern coast of the Misty Thicket can be found these mines. For many ages these mines were the nesting ground for the glittering mushrooms, magical mushrooms found nowhere else on Norrath. In the darkness of the tunnels the magical mushrooms grew and were foraged by the halflings. Unfortunately the mushrooms stopped growing and after the final one was picked the tunnels were mined for more conventional resources such as ore.

Camp Ghobber: Named after a great halfling marshal, this defiant halfling fort was placed in the wilds of the Misty Thicket. Here the deputies would stand guard and watch over the activities of the goblins and offer protection and safe haven to those vale folk caught behind the great guard of the Misty Thicket. The fort was abandoned when I arrived, but still stands as a place of safe haven for travelers that don’t mind the lack of amenities such as comfy beds and locked doors.

Winter’s Deep Pier: This pier is a monument to Old Antonica. It once acted as a dock to small fishing boats of the Vale folk. This shoreline caressed the mysterious body of water called Winter’s Deep. The center of this lake was veiled in an icy mist. What lies beyond was the inhospitable land called the Frigid Plains. Only the magical blessings from the powers that be kept the Misty Thicket from being overtaken by the deathly chill of the north.

Tagglefoot Farms: This was the humble abode of the halfing naturalist family of farmers and druids, the Tagglefoots. They were also members of the druidic guild called the Stormreapers, worshipers of Karana. They once existed inside the safety of Rivervale, but decided to migrate to the banks of the Trickledown to provide protection for the Three Pines, sentient trees that have existed since the dawn of the vale.

The Heart of the Forest: This is a spot in the forest where a giant depression formed in the Age of Turmoil. From that depression rose a gift from Tunare, an Elddar tree, one of the few left on this world. It is rumored that all forests have the power to sprout an Elddar sapling, but few are capable in these ages of turbulent powers. What gave birth to this Elddar sapling is unknown, but there are forces on Norrath that would pay highly to obtain or control the sapling.

The Isle of the Three Pines: This is a small island just off the east coastline near Tagglefoot Farms. On this island sit three towering pines, sentient the druids say. The massive trees are known as the The Three Pines to the Halflings. They say that they can also attack using great magic and large roots that rise from the ground. The roots once formed a bridge to the mainland, but all those magical powers have been subdued by some other force of nature or unature.

A Sojourn of Faith

A Sojourn of Faith
By Nicadiaus Quellborn

It is with much eagerness that I begin scribing this account, a tale that has taken me from my birth home of Erudin on the continent of Odus and has found me in this humble hovel within the foothills of the Butcherblock Mountains. This journey was prompted by a yearning and a compelled conscience that try as I might I could not deny.

During my maturation as a young erudite I noticed a contempt my brethren had towards other races, a feeling I did not share. In particular, I was quite intrigued with the civilized societies of Faydwer. Surely these people who were so radically different from each other but who could co-exist for so long in peace much have been blessed by the Tranquil One.

This thought was confirmed to me one sacred night when Quellious herself appeared to me in a dream and called me to this special mission. I was to be her voice and bring her to the people of Faydwer. However, I had a very difficult choice to make. I was, after all, a highly respected man within the temple and my beautiful wife, Jessa, was with child.

After weighing the decision carefully I concluded that I could not deny my feelings nor my goddess. I would leave my noble position and wrest my ever loving wife from her palatial home and make the dangerous sea journey. my commitment and my choice would come at a heavy cost.

It was on that passage that Jessa would give birth to our lovely daughter, but the Ocean of Tears is aptly named. By beloved wife soon fell gravely ill following childbirth. The gods in their mysterious ways decided to claim her before she ever laid eyes upon the land of our destination. My faith was shaken to its very core as I went through the horrible task of preserving my wife’s body for travel.

Our ship landed on the southern shores of Faydwer, blown off course by a savage storm. Heartbroken and filled with sorrow, I couldn’t bear to look into the face of anyone as I stepped off the ship. I ignored the warnings of the dwarven sailors that crewed the ship and set out into the wilds.

As I traveled the strange new countryside I swore that I could not bring hollow words to the dwarven city of Kaladim. I still needed time. I constructed a humble tomb for my beloved wife in the foothills of the Butcherblock Mountains and laid her to rest. I then built a simple hovel nearby, the very house I now make this record.

In time, it was through my daughter, Jessa, named for her precious mother, that my faith would return. She possessed every quality that I loved in her mother. She glowed with a lightness of spirit and warmth of heart that I could feel, as if she contained Ro itself. It was young Jessa that would one day urge me to offer up my prayers to Quellious once again.

I feel the time has come for me to make my long-delayed journey into the gates of Kaladim. I end this account now that I might close this chapter of my life and begin a new one. The dwarves of Faydwer will now hear of the peace of the Tranquil One and of the blessings she brings.

End of the Rending

This is a story of how the Rending was stopped. Others may tell their own stories, but for the faithful, there can be only one answer.

Her father had traveled by sea to Freeport and then the dangerous over land route to Qeynos. “We are not like the men of Freeport,” Danei’s father said repeatedly. Well, Danei thought to herself, we are not much like the men of Qeynos, either. Her father was Feir’Dal, an archer. Her mother, whom she had never met, was a human female of Qeynos. Danei had lived with the Feir’Dal all her life, but now they were going to Qeynos.

“Where will we live?” Danei asked again. She dragged a long stick in the dirt behind her, letting it kick up tails of dust and tiny rocks. “We live where Tunare sends us,” her father answered. Apparently Tunare was sending them into the city. They had lived outside its walls, especially during the massive earthquakes that shook the lands day and night. Danei had been frightened when the lands slid into the sea, afraid she would slide in with them.

The city was rebuilding. Again, apparently. Danei’s father, though an archer by training, worked alongside the other elves, the humans and barbarians to carry out the dwarven designs. They could not find her mother; no one knew where her family had fled. And so Danei’s days were long and tedious. When the ground rumbled beneath her, Danei huddled beneath the massive oak table in their home and would not come out until her father came home.

Eventually, Danei met the other children in her neighborhood. Some were half-elven. Some were Feir’Dal. The cobbled streets and stone buildings made them uncomfortable and so they liked to climb the dust-choked trees in the small courtyards. “These trees are dying,” whispered one of the Feir’Dal. “Tunare needs to speak with Karana and send some rain.” Danei laughed, “Tunare cannot speak to him; they’re gone!” But the lad insisted. His name was Genoa.

Genoa liked to tell tales of the ancient days, when the gods walked the world. Danei wasn’t sure she believed all his tales, but she liked listening to them anyway. When the ground rumbled and shook, they would hide together and Danei was no longer afraid to come back out before her father returned. She and Genoa would hold hands and race through the streets, competing to see who could spot the latest damage.

“Our tree,” said Danei as they ran out into the courtyard after a particularly fierce quake. The tree in their courtyard had fallen sideways, half of its roots pointing skyward while its branches lay along the dusty cobblestones like a cat stretching. “Our tree,” echoed Genoa, touching its bark. They stood together and looked at it. Danei was sorry the tree had fallen. Genoa, however, seemed devastated. He walked around it, touching it gently as though it were a rare blossom and not a gnarled tree.

“I know what we can do,” Danei said, tugging at Genoa’s sleeve. “Let’s ask Tunare to make it stop.” Genoa looked at her sadly, “You don’t believe in Tunare; don’t make fun of me.” Danei shook her head and said, “I don’t not believe in her, either. If she’ll stop the shaking, then we’ll know she’s there, won’t we?” This seemed sensible, but Genoa was hesitant. Danei goaded him, “If you don’t believe in her, just say so.” They fought so hard then that it took two adults to pull them apart.

“I’m sorry, Genoa,” Danei said. She was very sorry; the look on Genoa’s face was terrible. She hadn’t meant to take Tunare from him. He did not speak to her, jerking away from her offered hand and running home. Danei stood for a long time in the dusty street staring after him, swallowing over the lump in her throat. She felt…she felt just like Genoa must feel without Tunare. Danei had to prove to him Tunare still cared, she had to!

Danei took an ancient and brittle cup carved from Faydwer trees that she felt best suited to the task, filled it with water and went out that night. Standing beside the up-ended tree, Danei whispered, “Tunare, mother of us all, please talk to someone about the earth shakes. Please help me make up with Genoa. But mostly, make the ground stop moving.” She poured the water in a thin stream over the roots, then took the cup back inside.

The ground did not shake once over night. The next day, Danei ran out of the house and the tree was standing upright once again. She saw Genoa and ran over to him. He said, “I saw you praying last night…I guess Tunare heard you all right.” Danei nodded. “She heard me, Genoa. Everything will be okay.” They stood hand in hand looking up at the tree in their courtyard. The ground did not shake again.

Places of Norrath: Felwithe

Overview of Felwithe

Northern Felwithe
Felwithe is the home to Norrath’s Koada’Dal and has bred many an esteemed hero. Paladins and clerics are the pride of this city. Boasting elaborate guildhalls of unrivaled beauty and majesty, together their guilds form the Clerics of Tunare.

Travelers who frequent this city, have maple opportunity to purchase Koada’Dal wares and crafts, and imbibe the finest wines in all of Norrath in the hamlet’s many taverns.

This royal lakeside hamlet was founded after the destruction of the ancient forest Elddar on the continent of Antonica. It was named after the Koada’Dal hero Alissa Felwithe who led her people to Faydwer in those dark years and helped to secure the Greater Faydark as the new homeland of Tunare’s Children.

The city was built by the Koada’Dal with the assistance of dwarves; its construction is a combination of beautiful and delicate magical elf work and earth dwarven labor. Buildings mix unpainted heavy wooden support beams with plain white-washed walls. There is a “fantastic” quality fostered by multicolored paints, the liberal use of gems and precious metals, and mysterious magical carvings.

Many shops, taverns and inns accommodate the constant influx of visitors. These establishments also outfit and supply the steady flow of adventurers that emerge from the guild halls of Felwithe.

A crystalline moat surrounds the whole of Felwithe. Just beyond the moat to the south, an enormous white marble gate leads out to the Greater Faydark forest. The passage south can be found beyond the small pond that empties into the moat.

Southern Felwithe
The southern region of Felwithe houses all three arcane halls and has been outfitted to accommodate each of these separate practices. Spells, reagents, and supplies may be found here for each of these studies, making the acquisition of such items a mere, quick trip back to the alcove and tower.

The arcane keep is heavily guarded by skilled knights appointed to their posts by King Tearis Thex himself. These knights will strike down anyone who has earned the disdain of ill will of the Koada’Dal for any reason. Those of dark nature are advised to remain as far from the walls of Felwithe as possible, else they meet a sure and quick fate.

Beyond the grand white bridge and the waterway that overlooks the temple of Tunare lies the quiet northern region of the fair Koada’Dal city of Felwithe. Here Felwithe’s magicians, enchanters, and wizards reside, endlessly studying the countless ancient tomes that survived the horrible devastations of their former homeland of Takish’Hiz now ruined at the bottom of a desert grave.

A single shop resides in this small alcove carved from the waters of a crystalline pond. This shop, built into an overhang of ivy-draped earth, supplies the young apprentices with reagents, spells, robes, and other supplies that any aspiring arcane pupil needs to survive in the dangerous wilderness beyond the city gates.

Across from this small shop, stands a single white marble tower that magically sits atop a deep pond. To enter this tower, one must but step upon the glowing platform that will transport one into the otherwise inaccessible arcane hall.

Felwithe has a guildmaster for each class that is available to High Elves. Spell and tome merchants are also available for those classes. Here is a list of the main guildmasters:

General Jyleel – (Paladin)
Tynkale – (Paladin)
Yeolarn Bronzeleaf – (Cleric)
Tarker Blazetoss – (Wizard)
Niola Impholder – (Magician)
Kinool Goldsinger – (Enchanter)
City Resources
Felwithe provides the basic necessities of adventuring: Bankers, a Soulbinder, a Tribute Master, Task Masters, augmentation needs, and merchants that sell backpacks, ale, bandages, food, drink, and fishing gear.

You’ll also find a Priest of Discord, Tradeskill Quest Masters, tradeskill crafting objects, and supply merchants for jewelcrafting, baking, pottery, fletching, tailoring, and blacksmithing.

Places of Interest
Northern Felwithe
Cathedral of Fortitude
This luxurious structure is the paladin guild hall. Secret tunnels can be found within the walls and they wrap around the city. Within this great hall, young paladins will find their guildmasters Tynkale and General Jyleel.

General Jyleel:
A General in the Koada’Vie, the elite paladin organization of the Felwithe Defenders, Jyleel trains and monitors the new recruits. In times of war, General Jyleel has proven to be a valuable asset to the defense of the keep, leading the stalwart Felwithe Defender s with courage and remarkable strategic and tactical skill.

Chapel of Tunare
The clerics of Tunare worship in this large chapel build out of emerald stones. On the interior, golden pillars shaped like tree trunks rise to support the canopy of gold and emerald leaves and branches. Yeolarn Bronzeleaf is the high priest of Tunare here.

Yeolarn Bronzeleaf:
The High Priest of Tunare in charge of running Felwithe’s Temple of the All Mother, Yeolarn’s is unsurpassed in his zeal to protect the Koada’Dal and Fier’Dal from their enemies of Tunare’s children. As such, he is an important asset to Felwithe’s defenses against the dark forces of the Teir’Dal. Clerics of all ranks are often charged by Yeolarn himself with tasks concerning the disturbing plight of the Teir’Dal. Outsiders often mistake Yeolarn’s fervor against the dark elves as hatred for the Koada’Dal twisted brethren. To the contrary, Yeolarn would like nothing more than to remove the taint of Innoruuk from the Teir’Dal and return them to the goodly elven nations.

Faydark’s Bane
This sturdy wooden weapons shop is owned and operated by Tolis Fearnone. Tolis is a great warrior and has led many battles in his time against the orcs of the Faydark. He is known for his well crafted longswords which are a favorite of most rangers on Norrath.

One of the most notable shops is Faydark’s Bane, a well-built wooden building owned and operated by Tolis Fearmone, a then-young King Tearis Thex knighted Tolis after he slew a horde of orcs threatening Felwithe during its construction. Now old and gray, Tolis is know for his well-crafted longswords, favorites of Norrath’s elven swordsmen.

Emerald Armor
This wood and plaster building is home to Dalin Silverkale, the local armorer. Dalin’s chainmail is sought after by adventures from all over Norrath. Merchants can be found here selling swords, fletching and smiting kits, fletching supplies, leather armor and patterns, and a pottery wheel and kiln are located outside.

Tovania’s Venom
This is the most popular tavern in all of Felwithe. It is owned by a bard by the name of Quenon Muselender, who happens to be very talented with a harp and plays in the pub often. The name of the pub comes from a potent green liquor served here. Tovania is a legendary emerald dragon said to live in the Greater Faydark.

Traveler’s Home
The Traveler’s Home is a large inn run by an Elf family led by Vool Freegraze. Vool and his wife Tosia along with his daughter Feol run the inn and take good care of its customers.

Beyond Faydark
Rolyn Longwalker is a map maker by trade and an adventurer by birth. Rolyn has traveled the length and breath of Norrath even venturing down to the ruined port of Firiona Vie on Kunark. Rolyn’s maps are some of the most accurate that can be found and she is a font of historical information.

Shop of All Holds
Merchant Gly Sorintal runs this small but elegant shop where just about anything can be found, from cheap weapons to armor to herbs to clothing. It is also a one stop source for tradeskill supplies.

Felwithe Keeper
This is the city bank.

Bait and Tackle
Merchants here sell fishing supplies like fishing poles, fish bait, fish scales, and more.

Felwithe Fish House
This tavern offers Fish Wine, Fishcakes, fresh fish and other food and drink items. An oven can also be found inside. Outside, a merchant sells jewelry metals and rare gems.

Southern Felwithe
Keepers of the Art

The magical academy, Keepers of the Art is head by a council of three of Koada’Dal’s most skilled magic users, each representing one of the magical arts practiced by high elves.

This jewel encrusted building serves as guildhall and research center for the Wizards, Magicians, and Enchanters of Felwithe. Constructed of the finest marble and adorned with precious jewels, metals, silk tapestries, and magical runes, the tower houses the guildhalls of the three arcane practices of the Koada’Dal. The foyer of the tower is a large, circular room with three glowing teleport platforms stationed beneath the respective banners of each of the magical guilds. A young apprentice must step upon the teleport pad that is beneath the banner of their corresponding study to reach their appropriate study hall and guild master.

Niola Impholder:
Niola Impholder is the magician representative on the arcane council. She often sends her students on menial tasks such as the gathering of magical components for the more experienced magicians. This practice is not to degrade the pupils, but to enhance their understanding of the master/servant dynamic, as they will one day summon a variety of creatures into servitude.

Kinool Goldsinger:
The enchanter on the Keepers of the Art is Kinool Goldsinger, Kinool grants his pupils many freedoms compared to the other masters, believing that too many rules would hinder their creative application of enchantments. This, however, does not mean that Kinool is a lenient teacher. While the most dedicated and apt are well-rewarded, he can also be highly critical of his student’s progress.

Tarker Blazetoss
Tarker Blazetoss represents the art of wizardry on the council. Tarker is blunt in speech, manner, and instruction, keeping his lessons short, and offering his wizardry pupils much time for study and contemplation. Taker is an ideal mentor for the art of wizardry, which requires discipline, and intense study to safely practice, and does not require the leadership skills of a magician, or the creativity and social graces of an enchanter.