Category Archives: Ethernere


Glory to the Silver Reaper! Within his cloak all upon this mortal world, with cognizance of self, will be enveloped and delivered to Ethernere. Fear not this transition of our souls, my pack. Be you children of Serilis, Marr, Cazic, Veeshan, Bristlebane, Innoruuk, or other, you will find yourself in a locale that holds meaning. It may be where you were born, where you lived, where you died, where you met your lover, at your ancestral den, or for those that champion for the downtrodden – where you are needed. From there you may travel through Ethernere, as you wish. Be warned though! If you fight this transition, if you cling to your life within crude flesh, you will suffer within the Reaper’s realm. Denial will place blinders upon you, and raging against it will surely drive you mad. But those that are hearty and hold the desire to venture, are not chained to any particular location within Ethernere.

* Priestess of the Silver Reaper
Source: https://forums.station.sony.com/eq2/index.php?threads/only-humans-and-other-fair-folk-in-the-ethernere-it-seems.536613/#post-5935007
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The Case of the Ursa Rhym


I have been assigned by Lady Alethea Jyleel to investigate the tragedy of the fairiefolke living within the Gully of the Ursa Rhym. The rhym seem to be a type of fairy about the size of a firefly, if not smaller. These rhym gather the information of the environment around them like a sponge absorbs water. This information is then processed and emitted in a melody that few outside of the rhym can decipher. In this case, Lady Alethea is capable of reading the melodies of these tiny fairies.
I managed to locate the Gully of the Ursa Rhym within a western crag in the Greater Faydark, on the way to Steamfont Mountains. The gully used to be a magical little village where numerous rhym buzzed about in melody, but the melody is no more. I have discovered the rhym village in disarray and destruction. The little village was ruined through dark magic, this is quite evident from the arcane smoke and unyielding flames that now consume the habitat.

Unable to properly decipher the clues before me, I was forced to enlist the aid of the legendary sleuth, Inspector Berlok Beeglesnoop. The great inspector told me that I could become an investigator myself should I acquire the three volume Investigator Guidelines, penned by the master detective himself. Although, in his old age, he would not offer me these valuable manuscripts, I was able to pry a few hints as to where I might find these books. Through an illogical and often frustrating conversation with the inspector, I was able to deduce that the books could be found in Felwithe.

Amidst the madness that now envelopes the once honorable city of Felwithe, I would find the Investigative Guidelines needed to become great detective. My first trial led me to the grove of a great tree. There could be found the fluttering pages of one of the books, ripped from the binder I found earlier. The second book would be found within a submerged chest, magically locked. Following the clues on the chest, I managed to unlock it. The final book would rest in the hands of a soul that now walks the fields of Ethernere. Luckily, I discovered a ritual that would allow me to call forth the spirit of General Jyleel, a great ancestor to Lady Alethea Jyleel.

Having read the Investigative Guidelines, I have grasped the thought process and guidelines of a great detective. I returned to the Gully and the Ursa Rhym to see if I could procure any bit of new evidence. What I found amidst the carnage of the tiny fairy village was a flaming pawn, a chess piece. The flames are clearly magical in nature and not the dark magic that existed everywhere else in the village. Before they met their demise,. the rhym left this clue for me… for anyone. What does it mean? It is merely a flaming pawn resting just a bit away from the chessboard it once called home.

I have gathered some evidence in the charred area known as the Broken Fields in Butcherblock Mountains. The bits of evidence appear to be the battered remnants of daggers and shields. These remnants must have taken great damage and not by an ordinary force. I could tell by the scorch marks and the condition of the metal that this was the result of dark magic. There may be someone around these Broken Fields that can shed some light on my findings. Perhaps they may have even been a witness to this carnage.

I spoke to a talking rat named Chypp, last ‘p’ silent. He was a witness to the conflict that created the ruin that is now the Broken Fields. It appears as though a secret meeting occurred here where one group of brutes and evil grins passed along a magical sword to another group of brutes and evil grins. It is my belief that the brutes were orcs and by the evidence collected, they are Ree orcs from the Commonlands. These Ree orcs brought the magic sword to another group that then betrayed, using the gift to destroy the couriers. I believe it is time to travel to the Commonlands and gather information where the Ree orcs keep hidden from the Overlord and Freeport.

I collected a lot of evidence that has led me to the conclusion that the dark elves allied with the Ree orcs are none other than the Ebon Mask. I have heard tales of old about this old house of thieves that hailed from the Teir’Dal city of Neriak. They were said to be some of the craftiest thieves on Norrath and excellent assassins also. Apparently, they did not die with the collapse of their city. The Raiders of Ree are orcs removed from their empire, this I have learned. They now live for the heavy coin of the black marker. What would bring a band of opportunistic orcs and a dark elf thieves house together? More evidence is required.

I have found that the Ebon Mask worked alongside the orcs in an expedition to a hidden valley where the soul of Zarvonn is contained for eternity. This ancient mage was once a member of the Academy of the Arcane Science. I am not sure what the spirit of Zarvonn knew, but a spirit that hailed from one of the greatest mage guilds on Norrath most likely holds many secrets. His secret had something to do with the flaming sword that was rushed to Faydwer and used against the courier force of the Ree and Ebon Mask. Such a secret would reveal much about the sword, its origin and where it now resides. Such revelations could only be held by the leader of this eccentric pack of orcs.

While investigating the throne room of the leader of the orcs, I was forced into battle. Lord Ree and his minions were foolish to challenge me. In the end, they met their demise. After the battle I found what appeared to be a book detailing a heist for a “Sword.” Unfortunately, the pages had been ripped out. I was them ambushed by Teir’Dal agents of the Ebon Mask, supreme rogues of the now defunct Thex Dynasty. I was forced to do battle or end up another notch in their belt. They have their best, but in the end, I emerged victorious. as they fell to the floor, the ripped pages from the heist journal flew into the air. Perhaps the pages will finally explain what this caper was all about.

Soulfrire was stolen from Freeport. The mastermind behind the heist was the Foci of the Academy of Arcane Science. She hired agents of the Ebon Mask to infiltrate the citadel via a forgotten portal left open by one of the original engineers of the fortress when it was known as the Academy of Arcane Science. The Ebon Mask hired the Raiders of Ree, opportunistic orcs. Using Ree smuggling routes, they transported Soulfire to Butcherblock Mountains. There the sword would be traded for a scroll desired bu the Foci, but a betrayal occurred and the Ree and Ebon Mask couriers were slain. All i know now is that an ambassador king was the one that betrayed the heist.

I exchanged information with Lady Alethea Jyleel of the Order of Marr. I handed over my notes, but kept this case journal for my records. According to Lady Alethea, the Overlord of Freeport was not fooled by a false sword that replaced Soulfire in the vaults of Dethknell Citadel. He has ordered his finest agents to recover the great sword. Together we discovered that it was a band of Lucanic Knights that razed the Gully of the Ursa Ryhm. If that is so, then the Overlord is one step ahead of the Order of Marr.

Lady Alethea bid me farewell, knowing that such a great crusade as this cannot be left to anyone other than her ancient order of knights. I have taken her reward for my deed, but I cannot shake the mystery behind Soulfire. Where is it and why is it so important to anyone other than the Overlord of Freeport? Perhaps is I can discover who this ambassador king is someday, I can reveal the secret of Soulfire. As for this investigation, the Case of the Ursa Rhym is closed… but the Case of the Soulfire Sword is soon approaching.

The Case of the Lost Lute


The Case of the Ayonic Lute
I have begun to develop a fascination with a magical lute called the Ayonic Lute. While passing through the Thundering Steppes I happened upon a curious bard by the name of Maestra Orlita. She was a ruling member of a miniscule quintet of bards that call themselves the Chaos Orchestra. Having piqued my interest in eccentric quintets, I decided to seek out the four remaining bards of this orchestra. What I found were two lyricists in Qeynos Harbor and two within East Freeport. Offering little save ancient songs, the lyricists went on to ignore me and force their out of tune melody upon the citizens of the great empires of man. If I were to find out anything more about the Chaos Orchestra, it would be in city records.

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

I found the “belly of a giggling fish.” To be more precise, I found the theater of the Laughing Trout, a tavern in Rivervale. I found a peculiar xylophone made from bones, the hagralaphone. This curious musical device emanated with arcane power. I discovered that the hagralaphone was made by woodworkers from Bogbottom Mills. Tracking down the halfling shop was an easy enough task, but it was overrun with goblins. I did find the descendant and current owner of Bogbottom Mills, Camfred. He told me that his ancestors created the hagralaphone out of the bones of an evil troll witch named Hagralazoo. They did this by order of the legendary bard, Vhalen.

I journeyed to Antonica to find the Bell Tower of Vhalen. It is there that Vhalen fell to a great horde of undead. It is in the ancient tower that I spoke to the vision of Vhalen, a projection of the bard that now is bound to Ethernere. He said that Hagralazoo, the troll witch and arch nemesis of Rivervale, had taken the cursed Ayonic Axe from the Chaos Orchestra as they fled Katta Grove. She tricked them into destroying themselves in a final concert. She then used the axe and its bardic powers to begin a series of secret concerts in which she would collect the valuables from the deceased audience and the unwitting bard whom she tricked into wielding the melodic axe.

The vision of Vhalen said, Hagralazoo lost the axe to an unwitting accomplice, Kelkarn. She had hoped the bard could assist her in completing an arcane composition that she had stolen from the mysterious sage, the Drafling. The composition could remove the curse from the axe, allowing the witch to use it. However, the composition was incomplete. Kelkarn was a well known bard and the troll witch came to him on a misty road during his many travels. In the guise of an old crone, Hagralazoo persuaded the bard to display his talents. She then gave him the Drafling composition and asked him to complete it. If he did, the Ayonic Axe could be his- a lie!

These words have yet to reveal themselves to you.

Hagralazoo never made it back in time to recover the Ayonic Axe thanks to the Drafling. When she did, she found the axe was removed. It vanished via the black market auctions of Freeport. Vhalen was able to find the Ayonic Axe and hide it. As luck would have it, the Drafling was an asssociate of his! Vhalen requested the remains of Hagralazoo be used to create the Hagralaphone. The unique xylophone could summon the troll witch back so that she could reveal the composition that Kelkarn completed. Many years living in the land between life and death may persuade the troll witch to reveal the location to Vhalen or another bard such as myself.

Shepherd of the Celestial Watch


Seeress Ealaynya Ithis’s Holy Calling

Back when the gods had been silent for ages and the suffering people of Norrath huddled together for refuge, faith seemed destined to die. It was during this time that a young child by the name of Ealaynya Ithis started to exhibit clairvoyance and experience prophetic dreams. Even the most skeptical villagers were convinced when the young Ealaynya led hunters to a crying child, having been lost for nearly a week.

She began to lead the village gatherers to hard found resources. Her retelling of her visions comforted them at the fireside. She had earned the praise of her village and brought a glimmer of faith to their forsaken lives. How could they keep such a child’s gift to their selves? She was like the harbinger of faith within this realm. Qeynos would be her pulpit!

They abandoned their village for the city of Qeynos. There they discovered the once grand Temple of Life, nearly abandoned. The temple that awaited Ealaynya paled in comparison to the one she had beheld in her visions. Only a few acolytes of the Prime Healer remained and the temple rested in near ruins. The beauty of the Pool of Jahnda that once held the majestic koalindl, fish from the Plane of Tranquility, was now dingy and empty of life. The acolytes would not listen to the villagers’ claims, dismissing them as beggars looking for refuge in their sacred hall.

As the villagers and the acolytes argued, Ealaynya walked silently to that cart that held her belongings. She rummaged through and reached far into a niche, having to stand on her toes to reach her prize. Her hands slowly emerged from the darkness grasping a glass bowl. Within the bowl was a small, colorful fish. It has been a year ago that alone; she had found her way to a tiny pond in which a single colorful fish swam within the clear, warm water. She carried the fish back to the village and fed it a morsel of bread everyday, until this day.

Ealaynya walked to the edge of the murky water of the once grand Pool of Jahnda. She began to pour the contents of the fish bowl slowly into the pool. The stream of water hit the film and broke the plane of algae on the pool’s surface. Upon hearing this, the acolytes ran toward her screaming for her to cease her blasphemous action. Ealaynya was deaf to their cries. As they neared her the tiny, colorful fish was carried through the stream of water and swam into the blackness of the pool.

The acolytes grabbed the girl’s arms and were about to hand her some retribution for her deed when they were distracted by something miraculous! Looking to the pool all present gazed as the cloudy water began to clear around the fish. This circle of pristine water radiated out from the fish dissolving all that was foul within this sacred pool. The Pool of Jahnda was returned to its glory and a single fish, a koalindl, swam within its life giving water!

Ealaynya rejuvenated the temple and its acolytes. The cleansing of the pool was the beginning of the girl’s life amongst by the acolytes, and the villagers had become their new congregation. Ealaynya began to have new visions and share them with the temple. Through her visions they came to realize they were to unify the faith of the gods of light. They renamed their order the Celestial Watch.

They began to preach to the people and aid those in need. Small crusades led them into the wilds to perform benevolent actions as they used to ages before the gods were silenced. Seasons passed and eventually Ealaynya grew into a beautiful woman and the spiritual leader of the Celestial Watch. She became the Seeress Ealaynya Ithis, a beacon of faith, Shepherd of the Celestial Watch.

But she was destined to become more than simply a shepherd. As gods of old have reappeared Seeress Ealaynya has continued to see her visions and prophecies come true. She reassured those that expressed fear or grief over the Prime Healer’s absence that all is part of a grand plan. “It is not our place to question the wisdom of fate, nor that of the Prime Healer. The darkest of night is when light is most welcome!”

If there was any question about her faith in a grand plan it was dismissed on the day the Temple of Life disappeared! In the blink of an eye, all who were within the holy temple, save Seeress Ealaynya, now found themselves outside, watching awestruck as it increased its rotation speed and disappeared. There at the edge of the Pool of Jahnda they camped, in prayer and meditation waiting.

A day later, the Temple of Life reappeared with the same ease with which it left. When its rotation speed slowed, the portal reappeared to allow entry and exit from the floating temple. But no priest, priestess, nor acolyte would enter. They knew they were witness to something of legend, something truly miraculous! They awaited a sign from their Holy Seeress that they would once again, enter the site.

Seeress Ealaynya Ithis emerged from the temple washed in light! She consoled those distraught, and praised all for their faith, stating that she had touched The Holy, and been within the presence of The Prime Healer! She was blessed, and now so was all of Norrath, for Rodcet Nife’s Prophet walks amongst us!

I, Ealaynya Ithsis, Seeress, Shepherd and chosen prophet to the most selfless of the supreme deities, Rodcet Nife, having been made aware of my limited time within this glorious realm, through a vision of my demise, felt an explanation and further guidance may be sought after I have been escorted to Ethernere. Seek it, and you shall find guidance and prophecy.

Granted is a key when Rodcet is hooked and released.

Bound words are found supporting Weagleross down below.

Seeress Ealaynya Ithis’s Prophecies: Book Three


The hidden and that which is to come.
I, Ealaynya Ithis, Seeress, Shepherd and prophet to the most selfless of the supreme deities, Rodcet Nife, having been made aware of my limited time within this glorious realm, through a vision of my demise, felt an explanation and further guidance may be sought after I have been escorted to Ethernere.

I wished not to reveal my inevitable end to my flock nor fellow believers, as they would have locked me behind guard and protection spells in an attempt to secure my life. The great work that I was to fulfill, the preparation of all for the coming of dark times and struggles, would have been hindered. Such preparation was much more important than my single life!

Do not be distraught by my passing, nor question our merciful Prime Healer’s glorious return. This was but a step along the path towards his return to our realms! It was neither his doing nor his plan that it occur, but it was unavoidable.

The oblivion beyond the veil, dark and ravenous encroaches upon Norrath. A torrent unleashed will be felt by gods and mortals, alike. Many, like yourself, will be witness to it. Few will be prepared enough to stop it.

Chaos and mourning rules when the sword resides where the heart should be.
The contested lady under the waves guides those to growth.
The shrouded union of dead and dark doth stir a pot most turbulent.
Naught gone where others must follow to meet oblivion.
In the grip of claws are songs of truth and guidance never sung.
Though the moons may glow beautifully, it is the sun that grants them their shine.
The tomb of the hound hides the prism of a timeless betrayer.
The secret crypt of the hand of Enoxus leads to the fallen three.
The fate of a spurned daughter is threatened with princely plans of vengeance.
~ Seeress Ealaynya Ithis

Ollg’s Memoirs


I heard the sky crack. I felt the ground shake. I smelled the scent of charred metal. We all did. As I watched it streak across the sky, I knew what it was. We all did. Some rejoiced immediately, some stood in awe, some tried to run after it. I stared in disbelief. Whatever the reason, he did not belong here.
I tried to speak with the general. He will not listen. I’ve heard the talk about the Warlord coming to conquer Ethernere, but I can’t help but wonder why. He has his own war fields. He has his own perpetual battles to watch. Ethernere is not the domain of war, in spite of how many might come here as a result of it.

There is something wrong. The very air feels different. There is something terribly wrong, but no one sees it. I talked to some others, and they believe it to be the coming of war. They believe that Drinal is tightening up his forces to keep Rallos at bay. Yes we have not seen our Warlord. He has not emerged from the sea. I do not believe he is here to conquer.
The Horde sits just outside the shore, seemingly unable to cross onto the land. The others believe that they are too afraid, but I do not see fear in their movements. I see an impatient waiting. They are waiting for something, although I cannot say what that might be. It is clear, though, that if they had their way, they would be attacking Oggok.

I have thought about the Warlord’s arrival at length. I believe his coming here was not his choice. To admit this, however, is to admit something far graver – that the Warlord has fallen, and has fallen for good. Even thinking that defies everything I believe and have believed my entire life. But I must admit what I see with my own eyes. The Warlord has been defeated.
I have made enemies. No one wants to hear what I have to say. Every day they make more weapons, more banners. They are ready to march in the name of War. Why can’t they see, Ethernere already suffers. I can’t explain why or how, but I can feel it I believe that is why the Horde masses at the shores, why Ethernere seems to be at unease. They will not listen, and they will make matters worse.

They are coming for me. I don’t know what they are planning. But I will not flee. I will make a final attempt to make them see reason, but it will fail. I will stand before them, and try to fend off the inevitable. I fear that nothing can stop what has been set in motion. I pray I am wrong.

Nerlug’s Escape


These are the words of Nerlug, Ogre, Gullybasher. I sit atop a tree, taking in the view, hoping that while I can see out of my leafy sanctuary, the Horde cannot see their way in. I put these words to paper because this place bears witnessing, and perhaps by organizing my though., I can find a way of truly escaping my pursuers. If I cannot, then at least I can rest knowing that someone is reading my words at this very moment. Rallos may get his due, but I will not be forgotten.This Horde. They are aggressive, single minded, and for every one I slay, I find two more on my trail. Here in Ethernere, I should not be. The Horde do not want me in this place. In my death, I should go home, to the Plane of War, to Rallos’ side. But forgive me, I fear. I am as terrifying in battle as my brothers, I have crushed skulls with my bare hands, but war for war’s sake I cannot understand. I argued with my brothers. I used reason when they would use a blade. And for this lapse of faith I will pay. It seems that this Horde will not stop until I go home. Until I meet my maker.

I will not go willingly.

The orafik seem to be key. They sit there, motionless. They blink from time to time. They are always watching, these floating monstrosities of an eye. If I can evade them I can escape. I throw a rock, off to the side, away from my position. The three who float there pivot and scream. Oh do they scream. My ears bleed, and I try to sneak away during their distraction. I can hear the patter of the Skirth’s violence through the underbrush. I move quickly, soft as my form will let me.

I am safe.They have no language I can discern. Except for the screaming. The eyes scream and the others come running. That scream unnerves me. My heart beats too fast and I fear. Rallos must weep for me. They act in concert, as one. A single being, but multiple. They are organized, each has its role. Like an army, they have scouts and shock troopers and infantry and cavalry. I can fight one, two, three. I can smash them, and dismember them, and make them bleed.

But still. They come. Rallos may get his due.

Those dead at my feet, there are those who call them skirth. I do not know if they call themselves skirth. It is an appropriate name, for if you saw them move, if you heard them move, you might call them skirth too. Not quite quadruped, their limbs are ungainly, as much spider as ape. They are the footsoldiers of the Horde, but each has their specialty.
They are legion.There are beings who are not the Horde here. They are passersby, they are those who have not moved on yet, they are those like me. No one here is permanent, save for the Horde. While I can talk with these folk, and reason with them, and ask them questions, the Horde who Harrows indulge in no such thing. While these folk are transient, aimless, wandering, the Horde is purpose in the flesh, principal personified.

These folk do not want me here. I bring unwanted attention. The Horde has my scent, they can *feel* me, and the folk do not want me here. I leave. I do not want them to suffer my fate, for I begin to believe I cannot win. There is no loophole. The laws here are inevitable.

I am alone.But that is a lie. I have forgotten what it means to be truly alone. How I long for it. Instead, they follow me, relentless. Always present, shadowy, as much there as not there. My recent follower; the tirun. They are the enforcers of the Horde, the two handed claymore, their machine of war. One of them is a match for me. Two can back me into a corner. At three, I run.

I can find no weakness in the Horde. I wonder if these are Rallos’ true children. He would be as proud of them as he must be disappointed in me. If someone could harness them, remove them from Ethernere, they could trample the world. And yet, I do not think they hate. I simply should not be here, and so they will not stop until I am not here. It is not malice in their eye, it is determination.A new one follows. This one is… familiar. It has arms, legs. It is more… formed. It could be described as humanoid. I am humanoid. It puts words into my head. It is like a general. It is like the Horde’s head. It feels… sympathy? It makes it difficult to think. I may have fought him. Did I win?

Again, I run.

How long have I been here: My name… it is Nelug. I write it so I will not forget. I will not be forgotten. That name, is it still mine? No one calls it. It does not feel as if it belongs to me. I am Nerlug, but that is not me. I am hollow.They follow now, but do not pursue. I am no longer whole. I grasp this book, and yet it falls through my hands. Writing is difficult. Thinking is moreso. I want to sleep. To rest. I wonder why they do not come.

The eyes no longer scream, at least.

I have read this book. I have read that my name was Nerlug. I have read that I was afraid.

Dear readers, know that this is no longer so. I have found my place. Know that Ethernere is not your home. You may rest here a while, but do not tarry. Continue on your journey or I will come for you. I will find you.

And if you will not go, we will take you.

My Journey to Harrow’s End


They who have heard of the Unkempt Druid, think us nothing but zealots, but their ignorance transcends the planes, even in Ethernere, our new home, forever under the shade of the Lord of Graves.The worst of them is Wegadas, for he is their leader, their father. I will follow him closely as he spews his drivel to those who would call themselves the Augurs of her. They must see the light in death. The ways of the Unkempt Warders has no place here. I will see to it.

Cardin Ward is upon us. These Wayward act comfortable within its walls, but I see the worry in their faces. Drinal’s Harrowing Horde has been released upon them, as was required. Ethernere is becoming overcrowded with this Wayward plague who must be eradicated.Wegadas has promised them protection. I laugh as they fall for his ranting, as though his Writ of the Wild and Tunare can protect them from Drinal. Do they not see? They are bound within Ethernere! If they would accept that fact, accept Drinal, then he would embrace them, and call back the Horde.

I know where I stand. The Harrowing Horde do not frighten me. They pass me by and feast only upon their intended prey. I have shown this to the Wayward in Cardin Ward, particularly those who now follow Wegadas. Most are blind, but to a few I have proved that to follow Wegadas is to follow a life of a runaway. A nomad with no home, not even a temporary one.Even camped outside the safety of Cardin Ward they cannot feel safe. My section of camp has not lost a single among us. The Augurs of Ulter, both those that recently converted and Wegadas’s original followers, have taken notice. They will soon choose right from wrong. And when they do, I will accept them.

My followers grow while the number of Augurs wane. Wegadas is beginning to feel threatened by my presence, fueled by the ever-increasing threat of the Harrowing Horde. Now a new threat, at least to the Augurs, is upon them. The Gehein have emerged. I have heard of their kind. Those who volunteered their souls for the Horde.It is a calling similar to mine own, but Drinal will see that unlike the Gehein, I seek to spread his will to others through my teachings of the Unkempt Druids. I have continued to update this philosophy, molded it to Ethernere, to death and chaos.

When we reached the camp of Wayward erudites, Wegadas fell sick. It was a turning point for many of his followers. Through our journey, so many of them were taken by the Harrowing Horde, yet none had that followed my path of the Unkempt Druids.And now they see their leader sick and nearly dying. We have all eaten the same foods, drank from the same waters, yet he is the only one. It must be Drinal. He is watching. He has sensed a blasphemer in his realm and has punished this would-be prophet!

The erudite have cared for him. In their battles with the Gehein and their pathetic attempt to restore the Ulteran spires, they somehow brought Wegadas back to health. I had hoped his remaining disciples would see him succumb to an illness no one else among us acquire. I !mow that Wegadas cannot truly die in Ethernere…or can he? I have heard a man in camp speaking to others about his visit within the walls of Harrow’s End. I confronted this Augur of Ulter.Indeed, he claims. He has been to see Drinal himself. With great need the path became clear to him. That is how he entered. One-for-one he says. A deal for a deal. That is how he was able to leave. Those that choose a deal for no deal are chained within Harrow’s End for an eternity. I will speak with this man further about this. I wish to speak with my god personally.

I now lead these people. Wegadas has been left a follower himself, along with but a dozen or so that still cling to his side. He should see his cause is lost, yet he clings to us. For safety, for the hope to bring us all back to the ways of the Unkempt Warders, I do not know, nor do I care.I should just destroy him. Be rid of this pestilence from our presence once and for all, but I have decided to show him what it means to be an Unkempt Druid. He will soon be converted, and the last of the Augurs of Ulter will be wiped from Ethernere forever.

I can feel my god’s call. I am ashamed to admit, but I was deaf and blind to it. I was obsessed with simply following Wegadas, and bringing his followers to their knees before me. But now that I have taken the lead, what felt like an aimless trek has turned into a pilgrimage.I have learned all that I needed from the man who claims to have seen Drinal himself. He knows these ways. We are indeed getting closer to the Silver Reaper’s home. Soon I will be at its doorsteps. Soon I will be at Drinal’s feet, and he will hear the words of the Unkempt Druids.

I can see the tips of Harrow’s End from where I stand, on the outskirts of this camp of lujiens. They have already killed three of us. Their souls have not returned, so I do not know where they have reformed. If they are true followers of my ways, they will find it safely to the Dreary Coast. Our final destination before I enter Harrow’s End. But first, these lujiens and their camp must be passed. Wegadas speaks of them highly, at least about the lujien he shared the Valley of the Dawn with in his mortal life.He nearly lost his own head to them, thinking these few would know his name. They are dangerous, yes, but I have a great respect for these lujien. They are said to be mirror images of Drinal, perhaps even his own creations. They are wholly, even blindly, devoted to Drinal. So much so that they only allow a select to enter their sanctuary. I would follow them myself, but I have a greater calling. A calling to lead.

We have arrived on the outskirts of my god’s home! The Whittled Woodlot is surrounded by lush cypress trees and beautiful, serene ponds. I have decided to live out the rest of my days here in the shadow of Harrow’s End, near the dock which once was used to shepherd souls to their gods’ realms.Those days are over, though, for Drinal is the one true god, and Ethernere is the one true plane. I shall remain here, awaiting Wayward who would think to leave, and introduce to them the ways of the Unkempt Druids. We shall destroy the non-believers! We will use their souls as nourishment for the land!

Beyond the Rune


Notes by Lord Rikantus Everling
The greatest prisons are those we make for ourselves. My prison begins with my love of my daughters. My beloved daughters have been slaughtered by the accursed guardians that once cared for them. These six were once bound to my family by their curse, but the stench of betrayal is strong within this manor and such villainy soon sets into all who dwell within. Betrayal became necessary to acquire the wondrous artifacts of my family and betrayal will tear us apart and piece us back together in the shape of blasphemy.

My daughters have been cut and my sentries have fallen to blades. In this bloodbath I am imprisoned, never able to leave. No door could be opened, no window broken down. How such magic could be wielded by Pelleas is beyond my understanding. But there I found myself, alone in a house of death. But I am an Everling and the gift of the occult is my trade. I can find a way to save my daughters because I have studied with the House of Varsoon and have heard the name of Ethernere.

Ethernere is said to be a place where the dead go before they are allowed into the eternal halls of the pantheons. It is not a plane as we know planes to be. This is a dimension, a realm that exists all around us, in this space and not. Here in Ethernere is where I knew I could find my daughters and return them to the land of the living. I raced to gather my research notes taken from my time with Varsoon. These notes will craft my path and allow me to rescue my beloved daughters.

Key among Varsoon’s research was the ancient rune. It had no name, for it existed long before names. It was an ancient whisper from times unknown, but it is what he believes to be the first key to Ethernere. At the time, his goals in Ethernere were not mine, but it was a path to the unknown, the stock of my trade. We studied notes and studied the rune, a peculiar glyph rules by what looked like two intersecting triangles. Eventually, this time of research ended in failure, or so I thought. Reports soon told me that Varsoon lied and he had breached the barricades of Ethernere.

That was then and now I am placed within the blood soaked castle. It was at this time that I knew my notes could be deciphered and a way to Ethernere could be made. If I could reach such a place then I could retrieve the souls of my daughters before they moved on to eternal realms. Having done my studying, I realized I needed to piece my daughters back together. Employing my art in flesh constructs, I went about sewing together the parts of my beloved daughters. The creations were not as accurate as I had hoped, but would be sufficient as vessels until I could acquire new ones.

Performing the final steps of the arcane ritual, I began to realize that I am about to enter the realm between death’s door and the eternal gates. But I was wrong. The research undergone so very long ago within the Keep of Immortality was flawed. It was either flawed or Lord Varsoon had fed me lies on purpose. I believed the latter at first, but soon realized it would be near impossible to corrupt every one of my notes. Perhaps the destination was not the one we believed it to be. Perhaps is no more, as I soon learn.

Through powerful rituals I have opened a gateway to the unknown, a gateway to oblivion. I set foot upon the surface of a rock hurtling through a maelstrom of astronomical anomalies. I see the emptiness around me filled with flotsam and jetsam made of other hunks of rock. All is being sucked towards a blinding center as if we were in a universal whirlpool. The rocky moons about me seem lifeless, but the one I am atop is different. A tower rises from this lifeless rock. Could this be Ethernere and could this be the mythical Deathtoll Belltower? It was not.

The tower was crackling with arcane forces. The sound created boomed across the silence of this world, feeling as though it could destroy the ears of a god. Massive streams of energy burst out of the top of the tower and arced off into the void. I noticed something that nearly was lost among the many wonders. This place is close to the center of the vortex universe, but somehow fighting the speed of other bodies around it. I wondered if the arcs of light were anchoring it down in some fashion, anchoring it to what?

Having no where to go, I ventured forth towards the tower. The walk was much longer than I had estimated. The rocky terrain made the journey far more difficult as well. Luckily, I happened upon a stairwell. The brickwork was amazing and the minerals used unknown. I decided that the stairwell was just as safe as the tower and being so close, I descended. I may have chosen wrong, the descent was long, longer than the trek to the tower would have been. Suddenly, it ended and I found myself within a massive cavern.

Inside the titanic cavern I could see another tower far off across the uneven landscape. The air was brilliant and blue. Dazzling lights danced about this air as if they were schools of fish. I could see swirling vortices of arcane origins bursting forth from high on the cavern walls. Suddenly, I heard a rumbling sound. I hid. Peeking out from behind my rocky refuge I spotted a large lumbering beast. This beast was like a massive burly minotaur with eyes of red that pierced the darkness. I turned to sneak back up the stairwell, but there was no stairwell!

Having no where to retreat to, I was forced to trudge onward. I darted from shadow to shadow, outcropping to outcropping. I managed to elude the horned behemoths and draw closer to the tower, the only place I could see as a possible release to this mystery. Looking at the tower I noticed something very eerie etched onto its crown, the rune that brought me here! There atop this tower in a realm unknown was the same symbol that Varsoon had chased. It was this rune that brought us here, or did it call?

Varsoon and I traded knowledge gathered from history and across Norrath. We believed this to be a passage to Ethernere, but was it truly? Neither of us could say for sure unless we ever made it here, and here I am. Did Varsoon also find this place? The ethereal chain that bound me to Norrath tugged tight. I must find my answers soon or be forced to return empty handed, never seeing my beloved daughters again. I must enter the tower and find my answers if they do exist. Enter I did.

(The final page contains two sketches of two runes. They appear as follows: 1. The Rune of Ethernere – There is an image of two triangles turned upon each other and intersecting to create a diamond at the center. 2. The Rune of Sunder – There is an image of a swirling line such as a whirlpool would create when viewed overhead or a spiraled serpent. The Rune of Sunder has a hurried note scribbled in blood over it. “Look to the stone of the Shissar.”)

Priestess of the Silver Reaper


Glory to the Silver Reaper! Within his cloak all upon this mortal world, with cognizance of self, will be enveloped and delivered to Ethernere. Fear not this transition of our souls, my pack. Be you children of Serilis, Marr, Cazic, Veeshan, Bristlebane, Innoruuk, or other, you will find yourself in a locale that holds meaning. It may be where you were born, where you lived, where you died, where you met your lover, at your ancestral den, or for those that champion for the downtrodden – where you are needed. From there you may travel through Ethernere, as you wish. Be warned though! If you fight this transition, if you cling to your life within crude flesh, you will suffer within the Reaper’s realm. Denial will place blinders upon you, and raging against it will surely drive you mad. But those that are hearty and hold the desire to venture, are not chained to any particular location within Ethernere.

* Priestess of the Silver Reaper