Category Archives: Tunare

Child of Innoruuk


You say, ‘Hail Zyrria I`Vanres’

Zyrria I`Vanres narrows her eyes as she briefly but carefully studies the Wolf Elemental before her. A look of irritation crosses her features as she exhales slowly in a faint growl. ‘Yes? State your business, Kaylorn . One such as I has not the time for idle and pointless conversation. There are much more [meaningful tasks] to which of my esteemed position and power of skills must attend.’

You say, ‘What about meaningful tasks’

Zyrria I`Vanres raises her brow sharply, her beautiful features twisting in disgust and surprise. ‘Are you to say that you do not recognize who and what I am? I am Zyrria I`Vanres of the Ebon Mask, sent here by my master, Tani N`Mar. Within Neriak, I am second to only him in rank and power, although I chose not to dabble in the political affairs that have abound in our city, thus why I am not widely recognized. My place lies elsewhere – in the shadows. I am a rogue, after all; a keeper of secrets and a bargainer with chance. Despite this location, tainted with the disgusting stench of the Fier`Dal, Tani has made quite an intelligent decision in sending me here to [observe]. It is most pleasing to have one recognize my talents and put them to an important use.’

You say, ‘What about observe’

Zyrria I`Vanres says ‘The forest, not to dodge the most abase of answers. Much of [great interest] to the Ebon Mask has occurred here in these past days. In fact, so interesting that I believe I might be so lucky as to gain council with the [Child of Innoruuk] regarding my reports here.

You say, ‘what about great interest’

Zyrria I`Vanres says ‘Not too long ago, the powers of The Faceless touched these lands. In his wake, he left behind some… things of interest. Alterations to the frail nature of this area, if you will. All of which seems rather trivial for a divine power of his stature and following, but amusing none the less. What has been done to the [precious maiden unicorn] is by far the most pleasing news I have had in many years.

You say, ‘what about precious maiden unicorn’

Zyrria I`Vanres smiles wickedly as her eyes light with a sadistic amusement. Equestrielle, a creature that was said to be closest to Tunare in its creation and existence. A being that represents purity, faith, honor, and life. No more does she show such things, as she is now a being of Cazic-Thule’s will. How marvelous, is it not? There are some I know who find it most tragic. A forest filled with sobbing fair elves! Hahaha! And to think, this greatest wonder came from the hand of Firiona Vie herself! It is a pity that one cannot obtain the horn as the champion carries it with her, but I believe I could make do without. Bring me two hides of a blighted mare and two enchanted platinum bars. They may not be Equestrielle herself, but they are steeds of The Faceless’s creation.

When you turn in the two blighted mare hides + 2 bars of enchanted plat you get a pack that has 30% weight reduction and holds medium items. Here is the text that follows…

Zyrria I`Vanres says ‘Excellent… oh, wait, damn. I can’t use these. The properties I was searching for seemed to have vanished in the death of the creature, although they are not entirely useless. I cannot let you go without reward, it would be a foolish loss of investment. Here, at least these hides should be of some use to someone. It is truly a pity that I cannot obtain Equestrielle’s horn. What glorious perversions we could create in furthering its corruption and pushing Tunare farther away from these lands/ Unfortunately for us, this is Cazic-Thule’s territory, and so [his minions] have come to lay claim to such spectacular finds.

Your faction standing with EbonMask got better.
Your faction standing with GuardsofQeynos got worse.
Your faction standing with WolvesoftheNorth got worse.
Your faction standing with GuardiansoftheVale gotworse.
Your faction standing with CarsonMcCabe got
worse.
You gain experience!!

You say, ‘what aboout his minions’

Zyrria I`Vanres says ‘There is one called Ytharisth Nerishar, an Iksar and supposed officer of the Cult of the Arisen. I have made attempts several times to make peace with him and bargain for researching territory, but he seems adamant about keeping all of this for himself and his people. Perhaps… no, no I would be asking too much of one as yourself, and although you have proven yourself worthy of being my loyal dog, I do not think you are quite the type to perform any acts of diplomacy.

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Bloodboil


You say, ‘Hail Talisyn Stormwing’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘Greetings, _____. You must forgive my rather [inhospitable mood] this day, if of course it comes forth to you in what speech we have.’

You say, ‘What about your inhospitable mood?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘ I am merely… troubled by the conditions of my change in stations. I once guarded Kelethin from the vile Crushbone Orcs, but it seems a new terror has arisen within our forests. It is the duty of a ranger, and I do not complain in the least, but the [mutilation and corruption] that slithers through the forest still brings a pain of anger to my heart.

You say, ‘What about the mutilation and corruption?’

Talisyn Stormwing furrows his troubled brow in confusion and surprise. ‘You need ask such a question and receive answers in the form of words to understand what it is that surrounds you, Danian? Have you neither heard nor seen the vile creatures that inhabit the putrid lands of Mistmoore to the south? Or have you not seen the creatures forged from the very shadows that lie not to far from our homelands? The Teir`Dal beasts that have made camp not too far from the entrance of Mistmoore’s lair? These evils, some ancient beyond our pilgrimage from Tunaria, have torn and marred these precious, beautiful forests. Unfortunately, a [greater evil] has descended, and thus my presence here.

You say, ‘What about the greater evil?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘Not too far in the recent past did Firiona Vie, the lovely and gracious Champion of Tunare, return to our homelands. In her return, she sought to bring forth the avatar of our sacred Mother to seek guidance on her path — the path of Elven Kind. Little did the Champion know that The Faceless was close at bay, and through means unknown, his power was greater than that of our sacred Mother’s. In a petty display of his new found power, the Lord of Fear [furthered the corruption] of these natural lands.

You say, ‘What furthered the corruption?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘I cannot say for sure, and neither can our elders. None know for certain how or why this was done. All we know is that [the beings that were closest to Tunare’s grace] were reaved from her grasp, and now roam as the undead or worse.

You say, ‘What about the beings that were closest to Tunare’s grace?’

Talisyn Stormwing closes his eyes and bows his head for a moment as if in mourning. ‘The Faerie Folk that called this place their home have been changed into unnatural monsters of Cazic’s will. They thirst for mortal blood and flesh, and have lost all innocent, grace, and reason that was once their existence. But they seem incomparable to [the greatest loss] to be turned in Cazic-Thule’s favor.

You say, ‘What is the greatest loss?’

Talisyn Stormwing raises his head, his features remaining solemn but stern. ‘Equestrielle, the maiden unicorn, was corrupted by The Faceless himself and through vile trickery, he convinced the angered and frightened Firiona to remove her horn to cease the spreading of the disease. In honor and regret, the Champion did so, but now that once beautiful and sacred being roams as a blood thirsty, uncaring monster who kills any and all mortal beings. She is why I was sent, as The Heartwood Master knew that any other would end her life in mercy or the others she would harm and thus he entrusted to me [these tasks].’

You say, ‘what about these tasks?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘I am here to observe, warn the travelers that would pass through these infected lands, and to gather what evidence that I can to further the research of the council of magics at Felwithe. However, as I am the only one that has been charged with such tasks, it has been quite difficult. I do not know if I can withstand seeing such destruction and chaos before even I find mercy to be the proper route. If only they would send [assistance], if only for a day.’

You say, ‘I will assist you’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘I would be eternally grateful for your company, _____ and your pledge to this cause. However, I cannot expect anything of you. If [you are sure] that you would be willing to aid all of the Faydark, then I will be willing to give forward what knowledge I have gathered thus far.’

You say, ‘I am sure’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘Then I thank you, _____, and the entire Faydark thanks you. I have been studying and gathering evidence of the [Frightlings], or the distorted Pixies. I have already given several specimens of these creatures to the researchers, but I have found a great use for them beyond research. If you can bring to me one of their every so tiny skulls, I will do all in my power to cleanse that object so that it may aid you further in the tasks of the forest.’

You say, ‘What about the frightlings?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘The Frightlings are what the corrupted Pixies have been calling themselves. I have found through my extensive scouting of the area that one called Bilewretch who acts as their leader. I have dreamed for many days now of his destruction at my bow, but unfortunately that would cause me to abandon my post, and leave myself vulnerable to attacks from the [Undead Sprites.] However, as you have pledged yourself to the cause, if you would bring me proof of Bilewretch’s destruction, I shall reward you greatly for your service.’

You say, ‘What about the undead sprites?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘They are the twisted monsters of what used to be the noble Faeries of the forest. Now, they are but fleshy beings that desire only to bring death for their dark amusements. As with the Frightlings, these unnatural beasts are lead by a fearsome creature that has named himself Bloodboil. Another despicable being that I wish to bring a swift death to, but cannot for fear of abandoning my post and failing my master. If you would be so brave and bring to me proof of this monster’s demise, your efforts will not go unrewarded.’

The History of the Fae


This is a history of the Fae. Its pages cannot be completed at one time, but must be gained through valor and experience.
Through my own experiences, I can gain knowledge and insight into the Fae.

Tunare, Goddess of nature, gave us life. As she walked through Greater Faydark, flowers sprung up beneath her feet. One of these flowers turned its face toward her as a heliotrope to the sun. “You are precious,” said Tunare, laughing and gently cupping the blossom in her hands. And so, the first Fae were formed of blossoms and Tunare’s laughter. That was the beginning of the Dream Ring, the first Ring in which the Fae realized that their lives were indeed precious.

Life was quiet for the Fae in those distant times. One of the Fae learned the language of the Feir’Dal, our brothers and sisters of Tunare. In time, all Fae learned some Feir’Dal words and added them to our own language, Faerlie. And Joleena took her new language skills into Kelethin, the city of the Feir’Dal. She lives amongst them for a time and when she returned, we made her our first Queen.

Our people had often lived in small bands, roving through the Faydarks. We recognized that we had much in common with the Feir’Dal, and so over time, many of the Fae migrated to live near the trees which formed its base. Many of the Fae died in the Burning Ring, when the armies of the War of Fay crossed the woods, burning everything before them.

Those who were not killed were horrified. We had never witnessed so much death and destruction! And though emissaries were sent to Felwithe, the Koada’Dal sent no help. Much of Greater Faydark and Kelethin were burned, yet the First Children did nothing. Instead, they closed themselves away once the War had ended. And so began the Ring of Sadness.

We helped the Feir’Dal rebuild Kelethin. Who else had they to turn to but the Fae? Queen Cydney oversaw our contributions, channeling our Fae magic to heal the trees and restore the Faydarks to beauty. We mourned, for Queen Cydney’s spirit bud, holding all her memories and experiences, was lost to us forever.

Each Fae is formed from the spirit bud of one of the ancestors. By maintaining the blossom, the Fae can reawaken its spirit and remember threads from the distant past. Many of us who can recall the Ring of Sadness prefer to remember the Quiet Ring that followed it instead, for the Age of War did not touch Kelethin until later.

As the gods seemed to withdraw from us, the Fae’s magical influences seemed to wane as well. Through we had moved away from Kelethin itself, remembering the Burning Ring, Queen Saphrina encouraged us to move back. “There are dark forces everywhere,” she said. “It will be safer for us to join with the Feir’Dal before it is too late.” And so we did, building a wall of brambles to keep the city safe.

The Crushbone orcs proved Queen Saphrina right – they took her life and destroyed her spirit bud. This was truly the First Ring of Chaos. Deterred by the thick brambles we had raised beneath the city, the orcs laid siege to Kelethin, never envisioning from which direction our help would come.

They crept in from Lesser Faydark, an army of brownies, and decimated the Crushbone orcs. They had never been our particular allies before, rescuing us had been incidental to their love of battle. Queen Jillian granted them the status “Friend of the Fae” from that moment onward. The siege was broken, yet the wars raging around us did not cease. Nor did the orcs let up their attempted assault on the city.

An uneasily peaceful time followed – the Ring of Leaving. In a very short span of time, we witnessed some of the remaining Feir’Dal and others leave Faydwer. They spoke of receiving a vision, a word from Tunare. And as time went on, we let the brambles protecting Kelethin dissipate as we moved into the city ourselves.

We thought that troubles times lay behind us now, yet the Ring of Trials had only begun. All around us the lands began to change, groaning and breaking apart. Built into the trees, Kelethin withstood the trembling earth below. We felt we were being tested, but had no way of knowing if we had passed.

The last trial was the death of our young, beautiful Queen Liivika, just two days before her wedding, leaving the Fae to mourn yet again. Some began to question how Tunare could leave us. Others argued that she had not left, that we simply needed to learn how to live like the Feir’Dal. We Fae lost some of our innocence, but we know that we are not alone. Our spirits tell us this.

Changes were wrought, some not as obvious as the madly swirling seas and others very evident. We were growing taller and the shapes and colors of our wings began to differ. The Ring of Regrowth marked a period of rapid changes amongst the Fae. Sadly, during this time two of our Queens disappeared and we were unable to recover their spirits.

The Second Ring of Chaos began with what Outsiders call the Shattering. Shards of Luclin rained down around Faydwer, but fortunately, most of Greater Faydark escaped unscathed. A few of Kelethin’s platforms caught fire and burnt, though most of the city was untouched. Queen Sephria and later her daughter Queen Kilina were both killed by the rain of debris which stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Some days, we wondered what had become of those who had left Faydwer. Where did they go? Did they perish in the Second Ring of Chaos? Would we ever see them or their kin again? For our spirits continued to renew and continued to remember. And then ships arrived as well as parties crossing into Greater Faydark from elsewhere, and we knew that times were changing. Again.

Thus began the Peaceful Ring, which continues to the present. Given our history, we wonder – Peaceful for how long? Queen Oola oversaw the rebuilding of the parts of Kelethin that had been destroyed and left the city to her daughter Amree, our current Queen. Who knows what our future holds, now that Outsiders come once again to Faydwer?

Red Lake


In this book, we see the Rallosian Army’s advance through the eyes of Ilkalla, a Qeynosian Guard at an outpost on Lake Rathetear.
For as long as she could, Ilkalla watched Gerren’s progress up the steep cliffs bordering Lake Rathetear. Even when she could no longer pick him out among the shadows cast by the jagged rocks, she fancied she could see him making his way cautiously along. Finally, she crept into the hut she and Gerren had shared beside their outpost and slept. The Rallosian Army would launch its barges across the Lake and she would need her strength to meet them.
The sun was high overhead when Ilkalla awoke. Her dreams were troubled by the thrumming of the ogres’ victory drums which had started up again while she slept. “Why couldn’t they use a victory flute instead?” she grumbled, latching on to the least of the concerns this day would bring. She had been able to cross the Lake on a coracle twice in one night, but she had been pulling only herself. She was not sure how long the massive, heavy Rallosians barges would take to make the same crossing.
There were very few humans around Lake Rathetear. Ilkalla was the only one present at the strategy meeting, where the aviak and centaur leaders stood before parchment maps, marking off the approaches across the Lake and the defensive positions available. The wide arrows indicating the ways the Rallosian Army could attack were wide swathes of red ochre compared to the tiny ash grey lines for defense. To Ilkalla, the ochre marks looked like dried blood.
“The best course of action is to stop them before they cross,” said Khaza, an aviak general. “The aqua goblins will join with the ogres, not with us. We have fought them too long for them to suddenly consider us their allies,” responded Errod of the centaurs. “Perhaps we could put our defense in two zones, rather than hoping to defend across the entire shore,” said Ilkalla. She pointed to the most likely site where the Rallosian barges would land. “Aviaks in front over the water and the rest of us on the shore.”
“With some aviaks in the flanks to keep the Rallosians from spreading our front lines too thin,” agreed Khaza. “We might not survive for long against the entire Rallosian Army, but we can pick them off and lessen their numbers.” The aviak and centaur leaders sent word to their gathered forces. Ilkalla (a “non-flier” as the aviaks called them) would join a centaur unit held in a third tier reserve.
Mixed now with the steady beat of the victory drums was the sound of chanting. The Rallosians were crossing the Lake, chanting to keep their oarsmen in rhythm and their deep voices carried across the water, bouncing off the mountains. No doubt their ruckus was designed to inspire fear amongst the defenders waiting for their approach. Instead, it filled them with anger and purpose. They might die this day, but they were taking as many ogres with them as they could.
Ilkalla chafed at being assigned to the third tier, but she knew her strengths did not include hand-to-hand combat. She gathered beside her all her own arrows plus the quivers Gerren had left behind. She looked toward the Rathe Mountains again, wondering how he was faring and praying that Tunare — wherever she may be — would guide him. Ilkalla had never been one of the faithful, praying to the gods at every rainbow or stubbed toe, but somehow it seemed fitting to pray today.
The chanting grew louder along with sound of vigorous splashing from the ogre paddlers. They were not skilled watersmen, but they were strong. As the first barge approached, the aviaks went into motion, throwing themselves into the faces of the Rallosians. The ogres’ chanting was now disrupted by the fighting calls of the aviaks — shrill, piercing and challenging. The barges did not halt with this interference; they continued their slow progress forward.
Thanks to the aviaks’ efforts and the skills of the archers in the second tier, the first barge to hit the shore came in at an awkward angle. The spiked boards scraped heavily into the loose gravel shore with enough force that many of the ogres standing ready for battle were set off balance. The centaurs charged in to take advantage of the moment, but another barge gliding in set loose a volley of arrows that tore into the second tier. All too soon, the third tier moved forward.
At the far end of her line, Ilkalla took careful but quick aim at the ogres, trying to avoid the remaining aviaks and centaurs at the front of the line. From the corner of her eye she caught a movement, but was unable to stop the blow. Sinking to the rocky shore, Ilkalla’s mind drifted like the waters surrounding her. “I always thought that water was blue,” she murmured dazedly. As the final blow struck, a shriveled gnoll’s paw floated up beside her on the waves of the red lake.

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!

Journal of Wu, Seeker of Enlightenment


My Quest for Enlightenment
by Wu, a humble servant of Tranquility

Long have I traveled across Norrath, trying to learn all I can about our world and its inhabitants. There is much to see and experience, and too often the citizens of the various empires close themselves off from anything beyond their own borders.

The road to enlightenment is long, and though solitary in nature, one still needs a guide to keep on the proper path. I looked to the writings of Zan Fi, a wise monk who not only mastered all forms of combat but learned that the battle within is much more crucial than the fight against any opponent.

It has been my honor to share what I have learned with others when I can. Just as Zan Fi’s writings were of benefit to me, I hope that my words bring aid and enlightenment to those who wish to undertake a similar journey. If they do, then my presence in this world will have meaning.

Of the many places I have seen, the forest known as the Lesser Faydark is of particular interest to me. Though at first glance it is but a sleepy shadow of its more expansive sibling, there is an air of magic and wonder here that transcends even the Greater Faydark.

I believe part of this forest’s uniqueness is due to the touch of planar and extra-dimensional forces. The presence of the gods is strong here, and the fact that both Tunare and Cazic-Thule have manifested themselves in the place has touched everything from the flora to its inhabitants.

In this forest, light and dark intermix to form shades of grey. Orcs and bandits are drawn here, as are the magical fay races and even the rare unicorn. But there are also odd dichotomies, such as the brownies who serve the power of Growth yet strike with a great wrath at any outsider, no matter their purpose.

The mysterious shadowed men are also drawn here. After much study, I now believe they are attracted to sources of great power on Norrath and perhaps other worlds. Though initially they assume no visible form, I have seen some others lurking here in dark places and now believe these beings may be of the Void itself.

It may be that the mingling of good and evil here makes this place what it is, and these powers hold each other in check. I feel as though this forest will always be in conflict, and even if one side would seem to prevail, its nemesis will be waiting for its turn to take hold and shift the balance once again.

Furthermore, I believe the potency of the magical forces at play weaken the barriers between realities. After much meditation, I may have made contact with a being from such a place. A presence speaks to my mind, calling itself Vorash. It communes with me and seeks to learn about the ways of the monk.

I intend to learn more about this Vorash and determine its intentions. But I must not neglect the dangers in this realm wither. My campsite here in the forest has not gone unnoticed, and I believe malevolent forces are drawing close to me. I must be on my guard at all times.

Whoever or whatever observes me, I fear they may be seeking the weapon I carry, a blessed armament of some potency. I must ensure it does not fall into the hands of those who would corrupt it, yet my means of escape may be somewhat limited. Perhaps an ally can be found to keep it safe for me.

In the meantime I shall continue my meditations and observations. The path I walk is filled with challenges, but despite the dangers of the special place I believe I will draw closer to ultimate Tranquility by dwelling here.

If I am fortunate, perhaps one day I shall write more to offer additional guidance to those who seek it. May your journey, dear reader, be as rewarding as mine has been.

Destroy All Vampires!


Destroy All Vampires!
A book that could save your life.

By Edghar Alain Toad.

Vampires are evil rotting corpses that walk, talk, and bite. They’re the worst kind of undead because they can pretend to be people. And they’re contagious. Vampirism is spreading across Norrath like wildfire, and the authors have dedicated their lives to destroying this menace.

Vampires can be found just about anywhere, but some places are much riskier than others.

Neriak’s vampires are right out in the open. It’s so bad that we think Dark Elves probably invented vampirism. The nearby forests of Nektulos and Darklight Wood are crawling with fangs too.

Freeport has become a haven for the undead. We suspect that the Overlord himself is a bloodsucker, considering how long he’s lived.

Faydwer is not safe either. We’re almost certain that vampires and ghouls occupy key positions in the royal courts of Tunaria and Kelethin, and bloodsucker central is definitely the Loping Plains.

If you ever meet a vampire:

Remember that it only wants your blood.

Don’t believe anything it says! Don’t even let it speak if you can help it.

You can not make a deal or reason with it.

Don’t make eye contact! It’ll pull a mind-scramble and before you know it you’ll be vamp-chow.

If you have holy water, a wooden stake or garlic, use it!

If you don’t have the appropriate gear, run! Get into sunlight as soon as possible.

Warning signs that someone is becoming a vampire:

Cold skin.
Bad breath.
Long fingernails.
No heartbeat.
Sunlight bothers them.
They cast no reflection in a mirror.
They sleep a lot, especially during the day.
They complain about being thirsty.
They were just bitten by a vampire.

Diagnosis is simple. If a person shows any three of these symptoms, then it’s not a person anymore. It’s a vampire!

What to do:

If someone you know is becoming a vampire there’s only one thing you can do. Get a good sharp stake and drive it right through their heart! There is no cure except death. Kill them. You’ll feel better.

A sharp stake is the most important tool any vampire hunter can have. Keep at least three of them handy at all times. A vampire with a wooden stake in its heart is guaranteed to bite the dust! Just don’t pull the stake back out again, just in case. That’s why you need three.

In a pinch you can use substitutes for the wooden stake. Bones work because they count as wood. Antlers, horns, tusks, wooden posts, pool cues, broken off table legs, and jagged tree trunks also make decent staking material.

Holy water is the next best weapon against bloodsuckers. Get any priest to bless some water and you’re good to go. If you can trick a vampire into drinking holy water then they’re done for, but you’re probably not clever enough for that so we recommend a delivery mechanism. Buckets are hard to aim with, but holy water sprinklers are good, and water balloons are even better. And don’t forget, a wet towel sprinkled with holy water works great in close quarters as both a weapon and a shield!

It’s a well known face that vampires hate garlic. We’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because the plant is sacred to Tunare or maybe they just hate everything that smells good.

Whatever the reason, garlic is a fantastic bloodsucker repellant. You should always keep a bulb of garlic around your neck and anywhere else you don’t want them to bite. A garlic cloak is like awesome vampire-proof armor!

Because sunlight is lethal, vampires must hide during the day, so they need help to defend themselves. They keep many kinds of minions to serve this purpose.

Ravenous werewolves, hounds of hell, bloodthirsty bats and stirges are just a few of the fiends you can expect to encounter when cracking a vampire’s lair, so you’ll need more than just sharp sticks and holy water. Wolfsbane, silver and wrought iron weapons, bright lights and fire are all must-haves. Tumpy’s Tasty Tranquilizing Treats work great on hell-hounds too.

When you think you’ve taken out a vampire, you need to make sure because they are really good at faking it. Some vampires can recover from a stake in the heart if you pull it back out. One species of vampire can even survive in daylight!

The only way to be sure a vampire is dead is to burn its body completely and bury the ashes at a crossroads. And remember: no two bloodsuckers die the same way, but all will try to take you with them.

That’s it. If you’ve read this fae then you know all tricks of vampire hunting. Now go out there and totally annihilate those night-stalking freaks!

Death to all vampires!

A Recent History of the Tunarians


The past 500 years have been that of turmoil. Our people, the Koada’Dal, have had to endure atrocities that we would not even wish upon our enemies.
Beginning with the fall of Felwithe and the murder of King Thex, the inhabitants of the city were forced to flee into the mountains to survive. The casualties from the war were great, and the number of paladins were low. A plan was to be formed, the home that Tunare gave to her people was to be retaken.

In the mountains above the city the remaining paladins, priests and mages gathered. They were to all at once draw upon the divine power of Tunare and expel the forces of Innoruuk that had seized control of the city.

The siege of the city caused great destruction, even the mountain canyon that the city had been built in had taken damage. Besides the remaining Koada’Dal there were no living things left in the canyon. The agents of Innoruuk had during the final battle burned the trees, the grass and all of the other vegetation. Even the great tree was on the verge of death.

From the mountains came a wary ally. The Myntr, a tribe of satyr from the plane of Growth came to tend to the tree. It was sacred to them, and to their Mother Tunare. They were unwilling at first to assist the Koada’Dal in rebuilding the city, and for a while left to the mountains above. They left with the tree the tenders. Beings of nature that would take care of the great tree.

During the excavation and rebuilding of the city, historians found books that read of a time ages past. Where the elves lived in the Elddar Forest, and closer to Tunare. The whole of what was Antonica and now the shattered lands used to be under the control and influence of the elves.

These elves were different than the elves that the Koada’Dal saw in their own race. They then noticed how the wood elf and half elf had become perversions of Tunare’s perfect elf. They looked upon their darker kin knowing their creation was a work of Innoruuk, they were no longer able to acknowledge that they had once been elf. These historians convinced the council that there should be a purification, and a recreation of the perfect elf.

It was decided that to become a new race of perfect Elf, they must leave behind their old names, and take upon a new name that would represent their devotion to Tunare, during her absence. The name decided upon was the Renda’Dal, or more commonly the New Tunarians. Family trees were created for the elves that could trace back their history, and those with the most pure blood were selected to bring about more pure blood elves.

A Collection of Epitaphs


The poetry and stories have a homey simplicity about them, especially those written during times of great stress throughout the world. The frayed edges of the pages upon which these verses are copied is a mute testament to those who read this book before, several times.
The epitaphs are grouped roughly by race. Not all Norrathian races are represented, although the ones most likely to have lived for many generations in Qeynos are listed.

Of Humans and Halflings

Humans and halflings may seem an odd combination for burial groupings, but it proved to be a very practical choice. The humans preferred to be interred horizontally, while the halflings seemed to prefer a vertical burial. That allowed for placement of tombs in very close proximity without wasted space.

Time and again we called your name

Little did we know You’d lost your ears to the trolls — Ezzie Appledore, aged 49

Ezzie Appledore’s neighbors always wondered why she didn’t hear them; they thought she was too proud to associate with them. It wasn’t until her death that they discovered she hadn’t any ears, which would have made hearing a bit of a chore.

There’s a place at the table where you used to sit

Your feet after a long day in the fields That’s the very first thing I polished After your funeral. — Lestin Farmerson, age unknown

Lestin operated a large farm and had large feet that he planted on his wife’s table every chance he had. At first, he did it just to annoy her. Later, he’d gotten into the habit.

The gods welcome you home

Wherever they are And wherever you roam Though, if gods there still be Then I am a gnome — Brenna Marche, aged 89

Brenna’s husband Rusty believed that the gods had forsaken Norrath and that no one would hear from them ever again, while Brenna firmly believed the gods would return. Time will tell which of them was right.

You never returned

From your trip over-sea Oh, how I wish You’d left stuff to me — No Name

It’s not clear to whom this epitaph was written, and the tomb on which it was engraved was robbed many generations past. It seems whoever the person was, they were considered wealthy in their day — evidently moreso in material wealth than friends.

Of Elves and Half-Elves

The elves buried beneath Qeynos often fell in battles of its defense and the residents of the town from its early days wanted to show respect to the elder children of Tunare. While they generally shun the half-elven in life, the choice of burying them together was pure practicality — there were fewer elves being buried and the humans refused to have half-elves buried amongst them, so they moved all half-elven tombs to the section reserved for the elves.

You were my best friend forever

Who listened when no one else would Other elves and the humans reject me I wish they took me and not you — Ferianna Leimi, aged 94

The Leimi family died of one of the many diseases rampant during the War of Plagues. Ferianna was rare among high elves, associating freely with the half-elven and befriending them while others shunned them and called them names. The writer of this epitaph was presumably one of Ferianna’s half-elf friends.

Though fallen in battle,

I hear your voice sing Though your last breath is drawn I still wait for Spring — Meiri Linnarian, ageless

Meiri was a member of the Qeynos Guard on patrols in the lowest level of the catacombs. Her unit was overwhelmed by enemy forces. None survived.

Far out to sea, ships are sailing

And I stand alone at the quay You’ve taken my heart on this journey Hold it within yours, my love — Jarna Greyflower, half-elf

Interestingly, many of the half-elf tombs include not their age but the fact that they were half-elves. It is unclear whether this is a mark of pride in their heritage, or whether they were not accorded the honor of noting their lifespan.

Many who died are unburied

Their bones scattered over the hills Let this song be their remembrance Until the battlefield stills — For the Unsung Heroes

of dwarves and Barbarians

Dwarves and barbarians formed alliances as they came to the city of men, both enjoying hearty meals and gaudy entertainment. After the destruction of the northlands, the dwarves joked that the barbarians could be buried alongside them, if there be any reason to bury a dwarf. The comment had been made in jest, but with so much upheaval in the lands, it was inevitable that many from all the races of Norrath would perish.

Here lies Tammak Brannuck

Who knew how to swing But forgot how to duck — Tammak Brannuck, age unknown

Tammak was a barbarian who would go to the local eateries and challenge the patrons to fisticuffs in the street. One day, someone accepted his challenge and Tammak turned around to leave but forgot the door was much lower than he was used to. He hit his head on the door’s lintel so hard it knocked him backward into a display of deer antlers.

These are the bones of Wallace McWallace

He lived rough, fought hard and ate well Too bad he drank from the well, too — Wallace McWallace, died aged 37

Wallace was slain by lizardmen archers as he drew water from the well outside his farm.

We promised we wouldn’t write you a poem

So we won’t. Don’t let it be said We didn’t do anything you ever asked — Garr Stonehammer

The Stonehammer family was famous for disobeying the rules their patriarch Garr set down. Looks as though he finally got his way.

You didn’t tell me there’d be elves.

— Gruer Hardy

Gruer and his family escaped the destruction of Halas, fighting many brave battles through gnoll territory to reach Qeynos, where Gruer collapsed in shock at the unexpected sight of elves in the city of men.

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.