Translated Ancient Tome   Leave a comment

The manufacturing of a hay golem is not so complex, save for the creation of the most important part: the head. The process requires a precise set of ingredients, such that any exclusion or imitation of a crucial item can lead to disastrous results.

When combined with care, the resulting head can simply be fitted into the frame of the hay golem with no need for spells or further transmutation.

For the husk, you must locate a fitting carved pumpkin. Such can often by found in Estates teeming with the undead. While this place will feel somewhat foreboding, there is no better place to harvest this item. Next, seek out a supplemental shapely vegetation. The best bet is a dank and moist fungus filled region. Thirdly on the list are stringy vines. The best vines I have found are located on the moon of Luclin in the mad mage’s domain. This is why stealth is of the utmost importance. Next, there is a need for several fragments of the unliving: The claw of an ancient dragon, long dead. Tattooed skin peeled from a zombie – I imagine there are many bloated sailors that would not miss a scrap of their flesh. Tears of those spirits that are long forgotten.

The final elements are the most important, and oddly enough, the most difficult to find. The basking glow of an orange flame, a living essence of a dancing mote of light. These wisps are typicallly found in swamplands. Also, the boiling liquid from the Mistress’ laboratory.

Lastly, the reanimation formula. Unfortunately, in all my travels I was never able to find the source of this substance and all my attempts to duplicate it have been for naught. I have often debated whether the extra efforts required for this endeavor are worth my time. Since the first time I laid eyes upon a hay golem, I knew the knowledge of their creation would be mine … someday.

Posted December 11, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

Testament of Night   Leave a comment

For the ear of the Emperor I write in my own blood, accepting my death as the seal for this testament. The ceremony performed on the Vah Shir captive has failed. Our attempt to leash the divine, to merge mortal flesh with the power of the gods has gone awry. All that is widely known is that both the captive and his masters perished in a mistaken spell. The truth is that the captive transcended somehow, consuming many of your loyal servants with his newfound powers. Our agents seek him, but there is little hope that he will be found. He has escaped and we have failed. We bow before you to accept your judgment. We cannot carry out your command, dread Emperor. A god cannot be made.

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

Tattered Note   Leave a comment

Ans dutenus ial di xetanus. Ans vaeus xaui xau.


Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

Tattered Letter to Imdawl   Leave a comment

Dear Imdawl,

I don’t know if this letter will find you, but I think they may be on to us.

Someone found the poison we used on a glass in my master’s chambers.

It won’t be long until we are discovered.

If I manage to pass this note to you, you must find a way to meet with me. We must find someone to blame.

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

Student’s Log   Leave a comment

Missed mass again today. This is the third time this week now. It is a worthy sacrifice however as I was able to attend the Master’s National Coin exchange class. Perhaps the clergy will change the time of their masses, then I’ll be able to attend regularly. Although with the appointment of the new Arch Priest it appears mass may be discontinued altogether. I honestly hope so. I could attend many more classes as well as spend more time rubbing elbows with merchants at the bazaars. I think I’ll have to miss tomorrow’s mass as well. I heard the Laughing Leech Guild is taking members again.


Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

The Story of Taruun   Leave a comment

The Story of Taruun

As told by:

Mahlimik Dak
Grand Historian of the Jharin


This is the tale of Taruun, the first Vah Shir scout.

Taruun was discovered as a small child. He was found wandering the Old World continent of Odus alone. His face was scarred and his fur was burned in patches. It was apparent that he had been without food for some time. The orphan was very near death when Kerran hunters found him and brought him back to their village.

The Shir tribe adopted the child and nursed him back to health. The tribe searched for some trace of his family, but did not succeed in finding them. The young cub was either unable or unwilling to speak which made the hunt for his origins that much more difficult. After several years of searching all efforts to find his family were officially ended and the boy was adopted into the tribe. That is when they gave him the name Taruun. As Taruun grew it became clear that he would never grow to be like the other Kerrans. It was obvious to those who knew him that whatever trauma he suffered had scarred him deeply. He never spoke, nor even growled for that matter. He kept to himself mostly, sometimes wandering off on his own for days.

Taruun demonstrated abilities that no Kerran had possessed. All Kerrans could move quietly while they hunted, but Taruun was different.

He moved silently, undetectable by even his fellow Kerrans. Added to this was an amazing ability to instantly blend into any background. He did so without the normal visual effects that a shaman displays while casting a spell of invisibility. Taruun could disappear at will.

The boy never spoke, but he proved his value to the tribe during those first years. He often returned from his solo treks into the wilderness with more food than the elder more experience hunters in his tribe.

Some days he would return with more food than an entire gathering of hunters. The tribal elders watched this and grew curious.

One morning the tribal elders asked the youth if they could send hunters with him on one of his treks. He simply nodded and motion for the elder hunters to follow.

The hunters had learned to respect young Taruun prior to that day and followed the youth with open minds. It is fortunate for all of us that they did so. The skills that they learned in that expedition and all of the ones that followed it are still used today.

Taruun continued to take hunters with him for several years after that first trip.

The hunters that he taught passed their knowledge to the hunters that followed behind them.

Seasons passed and the tribe flourished and grew under the tutelage of the silent youth. This continued until the day that he left the tribe.

No one can remember when or why the youth left. Some speculate that he was a spirit. Other had said that he never existed. I prefer to think that he was a fleeting part of the shadows, destined to move with the sun.

Our people all learn the story of Taruun at an early age. The boy never spoke the name himself, but his actions and skill spoke like no words could. Our elders say that the story of Taruun is a lesson in humility. He helped our tribe without the use of words and with no desire for gratitude. That is why we have named our scouts after the youth. They are the epitome of what he represented to our people.

That is the story of Taruun, the child that taught a tribe to survive.

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

The Stone Is Stolen   2 comments

An unnatural fog fills the small cove. It brings with it a numbing quiet, which is only broken by the rhythmic sound of waves washing against the shore and slapping the hulls of several small wooden skiffs. The cove is devoid of life, since most of its typical residents have moved aside to make room for the chilling fog. The morning sun will eventually rise, and the cove’s residents will return to their swampy homes. Yet, these things will all wait until the fog has receded to the ocean, carrying its dark cargo with it.

For now, the fog continues to creep up the shore and into the marshlands that lay beyond. The small cove fills with dozens of wooden skiffs. The small boats seem to cut through the water in almost perfect silence, relying only on magic to propel them ashore. A single figure in each rises and pulls its dark hood over its smooth, finned head. One motions toward the dense swamplands to the east. The strange figures seem even more out of place silhouetted against their bulkier, less agile troll allies; yet their authority is unquestioned.

The trolls’ push quickly through the low tangles of the swamp, their savage strength easily clearing a path. It has been some time since they moved through terrain such as this. Their clan has long avoided this place, but today’s activities should remove those old fears. Once they have acquired the stone, the tides will quickly bring a new era with them from Broken Skull Rock.

As the groups reach a clearing near the city of Grobb, they are brought to a sudden halt by the figures that lead them. The robed creatures gather near a small pool. A grotesque webbed hand draws back the robe’s hood, revealing the amphibian’s face.

“Prepare your soldiers,” the strange amphibian says softly, addressing the trolls in their guttural native language. “The doorway we create will not last long and we must have time to follow you in… unless you wish for us to leave you inside with them.” The creature pauses, a slight smirk appearing on its face. “This is not your desire, correct?” A defiant grunt is its only answer.

The largest of the trolls turns to face his soldiers as the robed Luggalds begin their incantation. All around them, the ankle-deep water comes alive with energy. A small growl surges from within the ranks of the Luggalds to become a cacophony of battle cries. The water before the sorcerers rises in a tall, thin sheet of water. Through the portal can be seen a large wooden bridge, the surprised faces of several guards and, just behind them, a sign that reads: Night Keep.

As the last of the invaders climb out of the moat, which acted as their entrance into Grobb’s fortified walls, the raid’s leader shouts, “We only leave when we have the stone! Once you have it, burn everything else!” This command echoes through Night Keep’s halls, barely audible over the crushing sounds of combat and the surprised cries of unsuspecting guards.

The trolls’ cruel nature is apparent as both sides of the battle paint the scene in the savage reds of death and flames. The trolls of Grobb, now fully aware that the unthinkable is in progress, drive the invading clan back to the moat. The clan from Broken Skull Rock, however, has what it came for, and its members fight their way into a position surrounding the crimson moat. From within the cramped formation the murmurs of despicable incantations begin again.

“Your lives, for the fulfillment of prophecy,” a voice shouts from within the dense circle of raiders. A shimmering red portal rises from the moat below, engulfing the Trolls and their foul mentors. Those Broken Skull trolls left behind perform their task well and thwart any disruption to the clan’s escape. Even as the portal collapses back into the moat, the thieves are well on their way back into the fog that surrounds the cove.

The morning sun is now rising, finding the wind pushing a strange fog and several large ships to the west. This same wind carries a cargo of smoke and confusion through the swamplands of Innothule. The fires in Grobb are extinguished, and the descendants of Ykesha prepare for war.

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

The Soulstone of Gukta   Leave a comment

The Soulstone of Gukta is something that I have created to help return to our new home. The stone was created out of necessity. As one of the original Elders of the city I was tasked with searching the world for treasure that we could use. Weapons of great magical power are needed to defend our city. One fateful night we stumbled into the sweltering lair of Lord Nagafen. We slowly made our way down to his lair. We were not after the gold, only the more unique treasures. Lord Nagafen must have just finished off a group of adventurers because he was sleeping near his gold hoard. His snoring was so loud it rattled the walls, and his exhales filled the chamber with flame. My small band and I crept against the walls shadowed with spells. We loaded up as much artifacts as we could hold. We tried to escape the lair with it but the clanging of metal woke the great beast. Thankfully we were able to escape with our lives but at the cost of having to drop all of our bounty. If we had the Soulstone I am about to describe we could have used it to escape with all of the artifacts of power in hand.

Using our most skilled pottery artisans I called for the Soulstone to be created. On a pottery wheel they used the following to create the unfired stone:

Idol Sketch, Large Block of Magic Clay, Celestial Essence, Vial of Distilled Mana, Gukta Essence, Water Flask, and Sculpting Tools.

The Gukta Essence was created from plant life grown near our home. This is what helps to tie the stone to this place.

Speckled Toadstool, Water Flask.

Once the unfired stone was created all that was left was to fire it inside of a kiln. Special precaution was taken to make sure all of the power in it was sealed off :

Unfired Soulstone of Gukta, High Quality Firing Sheet, and Divine Crystalline Glaze.

Now that we possess this powerful stone we are planning a trip to visit our old friends in the eye of Solusek soon.

– Lokta Elder Sigig

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

A Simple Sailor’s Tale   Leave a comment

One Sailor’s Tale – Obertin Seaborn

It is said that the storm’s fury is slow to rise and always abates. That is not the entire truth. That fury can lie under the surface for many years. Some of us have seen that fury rise as fast as the lightning strikes and rage for days and weeks at a time.

I was aboard the Waif when it happened. Waif was a large boat captained by a large fool. I was a conscriptee, so my choices were limited. I did warn them, as did many of the crew, that it was risky to sail those waters, even in those days when the sea were unknown. I wasn’t the first to see the strange raft, but I was the first to understand what they were doing. There were a bunch of painted-up trolls on this huge raft, dragging the sea with a huge net. This isn’t, by itself, a problem. Most fish are too fast to be caught in this way, and most of the smarter sea life will avoid the nets or damage them.

But these trolls were pulling up many fish, and among them were some of the sirens and other beings of the sea. I knew, even as a boy, having been born and raised at sea, that the ocean lord cares for his creatures very much, but that he is slow to anger and often expects his subjects to fend for themselves. The lord of storms is different. He loves the sirens, many believe that they sing for his clouds and his rain.

As they pulled their prizes from the nets a huge troll strode among them and beat them, troll and sea creature equally, with his massive sword. This monster cruelly beat one of the sea maids and forced her to sing for him. Her song was one of pain and rage. It was, of course, so compelling to those of us that heard it that many dove overboard to die in the sea rather than hear it any longer. The captain ordered the boat turned in his desire to rescue her.

We never reached the raft. In an instant the sky was filled with light and thunder rolled across the sea sending many more of the crew off the decks. I do not know how I survived.

I do know how that troll survived. I saw dark shapes, roughly the size and shape of a troll, swim up to the shattered raft and pull the brutal troll under the waves, then move swiftly to the shores of a barren island.

That storm raged for a week. I saw the raging anger of the storm and was spared. I do not know why I was spared when all the others died. Perhaps only so that I can tell this tale as a warning to others.

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized

The Shifting   Leave a comment

The Shifting

As told by:

Mahlimik Dak
Grand Historian of the Jharin


This is the tale of the time that followed the Shifting. Our people had been thrown into darkness with only a handful of heroes to guide us. Perhaps it was fate that brought us here… or maybe the spirits are calling us to their aid.


When the magic ripped us from our realm, we found ourselves within a strange land. We could no longer sense our guiding spirits around us, and fear began to overtake our kin. Fortunately, our king Vah Kerrath was quick to see this, and so he began to give us tasks to help our people regain their sanity and stability.

He sent his greatest warriors under the leadership of the great explorer Khati Sha to the north to find out more about these strange lands.

King Vah Kerrath then sent another army of brave men to the west under the leadership of Dar Khura.

The citizens that marched into the darkness in those days were responsible for the security that we now enjoy.

The bravery of Vah’s leaders and our ability to come together as a people secured our sanctuary here in the darkness. Those days were full of turmoil and conflict… much like they are now.

Before the time of the Shifting we had the spirits to guide us, but their guidance seemed to be blocked from us by the darkness, much like the sun.

We had no voices to follow and no light to warm our spirits. Our shaman tried to find the spirits but they could only sense a distant creature lurking as if it was of the shadow itself.

Without the will of Vah to guide us through those desolate years, we might have lost everything.

Our people feared that we were the only of our kind left alive and to give up would have meant that the honor of our ancestors would have surely been lost to the ages.

When our king passed on, we took his name as our own to show that we are strong, for he was a strong king. Under the leadership of Vah Kerrath, we survived.

We survived the loss of our ancestral spirits and we survived the loss of our home and our people.

We stood firm against the lurking shadows and roared the name of Vah as a challenge to all who would stand against our will to live. That is how we survived the Shifting.

Posted December 10, 2013 by Michael in Uncategorized