Source of the Mournlands (Naomi)
From Toosigma
| Title | Source of the Mournlands |
|---|---|
| Author | Philip Mann - Naomi |
| Campaign | Convergent Threads |
| Session | Source of the Mournlands |
| Posted | |
| Game Date |
Maerin and I had a lot of things to research about Xen'drik, so we found ourselves together at the university library several times. On this day, however, a strange man started asking about me. Maerin not recognizing the House Orien messenger for who he was, tried to divert his attention so that he could determine if the questions were for an insidious purpose. Eventually, Maerin got the messenger to wait in another part of the library until he could get me. In retrospect, I found this to be a noble act on his part in spite of his past remarks.
The messenger had a summons addressed to me from Askin d'Kundarak, the dwarf who spoke with me at the ir'Tain Gala some months past. He requested Maerin, Hero, and I to meet with him about perspective employment. He did not mention the nature of the offer, but I got the impression from him when we last spoke that it would involve adventuring and would probably be worth a fair sum. The only trick that remained was to locate Hero in time to make the meeting. Fortunately, Maerin and I had a place to start: one of his “business ventures”.
As Maerin and I journeyed to gather Hero for the meeting, I considered the plethora of safe houses and his general nature of deception. I have never considered that any business of Hero's could be entirely legitimate because he exists in his own world which is free of any moral or ethical boundaries, for good or ill. It seems to serve his ends, but I cannot see that this sort of attitude could be anything but a burden to any relationship he might hope to forge. No emotions, no ties to anyone or any concept outside of self-preservation; none of these things can be used against him and this is his strength. It is also his weakness as it prevents him from knowing the strength of personal bonds. I think that, had he opened up to Kayli, she would have accepted him in spite of his own fears, and his own existence might be enlivened having someone to fight for beyond himself.
After a usual charade, we managed to get Hero to meet us at Askin's office in the Central Plateau. His receptionist was pleasant but professional, and his office was full of artifacts that quickly grabbed my attention. The fortune on display was far more than any of us would likely see during our time to walk Eberron, with each item worth more than the yearly income of an entire village. I imagined this to be no surprise as he is a contemporary of the wealthy and powerful around when we last met.
As I expected, Askin was really all business with no pretense on a lot of small talk. He presented that he knew of a venture Hero and I had to the former d'Cannith stronghold called Whitehearth in the Mournland. He then proposed that we could go there again to retrieve an artifact for his collection. There was some discussion about the description and nature of the artifact, but ultimately he offered a very lucrative sum that we accepted. His final piece of assistance, along with a key charm similar to the ones we used previously in the underground facility, he provided air transport to and from our destination.
Our past experience in the Mournland made us stop at Rhukaan Draal en route to our destination. The reason was so that Maerin could become familiar enough with a relatively friendly locale to bring us back from Whitehearth safely. I felt a little odd that I would never experience the feeling of knowing that magic would not heal me, that I might be helpless and dying though my friends are present. No, at least in that horrible landscape, my own knowledge and abilities could save me even if they could save nobody else.
We departed early for Whitehearth, flying high above the mist until we neared the proximity of the complex. Hero suggested that we not stop right on top of the complex to prevent Askin's men from locating it later, but this meant that we would have to walk a couple of miles through the wasteland. Additionally, to get to the ground we decided to have the airship stay aloft and we descended using various means to reach the surface. This would keep the ship out of immediate danger as well as it prevented the crew from seeing the direction we departed once our descent took us into the mist. Also, we instructed the airship to return to Rhukaan Draal and wait for us there as we would be able to return instantly thanks to Maerin's magic.
Whitehearth was in the same shape as we left it, and I was not wholly unhappy to get below the surface again. Maerin seemed surprised that we knew so much about navigating the corridors, so Hero explained what happened the last time we visited. I hoped that this time we would venture through much more swiftly and with fewer incidents, but I also hoped that Maerin would be a significant asset should things go as they had before.
We searched the areas of the complex that we had not been able to access before, and I kept wondering what it must have been like when it was in use. The d'Cannith research facility must have been buzzing with the latest innovations and new technologies. I may have fit in well during those times, and I certainly would have enjoyed the environment of discovery and artifice. Mayhap I will see this place rebuilt in my years ahead and used to return life to the Mournland.
We encountered just one significant trial during our exploration: an iron golem protecting the vault. The threat itself was not especially difficult, or it should not have been, save that Maerin's magic was working against us. I should have known, and I should have watched but I was absorbed in the moment while the caster's power reinforced our opponent. Only after the battle was concluded did I realize what had happened, but it was too late by then. I believe the elf's academic nature was showing when he cast spells without considering his target. It is difficult for me to hold the potential outcome against him as he did try to help and the worst did not happen. In the future we may avoid such mistakes, but today we were fortunate that nobody was killed through such poor judgment.
After the fight was over, we continued to search for the statue. Room after room we found nothing, until we located what remained of the facility commander, the late Sedris d'Cannith. There was also a journal and a d'Cannith signet ring which allowed us to uncover what happened to the now empty vaults: Aaren d'Cannith, a then exile from the house, had ordered much of what was here to another facility in Metrol. I kept the ring and the journal together in my things so that I could read them later for more clues on our trip from Rhukaan Draal to Gatherhold, the closest place we could get to Metrol without jeopardizing the airship.
Maerin used his magic to transport us back to the waiting airship and we left straight away. Noting the dates in the journal, I imagined that the items would likely be in Metrol yet as they were relocated there less than two weeks prior to the Day of Mourning. Of more interest to me, however, were the entries that Sedris made mentioning of a companion who arrived with Aaren. The way she wiled both men, Sedris and Aaren, to achieve what ever mysterious end she sought both repulsed and captivated me. I was taken even more when I discovered that we were now tracing her path in the days before the Mourning...
Once in Gatherhold, the rest of the group purchased horses to make take into the Mournland. I could not see that I needed one as my own pace matches theirs and I do not tire so easily. So, the two men rode into the Dead-Gray Mist and I ran along side them. In retrospect, they must have appeared every bit the sexist pigs on our way out of town.
We were not long on the trail when Maerin became aware that we were being followed. He elected to remain behind to attempt to discern who was behind us, and this proved to be a nearly fatal mistake on his part as he had the misfortune to meet with the first of many undead that we would deal with on our way through this part of the mystery.
Hero and I fought through to him and we fled toward Metrol, now short the horses to Fate's hands. We made the best time we could manage, hoping to see safety in what might remain of the once great city. I knew immediately that no such rest awaited as directly between us and the city lay a massive construct and a cemetery with most of its residents walking among the markers.
We failed to get past the threats without drawing notice, so we fought through and made our way into the mostly intact city. Our agility granted us passage onto the rooftops and we began to look for the d'Cannith stronghold, or what might be left of it, as our best clue to the resting place of the statue. Eventually, with streets swarming with undead, we found and fought our way inside of the old mansion. Battered and bruised, however, we decided that it would be best for Maerin to speed us back to Gatherhold to recuperate.
We were there just a day when something horrible happened to our sorcerer. When I was alerted, I was sitting on the grass in a clearing not far from the market. Two of the local marshals approached me from a distance, hands on their weapons. One of them, the taller one, seemed to be of higher rank but that did not really matter to me. These men looked very unsure of what to expect, so I fixed a disarming smiled and greeted them.
“Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?” I asked without adjusting my posture. My demeanor, and likely the fact that I appeared unarmed, seemed to put them at ease so they approached nearer.
The shorter one reached his hand into a pouch producing a picture of an unconscious Maerin. “Miss, do you know this man?” he asked if still somewhat unsure if I was going to be any trouble.
“I believe I do,” I replied. “has something happened?”
The shorter one glanced back at his superior who then took charge, “You will need to come with us to answer some questions.” Like Aramil, a statement rather than a question. I could not help if all military men became this way once they grew in rank.
However, I did not let that change my mood. “Anything to help,” I said as I extended my arms toward the junior man, “Help me up?”
The shorter acted took the chivalrous ground and assisted me while his senior glared at his back. Yes, must be some sort of a rank thing with these guys.
They led me to the council hall and directed me to wait in an office. I was there for just a few minutes when the senior man came for me and we went down a hall toward what looked like a cell area. On the way, I passed the younger man and smiled, but he averted his gaze quickly when the senior saw him looking at me. Yeah, just like Aramil.
After some routine questions and an explanation of what seems to have happened to him put me back on my way again though not without some debate among the assembled officials. They seemed mixed as to whether or not I was going to be a threat and they did not want to let me leave town until the investigation was concluded. It was not until I affirmed that my as yet unlocated companion and I would be returning to the Mournland in the morning that they agreed we could go. They did request that we return directly to Gatherhold as soon as our business was completed within the mist.
“I will not abandon him,” I told them.
I was dismissed, not coming into contact with Hero again until the evening. He too had been questioned and allowed to leave, so we decided to make haste on our trip the following morning.
We transported back to the mansion where we left and continued our search with renewed vigor. Room after room had been ransacked and it soon became clear that someone or something had come looking for treasures held here. The back of my mind was forming an image of a destructive force from our past, a legion who would tear through anything to get what it was after, but we had not seen any of his agents in months...
It took us many hours to find the vaults deep within the structure, and the guardian that awaited us made me certain that we had found the place that had not been entered by those who sacked the floors above us. The guardian, however, was not without surprises of his own. His spirit was bound to the place he guarded and his undead body fought on with the terrible magic that empowered him. I wanted to destroy the abomination to life with everything in me, but Hero stayed my hand not to destroy what was left of his father...I released his tortured soul and we then acted on the information we found in the vault taking us to Making aboard an Ebony Fly magical conveyance.
The flight was not unpleasant though it made me long for the lush forests of Xen'drik. In that forbidding place we would have seen a world alive with wonderful creatures, not this dead landscape. I tried to imagine the land as it was before the Mourning, and I tried to pry those visions from my memory but I could not awaken Cyre from within until we neared where Making had been. At that moment, when the Glass Plateau stretched before us, I did not see the wonder that lay before us. Rather, I saw a destruction that took with it a mountain, a city, and an entire nation. I tried to see specifics, to remember, but it was my heart speaking and not my past.
In the distance, Kal'ryu and Hero both spotted some warforged flying in the distance and I knew right away we were in the domain of the Lord of Blades. The warforged turned to intercept us and I guided our path away from them, shooting a parting shot at the nearest one as we outpaced them. After some distance, I circled around and came in low toward what used to be Making, but when I saw the vast numbers of organized patrols and soldiers on the walls, I knew that we would not be able to sneak or fight our way in. I spoke my opinion to the others and, not knowing what to expect from the warforged citadel, I brought us to land before the gates of the fortress.
We gained an audience with the Lord of Blades himself and, promising to trade the creation pattern that he had so jealously guarded, Hero gained permission for us to explore the lower levels. I heard none of what was said, however, because the fearsome man before us greeted me with familiarity. With but a phrase, he took substantial control of my perception and reason: “Nice to see you again...”
The next thing I knew, we were descending into a deep pit on a floating platform. My mind was still whirling with the implications of what he said, and I had to fight to bring my thoughts back to me. By the time we hit the bottom I regained my composure and would not endanger those who trusted me.
Through a magical gate that I had to sing to open, a maze of information in the magical library, and a long deactivated creation forge that brought forth an unmistakable feeling of belonging to my being. Finally, we located the statue that had taken us from corner to corner and halfway back in the Mournland. Still, my mind could not let go of the Lord of Blades, of Aaren d'Cannith, and of Serafina...
At the top of the elevator I demanded to be taken to see the Lord of Blades again and a reluctant sentry fulfilled my request.
My meeting with the Lord of Blades, or Aaren, was very telling in that it affirmed in my mind his identity and at least part of his connection with me. My past, Serafina's past, is tied to him in some horribly manipulative way. Perhaps Sedris was right to be worried about his friend, and I would be wrong again to believe that none of that matters now, because Aaren made it very clear that it did still matter even if he tried to dismiss it.
I feel that I have used him, maybe even broken him, in the past that I have no memory of. I do no know if I helped to create the meanness that I felt in his presence or the callousness that he feels he must direct at me, but I must assume that I did. In my effort to nudge information from him though, I believe that I have solidified the hatred that he has for me. Mayhap I have done so to an unrecoverable level, but I certainly hope I will be able to mend some of what has happened in time.
I met Hero back outside of the gate. In silence, we returned to Gatherhold to find Maerin alive and well, and not incarcerated; then we returned back to Sharn...
