Aurora Glade

The jungle is at war with itself.   I cannot think of how else to explain it. It is beast against beast, human against human, druid against demagogue.  Yes, the Druids join our cause.  This is a blessing within a curse, for something dark must be at work for the druids to feel the need to join any cause.

D'alessio Seaboard

I'm not sure I trust the White Mantle.  It is nothing in their actions, but the way they spew their hatred around about the Shining Blade, a band of rebels i'm told, reminds me muchly of the way King Adelbern spewed his hatred of the Krytans.  I help them though, more, but I will remain on guard and make my own decisions.  This has helped us all greatly on our perilous journey.   Emotions lead to rash decision, which may lead to death. 

I meet my co-ordinator,  Mantle Knight Karriya, and he tells me that they have found the sceptor of Orr. My eyes nearly pop out of my head in surprise.  This sceptor is the sign of the Flameseeker stories, the fabled weapon of the mercilous Lich.  Many men died retrieving this scepter overnight aswell, overtaken by the undead.  My mission is simple.  Cleanse Hakewood of all the undead scum, find Confessor Dorian, and retrieve the sceptor of Orr.  Time to go.

Gates of Kryta

As soon as I left the barracks through one of the Lions Gates I saw it.  Hoards of undead, skeletons and ghouls by the bucket full.  The lush green near jungle like visual that I had so waited to see after all the barren sand of my home spoiled by these specters.  Farmers run from all directions to the gates for safety, and a small pig oinking gently between some thatched stalls.  I soothe the pig, as the humans are long gone by now, and he decides to follow.   If anything, atleast I will have bacon in the morning.

 I follow the undead in to a soggy marsh.   Bakkir the forsaken, a great skeleton of a Necromaster appears in front of us and I am sure leading in to the marsh was a trap, but then I see it.  The pig is fighting with us, and doing quite the job as well as any soldier I had seen.  Perhaps I won't eat him when this is over.

We leave the marsh and come across a small town where the White Mantle are already in heated battle to protect the gate.  With our added help we pick up the bones of the fallen as our reward and they let us in.  I go to speak with some of the new townsfolk.  There is a small boy Cheswick and he is crying. He lost his mother I am thinking, or his father, but upon asking it turns out he had lost his pet pig. "Oink" is the pigs name, and "Oink" was my soldier.  I return "Oink" to the boy and he is so overjoyed that his father, a local historian, tells me there is a sacred script upon a sunken ship not far from the town.  I must retrieve it, I know I must, and I will return it to him, for he will translate.  My Orrian is not up to date.

I tell Justiciar Toriimo to throw open the gates, and he says I am to find Justiciar Hablion on the beach.  A beach vacation, just what I always wanted. First, to the sunken ship. 

 I find a pass between the mossy mountains leading to what I guess used to be a deep river.  I wade throught it, spying sharks in deep drops of the river bottom. I find the shipwreck easily and the text just as easily.  I wonder why the historian could not just do this task himself.  As soon as I laid my fingers on the text we were immediately attacked by smoke phantoms, powerful smoke phantoms.  The likes of which I had never been matched with before. Though not bosses in their own right they certainly stung like it, sending streaks of electricity that shocked us to our cores.  We manage, barely, to send them back to the Underworld and the text is returned to the historian.  Turns out, it is an autobiography of an unknown orrian sailor.  Lesson? Never trust a historian.

 Finally we head to the beach and to Hablion.  We aid small pockets of White Mantle soldiers on our way.  He runs towards us, he has heard we were coming.

 He tells me that now is a terrible time for us to be coming to Kryta, there is civil unrest, and hoards of undead springing out of the ground.  He will allow us our entry, and hold to the deal, if I were to help him in his trouble.

 So the Ascalonians will be free to set up a new life, but I will still be under service.  Small price to pay, in my opinion.   What else would I do? After these adventures I could not be happy sewing seeds and darning socks.  We help him clear the swamp, which had been overrun.  He is greatful.  My skill is undenialable, and my bravery unquestionable.  We are to go to Lion's Arch.  My promise to my poor prince is fulfilled.

To Kryta!

Rurik is dead. I don't know what to do.  I know that I am to take charge.  I am in charge now. A promotion I take with a very heavy and conflicted heart.  There are centaurs everywhere, but atleast the dwarves are gone.   It seems I am not the only lost and conficted ascalonian in the mountains though.  The refugees run in to battle half hearted, and needlessly at times.  Its almost as if their survival is no longer relevent.  They just want to inflict pain in hopes to lessen some of their own.  I am too tired to stop them.  Mentally and physically exhausted from our journeys, I must collect myself.  I still have people to lead.  We weave our way through the Deldrimor Bowl, in to Griffon's Mouth where we meet Master Seeker Nathanial.  He says that the archer Aiden has gone ahead, and left us his ranger markers to show the way.

In the caves we meet a friendly army from Kryta.  They label themselves the White Mantle, they are the peacekeepers of Kryta and they are happy to see us.  Seems the unrest has come to Kryta aswell.  We continue to follow Aiden's marks through the cave until sure enough we find the man himself.  Greeted with a smile the size of of a great whale it is hard not to feel lighter of heart when we see him.  He cheers and whoops with glee that we had not all perished, and though his show is very genuine there is a dimness to his eye.  I say nothing but take the man in my arms and give him an embrace of happiness.  He gives me a letter for Ambassador Braun, assigned assistant to the Ambassador Zain, and embittered I take it.  My prince perishes amidst the snow and the ambassador seems to have no issue getting through, I wonder why.   The Krytans are having a civil war aswell at the moment, and Aiden tells me Braun will fill me in.  There is more to do before we can reach our settlement, so off  to the beaches we head to deliver our papers.

You think I would be happy to finally be out of the snow.  The ambassador awaits us directly outside the cave, the sand is soft and warm on my sandals.  I am to head next to the Gates of Kryta, the witness Casori will allow us passage through.  Shortly in to our beach vacation, I see what problems it was they meant.  There are ghouls and ghosts.  Hostile Zombies creating minions, merpeople disabling walking speeds.  These are much more hostile lands than the King had spoken of.  When the king spoke of Kryta, which he did often, he painted the lands to be full of traitors and cowards.  These dangerous spectors are run off from when Orr sunk in ancient times.  Civil unread caused that aswell, and as I recall the story I am much reminded of what happened to us in Ascalon.  Pride destroying all that is good for everyone.  But we find these ghouls are just as succeptible to death as the living, and we make it to the gates.  Casori is excited to meet us.  It has been years since a person from Ascalon has set foot in Kryta, and they think it is a momentous occasion the likes of Saul D'Alessio would even have liked to see.   Who in the world is Saul D'Alessio?  He fills me in on history of old, how Orr, Ascalon and Kryta were too busy warring with eachother to notice the Charr population amassing and arming.  Hard run and empty from the fight between eachother, the Charr had an easy time taking over.  While on the run, a young hero named Saul D'Alessio emerged and put spirit in his citizens, and eventually they were able to push back the Charr and retake their lands.  Enough though, I am to take our refugees to Justiciar Hablion by Lions Arch and he will give us our accomodations, and lead us to the tracts of land that are to be our own.  We have atlast made it, one more mission to Lion's Arch and our people shall finally be free and safe.

Borlis Pass

It is indeed dark times. Rurik has not been seen for days, and some fear the worst. It snows nonstop.  Jalis has taken a shine to me, and I am sent to negotiate the safe passage to Groobles Gulch for our people.  The way is covered with centaurs, and the dwarves are in a panic.  They want me to light their magical storm beacons in order to show pacifism towards us.  Ascalon Guard Hayden has the torch.  He fled in the initial charr takeover, and I should be cross with him for abandoning hope but I cannot help but feel sorry for him, leaving one storm only to come upon another. 

There are six beacons in all, and I must light them all.  Maladar is on the other side of the gate, and the Ascalon gate guard Tolis, whom I remember guarding the wall before the searing, waits to open the gate for us.  I give him the magical torch, and we forge on.  Rurik appeared to the guards not three days ago. We are close.  The Stone Summit have an advantage, beasts so large they shake the ground, and knock us off our feet.  There are more gates, and we must end the siege of Krok's Hollow.  Luckily it seems these rival dwarves are not very smart, and they leave pyramids of explosive powder kegs near every gate.  We slay their ballistae engineers, and leave bloody footprints in the snow. Behind one of these gates I find Rornak Stonesledge, ally and friend of the dwarven king.  He tells me the Stone Summit have a trick up their sleeves.  An ice drake, so large it rivals the dragons of old.  I have trouble believing this, and his breath stinks of ale, but I have no choice but to investigate.

Within a cave I see my first dryder.  I've heard of the from adventurers who made it this far, explorers spinning tales in pubs over free mugs of ale. Spindly creatures with 6 legs and fangs the size of my head. They string along our path the ice drake, and Rornak was not lying.   The accursed beast splays over the ice like a troop of yaks at rest.  What the Summit did not account for was a beast of such large breeding would be fat and lazy. Power as he may be, he is idle, and thusly put out of his misery.

More gates, more kills, we make our way to the final gate to the hold.   We pull the levers to open it and with a start we see something we did not expect.  Rurik stands behind the gate.  He has been trapped, much like Rornak, yet not captive.  Now freed and with a cleared path from us, he gives me his praise.  Praise from a prince! I am humbled. He sends me to King Jalis, who gives me the magical flame yet again and asks me to light the beacons at the Frost Gate.  This will ensure that his brother Brechnur allows us our safe passage.  An enemy of the Stone Summit is forever a friend of the deldrimor dwarves. 

Beacons lit, we and the prince march upon the small dwarven community.  They offer us kind housing and ale.   The prince can now congratulate me in true dwarven fashion, should our livers survive it.

The Road to Borlis

The more I travel, the more I realize that many people actually made it out of Ascalon.  Yak's Bend was full of travelers and craftsmen.  Even Captains of the kings army.  Captain Osiric holds a place by the fire where he teaches travellers new skills to protect themselves.  I was able to make a small fortune of some salvaged runes from my battle in Rin.   Rurik, former prince of Ascalon, has gone ahead to meet with our dwarven ally Jalis Ironhammer, King of the northern shiverpeaks.

If we thought our trip to Kryta would be uneventful after we escaped the infested Charrlands we were wrong.  Very wrong.  It seems unrest has spread through the Shiverpeaks, and possibly even to Kryta. The dwarves are amidst a civil revolution.  A group of dwarves, under the misguided malice of Maguuman Justiciars have decided to rebel against good King Jalis, and they plague his lands slaying innocents and former allies alike.  There are centaurs and rogues, heading in to the mountains where it was easier to pillage and thieve.  We must continue though.  As far as I know, Kryta is free still.  To the captial, Lions Arch, is where we aim to head.    Osiric warns us the way to Borlis is blocked by these rebel dwarves, the Stone Summit they call themselves, are murdering anyone who attempts to pass in to safety.  They are looking to succede Jalis and change the shiverpeak order.  They will fail, I know it. Unless they and their "power" Jusiticars can provide some foreign powers and enemies, they will never defeat Jalis.

I met Cynn along the way.  I remember her from my training before the searing.  Always sour-faced and jealous, her attitude much paralelled her specialty for fire magic, and burning passion.  She and Mhenlo, the monk from Cantha, are together I hear.  Oh to find love in such turmoil, they are truly blessed.  If only she didn't want to incinerate anyone he speaks to.

We arrive at Borlis Pass.  The dwarves here proved no match for my crew, and our new additions of Dunham, an enchanter, a very flamboyant and dramatic man, and Little Thom, a bearded barrel of a man.  He and Devona would make a perfect match I think.  I should introduce them should they survive long enough to be in the same place at the same time.