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.

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.