The Recounted Chronicles of John Harrison Part I
by Dusterra Shadowthorn Custodian and Chronicler for Aezlebov Zobelo
Of all the people I have chronicled for Aezlebov, John Harrison seems like he will be a never ending font of stories of amazing adventures. I hope I have brought enough parchment and ink.
Mr. Harrison's abode exudes an air of mystery and fascination. The stained glass window adorning the entrance depicts him, a stout dwarf with a fiery red beard, standing proudly atop a hill, a radiant diamond in hand casting beams of light in all directions. His attire, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and cane, speaks of a seasoned adventurer.
As I step inside, the eclectic nature of his home greets me. Mounted animal heads gaze down from the walls, while glass-encased pedestals display an array of curious artifacts. My eyes wander to a tablet inscribed with ancient runes, a sizable egg petrified through time, and even what appears to be the preserved head of a tabaxi adorning the doorway.
John, far from the typical image of a dwarf, offers me tea instead of ale as we settle in for our conversation. With a glint in his eye, he inquires about my interests, and I request a tale shrouded in obscurity. His response is immediate and eager, "I've got just the story for you, lass."
The narrative unfolds in the desolate expanse known as the Wasteland of Woe. Venturing into the bustling marketplace of Souk, John immerses himself in its vibrant culture and diligently gathers information. His quest leads him to the fabled Ancient Library, sunken beneath the shifting sands of the desert.
Guiding a band of hired hands, John navigates the unforgiving terrain until a peculiar sight catches his attention—a gaping hole in the side of a mesa. Undeterred by the warnings of his companions, he presses on, descending into the depths below.
Amidst the subterranean labyrinth, they stumble upon a grim tableau—the lifeless forms of drow, some petrified, others reduced to dust, and a few bearing the scorched marks of an otherworldly energy. Recognition dawns on John's face, for he knows all too well the creature responsible—a Beholder...
As they huddled in the shadows, the looming presence of the Beholder passed by, its numerous eye stalks scanning the cavern with a malevolent intensity. Hearts pounding, they dared not even breathe until the creature moved on, leaving them trembling in its wake.
With cautious steps, they continued their descent into the depths, the darkness swallowing them whole as they ventured deeper and deeper. Hours seemed to stretch into eternity, the only illumination coming from the bioluminescent lichen that adorned the walls, casting the cavern in a surreal rainbow of pinks, greens, blues, and purples.
Finally, they emerged into a vast cavern, its ceiling reaching dizzying heights that vanished into the inky blackness above. As they gazed in awe at the sprawling expanse before them, their wonder was shattered by the sudden appearance of drow, emerging from the shadows with weapons drawn.
A fierce battle ensued, arrows wisped passed them. One of which caught one of them in the chest, his life extinguished in a blink of an eye. But they managed to break free from the drow's grasp, stumbling blindly down a hole and into the unknown depths below.
As they emerged into the great expanse, their eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before them—a vast underground lake stretching out into the darkness, with a magnificent pyramid rising from its center. Its obsidian stone exterior gleamed in the faint light, capped with solid gold that glinted like a beacon in the shadows.
"This might not be the library," John mused, his voice tinged with excitement, "but it's just as intriguing." As they watched, a beam of energy shot up from the tip of the pyramid, bathing the cavern in a gentle blue glow. Yet, there seemed to be no entrance into the structure, leaving its secrets tantalizingly out of reach.
With a thoughtful expression, John rose to his feet, his mind already racing with possibilities. "More tea, lass?" he asked with a wry grin, I looked down at my full cup of tea that had grown cold as he went to the kitchen to refill his own.
Of all the people I have chronicled for Aezlebov, John Harrison seems like he will be a never ending font of stories of amazing adventures. I hope I have brought enough parchment and ink.
Mr. Harrison's abode exudes an air of mystery and fascination. The stained glass window adorning the entrance depicts him, a stout dwarf with a fiery red beard, standing proudly atop a hill, a radiant diamond in hand casting beams of light in all directions. His attire, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and cane, speaks of a seasoned adventurer.
As I step inside, the eclectic nature of his home greets me. Mounted animal heads gaze down from the walls, while glass-encased pedestals display an array of curious artifacts. My eyes wander to a tablet inscribed with ancient runes, a sizable egg petrified through time, and even what appears to be the preserved head of a tabaxi adorning the doorway.
John, far from the typical image of a dwarf, offers me tea instead of ale as we settle in for our conversation. With a glint in his eye, he inquires about my interests, and I request a tale shrouded in obscurity. His response is immediate and eager, "I've got just the story for you, lass."
The narrative unfolds in the desolate expanse known as the Wasteland of Woe. Venturing into the bustling marketplace of Souk, John immerses himself in its vibrant culture and diligently gathers information. His quest leads him to the fabled Ancient Library, sunken beneath the shifting sands of the desert.
Guiding a band of hired hands, John navigates the unforgiving terrain until a peculiar sight catches his attention—a gaping hole in the side of a mesa. Undeterred by the warnings of his companions, he presses on, descending into the depths below.
Amidst the subterranean labyrinth, they stumble upon a grim tableau—the lifeless forms of drow, some petrified, others reduced to dust, and a few bearing the scorched marks of an otherworldly energy. Recognition dawns on John's face, for he knows all too well the creature responsible—a Beholder...
As they huddled in the shadows, the looming presence of the Beholder passed by, its numerous eye stalks scanning the cavern with a malevolent intensity. Hearts pounding, they dared not even breathe until the creature moved on, leaving them trembling in its wake.
With cautious steps, they continued their descent into the depths, the darkness swallowing them whole as they ventured deeper and deeper. Hours seemed to stretch into eternity, the only illumination coming from the bioluminescent lichen that adorned the walls, casting the cavern in a surreal rainbow of pinks, greens, blues, and purples.
Finally, they emerged into a vast cavern, its ceiling reaching dizzying heights that vanished into the inky blackness above. As they gazed in awe at the sprawling expanse before them, their wonder was shattered by the sudden appearance of drow, emerging from the shadows with weapons drawn.
A fierce battle ensued, arrows wisped passed them. One of which caught one of them in the chest, his life extinguished in a blink of an eye. But they managed to break free from the drow's grasp, stumbling blindly down a hole and into the unknown depths below.
As they emerged into the great expanse, their eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before them—a vast underground lake stretching out into the darkness, with a magnificent pyramid rising from its center. Its obsidian stone exterior gleamed in the faint light, capped with solid gold that glinted like a beacon in the shadows.
"This might not be the library," John mused, his voice tinged with excitement, "but it's just as intriguing." As they watched, a beam of energy shot up from the tip of the pyramid, bathing the cavern in a gentle blue glow. Yet, there seemed to be no entrance into the structure, leaving its secrets tantalizingly out of reach.
With a thoughtful expression, John rose to his feet, his mind already racing with possibilities. "More tea, lass?" he asked with a wry grin, I looked down at my full cup of tea that had grown cold as he went to the kitchen to refill his own.
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