Groht Arautok (Bighill)
Groht Arautok (Bighill)
A dwarf artisan with an obsession for stone. He is passionate about the Dethek language and uses it to imbue his stonecrafts with magic properties.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Square.
Groht is tall for a dwarf, but from a distance you wouldn't be able to tell as he is almost as wide as he is tall.
Not overly muscular, but thanks to a life of hard physical labor he has become quite sturdy.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Born to loving Dwarf parents as Groht (a fairly uncommon name because of how simple it is), named for his parents' hope for him to grow up to be strong and reliable like the stone around them.
Raised in the dwarven hold of Dogdor into a respectable, but not very noteworthy clan of artisans.
He is the oldest of three siblings, having two younger sisters, Aelur and Tolir, born a few decades after him. Because of the big difference in age, he doesn't see his sisters much differently than he does other members of his clan and thus does not have a strong relationship with them.
Groht has lived in Dogdor for most of his life, venturing down to the orc settlement Kyzur only a handful of times at best.
Gender Identity
Groht is a traditional man from a traditional society.
Sexuality
Dwarfs are not very sexual beings. Due to their long lifespans and the importance of the clan they form long lasting relationships and care more for the comfortable warmth of love than the fire of passion.
As such, they also don't feel much attraction towards other races.
Groht is attracted to female dwarves, but has not had any relationships in the past.
A female dwarf in the traditional clothes of Dogdor might get him a little excited.
Education
Dwarves spend a large part of their long lives learning, most of the time as apprentices to skilled masters. Groht is no different, having had a lot of apprenticeships under different masters in order to grow as a craftsman.
Most notably, he would've been next in line to become an apprentice under the head craftsmaster of the Baroklith guild.
Employment
Groht has worked his way up to the title of Great Artisan within his guild. Before setting off to study under Elaria, he was a stonecrafter and engraver, making things like statues, mosaics, and coffins.
Failures & Embarrassments
He and the rest of the Wildfires were defeated and humiliated by the Order of the Ghostslayer and the betrayal of their party member Tao. Groht has sworn vengeance upon the betrayer and the guildmaster.
Morality & Philosophy
He is a very lawful individual, but as he doesn't know much about life outside of his home, he follows the laws of Dogdor and doesn't care much for what others think.
While not a believer in the philosophy that might makes right, he does believe that merit warrants respect.
Taboos
Stone is a noble material and must be treated with respect. Not doing so will anger Groht greatly.
The beard is an important status symbol among dwarves, but with the prominent ancestor worship in Dogdor it is even more important. Disrespecting a Dogdor dwarf's beard is like spitting on the tombs of his ancestors. Cutting a beard in disrespect will bring about a grudge that can only be righted with the loss of a limb.
Breaking the law brings disgrace upon your ancestors, so most dwarfs are very reluctant to do so. If Groht was ever forced to break a law due to the actions of a party member, he will hold a grudge against them.
Personality Characteristics
Likes & Dislikes
Likes
- Rocks
- Stones
- Minerals
- Snow
Dislikes
- Heat
- Swamps
- Rude people
Virtues & Personality perks
Loyal to his allies.
Vices & Personality flaws
Distrustful and very vengeful.
Personality Quirks
Generally avoids the use of names when speaking to or about others, a quirk of the Dogdor culture, where people are referred to by their title.
If something annoys him enough to invoke a grudge, he will immediately take out his book to keep track of it.
Hygiene
As dwarves value hard work, they generally don't consider grime and sweat to be dirty.
However, keeping one's equipment clean and well-maintained is paramount.
Social
Contacts & Relations
- Elaria Feywing, master in arcana
- Miirioth Cirrach, friend, and teacher in martial arts
- Kikka Inuyama, close ally
Speech
Direct and to the point. Groht does not like to waste words on flowery language and will often state his opinion even if it isn't called for.
He does not consider himself rude.
Wealth & Financial state
He has worked as a rather skilled stonecrafter and a notable engraver within his guild for a while, which allowed him to save up a decent chunk of money.
Though most of his money was left with his family to pay for his quarters while he travels.
Groht is short, stout, and grumpy. A Dwarf artisan hailing from Dogdor, he puts great pride in his work.
Character Location
Alignment
Lawful
Honorary & Occupational Titles
- of Dogdor
- of the Sammrune clan
- Great Artisan of the Baroklith Guild
Age
109 years old
Birthplace
Dogdor
Children
Current Residence
Parabor, The Master's Mansion
Gender
Male
Eyes
Dark brown
Hair
Everywhere except his head
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Dusty
Height
5 ft 1 or 155 Kenti-marks
Weight
175 lbs or 80 thorden
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Hunt for the Horn
Primsday, 27th of October, 1799
The swamp sucks.
No interesting rocks anywhere, just a big bastard of a lizard. None of us had ever seen anything like it. It was even larger than an Aurochs and had massive horns, so we assumed that was the beast we were sent out to collect. The pronged horns were at the front of its head, meaning that it would likely charge at us if we let it. So we had to find a way to restrict its movements, or at the very least make it difficult for the thing to charge. Back in the Vale I had found a scroll for the spell Entangle, and this seemed as good a time as any. I quickly cast the spell, as the scroll turned to ash and vines grew out from the shallow layer of water.
A Strange Introduction
Primsday, 27th of October, 1799
As we entered town, a strange feeling washed over me. The streets were empty, but I felt the sensation of being watched. The gith had taken us here, saying it was his home, promising that it would be a safe place for the eye. Had we been too rash putting our trust in him?
I looked for the gith, trying to see if I could glean any hidden thoughts, but instead met the gaze of an unknown dragonborn who seemed to be approaching us. The dragonborn directed us towards the chief's house, one who the gith appeared to be very familiar with. I still could not shake the strange feeling in my gut, but I also doubted our "quest" as it was. Simply carrying the Eye had made us a target of thugs and mercs. Not to mention the looming threat of the undead that were undoubtedly interested as well.
That thought left my mind as the gith knocked on the chief's door. We were greeted by a large, blue-scaled dragonborn, who took an interest in the little dragon. The blue dragonborn excitedly explained that they were both descended from the same tribe. A tribe that had split on bad terms after decades of civil war, something that Daisy seemed to be unaware of. The little dragon learned about the history of his people, although it was a dreary one... I felt a slight bit of kinship in this.
As we spoke, the chief invited us in for a meal. A half-elf boy served us, introducing himself to be the chief's adoptive son. The chief spoke of the history of the village, and how they were skilled craftsmen, the half-boy offering to create an instrument to celebrate the reunion of lost tribe members. Learning of the techniques of other craftsmen always piques my interest, but this half-boy claimed to be able to craft an instrument able to withstand the corrosive breath of the little dragon. But the material required to forge such an instrument will be challenging to acquire. We were tasked to hunt down a beast in the swamps of Palud Vivente and take its horn.
To Palud Vivente
Primsday, 27th of October, 1799
The road to Palud Vivente was long, and fortunately, quite uneventful---I've had my fill of bandits. The merchant dragonborn was not very talkative and didn't seem to want to share much about his hometown. Which surprised me, as merchants are usually the type that never shuts their mouths. And with how little the gith has shared about his home, this has me on my toes. Was allowing this gith to guide us really the best choice? What if he really was an agent of the Pact?
Oct 22nd
On the first day of travel, I decided to ask the gith some more questions about his home. If he wanted us to trust him, he had to earn it. But almost every question I asked was deflected, and the ones he did answer, he confidently stated that he didn't know. Dread began to gnaw at my mind as I turned my sight to the child I had entrusted with the Eye.
Had I unwittingly sentenced him to death?
Oct 23rd
To give myself time to think, I started carving away at some of the stones in my pouch. If this gith is truly aligned with the Pact, we were already trapped. We somehow made it just in time for the only cart leaving in the timespan of a month; This had to have been planned. But that also meant that the merchant driving the cart was a part of the trap. None of the others seem to have caught on yet, but if I tell them now, there's no doubt that the gith will hear. I'll have to keep my wits about me.
Oct 24th
Overjoyed they were, when I presented the party with the pieces I had been carving. Pieces of games I had enjoyed in my childhood, and sometimes still do today. I explained the rules and showed them how to play. Seeing them this excited put a smile on my face. I missed that feeling.
I miss home...
Oct 25th
Our conversation had led us to weapons, since most of us came from Kuta Ukrypt, I wondered if any of them wielded Dogdor-made weapons. I wasn't surprised to learn that Inuyama had their own smiths, but I didn't know that the dragonborn also made their own. A tiny forge on the open plains seems terribly inadequate compared to the mountainhearts Baroklith uses.
The gith wanted to show off his own weapon. I had already taken an interest in it due to his unique fighting style. Since he uses his weapons to channel his unique form of magical energy, there might be something I could learn from the circuits engraved into the blade.
But as I inspected this bone dagger, I was surprised to find that there were no circuits embedded, no markings engraved. The craftsmanship was decent, but the material was interesting. The bone was much denser and smoother than any I had seen before. Could the material be the key?
Oct 26th
We were getting close to Palud Vivente now, having only about a day of travel left. But the younger ones had run themselves dry, now laying on the floor of the cart out of boredom. Until the child suggested they draw on the barrel we had purchased in Tamia. I did not join in, but Ori seemed eager to engage with them. The amount of magical power and energy it took to first imbue life back into that stone almost made me faint from exhaustion. But now, the little bugger is able to appear on his own. Is it because I've gotten more skilled with magic, or is it because of the lingering energy building up in his stone?
I wonder if I could find any more of these fossils.
Oct 27th
On the morning of Primsday, we finally arrived in Palud Vivente. The journey made me reflect on this last month, and how much had happened since the Master died. The grudge is still fresh in my mind, and though I long to return home, I will not stop until the Master is avenged.
The Dragonborn's Cart
Unsday, 22nd of October, 1799
As the sun rose on a new Unsday, the breakfast conversations were terribly odd. The child spoke of having defeated an old hag and saving one of the singers they came here to see. Even the little dragon was gloating about how they had stolen something from the hag and were rewarded with stacks of platinum pieces. I made a mental note to never let them out on their own again. There goes my research time...
--
The next stop on our journey would be Palud Vivente. The gith had asked us to travel there to meet with his guild, claiming that they would know how to keep the Eye safe. While I am still suspicious of this man, he has proven himself to be a loyal ally. He claims that their goal is the same as ours, so we have no true reason to mistrust them. At the very least I'm willing to give them a chance.
Palud Vivente would be quite a ways travel, so we elected to find a cart headed in that direction. It wouldn't be much faster, but at the very least we wouldn't have to walk the whole way. So, we made our way to the traversal hub of Tamia, finding any semblance of an office that managed travel between settlements. They were able to quickly point us in the direction of a dragonborn merchant that was about to return homeward. A shrewd merchant he was, asking for a sum of 50 gold pieces for the luxury of cart travel. It was the only cart headed for Palud Vivente for the foreseeable future, so I was only able to haggle it down to 30. Introducing himself as Tilmuthir, he informed us that we'd have to provide our own supplies, as he had only packed enough for himself, not expecting passengers. But how hard could it be to find some water and food?
--
We were running back to meet at the agreed-upon time, just barely making it as the merchant was about to head off. How was it this hard to find a bloody barrel in a town of this size?!
Stone Defender - Research Notes 1
Edsay, 21st of October, 1799
The next morning, the others left once more. I'm not entirely sure what they were going to do, but they spoke about "some annoying lion man".
In any case, I'm not going to reject the opportunity to get some work done on my stone defender project. With all the things that happened since the Master's death, I have not yet had the chance to continue my research.
One of the many reasons I came to find the Master's knowledge was to figure out the process of developing a stone defender. The stone defender is a variant of a golem, but it is far more intelligent, almost possessing its own personality. But that is all according to the old texts that I found in the archives of the Baroklith hall. I have yet to see one in person, and I don't even know if they ever truly existed. I do not doubt the words of my forebearers, but this craft, this technology, seems so far beyond what I or any of the other craftsmen in Dogdor are capable of. Creating a reconstruction of life through the power of runes...
Wait...
The eye, I must study the eye!
Restoration and the creation of false life, are the domains of Necromancy! And when I analysed the eye back in Parabor, I could sense the immense Necromantic powers flowing through it. In theory, if I could figure out the arcane circuits that channel the flow of energy through the eye, I could replicate a part of it. Though I will have to be incredibly careful when I do so, as the eye itself seems to hunger for life.
--
I traced the paths throughout the eye, slowly but surely deconstructing their applications. It was a tangled mess of shifting circuits and beads of power. It became clear to me that this wasn't a mere artifact created by some powerful cult. This was a thing of true evil. It was organic, not arcane as I had expected, but calling it natural would be... indecent. Mangled and mutated flesh lay within, and that was merely what I could gather from the outside.
There are few masters of the arcane back home, so I am unfamiliar with the physical processes involved in becoming a more powerful spellcaster. But this is beyond any of my expectations. Is this truly how magic is intended to work? Is this the sacrifice one has to make in order to harness its power? Or is this a gross misuse?
I pondered for a few hours after this, reviewing my notes from previous research.
The natural circuits I found in the herbs and plants in Dolor were far more refined, truly integrated into the organism, as if the entire construction was a part of the arcane flow. No, this proved to me that the eye was altered in some way, probably by its original owner, in an attempt to grow stronger. This was the effect of overwhelming evil powers on the body. Shaping it to be nothing more than a vessel.
And unfortunately, this was also the answer I was looking for. I need a way to infuse stronger magic into the defender if I want to channel the energy it needs to function. Something my runes are incapable of doing, at least with the techniques I'm using now.
I need to learn more.
But how? And where?
A Relaxing Day
Krasday, 20th of October, 1799
I was the first one awake this day. I wanted to make the most of the time I would have to myself, so I went into the common area of the inn to get some food. The keeper seemed a bit hesitant, but provided something I would consider at least edible. I was genuinely excited for the day ahead, but I had one final preparation to make. The night before, I had been reading through my notes on runecarving, and I discovered a technique I had not attempted in a while.
Old Speaker Komyn was the one who ignited my passion for words. Her stories, and the power they held, were what inspired me to start researching the forgotten techniques of runecarving. And as I reminisced, one of my favorite stories retold itself in my dreams---The story of the dragon.
The runes I carve follow patterns. Sometimes it's as simple as carving the meaning of a spell into an object in order to produce an effect, while other times it involves redirecting the arcane circuits within. But stories, especially when worded just right, hold tremendous power of their own. It's almost as if whatever force governs the arcane enjoys the tales told through the runes, and grants them power as a gift. And that dream of my past inspired me.
The others had made their way down at this point; geared up and ready to take off. I approached the little dragon to ask him for his armor, and without much hesitation, he handed it over.
This would become my canvas for today.
--
I spent most of the day meticulously carving the runes into the little dragon's mail. The rings were sturdy and thick, giving me more than ample space to work with. I wondered if the chains were orc-made. There were obviously some techniques used that were taught or inspired by the smiths from Dogdor, but lacked the steady hand required to perfect them.
After carving the runes, I spoke the tale aloud as I retraced them in the air. Each word glowed with faint light as I spoke its sound.
I handed it back to him after he came back from the concert.
The little dragon has protected us many times before, but this should make his job easier.
Into Tamia
Eyday, 19th of October, 1799
As we woke the next morning, I showed the old lady my work. She seemed happy to see her partner's work finally realized, but also torn about the finality of it all. I offered to give it to her, but she said she had no need. She hoped that it would keep us safe, should danger come for us... I could see in her eyes that she knew of our burden.
The mood quickly lightened as the rest of the party started packing for the trip to Tamia. Everyone seemed excited to go to the concert. I wasn't planning on joining, but that also made me excited. It had been a while since I last had the chance to tinker, so a bit of peace was very welcome. I might even be able to finish my golem project.
We set off to Tamia once more, this time with the old lady up front to set the pace. As expected, it was a little slower than we had traveled before, but it proved to be worthwhile. A group of bandits was about to try their luck, until they noticed the old gnome. A stern look and the glint of a bomb in her satchel quickly put them in their place.
The sky was slowly turning red as we finally reached Tamia, so we made our way to an inn the old lady often stays. I rented a room for myself, as I wasn't planning on leaving it until the others were finished with their concert expedition.
I wished them good luck, and started setting up my workstation.
A Weapon Crafted
Eyday, 19th of October, 1799
We stayed the night at the old gnome's abode. I spent most of it chipping away at the schematics we had found. They were crude and obviously unfinished, but I still could not find any reason as to why the old lady was unable to follow them. Especially since they were made by her partner in business and life.
But perhaps that was the reason. Perhaps she was unintentionally sabotaging herself every time she tried to craft the work, in an effort to hold on to the one thing her lost partner had left unfinished. For if it was finished, well... it would be too late now. As when I finished that thought, I snapped out of my trance. The weapon was done.
I am familiar with firearms, they were never my favorite, but the things I learned under Armsmaster Ulddon will always stay in my mind. That man is a true master, and I'm convinced he could teach even the little dragon how to forge a gun. But the weapon laying before me is different than any of the ones I've seen before. I've got no shot to test it out, but I am confident in my craftsmanship. Besides, firing this gun will surely wake everyone up. There should be a few hours left before the sun rises, time to get some rest.
I wonder what the old lady will think of it.
The Old Lady's Abode
Vensday, 18th of October, 1799
Continuing on from that shocking experience, we traveled further along the road and happened across a tiny shack. It was getting dark, so we approached it, looking for a safer place to stay the night.
As we knocked on the door, we were greeted by an elderly gnome. She let us in without much question, probably used to travelers. The old lady was very friendly and allowed us to stay, even offering us tea.
I took a moment to speak to the Duergar, as I only felt it reasonable to thank him for protecting me during our encounter with the bandits. But I still don't like him.
The rest of the party seemed to be very suspicious of the old lady, probably thinking that she was the leader of the thugs that had been sent after us. Why they would even consider that a possibility, I have not a clue.
In the living room, there was a door, blocked off by a chair. The others seemed very interested in that door and wanted to know what lay beyond. While I expected nothing more than a simple storeroom, they revealed a workshop, filled with gunpowder of all things. It hadn't been used in a while.
The poor old lady was, unsurprisingly, shocked that her guests would be so rude as to disturb her privacy like that. And at that moment I stepped in to apologize for the behaviour of the others, scolding them for not thinking before doing. The child was upset, saying that the voice in his head had instructed him to do so.
I might have to find a less crazy group...
The poor old lady explained to us that she and her partner were the ones that had invented gunpowder, and by extension, firearms as a whole. Meaning that her partner was one of the members of the Master's party. One who suffered an unfortunate end. A fact that the old lady was seemingly unaware of.
Even though the party had been terribly rude guests, the old lady allowed us to stay, and even invited us to travel with her to Tamia. She spoke of something called a concert, where a group of musicians would be performing. I have no interest, but the others seemed quite excited.
I'll make myself useful and see if I can fix the schematics the old lady had been working on.
Bandits on the Trail
Vensday, 18th of October, 1799
As we made our way toward Tamia, we came across a lone traveler, resting under a tree. When I approached the bastard, he revealed his weapon and attacked us, aided by unseen allies that had surrounded us.
A short battle ensued, with us coming out on top. The skills the little dragon had taught me proved very beneficial, but I still feel like I could improve more.
And I must remind myself to be careful when striking the horned one, he is able to counterattack with hellish fire.
During the battle, the duergar had stepped in to block a strike aimed at me. I felt shame in that moment, but I also recognized something. This duergar must truly have been a student of the Master. Perhaps there is more to him than I was lead to believe. I must thank him for protecting me, as, even though he is a duergar, my honor would not let me ignore that.
---
With the bandit plans thoroughly thwarted, we were discussing our next step. When suddenly, a bolt of lightning cracked down from the heavens and nearly burned my beard clean off. Luckily the little dragon splashed the contents of his waterskin on me to quickly douse the flame.
But why was I struck? While it pains me to admit it, natural lighting would've struck one of the taller party members. And it probably would've done a lot more damage. Were we being followed by a spellcaster? Looking about the open plains around us, there was no one to be seen. My mind went over all the possibilities. Why me specifically?
I was the one carrying the Eye.
As that thought crossed my mind, I immediately checked my pouch. The Eye was fine. But that also raised more questions.
To be safe, I handed the Eye over to the child. If the lighting came from some source of evil, a cleric would probably be a lot more resilient than me.
And if the lightning came from one of the gods, well, the child always claimed to have one on his side.
On to Tamia
Dorday, 17th of October, 1799
The party had decided to bring the Eye to the gith's organization. They specialized in dealing with the undead, so it only made sense.
But to get there, we first have to make our way to Tamia, there we can take a wagon. Getting to Tamia will take a couple of days.
We set off in the morning, the gith taking the lead once more. Rain started to fall, but the day passed by without much note. Looking back, I don't know if letting him lead was the smartest idea.
The Journey Ahead
Silday, 16th of October, 1799
In the morning I trained with the little dragon, I knew he was a skilled fighter, but he proved to be a skilled teacher as well. Though it has only been a day, I feel quite confident in the skills he shared with me.
It made me start to rethink my role in all of this. This little band of fools, we were all chosen by the Master to continue on with her quest. And I would see none of them fall.
I will be their shield, but to become that, I will have to grow stronger. And to do that, I will need better tools.
That's when I was struck by inspiration. I took out the Eye from my pouch and started to study it. I took it to my room and placed it on my workbench. There was no way for me to break it open and study its magical circuits, but I might be able to glean some knowledge by observing its aura.
I took a large slab of rock that I was using for my other project, and I started to carve out rune circuits. I formed multiple rings and gutters for the energy to flow through.
As I lay the Eye in the center of the slab, I could immediately see the circuits starting to flare up. This artifact was terrifyingly powerful. And at that moment, the slab shattered, breaking the circuits. There was no way I could harness all of this dark energy safely.
But I could mimic it.
While the Eye radiated a lot of magic, it also drew energy in from the Weave. If I could craft a circuit that followed the same pattern, I might be able to harness some of its necrotic magic.
--
As the day drew to a close, I tested my theory. Activating the circuit, I felt reinvigorated. But it was strange, cold even. It felt unlike the comforting healing energy of the stone, but somehow still familiar.
I heard murmurs coming from the dining room.
Master Dragon
Tranday, 15th of October, 1799
We had claimed the Eye, and as we made our way back to the Master's mansion, I spoke to the little dragon.
I asked him if he could teach me some of his skills.
During our encounter with the undead, I felt useless. None of my shots hit their mark. Even worse, the one time I did manage to hit one of the bastards, it didn't even seem to phase it.
All it took was one swipe, and I was brought to my knees.
The little dragon stood firm during that fight. He was even courageous enough to approach the tree that I had set on fire, just to check one more time.
I had had military training, as all in Dogdor would. But I never cared much for it, spending all of my time refining my stonecarving craft.
Not that I could blame myself, I never came here to become a fighter, I just wanted to learn more about magic from the Master. Why am I going through with her request anyway?
No, I know why. I just don't know if I am able to.
Trails of Death
Tranday, 15th of October, 1799
As we woke from our sleep, we realized that none of us felt rested.
It wasn't just the water, it almost felt as if the air itself was sucking on our strength.
We have to get out of here as soon as possible.
Soon after packing up, we set off, journeying further into the forest.
Today, the gith took the lead. He seemed to be more confident than before. And it wasn't long before he picked up a trail.
Disgusting veins, emitting a morbid kind of energy, spread along the floor and up the trees.
Was this caused by what the Master had hidden here? Did she know that it would have this effect? Or did it only start corrupting the forest after she died?
As we followed this trail of corruption, we came upon a clearing. A single dead tree, surrounded by a barren circle of dirt. This tree was definitely the source.
Fearing that there might've been some sort of curse protecting or emanating from the tree, I prepared to test it.
It grew dark around us.
As I drew the first runes onto my rock, we were surprised by a disfigured monster sneaking up behind us.
And before we even had the chance to ready our weapons, we were assaulted by what seemed like the wind itself. Foul spirits rent our very souls with their claws.
I was lucky to remain standing as one struck me, sucking away all of my energy in an instant, I had never felt a pain quite the same. My weapons and armor, my trusty stone, I could barely muster the strength to lift my arms under its weight.
Then, as if to answer a desperate prayer, a flame shot out from the darkness.
The figure of an elven woman, wielding magic fire, came and fought alongside us. With newfound strength, we managed to strike down these foul creatures.
But, after having suffered such weakness, I felt humbled. My confidence was damaged, and I didn't know how to heal it.
When that spirit hit me, I felt fear, genuine fear. I was scared to die.
Just as the final monster fell, the fire-wielding elf vanished as quickly as she had appeared. Sharing not even a word with us.
The others wondered if the Master's spirit had come to protect us. I knew better, yet kept my tongue.
It made me think back on the time I had spent with the Master, and all the lessons she had taught me.
As I drifted away in thought, I was quickly pulled back by the sound of the little dragon's voice.
"There are people in there!"
I looked up, the tree was on fire, the dragon dodging flaming branches, and in my hands my grudge thrower, still warm from the shot.
I rushed in to put out the fire I had started, throwing handful after handful of the cold dirt onto the burning tree. The others joined in, and together we were able to extinguish the flames.
The dragon started to claw away at the smoldering remains of the tree, saying that he had seen something inside.
At that moment, a round pebble tumbled out from the remains of the tree.
An eye.
We had found what we were looking for, the Eye of Death, as described in the Master's book. I didn't expect it to be so... unassuming.
I stowed it in a pouch for safekeeping, as we checked the surroundings for any monsters that would try to take it.
All clear.
Filthy Water
Masday, 14th of October, 1799
I don't feel great. Why am I so tired?
Oh right, the water. I can still feel the stabbing pain in my gut.
We were suddenly attacked by some strange creature. I've never seen anything like it and I hope I never will again.
It had the face of a spider and moved through the trees. While ugly, it was a great way to let off some steam.
We were able to rest a bit afterwards, but I can tell that most of the party is feeling the effects of the water. What fools we were to just drink from a stream in a forest like this, who knows what filth we took in?
I prefer not to think of it now, even my Dwarven stomach churns at the thought of what -
Nope, gonna stop.
It's so dark in this forest, I can barely tell time is passing.
Accursed Woods
Primsday, 13th of October, 1799
I did not join the others this morning. My fury has not cooled, and I do not intend to let it until I avenge this grudge.
How dare that traitorous bastard speak to me like that. Great grandfathers, I beg of you, take his mind once more, he does not deserve the Dwarven wit.
As the morning went on, the party decided that we should follow up on the note we found in the Master's spellbook. We would head for Dolor Forest.
I considered staying in the Master's mansion while the rest went out, but that bastard would stay, so quickly I changed my mind.
--
As we approached the accursed forest, it seemed even more dreadful than before. As if some sort of presence wanted to prevent us from entering.
We carved a path through the wilderness, I lead the way. The Master had taken me here for training several times, but still, my memory betrayed me... or, was the forest different? Gah, how I long for the trusty stone of home.
Suddenly, a puffy-tailed rat jumped out in front of us. I aimed, fired, hit. Poof.
As the others inspected the remains, they found some enchanted artifact. I didn't need it, I can rely on my own runes.
We spent the better part of a day walking through the forest, but it did not feel like we made any progress. Every damn tree looks the same as the last. We set up camp next to a small stream, but that might've been a mistake. The water was foul, toxic even. Next time I should bring some alcohol.
I Hate That Bastard
Luxday, 12th of October, 1799
Last time I ever try doing anything nice.
I just wanted to eat something that wasn't eggs or onion, is that so much to ask?
Aside from that filthy rat trying to poison us all with its choice of ingredients, it all went so well. But then that bastard had to open his damned mouth!
I am writing this entry with one hand, while with the other I mark his crude excuse for a name into my book of grudges.
We should have left the bastard to rot in the mines.
It Talks?
Luxday, 12th of October, 1799
I still had some time left before the rest of the party returned. So, yearning for the taste of home, I decided to shop for some supplies.
It proved to be surprisingly challenging to find some good cave mushrooms in this mining town. I have to tell my cousin to start exporting dried mushrooms to Mor when I return home.
I settled for Browncaps and was lucky to find some Rothe meat. It doesn't compare to the Aurochs meat from back home, but it's better than nothing.
As I made my way back to the Master's mansion, I thought about the Duergar. Would the rest of the party have made their way back by now? How would that lass at the temple have responded to seeing a Duergar?
"Not my problem" I thought as I went to open the door. But at that moment I heard the rest of the party coming up the hill.
They'd done it. They had fixed the broken bastard's mind, and now he could talk like a normal person.
How I wished he couldn't.
An Interesting Tooth
Luxday, 12th of October, 1799
With the excitement of the morning over, and our guest "safely" returned to the child's watchful eyes, I decided to take a moment to think. The rest of the party went and took the Duergar to the priestess in an attempt to restore his mind. Ha, I do wonder if he ever had one to begin with.
But I did need a moment to collect my thoughts. So I went for the wizard's general store to see if he could tell me about the tooth I found on the red devourer. I wanted to know if it contained any latent magic I could use for future runes. The wizard recognized it to be a pseudodragon's, and he informed me of the blacksmith's child's affinity for the like.
As I entered the blacksmith's store, I was greeted by two excited halfling children. When I presented the tooth, the child's eyes lit up like gemstones struck by their first rays of sunlight. The child did not seem to know much more about the tooth than the wizard had already told me, but he was so enthralled by the tooth, he offered to buy it from me.
I would not take the money of a child, but who knows, maybe he'll repay me some other way.
They Lost the Duergar
Luxday, 12th of October, 1799
I had spent the night thinking. Milling through my thoughts in my sleep.
Why did the Master trust a Duergar? HOW did the Master trust a Duergar? Would she have let it sleep under her roof?
As I awoke, I was glad to see my bed not stained by blood. Though the noise it made, rummaging around its room, had kept me on edge. Making my way to the kitchen, I greeted the rest of the party. As always, the tiefling was eager to cook breakfast. I was not eager to eat the tiefling's breakfast.
I urged him to sit and prepared a traditional breakfast for the rest. Though I would not call myself a great cook, my mother did not raise a fool. "A good meal makes for good work."
The storeroom was dreadfully understocked on usable produce. I do wonder how the tiefling had cooked for us before, but I decided not to dwell on it for too long, as the answer probably would've been too much for even my stomach.
Then, the child's eyes widened, a realization. Where was his "guest"?
The rambling bastard had trashed its room. I wondered if it even knew the utility of a chamber pot. I had warned them. Now they were going to see the error of their ways. Yet the tiefling had the guts to try to accuse me of not keeping an eye out.
Yet I was not the one that invited a traitor into my own home, now was I?
But, I could not let their foolish actions bring harm to the people of Parabor. Who knows what that rambling bastard was capable of?
We split into groups, with the lizard staying behind to make "wanted posters". The Duergar was not the only one invited to our home. The strange orc from before had also joined us. Though I feel less worried about him, I still do not trust that this orc is here to help us.
But this was a good chance to observe him, the strange orc joined me in the search.
In my mind, there were only a few places the Duergar could have gone: Back into the mines; To the temple; Or to the Master's grave.
And right I was, for when we approached the Master's grave, there too, was the Duergar.
It approached the Master's grave, and I stopped it.
"Why?", I had asked it. It wished to see the Master, to hear the Master. "Do not touch the gravestone.", I had said to it, keeping a keen eye out for any suspicious actions.
Yet, suspicious it was not. It was, familiar.
As it sat for a moment, it reached into a satchel, and presented the Master with a gift. A Citrine gem.
I don't know if it was a conscious choice. Did he just have the gem on him, or did he specifically choose that one?
Maybe there was more to this Duergar than I thought.
The Lost Duergar
Aksday, 11th of October, 1799
The child had decided to take the babbling Duergar under his wing. He seemed really proud of it too, as if he had achieved some greater goal.
But this rambling basketcase concerned me, not only because of its traitorous nature. It did not let on much, seemingly because it lacked the ability to do so. Yet its words kept coming back to the Master. It seemed keen on returning to the Master's mansion with us. Why? What connection did this misbegotten thing have to the Master?
Among the few words it did speak, was one that disturbed me deeply. "Brother" it called, seemingly at me.
How dare it. How DARE it. After all that the Duergar have done to my family, my clan, my people. It would disgust me to even call this creature a dwarf, let alone my "brother".
I would not have it, but the others backed the child. Fools. This misbegotten thing would cause us naught but trouble.
But even I could not deny, for whatever mysterious reason, the Master had entrusted it with the safekeeping of a spellbook. Quite a powerful spellbook at that.
"Fine."
I shall not lift a finger in aid to this thing. But if the others must take it in, out of respect for the Master, I will not end its miserable life. Yet.
Even as I write in my journal, I cringe at the thought of having this misbegotten thing sleeping under the same roof. I hope it does not come slit our throats in the night.
Another grudge for the book. I will not sleep well this night.
The Red Devourer in the Mines
Aksday, 11th of October, 1799
We met with the strange orc in Parabor and headed for the Cairgon Ranges. We did not know what to expect in the mines, but the word on the Master's map, fire, made my mind race through all the possible challenges we could face. Was it a hint for a puzzle? Would we be facing a fire giant, or worse, a dragon?
As we scaled the hills, the strange orc seemed to be so preoccupied with keeping tabs on us that he didn't watch his step. Ha! The fool. At that point, I realized we were not dealing with an assassin and I calmed down a bit.
When we arrived at the entrance of the mines, to our surprise, there was a guard keeping us from entering. He seemed to be quite upset about the things living in the mine. As we presented the documents we got from the mining guild's guildmaster, the guard let us pass. We attempted to gain some more information, but the guard knew little of the actual creatures.
The mine had been evacuated, quite recently it seemed as some food lay rotting, left by the miners. I took point, sensing the flow of air with my beard, and marking the walls with the chalk I bought. I did not know what we would be facing, but I sure knew that I did not want to get lost in some shabby mine.
As we made our way through the tunnels, we came across a stack of barrels, and at that moment a terrible red devourer appeared out of nowhere. I had heard tales from the miners that braved the Underdark. "Whatever you do, do not let it get close to you!" I shouted at the others as I ran to flank this aberration. But it was too late, the child, ravaged by fear from seeing this disgusting creature, ran towards the exit. The lizard was able to strike it with a thrown axe, and the orc started to cast what I can only describe as blood-fuelled magic. I had never even heard of such a feat, let alone seen it in person. I need to know more about this technique, it might be able to help me better understand the power of runes.
The red beast came for me, gibbering in a nonsensical ramble, I paid it no heed as I yelled back at it. I could feel it was trying to confuse me, as it had with the rest of the party, but I refused to let it break my mind. My shots singed its flesh and my strikes made it bleed, the lizard's axe nearly cleaved the beast in half, but it was the blade of the orc that brought the foul red devourer down.
It had been unable to land a hit on me, but the rest of the party was gravely wounded. We had spent our energy on this sudden fight and needed to catch our breath. I knew that there wouldn't be any other beasts nearby, as this aberration would've devoured them all.
Then it struck me, we were looking for an eye. Did the Master put this disgusting beast here as a test? I quickly checked all the eyes, but no, each eye was part of a matching pair. I claimed one of its teeth as a trophy.
When the rest of the party had regained some of their strength, we decided to head deeper into the mines. For the entire time we had rested, there had not been any sounds apart from our own. The mine was clear for the time being.
As we moved deeper in, the child suddenly stopped and said he saw a wooden structure up ahead. Frustratingly, he had better vision than me, so I was not able to see it from this distance. When I came in range I pulled out my crossbow, ready to burn the wooden structure down at the sign of anything strange. We were lucky to have survived the aberration, facing another threat could've been deadly.
I sent the lizard ahead to investigate, keeping my aim trained on the door. But the lizard stopped, he heard a noise from within. The rest of the party moved in while I kept my distance. They could not come to an agreement on a plan of approach. Tired of waiting, I took the most logical action and use Ori to knock on the door. A response came, but I could not hear it. The lizard talked to whoever was behind this wall, somehow convincing it to come out.
And when it did... I saw its sickly gray skin. A fucking Duergar.
A Strange Orc Approaches
Abonday, 10th of October, 1799
As we were preparing for our trip into the abandoned mines, we were approached by a stranger. A young orc, with a terrible yellow complexion and a slender figure, as if he had been ravaged by disease. The strange orc asked us even stranger questions. He knew about that dreadful necromancer, he knew about the Pact.
The child and lizard were unsurprisingly, not very good at keeping secrets and let this possible enemy know about the details of our adventure thus far. About how the Master was murdered, and we avenged her against this necromancer. And the strange orc responded, again in a strange manner, he himself had been sent by his order to slay the necromancer. It all felt a bit too coincidental, so I was wary and kept my tongue.
We were roughed up from our previous encounter, and we would not have been able to stand against this possible attacker without suffering losses ourselves. The child decided to invite the strange orc along, the lizard and the rest of the party agreed. They intended to bring the orc along to the Master's mansion, but I objected. Staying on friendly terms with a possible assassin is one thing, inviting them into your home is a step too far.
As the rest of the party rested their bruised bodies, I sharpened my axe, inspected my tools, and refined my runes. Whatever this strange orc had been planning, I would be ready.
Assaulted By Thugs
Abonday, 10th of October, 1799
Having just recovered from our fight with the necromancer the day before, I attempted to take a look at the map we found in the Master's vault. I recognized that the letters were Elven, but it was Coil who stepped in to translate. We discovered that the Elven word for "fire" was written over the Cairgon Ranges.
I knew that the mines in Cairgon had been shutting down for a while now, but I don't recall ever hearing a reason why. So we decided to visit the local mining guild to see if we could gain some information.
Upon arriving at the mining guild we were greeted by an exceptionally rude Goliath who appeared to be the guild master. I expressed my distaste at the poor state of the guild, especially for a town that is known as a mining village. The Goliath spat some nonsense about monsters in the mines. You've got pickaxes haven't you?
The Goliath said the monsters his workers saw were some "indescribable horrors" from the Underdark. Nonsense. There are hosts of beasts and other creatures to be found in the Underdark, all perfectly describable!
The other party members managed to convince this Goliath to give us permission to visit the mines. We had to take our permission slip to Yesla to get it officiated.
On our way to Yesla's office we were approached by a band of thugs. One of the thugs tried to grab Nox, but I chucked a stone at the bastard.
I took a few hits from the bastards, but I was able to ward them off with my Rune Sanctuary. The rest of my party was less fortunate, but Coil and Miirioth proved themselves to be fine warriors.
Miirioth even chucked one of the thugs down a well! HA! Impressed me well enough to dismiss my grudge against him for stealing my kill.
We tried to interrogate the bastards, but they filled our ears with naught but drivel. Something about a stinky Gnome in a different province. I took their gear.
We attempted to sell them off to the mining guild to help alleviate their personnel crisis, but the rude Goliath wasn't interested. Bah.
After a short rest, we continued on to Yesla. She told us our party needed a name to finish officiating the document. I guess our ragtag group of students is officially an adventuring party now.
Spirit of the Woods
Unsday 8th of October, 1799
The journey brought us to the cursed Dolor Forest to find an old pupil of the Master. Though, rather unfortunately, while her body had perished, her spirit still lingered.
Thus lay us the task of letting her pass on peacefully, by relieving her of her duty.
The pupil's spirit presented each of us with a challenge, a way for us to prove we had truly been taught by the Master.
She presented me with three stones, one smooth, one jagged, and one cracked, and asked me where each came from.
I took the smooth stone and put it against my nose, sniffing all along the side, letting my whiskers sense all details. This stone came from the lake near Parabor, it was made smooth by the currents of the river that brought it there.
I took the jagged stone and licked it. There were many flavours, but the distinct taste of truemetal shone through. This stone came from the Icebound Peaks, where truemetal is found. I tried to put it in my pouch, but the spirit got upset. I relented.
The final stone was cracked and I could see its contents within. I crushed it in between my hands. The fine powder shimmered as I let it rain down. This was an ore of silver from the Cairgon Ranges.
At that, the spirit seemed satisfied with my challenge and continued on with the rest of the party.
I did wonder how this proved I was the Master's student. Even little Tolir could have figured that all out.
The Hermit Dragonborn
Unsday, 8th of October, 1799
A friend of the Master lived on the cliffs near town, we went to visit him.
He asked us to share with him, our favorite memory of the Master.
In my normal manner, I was quick to dismiss this request, until one memory popped into my head.
I had had a moment of weakness. My family's ancestral death day had passed the day before and I hadn't been able to make a proper offering. Great grandfathers, this was the very first time in my life I hadn't been able to celebrate together with my family. I longed for the comfort of my quarters, for my workshop in the guildhall, for the warmth of my clan. I felt homesick.
"She gave me this, to remind me of home." I had said to the Dragonborn, showing him the hematite gem the Master had given me.
He seemed satisfied at that. I don't know if he pitied me, or if he was simply happy to know a new story.
A Beggar
Unsday, 8th of October, 1799
We came across a beggar. Some of our party decided to grace him with coin.
I thought he stunk.
The beggar reeked of death. With such a vile smell, no wonder he was out begging on the streets.
I took a stone from my pouch and traced out some runes. The stone began to glow and a pleasant aroma overwhelmed the stench.
I granted my stone to the beggar, yet he did not seem very grateful.
I added a grudge to my book that day.
The Master's Funeral
Eyday, 5th of October, 1799
The Master had passed away. It was in her sleep, so I could not even hold a grudge.
At the Master's funeral, the other students shared stories of their lessons. I held my tongue.
A dwarf can mourn, but he mourns in silence. For, no matter the grudges, no matter the achievements, the end comes for all. But those who pass are never forgotten.
I remembered the first lesson the Master shared with me, how stubborn I was. I would've held a grudge to myself if it hadn't been for my atonement in blood.
As it was my turn to speak, I pulled a stone from my satchel, a simple piece of sulabra, found near the lake. I carved it with basic runes, but I repeated the process again and again, reinforcing the magic within, until my chisel would carve no more.
The stone bore the fragrance of the flowers she had shown me. Sweet, but not unpleasantly so.
I placed it on the Master's grave, and thanked her.
The First Lesson
Unsday, 12th of March, 1799
I left my home to search for a master that could teach me more about magic. I was already approaching the limits of the known applications of runes, but I knew there had to be more. I knew there were many skilled artificers, crafting amazing magical items that my work didn't even come close to. There had to be more ways to guide the magic through an artifact.
The Master was famous around Skylark, even I in my mountain home had heard of her exploits.
As I arrived in Parabor, it did not take long for me to find the Master and ask her to share her knowledge. She seemed quite happy to accept me as her student, but had one condition: I had to keep an open mind. Now, it took much restraint not to open up my book of grudges for that comment, but I resigned myself to adding it later, as declaring the grudge then and there probably would've lost me my teacher.
I accepted her terms and was immediately taken into the forest for what would be my first "lesson".
The Master brought me to a clearing filled with flowers. Elves. I was about to turn back to civilization when the Master spoke up. She explained to me that these flowers harnessed magic naturally from their environment. As she picked one of the flowers, I could see the magical energy flow through its stem and petals. The Master took out a knife, placed it against her arm, and cut. Before the blood could even start flowing, the magical energy from the flower arced over to the cut and closed it up. Fascinating. She handed me the flower as she passed me, heading back to town.
I studied the flower until I could understand the entirety of the magical systems within. Then, struck by inspiration, I started carving. Forming the shape of the flower into a piece of gypsum using runes. As I carved the final rune it imbued the stone with magic. Three petals grew from the stone. Their texture was almost identical to the real plant, but they were obviously made from gypsum.
I grabbed my trusty hammer and smacked it on my thumb. Great grandfathers, it was a fine strike, but in my enthusiasm to test my theory I had forgotten about the pain. I picked one of the petals and put it on what was once my thumb. Nothing happened. I pushed it on tighter and tried to remember how the magical energy flowed and arced from the flower that day. Then, a flash and a spark. My thumb was healed.
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