Thazarr De'jassan
An enigmatic, brooding man - quiet and cunning, he listens, always ready to commune with his Patron. The Great Old One, who has gifted him with powers beyond Thazarr's wildest imaginings. He seeks the darkest of knowledge in the deepest of places.
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The simplest of places...
The simplest of places can oftentimes award the richest of bounties.
W1e crossed the border nearly a week ago, there our Holy Warrior set off South to complete his pilgrimage. I doubt it's the last we'll see of him, but for now we are but four, destined to carry our golden secret ever further East in search of answers.
We made North along the road to Nevapoint, a quiet coastal town atop a high cliff. The surrounding farmlands offered us little respite, but it was here we encountered a curious Gnome. Her dwelling and appearance seemed somewhat Outlandish, she clearly wasn't local. She had nothing to trade, but seemed cordial enough. Much to my companions chagrin her skills were in the musical arts, never had I heard such clever use of sound! It was her mention of a stranger on the road a few days past however, and of a book he carried that peaked our interest, the description she offered could only be that of the book of shadows, the one from my visions. The path had been laid out before me!
Having errands of her own to run, Floxi joined us for the last leg of our journey to Nevapoint.
Here the local folk seemed ordinary. No trouble, danger or strife seemed to be present and the innkeeper of the Laughing Pearl confirmed as much. After a brief conversation we hired the available lodgings and he mentioned the town leader Richard was currently dealing with a half elf in cataloguing the towns history. Dewgaze and I went to meet them, we introduced ourselves and we were genially welcomed, but they offered little of interest, other than that we should probably avoid Lady Zibbs, the towns unofficial Oracle.
Returning to the Pearl to find our companions, Harstork and I learned that the stranger carrying the book was last seen heading to the cliffs a day ago, and we learned the location of Lady Zibbs. Floxi, our Gnomish friend knew of Zibbs, and offered to accompany me to her abode. We did so as the rest of our group went to find clues on this stranger.
Zibbs was fascinating, she allowed us in after Floxi promised not to play any music - maybe they were a band and split due to musical differences?
Zibbs allowed us to sit in her darkened home, and she performed a ritual with her crystals. She spoke of the cosmos and spoke of patience. She said that the book both could, and could not be seen and that it had been used to make a bargain with the sea. Damned Riddles in the dark!
I paid her handsomely for her help, and as we left, Floxi played some stirring sounds on her drum that we danced to fervently, all the way back to the Inn.
The next morning we awoke to the sounds of screaming, and townsfolk rushing towards the cliffs where only yesterday no clues could be discovered, I grabbed my staff and cloak, and we made our way outside into the morning sunlight. The screams were coming from the shore at the foot of the cliffs. We peered down and overheard the crowds panicked words. The bodies of five children lay there on the rocks and sands. Drowned. "Hags! Hags! Hags!" were the words being cried.
A bargain with the sea indeed...
I moved away from the cliff edge and saw Lady Zibbs who just looked at me knowingly. And then all around, people were staring. they were looking at me...
The thread runs long
Despite his distance in recent weeks my master, The Chained One, watches over this humble vassal, threading the path before my very feet. By his guidance I have attained greater heights of power. My abilities continue to grow and I feel stronger with every passing day.
We left the mines behind us, the Kobold vermin within vanquished, their leader - a Sorcerer, commanding a most peculiar winged simulacrum, lies defeated by the blade of our paladin. It seems that even the holy orders power can reach the deeper places of the earth, a rather suitable complement to my own powers, (The Ying to my Yang if you will). Between the wizard and I, we discovered the sorcerer's chamber was home to a golden secret, an egg of some creature, presumably draconic given the kobolds own lineage. What becomes of this treasure remains to be seen.
Upon our return The Mayor of Moddifel gifted us our financial reward, and some powerful dwarven artifacts, I myself was given a most unusual dagger with a blackened blade, the weapon of an assassin... What could this mean...
The road paved with gold
The road to Moddifell, fraught with idle conversation and impetuous company. Would that it wasn't necessary but one mustn't grumble eh? A travelling Bard, passed us on a hillocks rise and told tale of danger ahead, Kobolds within the mines of Moddifell.
We arrived somewhat unexpectedly amidst a tavern full of miners. Blasted Dwarves! Rambunctious and stubborn, as expected. Gave little to us except stale rumour and staler conversation. Fears of some beast that slumbers beneath the earth. The Mayor, over yonder would tell us more I trust and we parlayed briefly with the town guard before being granted an audience.
The Mayor, He seemed a little stouter of character than those we had met thus far, and offered us payed employ should we succeed in clearing their caves of the threat that has ground their economy to a halt. Greed is indeed a catalyst for change. And after agreeing a fee, beast or-no, we would see the task done.
We travelled light, astride a cart track leading to the Moddifell Mines in the foothills of the surrounding land, on arrival it was clearly vandalised, a pitiful sight, but one cant be too underprepared, to wit I managed to scavenge up some blasting powder in case the task ahead needed something a little more heavy duty.
Entering we were immediately set upon by a gang of kobold vermin protecting their Shaman, weak willed creatures, they fell like chaff before the sickle and we bore down deeper into the mine the adrenaline flooding our veins. More kobolds, their warrior elite (yet just as susceptible to our might) blocked the route ahead. We engaged them in combat just the same... but as we did so, the foundations of the earth began to quake....
From the frying pan into the fire...
As anticipated, this ragtag bunch of 'Adventurers' (I am loathe to use that word...) have dragged me down with them. Duped by that blasted watchman, a pox on him! Who knows what vile master he serves, if not himself..
Thrown in the brig after a sorry excuse for a trial hope began to desert me, my companions and I were due to be executed for treasonous crimes and our innocence was hitherto unproven. Fortune had not fled for long however as an unexpected ally appeared, the old Dwarf we rescued from the goblins was in fact under the employ of the town guard and as court chef was to serve us our last meal! It didn't take us long to convince him we'd been framed for the goblin attacks and he deftly liberated us from our incarceration.
I accepted the ruse that Rollen suggested and as a group we snuck out from the gaol and fled from the now alerted guards.
I ran with my companions to the inn from where we were snatched, there the Halfling proprietor Mr Greenhill showed us to a secret tunnel that ran from a hidden room filled with adventuring gear, apparently he was envious of the adventuring lifestyle - the fool wouldn't last a day in the wild. Nonetheless we escaped with our hides intact, the mystery of what transpired left behind us, unanswered for now, but if my suspicions are correct, I will return to root out whatever evil resides within Kilderhide...
A chance meeting
These new individuals, they intrigue me. They are impetuous, and adventurous. Perhaps they will make good companions for the road?
I have faith that the Great Old One will guide me. Perhaps the situation on the roads around Kilderhide will lead to my objective.
I can only hope these newcomers are worth their salt, the threads of fate are indeed tangled...
The door opens
Stumbling across twisted roots and slipping into mulchy divots, I struggled onwards, the ragged forest was old and claustrophobic, warping my sense of direction, the shadows about me becoming darker and more foreboding with every passing hour. I pulled my fraying woolen scarf tighter about myself as the wind picked up and whistled through the grey, gnarled trees, the hem of my long leather coat whipping about my ankles. The hour was late and a glance up through the tree canopy allowed me a sight of the heavy and swollen Grey sky as the patter of rain began. Before long the rain was coming down hard and I willed myself on, desperation lending my limbs fresh vigor as I made for the nearby settlement of Ultwald. Breaking through some thick brush, thorns and leaves tearing fresh holes into my dark clothing, I noticed a trail at the bottom of a small escarpment, following this the trees gradually began to thin, and the ground became firmer underfoot. As my line of sight widened out I felt a moment of relief at the sight of civilization, more the prospect of warm food and a soft bed than the company of others, but even I had to admit, conversation would be welcome, at least for a while. Brushing the worst of the detritus and dirt from my person and re-shouldering my small pack I approached the outlying gates of Ultwald. A creeping feeling began to creep up my spine the closer I got to the towns edge, something did not seem right. It was too quiet.
Crossing the threshold into the town proper my fears were realized. Instead of the thriving foresters hub I had expected to see, all I found was a broken ruin. Buildings tumbled in on themselves, stone and woodwork scattered as though torn down by the hands of a giant, scorched and blackened remains of homes and wagons lay among piles of ashes and dirt. I gripped my battered staff tightly as I picked my way through the grim desolation, suddenly wary of danger that may lurk around corners and in the deep shadows. I began to carefully explore, picking my way slowly through what remained of Ultwald.
Without warning a high pitched squeal tore its way into my mind, setting my nerves afire, I reeled back and fell to the ground as the noise rose in volume, my staff clattered to the floor as I pitched forwards, clutching my head with the palms of my hands and crying out in pain. My vision blurred as ,y body was wracked with involuntary convulsions and then, as quickly as it started, the noise ceased. My breathing came in ragged gasps and I ached from the convulsing of my muscles. I opened my eyes. I looked down to see my hands, covered in ash. A trio of human skulls stared up blankly from among the broken ruin about me, I knocked them away in disgust, feeling judgment from their silent gaze. I stood up, groggily, and beyond my periphery I heard the faintest of whispers, as though carried in on the silent breeze. I whipped around, bringing my staff up to bear, but all before me was ash and rubble, silent as the grave, while the trees beyond swayed in the ominous breeze.
I made my way onto the main thoroughfare of Ultwald, as I looked down the street, into the centre of town I saw the road carried on for about 500 yards, up to the foot of a grand church, its façade wide and imposing, a mighty edifice in its day, only now, it was a humbled and broken shell, its architecture sullied by whatever calamity had befallen this town. I approached slowly, and with caution, my senses stretched to their limit, the creeping whispers never far away. I looked for any who may still draw breath, stealing glances into tumbled homes and collapsed shop fronts, finding nothing but emptiness and death. Feeling at once very alone and as if the eyes of thousands were upon me I stood before the crumbling church, it's entrance smashed and the spire above hanging limp and close to complete collapse. I climbed the white stone steps and passed through the cracked archway before disappearing into the black shadows within.
Nothing moved. Only the sound of the wind and the light rain outside, I wiped the water from my pale face and cast back my hood, brushing my damp black hair away from my eyes. As the wind gusted into the once grand chamber the faint whispers became louder for a brief moment and my hackles were raised. I yelled out a panicked shout, “Show yourself! Come out from the shadows!” my voice echoed briefly in the ruins of the vaulted chamber and after a few seconds of pregnant silence The whispering began again only now as though it were all about me, I swung around behind himself with my staff, the smooth wood gripped in my dirty hands, it passed cleanly through thin air and my momentum carried me forwards in a fall, tripping over a shattered pew. I landed hard and there I lay, my body sore and aching from my long, arduous journey. my vision began to waver and I felt feint and dizzy as if a vertigo were taking hold. As the fogginess of my vision began to obfuscate my surroundings the whispers returned, stronger than before and louder than I liked. I began to crawl, assailed by whatever malevolence held sway over this accursed town. Pulling himself onwards I tried to escape the darkening, deepening whispers that wracked my mind in a language so guttural, so ancient I had no comprehension of its meaning. I cried out for release as I tried to clear my mind. In a panic my vision began to swim before eventually, naught but blackness was all I could see.
Cast into this pitch and knowing I was completely helpless I crawled, feeling for a way out, for an escape. I fumbled my way through the smashed rubble and splintered wood, my hands and arms bloodied and torn. I felt the floor beneath me begin to suddenly slope downwards and I began to slide, my weight and lack of purchase carrying me. I could feel the heavy flagstones underneath me cracked and broken before suddenly an emptiness opened beneath me, I scrabbled in vain for purchase and I cried out, my gut lurching with weightlessness as I felt nothing but an abyss around me, I was in free-fall. A sudden burst of pain smashed into me as I landed hard among a pile of stone and rubble. With the wind knocked out of me I felt as though I had been pummelled by an ogre. I reached down to the sharp pain in my leg and feeling through my padded breeches I realised my leg was badly fractured, I slumped back in agony. Exhausted, buried in darkness and suffering from heavy injury, I was far from prepared for what happened next.
A purple glow, soft and gentle became apparent from somewhere in front of where I lay. Wisps of violet mist began to surround me, seeping out from the shadows. The light was faint, but pulsated and throbbed as though alive or breathing, the chamber I had fallen into appeared to me in shades of grey and mauve as the mist slowly coalesced into the form of dozens of long writhing tentacles. They caressed my body and as I looked on in puzzlement they beckoned me to move. The whispering becoming deeper and clearer, forming from many disparate sounds into one single voice. “Thazarr....”
“What do you want!” I said surrendering to my pain. The voice continued on in a formless unknowable tongue. I yelled in frustration “I don't understand!”
I could barely make out my surroundings. Bathed in the sickly purple hue emanating from the gently writhing tentacles of mist, I could make out that I had fallen through a smashed and demolished portion of the floor above, into this subterranean catacomb. The walls to either side of me seemed to be covered in small tubular holes of stone and glass that seemed to contain parchment or linen scrolls, they were mouldered and dusty. The closer I looked the more I could see, seemingly coming out of my blindness. Stone shelves and surfaces had upon them skeletal fragments of creatures, small gemstones and books. I worked himself free of the pile of rubble I lay on and scrambled forwards, crawling towards my nascent discovery. I pulled himself painfully up to my feet, ignoring the mists that clung to my arms and body. I rounded a corner and before me was a lectern of dark stone, the surface of it resembled a great maw, toothed and jagged and upon it lay an ancient, but well preserved leather-bound book.
As I gazed upon its cracked leather and brass bound corners the whispering voice became punctuated with a sick gurgling laughter that echoed and stretched as though born from another place far, far away. I inched closer, my hand reached out through the gathering purple mists, I felt small needle-like pains scratch and prick at my exposed flesh as I reached out and moved closer to the stone dais. Jagged teeth, claws and talons formed from thin air and slowly raked across my body before dissipating like smoke and I felt incorporeal tendrils worm into my ears and nose. My fingers wrapped around the tome atop the lectern and as I lifted it off and held the grimoire with both hands, the whispering, the mist and the sickly mauve instantly light vanished. I was alone, a weightless island of one in an ocean of utter blackness and silence. The book was heavy, very heavy and as the void threatened to overwhelm me I lifted the book, and without another thought, opened it.
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The void watched and raged. Stars died, galaxies splintered and reformed, the cosmos turned and wheeled in the fathomless depths of the time consuming abyss. Entities older than the forming of the world looked on and weaved their intricate web of schemes and plans thread by thread. All the while, the tumultuous expanse of the universe flared in a chaos so vast that a singular consciousness could not begin to comprehend its enormity, let alone the myriad skeins of fate, time and destiny that intertwined it all in a grand, impossible symmetry.
Yet, there are those who are chosen. Those, who at first glance seem so small and insignificant, but are bent to be pivotal to the twists and turns of the great design, vital to the fates of the Multiverse. Souls that are steered and guided by those who see beyond the material, by those who are enlightened.
Thazarr opened his eyes. Four years had passed since he had been shown his potential, since he had been shown the thread of his own destiny and been allowed to grasp it in his own hands. He would not suffer fools gladly - not any longer. By himself, but not alone, Thazarr De’jassan listens to that which chooses to commune with him. A search for knowledge, a lust that is unbridled and pure drives him ever onwards. To begin to understand the realities beyond our own is but the first step on the road to true enlightenment. No faith, no God, no pantheon has ever held such a power as Thazarr has witnessed, and he will stop at nothing to unearth the secrets of the void beyond the material and the elemental. And so he wanders, and listens. Heeding the voice and the guidance bestowed upon him by the Great Old One. Despite his misgivings and discomfort at times his, patron, has gifted him not only his true name, but powers beyond the scope of imagining. Powers heightened by his own potential. Powers, that sweep aside those who oppose him, and powers that allow him, at times, to see beyond, into the tempest, to follow his thread into the unknown.
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