01/06/746 A.E.
Two days at sea wasn't much time compared to their more recent voyages aboard larger vessels, but travel on board a coaster left a lot to be desired where comfort was concerned, making the journey seem almost longer. Cramped, wet, and rolling back or forth with every other wave, the unpleasantness was far more noticeable than when they had been on their own galleon, and a few of them honestly felt queasy, though no one actually hurled. Thankfully, the coaster, the Germanhop, soon arrived at Peric where they quickly disembarked and soon found themselves in a closely guarded section of the city, the only part that even allowed non-elves access.
The Gray Elves were not known for their hospitality and trust of humans, after all, and most humans, even if they could claim to have laid eyes on an elf at some point in their lives, almost certainly wouldn't have meant a gray elf, but a high elf. Here, even half elves were not welcome in this city beyond a certain point. Yet, the gray elves still did some business with outsiders, as most every race must, and when they did, it was usually through the limited access Port of Peric.
The rocky shore wasn't much to look at, though a curious variety of stones on the beaches might make one with geological skills wonder a bit, and those few with artistic talents might conclude some of these stones were of such quality they could be shaped and carved into a few rather nice items, given the time and the desire to do so. Yet none of this was of particular importance to the party members; they merely waited for captain Nerm to unload the cargo before attempting to hire him to take them 6 miles farther north to the island remnant of Esterark. If he wouldn't agree, they would have to seek other passage, but why not start with him?
"We need a boat ta take us aboot six mile off shore. Kin ye do et?" asked Gill, finally getting some time alone with captain Nerm. "I kin, yes, but why?" Gillmesh liked to keep things on a need to know basis, but apparently the captain wasn't going anywhere without convincing. He'd be risking his boat and crew, after all, so that made sense he'd have to know. "Et's a small island there. We'll need ta look at somethin'." The captain thought about it. "Well, how long do ye thin it be taken ye to find what you seek?" It was truly a marvel these two could communicate so well. Eventually they agreed upon a time, a price, and what was expected of each other. Gillmesh forked over 16 gold pieces (half now, half later) to accommodate the captain and the crew of the Germanhop, who would, by all expectations, be sitting on their collective asses doing nothing but waiting for the party of adventurers to conclude their mysterious business at their mysterious destination. A paid vacation, then? Hardly. No doubt, as most captains would, they'd take every opportunity to work the crew and make minor repairs or clean the ship, keeping it in tiptop condition, extending the vessel's life, and perhaps their own, if it came to that.
A Shrine to Poseidon graced the dock area and some small prayers and offerings were made. Mostly, the party hung out at the Gray Wind, a local tavern that, though there were drinks, mostly dealt in various tobaccos and other materials one might smoke. Gill procured rooms upstairs and some expensive pipe tobacco. The selection was indeed impressive and apparently many varieties from across the shipping world of trade and commerce eventually ended up here and for sale. It was one of the few places you could find almost anything you wished to smoke. Turns out smoking was one of the few human habits the gray elves took to with abandon. Though they would smoke almost anything, even if a human wouldn't touch the stuff, they usually smoked the very best, when they could get it. If not, of course, anything would do in a pinch, for a pinch.
Jarmain and Aarkon spent a great deal of time looking to buy a chess set, but they couldn't find one in Peric. They decided the next time they could, they would purchase a board and the monk would use some of his Athenian influence to teach the Cleric of Zeus the game of chess. Though not common knowledge, really, knowing how to play chess was actually a requirement in the church of Athena. No one was required to be a master, of course, but if you didn't know the rules, or worse, couldn't teach them to another, that was tantamount to a sin or insult to the goddess of knowledge and wisdom and battle and tactics. Playing the game was simply considered good training for thinking ahead, which was always wise, and combat.
01/07/746 A.E.
They departed in the morning, nothing unusual having occurred that night, and soon arrive without incident upon the shores of Esterark. The crew hauls the coaster up onto shore, makes camp, and under the captain's orders, more or less stays put on the shore around the Germanhop, enjoying the fine spring day for a time. Alcohol is permitted, and many begin to drink. Not long after that, however, the first mate begins to assign light duties to the crew.
The adventurers, however, go ashore, and soon they find the actual island remnant is less than 100 yards at its widest. Hardly anything would clue one as to why the place was ever called Bright Mountain (You may recall, Esterark is ancient elven for Bright Mountain).
They quickly do notice the ruins, or the foundation stones here and there of some buildings, long ago swept away by time and sea. In fact, the little island could easily be entirely swept over by a large enough wave, tidal as it may be, and it does occasionally happen, though no danger of this occurring any time soon was apparent.
Jarmain and Aarkon, however, both report an odd feeling. They describe it as easy going, happy, contentment that seems to permeate their souls while here. No one else seems so affected. A small, blue, parakeet flies over and lands on Jarmain's shoulder. Perched there, it begins to sing and the melody draws the cleric of Zeus in the northeasterly direction. Cyris cast Detect Magic to see if anything might be revealed. It is, and he notices, as if the air around him were the still surface of a pool, wave after wave issuing from Ekibar, Gill's sword, and bouncing off surfaces while being reflected in circular (spherical actually) patterns around Jarmain, around the bird, and around Aarkon, as well as the curious bag of "ice" crystals he carries, all of which look like splashes and ripples made when someone tosses a rock into a pond, but in three dimensions instead of two. No one else seemed to affect or be affected by these Mana Waves, which was a curious thing, but what it might mean, who could say? He reports his findings to the group. Cyris says he believes Ekibar is creating a spell-like effect and it is tuned to interact with the bird and the monk and the cleric and even his magic bag, but why they may be so affected and not others or anything else is not his to know.
They begin to walk toward the northeast. Aarkon's spell of Speak With Animals does not provided a stronger contact than Jarmain already has with the bird, nor does it reveal additional information of any kind as it simply seemed content to lead them in one direction.
Wondering about his magic bag, an object he still couldn't figure out, Cyris again decided to risk pulling a crystal out. Again, it stuck to his hand, much to the chagrin of all present, but eventually he learned he could get rid of the crystals and free his hand if he would but will them toward the ground or even try to bury them. He did this here, and the crystal buried itself and the ground started rumbling.
"Rrrrrrrruuuuuuuuumbbbliiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!" An explosion erupted with rock fragments flying out in all directions. Luckily, the flying debris injured no one. Investigating, they discover a small crater containing a tiny statuette, about 4 inches high and weighing 3 pounds. It was an item of remarkable workmanship, well crafted, small, a blue figure, mostly, of a bearded human male with white hair. He had the look of wisdom about him, and they also discovered, though barely visible, the word "Timmy" upon the bottom of the figurine. Astronomical symbols, though too hard to discern, seem to adorn the figure's blue robes.
Well, though a mystery, they "shelf it" for the moment and continue on 50 yards inland and over a small hill where the bird finally lands upon an ordinary looking rock. At least, ordinary looking to most of them, for Isabelle sees it is, in fact, a secret door, though quite clearly made to look like a natural outcropping of rock. Checking it, she finds no traps and opens it. A loud "CLICK" is heard, whereupon she realizes she has just armed a trap she had apparently missed. She realizes she can go nowhere without discharging it, now, unless she can still somehow disarm it, and though the others could yet move back before she made the attempt, in her excitement and worry, she simply reached in and tried, as best she could, to immediately disarm it. She failed.
The men of the Germanhop had been warned to ignore anything unusual, as long as it didn't threaten them personally, and they now followed their orders well, so even when a plume of billowing fire rose from over the hill, they refused to go investigate. No one could claim they were stupid.
The party, quite frazzled around the edges, with some of them unconscious and nearly dead, smoldered amid the boulders. Fortunately, Cyris had been thinking about looking at other rocks in the distance, and hearing the click, he instinctively ran in the opposite direction. The low roar came to him and he could feel the heat on the back of his neck; then turning and seeing the explosion's mushroom rise skyward, he hurried back over and resuscitated his fallen comrades. Aarkon, Jarmain, Lycorne, and even Isabelle were all down. Only Gillmesh remained conscious, though his smoky garments testified to his burning experiences. Together, they leapt into action and saved the lives of their comrades. Gill dumped a vial of Healing Potion down Jarmain's throat and the magical liquid did its job, and so brought the cleric to consciousness. Soon, the usual intricacies of the healing processes with magic potions and/or magic spells and healing skills was in full bloom, with training, knowledge, and the power of the gods helping them to cheat death yet again.
Nearly fully healed, though now devoid of spells, they rest for the night. Some of them lament the loss of clothing or a few items of note, having been destroyed in the fiery blast. Bell goes alone into the now open secret door against the advice of the others. Most of them enter their magic tent and get some sleep. Cyris follows Bell down the stone stairs until they are well below sea level. He begs her to be wise and return, but she says she'll be fine. Sighing, he returns to the tent and also tries to get some sleep.
Alas, soon after this, Bell unfortunately encounters a pit trap where the floor gave way and she fell 30 feet onto some spikes. Turning and twisting, she managed to avoid the deadly things and missed being impaled and killed, but only at the cost of her consciousness, hitting her head rather hard. She lay there all night, and but for the luck of the gods, she would have died.
01/08/746 A.E.
In the morning, to make a long story short, they went in search of Bell, all of them quite surprised not to find her lounging around outside or something, and only now realizing she never returned last night. They make their way down, first 50 feet of stone steps, then slanting natural rock formations, and then an open iron door. Curious, it was free of corrosion and rust and the salt air and moisture should have played havoc with it. Just beyond they saw an open pit where they discovered Bell. With some considerable effort, Aarkon managed to get down to her (almost killing himself) and discovered she was still alive. Healing her with a Cure Light Wounds, he brings her around. "Uh huh," coughing a bit, "Am I dead?" she asked. The monk looked disapprovingly at her. "You better not be. We've all got words for you, woman." And they do have strong words for her, but whether Bell takes them to heart or not, only time will tell.
Again, they ply their healing arts, but eventually move on. Yet, not much farther can they proceed, for a new, wooden door bared their way, and this time it was covered with magical glyphs and seals of wax and archaic writings of all kinds. The power it represented staggered them, but when they learned, or discerned, the symbols were wardings placed there, perhaps by representatives of the elven god Corellon Larethian, they decided maybe consultation with the clerics of that god might first be in order. After all, one such trap had almost killed them all, and here, the wards represented many such traps. It frightened them a bit. Discussing it, they decided they had little choice but to return to Alderami. Quietly, they left Esterark behind. Three days later, the Germanhop again found itself docked at the port of The One Tree, as it was often called, perhaps the busiest tree city port on the island of Alderami.
01/11/746 A.E.
The Germanhop coaster pulled up to the port of The One Tree. Most humans found that name a little silly since there were clearly hundreds of trees in the immediate area, but they were often told this one, where they actually disembarked, was in some way special to the elves, though no one seemed to be able to tell them why. It was, nevertheless, perhaps the largest and busiest port tree. It was a mimbar tree, like most of the major trees upon which the city elves dwelled. Atop the lofty branches, secure in their treehouses, and with dozens of levels each with boardwalks stretching as far as any could see, each level boasted many vistas. And where the span between limbs was too great to support actual boards, there were great rope bridges connecting the trees. One thing was for certain about this place; it was a virtual maze, and if not for the numerous signs clearly marking the way, one could easily get lost. Just ask the illiterate; they'll tell you.
Still, finding their way was not a problem, for they could always ask, and if they got lost, ask again. No one seemed to mind helping them out, and unlike human cultures where a stranger might look at you like you were a fool to be lost, perhaps making you hesitant about asking, the elves seemed to take it as a way to say hello to strangers. There are those who even go so far as to suggest if you are not lost, asking where you are is a polite way to introduce yourself and say "hello." So our intrepid warriors and adventures were busy saying "hello" to various elves and half elves, feeling their way through the city's shops and making deals with its merchants, all while hoping to eventually run into a representative of the greater god, Corellon.
Corellon Larethian was the Elven God of Magic, Song, Arts and Crafts, and in general, most of the high ideals the elven folk strived to maintain. It had been his markings, or those left by one of his clerics, that had thwarted their progress. The wooden door was well sealed by magic; not so much to prevent one from even opening it, as a common lock might, but merely, in all likelihood, killing you if you dared try. Hopefully, a cleric of Corellon could tell them more, if they could find one.
Some of their former threads were earlier burned to rags due to a quick misstep by Isabelle, which had resulted in the party being engulfed in a Fireball, the unfortunate incident which now necessitated the purchase of new clothing. It was then, luckily, that they happened to run into such a cleric while clothes shopping. God, or the gods, depending on whom you ask, is sometimes kind. It's times like this when one might step back and marvel at the nature of the universe, or perhaps simply laugh at coincidences, but more often than not the moment slips by as opaquely unimportant. Nevertheless, one Lythaura Moonbow, hereafter normally referred to as simply Lytha, was shopping for silk slippers in the very same shop. She had just settled on a fine pair of blue silk slippers, reportedly from Mulberry by way of Coniperus, when Jarmain, who had been watching her for a few minutes, decided to confirm his suspicions about her holy symbol, a circlet of a silver quarter moon. Luck was with him as she was indeed a Cleric of Corellon. After introductions, they struck up a more pertinent conversation.
"Have you ever heard of an island called Esterark?" inquired Jarmain. Lythaura concentrated for a moment or two, and said, "No, I have not." The Cleric of Zeus continued. "That is hardly surprising. The island is little more than a small patch of rocky ground in the ocean. However, my companions and I have great need to explore the island, for there are ruins there of, what we believe to be, a great elven city. But, the passage underground leads to a door guarded by the powers of Corellon. We have returned to Alderami to seek a Cleric of Corellon to aid us in passing into whatever lies past the warded door."
The monk was listening, and now decided he didn't want to mislead anyone into thinking this would be safe, so he offered, "As you can see by our clothes, we do not wish to trip up anymore traps or wards." The effects of the Fireball could still easily be seen by virtue of the poor condition of their garments.
The elven priestess considered this carefully. "Ah, well if the ruins are those of Corellon, it could very well indicate an elven city." Jarmain ran a hand through his dark brown hair, still keeping his brown orbs on the elven priestess, and then he said, "We are investigating a very powerful sword. By its own accord, we are lead to Esterark, whose name means Bright Mountain in your ancient tongue. Will you accompany us?"
Lythaura smiled just then since the thought of adventure intrigued her a bit. "Well, whether I can accompany you or not is up to my temple elders. But I would think such a find would be important to my church, as well. If you'd like, we could go ask them right now." They agreed, and she invited them up to The Bowl.
THE BOWL OF CORELLON LARETHIAN:
On a mighty mimbar tree, so well known it is often called "The One Tree," though there are many mimbar trees there, where all are interlinked in some way for miles and miles, one of the world's busiest ports can be found. From the water's level, one may travel up the stairs spiraling around the large mimbar tree's trunk until they reach the first level, a mere 70 feet above. A business district, a port, the level is rather dirty and thickly populated with humans and half elves, all doing business with sailors and anyone else who may travel in from the sea. Many like the place, for it's filled with action and excitement, rumors, news, bars and taverns, and all manner of the unusual.
The next 9 levels get cleaner and more elven as you go up. There is little reason for the masses to travel so high on The One Tree. Mostly, it's only the well to do, affluent people and travelers, adventurers, and a more priestly or scholarly sort that filter up into the residential districts above. And still, this is not the top.
Continuing upwards, the main spiral staircase wrapping around the trunk of the one tree gives way to a series of wide, straight, stone stairways (stone? in a tree?). It's as if the rock were a living part of the tree, though no one that most people can ask could really tell them about it, only saying it had been there for 'many' generations (and for elves, that's saying a long, long time).
Moving from branch to branch, each only 5 or 6 steps in length before they make a turn, these short, stone 'bridges' take one up in actual height only a foot or two, moving you back and forth, as if just to get all the various views and vistas afforded from multiple angles. On each walkway you can see part of the Bowl of Corellon, but its full majesty doesn't hit you until you swing around on the ninth staircase where at first you can't see it at all, and then turning 45 degrees onto the tenth and final staircase, the final 6 steps lead you onto a landing that opens up into a huge, natural grotto of rock, crystal, plants, water, and trees. If you didn't know you were nearly 200 feet in the air and on the very top of a mimbar tree, you couldn't tell from here.
Perhaps 125 feet in radius, a circular, bowl-shaped depression rest comfortably in the canopy, the walls a solid mass of leaves and branches, the floor now layer upon layer of fallen branches, leaves, dust, and debris such that one would take it as normal forest floor in any given forest. Boulders, obviously placed here, ring the bowl, each one having been selected as unusual in crystalline structure or appearance, and each boulder also carved and sculpted with images of heroes, heroines, and gods. All of those figures seemed to somehow grow out of the seemingly natural crystalline formations of the boulders. Much of the grotto looked as if one were in an underground cave, except for the sunlight and plants there, which easily took up 75% of the room, often partially covering the rocks. And the plants (even smaller trees other than mimbar) grew there as well. Trees growing on trees? It was incredible. Central within the bowl, there was a great oak tree, which was probably the most prominent of all the plants. And nearby there, a central pool of water collected from all the rain born rivulets that flowed down the leaves at the sides of the bowl. Despite having not rained in days, the place seemed like a rain shower had only recently abated. Suffice it to say, the overall awe and majesty of the bowl was breathtaking, and any who saw it would never forget the temple of Corellon.
The Bowl of Corellon could easily accommodate 2,000, but if you really wanted, one could jam nearly 6,000 people into it and still be able to breathe. At best, however, only 4,000 or so would come at its maximum height of attendance, the High Holy Day. Normally less than a 1,000 would visit the bowl in any given pholar, and practically all of them were elves of half elves. Still, that's an awful lot of visitors.
And so they consult with the High Priestess, Myliarra, Lytha's immediate superior. She recommends they look into their records for any clues, thinking perhaps such a cleric who took such precautions may have made a note about it. As captain Nerm of the Germanhop is busy for two days, this works out well. They tell Myliarra all they can about Ekibar and its poetry that has been leading them a merry chase. "Not very esthetically pleasing, is it? Certainly not elven poetry," the high priestess comments. They figure it to be dwarven, for it's crude like that, and unnecessarily cryptic. So, after getting all relevant facts, Lytha and Myliarra delve deep into the records and do discover the following information after two days.
01/13/746 A.E.
Jamil, a cleric of Corellon, had discovered the entrance to a place on Esterark, though it says not where that is. The record says he fought a shadowy demonic force of incredible power, and after losing several traveling companions, the rest managed to escape while Jamil held the creature at bay with the power of his faith. The record also indicated he sealed the door so it would remain below. Aside from claiming Jamil was a high priest (at least 9th level), the record said very little else. This happened about 67 years ago, according to the dates written in the records.
Armed with this knowledge, they make preparations to leave. Jarmain and Aarkon buy a nice chess set, a portable one, about 10 inches by 5 inches with thin, stone tiles, each one 1 square inch in size. The set folds in half and into a box, the pieces being kept inside). It looks quite nice when its 10" x 10" surface, with an 8 x 8 or 64 square grid with an alternating pattern of light and dark tiles is open and the chess pieces are set up on it in standard opening formation. The crystals pieces and board look so nice, in fact, one might even display it in their home, perhaps using it to offer challenge for any visitor to their home who might ask about it. But for now, it is stored safely away in a travel pack.
Isabelle, in the meantime, has been looking around for things of interest. Finally, she detects an elf carrying magic. Such people, she figures, have something worth stealing, and can well afford its loss as well. Unfortunately, while trying to pick his front pant's pocket, he unexpectedly turned. Alas, he got the wrong idea, however, as her hand found its way to, well, his package, shall we say, and he took her to be a rather forward young woman. This didn't bother him, however, and in fact, he quite liked it. Bell played up the part as woman who was incredibly turned on by such a handsome guy that she just couldn't help herself, and one thing led to another, and soon, they were going at each other in some nearby convenient shadows. She did enjoy the encounter, but she also didn't fail to take the magic in his pocket before she left him smiling. Perhaps later, when he discovered the item missing, he would grow to hate her, but right now, he loved her (well, you know, not loved her so much as love what happened). Anyway, she procured a magic powder, and this turned out to be a Potion of Flying if mixed with water.
Now, everything ready, they pay captain Nerm once again and depart for Peric. However, Lycorne opts not to return, for that Fireball trap almost killed her, and she really wanted to live just now. The rest board the Germanhop and set out. On the way they see what appears to be a floating, but overturned lifeboat. With no visible signs of life, they decide not to investigate. Aside from that, the 3-day trip back to Esterark was rather uneventful.
01/16/746 A.E.
Things go smoothly after they beach the coaster on the rocky shores of Esterark. They make camp in their tent, showing it off to their new party member. She's quite impressed at the magic and feels good her companions are men and women of some means, perhaps indicating that since they have skills and talents to have made it this far, they may have enough to survive and overcome any new challenge, with herself included. In the morning, they venture below.
01/17/746 A.E.
Passing the open pit that Bell had previously fallen into was rather easy, and soon they come upon the magically warded wooden door. Lytha examines it and discovers it is replete with Corellon Script, the secret language of her temple. It is a warning, speaking of an evil below, and it advises caution, if not retreat. There is also a "button," so to speak, but not a mechanical push button, but a triggering kind that says, in the secret script, "press here." Lytha does so, its waxy seal crumbling at her touch, and a Magic Mouth appears and speaks.
"Hear the words of Jamil of Corellon, friend priest, and be warned. Behind this portal lay a Demon of Shadow, and I failed to overcome its power. I felt myself lucky to escape with a few remaining friends, for the others were left behind, their dead bodies beyond our ability to retrieve them. Beware."
The ominous warning delivered, they consider their options and decide they must press on and continue their quest. Using her knowledge, Lytha is able to bypass the wards and glyphs. She knows if she opens and shuts this door, the magic will remain intact. Thinking it good to have such a door handy should escape become necessary, they proceed, but she cautions them. "No one else may open this door but I, and if I should fall while inside, keep in mind that what is before you may be no worse than this door, should you be forced to flee." They listen to her words and remember them, for the consequences are indeed important, given that whatever deadly and fiendish foe might await them below, the wards and traps on this door could kill them just as easily. Dead is dead, they know, so if Lytha should fall and they can't save her, they might as well fight any foe to the bitter end rather than running away and trying to bypass that door on their own. They think to leave it open, but Lytha insists they do not, for the evil below might then get past them and escape. Better to leave it closed, and if they need to retreat in the face of overwhelming strength, they'll need to quickly go through and shut the door, needing the door's power to keep the beast at bay. If that becomes necessary, hopefully they can escape and closed the door behind them first, of course, but if they fail and fall, at least their actions won't inflict a great evil upon the world. Not everyone there probably cares about that last part, but since the cleric of Corellon holds all the cards there, that's the way it will be played, like it or not.
SESSION ENDS:
© August of 2000
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096