Adventure Log
Ernest Padraig wanted to leave immediately. When he heard the story of our meeting with Sir Keegan, he was visibly upset but ready to confront his ancestor. We led him back to the keep, past the pit of rotted corpses, down the stairs, beyond the tombs of countless skeletons, and to the crypt where Sir Keegan waited. "Oh, how my line has fallen!" the paladin lamented when he saw his nervous heir weakly brandishing the family sword.
The meeting was short. Sir Keegan gifted us the sword and gave us these instructions: end the ritual, break the mirror, find Kallarel and kill him. (Yes, it was Kallarel who had opened the rift of Orcus and threatened to bring destruction and endless horror upon the region.) Seeing the Baron's discomfort, the Morgan asked if it was possible to capture Kallarel rather than kill him. "Perhaps, but he is a great danger now that he knows how to open the rift." The Baron offered us an extra 50 silver if we could spare his son's life, but we made it clear that closing the rift was our greatest concern. Should Kallarel put himself in our way, we could make no promises.
After a small debate, we escorted the Baron back to Winterhaven, not convinced that he could return safely on his own. After a night's rest, we visited Valthrun the Prescient where we discussed how to break the mirror. A simple hammer would not do. It must be broken against the rift itself, at exactly the right time after the ritual has been stopped and the rift closed. For now, we left the mirror with Valthrun.
Returning to the keep yet again, this time we met a group of slavers on the road. A group of Hobgoblins calling themselves "Blood Reavers" were leading a group of human slaves to be used in a sacrificial ritual. Their leader was a lieutenant who managed to evade dozens of our attacks. Morthos took out the archer, Kanaan and Sylvar picked off the minions, while I fell a step behind, getting in my heals a moment too late for the Morgan. She had garnered the attention of the lieutenant, and the rest focused their blows against the young hero. Luckily, we succeeded just as we drained most of our resources. The prisoners were freed. I believe that this is not the last we will see of the Blood Reavers--even if we have to seek them out ourselves to end the barbaric slave trade.
Back at the keep, we followed Sir Keegan's directions and headed down to the source of the rift. Morthos scouted ahead and heard an interesting story about a spider that jumped on a victim's face. We soon met the acquaintance of Frank, that very spider. Fighting precariously between a staircase and an open well, we dodged the attacks of the death jump spider and several tough hobgoblins.
Committed to ending the ritual, we pushed on. After setting off a portcullis, we came to a room full of maps and battle plans and were ambushed by what I hope to be the last group of hobgoblins. Sylvar jumped onto the table in order to take better aim at our opponents, and together, we took them down.
Now, as I rest upon this table of maps, I am jotting these notes so as not to forget the trials we faced in order to make peace in this world. The others have finished bandaging their wounds and searching the bodies. Now we go to face Kallarel. May Pelor light our way.
"A single candle is stronger than a room of darkness." -Illumination #2
Sunday, August 3, 2008
How the Morgan Came to Be
Ami was a foundling, left at Childwall by anonymous travelers, taken in, and raised at the school. As she grew up, she was in many ways a typical child, mostly interested in playing, exploring, and making friends. At some point she realized that she had no parents, and that this was somehow not normal. She began to wonder to herself if there was something wrong with her, if perhaps she was somehow broken, or damaged, or not as good as ordinary children, and this is why her parents chose to abandon her. Although the teachers at Childwall could see that Ami had become quiet and far more withdrawn than usual, she did not speak her concerns and the overburdened instructors generally left her to her own devices.
At about the age of 12 Ami was walking alone through the halls of the school when she overheard a conversation between a couple of priests. She was eavesdropping from around a corner, and could not hear everything very well, but she thought they were talking about some person called "The Morgan" and she deduced -- as only a 12 year old could -- that this person they were talking about was a great hero. In fact, the priests were talking about something entirely different; no one is quite sure what, but it had nothing to do with anything so heroic. Maybe they were talking about a new church organ, or that someone in the villiage had been born again. No one will ever know.
Ami went back to her room filled with curiosity about this mysterious hero called "the Morgan." She wondered what the Morgan would look like, and be like. What kind of adventures had she had? What kind of people had she met, and what lands had she traveled? She went to the library, but curiously could not find anything about the Morgan in any of the books on the lower shelves (the only ones she could reach). She asked the priests to tell her stories of the Morgan, but they all denied that such a person existed. Ami began to sense a cover-up. For some reason, no one was allowed to talk about the Morgan!
It was soon after that Ami had a vision. It was, more properly, a dream, but one so vivid that she would remember every detail for years to come. In her dream, Ami was visited by a giant black raven, who explained everything to her. The reason why no one talked about the Morgan, the raven explained, was because the Morgan had yet to appear. "The Morgan" was a title reserved for a great servant of the Raven Queen, who would travel the world bringing down the mighty and the proud, serving the humblest of all people, and destroying the evil that is the undead. And no one knew who the Morgan would be, or what shape she would take. And this was up to Ami to decide.
When Ami woke up, she announced to everyone that she, in fact, was the Morgan. No one knew what she was talking about; she didn't seem to care.
Months became years, and the Morgan grew up tall, with a skinny, wiry, strength. She learned the use of a sword, and had a special helmet made for her by the village smith -- one that boasted the raven wings of her patron. But she also maintained her studies in the obscure arts of the arcane. She learned the ways of the gods, and also of magic. She learned how to taste magic in the air, and how to perform mystic rituals. Daily she gave thanks to the Raven Queen, who had given her a path in her life, who had shown her that she was not a cast-off, not an unwanted orphan, that she did indeed -- and perhaps always had -- had a destiny.
The destiny of the Morgan.
At about the age of 12 Ami was walking alone through the halls of the school when she overheard a conversation between a couple of priests. She was eavesdropping from around a corner, and could not hear everything very well, but she thought they were talking about some person called "The Morgan" and she deduced -- as only a 12 year old could -- that this person they were talking about was a great hero. In fact, the priests were talking about something entirely different; no one is quite sure what, but it had nothing to do with anything so heroic. Maybe they were talking about a new church organ, or that someone in the villiage had been born again. No one will ever know.
Ami went back to her room filled with curiosity about this mysterious hero called "the Morgan." She wondered what the Morgan would look like, and be like. What kind of adventures had she had? What kind of people had she met, and what lands had she traveled? She went to the library, but curiously could not find anything about the Morgan in any of the books on the lower shelves (the only ones she could reach). She asked the priests to tell her stories of the Morgan, but they all denied that such a person existed. Ami began to sense a cover-up. For some reason, no one was allowed to talk about the Morgan!
It was soon after that Ami had a vision. It was, more properly, a dream, but one so vivid that she would remember every detail for years to come. In her dream, Ami was visited by a giant black raven, who explained everything to her. The reason why no one talked about the Morgan, the raven explained, was because the Morgan had yet to appear. "The Morgan" was a title reserved for a great servant of the Raven Queen, who would travel the world bringing down the mighty and the proud, serving the humblest of all people, and destroying the evil that is the undead. And no one knew who the Morgan would be, or what shape she would take. And this was up to Ami to decide.
When Ami woke up, she announced to everyone that she, in fact, was the Morgan. No one knew what she was talking about; she didn't seem to care.
Months became years, and the Morgan grew up tall, with a skinny, wiry, strength. She learned the use of a sword, and had a special helmet made for her by the village smith -- one that boasted the raven wings of her patron. But she also maintained her studies in the obscure arts of the arcane. She learned the ways of the gods, and also of magic. She learned how to taste magic in the air, and how to perform mystic rituals. Daily she gave thanks to the Raven Queen, who had given her a path in her life, who had shown her that she was not a cast-off, not an unwanted orphan, that she did indeed -- and perhaps always had -- had a destiny.
The destiny of the Morgan.
Friday, August 1, 2008
The Quick and the Undead
Adventure LogWe were quick, and they were undead.
It was an easy choice to confront the undead of this keep rather than to attack "the bugs." The darkness was pervasive and unnatural, but Sylvar cast a spell on Kanaan's weapon to illuminate our path. The maze of hallways led us up to an ominous, glowing rune. At the mere sight of it, Kanaan was possessed by an unholy fear that sent him sprinting through the passageways straight into a room of zombies.
Pelor came to our aid, and we quickly turned them into dust. At that very moment another group of undead shuffled towards the Morgan at the back of our party. By the time I had reached that end of the hallway, the Morgan and Morthos had reduced the group down to only a few enemies, but one was gripping Kanaan by the neck. Kanaan was no match, though, and soon the halls were empty again.
We believed that Kanaan's evil premonition was a sign that pointed towards the source of the unholiness. Retracing his path, we came to a crypt that would weaken the knees of any godfearing soul. Dozens of skeletons sprang from the dusty tombs and clamored towards us. Just as we put them to rest, five more took their place. Sylvar took down four with a single blow, and I was able to turn quite a few as well. Yet the victory was only temporary. Sensing something awry, Morthos questioned aloud whether we were gaining anything from this experience.
Kanaan and Sylvar discovered the means to end this cycle of undeath as Morthos and the Morgan continued to thwart our attackers. A small room at the end clearly opened into a hallowed tomb once blessed by Bahamut. Our only question was how to gain entry.
"Only the humble may pass," read the inscription above the doorway. We experimented with kneeling at the door and lighting and relighting the candles at the altar, but it was Morthos who was touched by divine inspiration and saw fit to kneel at the altar of Bahamut. (I believe this was not uncoincidental. As the Morgan eloquently explains, the Raven Queen is a close ally of Bahamut in this quest to end Orcus' rise to power and to restore the Raven Queen's undisputed position as Guardian of the Dead.)
Inside that tomb, we came face-to-face with the man responsible for the fall of Winterhaven's Keep, Sir Keegan Padraig. He challenged us singly, demanded to know our identity and purpose, and questioned us closely. Using perception, diplomacy, intimidation, and simple honesty, we won his favor and learned his story. Sir Keegan was a great knight and a defender of Winterhaven until the death of his wife Elizabeth left him grief-stricken. He turned to the dark arts in hopes that it would allow her to return to his side again. Now, generations after his destruction, his spirit lies in turmoil, guilt, and grief, unable even to remember her name.
Sir Keegan ended his story with an urgent request: "Bring my heir to this place. I must tell him my story and reveal to him the truth about my great-great-grandson." We agreed but pointed out that Ernest would be reluctant to believe us and even more reluctant to visit the cursed keep. Sir Keegan did not hesitate and handed us his sword to hold in his name.
As soon as we returned to Winterhaven, we awoke the Baron. They treated us with a cool respect--until they saw the Padraig sword. Ernest Padraig dismissed his servant and spoke to us in confidence. That was when we learned of his son: a man who left in search of Sir Keegan's sword and was presumed dead, but we knew to be both alive and a significant threat, Kallarel.
We began to prepare for our return to the keep, hoping that the Sir Keegan's sword was enough to ward off the curse that haunted Padraigs in that forsaken place.
"Three things cannot be hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth." -Illumination #7
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