From Spirit_Realm

Contents 1 Rumors on the Wind 2 Bound by Exile 3 Treachery within the Brood 4 The Hidden Passage 5 A Shadow Speaks 6 A Dragon's Riches 7 Madman's Curse 8 Seeking the Stone 9 A Path with Purpose 10 An Adventurer's Agreement 11 Search for Lost Lands 12 Adventurer Stone Messages 12.1 Guk 12.2 Mistmore 12.3 Takish 12.4 Rujarkian 12.5 Miragul 12.6 Morden Rasp

Rumors on the Wind

The filthy waters lap rhythmically at the shores of The Overthere. A well-worn boat parts the veil of lazy mist hanging still in the air as it makes its last strides toward land. The strained hull groans softly as it swims toward the sands, finally grating onto the shore.

A tall, tattered figure stands at the bow. His stature and the breadth of his shoulders give away his barbarian heritage. His eyes, gray as the waters, flit along the sands toward the outpost looming nearby as he assesses the immediate dangers.

Seemingly satisfied, he walks amidships, puts a hand on the side of his boat, Thorn of the White Rose. He jumps over the edge to land knee-deep in water with barely a splash.

With that landing, Morden Rasp took another step on the path of a rumor -- one that set him upon the waves and one that he intends to follow to its end. He has heard of trouble amongst the Sarnak.

Morden walks from the surf to a steep incline where grains of sand meet the grass. He leaves no trace, no footprints. As his body rises up to a ledge, he crouches in perfect relationship, his presence barely detectable.

He sees no trace of passing patrols, only wildlife wanders nearby as the willful rogue kneels motionless and quiet for a short time. The deep creases in Morden's brow begin to smooth as he sees no enemies. In ferine movements, he moves back from the ledge. On the sands once again, he turns and slips silently back to the boat.

"All is clear Nedaria," he says in a voice that travels on the air in soft baritones. "It looks like we found ourselves an adequate spot. I need to survey the area before we set up camp though. Come down."

A hardened Erudite face peers over the side of the boat at Morden.

"Lend me a hand?" she asks as she folds back the sleeves of her robe.

"I shall, but you must read my fortune tonight," he says, with a slanted grin.

"You never do anything for free, do you?" Nedaria huffs as she lowers the scruffy rope ladder.

He holds her gently as she carefully makes her descent onto the sands.

Morden and Nedaria turn and walk up the beach together. They are age-old companions, moved by loyalty to one another and adventure...anywhere

Bound by Exile

Pulling a blanket tightly about him, Morden Rasp shook off the chill of the night air. Firelight licked the scars on his weathered cheek as he turned his head toward the glow of the outpost in The Overthere. Two pinpricks of violet looked back at him -- the eyes of a dark elf. The dark-skinned prowler had crept around their camp for several nights, preying on any creatures hungry enough to investigate the mellow aroma of mead and stew.

Nedaria sensed no ill-will from the dark elf, as evil as his innate tendencies may be, and told Morden to leave him be; let him satisfy his curiosity and need to hunt.

"He is much like us Morden," she said. "I feel he may have some part to play here."

Tondal Di`Xevar kept still, his body pressed against the cold earth. He shivered slightly as the wind blew silvery strands of hair across his face. He felt the barbarian look at him, the erudite see into him.

It had been a long time since he'd felt a need for companionship, but he did now. Many times he considered returning to his place at the outpost under his master, Vaean the Night, even though it would be the end of him. Tondal was tired of being alone and having no purpose.

As he crouched, Tondal became lost in a nightmare in his memory. He replayed the night he chanced upon an open tome in Vaean's study, one that made clear that he was ripening Tondal for a vile necromantic ritual. Vaean planned to have Tondal become one of his many mindless minions. That very night, Tondal fled the outpost while his master slept.

Since then, Tondal learned to live off of his wits and the fruits of Kunark, defending himself with his sword and dark magic and calling upon the undead to aid in his hunting.

But, two days ago, Tondal felt eerily drawn back to the outpost. As he carefully crested a hill near the outpost, he spotted a boat on the shore and two travelers of the likes he'd rarely seen. Tondal knew they were aware of his presence, yet they did not attack or approach.

He crept closer this night, inexplicably desperate to talk to the male and female. He felt confident he knew enough of the Common language to convey his harmless interest in them.

Having been lost in reflection, Tondal froze as a hand gripped his shoulder. Instinctively, he crossed his right arm in front of him, drew his sword and pivoted on his right foot, swinging the blade in a wide arc. A shock ran up his arm as an expert parry stopped his blade short.

Tondal looked up and met the steely gaze of Morden Rasp.

Treachery within the Brood

The rumors and riddles about trouble within the Sarnak fluttered about like seeds on the wind. Finally, a few began to take root. Morden Rasp had faith that at least some of the rumors had foundations in truth and he made it his business to find out if they were.

As Morden bought pieces of information about Chardok, he also appeared to purchase a loyal following of like-minded adventurers. His wily charm afforded him low costs and simple agreements to share in the adventure of infiltrating the Sarnak's domain. Making such arrangements was second nature to the seasoned rogue. His years of travel and constant adventuring aided Morden in establishing a small, but relatively loyal following. The bulk of this band was waiting in Freeport, resting after a round of excursions through the Buried Sea and nearby gulf.

A shapeshifter was at work; there were traitors within the highest ranks of the Brood; high-ranking Sarnak citizens had disappeared inexplicably. The information was hard to piece together, the puzzle incomplete.

While Morden vanished for hours at a time, scouting the area and seeking news, Nedaria spent much of her time near the campfire deciphering notes and letters that had been trickling into the camp from hired spies. She made time to teach Tondal Di`Xevar the basics of several languages, like those used by gnomes and the high elves. In return, Tondal occupied Nedaria with stories of mischief about his youth, his dark elf brethren and their escapades around Norrath.

The loyalty between Morden, Nedaria and Tondal grew quickly and was so strong it was felt by all who encountered them.

It had only been a few nights since Morden invited Tondal to the fireside. That night, in dark speech, the three shared their lives and dreams until the glow of Drinal gave way to the rays of Ro. Morden and Nedaria felt tied to this dark elf who shared their adventurous spirits and lives as exiles. They felt closer than family, joined by their very souls for a great purpose.

They each knew that the time to lead their growing band of adventurers into the nearby burning woods was closing quickly.

The Hidden Passage

As Morden Rasp's camp of adventurers grew and readied for an expedition, the Overking Bathezid Di`Zok in Chardok called a secret council to his chambers. Those closest to the Overking were suspicious of Korucust's actions of late.

Over the past decade, Korucust ascended the ranks to become a trusted member of the Overking's security forces and had been rampantly making accusations of treachery within the brood. He pointed his finger at some of the most powerful Di`Zok and those he charged disappeared into his interrogation chambers.

The Overking observed that Korucust often vanished for days at a time with no explanation and it concerned him.

This night, the Overking's assembled council planned to pool its magic for a spell of powerful vision that would allow them to see into Korucust's rooms without detection.

The dozen members of the secret council filtered into the chambers and sat in a loose circle around the Overking.

One of the mages began to mutter an incantation. Then, another began. And another. Soon, the echoes of the chanting voices took an airy form, a window of sight, which the Overking controlled with his own mind. He willed the magic eye through the deep caverns of Chardok to Korucust's rooms.

He inched the eye through a wall where faint squeals emanated.

Gasps stole the air in the Overking's chamber as horror robbed the mages of their breath.

The Overking's own blood chilled and his heart darkened as he watched Korucust torture Gimliox Ran`Ti, one of the palace's master healers.

The only words Korucust uttered were in a necromantic language. His blood-coated arms were ablaze with a dark red magical energy.

Gimliox's screams began to ebb and his eyes slowly rolled under his scaled lids. Calm washed over his reptilian features.

The Overking immediately understood the extremity of the sinister arts that Korucust practiced. Gimliox wandered mindlessly into a dark hall after Korucust unshackled him. He could be heard muttering phrases of nonsense drawn from his shattered mind.

"I am Shai`Din. The Brood of Di`Zok is my enemy. I am Shai`Din. I am Shai`Din. Enemies are close."

Secrets in the Solusek Mines Mines Chalky fingers wiggled through a crack in the wall, deftly whittling the mortar and stone apart a little further. The fingers disappeared and then a muffled, repetitive thud came from behind the wall. There was a loud crack as the stone wall split apart. With one more thud the stones in the wall broke free and marked the mossy ground.

All was still for a moment.

Slowly, a dusty figure squirmed sideways through the fracture in the wall and worked its way outside. Coughing quietly and wafting the dust from his face, Morden Rasp squinted as he adjusted to the light of the day.

He reached back behind the wall and pulled out a number of lightly packed bags that clanged as they shifted in his grasp. A grin broke the sternness of Morden's face. Delighted about the treasures he lifted from the deepest halls of Chardok, Morden made his way to his camp.

Morden appeared out of the heavy mist, waving his bags.

"Do you have enough to satisfy you for now?" Nedaria asked dryly.

"There is no such thing as satisfied, me dear," snickered Morden.

Nedaria showed Morden a scribbled note that was delivered earlier that day from an oasis in the deserts of Ro.

"The Solusek Mining Company has sent word that the kobold tribes are more active than usual. The gnomes made mention of some sort of uprising. If the kobolds cause a great enough disturbance in Solusek's Eye, it will be interesting to watch if nothing else," Nedaria said. "These activities may open up great opportunities for us should they reach as deep as Nagafen's Lair."

Morden's eyes lit up.

"I know those lands well," Tondal said. "I remember them from my travels as a youth. We servants often accompanied our masters during journeys beyond Neriak's gates," Tondal grinned, happy to be of greater value to Morden and Nedaria.

Excited about a new adventure, Morden gathered the ever-increasing number of adventurers around him and gave them the order to start packing up the camp. It wouldn't be long before the adventurers would hoist the sail on the Thorn of the White Rose.

Fires and Frustration Morden took a worn rag from his satchel and wiped the sweat off his brow, leaving a light smear of dirt across his cheek. It had been several days since he, Nedaria, and Tondal first sucked the burning air of the place called the Lavastorm Mountains into their lungs.

"I've decided we ought to give our faithful band a name of some sort," Morden said. "We're becoming somewhat renowned, are we not?! I think we ought to take pride in what we do and who we are. . . aye. Knowing us like I do, I think we ought to call ourselves the Wayfarers Brotherhood."

Tondal's violet eyes shone with pride upon hearing the name.

"Yes, Morden. A fine name indeed. A real family," he said.

"Aye, I agree. It's been a long time coming and the name should serve us well as we continue our travels," Nedaria chimed in.

"Well, enough of that then, eh? Be sure to get the word out! As for me, I need to get meself back in those mines and find a way past that mess o' goblins and bloody clockworks," Morden moaned. "I've never seen such a blasted infernal place and I am really not used to such resistance to my good looks. Nedaria weren't even this difficult." He winked at Nedaria.

Nedaria sighed, shook her head and turned away from Morden to hide a smile.

Morden hummed as he wrapped three lock picks in leather straps, so they wouldn't make any sound in his satchel as he moved. He rummaged through a crate and gathered up some rope, a few morsels of bread, and a flask of water. He bid his friends -- now of the Wayfarers Brotherhood -- farewell and set off toward the crater bubbling with lava.

Nedaria busied herself building the camp in the Lavastorm Mountains with all the new adventurers that had followed from the Burning Woods. They all waited patiently as Morden continued his attempts to move with the shadows past all the terrible creatures in the Solusek mines. He had been trying for days to get close enough to listen to the whispers and wonderings within the ranks of the Solusek kobolds. It had proven difficult and Nedaria could feel his aggravation.

Nedaria and Tondal both hoped he would have more success this day.

A Shadow Speaks

Nedaria quietly reminisced about her youth. No one in Erudin had known she was different. As a young free-spirited erudite, she discovered she had an innate power to see into people's minds and overcome the boundaries of the present to glimpse into the future.

She remembered the first foreboding dream that came to her. One of the nobles of Erudin was planning to murder his own son who threatened to replace him and ascend to the city's council.

After rising from her sleep that night, she ran to her mother, Tilisea Nebeian, who was studying at the grand table in the library of their home. She tugged at her mother's robe and told her the nightmare she had.

Her mother first smiled with delight as she entertained the wild musings of her child. Then, as Nedaria continued, her mother's face twisted in fear. She quickly hushed Nedaria and ran into the storeroom, frantically throwing supplies into a satchel. Tilisea grabbed her daughter's arm tightly and dragged her quickly through the city and out into the darkness of the Toxxulia Forest. She crouched in front of Nedaria and handed the satchel to her. With tears glistening in her eyes, Tilisea held her daughter's face in her hands.

"Run now little one. You cannot stay here. The nobles will learn of your gift and rob you of all you hold dear -- your mind and talents. Talk to no one. Let your senses guide you. I will seek you out soon," Tilisea said in a single rush of breath.

Nedaria was terrified and confused, but turned from her mother and ran as far and as fast as she could. Her tears streaked her soft cheeks as she sobbed.

It had been many years since that night and she never heard from her mother again. Her heart withered knowing that her mother may have paid a dear price for saving her.

Nedaria's time within her memories ended abruptly as a sense of gloom passed over her -- a presence she was not familiar with was nearby. She looked up from the necklace she was crafting and saw nothing. She rose from her seat on a crate of blankets and turned her eyes to the east.

In the heat haze and geysers of steam, the shimmering outline of a humanoid figure moved closer. It was a shadow that moved without the need of an object to cast it.

Nedaria heard of shadowed creatures in Norrath that could move in the light of day. She also recalled that they were to be avoided.

The figure then crept backward behind the steam. Nedaria followed, believing that this creature of shadow would have already attacked had it wanted the blood of those in the camp.

Down the hill, under the gentle flapping wings of a fire drake, Nedaria waited alone. She sent out a soft voice from her mind, hoping it would reach the creature. In the Common tongue of Norrath, she repeated, "I am here to listen if you have something to say."

A gravelly voice whispered into her right ear. She remained motionless.

"We seek the same enemy. The servants of Solusek Ro need to be cast out. You know as well as I that this is the only path to true magical power. It is our place to rule the world. The pure and true magic of the Shadowed men is the only art," it said. "I can help you if you can help me. I can promise you power."

With her back to the Shadowed man, Nedaria listened as he told a tale of greed among the Solusek kobolds and a growing resentment of the resident lord, the mighty dragon, Nagafen.

A Dragon's Riches

The strong rule the weak. That is the law amongst the kobolds. But in the depths of Lord Nagafen's lair, one of the strongest of the Solusek kobolds grew restless.

While kobolds do not usually give in to pride, some do indeed give in to greed.

Heili Erat, a noble of the Solusek kobold clan, grew increasingly angry that he was left on the fringe of the royalty. The rewards he sought for his position were ignored. No matter how he petitioned for an army of his own, he was shuffled back to his filthy room, where he could often be heard pacing back and forth while cursing them all.

Heili decided it was time to seek power and riches of his own. He would find a way to line his pockets with gold.

For as long as Heili could recall, he had been told to stay away from Lord Nagafen, the mighty dragon in the bowels of the mines. He was told never to explore there or he would face the dire lord's fiery breath. The legends say that those who attempted to slay the dragon were stripped of all their riches and wasted away deep in the caverns-a place no Solusek kobold had ever set foot.

Rather than get the tangled fur of his own haunches seared by Lord Nagafen, he decided to send an unsuspecting slave. He called a kobold slave to his shabby room and had him sit in front of him. The noble quickly cast a charm spell upon the poor slave, bidding him to search the deep caverns of Nagafen's den to see what lay hidden there.

It is not known what the enchantment was that captured the slave, but it was somehow enough for him to catch a glimpse of a cavern filled with enormous heaps of riches belonging to Lord Nagafen. Heili saw it all as he looked through the slave's eyes.

That was the tale woven by the Shadowed man to Nedaria who, in turn, relayed it to Morden and Tondal. Morden believed the tale. The creases at the corners of his eyes crumpled as he smirked, his gray eyes glistening with the thrill of adventure.

Two nights had passed and Morden had finally reached the Solusek kobold's lair, where he perched on a ledge near a lava pit. He heard them growling about a hidden passage and the noble's idiocy. They said he was starting rumors and saying that Lord Nagafen's lair was not real.

In the shadows, Morden made time to watch Heili, the noble. He saw him caress an old crate on the floor of his makeshift room and cackle. He got up and paced past the torch on the wall and its flame flickered. It was enough to capture a glint of gold between the rotting wooden slats of the crate.

"There are riches of the likes we've never seen, my dear friends. I'm sure of it," Morden said with a roguish grin. "I've found a way for us to enter the hold. Prepare yourselves for adventure. We move today!"

Madman's Curse

A withered form stumbled about the Plane of Knowledge, his feet dragging over the stone pathways.

The agony and confusion the wizard felt in his mind was embodied in his physical presence. His robe hung scruffily around his frame and the tattered hem whispered as it trailed across the cobbles. Strings of dark matted hair dangled around his face.

At intervals, the wretched man, Calliav Giniuar, had moments of clarity and spewed broken words and splintered visions with a wild look in his eyes.

"Time! My lord in Time. . . We fail . . . dark days . . . shadows move under Norrath . . . sands . . . a curse . . . the stone!" he cried madly.

Calliav learned the legends about Zebuxoruk, the Forsaken, when he was a small boy. As he grew older, his dreams and hopes that the demigod Zebuxoruk could be contacted and freed from his imprisonment in the Plane of Time became an obsession. Calliav's awe of the knowledge that Zebuxoruk was thought to have was unbounded.

Year after year, Calliav honed his meditative skills. He believed he could reach Zebuxoruk, who he called his "lord," through a focused and loyal mind.

After many years of practicing meditative arts, Calliav's mind was able to transcend his body and make contact with ethereal beings. Thus far, he had never been close to feeling or seeing Zebuxoruk.

Day after day, Calliav continued to refine his focus.

Zebuxoruk had felt Calliav's spirit some time ago and believed he might make an acceptable repository for some of his knowledge. Having been imprisoned in Time, Zebuxoruk felt a need to find a channel that would allow his grim visions of the future to reach the citizens of Norrath.

One fateful night, Calliav focused his mind with such great intensity that the rhythm of his heart almost ceased. His breaths were long and deep. In those moments, Calliav's presence was palpable to Zebuxoruk, so he unleashed a fraction of his knowledge to the determined mage's mind.

Calliav was sorely unprepared, as any mortal would have been, to receive such a flood of knowledge. His mind was blinded and unable to sort, comprehend, and process. He opened his eyes, attempting to focus on a stack of tomes in his dimly lit room and couldn't. Reality became clouded by the unfathomable number of thoughts flitting across his mind's eyes.

Calliav felt an urgency about the knowledge Zebuxoruk had given him. A need to prepare for danger grew in his heart. Something dark and terrible was on the horizon-something so foul it was almost inconceivable. Logic crumbled.

A vision of a magic stone pulsed inside Calliav. He had to learn what it meant. Had to.

His mind screamed as his body tried to command his feet to take him to the Plane of Knowledge for answers.

He fell against the door of his modest room in the West Karanas. Something ominous and evil prowled just beyond his vision, choking his mind. "Doom," he thought. "It could be the end of us all."

Seeking the Stone

Trapped in the chaos of his mind, Calliav continued to stagger through the Plane of Knowledge, aching for calm and relief for many days.

As he continually wandered, Calliav caught the murmurs of passing Norrathians. Several times, he heard about a band of adventurers, the Wayfarers Brotherhood, which had become well respected for its success in finding information and exploring.

It was clear to Calliav that he should seek the leader of this crew of explorers, Morden Rasp. He would send a messenger to request his help very soon. For now, though, Calliav had to continue his research into the vision of glowing stone that kept haunting him. He believed it to be that magical stone that was stolen from the trolls-the Grozmok Stone.

Morden, Nedaria, and Tondal had gotten word that a raving madman was seeking their assistance to find an object of grave importance. Naturally intrigued, Morden wanted to learn more, but was uneducated about travel to and from the planes. Twice now, he had sent messengers to get word to the lunatic, but had heard nothing more.

If the news about the madman was true, Morden and his friends might face their greatest adventure yet. The idea was an alluring proposition for another reason -- now that Morden's team of outcasts and shunned travelers rivaled any powerful group of explorers on Norrath, Morden wanted to prove the worth of his great friends to the world. He was confident they could take on any challenge and be successful. No one knew adversity like he and the rest of the Wayfarers Brotherhood.

Morden was told by the last messenger that Calliav could arrive on Norrath at any time and that he would most likely find his way to the city of Freeport.

Nedaria agreed to lead the growing camp in Lavastorm while Morden and Tondal ran to Freeport. Tondal was familiar with the underground labyrinth of the sewers of the city.

The two companions ran with the shadows in Nektulos forest, slipping past the guards in the Commonlands. Arriving in Freeport, Tondal led Morden to the hidden entrance to the Freeport sewers. As they crept through the darkness, they came upon a pedestal holding a book. It emitted a power that made the hair on the back of Morden's neck stand on end.

The two edged their way around a corner to observe this strange object pulsating with magic.

It wasn't long before a low hum stirred from the book on the pedestal. The sound had such a deep resonance that Morden's teeth chattered. Tondal felt his chest vibrate as he watched a puddle of slime ripple at his feet.

The two shared a confused glance when a crimson glow began to fill the slippery walls of the sewer.

A Path with Purpose

The brilliance of the crimson light began to fade and a robed figured took an unsure step forward. Morden moved out of the shadows and was taken aback by the look of recognition on the mage's deeply creased face.

The mage extended a thin, trembling arm as his eyes began to roll back into their lids. The weakened man's knees gave way and he started to fall to the grimy floor of the sewer. Morden lunged forward with striking grace and speed, catching the mage before his head hammered the ground.

"Well, how do ye like that for a greetin'? I usually have to work a wee bit before folk fall to my feet," Morden cracked wise to Tondal.

"It is amazing to me how easily you amuse yourself, Morden," Tondal winked back.

The two collected the frail, shallow-breathing human and rested his back against the slippery wall. Morden looked him over.

"I believe this be 'im, eh?" Morden asked, looking to Tondal for confirmation.

"He certainly did seem to have issue with his faculties. I would guess it is Calliav Giniuar," Tondal replied.

"Go yeself back to Lavastorm and tell Nedaria to collect our friends and meet us in the Commonlands. There be an old swashbuckler there that will put us up for a while. We just simply can't take this poor soul to that infernal place," Morden said.

"We shall meet you there soon, friend. Be safe," Tondal hesitated a moment before he spoke again. "It may just be my excitement, but I think this meeting will be of great importance to all of us."

Morden looked at Tondal and nodded quietly.

"Aye, it may be."

Tondal turned and disappeared into the night outside the sewers.

An Adventurer's Agreement

The tunnel between the Commonlands and the deserts of Ro began to bustle with traffic. The presence of the Wayfarers Brotherhood caused quite a commotion as travelers attempted to understand their presence there.

The merchants felt generous as they made their fortunes from the boisterous band of friends. Mead, beer, bread, and grand meals were passed amongst the brotherhood. Laughter and loud voices bounced within the sandstone caverns.

However, in one corner it was quiet. A dark, graceful hand rested on Calliav's pale forehead. His skin shone with beads of perspiration and his eyes were desperate and sunken.

"Do not fight me, Calliav. I can help you, but you must open your mind to me," Nedaria said softly.

"I can not. If I open my mind again, I shall lose myself entirely," Calliav shuddered.

"We need to work together to bring order to your thoughts. If you don't harness this now, you will be lost in any case," Nedaria said sternly.

Calliav quivered and a drop of anguish slid down his temple. He tried to overcome his fears and frenzied thoughts.

"Alright. I am putting my trust and sanity in your hands. Don't lose either of us," Calliav groaned.

Nedaria leaned in and increased the pressure of her hand on Calliav's brow. He shifted his weight forward into her palm. He squinted as he focused on releasing his mind.

Soon, Calliav felt a calming essence enter his mind. While his mind rattled with images and voices, the torment he felt for days faded somewhat.

The hood around Nedaria's sleek forehead began to tremble. Her arms and hands followed. A stabbing pain throbbed in Nedaria's mind as she attempted to help Calliav focus his mental energy. She felt the frenetic pace of his thoughts, the number of them, and the magnitude of their meaning. Though she could not see what he did, Nedaria felt a sorrow unlike any she'd ever known. That Calliav's spirit survived at all was miraculous to her.

She released her grip and leaned back against the cold wall, rubbing her burning temples.

Calliav had stopped shaking. He opened his eyes and stared directly at Nedaria.

"You must help me find the Grozmok Stone. Agree to surrender the stone to me when it is found and I promise to offer you what information I can. What I can tell you may lead you to lost civilizations, dark horrors, and creatures that you've never seen wandering the lands of Norrath," Calliav said, as his gaze shifted from Nedaria to Morden.

Morden had been standing above them both, ready to break their intellectual bond should something go wrong. Upon hearing Calliav's request, he looked down at Nedaria with surprise and understanding. Nedaria nodded to him, knowing Calliav was not looking at her. She stood up briskly and went to talk to Tondal.

"Surely this is folly, Calliav. We have seen all there is in these lands," Morden said.

"No, there is much that you have yet to see and when you do you may regret having ever really opened your eyes," Calliav warned.

"With that kind of introduction, how could I possibly say no," Morden beamed, as he laid a hand on the troubled mage's shoulder. "So, where do we start?

Search for Lost Lands

In the warm air of the Commonlands tunnel, Calliav closed his eyes and began running through the countless images and visions filling his mind.

"I see snow, ice, and a great magic with no face. There may have been a face once, but it is gone now," he whispered. "There is little more to that, I'm afraid."

Nedaria stood close and kept her hand on his forehead, helping him slow the rush of thoughts. Morden took notes in a code only the most trusted Wayfarers Brotherhood could understand.

"Now I see blood. Lots of blood. The dead are walking, breathing, reanimating. They are unholy and feed in the most despicable ways. I see a castle . . . but there is much underground. Much more," Calliav said.

There was a pause as Calliav searched his thoughts. Suddenly, he winced and his face lengthened.

"Confusion, fear. The walls are collapsing and sand is rushing in. Half blood, half sand. Now they are all in sand. They do not know that the wrath of Solusek Ro has passed," he said in low tones. His cheeks glistened with tears of sadness.

Calliav's chest heaved as he took a deep breath. He paused again. Under his eyelids, his eyes fluttered wildly.

The hush around them was broken as Calliav gasped so suddenly that air whistled through his teeth.

"Oh my, the paladins are lost. I see the frogloks blessed by Mithaniel Marr are transformed. A curse holds their souls. I feel the burning hate of a god," Calliav panted. "And the orcs. The orcs have risen. Goblins have been overrun and enslaved."

Morden and Tondal looked to Nedaria. In both of their eyes, Nedaria read the need for confirmation of Calliav's ramblings. In many ways, the possibility of undiscovered lands felt too good to be true. Morden also had trouble believing that he could have ever missed such places in his travels.

Nedaria looked at both of them and nodded.

"These visions he is sharing are not fantasy. They are real. There is much strife deep within the earth . . . and darkness," she said.

Morden turned around to see proud members of the Wayfarers Brotherhood sharing past adventurers and creating new stories as they ambled about. He cleared his throat.

"Listen up brothers and sisters. Our time has come. Pack your goods and be prepared to travel. Nedaria will lead a camp to the Frigid Planes and Northlands on Antonica. Tondal will lead some of our brethren across the Ocean of Tears to the Butcherblock Mountains on Faydwer," Morden said. "I will remain here with Calliav and a greater compliment of the Wayfarers Brotherhood. We are about to open the doors to the future of all Norrathians, I expect. Off with ye!"

Adventurer Stone Messages

Guk

Selephra Giztral says 'Ahem, sorry. I had a fly stuck in my throat. By the looks of you, I'd say you're an adventurous spirit. Unfortunately, many similar spirits have been lost in that slimy place we now call Deepest Guk. In fact, those who have been overcome by the curse that creeps in there have lost their very souls. I'm hoping the next time we talk I'll have more information for you. Take care, most-promising hero.'

Selephra Giztral looks at you with one eye while the other surveys the surroundings. 'Well, I can smell the stench of that curse on you. That is the curse that was set upon the frogloks after they had driven the trolls out of their city. I hesitate to say too much more, because it sounds like a bit of fancy at the moment. Come back soon.

Selephra Giztral says 'It's good to see that you remain healthy, my friend. As time passes, I see more fair Norrathians fall to the curse down there. I do know that the curse was brought upon the frogloks through a troll, but we're hoping to learn more about the nature of it. The curse itself is like a living, breathing monstrosity that feeds on the souls of the living, twisting them into hateful pawns. The curse does have an epicenter too -- and it is most difficult to resist surrender to the curse there. Awful thing, it is. See you soon.'

Selephra Giztral says 'It's no wonder the trolls are so put off by my people. After all, we did rob them of their cities, both Guk and Grobb. I'm thankful that Mithaniel Marr sent down a blessing to the frogloks to help us overcome those foul trolls. You know, since the beginning, frogloks and trolls have warred with one another. I can tell you more later.'

Selephra Giztral says 'Ah, yes, I didn't quite explain how Mithaniel Marr blessed my people last time we talked. In fact, we have been blessed twice! I'm so glad you inquired. It's a very intriguing tale. I think you should go talk to a friend of mine - Bealya Tanilsuia in the West Commonlands. She is somewhat of a historian and can tell you more about how the frogloks of Gukta came to be. It's well worth knowing.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Yes, I know. No one expects a dwarf to know anything! I can see that in your eyes. I've taken an interest in the frogloks though. I've been around Norrath for some time and, much like you, often heard rumors. I wanted to find out for myself if the rumors were true. As a result, I became a bit of an expert. Well, enough about me. A long time ago troll shamans predicted the rise of a particular troll called The Grozmok. This legendary troll would possess great might and hold powerful secrets. All of the trolls were to be united under one rule, but as we know, this didn't happen . . . Oh my, look at the time! I must get back to my studies. If you'd like to continue our talk, you're going to have to come back later.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Right, where was I. Ah yes. Well, as I said, the trolls were meant to be united under the powerful troll they referred to as The Grozmok. The troll shamans believed in the prophecy so completely that they wrote it in blood on a strong stone tablet, which was supposedly blessed by both Innoruuk, the prince of Hate, and Cazic-Thule, the god of Fear. They called this artifact the Grozmok Stone. I understand that it will take a while to absorb all of this information. I'll just leave you to mull over that for now.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'So, yes, back to the Grozmok Stone. Well, the trolls guarded that stone with all the might they possessed. Then, the ogre minions of Rallos Zek, the god of War, turned their eyes to Innothule Swamp and slaughtered and enslaved all of those that crossed their path. Not only did the trolls fall, but the Grozmok Stone was lost to the ogres in the Rallosian Empire. Over time the ogres lost their favor with the gods and were cursed to become ignorant and slovenly. At this time, the trolls began to rise again as their numbers were able to increase without the interference of the wrath of the ogres. Well, Adventurer, I think that's enough for now.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Right, back to the trolls. So, the trolls began to rebuild over time and split into tribes. Two tribes were of note: the Broken Skull Clan that lived on an island in the Gulf of Gunthak, and the Ykesha Clan that established themselves in the Innothule Swamps. For many years, the two clans warred for dominance, raiding each other's territories and the mountainous lands of the ogres that had survived the destruction of their empire. It was in these mountainous lands that the Grozmok Stone once again came into possession of the troll clans. And, I tell you, the story just gets more interesting from here, but it will have to wait.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Hello again, Adventurer. So, a war horde from the Ykesha Clan recovered the Grozmok Stone and presented it to their leader, Warlord Ykesha. Ykesha's shamans recognized the blessings of the gods of Fear and Hate upon the hieroglyphs on the stone. At the time, Ykesha believed he was going to become The Grozmok. That's it for now, my friend. I have work to do.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Greetings once more, Adventurer. Right, more of the story. As you know, when individuals gain celebrity some strange things can happen. As I was saying before, Ykesha came to believe he was The Grozmok. He became insanely paranoid and holed himself up deep within his fortress in the Innothule Swamp, which is now Guk. Seeing the weakness in the Ykesha clan's leadership, the forces of the rival clans moved in to take the Grozmok Stone. The Broken Skull clan won possession of the stone and the Ykesha clan was destroyed.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'The few survivors of the Ykesha clan endured as scavengers in the Innothule Swamp for some time, until a new warlord emerged by the name of Jurglash, founder of the Grobb clan. The might of the clan grew quickly to become the prominent troll clan on the Antonican mainland. What? Yes, I know. I'm getting to the frogloks of Gukta. Patience!'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'More about the trolls and emergence of the frogloks, yes. Well, you see, the Grozmok Stone remained in the possession of the Broken Skull clan, hidden and guarded in the tomb of a legendary Broken Skull shaman named Nadox. The shamans in Grobb learned the whereabouts of the Grozmok Stone and a raid was sent to recover it from the rival clan, which it did. The stone was taken to Grobb where it remained for some time, awaiting the arrival of The Grozmok.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Still want to learn more, Adventurer? Excellent! Okay, so, the Broken Skull clan believed that The Grozmok would rise from its trolls, as they felt they were chosen by Innoruuk. Then, without warning, the Broken Skull clan attacked Grobb. With the aid of the Luggalds granted them by Innoruuk, they managed to invade the city with few losses and bring the Grozmok Stone to Broken Skull Rock.'

Bealya Tanilsuia says 'Back to where we were then, eh Adventurer? The loss of the Grozmok Stone left much disarray in Grobb. A rather shoddy force of trolls departed Grobb to try to take back the Grozmok Stone from the Broken Skull clan. The frogloks witnessed the peril that Grobb had fallen into and took advantage of the opportunity to recover their dignity and their lands. They prayed to Mithaniel Marr, their creator, and asked for his blessing, which they received. Hm, I think you should get some background on that from my good friend Selephra Giztral. Good day and good luck!'

Selephra Giztral says 'Welcome back Adventurer. Bealya Tanilsuia told you some of the history behind my people and the trolls, hm? Now, getting to Mithaniel Marr, my creator. When Mithaniel Marr walked the lands of Norrath before man was created, Cazic-Thule, the god of Fear, wished to seduce Mithaniel to his side. Many of Cazic-Thule's mortal minions were sent to assault Mithaniel Marr's mind and spirit. Mithaniel was strong and the minions could not instill within him the fear of their dark lord. However, they did succeed in luring the brave Mithaniel to the swamps of Norrath. An army of trolls, lizards, and other creatures of unspeakable horror plagued Mithaniel Marr and he became a captive to the minions of Fear.'

Selephra Giztral says 'Now, Mithaniel Marr, trapped in his prison in the swamps, prayed to his father, Tarew Marr the Water Lord, for salvation until he was so exhausted he fell into slumber. While he slept, Terris-Thule, Queen of Nightmares, attempted to steal Mithaniel Marr's Gift of Life at the behest of Cazic-Thule.'

Selephra Giztral says 'Hm, where were we? Oh yes, Terris-Thule attempted to capture Mithaniel's Gift of Life while he slept. It wasn't long before Morell-Thule, the forsaken son of Cazic-Thule, wanted to thwart his sister's efforts and intervened. Morell-Thule managed to harness Mithaniel's Gift of Life before his sister could and he split it in two. One half he spread across the swamps of Norrath and the sacred lands of his father, Cazic-Thule. The other half he gave to Mithaniel Marr's sister, Erollisi Marr, the goddess of Love. Oh, I must stop here. I need to get something else done. I'll have more for you soon. Be well, Adventurer.'

Selephra Giztral says 'Right, well, when Mithaniel Marr's Gift of Life fell upon the swamps of Norrath, the first blessed froglok tads were born. Those first tads faced the greatest challenges because the swamps were overrun with the destructive minions of the gods of Fear and Hate. Fortunately, the Gift of Life empowered the frogloks with the bravery and valor of Mithaniel. They survived and flourished. And, that is how my frogloks ancestors came to be, but that's not the end of the tale.'

Selephra Giztral says 'So, let's begin again, shall we Adventurer? The lord of Dreams, Morell-Thule, still had a part to play. He gifted the frogloks with dreams of the imprisoned Mithaniel Marr and offered them visions that would help free him from his prison. In time, the first adult frogloks rose in arms against the minions of Cazic-Thule, fighting valiantly to the site of Mithaniel Marr's imprisonment. They failed many times, sadly.'

Selephra Giztral says 'One moment. Oh yes, now I remember where we left off Adventurer. The frogloks continued to fight the hordes of Fear and Hate to reach Mithaniel Marr's prison, but were not able to overcome the strength and experience of the dark gods' minions. In time, a small army arrived on the borders of the swamp to aid them. I've run off at the mouth again! I have other things to tend to. I'll talk with you soon, friend.

Selephra Giztral says 'The army, right. An army of barbarians, Erollisi Marr's children, arrived in the swamp to assist the frogloks. They were drawn to the site of Mithaniel's prison through visions, much like the frogloks. Seeking justice for the imprisonment of Mithaniel, the brother of Erollisi, the barbarians joined with the froglok armies and freed Mithaniel Marr. Interesting, isn't it? Well, Adventurer, that's all I can tell you for now.'

Selephra Giztral says 'Now, while my people advanced and became organized, the troll clans still warred with each other and the Grozmok Stone was being tossed back and forth like a hot potato. A time came when most of the protectors of Grobb ignorantly left for Broken Skull Rock to retrieve the Grozmok Stone for Grobb. That was when we gathered our forces and prayed to Mithaniel Marr to bless us. And he did. He infused many of us with much-improved strength and purity of heart. With ferocious loyalty and purpose, we took Grobb from the trolls. That is how Gukta, Outpost of Marr, was created. I'll tell you more soon, I promise you, Adventurer. Time is precious these days.'

Selephra Giztral says 'Greetings once again, Adventurer. I told you that we ran the trolls out of what was once Grobb, did I not? Well, the remaining trolls fled to make their home with the dark elves in Neriak. The dark elves wished to get more information about the Grozmok Stone and the Broken Skull clan of trolls, so they allowed them to stay. The Grozmok Stone never returned to Grobb. I believe it is in safekeeping though. I cannot say anymore about that, for now.'

Selephra Giztral says 'So, on to where we are now. As my people gained strength and wisdom, we aimed to recapture the lands that belonged to us. Those lands included the swamp, Grobb, and now we turn our eyes to the old ruins of Guk, particularly Deepest Guk. To that end, we sent our most noble and valorous paladins to abolish the curse that tore through our froglok ancestors and anything that got close to it. It would seem you would do well to learn more about the origins of the curse. Please go to the Innothule Swamp and look for Deblik Grumblok, a troll friend of mine in the Wayfarers Brotherhood. He has a unique insight into the tale.'

Deblik Grumblok says 'Greetin's dere Adventurer. Me guess dat you want to hear more about de curse dat is making a mess down dere in Deepest Guk? Mm-hmm. First, you may wonder why me helping de Wayfarers Brotherhood? Me was sent away from my home and betrayed by my own chum in Neriak. Somehow me don't have de fear and hate my troll brudders and sisters do. Anyway, Morden Rasp took me in and me made friends. Me supposed to hate de froggies, but me don'ts. Anyway, where was I? Me forgot. You go away and come back someday soon and me will remember de stuff.'

Deblik Grumblok says 'Okay, so when Warlord Ykesha ruled in de swamps, we built a fortress dat became a troll city. My ancestors made de poor froggies slaves, so they were part of life in de fortress. Then, Warlord Ykesha went crazy! He kept hiding from everyone. He always thought someone was coming to kill him! Oh, me tired. Me needs a nap.'

Deblik Grumblok says 'Me not so tired now! Warlord Ykesha went so deep into de fortress and no one heard from him. Things went strange because trolls had no leader. De froggies saw dat de trolls were running around confused, so they started to organize. Uhm. Too much talking. Go away now and come back.'

Deblik Grumblok says 'De story is a bit scary. While Warlord Ykesha was crazy, de Broken Skull trolls saw a chance to kill a bunch of de Ykesha clan trolls and take de Grozmok Stone. And they did. When de Broken Skull trolls left, de froggies grabbed all de weapons they had stolen from de trolls and finished where they left off, taking over de fortress and they called it Guk! Me tell you more later. Promise!'

Deblik Grumblok says 'Me remember you, Adventurer! If me remember right, there had been no sign of Warlord Ykesha. All we know is dat he just got further and further back in de dungeon. Then something bad happened. A troll shaman was able to hide in Guk and remained unnoticed by de froggies for some time. In de dark, he prayed to Innoruuk to help him escape. Innoruuk heard de prayer and looked down. He was angry dat Mithaniel Marr's froggies took over de home of his troll children. Innoruuk let his ire pass through de troll shaman! Oh, good story. You come back later for more. Hee hee.'

Deblik Grumblok says 'Me knew you couldn't stay away Adventurer! When de shaman became a conduit for Innoruuk's hate, a very bad thing happened. De curse dat Innoruuk sent through de troll was so powerful it sent a deadly, soul-robbing shockwave through Guk. Anything near de troll had its soul stolen. De curse is so evil dat it created a living portal, a portal to Innoruuk's own Cauldron of Hate. Yeah, scary. Me know!'

Deblik Grumblok says 'Oh, yes Adventurer, there is more! After de troll brought Innoruuk's curse to de mortal realm, he died 'cause Innoruuk couldn't use him. But those froggies closest to de portal to de Cauldron of Hate were given de task of collecting souls to feed to de curse. Me thinks they are called de Witnesses of Hate, having looked into de very cauldron themselves. Ew. Poor froggies.'

Deblik Grumblok says 'We nearly done with this story! You know how there are undead froggies and living froggies in Guk? Well, dat curse is why! De undead froggies in Guk were touched by de curse. Down in Deepest Guk, de curse is strongest, so if you goes in there, cover your nose or something. My story is done now me thinks. You should go talk to Selephra Giztral again! Bye byes!'

Mistmore

Vual Stoutest says 'Greetings. I've been sent here to keep watch over what transpires in Mistmoore's Catacombs. I'm sure you know already that the Wayfarers Brotherhood are spread far and wide across Norrath. Morden Rasp, our leader if you didn't know, asked me to be a bit wary of those we're not chums with. Sorry to say you don't look familiar to me. If you manage to do a few jobs for us, though, I may be able to provide you with some information I have about Mistmoore's Catacombs. Xyzelauna Tu`Valzir may have some work you can do.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Well, we still have not seen hide nor hair of Mayong Mistmoore. Still, he remains elusive. Some fancy that he is biding his time in the Underfoot. I find it strange that he would not return to protect the catacombs we have now discovered. Our very presence there threatens all he has built there.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Remember when I told you that Mayong Mistmoore is nowhere to be found? There is a reason for it. He doesn't wish to be found. We have found journals and notes that indicate that Mayong, the first vampire of Norrath, is so consumed with achieving perfection that he cares for no one else. Those he has left behind in that dark place don't know this or refuse to accept it, because they all seek his favor. Strange way to live, or not live as is the case with the undead.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Hello Adventurer. You may be interested in this . . . We found a journal written by one of Mayong's servants who has long since disappeared. The suggestion is that Mayong's children are left in such disarray because his children, castle, and the catacombs were simply a whim; an experiment. Mayong surrounded his castle with the much-feared Tier'Dal whom he feels are suitable victims for what he feels is a gift. He felt that Norrathians would be more likely to keep their distance from the Teir'Dal. I can tell you after seeing the catacombs for myself that I too am fearful of the immortal blood which courses through him and his offspring.'

Vual Stoutest says 'I have to make this quick. So far, I've found out there are several different castes of vampires down there. I know there are Orphans, Sustainers, Loyals and Progeny. It also seems like those organizations of vampires are split. It's clear to me so far that the Orphans are the lowest and most filthy class of vampires in the catacombs. If you come back fairly soon, I will probably be able to learn more.'

Vual Stoutest says 'You sure are a budding adventurer, my friend. While you are not equipped to tumble the great immortal powers that fester within Mistmoore's Catacombs, you are certainly skilled enough to cause a rift between the scrambling beasts. There is more information about those denizens in the dark. I've heard whisperings about the class of vampires known as the Orphans. I think you might find there is a growing conflict between the two sects within the Orphans, called the Nightrage and the Savagefang. That's about all I know right now, I'm afraid.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Well, greetings again! While you were hunting in the dark caverns of Mistmoore's Catacombs we have learned a bit more about what is transpiring in that evil place. It seems that the Savagefang are at odds with the Nightrage. We are trying to learn more about them. We hear that the Savagefang find themselves superior to the other tribe. As I understand the rumors, the Savagefang are looking to rise above their lowly station having been shunned by the pure-blooded vampires. I'm not certain how they plan to gain power, but if you are able to spend more time amongst them, you may be the key that grants us the answer. Best of luck to you in thwarting this evil!'

Vual Stoutest says 'My how you have grown, fair Adventurer. I have missed your visits. I have more to tell you about the Savagefang, finally. A traitor of Mistmoore came to us and squealed about the intentions of the Savagefang. It would seem that the only way that clan can improve its power in the catacombs is to lure more vampires into their chambers. It seems the Savagefang are cannibals and will eat nothing but others like them! Because you and your fellow adventurers have been so thorough with your assistance, the Savagefang are running out of food. Now may be the best time to strike at them and upset their immortal blood flow. Beware the Nightrage too though. While the Savagefang won't be interested in taking a bite of you, the others will. Have no doubt.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Ah, the ways of the Nightrage is becoming more clear. They are a most savage ilk of vampire. After some observation, it's been confirmed that the Nightrage consume their victims whole. And, yes, as their name suggests, they most often feed at night. But it's always night in Mistmoore's Catacombs. Those varmints are always hungry. Ever on the hunt. Be on your guard of these creatures.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Adventurer, it is indeed good to see you again! As you probably figured out for yourself, the Nightrage and Savagefang are caught in an eternal vicious cycle. Mayong Mistmoore continues to be absent and unconcerned with the ways of his catacombs. Consumed with his own importance, as long as his minions remain constant and in balance, it is likely Mayong won't appear here to solidify the pecking order. That means it's up to us to keep these foul creatures under control.'

Vual Stoutest says 'It's been somewhat slow here the past while. We've had to venture deeper to get more information. Henai Silentwalker, one of the Wayfarers Brotherhood's best rogues, has been able to get more information about the catacombs. He hasn't been back this way in a while, so you can probably catch him in Dagnor's Cauldron.'

Henai Silentwalker says 'Ah, Vual has sent you to me. Well met! I've been sent here by the Wayfarers Brotherhood to walk with the creatures in Mistmoore's Catacombs. It's been a very interesting experience so far. I was able to figure out how some of the more powerful vampires behave, but it's been mighty tricky. The class known as the Sustainers certainly has some appalling dynamics friend! Come back soon. I will no doubt have more information for you after my next foray into the catacombs.'

Henai Silentwalker says 'It's good to know I'm not the only one investigating Mistmoore's Catacombs. I am impressed! The numbers of foul beasts in there are somewhat under control. I discovered that the Sustainers occupations are, in general, to keep the catacombs maintained and protected. For some reason, there are disputes among them even though they perform different functions. I've got to get back in there to find out more about it.'

Henai Silentwalker wipes his fevered brow. 'Whew, I barely escaped my last trip to the catacombs. Have you noticed that there is a silent, well-mannered war between many of the vampires within the catacombs? The same holds true for the sects of the Sustainers. The ones that call themselves the Crimson Cabal are mostly magic users and those called the Harvesters are the undead that maintain the catacombs and keep it clean, so to speak. They have a strong dislike for each other, though they manage to be civil on the surface. Odd that. That's about all I know right now, sorry to say.'

Henai Silentwalker says 'Ah, welcome back Adventurer! I see you have done well to help my friends, the Wayfarers Brotherhood. Remember the Crimson Cabal? I've heard that the Crimson Cabal continues the study of magic in the catacombs. They persist with their research and practicing magic that will best serve and protect their masters and Mayong Mistmoore. The problem is that the Harvesters are forced to live in close quarters and sometimes feel the brunt of the Crimson Cabal's magic as they experiment and practice. That, in part, is why the Harvesters tend to strike back.'

Henai Silentwalker says 'The Harvesters are certainly not the bright ones. I suppose as they are mostly unkempt dead, they wouldn't be too bright or organized. While that's true, I hear the Harvesters have been keeping a secret of their own. As they were pushed farther back into the catacombs by the painful magic of the Crimson Cabal, they found some rare and unusual ore. While none of us know what its purpose is, I believe it's significant.'

Henai Silentwalker says 'It seems that the strange ore found deep in Mistmoore's Catacombs is much like the other magical fragments we are finding deep under the crust of Norrath in the dungeons. It appears the material does indeed have a purpose. The Crimson Cabal and Harvesters will forever war with each other now that they believe the ore may improve their struggle to ascend from their lowly place in the catacombs. It is our job, thought, to be certain that the power amongst the two sects remains balanced. With your help, I think we can do it.'

Henai Silentwalker says 'Greetings Adventurer. I hate to say it, but I fear I have become diseased. I have spent so much time in the catacombs that I've become infected. It will be some time before I will be well enough to return. I am expected to make a full recovery though! All the research and information we've been gathering has provided a cure for what ails me. Be careful you don't catch it! A new party was formed and is taking over for me. They have been reporting back to Vual. You may want to go back and talk to him.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Well, Adventurer. Welcome back! By the looks of you, I can tell you're ready to learn more about what is transpiring down in Mistmoore's Catacombs. Did you know that the horrid place is woven beneath all the lands of Faydwer? We here, this group of coarse explorers, have uncovered secret entrances into Mistmoore's Catacombs. The labyrinth of tunnels and tombs extends outward from the Mistmoore Castle foundations like an evil claw. It's going to take a long time to explore the entire network of evil that has burrowed underground.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Ah, you again. I'm going to assume you've become aware of some of what lurks in those dead-ridden halls of Mistmoore's Catacombs. I've done some research on the Loyals class of the vampires. I've determined that the Loyals are those vampires that are in the service of the most powerful and elite vampires, the Trueborn. Some of the members of the Loyals are older than the elite, or Mistmoore-borne, vampires themselves!'

Vual Stoutest says 'So Adventurer, you wish to learn more? That is admirable! I've figured out that within the class of Loyals there are two sects. One is called the Bloodguard; the other, the Stewards. While the Bloodguard are tasked with protecting the catacombs and their own masters, they also ferociously guard the secrets and strength of the immortality granted by vampires. The Stewards are in the service of the elite vampires. Their duties range from advisors to tailors, satisfying all of the narcissistic whims of their masters.'

Vual Stoutest says 'The Bloodguard and the Stewards have been turning their eyes to each other lately. It looks like the Bloodguard is preparing an offensive attack that will all but decimate the Stewards. Words came to me on the wings of a bat about the Stewards trying to convince the elite vampires that the Bloodguard were no longer necessary and that a political power struggle may be on the horizon. There was some mention of some strange ore deep within the caverns too.'

Vual Stoutest says 'The Stewards have been collecting some strange ore that carries a strong aura of magic. It's clear that even the wise Stewards are not sure what the ore is for. The Bloodguard have also begun to collect the ore. The lower classes of Mistmoore's Catacombs also have orders to find more of the mysterious fragments.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Morden Rasp has advised us to continue collecting the treasures and gems from Mistmoore's Catacombs for the time being. At the same time, we are keeping a healthy balance between the two sects of power among the Loyals. I don't believe those creatures can exist without conflict with one another. Over this time, we have learned this much. It is our job to keep them in check, from now until the end of time, or the end of them. The Progeny are certainly a bigger problem as they are more intelligent and a great deal more devious.'

Vual Stoutest says 'The adventure party from the Wayfarers Brotherhood has been lost to the undead in Mistmoore's Catacombs. This has been terrible for us. We haven't received any new information in days. However, I hear that Elwinn Prelliaen has got himself a vampire that escaped the catacombs. The vampire was young and yearned for his mortal life. Elwinn was able to convince him to talk in exchange for some protection. I'm sure he's got access to secrets that I don't. He's deep in the Lesser Faydarks.'

Elwinn Prelliaen says 'Shhh, keep it down. There are many who would strongly disapprove of my protection of one of the vampires from Mistmoore's Catacombs. I've been keeping him safely hidden, so do not expect or attempt to usurp my efforts to learn ways to protect ourselves from the evil that lurks in those caves. There is much to learn about the Progeny. We know very little about them, other than they are the elite vampires. Some of them are even considered Mayong Mistmoore's children.'

Elwinn Prelliaen says 'Ah yes. Have you encountered Mayong Mistmoore's children yet? They call themselves the Progeny. But, there is some dispute about which of them should be the ruler in the catacombs. As a result, Mistmoore's children have aligned themselves in two ways: the Trueborn and the Scions.'

Elwinn Prelliaen says 'You may have learned that the Trueborn claim to have Mayong Mistmoore's immortal blood running through their blackened veins. The Scions are the most recent additions to vampire nobility. Most still have memories of their mortal lives. Both resent each other; both want to be in Mayong's highest favor. There is much more to learn, but I can tell you no more right now.'

Elwinn Prelliaen says 'It's rather peculiar that both the Trueborn and Scions war for Mayong's favor. Do they not understand that Mayong cares nothing for them? All Mayong desires is his own perfection, whatever that means. His narcissism is so complete it leaves him no room for his children. There appears to be no way to convince those pathetic undead in the catacombs of Mayong's indifference.'

Elwinn Prelliaen says 'I'm afraid I can tell you no more. The source of my information has disappeared. I'm not sure if he was found, or if he left of his own accord. During all this time though, Vual Stoutest was able to create another Wayfarers Brotherhood party to get to the still heart of the catacombs. You should go talk to him. Be well traveler. The world is becoming stranger by the hour.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Welcome once again, Adventurer. It's been some time since I've seen you. You are indeed more powerful, I can see it in your eyes. I'm sure you are one of the great adventurers responsible for keeping the undead in Mistmoore's Catacombs under some control. The blood of the vampire is so foul, is it not? By the way, I've learned more. The pride and desire for power among the Trueborn and Scions is keeping their numbers relatively even, though it shifts from time to time. It's remarkable really.'

Vual Stoutest says 'I think I'm beginning to understand those vampires better. I always wondered why they seemed to coexist quietly while their hated was so palpable it weighed on the air. And there was always death everywhere. During one excursion to the catacombs, I was observing from the inside of a coffin and I saw a silent assassin end the existence of one of the Trueborn. I surmised that assassinations among them must be frequent.'

Vual Stoutest says 'The more time we spend down there Adventurer, the more dangerous it becomes for us all. It just never seems to end! Unfortunately, Norrath's less experienced adventurers and friends in the Wayfarers Brotherhood have lost their mortal lives and now walk with the vampires and undead. If only there was a way to rescue them . . .'

Vual Stoutest says 'Back again, eh Adventurer? Thankfully, many of the Wayfarers Brotherhood's adventurers have fed us information. Have you noticed that the Scions are restless? It turns out that memories of their mortal lives still haunt them. Did you know that some of the Scions have not fully succumbed to the life of a vampire? We just recently learned that ourselves! For some time, they are able to resist the full descent into one of Mayong's children. They also keep the company of the living at times. Very strange indeed.'

Vual Stoutest says 'The Trueborn and Scions spend so much time focusing on getting attention and praise they will never receive. Mayong Mistmoore has not been back here since the Wayfarers Brotherhood found his catacombs. We are fairly certain Mayong has no interest here other than keeping a sufficient force of vampires and undead. Some think Mayong aims to start a war. I do not. I simply believe he's trying to maintain the power of the numbers of his children and servants so that if he needs to war, he can. My view? I think he aims to become a deity of his own making.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Both of the Progeny sects, the Trueborn and the Scions, have been collecting a strange ore from the lower classes in the catacombs. A deal was struck between the Progeny and the Orphans. The Orphans, the lowest rung on the ladder down there, have been supplying ore to the elites to learn what it is for. There are some among us who have made many educated guesses that I can't share with you unfortunately. We may have more for you a ways down the road of time.'

Vual Stoutest says 'Gracious me, Adventurer! Just when I believed you couldn't gain more experience and skill you show up here even more powerful than before. By the way, even more intrigue haunts the halls of Mistmoore's Catacombs. The Trueborn and Scions are back at their petty and useless attempts to be acknowledged by Mayong. The assassinations in their ranks are now rampant. And, with the intervention of the Wayfarers Brotherhood, the vampires never seem to achieve strong organization. Oh, and that ore they are storing away is starting to hum with unnatural energy. Very peculiar.' Vual Stoutest says 'My good friend, Adventurer! I've been contemplating the constant replenishment of the vampires in Mistmoore's Catacombs. It has occurred to me that many fallen comrades and curious Norrathians have succumbed to the vampires' tainted blood. Who can say if the vampires lust for more than only power. Or, has Mayong been visiting his catacombs? I'm not sure, but I'm suspicious. Still, the vampires seek to steal the best and brightest from the mortal realm. For so long as they have depended on secrecy to hide their existence and actions, and now they must not just fight themselves, but us as well. Who is to say what will happen in the future?'

Vual Stoutest says 'Well, I must say I'm impressed! You know as much as the Wayfarers Brotherhood about these dungeons that have been uncovered. Nicely done, Adventurer!'

Vual Stoutest says 'Well, I must say I'm impressed! You know as much as the Wayfarers Brotherhood about these dungeons that have been uncovered. I suggest you go talk to Morden Rasp in light of this accomplishment.'

Takish

Ruanya Windleaf says 'I must tell you, I'm a little saddened by the fate of the elves in Takish-Hiz. By all accounts, that city once held such great splendor and beauty. Now it is a such a menacing place. It does torment me some that I cannot walk amongst the echoes of my ancestors without fear. I'm so glad that you've come to hear the story though. I'm feeling somewhat morose at the moment, but I'd be glad to start this long tale another time.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'I apologize for my depressed mood the last time we spoke Adventurer. I am ready to begin the story of my ancestors now. The tale begins soon after the planet of Norrath began its journey around the sun, called Sol. Our fair mother of the Plane of Growth, Tunare, put the first intelligent beings on Norrath, the elves. About the same time, Brell Serilis of the Plane of Underfoot created the dwarves who dwelled inside the very crust of Norrath. Then, Prexus, the Ocean Lord, created the Kedge to rule the oceanic depths of the world. Around that time, Veeshan claimed the skies, Tunare the surface lands, Brell the underground and Prexus the seas. It wasn't that simple really, but it will have to wait. I must practice my archery now, friend. I need to be prepared for exploration and battle at all times.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'You have returned in good time, Adventurer. I am between tasks at the moment, but I will need to do more scouting of Takish-Hiz shortly. I wanted to tell you about a critical turning point earlier in our history. There was a time when the lands of Norrath were split amongst the gods so they would have true homes for their creations. Tunare and Solusek Ro, the Prince of Flame, both wanted to claim the Elddar Forest as their own. There was no settlement though, Tunare simply acted more quickly. As I will tell you soon, Solusek Ro took exception to Tunare's hasty creation of the elves. I must continue with my scouting now.'

Ruanya Windleaf beams with pride, her upturned eyes brightly greeting you. 'Ha, I beat my companion Escon Quickbow in an archery competition. Grand day! Yes, I have more information for you about Solusek Ro. The Prince of Flame watched the elves quietly build and live without conflict for thousands of years. Takish-Hiz was built out of wood and marble with much skill and beauty. It was so striking and bright the gods could see it glow from a great distance. Solusek Ro became envious and angry at Tunare and her creations. In fact, his vengeful acts brought ruin to the elves of Takish-Hiz.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'Quickly now, Adventurer. I have spotted some tracks nearby I do not want to lose. I just came back to the camp for supplies. Solusek Ro reached down to Antonica with his fiery touch and arched the spine of the world. The geographical act would be slow and not draw attention to his actions. He then called upon the power of the Ro, the sun. The sun began to dry the forest. Now, I really must go. I don't want to lose the tracks I found.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'The tale gets somewhat sad at this juncture. The elves watched the outer edges of the Elddar Forest wither and die and it was progressing faster. The druids of Takish-Hiz used their most powerful magic to try to stop the advance of the drought. They would call for rain and protection from Tunare. They received neither. Solusek Ro's grip was too strong. That's all I know about that part of the story. I think you should go talk to Farwein Windrun in the south deserts of Ro. He can tell you more.'

Farwein Windrun says 'Hail Adventurer. I'm certain that Ruanya sent you to me. That must mean you want to learn more about Takish-Hiz and the elves. I do have an interesting tale about that. Some call it folklore, but I say it is true. The story was passed amongst the wood elves for centuries. Give me some time to organize and we will talk, friend.'

Farwein Windrun says 'So glad you're here. I've been aching to tell my story. Soon after Takish-Hiz was built, not only did Solusek Ro become angry, Innoruuk did as well. He abhorred the sickly sweet and lovely elves and wanted to disrupt the peaceful city and cut into Tunare's heart. Sorry to stop here Adventurer, but I must practice. Don't tell anyone, but I've been learning the geomantic arts!'

Farwein Windrun says 'So good to receive you again, Adventurer. We can continue without interruption for a short time. When the Prince of Hate, Innoruuk, saw how happily and peacefully the elves lived, his ire burned like an inferno. He stole the king and queen right from their thrones in Takish-Hiz without any warning and imprisoned them in the Plane of Hate, his terrible home. Oh, I am afraid I must now return to the Faydarks for a short spell and visit my family. I have just remembered they talked about an artifact of the old elves they keep hidden. I am yearning to see it!'

Farwein Windrun says 'I had a wonderful visit with my family, Adventurer. Where were we? Hm. Ah, yes. Innoruuk tortured the elven king and queen of Takish-Hiz for 300 years. He twisted their minds and tortured their bodies until they were no longer beautiful and bright. He rebuilt them as he saw fit until they became the first of Innoruuk's intelligent abominations on Norrath. They became known as the dark elves, or Teir'Dal. Speaking of frightful, I must return to Takish-Hiz. My friends are signaling me to hurry our discussion. I'll see you soon.'

Farwein Windrun says 'The story of the elves and Takish-Hiz is becoming more familiar to me the more I tell it. I must say though, it is heartbreaking to learn that the Elddar Forest used to stretch across the entire southeastern quarter of Antonica. I am sure we would have found it magnificent! It is even sadder that some of the gods had such a hatred of the elves. Anyway, I must go cook my friends a meal. I would suggest that you return to Ruanya Windleaf to discuss more about the fate of Takish-Hiz and the elves.'

Ruanya Windleaf looks over a strange piece of blue ore and hides it when she sees you approach. 'Hail Adventurer. These are certainly interesting times. We are seeing all sorts of new things these days. I do need to tell you what happened in Takish-Hiz that led to the demise of many of my elven ancestors. I must ask you to remember that Solusek Ro called upon the power of sun we call Ro that would ultimately be the end of the first elven city. I must continue my fletching right now, but when you return, I can tell you more.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'How nice to set eyes upon you again Adventurer. Like I had said, the destructive heat of the sun called upon by Solusek Ro brought the Elddar Forest to its end. As the trees withered and became petrified and the soil lost all of its nourishment, sands began to close in on Takish-Hiz. King and Queen Tak'Yaliz, who replaced the first King and Queen Tak'Hiz that were stolen by Innoruuk, commanded all of the elves to protect their city from the encroaching sands. Can we talk another time? Patchka Ceorvra needs my assistance with gathering some shrubs for her alchemy practice.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'Let's begin again, Adventurer! All of the elves of Takish-Hiz brought their strongest magic outside the city to protect it from the heat of sun. They fashioned aqueducts and resurrected trees and planted new ones to try to force the sands backward. As the natural resources needed to perform their magic dwindled, the elves had to look elsewhere. King and Queen Tak'Yaliz and their advisors called a grand assembly with the druids to propose an alternative that would be a massive undertaking. That's all I have time for right now. So much to do!'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'Lend me your ear again, Adventurer and we'll continue where we left off. During the assembly of the druids of Takish-Hiz, the king and queen pointed their faithful citizens toward a new magic art . . . geomancy. All of the citizens of Takish-Hiz were then given specific duties that would save the city. Some citizens were sent out to maintain the forest with shovels and seeds, and others were sent to the great libraries to learn and improve upon geomantic arts. I have to meet a fellow wood elf for more information on the story, but I'll be back soon.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'I have more detail to give you Adventurer. As the sands continued to pour in around the elves of Takish-Hiz like a merciless sea, parts of the city began to fall to the pressure of the failing earth. But the elves did not falter in their resolve and desire to save their home. The geomancers used the sands to form new walls where the stone crumbled. All the wood that cracked and split under the advancing sands were also replaced by reformed earth. Soon, large parts of the city were replaced with sandy architecture. Each day the elves fought to maintain their city, but it would be a battle that would seemingly never end. I must make an entry in my journal now, friend. Return soon!'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'That Calliav certainly is an interesting sort. From time to time, he has visions about Takish-Hiz and tells me what he sees. Lucky for us, I suppose! Anyway, let us continue with the story. The king and queen of Takish-Hiz came to accept that much of their city was buried under the scorching sands and what remained was fast becoming unlivable. They saw some of their most faithful and powerful geomancers trapped in ruins of the city as some of the structures failed. It was time to make a decision. I'll tell you more about that later. I have to do some foraging. We're running low on supplies.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'More about the elves? Good! King and Queen Tak'Yaliz used a great horn to signal to all of their citizens that it was time to flee their failing city. They decided it could not be saved. The elves, weary and worn, left the scorched earth that came to be known as the deserts of Ro and made their way across the Ocean of Tears to a new and fertile land. They began to settle in a forest named the Faydarks that was much like the Elddar Forest once was. What they did not know is that some of their ancestors did survive deep beneath the sands in Takish-Hiz. We must discuss this another time, friend. I have a guest coming soon and I need to prepare.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'Hail, Adventurer. I would recommend you go inquire about the decrepit state of Takish-Hiz and the elves with Niflel Faliwae in the Greater Faydarks. She has been doing a lot of research on the elves of Takish-Hiz and has quite a tale to tell. She can provide you with more insight than me. Safe journey!'

Niflel Faliwae says 'Ah, you've come to learn of the fate of the elves of Takish-Hiz. Well, as the elves of the Elddar Forest fled to Faydwer, some that were trapped under the sands within the city of Takish-Hiz continued their efforts to prevent the sand from completely taking over the city. There were many of them and they were completely unaware that the city was abandoned and expended all of their energy trying to rebuild the city and free themselves. It is the hour for me to meditate friend, but I would be pleased if you returned to hear more.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'I am happy you have returned. The fate of my ancestors is significant in my opinion. The elves buried in Takish-Hiz began to get desperate over time. Food supplies and natural resources were dwindling at an alarming rate. They needed to buy time for their rescue. Then, the masters of geomancy agreed to conduct a most unusual experiment, mostly out of curiosity, but all quietly recognizing it may be useful in the future. They gathered a number of insects and began to reconstruct their biology with sand using the geomantic arts. It took many attempts before the first insect survived with legs made of sand. Once they had mastered the recreation of limbs, they turned their focus to organs and brains of the lowest forms of living creature in the sand-filled city. Sorry, Adventurer. This is a long tale and I must break it into digestible portions. Return soon and I will tell you more.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'I keep finding more information on the elves, the more time I spend in Takish-Hiz. Yes, back to the geomancers endeavors. While the insects they experimented with had no brains to speak of, the geomancers were able to recreate the insects entirely and the resulting sandy beings behaved normally in their eyes. With what they had learned from those experiments, the elves were able to summon a variety of creatures that could assist them with keeping the city repaired. More another time then, Adventurer? I do hope so.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'I've found a journal with the most thrilling story! It says that when the remaining food was nearly all consumed in Takish-Hiz, the surviving elves had to consider alternatives on how they would live. Collectively, they had some ideas with implications that were horrific to the geomancers. But then, one brave elf, Cirwea Strongbow, overlooked the geomancers discomfort and begged them to use his body for a most dangerous experiment. As Cirwea's arm was crushed when part of a great stone wall fell on him, he hoped the geomancers could replace it with their magic. His arm was turning black quickly and he feared he would die anyway. He was also hoping he might be the first elf that would be completely turned to sand. Find me soon Adventurer and we'll go further on the path of this story. I need to read more myself.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'Hello Adventurer. I've spent much time reading and piecing the story of the elves together. As it happens, the geomancers were reluctant and afraid that Cirwea could lose his young life altogether if they experimented on his arm. However, Cirwea urged them on. He convinced them he would die anyway as there was nearly no food left and his arm was rife with disease. The geomancers acquiesced and worked for many days to prepare, practicing on several creatures that were available to them. When the geomancers were more confident, they coaxed the last wolf of Takish-Hiz into their special summoning chambers. They managed to completely replace the wolf's flesh with sand. Together they decided they were satisfied with the results as the dog behaved as it usually had. That is when they turned their attention to Cirwea. We must end this for now, Adventurer. We will both know more by the time we see each other again.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'This is a most unusual story, Adventurer. I read that the day finally came for Cirwea and he was prepared for the test. He was rested on a bed of sand with his arms and legs were outstretched. The geomancers put him into a trance, gathered around him, and joined hands. Together they all crouched to the floor and buried their fingers in the sands. They began to chant and their arms glowed blue, yellow, and green with their summoning gifts. The sand underneath Cirwea shook and undulated in ripples around him. They were upon the moment of truth. With more time, I can continue. This is as far as I've gotten in the tale myself.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'This journal about Takish-Hiz has me mesmerized! It says that as the geomancers stood around Cirwea, chanting, one of the geomancers leaned forward on her knees and began sculpting sand into the shape of an arm. She lifted the sculpture and it remained bound by the magic. She laid it on top of Cirwea's bruised and broken arm and pushed lightly downward. Sparks of blue magic danced around the sculpture of the arm as it worked its way into Cirwea's flesh and bone. In a moment, the magic dissipated. Cirwea blinked and opened his eyes. They all waited, barely breathing. With a smile, Cirwea turned his eyes to each one of the geomancers that stood above him. Then, he wiggled the fingers on the hand of his sandy arm. Fantastic, is it not? You must go now so I can read more!'

Niflel Faliwae says 'How terrible it must have been in Takish-Hiz, hm? In my last reading, I learned that as food became extinct, the geomancers all began to replace their living bodies with sand. The one part of the body they did not dare replace was their brains. While the wolf they had transformed into a sand creature long ago still lived, it was not as rambunctious as it once was. It was a cause for concern, but all of the remaining elves knew they would have to abandon their natural biology or they would die. All of their efforts would be for naught if they were not able to survive with their skills and spirits in tact. They wouldn't be able to protect the city. I'm aching to read more, Adventurer. When I see you again, we'll carry on.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'The bravery of my ancestors really makes my heart proud. Again, Cirwea offered his head and mind for the first experiment the geomancers would perform. His bravery and faith in his fellow geomancers was unequaled. With his usual persuasiveness, Cirwea told his fellow fading elves that they had to try or none of them would survive. Once again, they prepared the summoning room. The tension in the air felt as heavy as the sand bearing down on them. I'm afraid that's all I know at this point. I plan to read more soon.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'I was able to steal a few minutes with the journal left by some of the Takish-Hiz elves and read some eerie details around the grand experiment they conducted. The geomancers all gathered around Cirwea once more, but this time his eyes were lifeless. Ahead of time, the geomancers created a unique sculpture that was a totem. They were able to trap Cirwea's spirit within it. It was hoped that the spirit within the totem would be released within Cirwea's completely earthen form. Their eyes shone more keenly this day because they knew they faced the answer to the question they had all been asking themselves . . . would they be able to survive as sand creatures? And so, the summoning ceremony began. That's as far as I was able to read! I must get back to it!'

Niflel Faliwae says 'This journal is the most fascinating text I have ever read. To continue, dear Adventurer, the summoning ceremony finished and once again Cirwea opened his eyes. The elves were all somewhat taken aback as his eyes did shine once again, but now his eyes were made of gems. Once more, he smiled. In a gravelly voice, he said 'My name is Cirwea and I am your first sand elf!' From that moment, the elves began their feverish transformation to becoming sand elves. But, they should have waited longer to see how this new form would affect them over time. I'm not sure why, because I haven't read that far. When I find spare time, I will read more, I promise!'

Niflel Faliwae says 'Goodness! I have been anxious for you to return so I can tell you more! Cirwea, the first sand elf, was also the first to show an alarming change. He talked to his fellow geomancers less and less as the days passed. He was consumed with constantly repairing and rebuilding the city. While his fellow elves would take time to talk and share their lives, he would continue to manipulate the sands. Then, the other elves began talking less and less. I'm afraid there are some pages missing in the journal. I plan to return to Takish-Hiz to find them.'

Niflel Faliwae says 'I found most of the missing pages! It seems that there was a desperate attempt by the youngest sand elves to restore all of the spirits of the sand elves into new totems so they would be protected. In the process, they lost several elves completely as their spirits were all but gone and could not be trapped into the totems. Some of the elves toyed with ending their lives, but hoped that someday that if they were rescued they could be restored to their formal physical beauty and intelligence. But it was not to be. I must read the final pages, dear Adventurer. Come back soon and we'll end this tale together!'

Niflel Faliwae says 'I should have been prepared for the sad ending of the elves, but I was not. My heart is troubled. The final pages of the journal ends as all of the elves succumbed to their sandy hosts and all lost their love for life. The journal became hazy because there were no elves to finish it. The sand elves you see now are just echoes of the elves they once were. They are not really the ancestors of the elves because they have become something else. They still see the continuing threat of the sands burying their city and continue to rebuild it with the sands. Now that we have discovered them, they fight even harder to protect all that they have sought to rebuild. That is all the information I have on Takish-Hiz right now, I'm afraid. You should go visit Ruanya Windleaf. I believe she may have more to tell you.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'The story of the sand elves is sad, is it not? While you were away, we were able to learn more about the sand elves as they move about Takish-Hiz now. The elves do retain a faint memory of what their professions used to be. The Flowkeepers oversee the movement of the sands in the city. They are somewhat like advisors to the elves and indicate when the tides of the sands are in the best position to perform summoning ceremonies. They patrol the city looking for impending damage. With a bit more time, I can tell you more, dear Adventurer.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'We've just returned from another expedition into Takish-Hiz. We discovered that the Geomantic Compact compliments the Flowkeepers. The compact is comprised of priests that are the primary force behind the summoning ceremonies. The Geomantic Compact is also responsible for making sure the hourglass that remains in the city is constantly turned, so the sands still indicate time. The Geomantic Compact holds the masters of geomancy. There is more study required before we continue, my friend.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'Greetings Adventurer! While we were exploring, we came upon the Royal attendants. They are all that is remaining of the advisors and guards of King and Queen Tak'Yaliz who had long-since abandoned the city. They became quiet workers, but they are very skilled with weapons due to their former professions. They were the warriors of the realm. Now they are just faint semblances of their former heroics. Extremely sad that there were so many survivors left behind, isn't it?'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'It is indeed unfortunate that we lost one of our best during a jaunt to Takish-Hiz. The Jeweled Guard, remnants of the most fearsome of the elves, were the warriors and masters of battle in the city. Even in their spirit-drained state, they continue to train and behave with great discipline as they play out the habits they used to have when their spirits lived within them. While they are only shades of their former selves, they are still ferocious in a fight. In fact, I got a few scars myself from them that need attention. See you soon, Adventurer.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'I've discovered a bit of madness in Takish-Hiz, dear Adventurer. The Cave Dwellers in the city are the outcasts of Takish-Hiz. Many are frail and appear crazy and unable to function. These are the most faded of the sand elves that had the weakest spirits to begin with. It's very upsetting to see the glow completely gone from their eyes, though. No matter, they are just shades of their former splendor. I must go visit with Nedaria Debeian and tell her what I've learned too.'

Ruanya Windleaf says 'I was hoping you had come to tell me something Adventurer! I am out of information to relay to you. I suppose this means we're on equal footing! I'm fairly sure the Wayfarers Brotherhood considers you an ally by now! I've much enjoyed bending your ear with my story. I hope maybe someday you will do the same for me!'

Rujarkian

Barstre Songweaver says 'Bah, you made me miss a note! No matter. I've been interrupted a lot lately with all the inquiries I get! I've been collecting stories and information from all over these days. I fancy myself a bit of a historian now when it comes to the goblins and orcs. It's important to understand the history of both of those creatures to understand what is happening in the Rujarkian Hills. That's my opinion, anyway. Those are no ordinary orcs in the hills. See me soon and I will have a tale or two for you.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Wonderful to see you, Adventurer! I always enjoy telling a story to a fellow explorer. Let's start with the goblins and the orcs and where they came from, shall we? To start with, you should know that the hero that was considered the mother of all of the goblins was named Rujark. Her name is about the only thing the goblins of Norrath can agree upon. Obviously, the hills over yonder once belonged to Rujark's goblins, but they do not anymore. That's all I will divulge for now!'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Perfect timing. I just put down my lute. Did you know the orcs were created by Rallos-Zek? Oh yes! They were bred for battle. Mighty creatures indeed and very determined. They rely on slaves, whether they be orcs or other creatures. Each orc seemingly belongs to another! Return soon for more Adventurer. I'm sure we will spend a lot of time together!'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Just finishing up some bread. Let's make this quick. As I said before, each orc belongs to another. We know it's true. This makes the social order of the orcs very simple to follow. Each orc is property, all the way to the highest ranks. The highest ranks relate to one another a bit differently though. Unfortunately, I don't have much more detail that that! I wonder if this will help you defeat them? I don't know that, but I do think knowledge can be a weapon.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Welcome once again Adventurer. As I said, while orcs are almost always the property of another, it's someone different at the top ranks. The highest levels of the orcs maintain their positions through trading and sharing property, and fighting to prove their supremacy. It's a complicated system that is constantly in motion. In order to keep their positions, the top ranks constantly build their stable of slaves and defend against those yearning for power. Can you imagine that life? How depressing! They must forever be on their guard. To be owned would be a foul fate!'

Barstre Songweaver hums a mesmerizing melody and then stops. 'Ah, yes, Adventurer. Hello. I am sure you have seen the vast number of goblins being used as slaves in the Rujarkian Hills, have you not? Well, I have a friend that can tell you more about their origins. Various clans and species of goblins are indeed spread across Norrath, but the Rujarkian goblins are different. You'll find Ginehl Wiquar in the sewers of Freeport. She's been gathering information from all sorts of messengers around the world about the Rujarkian goblins and orcs.'

Ginehl Wiquar says 'Ah, you're here to receive information. I've have a steady stream of messengers bringing me more history around the goblins and orcs in the Rujarkian Hills. It's a very interesting story. The gods themselves were involved, don't you know. You see, Solusek Ro, the lord of Flame, created the Serpent Mountains by arching the crust of Norrath and brought burning heat down upon the inhabitants of Norrath. A tribe of goblins and orcs were trapped somewhere beneath the surface. The ages of evolving, warring, and fighting produced the result we see in the hills. The goblins lost their control of the hills some time ago, but I don't know when. There is much more behind that story though. I can tell you more later. There are too many ears about.'

Ginehl Wiquar says 'More about the Rujarkian orcs and goblins, hm? Well, over the years, the orcs trapped underneath the Rujarkian Hills advanced in ways we've never seen. There are no other orcs in our lands that have attained the same organization and strength these vessels of battle have. There was no way the goblins could prevent the rise of the orcs and the fall of their superiority in the hills. Run along now please, I'm expecting someone. I'll see you soon, I have no doubt.'

Ginehl Wiquar says 'I certainly understand your continuing interest in the evolution in the Rujarkian Hills. Those poor worshippers of Brell Serilis, the goblins, really didn't stand a chance against the orcs. I can see why the dwarves aren't too fond of the idea that their own father has anything to do with the goblins. It seems reasonable to me though as both races are experts with life underground, wouldn't you say? Okay, I must ask you to leave again. Some of my more unsavory contacts will not approach while I have visitors.'

Ginehl Wiquar says 'How do you do, Adventurer? We've done some more investigating into the Rujarkian Hills as more of our adventurers infiltrate the ranks. There are far more of them than we imagined. We've found some accounts of the history of the goblins too. Barstre Songweaver has had some time to study them further. You should go back to him. I'm sure the information is useful.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Ah, Ginehl has sent you back to me! Good timing too. I've been piecing together information from journals and folklore about the goblins and orcs. The story behind how the Rujarkian Hills got their name is an interesting one indeed! I believe I already mentioned Rujark, the mother of the goblins. There is an interesting tale behind how she became the heroine that all goblins admire. She's also about the only thing the goblins will agree on. There is no time to get into this now, but we will find time to discuss this soon, I am sure.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Finally Adventurer, we have time to talk. Well, Rujark had a vicious heart as a young goblin. While her brothers and sisters would spend time in the mines, she would often sneak off and learn the ways of battle. Female goblins were not considered warriors in those days at all. She was supposed to answer to the whims of all the males that had duties for her. Her desire to see battle was fierce, though, and she resisted her station. After performing her daily duties, she would disappear into the dark caves and teach herself how to use the weapons she would find discarded. There is so much more to tell, but I have no time now! I'm starting to compose a song about the history of the Rujarkian Hills.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Rujark, yes. You are in luck. Because I'm writing a song about the Rujarkian Hills, I have been traveling and looking for more particulars and I always get told more of the tales. So, I can tell you now that after years of practice, Rujark became a master of all the weapons she had found. She had extraordinary agility and dexterity. After some time, she chose to take her skills to the surface of Norrath to test herself. She was anxious as she waited for the right moment. Getting caught would mean the end of her! She was not afraid of death either. She had seen plenty of that as the goblins fought the orcs over the years. That's almost all of what I know. I need to gather more of the story for my song, so I will probably have more information for you soon.

Barstre Songweaver says 'I found great subject matter for the chorus of my song! It goes something like this . . . 'Rujark, oh mighty Rujark of the hills -- there were none that could match her skills. With great might and ferocious heart she would tear all of her foes apart!' Good, yes? Well, I discovered that Rujark finally made it to the surface of Norrath and as luck would have it, she spotted a camp of orcs, Crushbone orcs to be exact. They were shorter and appeared weaker than the orcs she lived with all her life so she was somewhat disappointed. However, they proved to be worthy test subjects for her fighting skills. She snuck up to them and before they could take their next breaths, they were slain. Or so the story goes . . . I must continue writing the lyrics to my song, Adventurer. Come back soon though. I hope to have more.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Hey-ho Adventurer! I had to rewrite some of the notes of my song. It's quite complicated making a musical masterpiece! So, from where we left off, the story goes that Rujark didn't know that her brother, Givlikk, was wise to her habits over the years and had followed her out of the caverns to the surface. He saw Rujark's skill and grace with her two short blades. He was impressed and envious at the same time. He ran home ahead of her and waited in silence for her return. I have a friend in the Karanas I must speak with. I heard he has more information I can use to tell you and put in my new song.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Where were we again, Adventurer? Hm . . . ah yes. Rujark returned to her hovel in the caves and her brother Givlikk stopped her as she attempted to pass through the door. He asked her about the blood on the rags she wore. She was unsure of her brother's intentions and said nothing. He told her he had seen her fight the orcs. He quietly resented his sister's skills, but could not ignore their magnitude. Together, they would come up with a plan that would suit them both. I think I made the verse about this a little faster paced than the others so I can build some suspense!'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Each day, I get closer to completing my song. The notes blend so well now and the lyrics are moving along! I had to pay for some information, but it was useful. As you know, goblins are not known for their empathy. Therefore, while Givlikk and Rujark discussed how to proceed with her skills and secrets, he had his own agenda. Givlikk entertained thoughts of trading Rujark as a guard to slave owners in order to make a great deal of money. The only problem was she was female. No one would buy a female warrior. And that is when they hatched their plan. I must stop here for now. I just thought of a great lyric for part of my song!'

Barstre Songweaver says 'My friend, Adventurer, it is so good to see you! I keep working on this song of mine. It continues to grow the more I learn about the Rujarkian Hills. As you may have guessed, Givlikk and Rujark both decided that if Rujark was presented as a male, she could live as she had always dreamed and would be of great use to the goblins overall. They changed her clothing. In order to disguise her female features and her former identity, Rujark willingly let her brother Givlikk scar her face with a burning dagger. Of course, it was a task he enjoyed greatly. His envy of his sister grew every hour, every day. That is all I have uncovered for now, friend. Return soon and if my song is done, I will play it for you!'

Barstre Songweaver says 'I've come to a part in my song that will have to move the audience to great anticipation! I think I shall use minor chords for that part, hm. So, yes Adventurer, as Rujark face was bandaged until her scars healed, she easily fit among the male goblins. She refrained from speaking and loyally took orders from her battle master. They would often raid the orcs. In every fight, Rujark killed twice as many orcs as the rest. Rumors and fanciful stories began to get passed around the caves under the spine of the world. Must go, Adventurer. I really want to finish this portion of my song.'

Barstre Songweaver stops tuning his lute. 'Nearly there Adventurer! I will be ready to sing the song soon. I have more to add about Rujark, though. If you recall, the goblins began to tell heroic stories about Rujark. She was lauded as the most fierce and impressive goblin of all. Even the nobles became nervous about the greatness of this one vicious goblin. Rujark became tense too. The attention paid to her was not welcome. If her secret was discovered, she was certain to be killed. And while Rujark continued with her life and war, her brother Givlikk worked an evil plan. I'll tell you what that plan was next time, Adventurer. I want to put it into verse first!'

Barstre Songweaver says 'I created a nice bridge in the song that should make my audience shiver with intrigue! The portion I added to my song was about an evil plan. Givlikk had been negotiating with the goblin nobles about the ownership of Rujark. Each of them wanted the powerful warrior by their side and each believed that if they owned Rujark they would keep their seat of power, and, maybe, ascend to king. It wasn't difficult for Givlikk to secure a high price as all the nobles vied to own Rujark. Givlikk pitted the nobles against each other until the price was so high that Givlikk could have probably bought the throne itself! I have a meeting with Biski Teezlen. He said he had new information for me! Hopefully it is worthy of being included in my great composition.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Hello again Adventurer! Biski Teezlen did have a wonderful story for me. He said that as Givlikk schemed, Rujark continued to master the arts of war. Her tactics were renowned and she was given her own army after a time. Under her leadership, Rujark's crew of fighters was devastating to the orcs. It was Rujark and she alone who brought hope that the goblins may finally keep the orcs at bay and claim the caverns under the spine of the world. And, no, we're not done yet, but I need to write a new song for a lovely young lass I have met. Much like you, she came to listen to my stories about the Rujarkian Hills. She is of such great beauty and kindness that she inspired me to write a song about her. I hope you understand, fair Adventurer.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'We must continue our story! I was talking with Biski Teezlen more and he told me that Givlikk was attempting to sell his sister to the highest bidding noble. As it happened, the nobles bettered him. As Rujark was a male in their eyes, the nobles believed that Rujark was not Givlikk's to sell. In a panic, Givlikk called a meeting of all the nobles, telling them he had a most interesting secret for them to consider. When all were gathered, Givlikk made a last attempt to ensure he would collect money for the trade of his sister. I bet you can guess what happened, hm? Well, you must wait. I must make this part of my song before I forget it all.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Sorry to have ended so abruptly last time, my friend, but my song is better for it! As you most likely surmised, during the meeting of the nobles, Givlikk blurted out that Rujark was female. At first they didn't know what to make of the news. They were not certain Givlikk told the truth. Seeing the true motivations and greed of Rujark's brother, they began to believe him. They did accept that Rujark belonged on the battlefield, but they could not condone a female leading an army to war against the orcs. So, they sent a messenger to tell Rujark the nobles requested her presence. I fear I may need to write two songs to tell this story, my friend.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'My song gets longer and longer the more I talk to my friends in the Wayfarers Brotherhood. I told you that the nobles sent for Rujark after they learned she was female. Well, she appeared before them, in all of her magnificent shining steel armor. The scars of her face left her disfigured enough that no one could really tell her gender. The nobles eyed her carefully and walked around her. With the battles she'd had since the day that Givlikk marked her face, she had suffered more scars in battle, making her gender harder to detect. Then, the nobles confronted her and exposed her lie. They sentenced her to slavery and asked her to relinquish all of her armor, weapons, and told her that her title as a battle master was revoked. Naturally, she resisted. That reminds me, I have to go through my song pages to change some of the rhyme. I will talk to you later though!'

Barstre Songweaver strums his lute and stops to write some words down on a sheet filled with musical notes and lyrics. 'Wonderful to see you back, Adventurer! You must hear this! When Rujark was told she would have to go back to the bottom of the ranks and take orders from males, her response was deadly. She raised her short swords and made quick work of the nobles who died with stunned expressions. They did not have a hope against her skills. The news of her triumph over the nobles spread fast and so did word that she was a female. Speaking of spreading news, it's time for me to start practicing this song and committing it to my memory. I have a few things to add still, however.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Ah, we have come to the big finale of our story! Over all the years Rujark warred against the orcs, she gained a faithful following. It turned out that her prowess in battle far exceeded the perception of her gender. The goblins then began to set rumors on the breeze that Rujark was blessed by both Brell Serilis, the Duke of Below, and Rallos Zek, the god of War. The rumors took hold and she became the leader of the goblins, who referred to her, then and now, as their mother. They believe she brought the goblins to a better place and her knowledge and skill kept the goblins from falling to the orcs for many years. And so, the region where Rujark and the gnomes lived came to be referred to as the Rujarkian Hills. I was going to end my song there, but yet again, someone told me more about Rujark and her fate. Soon, you will hear about that.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Hail Adventurer. Well, the story about Rujark has a bit of a bitter ending which makes it perfect for my song. Over the years that Rujark trained and improved the goblins as the leader in the Rujarkian Hills, her brother Givlikk grew so envious that he became obsessed with ending his sister's life. Givlikk was shamed and punished for trying to sell his sister too. After all, to the goblins, Rujark was very much their divine mother that had been touched by the gods. Rujark kept her brother near to her because she trusted him. Hm, I need to add more notes to this part of the song.'

Barstre Songweaver plays a sad melody on his flute. 'Where was I, Adventurer? Ah yes. Well, one night Givlikk completely lost all of his bonds with reason. As he often did, Givlikk brought Rujark a stein of frothy ale as they ate an evening meal. He had set up the routine some time before, when he started having great fantasies about killing his sister. He watched eagerly as Rujark lifted the stein to her lips and drank. He cackled as she swallowed the poisonous ale he had made. Now, this is where the tale gets a little strange . . . and as sad as it is, this kind of drama makes for a wonderful song.

Barstre Songweaver says 'Songs that end in powerful tragedy are often remembered, Adventurer. The story of Rujark certainly includes that. Right, the poison. When Rujark swallowed the poison, she was not affected as she should have been. There were no violent spasms. She did not bleed from her eyes, ears, or mouth. She just plainly went to sleep. There was one journal that I read that described Rujark's spirit lifting from her body and soaring to another existence. Of course, we can't confirm this, but it sounds wonderful for a song! Anyway, that is how the area got its name, from the mighty Rujark. You'd be best off going to Shumpi Wimahnn. He is a sprightly halfling but he knows a lot about orcs! He's been doing orcish research in Highpass Hold.'

Shumpi Wimahnn says 'Ah yeah, them orcs. Bit on the burly side, aren't they? I'm sure I could take one out. I bet they can barely see me if I run through their legs. What do ya think? Hee hee. Oh, right. Task at hand. You want to know more about those awful Rujarkian orcs, hm? I've done me a bit of sneaking in the Rujarkian Hills. I've learned how they operate and how they set up their ranks. If you come back soon, I'll tell you a wee bit about it. I've gots to run though. Time to eat!'

Shumpi Wimahnn says 'What cheer! You've gone and come back again Adventurer! Blimey, I'm a touch peckish. Anyway, the orcs. Yeah, well, at the very bottom rung of their ladder, you'll see the lowest of the low, aye. Most would think the Rujarkian orcs merciless to the point of madness, but there is a wee bit of practicality in their minds that detests waste. So, criminals are not just tossed into the stewpots like the weak or old, they become cast-off, menial slaves in a group of orcs known as The Broken. Those orcs are composed exclusively of the damned. Frightful, hm? The Broken orcs are mad and spend their useless blood freely, preferring death over a life without a real master. Cripes, I have to find some food to put into me belly.'

Shumpi Wimahnn says 'Back to it, Adventurer. I'm ready! Ya know, even though slavery is the tie that binds orcs of all stations together, there are slaves that provide food and labor to all the orcs. They are controlled by the Steelcrown. And while those nasty Steelcrown can ask the stronger orcs to help find and kill new flesh, the management, control, and use of slaves is their sole domain. They are the most numerous of the Rujarkian orcs and the most commonly encountered by outsiders . . . and they don't usually live very long. Hee hee. I'll be . . . I'm hungry again.'

Shumpi Wimahnn says 'I'm going to have to start carrying food with me, Adventurer. It's dreadful to stand here all day and hear my tummy growl as it does. As I just wrote in a note to Barstre Songweaver, I was able to get a few more tidbits on the Spiritbound orcs in the Rujarkian Hills. They are the healers and teachers amongst the orcs, though an outsider would be hard-pressed to compare the ruthless and brutish rituals of the Spiritbound to the rituals of the outside world. Gifted with mysterious insight, they police the thoughts and actions of their race, turning quickly to righteous judge and deft executioner when the situation calls for it. Hee hee. They are also bloody masters with surgical tools. Whether or not they use them to heal and repair is questionable. I saw tools and blood, but no mended orcs. Naturally, I didn't hang around too long! Alas, I must run, I can barely hear myself think over my grumbling belly!'

Shumpi Wimahnn says 'Thankfully I just ate, fair Adventurer! Not sure you know this yet, but even though the Rujarkian orcs would rather take than trade, one line of their breed, the Captive Coin, has managed to survive through treacherous, but careful, use of wealth. They build quiet trade alliances with outsiders, but still use brute strength and coercion more often than crafty wit to obtain their monies. Still, as far as orcs go, you understand, they are considered clever . . . and fearsome. Speaking of fearsome, I've got myself a raging appetite I must appease. I'll be ready to talk to you later.'

Shumpi Wimahnn says 'The last and final group of orcs I've learned about are the Steelslaves. Ferocious, they are! Born to bleed, these are the greatest warriors of the Rujarkian orcs. Although the other classes have fighters in them, none compares to the innate skill and practiced battle rage that these orcs possess. They are the front line and last defense of the Rujarkian orcs and they are mighty menacing in great numbers, I tell you. I get shivers about it, I do! Well, that's all I have to tell you about the orcs. I'm sure Barstre Songweaver can give you any additional information you may need.'

Barstre Songweaver says 'Have you had your fill of story yet Adventurer? You have spent a lot of time learning about the Rujarkian Hills. And, I can tell by the look in your eye that you know just as much as anyone about the orcs and goblins in those hills. I consider you a master of the story here as much as anyone. I have nothing to tell you, but you can stand by as I sing if you like. Be well, Adventurer. I consider you a great adventurer and good friend. I'd fight with you by my side any day.'

Miragul

Teria Grinntli says 'Can you believe it's true? Miragul's Menagerie has been found. I remember all the stories I heard after I came to Norrath from Luclin, but the ones that really captured my attention were those about Miragul. Even though I enjoyed the mystery around the tales, I couldn't be more thrilled to actually set foot in that world of madness. I will share the stories with you.'

Teria Grinntli purrs as she looks at you with piercing feline eyes. 'It is so wonderful to see you again. I remember hearing that under the tundra of the Frigid Plain there was a network of tunnels and rooms that were known as Miragul's Menagerie. Now that we've found it, it's a far stranger place than the stories suggested. To start at the beginning, I should say that Miragul was once a prominent member of the Council of Erud and was a student of all the schools of magic available there. If you knew that we've got a good starting point to continue our meetings. We'll pick up from there when you return to me.'

Teria Grinntli scratches her arm with her claws. 'Grrrrreetings Adventurer. I don't have all the details, but a long time ago, it became evident that Miragul, a master mage, wizard, and enchanter, was not impressed or challenged by the erudite way of life and betrayed his people. His fascination with learning and power led him to steal some of the most prized artifacts and tomes belonging to the erudites. And he wasn't the only erudite that pursued the art of necromancy. We shall discuss that more later, fine friend.'

Teria Grinntli ears perk as she hears you approach. 'Over time as Miragul studied, he learned the secrets behind immortality. As the story goes, one fateful night long ago within the menagerie, Miragul performed a most unspeakable ritual upon himself. He lay his body down on a slab etched with the most evil collection of runes. That same portion of stone had a dark crimson hue because it was infused with the blood of many victims that were sacrificed for the performance of that one rite. I have other business to attend to for now, but return soon and we shall continue this bizarre tale.'

Teria Grinntli stops grooming her fur. 'A bit cold isn't it, Adventurer? While Miragul was lying down on that magical slab of stone he started to chant quietly, almost a whispering, until the strange hissing of his voice coalesced into the sound of whipping winds. The room grew dark, so dark that it stole all the light from around the slab of stone. But where Miragul lay, there was a sickly red glow. Terrible event, it was. I will tell you more later my friend.'

Teria Grinntli raises a paw as a warm greeting. 'Welcome once more, Adventurer! Again, the rite of immortality performed by Miragul was so extreme that it shook the ground of all of the Frigid Plain. When Miragul's chant for the undead rite reached its peak, his body disintegrated in a strange fashion. First, his flesh peeled back from the muscle, his muscle tore from the bone, and his bones blackened and crumbled to ash. All was quiet for a short time and then a breeze was conjured out of the stillness. Miragul's ashes were caught in an eddy of evil that began to take a new shape -- the shape of a twisted skeleton. Miragul had successfully transformed himself into a lich. But there was a problem. A critical error. Come back soon and I'll tell you more!'

Teria Grinntli says 'I spent some time with a good friend of mine, Ubzial Iyeaql, in the Qeynos Hills. He has the whole story about Miragul and is probably better suited to telling you the whole story. I'm certain he would be pleased to share the tale with you. Take care on your journey, friend.

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'My word, I've been aching to tell the story that was passed along to me in my youth. My parents were so fascinated by Miragul and his deceit, treachery, and madness that I was forced to study and learn it all as a youth. I'm assuming Teria told you about Miragul's transformation into a lich? Well, it's just not that simple. His history is fraught with all kinds of interesting twists and turns, much like his menagerie. Now that we're acquainted, I will tell you more next time we meet.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'It is good to see you return, Adventurer. Many years ago, not long after men first started walking the lands of Norrath, Miragul was born in Erudin after Erud led some wise magic users to the continent of Odus. As Miragul grew to be a formidable master of the arcane arts, he became greatly dissatisfied with the edicts handed down by the Council of Erudin that tried to restrict his study. The suggestion that Miragul and all erudites should focus on one of three magic professions -- a mage, a wizard, or an enchanter -- was preposterous. The idea was very shortsighted and ridiculous in Miragul's mind. It wasn't long before he found others that thought like him and that's when the trouble started. That's all I will tell you for now. I need to do some research for the Wayfarers Brotherhood this day.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Glad to see you are back for more Adventurer. There were a growing number of outcasts in Erudin that studied forbidden tomes brought to the city by spies on Antonica. Miragul discovered the outcasts and learned they studied a fourth discipline of magic he knew nothing of . . . yes, the dark art of necromancy. Always driven by knowledge and learning, Miragul was infatuated by this new magic. However, it wouldn't be long before the interests of the outcasts were discovered by the Council of Erudin. I will tell you more about that later, Adventurer. I have things to do here.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'You are faring well, I hope? Well, the Council of Erudin discovered that the erudite outcasts were practicing necromancy and branded them all heretics. A civil war broke out as a result. It was one of the most fearsome wars in the history of Norrath. There were no swords or armor, they used only magic. The destruction unleashed by the power of the magic changed the face of Odus. Erudites fell in massive numbers and much of the pristine architecture of Erudin was lost. After some time, the heretics discovered they did not have the numbers to sustain the battle and fled, hiding in the southern region of Odus. They made a new home for themselves, which I'll discuss more soon, friend.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'On with the story then. The heretics found themselves a new home on Odus, but Miragul did not travel with them. Seeing the potential to lose access to the great libraries and wisdom of Erudin, Miragul abandoned the heretics and appeared to support the Council of Erudin. It's interesting how Miragul managed to deceive so many. I'll tell you that secret when we meet again. There were some items recovered from the menagerie that I must study.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Ah, yes. You want to know how Miragul managed to deceive the erudites and heretics. You see, having studied the art of enchantment as well as the other magic professions, Miragul was very adept at disguising his identity with powerful illusions. He created three distinct identities for himself that allowed him to study in all the schools of magic in Erudin. He also created a fourth identity that allowed him to study with the heretics. His identity as Miragul remained a close ally of the Council in Erudin. In doing this, he kept abreast of all the business and rumor within the city. He was also able to stay in Erudin without suspicion. You must understand that he still really was not an ally to the council. See me soon and I'll explain why, Adventurer. I am quite busy with my studies these days. So much to learn!'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'I've certainly had a lot of visitor's Adventurer. I am happy to see a familiar face. As it turned out, Miragul remained disgusted by the Council of Erudin. He managed to absorb most of the knowledge that Erudin offered while he schemed. In a short time, Miragul managed to steal and stash away the most powerful tomes and artifacts in Erudin. His plan to take all the treasured tomes and artifacts from Erudin worked. He left Odus for Antonica on a boat with his cache of items of knowledge. There is still much to tell, Adventurer, but it must wait. Yet again, I must do more research into these strange things we're finding in the menagerie.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Let's do this quickly, shall we? When Miragul reached Qeynos in Antonica, it was very unpleasant for him. He was constantly dodging erudite spies, so he found it increasingly difficult to hide, so he left the city. He traveled for a very long time and finally reached a well-secluded area called Winter's Deep. He settled for some time there, pouring over all the items he had stolen from Erudin and various places in his travels. He improved his knowledge and skill with magic so much so that he became very powerful. It took very little time before Miragul neared the end of his stash of learning materials. He grew restless. Sorry to interrupt, but Kizpi Taelwx wants me to help him learn some of the world's languages. I will see you again to discuss more, will I not?'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Hail Adventurer. I believe we ended with Miragul finishing his stay in Winter's Deep. From there Miragul traveled south to attain more knowledge of the arcane arts. It did not take him too long to run into Rivervale, the halfling city. The propensity of the halflings to sneak around and steal worried him, so Miragul moved on. Let's talk more about his travels at another time. I have to scribe a spell before I forget the incantation.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Mm-hm, more about Miragul's travels through the lands. After his experience with the halflings, Miragul chose to find lands that were devoid of almost all intelligent life and thieves. He made his way north and found himself in the Frigid Plains. I believe you know that already? This was the beginning of Miragul's isolation. I will have more for you when you return though, dear friend.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Hail, Adventurer. Always good to see you. Well, when Miragul reached the Frigid Plains the construction of the menagerie began. In the solitary and cold environment, Miragul founded his own paradise. He used magic to move the ice and earth to create a vast number of tunnels, rooms, libraries, and laboratories that stretched out like tendrils under the frozen ground above. But he would always make time to study magic and familiarize himself with all the artifacts and books he'd stolen. And then he started losing his sanity, which we will delve into later. I'm much too tired to continue. I've done nothing but read for days!'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'I have been so busy talking, Adventurer, that I've had no time to do research! Seeing as how I'm partial to you, I will take the time to continue the story. Miragul built fantastic laboratories where he experimented with all the magic he learned. He also practiced on the living, particularly creatures found in the Frigid Planes. You sometimes will see the results within the menagerie now. But, that's getting a little ahead of our story. For many years, thousands in fact, Miragul continued increasing his knowledge and power until he realized that his body was finally failing. He was becoming very old. Let's wait to continue this, Adventurer. I have to talk business with my friend Mannis McGuyett.'

Ubzial Iyeaql says 'Nice to see you, Adventurer. I'm afraid that Morden Rasp, my leader, needs me to devote my attention to another task. It seems there is a strange ore about that we've never seen before coming from some of these lost dungeons we have discovered. I have sent word to Teria Grinntli in Everfrost. She is more than capable of taking the story from here, my friend. Take care of yourself, particularly when you enter the menagerie. Its wonders can quickly become terrors.'

Teria Grinntli purrs as she her gaze rests upon you. 'So nice to see you again, Adventurer. It certainly has been a long time! I understand that Ubzial got as far as Miragul's fear of death? Right. When Miragul started considering the end of his life, he fixed on not being able to learn and see new magic and artifacts. He then turned his pursuit of knowledge toward existential and planar concerns. He read accounts and folklore around the planes of Power and Discord. Then, he found ways to access those planes and created portals for them. Hm, I need to talk to Kipler Steffeal. I've forgotten a few details. Come back and we'll discuss this further!'

Teria Grinntli growls lightly as she examines the pads of her paws. 'My paws are numb, Adventurer. It is truly cold here. I did talk to Kipler and he has filled in some details for me. Shortly after creating the portals to the planes of Power and Discord, Miragul's body began to fail him. His frailty terrified him. He became absorbed in the art of necromancy and looked for clues that would allow him to cheat death. He was not successful. That's all I can tell you for now, Adventurer. I need to get more information myself.'

Teria Grinntli stretches the length of her graceful feline body. 'Ah! You caught me after a nap! Very well, let's continue. Miragul realized he would have to leave the menagerie to gain more knowledge to overcome the finality of death. He used his knowledge to create portals within Norrath and with what little energy he had, he searched for the necromancers on Odus. He found them in a city they called Paineel and lived among them as he studied. Then he found it . . . magic that could turn the living into the undead, a state where a body lives on and never ages. It is a shame Adventurer, but it's time for me to go. I have to hunt for food for our party. I will have more to enlighten you shortly.'

Teria Grinntli has her nose raised to the air and detects your scent. 'Ah, Adventurer! I knew it was you! I was thinking of you recently and your interest in Miragul's Menagerie. I remember my mother telling me that Miragul was in Paineel gathering knowledge on how to make him undead while the heretics around him readied for another war with Erudin. When Miragul believed he had attained enough knowledge, he returned to his menagerie and hid himself in a special laboratory. And that's when he performed that rite I told you about when we first met. But, as I said then, it didn't have the effect he had hoped for. I must be off now, dear Adventurer. I need to go visit Ubzial Iyeaql about some items the Wayfarers Brotherhood recovered from the menagerie.'

Teria Grinntli shivers slightly in the cold. 'We just got back from a hunt and my tail is freezing! We are well stocked with food now, though. Now, in the story about Miragul, we were at the transformation of the magic-user into a lich. Well, that part worked, he did indeed become a lich, but something terrible happened to him. He made a grave miscalculation. The lich of Miragul retained most of his mystical powers, but Miragul's soul was lost. I will be able to explain this better next time. I have to do a bit of research for the next part of the tale.'

Teria Grinntli finishes a conversation with Gizula and turns to you. 'My friend, Adventurer! I found the information for you. After Miragul became a lich, his spirit, the internal voice that drove him to seek knowledge and power, was trapped in a small box, called a phylactery, in the menagerie. The lich, without a spirit, had no traits of the man known as Miragul. His lich wandered aimlessly about the menagerie and then found its way to Everfrost where it has been marching around pathetically and without purpose for many years. But something has changed within the lich recently. We will discuss that later. I need to gather more information on that part of the story.'

Teria Grinntli wags her tail, clearly agitated. 'I'm somewhat irritated at the moment, Adventurer. Gizula ate all the stew and now I have to go hungry out in this cold! Petty concern, really, but still . . . Anyway, the lich of Miragul has been heard whispering on the wind lately. The discovery of the menagerie has released some of the strange magic that exists there. The lich can sense it and some say he's been touched by it. I will try to learn more about that. Next time, though, I'll tell you more about the menagerie.'

Teria Grinntli expertly polishes her fangs with her tongue. 'Gizula made up for her gluttony. She made us a fine-tasting meal. I dare not ask what was in it, but I am satisfied! We are still a little hazy on what exactly is happening in Miragul's Menagerie, but it seems as though not only his spirit was locked in there. When he turned himself into a lich, there was a rift in his magic, so that some of it was left over. That magic has somehow grown over time and I believe it carries some kind of sentience. I need to do some investigating in the menagerie and then I will be able to tell you more.'

Teria Grinntli blinks lazily, clearly tired. 'It has been a long day, dear Adventurer. I have been spending a lot of time in the menagerie trying to ascertain what is happening there. From what we've been able to piece together, that remaining magic left in the menagerie has indeed developed over time. With all of the strange magic and experiments that Miragul performed, there was often some magic left behind. The sentient magical force that formed and grew because of the rite that transformed Miragul into a lich has managed to travel in the walls and on the air collecting all of the remaining magic. We are calling this sentient force the Synarcana of Miragul. Strange thing. I need more information before I can tell you more about it.'

Teria Grinntli waves at you with a mighty paw. 'I'm so thrilled you are back, Adventurer. It does get lonely here at times. So, the Synarcana of Miragul is indeed sentient and very protective of the menagerie. After all, it is the magical force that maintains and protects the integrity of that bizarre place. It has even created or taken over creatures to serve its will. The Synarcana of Miragul has developed some of Miragul's former traits and is attempting to draw knowledge of magic out of all of the adventurers that enter. So, be careful when you enter that place. I will see you after you spend more time there. Hopefully I will have more information for you by then.'

Teria Grinntli bows to you. 'Alas, Adventurer. It seems we're both on the same footing with our knowledge about the madness in Miragul's Menagerie. It has been most satisfying taking this journey with you. I hope as you learn more you will share it with all of us in the Wayfarers Brotherhood. I salute you!'

Morden Rasp

It's time to acknowledge you as a Wayfarer. Give Morden your Adventurer Stone and he'll replace it with one of his own. Or, if it's being used in a charm, you must remove it to get your new one. And, if you simply destroy the stone, he will replace it with your much-deserved emblem. Just tell him you want your [emblem].

Morden Rasp says 'I heard you had become knowledgable about all aspects of the dungeons we've found. I must confess that I never had you pegged for such a great adventurer! I suppose I should welcome you -- as a member of the Wayfarers Brotherhood. The honor is well deserved. Congratulations!'

Morden Rasp says 'Here is a token of my appreciation. Should you lose your Wayfarers Brotherhood Emblem or misplace it, I or Barstre, Selephra, Ruanya, Teria, or Vual will replace it.'