The Adventures of Asjhic R'wati Maratha

Part 1- To The Forgotten City

Gahmil 3rd, 1506TH

I'm bound to the West, to visit some friends at Kaer Eidolon. I hope to find some shelter there, for I cannot directly confront the aropagoniya of House Syrtis… yet. May the river take me there safel.

Gahmil 10th, 1506TH

It has been a while since I've left the Cliff City at Lalai gorge, and I won't feast my eyes upon it for quite a while more, I'm afraid. The rumors that follow of a rebel faction being uncovered in the City followed me here, but fortunately my name was not amongst those still wanted by the guard. Were they to come here looking for me, I'd give them a taste of my blade! And I do wish they would – I'm getting itchy all over without a decent fight. And those elves are such an unfriendly lot, even though I must say their wine is simply ex-qui-sit!

Gahmil 21st, 1506TH

Things have been so boring lately around here, that I wish I could just jump into the Shivoam and drown myself! No excitement, no fun, nothing! At least I've met an old friend today, who's going on a journey downriver, to Throal I reckon. His Name's J'namul, if my memory serves me right – we used to sail among the Maratha nialls some time together back in the old days. I think I'll be joining him on his voyage – anything to get out of this fortified coffin!

Gahmil 22nd, 1506TH

We have taken sail today from Eidolon downstream. J'namul's ship, 'The Fourth Tail' is a fine vessel indeed, and with a jolly crew to boot. One is Named Kes, and if she hasn't the loveliest pair of blue-black crest-tips I've seen this side of the Throal mountains, hang me by my tail! We've spent some time together, and I think she fancies me. Then again, who wouldn't? Even J'namul's human friend, a warrior of some renown by the Name of Ilfarian, thinks greatly of me. He told me of his adventures in The Forgotten City of Parlainth, battling Horrors and their minions, and recovering powerful magical treasures and helpless victims from their vile clutches. This all makes my blood dance in its veins… I long so for the taste of valiant battle! He said he's heading there again, and I believe I'd be joining him. I'm afraid that Kes wouldn't want to hear of it, but if I were to please every charming lady I met, my tail would've withered away many a winter ago.

Gahmil 24th, 1506TH

The first mate had found a stowaway on board, some young dwarf dressed in weird clothes. J'namul wanted him to pay for passage -- hah! – had he the twenty silver needed, would he be hiding, or even wearing these filthy clothes? It looked like he'd been sleeping in the mud near the river for several nights, and when they were about to throw him overboard, I took pity on him. I told J'namul that the entire affair was all a wager, a joke, and paid him the silver on the spot. He always knew how to take a joke, and brought out some good dwarven ale for the occasion.

The dwarf's Name is Vor, and he hails from a village south of Eidolon. He ran away from home, no doubt to seek fame and fortune in the most valiant way possible. We've fixed some decent clothes for the poor fellow nobody must perform heroic deeds looking like he did

Gahmil 26th, 1506TH

J'namul was quite irritated when we neared a place on the river called Madman's Dock. Apparently, the caravan he'd been waiting for with the merchandise, headed for Throal, hadn't arrived there. But Ilfarian, Vor and me had our own agenda, and we went ashore, on the road to the glory and riches of Parlainth. Kes was all tears, but she knew that the call of my jik'harra pulls stronger than any lovely tail, even if it has such a perfect body, and a gorgeous face attached to it, and even if.. errmm.. nevermind, I just knew I must be heading to adventure! Yeah! That's right! Adventure!!!

Raquas 3rd, 1506TH

We've been travelling through the wilderness for the past week, without anything interesting happening. Vor just can't hear enough of my exploits, and Ilfarian contributes his share of stories as well. He showed me his magical sword the other day – a finely crafted two-handed Named 'Whiteblaze' which he wields with magnificent grace, even for a warrior. In his hands I have seen it cut through a wood ten inches thick, and burn the place it had cut to charcoal! Vor was impressed as well, though I believe he is not quite as good with weapons. I gave him a dagger to defend himself, and he carries his share of the load stoically.

Raquas 11th, 1506TH

We came upon several villages in our way, but none were too hospitable. Some wouldn't accept anything from us, and we cautiously sidestepped them. Some were more willing to trade, and we replenished our supplies, though none would let us enter the village premises. It seems that the countryside is full with bandits and wandering monstrosities that strike fear into the hearts of the locals. I'm just itching to find some of those rascals and give them a taste of my steel! I'm even more itching to find a spring or a bath and a taste of good wine and fish.

Raquas 12th, 1506TH

What a glorious day!Today we set foot in the most hospitable settlement I've ever been to! (And pardon me, my t'skrang brethren.) The Name of this joyful village is Yellowspring, and I do recommend it to any adventuring Adept, for there he shall find folk that appreciate true greatness and do not treat you like you were the Moss Plague incarnate. The leader of these fine people, an elderly ork Named Rhamduc, was most kind and polite, and his men were extremely friendly to us, to the point of holding a feast in our honor. Ilfarian and Vor even seem to be luckier than me – I am sure they won't be sleeping alone tonight… if at all

Vor woke me up in the middle of the night, agitated. He insisted that the people in the village behave in a strange way, glancing out of the windows into the darkness all the time, as if they're waiting for something to happen, or maybe afraid? We've heard rumors of the bandits in the area – of course these timid folk were too shy or to proud to ask our aid – and decided to investigate on our own. We've snuck outside into the dark of night, and made our way towards the northern fence. We were not a second late, for the village was being attacked! A few dozen men, unhorsed, were charging the hamlet, hacking everything apart and setting fire to the wooden houses. Vor charged one of the villains and threw him into the well, while I fended off an armed elf and a trio of human arsonists. Inspired by our brave examples, the villagers mounted a counterattack, and together we drove the culprits out of the village premises.

Rhamduc, however, was not quite satisfied with the outcome. He mounted his riding horse, and rallied the men to follow the others and attack their village, Cherrypit. When we have heard that these "bandits" are simply the denizens of a neighbouring village, we have decided to stop the imminent bloodshed. Riding with Ilfarian and Vor, we three placed ourselves between the two groups. Though one-on-one, not even the strongest of the villagers was a match for one of us, we were still practically surrounded by over fifty armed men, with their eyes shining in the light of the torches like the flames of Death's Sea itself. The rock and the hard place advanced one upon the other, so intent on slaughter that there was nothing we could do to stop them.

Almost nothing, that is. A violent, bloodcurling scream erupted from my mouth and both the crowd and my companions gazed in astonishment. Now that I had their undivided attention, I proceeded (with considerable help from the resourceful Vor) to delve to the heart of this matter. It turns out that it was a petty dispute over a piece of land a few miles away, which changed hands in the most curious way between the two parties. After some heavy bickering and bad-mouthing which I shall not repeat here, the two parties agreed to our proposal to settle the matter in a champion challenge to near-death, with me being the judge of the duel. A few minutes later it was all over, as Rhamduc's own son lay unconscious on the night soil. The victorious people of Cherrypit got three-quarters of the land in ques, and the dwellers of Yellowspring were to be content with but one-quarter of it. After my suggestion, Rhamduc and the human village elder of Cherrypit swore a blood oath not to violate the terms of this agreement, nor to provoke any other act of agression each upon the other. Though Rhamduc's wife confessed to me that she is glad to have her son alive, and that we did the right thing, Rhamduc himself was not that tolerant to our further presence, and we quickly gathered our gear and left Yellowspring on the morning of the next day.

Raquas 17th, 1506TH

We were traveling near a verdant forest today, whe the most dreadful thing had happened. Out of the woods came an ugly, drooling creature which made the sloshing sounds of a wet mop as it advanced slowly upon us. Ilfarian seemed worried, and rightly so. We attacked the thing, trying to chase it away with blows, perhaps even slay it, but we could barely wound it! Vor tried to wrap its head in a sack, but the thing's eyes just oozed to its abdomen and he continued to drag itself towards Ilfarian. My blade bounced off its resilient hide, and even Ilfarian's burning blade could only nick it a tiny bit! Suddenly, the monster jumped amazingly quickly into the tall grass and disappeared from sight. As Ilfarian was looking nervously around, he suggested that he won't make it to Parlainth. I dismissed his words, but he insisted that I take a certain pouch to his sister, who should be there. When I wanted to ask him for her Name, the huge form of the monster jumped at him from somewhere in the trees above, and swallowed him whole!!! Only his sword-arm, Whiteblaze still in its grasp, dropped to the ground, out of the creature's huge maw, which closed like a deathtrap over the poor warrior. We saw him struggling inside, and we hit the horrible swamp-thing with all our might, but nothing seemed to harm it... Finally, it walked away slowly, carrying the dying Ilfarian inside his awful green stomach which none of us could pierce. Despairing, we buried the courageous man's remains in the forest glade, and set a weary step eastwards, our minds aching and our hearts heavy with grief. Amatla Shivoam Gana'i, o brave warrior! Thy heroic deeds shall never be forgotten!

Here lies a brave soul
His eyes as clear as morning dew upon the grass
His friendship as deep as the riverbed
His heart as wide as the Aras Sea
His strength was in his deeds
His blade was keen
His word was true
Here lies a free soul

Raquas 22nd, 1506TH

Almost a week's walk from Ilfarian's grave, we have reached the hill overlooking a vast ruin. This must be Parlainth, for it stretched out under us in all of its former glory and present decay. Tiny specks of black were scurrying to and fro among its vine-draped ruins, too small to identify from such a distance, but nevertheless foreboding and menacing. Who knows what dangers lurk in these dark alleys? What forgotten treasures await their new owner? What new stories shall be told in the warmth of a fire on a cold winter night? We are bound to a place called Haven, a small settlement near the southeastern wall of that colossal wreckage which used to be the capital of pre-Scourge Barsaive. The sun slowly sets behind us as we tread the narrow road that leads us to it, our shadows already ahead of us, basking in the welcoming glow of its lights. May we find our future there!