Gorlen Blackhammer - Journal Entry, #212

[halfgiant]

Over the last few months, I have spent a lot of time on the lost coast, pouring over the tomes I discovered in the Library of Arcanum. But today, something got my magic senses tingling. So I decided to take a walk about and see if I can explore more of this region, taking a little break from my download of this library.

After flying around few days mapping a new area of this continent, I stumbled across an unusual mountain village called Kurdarim, high up along the spine of the Ashrock Peaks, nested in a Caringe Vale near a lake the locals refer to as Dragonfly Lake. I think this region falls within the Duiral Kingdom but from the looks of the village the recent politics down below have left this village untouched. What’s interesting about this town, is from the looks of it there is a large mix of goliaths, dwarves, and humans working throughout the village, and in the nearby mines, with the occasional emergence of an odd race here and there. While uncommon, I don’t think many in this city will raise an eyebrow of a gnome walking about town.

After a few hours of piddling about town, this town is governed by an alliance across 3 merchant houses all three seem to run caravans in and out of this town almost every day, along the main vein of the town is lined with alehouses, and brothels for the caravan workers, miners, crafters, and tradesman that work the various goods produced in this town. Overall, the village is a sooty, sullen place prone to unpleasant bursts of violence and passion, with bar fights being an almost nightly occurrence.

After some time, I arrived at the Charging Mammoth, one of the seedier taprooms, in an attempt to parch an old gnome’s thirst with some ale. Sadly, there was no Mana Wine on the menu, but then I did find a ForgeFire Hard Cider here which is very tasty, very strong. While drinking this Cider I discovered a sour apple start, with notes of ginger and nutmeg, but hidden beneath that, is the tiniest taste of manacite. That must be why when I drank it, I warmed up from the cold quickly, and received a second wind almost like coming off a nap. I suspect the merchant houses have the brewers spike the drinks to keep the workers at peak production. Sneaky merchants, but alas just a theory, ‘sigh’, the things I must do for knowledge. In order to prove my hypothesis, I will have to try every drink on the menu, across all the establishments in town.

As the night progresses, the gnome manages to gather a parade of locals traveling from one alehouse, to the next, buying round after round for his knew found friends only for the price of a good story about the town (somewhere across the Mulitverse, a Rolandite tosses and turns in her sleep). Throughout the night he hears all sorts of stories of area illegal slave operations, orcs and various goblinoid warbands, and of recent undead emerging from what was thought to be an empty mithril mine about 50 miles from town, across the lake.

Of course, by morning Gorlen finds himself sleeping in the bar beneath a table, and all his newfound friends gone. As he stumbles out of the bar, he makes his way to find breakfast starting to pick up flashes of different stories the town had told him, beginning to defrag his memory of total recall and reassemble last night’s activities.

After a hour or two, of organizing the puzzle pieces of what was last night, Gorlen remembered that once he got some of the town folk drunk they switched their story to the mine not being emptied or mined out, it was abandoned after the miners discovered a great monolith to an alien god. Eventually at some point, a sage from a local nearby school of magic heard these rumors and traveled to Dragonfly Lake, to see first-hand this monolith. Shortly after reaching the monolith chamber the sage discovered symbols found near the site the miners had discarded, not knowing what they said the miners just returned to the surface and abandoned the mine.

It was said the sage went mad with mysterious visions after reading the symbols. Visions of massive metal plates foretelling the collapse of civilization. A prophesy that spoke to violent upheaval and chaos, and the return of a long-dead race called the spell weavers.

Nobody has ventured near its entrance anymore, probably for over 500 years, as there are several dark stories tied to a necromancer, and undead that can be heard thru the tunnels. However, recently in the last month according to Leric a local Dwarf, a Laputan adventuring party loaded for bear, passed thru town headed there, but none of them said what they are looking for, and none have returned since.

Remembering something Gorlen digs around his pocket, there it is … I was talking to a rogue name Reza, Riza, something like that. And she gave me a picture of something she was able to pickpocket off of one of the Laputan’s. She did overhear them say the Sage’s name that went mad from before apparently drawing this image over and over again before dying of madness in his chamber. Let see, this is it –

Well, that’s it for now, looks like I have to get the village drunk again tonight, their manacite tastes different the V’Ral’s manacite, going to have to find out where they get it so I can investigate. Maybe I’ll stroll over and check out the various forgers in town see if there is anything interesting being made.

Ohh yeah, i was suppose to test something last night, a theory i had, can’t remember what that was… hmm it will come to me.

-Gorlen