Candlekeep Public Collection Reference

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The Rise and Fall of Netheril
by Noromical Kinsara

Netheril; the First Great Human Empire, once seated in what is now the Anauroch Desert. Often thought as a legend among the people of Faerun, can be hard to imagine at first glance. Massive cities, floating through the sky, over lush plains filled with wild magic. Now, little more than sand-covered ruins amidst the dunes of the Anauroch Deser. The history of this kingdom, is very much akin to the tale of the hero who flew too close to the sun, and had his wings burnt off. It seems no matter how far we as mortal rise, it is we, not the gods, who remind us of our place in the world.
Almost four thousand years before Dale Reckoning, in the land now known as the Anauroch Desert, there was once fertile, green grassland and bountiful rivers. Seemingly the ideal locale for a farming village. Founded by the Elder Neth, a farming village did form, and soon, many more like it appeared within the Plains of Anauroch. As with any small village, there was often the threat of raids from the less civilized groups, such as bandits and orcs.
To better protect themselves, these villages banded together, officially, under the banner of Netheril. In deference to the founding Elder, Neth. As with all human kingdoms, the banding together led to many advancements, and soon a proper kingdom was established. Seeing the rise of this fledgling kingdom, the Sun Elves soon came, and began teaching the people of Netheril, to harness magic. It didn't take long for the people of Netheril to rise to a power to rival even the modern day Amnian kingdom.
Still three and a half thousand years before Dale Reckoning, a human by the name of Finder, discovered the Nether Scrolls, and brought the power within these artifacts to the kingdom of Netheril. While the Sun Elves of Aryvandaar had refused to use this knowledge while they possessed the scrolls, the Netherese possessed no such barrings on their practices. With the knowledge contained within the Nether Scrolls, the kingdom rose to even greater heights. A new class of human magician arose, known as Arcanists. With their newfound power, the Arcanists began raising mountains from the earth and overturning them, creating massive floating islands, and new, fertile lands on which to farm. It was this advent that marked the Golden Age of Netheril. Building their cities atop these islands, they began to construct powerful artifacts called Mythallar. These enormous crystals, could supply the magic to maintain incredible artifacts. With this might, Netheril became a true empire.
Unfortunately, this golden age could not last. An Arcanist of immense skill, by the name of Karsus, rose to be the greatest archmage Netheril had ever seen, and set his sights long past being The Archmage. He devised a powerful ritual, the secrets of which have long since been lost to time. This ritual sought to steal the power of the Goddess Mystryl; Governor of the Weave. As he enacted his ritual and bound his life force to the Goddess, Mystryl saw into his heart and mind, and decreed Karsus was far from fit or able to manage the Weave the way only a Deity could. She warned him, time and time again, but to no avail. With no other option, she tool the ultimate sacrifice, and severed their connection, killing the two in the process. It was in this moment, that thousands of years, came crashing to the ground. With no deity to manage the ebb and flow of the Weave, magic could not function. Without magic, the Conclave Islands of the Netherese began to fall from the sky. It was in these moments, that the power of Mystryl, found a new host, one who was worthy of managing the entire force of magic. Her name, is Mystra. To this day, Mystra manages the Weave, and has put limits on the capacity of many magics. For what was once done should never be repeated.

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Seasons of the Heart
A poem by Iris Sorin

Iris Sorin, originally from Cormyr and then moved to Waterdeep to further her career as a performing musician. She spent a number of years in Baldur's Gate as an adventurer, drawing from those experiences to fuel her passions for song and lyrics.

SEASONS OF THE HEART

Rising from the depth of slumber,
Greeting the light that shines with hope.
Beckoned and urged to life from the dark.
Subtle is warmth of possible promise;
seductive and hungry.

Grasping hold of burning heat that fills
the soul with purpose.
Striving to make each emblazoned
memory steadfast in time.
The sun and moon shine brightly,
Coloring the flavor of the dream.
Whispers and passions, known and new,
thrill the mind and body.

Enveloped in the warmth of glorious days now past,
The pristine gives way to comfort from a coldness that edges in.
Illusions stripped away are scattered by
winds of fate, leaving tenderness exposed,
Remaining is the naked core; its surface
scarred by history.

Now revealing the true self, lament descends with tears.
Frozen, they shatter and blanket the landscape.
Covering vibrant thoughts, as the retreat from the frigid truth ensues.
Sleeping wounded in the darkness, a humble spirit awaits the dawn again.

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Selune
by Rania Marie Ragnon

Selune is many things. She is the Mother, the Lady of Silver, the Moonmaiden, and the Lady of Mysteries.

In the beginning

She was created from the primordial essence of the universe, along with her twin sister Shar (The Lady of Loss, The Night Singer). Together, the two created Chauntea, the Earth Mother, who is believed to be the embodiment of the world Abeir-Toril. The two sisters created universes and within these universes lifeforms of all sorts.

For a time, the two sisters worked side by side, creating much beauty and many marvels of life. Sadly, however, they found themselves at odds on how these creations would be ruled and treated, and the two sisters ended up engaged in battle against the other.

Through this conflict the creation of the original deity of magic (Mystryl), disease (Talona), murder (Bhaal), and many more occurred.

Selune the Woman

Selune's entire being is one of love, compassion, and mercy. While she is often seen as calm and placid, there is a sense of quiet sorrow within her. When engaged in battle with her now arch-nemesis twin sister, however, she is a most fierce and terrifying warrior. At other times, Selune is a joyful dancer, out amongt the moonbeams and glowing with majestic radiance. Chaotic and never predictable, Selune, like the moon, often changes her appearance, the most common being the maiden, the matron, and the crone.

Dogma

"Let all on whom Selune's light falls be welcome if they desire. As the silver moon waxes and wanes, so too does life. Trust in Selune's radiance and know that all love alive in Her light shall know Her blessing. Turn to the moon and She will be your true guide. Promote acceptance and tolerance. See all other beings as equals. Aid fellow Selunites as if they were your dearest friends."

Tolerance and acceptance is what the heart of her dogma is, as well as never ending love. Those commonly found to follow the Moonmaiden include: navigators, adventurers, non-evil lycanthropes, sailors, female spell casters, astrologers and fortune tellers.

Clergy

Clergy of Selune pray for their spells at night and always facing the direction of the moon when it is visible. Females tend to be found more as clergy than males, and it is for this reason many of the church's rituals honor women's roles as teacher, role model, and mother both in society and in the home.

Being that the moon is believed to exert a subtle influence upon the natural cycles of a woman's body, female clergy conduct morning ceremonies so that she might be fully open to visions, insights and intuitions her goddess may send.

With motherhood being a large factor in the Selune faith, milk is used in many rituals and ceremonies due to it being a symbol of motherhood and the sustaining power of the feminine.

Ceremonies

The Conjuring of the Second Moon is done during Shieldmeet, and is a coordinated chant at every temple of Selune, which draws down the Shards. Shards are blue haired female planetars, chosen personally by Selune from her female clergy for the honor of serving Her directly. For that single night, the Shards will battle the forces of Shar, and on the following dawn, will depart though first elevating one mortal cleric to their order.

The Mystery of the Night must be performed once every year by each cleric of Selune. During this ritual, the clerics enter a deep trance and fly high into the air to commune directly with the Moonmaiden. During this time, Selune may grant any request or provide specific aid to the clerics, as well as give a gentle guiding touch if the cleric is in need of one.

Temples

Selune temples are wide in variety as are her worshippers. Anything from an open place in a field to an open topped temple to a mansion might be used to pay Her homage. Commonly found factors in all are small gardens, reflecting ponds and feminine zymology.

Orders

Silverstars are Selune cleric who dedicate themselves to protecting and aiding the vulnerable. They are dedicated advocates of freedom and tolerance, wanderers on the path of truth and absolute foes of Shar.

Oracles of the Moons are a group of female diviners and fortunetellers who worship Selune (often called the Night White Lady).

Pact of the New Moon consists solely of lycanthropes sworn to Selune, carrying out the most secretive and violent aspects of Selune's work. Selune grants these lycanthropes abilities other lycanthropes lack, such as the ability to speak in wolf form, also allowing her followers to invoke prayers and cast spells, rapid shapeshifting and increased strenght.

One order of fanatic Selunites is known as the Swords of the Lady, who are often referred to colloquially as the "Lunatics". Its members are led by a few Selunite crusaders who tend to act rapidly in response to threats from Shar and her priesthood, although their behavior is often viewed as bizarre by the public at large.

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Selune Prayers and Reflections
by Rania Marie Ragnon

Prayer for Guidance

Silver Lady nestling in the midnight sky
Shine your ageless wisdom upon our souls.
Guide us and nourish our spirits with your mysteries
So that we may flourish and grow under your beauty.
Oh goddess of light, teach us the truths we so desire
And let us bathe in your silver aura.
Cleanse our bodies in your purifying light
And uplift our minds with your magic and majesty.
So shall we honor you with our hearts
And forever follow your illuminated path
To the center of our souls.


Prayer of Thanksgiving

I thank you, Moonmaiden
For giving me your strength
For blessing me with your protection
For blessing me with wisdom to guide my friends
And wisdom you've given them to guide me
And for the peace you've bestowed throughout the day
Warming me and comforting me wherever I go
I thank you, my Mother
For filling my belly with fruit from your fertile soil
For blessing me with the joy of your acceptance and purpose
And for my loving family who walk with me.
And for the tranquility of night
As your Moon's beam illuminates my path


Prayer of Humility

O Lady
as I walk your road of love and acceptance,
strip from me those things that hinder my steps.
Strip from me my vanity,
my concern for the regard, lust, and admiration of others.
Strip from me my arrogance,
my assurance that I know best for myself and others.
Strip from me my pride,
in my body, my face, my youth, and my beauty.
Strip from me my reliance on my intellect,
my wit and my words.
Strip from me my judgement other others;
I do not know the story of their path.
Strip from me my wastefulness
when I take abundance, health, family and friends for granted.
Strip from me my impatience and irritation.
Strip from me all things I cannot cast off myself.
Wash me anew in your silvery light.
Cleanse me of all my past negativity
and leave me purified with your divine grace.


The Serenity Prayer

Lady of Silver, my Mother, grant me:

The power of Water, to accept with ease and grace what I cannot change.

The power of Fire, for the energy and courage to change the things I can.

The power of Air, for the ability to know the difference.

And the power of Earth, for the strength to continue my path.


Prayer for Protection

Mother Goddess, jewel of night,
Lady Moon arise tonight.

Protect me in this sacred rite,
perform to honor your glorious light.

Your silvery light graces the land,
shining fair on the sea and sand.

Light among the heavens grand,
is everchanging in your hand.

Fair be the light on the forest and fields
fair be the light upon the hill.

Fair be the light that over me spills,
for fair are deeds thy light reveals.

Blessed maiden, mother, crone
I honor your earth I walk upon.

Ever mindful of ones before me gone
I know I never walk alone.

Mother of guidance, bringer of light,
protect me in this darkest night.


The Mother's Prayer

The Lady of Silver is my mother, I shall not want.
She nurtures me in green pastures;
she freshens me with flowing waters.
She restores my body and awakens my soul.
Although I walk in the shadow
of changing season and passing time,
I will not fear death,
for the essence of life is within me,
the peace of beauty of the moon comfort me.
She teaches me to harvest her abundant gifts,
she fills my heart with compassion.
I drink from the cup of simple pleasures.
As I look to the skies with wonder
at the immensity of the universe,
I know I am blessed beyond measure
to live all the days of my life
in the bountiful house of Selune.


On Noticing the Goddess

The little child whispered,
"Goddess, speak to me"
and a meadowlark sang,
but the child did not hear.

So the child yelled,
"Goddess, speak to me!"
and the thunder rolled across the sky
but the child did not listen.

The child looked around and said,
"Lady of Silver, let me see you"
and a star shone brightly.
But the child did not notice.

And the child shouted,
"Goddess, show me a miracle!"
and a life was born.
But the child did not know.

So the child cried out in despair,
"Touch me, my Mother, and let me know you are there!"
Whereupon the Moonmaiden reached down
and touched the child.
But the child brushed the butterfly away
and walked away unknowingly.

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Siege Engine Construction
by Anonymous

The book looks like it is a collection of material from multiple sources that has been simplified by removing everything that has been deemed unnecessary. It is written in plain language without any embellishments.

It may occur to you that the author, perhaps, had a lot of experience using those devices in practice.

Contents:
1. Materials, tools.
2. Siege engines.
2.2. Trebuschet.
2.3 Catapult.
2.4 Ballista
2.5 Mobile shield
2.6 Ram
2.7 Siege tower.
3 Protection & maintenance

1. Materials

To construct most siege machines, you need wood, axe and saw, ropes or chains and leather, nets or cloth. Your craftmans should be able to make wooden wheels, carve a hook and connect two logs together. You can use ropes, nails to connect logs, or wooden spikes.

No machine needs everything. Use whatever you have close. Metal or stone works too, but wood is easier to use, unless your craftsman is very good. Wood needs to be sturdy and not fall apart easily. Wet, burned, as long as it is sturdy. You will need big logs or tall trees.

If you can make this, A picture of ratchet gear. then you can make ballistas and catapults. If you can't, stick with trebuschets.

You need strong and thick ropes that you can't tear in half, but can stretch a bit.

2. Machines and materials.

Trebuschet: Logs, something to connect them stones to throw and something heavy. If you have ropes, leather or chains, it will throw stones further.

Catapult: Logs, sometimes to connect them, wooden gears, and sturdy ropes. Chains won't work.

Ballista: Ropes, wooden gears, wood, giant arrows.

Ram: Wood, one sturdy log, ropes or chains.

Shield: Wood or logs and something to hold it together. Fresh animal hides recommended.

Siege tower:

2.1 Trebuschet.

Following pages are riddled with schematics. You could get impression that author could have made decent engineer, architect, but not artist, if said author spent more time practicing crafting skills instead of using catapults in battle.

Make wooden frame.
picture of wooden base of trebuschet

Connect logs like this
picture of logs connected with rope
or like this
picture of logs connected with nails

Place long log like this
picture of lever resembling long uneven see saw
make sure it turns. Attach giant basket ON CHAIN or anything that can hold a lot of big stones, as big as humans to short end.
Several pictures of nets, baskets and wooden frames and even wagon used for trebuschet weight
If you don't have chain, attach without it, but it won't shoot as far. To long end attach giant sling.
picture of giant sling
If you have no sling, make giant spoon,
picture of giant spoon on trebuschet
but it sling is better.

Add long rope or chain to long end. You'll need someone to pull it. You could also use claw and hit it out with hammer to fire.
picture of simplistic "lock" mechanism to hold chain in place.
Place the whole thing on ground or on wheels.
Few more pictures

To throw rocks:
Fill basket on short end with something heavy. Rocks, ground or sand works. The more the better. A wagon of rocks should do.

Use expendable troops to pull chain on the long end, place sling under the middle of trebuschet and load it with rocks. If you don't have sling, load spoon.

Release rope you've been holding, and run away from it. When trebuschet fires, rope can hit and throw nearby troops along with the stones. You may be able to use that to your advantage.

Simplistic picture of trebuschet in motion with couple of stick figure running away from the rope

You can repeat process again, when sling stops swinging.

2.2 Catapult

This section appears to describe torsion catapult. You may wonder how much luck original recipients would have making those works

You will need good ropes, wood, and good craftsman that can carve this gear:
picture of ratchet

Make this frame:
Depicts square wooden base of roman catapult with wooden stop in middle of it
Punch constriction couple of times, if it falls apart, try again.

Carve couple of those gears, and place them here.
picture of ratchets attached at the middle of catapult and at one of its ends

Make sure they turn with their axles.

Carve giant spoon.
picture of giant wooden spoon

Draw many ropes through the middle gears like this.
picture of many many ropes in the middle of catapult frame affixed through rachets
Stick giant spoon into then.

Attach rope with a hook this part
Depicts rope attached to turning portion of catapult with simple L shaped hook in it

Start turning those parts so spoon gets stuck into this plank.
Depicts winding up of catapult

You're done.

To fire:
Connect hook to spoon.
Picture hook connected to spoons base

And use someone strong to turn this gear, until spoon is in this position.
Picture of spoon being moved into firing position

Load it with rocks, when ready to fire, hit, hook away from spoon with hammer.
Picture of simplistic figure smashing away hook from spoon with hammer
Stay away from path of moving part.

You can place catapult on the ground, or affix wheels to the base. Wheels might be better, because catapult is smaller.
picture of wheeled catapult

2.3 Ballista

You need logs, strong ropes, and your craftsman needs to be able to carve this part.
picture of ratchet

Make this wooden frame.
picture of square wooden frame

Affix more planks like this
More wooden details added in middle, now it kinda resembles giant crossbow

Make sure it is sturdy enough.

Put rotating chunk of wood here, and attach the gear from earlier to it.
picture of wooden axle attached at the end of crossbow, with two ratchets attached to it

Make two short wooden sticks, put and add two roped cords here and here.
picture of two thick string cords attached at the sides of firing shafts

Take two sticks from earlier, stick them through the cords, and attach more rope to them.
picture of sticks with rope attached to them, now it resemble bowstrings

Place the whole thing onto wooden base of wheels.
Two different pictures depicting wheeled ballista and stationary ballista

Attach rope to rotating part at the handle and make simple hook at the end of it.

Wind up cords to which bowstring is attached.
More pictures depicting winding up of torsion cords on ballista

Add reinforced portion of wood in the middle
picture of reinforced piece at the middle of bowstring

To fire:
Attach hook to the reinforced part.

Wind up bowstring using gear at handle.

Load arrow.

Aim.

Release the arrow by hitting hook with hammer.

Picture demonstrating firing process

2.5 Mobile Shield

This simple construction protects you from enemy archers. It will not, however, defend you against mages.

You only need logs and something to connect them.

picture of what is essentially wooden wall on wheels

To protect against enemy flaming arrows, cover with fresh animal hides, and pour water over it, before moving onto combat.

More picture depicting hides attached to structure

2.6 Ram

You will need ram to tear down enemy walls and entrance doors. You can use simple big wooden log for it.
Depiction of couple of simplistic figures carrying a huge log and smashing wall with it

But you'll be vulnerable to enemy archers.

Add simple moving roof on wheels, and affix ram on chains on ropes underneath it.
Cover roof with animal hides and pour water over it. That will protect you from enemy arrows and the structure will not catch fire outright if your opponents start using fire.
Depicts /\ shaped structure on wheels, with battering ram affixed in the middle of it on chains

2.7 Siege tower

Schematic of classic siege tower, with step by step construction explanation

Only build this structure if you need to scale large walls and have straight path to them. If there is moat, river, you will need to fill them or avoid using towers altogether.

Several pictures depicting situations

Place forces to push it behind it, place archers and mages at higher floors, and ground troops with shields at lower floors.

When facing flying enemies, close front wall.

Cover it with wet hides, to protect from flaming arrows.

Protection & maintenance

All those machines can catch fires. Cover battering ram, shield and siege tower with fresh animal hides and pour water over them.

You cannot do the same with ballistas and catapults. Keep water away from ropes, unless they are made from sinew or another material that is resistant to water.

Trebuschet is the sturdiest machine from all of them and is the most resistant to water compared to ballistas and catapults.

Unless those machines are made by skilled craftsman, they will not last forever. On ballistas and catapults, you will need to replace ropes from time to time. Trebuschet will tear through its moving parts. You will need to replace those parts from time to time.

Several pictures pointing at ropes, gears, and moving parts of machines

Without any closing chapter, at this point book ends abruptly. You may wonder if author thought this explanation would be enough.

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Solaris for Hire
by Turin Turambar

This is a tavern song composed by Turin Turambar, "The Chronicler"

The following work was commissioned by a group of the subject's friends, written and composed by Turin Turambar, "Chronicler of Tales". If you would like a tale or song written for you or your fiend, I work for a nominal fee.

Ohhhhhh there once was a dagger for hire
Turns out she was just a liar.
She talks of strategy, but all I hear is blathering
Solaris the LIAR for hire!

There once was a dagger for hire
From the age of four, she really was a bore
SOLARIS THE DIAPER FOR HIRE!

There once was a dagger for hire
She has skills and her "Mother done taught em"
BUT SHE STILL CAN'T WIPE HER BOTTOM!

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Songs of Solwyn Astorio
Originally written by Solwyn Astorio, this copy was made by Sirion Te'Dwa.

This book appears to be a collection of various songs written by someone named Solwyn Astorio.

This particular book has notes and some advice to potential performers.

Music from this song is rhythmic but rather slowly paced. It goes steadily and changes little as it progresses.

Here's the tale of brave man
With crossbow and right spell
With his will to slay hordes of dead!
*Singer is supposed to make a brief pause here*
The adventure began
And the tale will excel
All my songs there's not much to be said!

*Another pause here*

With right spell he did well
So much more than I can!
So heroic, yet so many more!
*Singer is adviced to take a deep breath here and continue singing more loudly*
He defied death knell
And did much better than
Anyone you could heard of before!

"Who is that mighty mage?"
You are asking I guess,
"Who is that specialist of right spell?"
*The melody slows down here giving the audience time to wonder about the identity of the mage, if they weren't wondering before*
Name his is Brualot,
Nothing more. Nothing less.
That is all I can currently tell.

*The music continues a while coming to a harsh but predictable ending*

This one appears to be a march. The melody is rather light and joyful. The performer is supposed to start singing quite loudly with determination in the voice.

Once more into the breach!
Where corners are dark and sunlight cannot reach.
Dance of shadows and steel!
In caves we faced gold, dragons and thrill!

First step into the hall:
Kobolds have tried to pin us to a wall!
With our will and my lute
We surely managed to clean the route!

*This couplet is supposed to be sung and played more quietly than the others. Simulating whisper would be perfect*
Next was turn to the left.
Wise Damien noticed traps in the cleft!
We just avoided those...
I have to admit though, that was pretty close!

One more turn to the right
And kobolds once more are ready to fight!
*The music stops for half of a second as should the singer*
Done! And again we prevail:
McGrath got them all with his masterwork flail.

*In this couplet the singer is supposed to make pauses after every line. The music continues unaffected*
Last step into the fray:
Small wyrm and his prophets have crossed our way!
With our powers combined.
With magic and steel we surely survived!

*The music continues just long enough to repeat the last line, though it is up to the singer to decide whether this should be done*

This song is slow and thrilling with a melody simple yet beautiful in its own way. The singer is supposed to make small pauses after every line, just long enough to repeat the two last words.

In the woods of despair sun is rarely seen.
In those woods darkness covers moss of emerald green.
Of all places I know of all places I've been
Those woods surely are the most mean.

In the woods of despair you are never alone
In those woods fear crawls from your skin to your bones
Of all places to be of all places to roam
Those woods last place you should call your home

*The music slows and gets more quiet as the couplet continues*

In the woods of despair you will never be safe
In those woods you will know what it's like to be waif...
*The melody stops here, and the singer is almost talking now*
Of all places to sing. Of all places to warn.
Those woods last place to be of your scorn.

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Tales and Omens from an Arch Fey
by Adrian Baker

First edition

Bladestone Foundation, Lion's Way, The Sword Coast

22nd of Eleasis 1356
Year of the Worm

Tales and Omens from an Arch-Fey


A story of the past . . .



. . . bring tidings of the future



by Adrian Baker

Personae

Story-teller:
Robin Goodfellow. Esteemed bard also known as Puck, Arch-Fey of the Summer Court, and Valet to Lord Oberon

Location:
Warrior's Rest tavern, Bladestone Foundation - school of martial arts. Lion's Way, The Sword Coast.

In attendance:
Derik Ranloss, Lylan'Synor Syr'Asiryn, Bunny Highhope, Ronja Leonhart, Talio

Author:
Adrian Baker

Foreword

The following book retells a story in three segments told by the bard Robin Goodfellow. The over-arching theme of the story holds an omen of things to come, as perceived by Robin. While no concrete warnings are given, much is alluded to by the esteemed bard.

One particular omen, which has been exempted from the retelling, but is a theme throughout, is the increased presence of dragons as of late on the Sword Coast. As Robin puts it: "dragons do not fly over ahead unaccompanied... things follow."

The author has sought to turn a rather scattered story into a more cohesive retelling. Each segment is followed by notes from the author, wherein an attempt is made to connect the threads laid out by Robin. These attempts are merely speculation, and not to be taken as fact. The reader is encouraged to make their own speculations to connect the threads.

The Three Kings

Robin begins his story with an introduction of the Three Kings. A trio of traders from other realms, consisting of a Djinn, an Efreeti, and an Imp. No names are given by Robin, and none are offered by those in attendance.

The Three Kings form a curious group, who specialize in outrageous and absurd trades. Among their known trades in the past have been: a dream, a left-handed spoon, and an arrow of slaying sold to a Druid.

While those trades are strange, there are two others, which seem to stand out throughout the story: a deck of magic cards, and a trip to a Fey Court.

While no further details are given by Robin he does mention that the Three Kings also took a wizard to another place for a while. Just like the Three Kings, no name is given for the wizard.

The group has been absent from the Sword Coast for some time, but are now back to conduct more of their strange trades. Robin advices caution, not only to their actions but more so their words.

Author's notes on the Three Kings

It is likely that others on the Sword Coast will know of the Three Kings, and can provide their names. As of the moment of writing, however, those names are unknown by the author.

Robin makes mention of a wizard once again between the second and third segment. This time referring to the wizard as an irate one named Spirion or Sillion, who accidentally scattered the magical cards held by the Three Kings. Whether that wizard is the same as the one mentioned above remains unclear.

The Three Knaves

Robin now moves on to tell of another group, which he refers to as the Three Knaves. This particular group consist of the devil Yhogovolish, the lich Polvich, and Donol, who is likely a Fey.

Yhogovolish and Polvich has previously worked together during the Devil Wars, with the former occupying the Old Silver Mine in the Troll Claws — a mine now known as the Gem Mine. Both of them were eventually driven away, but not defeated entirely, and thus the threat of their return remains, which Robin alludes to.

Robin further shares that Polvich, while in his sanctuary on another plane, faced an uprising by his followers, and subsequently had his lich powers broken. His lich powers still remain, lessened perhaps, but not gone.

Donol seem to have little connection to the other two, and Robin believe him to be the lesser trouble of the Three Knaves. Donol's reappearance and reacquisition of his magical pipes during these troubled times, however, is not to be ignored, and yet may play a role in events to come.

Whether related or not, Robin makes a mention of a noble, crazed on Upperdark herbs, who was found in the sewers of Baldur's Gate with a copy of the book "The Seven Sons" in hand.

Robin finishes this segment off by tying the Three Knaves to the Three Kings through their shared interest in strange items and magical oddities. Of particular note is a plant rumored to be found in the Upperdark. What the plant is, and why Yhogovolish was or is searching for it is unclear to Robin.

Author's notes on the Three Knaves

The assumption that Donol is a Fey comes from some light banter before the main story was told. During the banter Robin mentioned that Donol, a musician who play on the emotions of his audience, had recovered his lost pipes and promptly visited the Summer Court of the Fey, where he played for Lord Oberon. His pipes are rumored to have been recovered by an adventurer in some Gnoll Caves on the Sword Coast, after which they found their way to Donol.

The mention of the noble and the book about The Seven Sons is included due to Robin previously in the same segment explaining how The Seven Sons rose up against Polvich, when the wizard was performing his ritual to ascend into lichdom. The noble is also of interest due his use of Upperdark herbs, when considering Yhogovolish was looking for plants in the Upperdark.

Details about the Devil Wars, which was briefly shared during the story, has been exempted from this book. For in-depth details of those events, please refer to "Dissertation on the Old Silver Mines" volumes 1 and 2.

The Three Jokers

The final segment given by Robin portrays a group he refers to as the Three Jokers. Who or what the Three Jokers are, remain unclear. Because of this there will be no prior assumption of such going into this segment. There will be some speculation in the author's notes.

Robin tells of a terrible pirate by the name of Torvil the Tide. Whether or not this pirate ever existed is something of a mystery, even to Robin, who believe Torvil to be a ghost story meant to scare other pirates.

Torvil is rumored to rest at the bottom of the sea with all his treasure. A treasure greater than all the treasures combined of pirates alive today. Among that treasure is a Torvil's hat, studded full of blue diamonds.

Next Robin speaks of Donol once again, and how the Fey returned to a particular court of Fey, referred only to as "that court". During that return Donol played an ancient tune. In it Donol sings of a mythical plant known as the Onyx Orchid. A plant that can be used to create both a terrible poison and the healing of such a poison.

The segment is finished off with a tale of a nameless tiefling, who recovered some writings known as the Polvich Papers.

This part takes place during a time when the cultist followers of Polvich were fighting against the Dracolich Efar. One of those cultists were caught, and brought before Court in Baldur's Gate.

During the trial the nameless tiefling arrived to represent the cultist. A sealed scroll case was presented, containing the so-called Polvich Papers. Since it was unopened, however, as asked by an official that the Court, there wasn't sufficient evidence against the cultist, who was found not guilty. With the trial ended, the nameless tiefling collected the Polvich Papers, and departed.

Author's notes of the Three Jokers

It is assumed that the Three Jokers in this segment refer to Torvil the Tide, Donol, and the nameless tiefling. However, given that Donol is also considered one of the Three Knaves, it could be reasoned that the jokers refer to Torvil's treasure, the Onyx Orchid, and the Polvich Papers. This segment will be revisited when more information is available.

There is some inkling of credibility to the story of Torvil, as Robin explains that a chest was recently found washed ashore, and found within was a blue diamond. In what way Torvil and his treasure relates to the other two is unknown. Robin did go on to comment, however, that rumors of the treasure may drive the greedy to search for it.

The Onyx Orchid makes a curious appearance, considering how the necromancer Batibat previously managed to poison the arch-druidess Sarisay. Druids are known to be immune to poisons, yet given the near-mythical nature of the Onyx Orchid it could have been used to circumvent such.

Words from the author

Robin tells an interesting and alarming story, wherein prior evils haunting the Sword Coast may yet return, or bring about new terrors due to something they left behind.

Several happenings as of late on the Sword Coast can likely be tied to some of the events mentioned in Robin's tale.

• The rise and sightings of undead along the the Sword Coast
• The appearance of shadow dragons in Cloakwood and near Greenest
• The poisoning of the arch-druidess
• The sickness spreading in the foothills south of Nashkel
• The sudden rise in power of the Troll King in the Troll Claws

This is purely speculation by the author, and are not to be taken as factual ties between the above events and Robin's tale. Rather it serves to inspire further research, by anyone willing.


Finally, should anyone wish to examine the raw transcript of Robin's tale, such can be had by contacting the author. To do so, leave a message addressed to the author at the Bladestone Foundation.[/center]

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Tales of House Santraeger I

Tales of House Santraeger. Book I - Origin.

Recorded by Ameris Santraeger

I am the last. The Count's Santraeger are a thing of history, burned along with the Lion Dynasty in the turmoils in Tethyr. If I ever have a son, I will give him my name, and I will share with him my memories, but he will have no title from me, no inheritance. That which I have learned in life, that which I now believe, makes me think this is a good thing; for any ruler who forgets his duty to the people forfeits any such right; and one must serve in order to remember.

Still, this imaginary son should know from what line he has sprung. He should know why his father thinks and acts the way he does, and he should take from the past that which is creditable; perhaps he will be the one to raise our name again, and this time, with the honor it once had. Let me write these words, then, so they are not forgotten. For mine is a dangerous path; I may never see this imaginary son grow to manhood. Perhaps these are words for dry historians only. Let them survive, if just for that.

Any history covering a thousand years will include descriptions of events long outside living memory, distorted by mistake and by design. Yet I will write what I was taught, a tradition, if not historical fact.

There are some families living on Cape Velen, descendants of the old clans, who can trace their lineage back for more than fifteen hundred years. The Santraeger were less illustrious, and our history extends back less than a thousand years, by my reckoning. The tale of our rise to nobility is one that I remember being told at an early age, recited in the chapel of Helm in our castle in hushed tones, reminding a youthful Ameris that he came from a long line of guardians. "So it came that King Silvyr raised his banner in Ithmong, and with him was once-King Priam, ever loyal, and future-King Strohm, the Left Hand of Vengeance; and around him were all the warriors who had sworn to him in the long struggle against the Emperor, and all the united clans and people of Tethyr. Even the barbarians of the forest bent the knee to the true king, thinking in their debasement that the glamour he had worn to hide from the Emperor's hunters meant he was of them, and not of Tethyr.

With such a host assembled, King Silvyr, bearer of Arhymeria's dagger, spake thusly:

"Free men of Tethyr, chain-breakers, indomitable; we have won our freedom,the city of our ancestors is ours again. The legions of Amahi, the seventh of his name, which he sent against us, are broken. Yet while the Emperor lives we will not be safe. In Shoonach he waits, sharpening his sword, lusting for revenge. He will come again, with fresh legions, and more fetters for our womenfolk and children.

I say to him - No, I say to you, free men of Tethyr, we must keep hearts hard and swords sharp. This land has had enough of war, suffering and Tyranny. Let the Emperor taste such himself, for once! I take my banners south, to Shoonach, to see an end to what we began. Who is with me!"

And once-King Priam, ever loyal, cheered. Future-King Strohm, the Left Hand of Vengeance, cheered. And all around them the warriors who had sworn to King Silvyr cheered, and so did the united clans and people of Tethyr.

And King Silvyr called for warriors to come forward and stand beside him, to guard life and limb in the coming battle. And six stepped forth, in this order, to swear their life to the true King and his person. Garynor Santraeger, Khalid Windsong, Lariathande of the Shield, Nivedis Rokelass, Bardin Wisefoot, Mirella Valmirgir. Six Shield for the King.

And so it was that the Six stood beside King Silvyr during the battle in Shoonach, and stood with him when he issued the challenge of single combat to the wicked Emperor, and stood as honor guard when King Silvyr, the bearer of Arhymeria's dagger, met Emperor Amahi Shoon, the seventh of his name, on the sands of the Taragin Arena. They stood at the head of the King's troops, in full view, in duty to King Silvyr, bearer of the Arhymeria's dagger.

And they watched the wicked Emperor work his fell magics to slay the true King and betray the solemn oath he had made to give honorable combat. And they stood, when the Shoon legions descended upon the King's army in treachery, to take the lives of the sons of Tethyr and despoil the body of King Silvyr.

King Strohm, the Left Hand of Vengeance, was the hammer that day. His banners had lain hidden during the duel, but now were unfurled behind the legions, held high as the cry of vengeance rang out.

Yes, King Strohm, the Left Hand of Vengeance, was the hammer that day, which broke Amahi Shoon and his legions. But the men of Tethyr who had stood with the king, and the Six, who had stood over his body, they were the anvil against which the Shoon legions were set, for the hammerblow to fall. And so it was that Amahl Shoon fell to King Strohm, the Left Hand of Vengeance, and the free men of Tethyr burnt foul Shoonach and all the evil that was within. Of the Six, only one still lived, Garynor Santraeger. His wounds were many but he still bent the knee to King Strohm, the Left Hand of Vengeance, by the body of King Silvyr, the bearer of Arhymeria's dagger.

They shed tears together, and when Garynor Santraeger rose, he rose with the title of Count. And King Strohm, the Left hand of Vengeance, said to Count Santraeger.

'As you were Shield to my father, so you will shield the Kingdom of Tethyr, watching the south, so that never again will the chains of Calishites fetter our sons and daughters'."

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Tales of House Santraeger II

Tales of House Santraeger. Book II - The Strohm Dynasty

Recorded by Ameris Santraeger

Family history was mostly silent on our deeds under the Strohm dynasty, although it was always assumed we took part in the major wars of the time which ensured our people's control over the plains. Perhaps we did little of note, or time has eroded the records. I do remember fondly a children's story which seemed to feature a particularly blockheaded ancestor of mine. Generally the nurses were not supposed to share this story with Santraeger children, yet they usually did, as I do not recall a family member who was not aware of it!

Interestingly, my ancestor in this story was no Count, suggesting perhaps that the tale of our elevation to the rank was a little exaggerated - or that we had fallen on hard times, since.

"One day, when he was sitting on his throne, King Strohm the Giant heard that a wicked elf witch had poisoned a lake in the hills. A river flowed from the lake which many peasants would drink from and die if nothing was done. King Strohm was angry, and his mighty brow furrowed, and he banged his fist three times on the arm of his throne. 'Such villainy! How can we save the people!"

Yet the wise Priestess, Iluna of the Grey, was in court, and she listened to what was said. 'My King.' she croaked, because she was old, 'I have this potion which will cure the poison. Go with your vassals and pour it into the lake, and all will be well.'

Hearing this King Strohm stood up at once, and called for his mighty sword and his mail, and in his booming voice he called out. 'To my side, nobles of Tethyr!' And the nobles of his court came to him and they marched out to the hills where the lake was.

There was only one narrow path to the lake, and in the way the elf witch had put a giant of stone, a walking statue. It had a shield of granite, and a mighty fist which could sweep a man from his horse with ease. Its eyes were green emeralds, and they glowed with the evil magic of the witch. The statue barred the way and said in a voice which sounded like the hills 'you must pass me if you want to save your people.'

And then stood forward His Excellency Neric Tarsaka, the Count of Ithmar, arrayed in bright mail and spear in hand. 'Grant me the honor of vanquishing this foul giant of stone, sire!' he pled, and the King nodded. So Count Tarsaka mounted his noble warhorse, raised his shield of oak, emblazoned with a leaping stag, and lowered his lance. He charged furious and true, yet the spear cracked when it struck the giant's shield, and the mighty stone fist came round and swept the Count from his horse, breaking his oak shield, and his arm, and hurling him into the much. Count Tarsaka was defeated, and his fury availed him nothing."
And then stood forward the Warden of the Ruins, Lord Joyrdan Santraeger, wide of girth and strong of arm, his lion embossed shield raised high. "Allow me the honour, sire!" he cried, and the King nodded. And so Lord Santraeger hurled himself forward, his shield crashing into the stone giant as he roared a battlecry. 'Anvil unbroken!' He pushed and he pushed, teeth gritted, the veins on his bull neck standing out, his feet digging into the soft soil, but the giant did not move an inch. Then it's mighty stone hand came round to slap the Lord, hurling him back a distance as far as the height of four men, the breath knocked out of him as he landed in the mud with a splat. Lord Santraeger was defeated, and his stubbornness had availed him nothing.

And then stood forward Lady Gweyr Greencloak the fair, in forest robes, with rings on her fingers. 'I will remove this obstacle, sire!' she said, and the King nodded. And she raised her fingers and pointed at the giant. A spell of ice sprang forth, but the green emeralds in the giant's eyes glowed, and the spell fizzled. Then Lady Greencloak cast a spell of fire, and it too fizzled. Then she cast a spell of acid, and it too fizzled. Spell after spell, and each one fizzled, until the giant scooped up a clod of earth from beneath its feet and threw it at Lady Greencloak, burying her under a giant fistful of mud, so that her servants had to dig her out with spades. Lady Greencloak was defeated, and her magic had availed her nothing.

Then stood fort Sir Paldo Weatherbee of the Purple hills. He was a Halfling, and he had to look up to King Strohm when he spoke. 'Sire! Give me the potion, and I'll sort this out!' He bowed to the King, even as the other nobles laughed at how small he was, and how large the giant was. But the King nodded, and handed Sir Weatherbee the potion. And so Sir Weatherbee stood forward. He did not take out his sling, nor his short blade. The stone giant waited, its mighty fist clenched. And then Sir Weatherbee ran forward, and the stone fist came round to swat him. But Sir Weatherbee was quick! He did a forward roll, and went clear through the stone giant's legs! The giant turned, moving like a mountain, but by the time it had, Sir Weatherbee was away down the path with a laugh. 'Too slow!' he called back.

King Strohm saw the stone giant's heart was at the back and smote it with his greatsword. Yet when it fell into a pile of rocks he spoke out in his booming voice. 'It was not the Sword of Strohm that bested this monster. It was the wit of Sir Paldo Weatherbee of the Purple Hills!'

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Tales of House Santraeger III

Tales of House Santraeger. Book III - Border Wars.

Recorded by Ameris Santraeger

The short lived Mallorhen dynasty offers no stories. However, from what I can tell, several of my families oldest traditions dated back to the Bormul Dynasty, and there are a number of dry accounts of battles in the southern marches against Calishite soldiery and bandits, and of how the Golden Lion, our sigil, was ever seen patrolling the banks of the River Agis. The forging of a tradition of vigilance which lasted to my own time. Rather than relate such annals, though, I think it might be better to consider how my family was viewed in the traditions of others.

This Calishite folk tale relates to a character rather grandly called 'the Night Fox', who appears to have been something of a charitable bandit; unusual, given the usually pitiless nature of the desert tribes of Calimshan.

Many of the tales about the Night Fox revolve around his feud with the 'Pearl Sultan' of Memnon, a black hearted and cruel tyrant who had schemed his way to power and whose cruelty, in the end, led to his own downfall.

I am uncertain if either of these figures are historical at all. From what I can tell, if they were, they lived five hundred years ago, placing this rather 'charming' story during the reign of Queen Sybille the Great.

"Night Fox,
Lying chained,
At last the Sultan's prize.
The dawn's rays would see his cruel end;
Not long!

He came,
The Pearl Sultan, with his captain,
The black-hearted Zuffaz,
Two wicked men,
Gloating.

'You dog!
At the sun's rise,
I'll feed you to the lions.'
Zuffaz's words pleased the Sultan.
'Sharp claws!'
Night Fox,
Even trapped in that dark place,
You showed them no fear,
Mind still hoping,
Smiling.

Not long,
The two soon left,
And Night Fox set to work,
Bars and chains can't trap the desert,
It's free!

He hid,
Slipping past soldiers dim of wit,
Soft steps to the stable,
A fine steed there,
He mounts!
The gate,
Wide open for trade,
Easy for a fox's flight,
He rode out, not to the desert,
But north.

Raging,
The Pearl Sultan sends out riders,
Cruel Zuffaz at their head,
Memnon's finest,
In fury.

He rides,
Swift as the wind,
River shines on the left,
Foreign lands no refuge for him,
Night Fox.
They chase,
Zuffaz and his men riding hard,
Through brush, along bank, close,
Gleaming blades high,
Hungry.

Beyond,
Finally, the ford,
Night Fox had guessed well,
The barbarians waited there,
With force.

Spears long,
Golden lions on their bright shields,
Steeds healthy on plain's grass,
Ready to charge,
Claws dip!
Zuffaz,
Eyes wide in shock,
He knows there are too many
He knows these cruel warriors,
No mercy.

They fight,
Spear points find their targets,
Horse kick, riders shout,
Sword bite like claws,
Bloodshed.

Night Fox,
Leaps from his horse,
Swimming to escape battle,
He smiles as Zuffas meets his death,
Not Fox.

Irony!
Not the Pearl Sultan's well fed pets,
But Northern warriors,
Cruel lions still,
With claws."

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Tales of House Santraeger IV
by Ameris Santraeger

Here the text of two letters preserved in our family archives. The tale of the first time Calishites intermarried into our bloodline is contained in these two letters, written by Barrovar Santraeger four hundred and fifty years ago. This was a time of peace, under Queen Cyriana the Great and the Bormul Dynasty. A time when even the recalcitrant Santraeger found peace in the south.

Barrovar Santraeger became something of a legend to our family: his stubbornness, his fearsome aspect when he riled, and finally the fact that even he had a softer side, as is clear from these two letters of his to the Queen.

It is said that the Calishite who joined our family at this time brought with herself the worship of Selune, explaining some of the older jewelry and furnishing in my home growing up.

To Her Royal Highness Queen Cyriana, Scion of the Bormul Dynasty, the Rightful Bearer of the Kulddannorar, Guardian of her People, Whose Reign Brings Peace, Whose Greatness is Manifest.

My family has served the Throne for over four-hundred years. Our defense of the King, the Kingdom and its People was forged in the fires of Shoonach and has remained resolute ever since. We have kept our vigil over the horrors of the ruins, as commanded, and our riders are ever seen along the River Agis should the Calishites trespass again upon this free land.

For myself, I have ever obeyed all your commands and discharged the duties set by your ordinances.

Your majesty, have I ever failed you? Have I ever refused your commands or shown disloyalty? I have kept the Kingdom's borders unbroken and now you command me to accept an invasion by peace?

The Calishites are dogs, and they made their slaves less than dogs. A dozen generations of my ancestors have watched for their attacks, waiting for them to return with their fetters and their lies. And every generation has sent them scurrying back, whimpering in fear, their tails between their legs. Dogs they are. Less than dogs. Jackals who feed off the corpses of free men.

Think of them as they once held this land, Your Majesty, in their perfumes and silks, languishing in ease as their captives toil, keeping faith neither with each other or foreigners. To a man they are base and without merit; cowards and assassins, born with two faces like most men are born with a pair of lungs. Every breath is a falsehood.

They say slavery is a thing of their past but take it from those who know, Your Majesty. There will be no peace with these men. They offer is nothing but smoke and mirrors. This treaty they have agreed to is nothing but a sham. They will infiltrate our cities with hidden daggers; render our youth weak, and then, when their legions come again, the true sons of Tethyr will stand alone.

And their women! They are never seen! No wonder, given their shadowed weakness! The women of Tethyr are strong enough to rule a kingdom of free warriors. Calishite women can barely lift the silvered plate that holds their sugared dates! Those that aren't vapid are liars and witches of questionable virtue. The lot of them! And now you command me to marry the spawn of some Pasha out of Memnon? You do not just force me to yield a peace treaty, you thin the blood of the Desert Lions who have watched the southern border for you and your ancestors since we were given this honor.

I beg you, your Majesty, do not force my hand in this. I will submit to all commands as I have sworn. Darn, but I beg you please do not hobble my house like this. Let us do our duty, and keep our arms, and drive these sniveling ambassadors away from your court; and let me drive their masters back across the river, or into the arms of death, if I can catch them.

Your Humble Servant

Count Barrovar Santraeger, Warden of the Ruins, Watcher of the South.


To Her Royal Highness Queen Cyriana, Scion of the Bormul Dynasty, the Rightful Bearer of the Kulddannorar, Guardian of her People, Whose Reign Brings Peace, Whose Greatness is Manifest.

Darn, I bow to your wisdom with tears in my eyes. Tears at the mercy you have shown me for my intemperate words when you summoned me before you; and tears at the happiness your commands have brought me.

I had thought you commanded me to wed a desert viper in the name of a false peace. I find instead you have bestowed upon me a treasure; not of gold, akin to that of Tethyr, as I am used to; but silver, like the glimmer of moonlight on the sands, or on the waters of the River Agis.

She came north to me, and I offered her nothing but my disdain and disbelief; measuring her as her kin of times long past even though she spoke true, that the rulers of the desert were not the ilk that came before. Yet she was patient; and waited; and treated my household, my servants and myself with grace.

I have nursed a hatred for those who dwell to the south born of generations of duty. No more. I cannot hate the people from which this woman sprang. I will do as commanded, Your Majesty. I will watch the border with my sword sheathed and cast my anger only at the denizens of the ruins. When I am blessed with a son, he will learn of both my people, and his mother's, and his spurs will be won against the monsters of Shoonach. There is glory enough for him there.

I spoke words of anger to your royal person, that I would never speak soft words to a Calishite. You reproached me then, sternly, and told me that I was blind to the future. It was just. There is one final penance I must offer to you now. The soft words I offered my wife, when our union was blessed again, with my heart in it, under her goddess, not mine, and the proof that you were right about my blindness.

I will look for you, soft amid silver'd shadows;
No fears in the night;
Under Selune, side by side;
An altar of trust afore.

You were right, Your Majesty. I will serve you loyally until the end of my days.

Your Humble Servant,

Count Barrovar Santraeger, Warden of the Ruins, Watcher of the South.

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Tales of the Front Line I
Jalib's Bastards

Year 1355
Edelgarde, Seeker of Candlekeep

Prologue

Following the great operation staged by the Duke’s forces, I have been gathering witnesses from those who were present during those battles. I have tried to contact at least one person for every mission, in order to transpose in writing an exhaustive account of this glorious counterattack against the Devils’ forces.

This book is not intended to be a complete account of the whole war, as this would require a greater amount of material, but a simple story of one of many battles.
In this case, I was lucky enough to hear the whole story from the commander in charge of the group that attacked the enemy’s Forge. Sitting at the inn in Candlekeep, I recorded those moments as accurately as possible.

So, dear reader, make sure you are comfortable and ready, because you are going to read the story of Jalib’s Bastards.

Chapter 1

As I explained in the prologue, this mission was part of a more complex operation orchestrated by the Dukes. Duke Eltan’s main force had the task of facing the bulk of the fiendish forces, however they had little to no chances of succeed without a distraction.

Hence a squad was assembled for this purpose and Jalib, a tiefling and former conscript criminal, was put in charge. Their duty was to lure the main army located at the Forge, the place where the dreadful Hellsteel golems are created, and distract them from the real attack. It was immediately clear that this mission was extremely dangerous and would most likely lead to a large number of casualties. That, however, didn’t discourage the brave fighters. Fighters whose identity was unknown to the commander himself until the last minute.

Those who carried out this dangerous task were four members of the Golden Wheel, two members of the Ebon Blades, a former Red Wizard and a warlock. This lot, frowned upon by many, was named Jalib’s Basterds.

Chapter 2

The team was teleported close to the Forge through a portal, but troubles started at this early stage. One of the fighters charged straight out of the portal without being ordered to and others followed. The commander immediately reprimanded this rash move and gave them a speech. The concept behind it was simple but effective: they were going to succeed and work as the best team they were.
Unfortunately, in battle things are seldom simple and who had been overwhelmed by fear suggested a retreat.

However Jalib and his bastards were a stubborn lot and, in spite of the delays, they carried on with the mission. Pearl, a member of the Golden Wheel, was sent ahead to scout the area, as she was the most discrete of the team. Soon enough her keen eyes spotted some fiendish patrols and a large army at the Forge.
The two heavily armored Ebon Blades, Greil and Astere, and the tiefling Jay of the Golden Wheel charged ahead as vanguard, sustained by Fel the bard, and engaged the hellhounds sent by the enemy.
Inanis the warlock gifted them with supernatural speed and rained acid upon the fiends, while the two mages directed their spells at them.
Needless to say, the hellhounds were quickly dispatched.

A much bigger wave followed as soon as Kahanak, the former Red Wizard, directed his Ice Meteors at the walls of the forge. Since our heroes were hiding in the swamp, the enemy couldn’t estimate their number and thought that the fort was being sieged.
The hellhounds were now accompanied by imps and followed by bearded devils. All, except the most seasoned fighters, feared for their lives, but Jalib charged bringing ruin to the fiends, fighting side by side with the vanguard.
Thanks to them and the spells of the arcanists, this wave disappeared soon enough.

Chapter 3

Dear reader, at this point you might think that the prowess of the heroes was enough to save the day. Alas, victory was still well out of reach.

One of the imps casted a confusion spell on Jay who mindlessly attacked his fellows.
By the time Kiran, the arcanist of the Golden Wheel, could lift the spell, he had already been incapacitated.

As soon as they healed the wounded tiefling, they received a Sending from the Duke’s Court Mage who informed them that Duke Eltan’s forces were ready to move.

With renewed determination, the arcanists evoked meteors on the walls, and the enemy, seeking retribution, sent another wave of bearded devils and imps. The creatures casted Bigby’s Hands on the group, causing one of the mages to fall.

As if it wasn’t enough, portals opened on the field, hellsteel golems pouring out of them.
Although in the original plan the Bastards were supposed to play defensively at the top of a hill, Greil suggested to charge ahead and close the portals before they were overwhelmed by golems.
The commander agreed to the bold move and they managed to clear the way, closing the first portal.

Undaunted, the fiends kept sending golems and imps, that attacked mercilessly with fire
Surely the group would have been utterly annihilated if it wasn’t for the fire ward that the Guide of Candlekeep, Isabella Villame, had placed upon them before the battle.
To face that terrible foe, the commander advised a change in the tactic. Inanis stopped casting her offensive spells and instead enchanted his speed. With renewed energy, the second portal was closed.

Just when Jalib’s Bastards were thinking of a way to close the last one, a mysterious figure appeared from the shadows. Unnoticed by the enemies, he sealed the second portal.
Jalib couldn’t hide his surprise when he found out that the mysterious stranger was indeed Kordren, the last member of the squad even he didn’t know about.

Chapter 4

Victory seemed now within grasp. Strong with a new member, the heroes prepared to march ahead. But suddenly an heart rendering howl shook the very earth under their feet.

“I will burn you!” roared the diabolic colossus, ready to charge toward them.

In front of them stood the fiendish crafter of the hellsteel golems: “the Smith”. He lost his patience and decided to attack alone, thus sealing his death sentence.

He was immediately trapped by Greil and Astere’s sturdy shields, while Fel hacked at his resolve with his sharp songs. Jalib, whose speed was magically enhanced by the warlock, attacked him with his hideous spiked warmace, Wenchslapper, aided by the arcanists’ destructive spells.
When the fiend was finally exhausted he jumped on his knee and smashed his head.

Without their commander, the remaining enemy forces stormed out of the Forge mindlessly. Exploiting this weakness, the heroes closed their ranks in a defensive formation.
However the prolonged fight was taking its toll on them. The arcanists were exhausted and some of them had fallen.

While they were trying to get the wounded out of the meteor rain the enemy had unleashed on them, the Duke’s Court Mage sent them the good news: the Duke’s forces were victorious and the Bastards could retreat.

Just when Jalib’s Bastards prepared to fall back, they realized that Inanis had fallen into a frenzy and kept hauling spells at the fiends. Luckily she and Kahanak, who had fallen, were promptly grabbed by Jay and carried to safety.

Back to the fort, while the wounded were being tended to, nobody wanted to heal the former Red Wizard. However, ignoring their previous quarrels, Jalib insisted that he lived.

One hour later, the whole team, which counted no casualties at all, prepared to meet with the Duke.
Some of them attended to the meeting covered in sweat and blood, others including the commander, were perfectly clean and groomed.
Regardless, all of them were proud of their outstanding success.

Epilogue

This is how one of the hardest and most daunting battles of this war ended. Even if this was only one of many, I believe it teaches us all that even misfits can be heroes.

This group of people was supposed to be expendable. A distraction to be tossed in the face of the fiends. Despite all, everyone made it back.
If it wasn’t for their courage, valor and the discipline established by the commander, my dear reader, you wouldn’t be reading this tale.

Yet there is another lesson in this story I hope every commander will remember: it doesn’t matter which cards we have in our hands, what really matters is how we play the game.

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[Almarea90]

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Tales of the Zen
A series of short stories by Adallan Ragnon, Acolyte of Candlekeep

The Old Tree

In the olden days, there lived an old monk who would caretake a small monastery. Each day, the monk would go to trim a tree that stood in the center of the courtyard, water it, and otherwise keep it in good health. One day, a great storm came. The monastery held, but the storm tore the old tree up, rending it limb from limb, until nearly all was gone but a small portion of it that resembled a sapling.

The following day, one of the monk's students from the nearby village came to visit, and upon seeing the tree, was in dismay.

"Mastery, what of the tree?" he asked, "It has been ruined!"

The monk, in his wisdom, shook his head, then took one of the fallen branches from the ground. "Just as we must cast aside what holds us back, so did this tree. Those branches that were hard and unyielding have been torn, but the soft and flexible remain beneath, able to grow better now that the hard branches have been removed. So we must consider."

In that moment, the student understood.

The Swordsman

In the east, there once lived a man who was reputed to be the greatest swordsman in the land. His strokes were rumored to be able to level mountains, with movements so fluid, he was thought to be able to walk on water.

Each day, this great swordsman would allow three potential students to enter his school, as they would request for him to teach them. Yet, he would only take one to be his student. This day, like any other, he would receive three more.

The first of these applicants was a hardened warrior, and one who boasted to be one of the greatest warriors in the land. He was said to have cut down a thousand men, and told the great swordsman of his abilities, knowing the swordsman would surely take him as a student.

The second applicant was a scholar of the blade, who sought to demonstrate how much he knew of every technique. He told the master swordsman of his studies, which spanned over forty years, to show his grand knowledge of the blade, in the hope that the swordsman would take him.

The third applicant was a man of median age, dressed in simple clothes. He told the master swordsman, simply, that he did not know anything of the blade, but he wished only to learn. He said that the other two must surely be better students.

In consideration, the swordsman looked between them, then pointed to the third man. "I will take you to be my student," he said, "for while the others may have great knowledge and skill, only you have come willing to learn. Yours is an empty palette with which I can paint. With that, you can learn to be both knowledgeable and skillful alike."

The Monkey and the Lizard

A master of the martial arts wandered through his garden with his student, as they normally would, discussing the student's progress. "Master," the student began, "Each day as I learn our art, I find that I understand how I must use the techniques, but when I use them in sparring, I fail. How may I better succeed?"

The master considered this, and offered him a small proverb. "When learning, consider the monkey, always tinkering, always making adjustments. This is good to understand to understand, but in the moment you need your skills, you must not be burdened by this. Instead, consider the lizard. The lizard does not think, it simply does. When the time comes to use what you have learned, do not consider the monkey, but instead the lizard.

A Final Note

Though trials may test
Beware not the difficult
Try. Fail. Overcome.

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[Almarea90]

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The Adventures of Lothar Krinkrak Vol I
by Lothar Krinkrak

The adventures of Lothar Krinkrak, as recorded by Lothar Krinkrak, edited by L.K. Published by Krinkrak Publishers, Krinkrak hall.

Lothar Krinkrak, Wizard of the halls, sword of the clan, Slayer of Dragons, Flayer of Goblins, and other titles Very strange titles for an otherwise normal man. I may dabble in some unsavory arts, but please, in this land of danger should one not arm himself with all manner of weapons with which to defend himself.
Much like a farmer who invites a wolf into his hold, a warrior who does not seek to better himself is a fool and will be slain by one who is. I have decided to record my thoughts and adventurers here as a guideline for future generations who seek to follow in my footsteps. Of course SOME may disagree with my journey, but I implore the undecided to consider the undead infestation under the nose of Baldur's gate as a signpost of the naive and lazy.

Dear reader, you have made a wise choice; for I, Lothar, am a true revolutionary. My foes will fall like butter in a hot pan, my enemies will thin like sausages on a plate, goblin will roast like a pig on a spit. This I promise and more. Among my first task was the cleansing of the graveyard, the undead within were... interesting. Assisted by my brother Sternbarr Krinkrak, I cleaned each crypt, tunnel and chamber of that infernal place. Yet, more Skeletons emerged out of the air, the necromancer in its depths was replaced by another in an endless cycle. It was a most eye opening experience. Something was creating these skeletons, something very powerful. A force that could rid Krinkrak hold of the Goblins no doubt. But I digress. The guards and flaming fist seemed content to guard the periphery, and there was no clear way to stop the infestation, thus, I was forced to withdraw from my expeditions, lest madness set in.

It is here my foray into the arcane emerged in an obsessive way. I consulted with Ragefast, but he seemed more occupied with that damned egg than any form of real power. I was alone in my search for the power to retake the halls, alone, safe for my enemies. Learning from a foe can be harsh but excellent venture.

My first journey into Wyvern territory was not a fortuitous one. I was subjected to a foul poison. Damnit.
*Redacted* I met a strange lady. She made me nervous. She took me in, and made me consider learning battle magic from an elf with a beard called Nedrin. She called herself Lafali'Atria-Hoihe Dacino, its good the elves were blessed with long lifetimes as they squander time on excessive formalities.

Atria did have an excellent point on battlemagic. One can only get so far with spell and sword. Of course this might depend on the quality of the sword, and the nature of the spell. Consider Mithril and Iron. Iron is a fairly standard material that suits most needs, Mithral is exceptional, better in every way, lighter, stronger. Magic, I believe, can be thought of in the same way. A druid may fling a venomous dart, but what good is that venom against a fireball or a skeleton. The boundaries of battle magic have not been pushed for fear of the result. I cannot allow myself this slothful respite from the hardships necessary to restore the clan.
*This next segment has been redacted*
Well the plains of the dead are certainly teeming with dead. Probably should've seen that coming. Luckily my powers have grown considerably after the clan's wyvern hunts. The vault of the dead was one area of particular interest. Several floors teeming with 'Revenant's, Banshee's, Lich's, with various lesser but formidable undead. At depths of the vault we came across several terrifying ghosts protecting a door. Master whisper managed to secure a key, but I wish he had not.

Within that chamber was a hulking mass of bones in the shape of a Dragon. A 'Dracolich'. I shall not dwell on this subject long, but that power it possessed was truly incredible. Imagine if its gaze was turned towards a task greater than summoning undead to mill about on the plain.

Musings for another time, as we were unable to subdue and examine the 'Dracolich' whom shall henceforth be referred to as Derrick.
Menzoberranzan Azure Wine. What a fantastic vintage, I could not resist acquiring a few bottles of the stuff in Ss*redacted*. It's amazing what passes for a disguise in the darkness of those caves. I don't wish to sound bigoted, but I think the longlegs down there are more likeable than those on the surface.

The route through the Troll Claws down *redacted* turned out to be a safe but confusing tale. Similar to the Minotaur ruin's in the Cloakwood, a great mind will do fine, a fool will suffer.

It seems an alternative route through Krak Helzak is also plausible, but more predictable to the underfolk. However, the clan is growing in strength once again and cunning acts that were once necessary will soon be a luxury.

On a completely unrelated note, I am beginning to notice some changes. My skin is hardening and becoming pale, I was also able to dominate a skeleton on the plains recently. A most interesting development. I must examine Derrick further.

The end of Volume I

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