From the Chronicles of the Craver of Pain, written on the events of 17th- 20th day of Kythorn
There is no rest for those who seek the Core of their Existence; that place of perfect self that my teachers so strived that I reach. Yet how many trials await on that golden road that leads so far into the self? I would know soon enough, as we descended into the very bowels of the earth itself.
The day after our fierce battle with the flesh army at the inn; Tharamis and I had to heal. My wounds were extensive and did deteriorate me to the point of collapse. We sought the relative security of the forest to the north- where once we retreated to in order to escape from the leader of the darkness that had so beat us back. There in the forest we attempted to heal one another- with mixed results.
The majority of the group decided to return to town; for reasons that I, to this day, do not understand. Returning, the inn was secure, and all the people there requested that we spend another night defending the town of Channath. We decided to leave; but my brother Tharamis and Topo, decided to stay in order to heal. He allowed me to leave and warn other towns of the danger. Deep in my soul, I had not liked that one of my teachers abandon me to the world. It was only after much later that I would learn that the Nauthiz must learn alone in the world- without the direction of another.
When we returned to town we acquired other allies as well. A half-Orc Barbarian approached us (a shame that my unique race often times chooses to embrace the ways of the wild- so much power await us in the path of the Core) and offered his sword to defeat this enemy- his name, Vorlax- with the title of Bonecrusher no less. Beside him was easily one of the bravest (or most foolish) elf sorcerers, I have ever had the entertained pleasure of walking the path with, his name, Galbreath. We would soon know why...
Finally Sparrow suggested, and decided to follow the sickening trail that the body of Pheruzius left- as he was dragged to the lair of these fleshed enemies. Little did we know that in his death the mage would aid us more than in life.
Following the trail, a spore that even the wise and astute ranger, Sparrow, had some difficulty following across a river. Where we apparently learned that dwarves, like the weapons they forge, fear being rusted by water. I had no idea they were so delicate to rivers and oceans. This begs the question which I have never asked any of them- how often do they bathe?
We all made motions to cross the small river, most of us crossing it with relative ease. All except Darr, Son of Badden, he outright refused; much to our annoyance. Wading across, I had to throw a rope and lead him across as if leading him to the fires of his doom. Actually if we would have been leading him to that he would have felt at home.
Making Darr’s crossing without incident. the trail lead to a large entrance that descended downward. Typical of my barbarian brethren, Vorlax rushed into the main entrance- without thought to markings or anything of the sort. He must have believed, he had dark vision, that all simply follow him. This we did. Finding nothing except a band of wild dogs snarling at us. Beginning with Galbreath, who immediately attacked in the unsorcerer-like style, we defeated them relatively easily. Yet in the end one was able to howl before dying- and this may have alerted the enemy to our presence.
Upon a quick search we found a narrow staircase to another level. With great confidence, Vorlax descended into the darkness, I followed- trying to obtain an efficient marching order. However with such adventurers as Galbreath and Roondar, such planning is inadvertently defeated. On the second level we encountered more of the creatures which leveled Channath; beating them back on two fronts after Vorlax and I leaped into the fray. I tumbled past a few to get a jump from behind them.
A wide slope lead to our next level of challenge. It began with us descending the slope, no simple task with the fighter Darr about. A seasoned dungeoneer, Darr wished to use ropes and pegs in order to descend to the next level. True the dwarf thought of escape when everyone only thought of exploration and conquest- but no one said anything about leading a mule into the challenges ahead.
Galbreath nearly killed himself when he foolishly slipped down the slope while trying to climb to retrieve some torches.
After we all descended the treacherous slope, we all refused to bring the mule Beelee. Thus our fighter had to leave his companion- no matter what level of skill the mule may have had in exploring dungeons. As Darr descended the slope, I spotted something moving in the impenetrable darkness; I informed the dwarf, and he soon brought the attention of a magic wielding skeleton warrior. We fought from a distance as many of them came at us. We all fought bravely with Sparrow slicing the air with his arrowheads and keeping a keen eye on our backs. Again the Sorcerer Galbreath attacked as if a mighty young warrior possessed his soul. Wounded almost near death, he begged Amalor for healing but the cleric refused- saying that he would hold onto his spells for when there would be a greater need. That indeed would come soon enough...
We attacked a second front of skeletal warriors, Hygelac and Vorlax rushed the onslaught- with Darr slamming into the fray with his axe. Critical problems usually come in sets. Vorlax dropped his great sword moments before Darr dropped his great axe. Both Vorlax and Darr lost their weapons to the enemy, their skeletal opponent took both weapons and made off into a tunnel. Amalor turned two of the undead and they fled into the antechamber.
As Sparrow shot at some approaching skeleton warriors, they cut the ropes leading down to a wounded Roondar. Then the skeletons attempted to leap the across the slope towards sparrow. One made it amazingly enough, the other fell to where Roondar rest.
I have purposely left out the actions of Roondar, for so much I am sure has already been written about him (and by him). To the chroniclers I say that the gnome sorcerer is only a volley of showmanship- perhaps even a good acrobat. If you are of strong mind then you will not believe what he has written about our adventures. One episode, however, is true- when he leaped the chasm to escape a skeletal warrior. Few saw the gnome leap a distance impossible for any of his race; by the gods had I and others only seen that lone torch leap across that stone maw. A shame that this glorious feat had to be cheapened by the gnome repeating his tale of the accomplishment to everyone constantly.
The dark cloud that Darr had carried ever since that day in his mine, where tragedy struck just before lunch- must have caught me in its grip. Perhaps influenced by the blind rages of Vortax ( a feat I always believed to be a part of the half-orc’s soul rather than a barbarian’s ability) I chased after the vile turned undead in the chamber. My fists served me quite well as I felt bone and magic being crushed despite their ability to blink in and out of existence.
Unfortunately for me Darr decided to help me defeat the warriors. Yet when he attacked, his axe, or better his hand, failed him. Darr’s weapon flew into the rock before us, pieces of stone flew into our face- throwing the fighter deeper into a rage. He grabbed the weapon, but this god that these dwarves worships, this moradin, seemed to again abandon him. Aye what good is a god if he does not serve you? How well our souls, our minds, our bodies, do serve us without a prayer or an evocation! Darr pulled the axe out and dropped it. After picking the axe up once again he swung at the enemy. This moradin must have also had a grudge against me. The axe swung too wide and cleaved me in the side- throwing me dangerously close to death’s sweet embrace.
After the great and generous Amalor healed me- I learned that the enemy had been defeated but shadows still awaited us on still lower levels. Sparrow was wounded, Galbreath near death, and Roondar excited but also near death. Vorlax slayed the remaining skeletal warriors in the area.