Entry 29 - Ignismons Still no signs or whispers of the Lovitarians. I can't sit idle. I yearn to know what lies in these mountains around Blackbridge. Having little knowledge of the passes beyond immediate Blackbridge, I've hired a dwarven guide by the name of Jonty. In our first expedition, under my suggestion, he has taken me beyond Stonepeak and into the domain of the Fire Giants! There I wanted to see first-hand where these creatures of the flame lived, how they fought and what defenses they rendered against the Frostmaiden's edict in the cold mountains. Jonty proved quite useful with the shield keeping most of the giants at bay so that I may rain arrows from afar and take in the sight of this fortress... Ignismons. May the Cold Goddess never hear me say that name aloud. As we entered, I felt my attunement to the cold waver, the searing heat stealing my breath. I had never entered such a place. At first, I hesitated to call upon my power—fearing the Frostmaiden's presence could not pierce this infernal domain of lavaflows and blistering air. But as we carved through their ranks, I paused… and stooped to take fingers from the fallen. Bone trophies, soon to be pendants. With each, my certainty returned. I would offer them to her, strung in cold tribute. Proof that I still walk her path. That her will may yet reach even here—and lessen her ever-obsession with Icewind Dale. I grow frustrated in searching for these Lovitarian "ghosts." If I cannot find them in the flesh on my own, then I will begin getting extra eyes to aid me. I've spoken with Thau'lira, the sentinel of Peltarch's circle about this "black armored" figure and should he walk through Peltarch, I would hope she will send me word. If this proves to be a waste of time, then perhaps the fire giants know of any sites related to this "Ice Throne." I'm sure they would look to regularly raid if they could. Another expedition to their fortress must be planned and any clues must be found!

A lone figure made his way through the cold night out toward Blackbridge’s gates, but two pairs of footprints crunched through the snow. The first belonged to the figure, a short human, well dressed in a black velvet coat. He shivered, underdressed for the cold. The second pair of footprints belonged to something invisible, the shape of the prints like those of a gigantic chicken. The shivering individual carried a single rose and a box of fine Damaran chocolates. “I’m starting to have second thoughts about this.” He said, seemingly to nobody. A gruff voice came from the darkness, “What ye fret’n about? Y’know I’m always look’n out for ya.” “Oh yes. Like that time you cast a fear spell on that sailor about to kill me, making him flee.” “Right!” “And you then cast a dispel on that fear spell, pointed at me, and told the sailor that if he slayed me, you’d be banished back to your home plane and would be unable to cast another spell that would turn him inside out.” “BAHA! Classic. Good times, right?” “… No. I’m just … not sure about this.” “Listen, human, you want to bed a succubus, right? I’m tell’n ya, this one is your type! Trust me.” The figure turned left before exiting Blackridge’s outer gate. They made their way through a side gate and up a snowy bank. The invisibility spell wore off, revealing a hulking mezzaloth at the figure’s side. Eventually, they came to the base of a great stone tower, a heavy iron door at its base. The figure took out some tools and began working on the lock. The mezzaloth watched with utter contempt as the human’s pathetic, shivering hands toil desperately at the lock. With a satisfying “chlunk”, the door was opened. K’Satria straightened up, brushing some of the snow of his shoulders. “How do I look?” “Like a writhing maggot,” the mezzaloth replied, “ripe to be dragged into the abyss to be devoured by-” “I mean, am I comely?” “Wa’? Oh. Yeah?... Is that a velvet coat?” “Yes”. “Very nice. Now, go get her tiger!” K’Satria took a deep breath before entering the tower. Inside, the atmosphere was like the inside of an oven. At first, it was a relief from the bitter cold outside, but before long, he found it difficult to breathe. In the centre of the dark foyer was a large circular glyph, glowing with a sinister infernal glow. Inside the centre of the glyph was a tall, beautiful creature. The horns, wings, and comely figure made it obvious that she was a succubus. The mezzaloth followed K’Satria in, flanking him as if he were his escort. K’Satria boldly strode forward, doing his best to pretend that he was not internally ablaze with passion. “I am .. er … Hello.” The succubus gave the human a look up and down. “I am Merideva. Welcome to Darkmoore Tower. My master is unable to welcome guests at this moment. Perhaps it would be best if you returned another time.” “Ah, well, I’m actually here to…” K’Satria was about to say ‘here to see you’, but he lost his nerve, instead saying, “.. um . to see your master, and to give him these”. K’Satria held out the flower and the box of chocolates. The intense heat in the room had already caused the flower to wilt, and melted chocolate was beginning to drip out of the corners of the box. “You should probably keep these … for yourself!” He handed the box and the withered flower. The mezzaloth clasped its mandibles together, desperately trying to hold back its laughter. K’Satria continued. “Please tell your master I was here and .. that I .. um … wanted a word.” The succubus, with a mixture of amusement and confusion, looked down at the dead flower and the box, now oozing its liquid contents out onto the floor. “I shall inform him when he is available.” “EXCELLENT!” K’Satria blurted out. “I'm … um … I’m going to .. to leave … Merideva.” The mezzaloth was able to contain himself no longer. He erupted in a fit of laughter that echoed up through each level of the tower. The succubus struggled to keep a straight face. “I hope to see you soon.” K’Satria gave a quick, courteous bow, turned on his heel and quickly strode out of the tower. The mezzaloth, still in a fit of laughter, followed him out, barely able to walk straight. Once outside, the freezing night air instantly robbed all the heat out of K’Satria’s body. He hugged himself, partly in a vain attempt to keep himself warm, but mostly to comfort himself after his romantic disaster. The mezzaloth staggered out, wheezing as it tried to catch its breath. “Bah ha ha .. oh .. sweet weeping Illmatah … oh .. classic.” “You were no help!” “Nobody can help you, mate! You’re a lost cause.” Noticing his summoner’s sadness, he mezzaloth attempted to take on a more consoling tone. “Bah, don’t mope about et. Like I keep tell’n ya, a mortal and a succubus, never ends well for the mortal. You’ve got to understand mate, souls like yours, we use them like currency where we’re from. We trade them the same way you .. people .. trade with beans and copper coins. The very best outcome between you and her would be for her to drain your soul out of your body, drag it down into the abyss, and trade it in for a hair clip or something. After that, some demon would probably eat your soul as a snack. After spending a hellish lifetime working through it’s gut you’d be shat out, only to be stepped on by some other demonic bastard. Once squished up between its toes, your shat-out soul would enter into eternity as filthy demonic toe jam.” Arcane runes began to encircle the mezzaloth. “Looks like the summoning is about to end. Need me to slay anyone before I go?” K’sayria sighed. “Not tonight.” “Ba ha ha … later human.” The mezzaloth vanished. The shivering human staggered home, alone, through the snow.

The sailors made their way through the misty cave carrying a chest between them. “Oi Gill, why this cave so misteh?” “Bleedn’ heck Doyl, will ye quit ye ask’n! “Why this cave so misty? Why we carrying this chest? Why we pay tax? Where do babies come from? You and ye constant bloody questions! Will ye just quit ask’n!” Doyl gave a laugh, “Aye, “Will ye just quit asking”. That’s what ye sister said when I kept ask’n her for seconds last night! Ba! ha!” Gill wasn’t in the mood for the joke. “Laugh’s on you mate. My sista died two years ago. Well … sort of. She’s a lacedon now.” “Lacedon aye?” Doyl paused in fake thoughtfulness. “I guess that would explain the pointy teeth!” Despite his great effort, Gill let a laugh burst out of him that echoed about the cave. Suddenly, Doyl’s side of the chest dropped to the floor. Gill lost his grip, and the chest toppled, spilling their ship's tribute across the cave floor. Gill turned to berate his shipmate, “Bane’s balls Doyl – ye clumsy … shite … ”. Doyl was nowhere to be seen. “Doyl?”. A slight gurgling sound was the only reply. “WHO’S THERE!?” Gill peered through the mist, barely able to make out the dark shape moving toward him. He drew his sword, but before the weapon’s tip could clear the mouth of the scabbard, the great black cat leapt out of the mist, knocked the sailor down and tore out his throat with a single bite. Meanwhile, deeper in the cave, an important ceremony was taking place. A pair of sailors held a deckhand’s face down in a deep pool of water. A host of sailors, slavers, smugglers and thugs stood by, watching. Presiding over the scene was a woman with oily, wet hair. She was dressed in a green breastplate adorned with a pair of waves crashing together, and a robe that seemed to be made of woven seaweed. She leaned upon a cruel-looking trident as she addressed the congregation. “For offering coppers when it was within his means to give gold.” The deckhands' struggles soon became random twitching, and then relaxed into the limpness of death. “The Wavemother watches! She weighs the hearts of those who offer tribute! You dare not trespass upon her waves, holding back what should be offered to her! Now, GIVE! GIVE your tribute with fear and trembling! GIVE, knowing the consequences of holding back!” The two sailors lifted the deckhand out of the pool, dragging his body across the temple toward a watery portal. A pair of withered, decomposing arms reached through the simmering barrier to receive the fresh corpse, pulling it back into a watery realm. The rest of the sailors began to toss coins, necklaces, and other trinkets into the pool where the deckhand had just been drowned. Deep below the surface of the pool, dark humanoid shapes swam about, collecting the spoils. The sound of the temple's wooden doors creaking open echoed about the chamber. Two sharp, whip-like cracks rang out as a pair of sling stones sped toward one of the sailors. One stone struck his forehead, the other his groin. The sailor buckled over, drawing his sword as he staggered toward his attacker. The priestess struck the cave floor with the base of her trident, pointing at two other sailors and motioning them toward the temple doors. The three sailors disappeared into the mist as they ventured through the doors to search for the assailant. The rest stayed to guard the priestess. Before long, the sound of a scuffle was heard, followed by silence. The priestess sent another two to go investigate, and again, the sound of slaughter, followed by silence. She sent another two, and another, until eventually she was alone in the chamber. Clutching her trident in both hands, the priestess moved out toward the temple doors. Through the mist, she could see the ground was slick with blood, and could make out the shapes of bodies. She continued down the passageway back into the marshalling chamber. Through the mist, she could make out the outline of a small figure, barely the size of a child. “Are you lost, young one?” asked the priestess, drawing her holy symbol. “You should-“. The woman’s words were cut short as the figure's arm flashed, cracking a sling like a whip. Its stone struck just under the priestess’ kneecap. “RUNT!” She barked through clenched teeth as she limped forward to attack. The hooded figure stood motionless, waiting for the priestess’s assault. Concealed beneath the mist was a churning pool of magical grease. The priestess fell as she staggered into it, unable to stand again after many clumsy attempts. The halfling flicked her wrist again, this time spinning the sling, making it coil around her forearm. Her hand now free, she drew a dagger from a scabbard on her thigh. As if on cue, the great dark cat broke through the mist and began savagely tearing at its prey. The hooded hin drew closer, raising her dagger high above her dead, kneeling to deliver the coup de grace. The priestess raised a trembling, blood-soaked hand, “p-please…”. The masked halfling hesitated, a brief moment of compassion staying her hand. The great cat felt no such compassion, finishing the priestess’ life with a savage bite to her throat. Martoushca stood, pulling back her hood and pulling down the scarf that was concealing her face. After sheathing her dagger, she drew an imaginary circle over the fallen priestess, a druidic genuflection. “May your deeds follow you into the next world”. As she began to walk off, the panther followed, letting out a low growl. “You made a bit of a mess today, Private!”. As he patted the panther behind the ears, she began to think about her own deeds and of what would follow her into the next world. She shook the thought out of her head. “You’re going to take a bath. Smelly cat.”

@cbthe4th Yes, that sickle is still kicking around. Good for cutting grass.

FIXES: Changed Level partying XP limit from 4 levels to 5. Now go out there and do some defenestration and trucidation!

In recent times, Ravos Calchais the Daedalus Guild Commander, and husband to Lady Varya Tiller has been away from home for some time. Word in the commons is that he spoke of being needed to fortify and review guard details for stone and lumber caravans of late with rumours of increased bandit lethality. However with the opening up of the Nars Pass bridge he's back, and seen more often in the city wearing a set of mithril plate and the azure-blue and white colours of Daedalus guild forces, and has been seen asking after his daughter, Esmerelda of whom both her and her brother Valdabrin having long pursued their own path. Esmerelda in the Legion and wandering the region as a priestess of Chauntea. The whereabouts of Valdabrin is not known though, his impending wanderlust was well known. With few responsibilities at home, he heads off to the city hall to confirm with the Herald that it was Guard General Cobin Daedalus' intention to re-take his seat in the civic council, upon which on the Royal Council Ravos once sat on behalf of his guildmaster. Ravos doesn't reveal any of the reasoning of that change, but he lets it be known to the city hall staff that he won't be needing to be authorised to enter council chambers anymore. As of now he seems content to catch up with news around the city, but perhaps what he'll do now he's at a loose-end is anyone's guess.

After yet another caravan raid some time ago, little response was forthcoming from the Legion, Peltarch, armed contingents or Norwick's adventurers other than the response of ordinary citizens of Norwick, Peltarch and Hinhold to the wounded. With whatever swiftness recent raids have been conducted little of any military significance has been offered to an enemy who was so elusive and well practiced. At a deep hour in the night of the Nars pass, scavengers gather to pick over what was left of caravans, gathering scraps of wood and any goods not taken by the well practiced ambush force. Eventually only those who scratch the poorest of livings from the land venture into the pass with organised opposition to caravans dwindling. Then just before dawn huge blasts are heard loudest in hinhold, first mistaken for summer thunder, then word reaches Norwick and Peltarch of these loud explosions before the sun rises over the nars pass, creatures peering out of the treeline wondering what took place. Those passing by the bridge in the nars soon realise the tactically significant towers, and their upper firing platforms have been reduced to rubble, those of a tactical mind, pass by and half-relieved that bandits won't be able to occupy them again.

I decided to go on an adventure today! Gosh its been awhile since I really got out and did something. For the most part I just enjoy helping others, taking care of the animals and helping both Grandma and Yllalynn out! Mom went to go shopping and had told me of a fancy sword at Seth's she wanted to buy dad, but given she doesn't really go out much herself anymore, I figured I'd try to go earn some coin. Hearing rumors of ongoings about near the underdark, I decided to visit the Ettins, and with all my training at the Giants I was able to dispatch them with some effort and assistance from the Grain Goddess and the wonderful elementals she allows to help me. Delving deeper and deeper into the dank deep depths (alliteration's always fun!) I finally found a room with a mauled body strewn about with some goods on the ground. Checking the treasure chest after though I found there was nothing. Nothing until it animated itself and lunged at me! Not wanting to be eaten and unsure how strong it was I asked for Chauntea's strength one last time there and had a greater elemental smack that thing into pieces. IN the end, we defeated it and I managed to collect wonderful books, as well as the Banite's equipment which I do plan to offer as tribute to our Great Mother. 1500 to go, a few hundred thousand left until I can get dad that sword at Seths! A shame the mimic had a taste for Chauntean flesh as well, were it to only attack the Banite if I found out it was a mimic and it didn't attack me I may have spared it! Hopefully it thought I was tastier at least than the nasty person that got mauled.

Post updated with First and Second Half of the Year - 1st half taken from DM Forums 2nd Half of the Year is at the end of the thread, after all the excellent info from Wyv on deity festivals

Schools & Meditations. -=- Sitting in the Zazen position as one Meditates. -=- -=- Sitting on heels, without kneeling. -=- In the Kara-Tur (lands to the far east) there are faiths based on the Cult of the Ancestors, and paths that lead to the Enlightenment (Enlightenment is the Full Development of one's Mind). Both are very popular and have quite the nubers of practicioneers. Since the first Enlightened One in our Era, many ways leading to Enlightenment were discovered, and many Schools appeared, each with different methods leading to the same goal (the Enlightenment). Among the many paths leading to Enlightenment, the most popular are two: Tantric practices, based on Identification with the Teacher, and on Meditations in the Lotus or Half-Lotus positions, Sutra practices, based on studying the Enlightening Lore and on Meditations in the Zazen position. There are also 'lesser' Schools that lead to the lesser form of the Enlightenment, called: 'Liberation'. After the Liberation (from one's suffering), one can develop the Mind further and reach the Enlightenment anyway. Even in the Tantric and Sutra Schools, one reaches Liberation first, before reaching the Enlightenment. It's said that the fastest Way to Enlightenment is Tantra, then Sutra... with 'lesser' Schools being considering easiest but the most time-consuming of the Ways. Many mistake the Zazen sitting position with kneeling, but in fact it's sitting on one's heels, not the kneeling as is practiced in Religions of Faith during their prayers. I was introduced mostly to the Sutras and the Zazen meditations, in the School called: 'Zen'. Meditation turns the theoretical lore one learns, into the experiences felt. Meditation brings out calmness, peace, serenity and focus to one's life path. In my case, it allows me to stay calm, brave and focused in fight. It also encourages me to be more peaceful. When I worship deities as Tempus, Kenji or Red Knight, I become more fierce. Faith makes me hostile, and meditation makes me peaceful. When one has body and mind trained, prepared for combat, the fights resemble the chess game. One observes the opponent, makes decisions, and speaks Mantras in Mind. Then the body follows, automatically executing the maneuvers and strikes. Repetitions of techniques trains one's Body, Meditation trains one's Mind. And - of course - studying the Sutra texts and doing the Meditations leads me to the Enlightenment, but that will happen probably in future lives (we believe in Reincarnations). Meanwhile it's still beneficial, as it makes me a better warrior. -- Kenna, Spiritual Warrioress, Always in Training.