3. Of the Bond Between Dwarves and Elves

Of the Bond Between Dwarves and Elves


  • At the behest of Fir’rethsar travelled scouts wishing to honour The Mystic Seer. From an ancient text they followed a mithral trail walked by others of the People in times long past.

    Under the Luminous Cloud moved they through a great frozen forest in which snow stirred to attack. Having fought through the northern snow, the scouts sanctified bodies of their kin locked in death throws of centuries past by the Fury’s cold.

    When snowy skirmishes ended so too did the mirthral trail when goblin arrows tore holes in those of the moon. Some lay desecrated where they fell.

    Within an ancient mine the fate of others was to be less kind. Sparkles of mined-out mirthral gleam from behind the spider images that festoon the walls. Severed parts of the elves boil in the foul green liquid of a cauldron guarded by driders and poised to release its rank contents into an ancient tomb.

    The stone sarcophagus bedecked in elven runes has been honoured by a dwarven protector since the burial. In damaged script of old Espruar is written in the style of a dwarven saga:

    Here lies F…........... last of the lords of this place......et out together , bridging the gap....we near prevailed... darkness from the depths.

    Within is the ancient and aged body of an elf amidst the grave goods of a dwarven burial.

    In Sehanine Moonbow's name shall we delve deep in that place that we might reveal the mystery of what occurred.

    ((Morgoth))


  • Myth Revain

    It was a dark and stormy night that the delvers gathered in the docks.

    A classical adventure start, but not until daybreak did the ship leave port. The elegant ship skimmed across the lake, its sapphire-encrusted sails catching a wind seemingly nowhere else but on them.

    Her crew less elegant than the ship.

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    Cook Captain Perriwig P. Doubleday.

    Sy’wyn Cook’s Ship, carrying all boxes the cook commands.

    Rith, Executioner and Chief Bucket Lass, appointed Captain over the Ship as a Floating Bucket by the mutinous rankster!

    Aelthas’ Parrot – The Assistant General Severed Limb Carrier in Extremis, Chief Bellydancer Eluriel.

    Gilda Ship's Surgeon in Ordinary (Third Class) the Stand Up Comedienne.

    Chief SlaveDriverDrummer Lycka, Cat Wrangler and Lice Comber.

    Fadia Ship’s Slave, Ship’s Cat, Ship’s Avian Life Form and Mutinous Rankster!

    Meril the Ship’s Vermin Infestation.

    Chief Ballast Vander charged to be as heavy as he can even while fulfilling his role as Ship’s Butcher.

    Social Secretary C’Tan, and under him:

    Hammerhand the Ship Entertainer and Chief Clown.

    Aelthas, Comfortin’ Lad for the entire female crew.

    And all of them Counterfeit Cow Smugglers, for shame!

    First to Elshar, that he might have the key to Dain Axesmith’s resting place. The Ironstars have been most industrious - having cleared the rubble-product of the disruption of the Balorgate and progressed their plan to return the ancient city to past glory. Soon Faern Samman’s location will be announced by a grand entrance.

    The ancient forest around Myth Revain is not ‘right’. Still and calm with an oppressive gloom as if natural light is being drained away from the living. The orcs living there do not seem to mind overly much, but to the elves and druids at least it feels wrong.

    A great tree, tall and ancient, is surrounded by another three which glow softly with an inner light. But alongside sucking the magics from them, and light from all around, stands a pillar of demonic make. Better leave well alone – clause 1(a) in effect.

    Massive trees reach into the dark skies of the ancient forest of elves and ruins of their settlement jut from the earth. A shrine to the Seladrine stands as welcome, a soft glow emanating from the structure that while weathered has stood firm against the efforts of orcs to destroy it.

    Myth Revain. Its entrance opening into an ancient elven hall lost long to the ages. Like its twin Faern Samman, crumbled stone work obscures much of the beauty of its creation. Once its walls festooned with huge bright tapestries, only pale strands yet remain.

    It seems that many of the golems made in the human tower were gifted to the elves in the spirit of co-operation. But these folk are not their old masters and so the ancient halls and rooms echo with the sounds of fighting, - lending an odd quality to the place. The harshness of the noise seem out of place in the remarkable elven structure.

    Deeper lie maddened spirits much as those from the village and barrows. With each new level the remains of beauty become ever more marred by the sense of oppression.

    The twisty winding corridors of the fourth and deepest level led towards the great chamber which played host to the mythal. There, the massive abyssal spider who was Mistress to Asto'romaya Beleg, she who is responsible for the great tragedies.

    Named Elsie, centuries bound inside the mythal wards with little to do but feed on its magics made her slow to react. And so was she banished back to the abyss.

    Relics were recovered for Evermeet, and the third of the Mythal shards dug from the spider’s belly.

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    Blessing of Creation

    "The Tel'Quessir are both wardens and sculptors of magic's end less mysteries. Through Art and Craft, bring forth the beauty that envelops and let the spirit gambol unfettered. The song of joy and the dance of freedom shall ever soar on the wings of those who dare take flight. Guard against the slow death of stultifying sameness by seeking out new experiences and new ways. Ward against those who seek only to destroy in their inability to create and commune with the natural and mystical world. Be ever vigilant in force of arms and might of magic against any return of the banished darkness, and also be strong in heart against the corruption from within which allowed the Spider Queen to foment the chaos and evil of the Crown Wars."

    The Creator of the Elves embodies the highest ideals of elvenkind, and he is the patron of most aesthetic endeavours, including art, magic, music, poetry, and warfare.

    Corellon Larethian is a powerful warrior god whose hands protect his creations with the gentleness of a sculptor and the unspeakable power of a master sword swinger. Though his martial might is swift and terrible, the soft-spoken Protector is ever humble and always open to learning something new, one of his sources of might. He enjoys discovering new philosophies of thought and new methods of action, even from mortals, and he has a keen interest in other cultures.

    Faernsuora are defenders, teachers, and diplomats.

    Many of Corellon's clergy serve in the armed forces of their home; defending elven lands and training their fellow elves in combat skills and magic.

    Others work closely with artisans instructing them in the skills they need to create works of wondrous beauty, as well as using their own creative talents in similar pursuits.

    Members of Corellon's priesthood are often called upon to act as diplomats and arbitrators between the various clergies, the various subraces of elves, the various classes of elven society, and even between elven communities. While they rarely serve as leaders or councillors, many work behind the scenes towards harmony.

    This is a necklace of great beauty. A crescent moon pendant hangs suspended from a slender chain at collar bone length. From the silvery metal shines the subtle blue glow of mithral lunate. The moon is hammered and polished to reflect light in every direction. The chain is one of intricate make; twisted teardrop-shape links have been woven through oval ones to produce a slim length of great visual texture.

    Speaking the command, "Foqal drii raxoll" brings forth an air elemental to fight alongside Corellon's faithful, as it does him.

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    Paramour’s Masquerade

    "Life is worth living because of the beauty found in the world and the love that draws twin hearts together. Nurture what is beautiful in life, and let beauty's glow enliven and brighten the lives of those around you. The greatest joy is the rapture of newfound love and the tide of romance that sweeps over those wrapped in its embrace. Seek out and care for love wherever it takes root and bring it to its fullest bloom so that all may share in the joy and beauty it creates. Always give shelter and succour to young lovers, for their hearts are the truest guides to life's proper course."

    Hanali Celanil is a being of timeless beauty and benign nature, who always forgives minor transgressions and delights in rewarding her followers with the bliss of unexpected love and affection. She embodies romance, beauty, love, and joy in elven spirits.

    Members of Hanali's clergy spend their days cultivating beauty and love in all their myriad forms. They are always finely dressed; displaying one's personal beauty to its best advantage is a requirement of every priest of the Heart of Gold. They pride themselves on the stunning beauty of what they wear.

    This is a Paramour's sculpted half-mask with mouth, nose and eyes open to the air. The clear crystal it's made from is so very sheer that it acts only to enhance the natural glow of the wearer's skin. A golden rose beauty spot adorns the right cheek.

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    Hawkeye Bow

    "Solonor Thelandira is the elven god of hunting, archery, and survival in wild and harsh places. The Great Archer's prowess with the bow is unmatched by any other power venerated in the Realms. Solonor is concerned with the integrity of nature and the balance between exploitation and agriculture on one hand and fallow, wild terrains on the other."

    Solonor despises powers that favour despoliation over nature, and actively opposes the efforts of such gods and their followers. Unlike many hunters, the Forest Hunter stalks prey only out of concern for the overall balance between species and to destroy evil-doers. Keen Eye does not close to do battle with an enemy, but tracks and pursues instead, firing arrows from a never-empty quiver.

    Solonor's priests serve as scouts and archers in elven armies, as bowyers, fletchers, and archery instructors in elven settlements, and as hunters and providers for far-flung rural communities. Hawkeyes serve him also by working to maintain the balance of nature. They are deadly enemies of those who worship Malar or Talos, and they often join forces with those who serve the Leaflord in order to exterminate followers of those evil gods whenever they make their presence known.

    Elves live long enough that they don't want to risk their lives on an insignificant issue.

    This is one of the reasons why elves have become legendary for their skill with the bow; it keeps their foes at a safe distance, affording the elf little danger

    The elven bow is a beautiful piece of work. Carved mostly from wood, it is highly decorated and polished, with substantial metal inlays which allow its use as a parrying weapon until the elf can draw something more suitable.

    This particular bow is of unusual appearance. Its black-stained stave is much broader and deeper than commonly seen. Metal which has been brushed dull ornaments its full length. Drawing this bow requires great focus.

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    Halycon Wings

    "The ever-changing reaches of the sky are the great gift of the Winged Mother. Take flight into her windswept embrace, and gambol amidst the ever-changing clouds. Honour those who dwell with the Lady of Air and Wind and cherish the birds who dance on her tresses. In change there is beauty and in chaos there is the birth of new life. Ascend, soar, glide, dive, and ascend again and relish in the freedom that the Winged Mother bequeaths. The air is the breath of life."

    Goddess of the air, weather, and birds, Aerdrie Faenya is the elven expression of freedom and impulse. She dislikes being tied down to any one place for too long. The Queen of the Avariel delights in the sound of wind instruments and in creating unpredictable atmospheric conditions, including severe thunderstorms on occasion, but her primary joy is simply feeling the air rush past her with the ground far below.

    Few of Aerdrie's followers are capable of flight without magical aid. Some raise winged steeds to carry them to visit the avian races that good relations may be maintained. Others work to create new spells and items by which magical flight is possible.

    This sky blue cloak trimmed in white feathers was designed to be worn over the darker robes of a high ranking Winged Brother or Sister. Its decorative mithral neck-fastening is imbued with spells from among those enjoyed by the goddess. Spinning a very fast circle can release Chain Lightning. Grabbing the cloak in both hands and billowing it out behind you can produce a Gust of Wind.

    But its greatest magic is rarely seen by observers. One each day, when the wearer launches themselves forwards onto a Gust of Wind the cloak may grant Air Walk.

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    Sunset Sage Staff

    "The march of time is inexorable, but the blessings of the Lifegiver enable the children of Corellon to live long and fruitful lives, unmarked by the passage of years. Record and preserve the lessons of history, and draw lessons from that which has unfolded. In the end, the sun always sets before the next day dawns anew. When you follow Labelas' teachings, time is on your side."

    Labelas Enoreth is the elven god of longevity and time. He is philosopher and patient teacher. As Lord of the Continuum, Labelas governs the orderly passage of time and guards against those who would alter the path of history.

    At the creation of the Fair Folk, Labelas blessed the elves with long lifespans and decreed that their appearances would not be marked by the passage of time. He measures the lives of the Fair Folk and decrees when they should be ended, allowing passage to Arvandor. The Lifegiver knows the fortune and past of every elf, faerie, or sylvan creature.

    Labelas confers wisdom and teachings on young and old alike. He is worshiped by sages, historians, philosophers, librarians, and all those who measure the changes wrought by the passing of years.

    Time Sentinels are the keepers of elven history and lore, and they are charged with searching for hidden facts of the past. They compile and protect such sacred knowledge and record it for the instruction of future generations. They are also philosophers and teachers themselves, responsible for promoting and acquiring knowledge.

    This staff shines with the deep purples of a sunset. It is well capable of protecting its wielder. While of sturdy make, it is also able to channel the magic of time. At its top is a semi-circular gold disk carved to resemble a setting sun. Spin it clockwise for time speeded and backwards for time slowed. Hold it high in the air to stop time in one place.


  • ((thanks to Karni for the help on this one))

    Below Faern Samman

    The King of the Ironstars greeted the party in a pose worthy of being recorded.

    The stout, grimly proud figure of Elshar Deepdelve standing with one foot on the pile of dead monstrosities created in clearing the Mithral Halls, a dwarven waraxe dripping with blood resting on his strong, metal-clad shoulder.

    He spoke of the old alliance, and the House of Stone.

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    The House of Stone

    Once, there was a place, a great place, a beautiful elven forest filled with light and beauty. A wondrous dwarven city above, and a human settlement alongside these. Three Kings governed this place, each ruling equally, and there were two dukes, a gnome and a halfling. They worked together for many, many years.

    An elf calls the deepest wood his home,
    A human everywhere may roam,
    But a dwarf just wants a house of stone.

    This was back when the races were united. The Ironstars were a clan that saw that the old hatreds needed quenching - but an evil came to them, and the place fell. All hope was lost, until now.

    He lead through the puzzling maze of tunnels that end in the Mithril hall, its gleaming silver-white shining now as anew. Soon to the mining well, and down, ever down.

    Below levels carved by dwarves, the walls are hewn rough by unskilled hands. The crude carved words of the ogre kin adorn them. The ogres home is filled with bone and blood. Deep in Toril now, ancient rock formations glisten in the light. Sadly, so too the remains of many a dwarf, wrought into memory of the earth by the slow drip of ages. Their ancient, calcite covered remains, stretch before the eye.

    The lost Ironstar clan.

    Danger. Written on the wall.

    Thoror’s Bane, aflame. A mighty Balor, wreathed in dark fire. Hard-fought victory.

    But no. Around its corpse great pillars of flame and darkness rose from the living earth, their runes burning the eyes. This a pulsing summoning portal giving energy to the demon, to rise again until the abyssal gate finally closed.

    With a shriek the lights dimmed; an ancient and dark cry of the deepest imaginable malevolence to assault the mind.

    The last relics of the lost Ironstars returned to their heirs.
    The dwarven shard of the mythal claimed.
    And a gift sent to the Queen of the Elves.

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    Gleaming Sash

    “The secrets of the world are waiting to be revealed. Travel widely, broaden your mind at every opportunity, and pursue the life of a scholar. Cultivate the spirit of inquiry among the young and be a teacher to all. Seek to recover the lost and/or arcane knowledge of ages past and apply it in the world of today. Try new methods of doing things just for the joy of experimenting. Learn a little of everything, for you never know what might be of use down the road."

    Dugmaren Brightmantle is the patron of dwarven scholars and the embodiment of the chaotic and exploratory spirit that consumes some of the Stout Folk. He is venerated by scholars, inventors, engineers, tinkers, and fiddlers. His worshipers are consumed with the acquiring of knowledge simply for its own sake rather than for any practical purpose. Dugmaren attracts those free-thinkers who want to create something truly new, not a variation on an old theme.

    Dugmaren is a benign, inquisitive, cheerful, and optimistic deity concerned with discovering the unknown. He is an inveterate acquirer of trivia and little-used knowledge, an experimenter and a fiddler. The Wandering Tinker sometimes dispatches an avatar to act as an unseen guide for dwarven scholars and travelers, protecting them in their searches and providing hints on where to look for knowledge.

    Seekers of Truth and Mystery spend their days in scholarly pursuits, seeking to learn, teach, and advance nearly every field of knowledge even marginally interesting to the dwarven race. Many Seekers of Truth and Mystery serve as instructors to the young, while others record and archive current dwarven practices for future generations. Dugmaren's clergy members travel widely, seeking new experiences, new ideas, and the recovery of lost dwarven lore.

    A vibrant blue sash, the width of a hand. It is studded with silver lockets grafted to resemble open books. Inside of these in homage to Dugmaren may be kept small pieces of lore

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    Truesilver Rings

    “The Children of Moradin are shaped on the Soul Forge and ever warmed by the embrace of the Revered Mother. Tend the hearth and home, drawing strength and safety from truth, tradition, and the rule of law. Join with friends, kin, and clan in common purpose. Do not succumb to the misery of greed or the evils of strife, but always bring hope, health, and cheer to those in need. Once an oath is made, Berronar watches over its keeping - to break it is to grieve her sorely. Children must be cherished and guarded well from harm, for they are future of the race."

    Berronar Truesilver is the bride of Moradin. The Revered Mother is the defender and protector of the home - not a passive homebody. She is seen as the patron of marriage and love, and her name is often invoked in small home rituals for protection against thieves and duplicity. Berronar is also the goddess of healing. Lawful good dwarves who value their families, clans, and the common strength and security of dwarven society revere her for her caring and loving service to the entire race. All dwarves of any alignment who seek a safe refuge or who want their loved ones or relatives kept safe offer her appeasement as well.

    The indomitable Mother Goddess of the dwarves is ever forgiving of her children, be they mortal or divine. Berronar has a ready, hearty laugh and a merry disposition, but she never wavers in the face of adversity or despairs in times of great loss. She can be strict or even fierce, if the situation so demands.

    Berronar's priests serve as the guardians and protectors of dwarven clans. The members of Berronar's clergy strive to further the good health and good character of all dwarves. They heal the sick and injured, attempt to treat, eradicate, and stop the spread of disease and develop antidotes to poisons which can afflict dwarves.

    Priests of Berronar never ignore a dwarf in need of aid, and they always help to the best of their ability. If a Revered Sister or Brother lacks magical means of curing, she or he finds someone who can heal or provide all the nonmagical care possible. The duty of a priest of Berronar is to keep every dwarf alive, whatever the cost.

    Twin, interlocking, large silver rings, worn on a steel chain hung around the neck. Twist the right towards someone as antidote or the left to remove disease. Press both together then towards the afflicted if you're not quite sure what's wrong.

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    Wanderer’s Boots

    "If the Children of Moradin are to survive as a race, they must adapt, grow, and learn to dwell in harmony with other good races, particularly humans. The Stout Folk must be encouraged to emerge from the illusory safety of their hidden delves and find true security in fellowship with humankind and demihumankind. Help fellow wanders and sojourners in the world, giving all that is needful. Guide those who are lost and guard those who are defenseless. Seek out new ways and new paths, and discover the wide world in your wanderings. Herald the way of newfound hope."

    Marthammor is the protector of dwarves who make their lives in human society in the North, rather than keeping to mountain or deep-delve enclaves. Commonly known as Wanderers, all such dwarves make offerings to him in appeasement for good fortune. Marthammor is the patron of adventurers and explorers and all those dwarves who travel or live far from the dwarven homelands, allowing them to find routes to escape or to victory in their travels.

    Marthammor is open and friendly, and he's definitely curious what lies over the next horizon. He has a keen interest in the doings of the multiverse as a whole, and he is far friendly with other races than most dwarves or their deities.

    Watchful Eyes make marked trails in the wilderness northlands of the Realms. They also establish way-caches of food and wilderness supplies along these trails. Priests of Marthammor patrol these trails, healing and guiding dwarves they meet, providing a warm fire, a hot meal, and friendly companionship to exhausted, lonely, lost or hurt dwarves-of any faith or race.

    The Wanderer's clergy work with healers and priests of all races to help dwarves, allies, and companions of dwarves. There are in a sense, adventurers themselves; often fighting monsters, discovering ruins, and facing the same perils.

    Particularly in blizzards and storms. his servants may appear to dwarves or dwarven allies and companions lost on trails, abandoned delves, and mountain passes. They guide the travelers along a safe route to their destination or other refuge.

    Magically comfortable grey boots with buckles of metallic maroon. If you meet an injured traveller simply touch them with one hand and the fastenings of one of your boost with the other. In doing so, may you find fellowship with other wanderers.

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    Dancing Slippers

    "Be merciful in speech and deed. Bring relief and healing where needful. Temper anger and hostility with constructive and charitable endeavour. The children of Moradin must live in safety and propagate. Maintain and encourage the traditional rites of courting and marriage. Celebrate the endless, joyous dance of life by living it to the fullest. Sharindlar restores the fertile seed of dwarven life, while Berronar protects the fruit."

    Sharindlar the Merciful is widely known as the dwarven goddess of healing and mercy. Dwarves wounded in battle are often healed in her name. Sick dwarves, dwarven healers, midwives, physics, and lovers pray to the Lady of Life. However, her aspect kept secret from nondwarves is her most important modern role: her patronage of romantic love, courtship, and fertility. When dwarves dance, they pray to Sharindlar to guide their feet, for she is said to be the greatest dancer the dwarves have ever known.

    Sharindlar is invariably warm and caring with a kind word for all, both mortal and divine. She is given to shouts of joy, impromptu dances, and gales of uncontrollable laughter. The Lady of Life is an inveterate match-maker and true romantic who seeks to conjoin star-crossed lovers no matter what the odds. More than one favoured dwarven bachelor or maiden has been swept up in a series of whirlwind affairs, thanks to the unceasing efforts of the Shining Dancer to provide the perfect mate.

    The traditional duties of Sharindlar's clergy include dispensing healing and mercy to dwarves and other individuals in need. As dwarven birthrates slowly decline and the ranks of the Stout Folk shrink, particularly among the shield dwarves of the North, priests in Sharindlar's service devote most of their energy to reverse these trends, with the assistance of Berronar's clergy.

    The Merciful Maidens/Youths have focused on maintaining and teaching dwarven courting rites: traditional dances, ritual forms of address, and the like. They strive to bring young dwarves together, engendering likely matches, particularly outside the traditional clans, hoping to increase the number of prolific unions. Sharindlar's oversight of fertility has been to include agriculture and animal husbandry.

    Red, with a springy robin's-egg-blue sole, these shoes are made for dancing and cavorting. If attacked, crouch down and kick forward once with each leg. Flames will rise around your body as armour. Clothing vanishes, reappearing unharmed as the flames die.

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    Orc Bane

    "The Soul Forger is the father and creator of the dwarven race. By seeking to emulate both his principles and his workmanship in smithcraft, stoneworking, and other tasks, the Children of Moradin honor the All-Father. Wisdom is derived from life tempered with experience. Advance the dwarven race in all areas of life. Innovate with new processes and skills, and test and work them until they are refined and pure. Found new kingdoms and clan lands, defending those that already exist from internal and external threats. Lead the Stout Folk in the traditional ways laid down by the Soul Forger. Honour your clan leaders as you honour Moradin."

    Moradin is the creator god of the dwarven race and leader of the Morndinsamman. He is said to have created all dwarves, forging them from metals and gems in the fires that lie at the "heart of the world," and breathing life-the first dwarven souls-into the cooling forms. His name is invoked by dwarves involved in smithwork or craftsmanship of any sort, and they give him homage by doing their best work and seeking to emulate his stonework and craftsmanship.

    Moradin is said to inspire dwarven inventions and seeks constantly to improve the race-increasing dwarven good nature, intelligence, and ability to exist in harmony with other living things. At the same time, he battles the pride and isolationist tendencies that occur naturally in his elite creations.

    Moradin is a stern and uncompromising defender of the dwarven people and of the principles of law and good and a harsh but fair judge. The Soul Forger is strength and force of will embodied. He judges dwarves on their achievements and the success of their endeavours, not just on their good hearts.

    Moradin charges his followers with the task of removing the kingdoms of orcs. Priests of Moradin strive to restore the dwarven races to strong numbers and a position of influence in Faerun, by founding new dwarven kingdoms and increasing the status of dwarves in the Realms today. They preside over a wide range of formal ceremonies and the education of the young, especially in the teaching of history. They maintain genealogies and historical archives. Adventuring is encouraged in the priesthood, but only adventuring that directly serves the interests of the dwarven race.

    This is a large, silvered warhammer. Dethek runes etched deeply into the long handle read:

    "The dwarves shall prevail, the dwarves shall endure, the dwarves shall grow."

    The path now leads to Myth Revain. Somewhere inside its mythal-barriers lies an evil beyond the comprehension of mortals.


  • The Ironstar clan we know delved deeply below. And found many grand places in the depths of the lands As the elves realised their error and fell to the great darkness the dwarves spoke of another evil that came upon them from the depths.

    The bane of the dwarf lord. A foe they could not beat. A foe they were not prepared for. Hundreds fell.

    As they readied to aid The People above this evil came to them a sudden, from below.

    It was allowed in. Asto'romaya beleg had enchanted the mythal pieces in the dark and secret ways of his kind. Thus to them came their doom

    A darkness came from the Abyss and crawled into the hearts of those in the lands through Asto'romaya beleg. He was her agent whatever she is. There was no Hellish method just the lust for the power of the Mythal He was fearful to bring it forth and it drove him insane

    Something yet lingers in the dark places of Toril

    What this Mistress is we do not know. His mistress was feeding upon his very essence. He was doomed to play his part. Bound to her. His spirit absorbed by whatever shadow lies in the depths of Myth Revain. His mistress there?

    The humans had fallen first.

    The humans had created a version of a Mythal. They were the mages, highly skilled in the arcane. With the aid of the dwarves and The People they used part of the understanding to channel the geothermic energies. The crystal in the base of the tower.

    It was not a Mythal proper. It also harnessed the odd radiation of the Underdark. And the darkness swept in.


  • The sail is long under Rail'kansunelal Neldth'Teasen'Mitor’s guidance. Made longer still by the pervasive melancholy of song and saga both. Such an air of depression that while one Dawnbringer refuses to listen, the other looks set to jump from the boat.

    The mood not lightened with news of the expedition. To a village thought to be near Myth Revain. Once, madness swept through it for the creation of allips. No elf could let this be the fate of another.

    Freedom of spirit is essential to entering Arvandor. Death in madness is among those few things which inflict true oblivion upon those once an elf.

    If an elf suffers a fatal accident or is murdered, their body lies cold and useless, their spirit cast out and swallowed by the nameless void surrounding them - unless their remains are returned to their homeland. But where if there are no remains? If the spirit is not utterly destroyed, Sehanine's priests may serve in the stead of the one now dead in the ritual of Transcendence. In a Ceremony of Recovery the priest channels the lost spirit through his or her own link with Sehanine, enabling the spirit of the elf to live on forevermore in Arvandor. But the spirit must first be free.

    The village is ages lost. Central stone buildings in poor repair are surrounded by tree dwellings long since fallen to wrack and ruin. Restless spirits roam through overgrown streets, their cries of despair filling the air. Songs of madness fill the air as the spirits roam in endless agony.

    Something caused great pain here. Sorrowful songs in elven fill the air, yearnings for Arvandor and the west expressed in haunting cries in the midst of madness. One by one are the spirits slain until silence fills the village.

    Past it, dark shadows move in the hillsides around elven burial mounds.

    Dank air in the barrow reeks of death. Cries of madness and mindless agony fill the dark crypts as the trapped spirits attack anything that lives.

    Someone, as they fled, left their meager supplies for those who would come after. The aid of Sehanine and the Seldarine.

    Lost to the Night and the darkness our people flee, blessed release oh folk of Arvandor.
    Never trust the Northern Winds.

    (And never turn your back on friend.)

    On and on through the madness. And then to its source>

    Asto'romaya Beleg.
    Betrayer in more ways than one.

    One who was born drow but strived to live as Ssri'Quessir under the glamour of Ar`Quessir.

    Now dead.
    Undead perhaps since the Alliance's fall.
    Maddened as the rest.
    His withered dead face etched with tears of blood.

    The inscription on his tomb his own:

    Betrayer by Birth
    Lost to madness I carve my own tomb
    Oh for the moon my sign of hope
    It brought hope and also lies

    The betrayer had himself been betrayed. But there is more than he knew to this. Seldar would lie no more than an elf would.

    Inside his tomb a piece of the mythal and powerful elven artifacts.

    @5a81e64906:

    Dreamer's Vestments

    Life is series of mysteries whose secrets are veiled by the Luminous Cloud. As the spirit transcends its mortal bounds and new mysteries are uncovered, a higher form is achieved and the cycle of life continues. Through contemplation and meditation, communion with the Lady of Dreams is achieved. Through dreams, visions, and omens revealed in sleep or the reverie, the Daughter of the Night Sky unveils the next step along the path and the next destination on the endless journey of mystic wonder that is life and death and life. Revere the mysterious moon, who draws forth tides or being from us all."

    Sehanine Moonbow manifests through dreams and waking visions. She grants boons only to worshipers who enter an altered state of awareness, whether it be through meditation, dance, or trance.

    These are the silvery-white vestments of a Heavenly; the seers and mystics of elven society. They aid her faithful to transcend their mortal bounds to a state where they can hear her clear.

    The mirror-bright moonstone clasp of the silvery cloth belt sash bears a powerful enchantment. Though touching this can an elf gain Sehanine's favour. And with it an opaque milky crescent forms on the elf's iris; the moonbow of Sehanine's honorific name.

    @5a81e64906:

    Heart of the Oak

    "The Great Oak draws energy from all the living creatures of the world and nourishes, sustains, and protects them from outside threats. Live in harmony with the natural world, allowing each living being the opportunity to serve out its natural purpose in life. As the Leaflord's countless branches, his faithful are to serve as his mortal agents in the natural world. Defend the great forests from those who would ravage their riches, leaving only destruction in their path. Contest both the quick and the slow death of Rillifane's bounty and hold strong like the great oaks in the face of those who can see only their own immediate needs."

    Rillifane Rallathil is protector of the woodlands and guardian of the harmony of nature. He is often likened by his priests to a giant ethereal oak tree, so huge that its roots mingle with the roots of every other plant in the Realms. The Leaflord's primary concern is that all creatures have the opportunity to act out their roles in nature. The Great Tree defends and sustains the woodlands against disease, predation, and assaults of all kinds.

    This wooden links of this belt are decorated with carved oak leaves, stained green. The buckle is an acorn carved in two parts which screw to fasten. Turning them tight releases the magic which gives Rillifane's faithful their bark armour.


  • Faern Samman, a lost city of the Ironstar clan.

    The Ironstars is a clan long thought to have become extinct when the Fallen Kingdom passed away. There were rumours that some few dwarves bearing the Ironstar name have a secret hold – caverns on Mintarn, perhaps, or beneath Mount Helimbrar, or even in Evereska, allied with the elves still in that misty, mysterious land – somewhere in the Realms. The Ironstar clan sign is (or was) a four pointed white star gleaming atop a rugged black anvil. Also seen on the walls of Faern Samman in many places is a series of Dethek runes repeated:

    'An elf calls the deepest wood his own
    A human everywhere may roam
    But a Dwarf just wants a house of stone'

    Excavation began, that their song might be sang.

    Saga of Faern Samman

    “Here in lies the saga of Thoror Ironstar King of Faern Samman:
    lo did we travel the long road and seas with our companions,
    Ii'Ny ‘wyn’onna King of the Elven kind,
    Zerestan wise council of the short-lived folk,
    Embattled we were in the west,
    Our forces spent we sought new sanctuary and to continue the alliance.

    To the north we fled, words from the one called Asto'romaya Beleg
    Told us sanctuary may be found in the cold lands,
    The magics we held each race its own could conquer the cold and make us new home,
    So across dessert lands and endless seas we travelled ever north, ever east.

    To the place we found at last, and hope sprung in our hearts,
    The lands were filled with ore and home could be carved within these rocks,
    The elven folk looked dismayed at the icy land that no forest grew,
    Then so subtly Asto'romaya Beleg, bid them,
    Recall the Mythals and their power,
    So with the aid of all, we sought to create a place of harmony.

    Our magics weaved a great source to aid,
    And flourished green the lands,
    The human hands built and refined great tools that aid us mine,
    We delved and carved and made halls anew,
    Each to honour our clan and friends,
    Above our heads the elves made the lands again,
    Green and warm for them to tred.

    Upon the wise words of Asto'romaya Beleg,
    Three crystal shards of the Mythal were made,
    Each race to hold one peace to show our trust,
    So no one race would control,
    The power that let us reside.

    Oh how we learned our fate,
    Tricked and deceived by powers of hate,
    Devided the power was, thus doomed to fall,
    Darkness crept into our lands,
    Finding its way through the cracks in our defense,
    Cracks caused by cracks in our trust.

    Asto'romaya Beleg softly counciled to each of the Kings,
    To bear to no trust of each others kind,
    Soon we became separate like a hammer lost from its haft,
    We were directionless and without aid.

    The Darkness came upon us fast,
    We learned the Mistress of Asto'romaya Beleg,
    The mistress of her own lust,
    Promised she was the power of the Mythal,
    To feed upon and consume the light of our alliance.

    Too late we realised this doom,
    Ii'Ny ‘wyn’onna came to our hall,
    Told of the Tel'Quessir’s soon to fall,
    Darkness had overtaken their city,
    A great shadow moved through their land.

    They warned us to flee,
    In honour of all that had gone before,
    The Elves swore in see us free
    “Oh old friend Thoror, we have lost all hope and our people fall,
    we shall not see you the same. Flee your Mithril hall, the Tel'Quessir shall,
    In debt to our distrust slow this enemy. We shall see you all one day in a Golden Hall”
    With that he turned to face the great foe,
    Seeking to save our people,
    I saw as he turned tears in his golden eyes,
    Burned my heart as he and his people fell to save our own.

    What debt we cannot repay,
    Yet doom came to our hall,
    From the dark Asto'romaya Beleg sent,
    A Foe beyond our skills.

    With this our Line here dies,
    Three Kings, Three lines, three tales of sorrow."

    The beautiful alliance betrayed to harness the power of a mythal.

    Let the lessons of the past be learned that it never happen again.

    Passage deeper is under excavation. Warily. Runes of a date later then the settlement warn of danger.


  • One more into the breach, dear friends.

    Passage cleared to delve even deeper into the dark reaches of Toril's earth.

    Within a dwarven hewn cavern, light flickers off the mithril and sapphire inlays on the wall. Other precious metals decorate other caverns, though the once fine work is dimmed through the ages. Deeper and deeper.

    Deeper to a level which seems to have fared better. Its glistening walls are free of underdark moss and more or less intact. The skill and beauty of Dwarven craft is evident all around. Forwards. To what appears to have been a great dwarven city. Intricacy of inlays on its walls speaks of great wealth and long forgotten glory.

    A magnificent city. Huge. Some of it breathtaking. The sculpture. The runes.

    But that portion alone. For again age has wreaked havoc on the levels below. There are two statue chambers. Neither bears the hallmark of a temple, though one honours a selection of dwarven deities, for the likenesses of Moradin, Gorm, Clangeddin and Marthammer can be made out. Finely wrought, but lashed by the elements. The second chamber is yet more damaged. Heroes or kings in this one. Each stands looking down, all different in aspect; one in robes, one in battle with giants, another delving deep into a cave. But many of the images are now lost to time. So too all of the names.

    Except, Faern Samman, this inscription seen throughout the city. Home of honoured friends.

    Finally, winding passages ever downwards open into a grand chamber. What a sight. The great dwarven hall glistens and gleams with the finest of crafts and materials. Pillars of rock rich in precious metals stand regularly spaced as if perhaps themselves decoration.

    The duergar's passage from the depths unimportant for now.

    Focus is a pillar whose writings are mirthal all.
    Weary travellers take rest in the hall and drink in its splendor
    A shelf cut into this bearing dust-shrouded objects, which were taken to the surface.

    Fir'rethsar recognises the relics as three of those sought by Elshar Deepdelver. Said to represent gods and an alliance of followers of certain gods. Others are yet missing.

    @3d55887f80:

    Keeper's Lantern

    "Walk the deep and silent ways of Dumathoin. Seek out the hidden gifts of the Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain. That which is hidden is precious, and that which is precious shall stay hidden. Seek to enhance the natural beauty of Dumathoin's gifts and go with, not against, the contours of the deeps. Beauty is in the discovery and the Grafting, not the holding. Keep the places of our dead inviolate and well tended; the noble ancestor of our race will neither be robbed nor mocked through the actions of thieves and defilers. Abide not undead creatures, especially those that take the form of dwarves, thus mocking the creation of Moradin."

    Dumathoin is the Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain, and he hides the secrets of the earth until deserving and diligent dwarves are ready to be guided to them. He lays veins of iron, copper, gold, silver, and mithral where he feels they will best benefit his followers. He watches over the safety and security of miners of all races.

    He shapes natural caverns of great beauty, studded with rich and beautiful deposits of shining metals and glittering outcroppings of crystalline gems. The finely Grafted items the dwarves produce from the ores they mine please, flatter, and awe him.

    The Silent Keeper frowns, however, on clumsy or crude rockcutting that does not smooth the earth, follow the natural flows, and highlight the individual features of the rocks. Cutting that causes cavern collapses and floodings are even less to his liking, and he is openly angered by those who pillage.

    Delvesonns seek always to uncover the buried wealth of the earth without marring the beauty of the ways beneath the surface or being overly greedy. They often supervise mining operations and maintain underground safety and security. They work to clean up the rubble of mining, to grow and put in place luminous fungi and edible deep-mosses, and to direct water through the earth to best serve the underlife that includes, of course, dwarves.

    A priest of Dumathoin is always learning the tiniest details of conditions and life underground. Most priests are therefore invaluable in leading companions through the underways in darkness. They can also find water, veins of ore, and cracks or fissures that provide ways out, or can be mined to yield a way from one cavern to another.

    As Keeper of Secrets Under the Mountain, Dumathoin is the dwarves' protector in death. His priests are morticians and tomb protectors since the time of Netheril. Dwarven tombs are hard to find and harder to plunder.

    Beams of brilliant focused light radiate from this miner's lantern. Dropping a chip of stone inside and holding it directly in front of ones face produces a remarkable effect. The caster can see through rock; in one direction at a time whichever way they are facing. The spell enables the miner to see various veins and inclusions in solid rock. It even allows sight beyond the rock surface as if peering from a cavern floor, wall, or ceiling.

    @3d55887f80:

    Sentinel's Bulwark

    "Never waver in your duty to Gorm's sacred charges. Defend, protect, and keep safe the children of the Morndinsamman from the hostile forces of the outside world. Be always vigilant and ever alert so that you are never surprised. If need be, be prepared to pay the greatest price so that the clan and the community survive, and your name will be remembered for generations."

    Gorm Gulthyn is the guardian and protector of dwarvenkind throughout the Realms as well as the god of all Stout Folk who serve as guardians.

    While Gorm regularly contests with the goblinkin and evil giant pantheons, he reserves his greatest hatred for the orcish god Shargaas, as the Night Lord is the only power to have ever successfully stolen an object the Sentinel was actively guarding. Gorm says little, but has a stern, booming voice when he does speak. The Sentinel is ever on the alert for threats to dwarves, and he is a tireless defender of the Stout Folk.

    The Vigilant Host guard clanhold entries, realm gates, and temples. Priests of Gorm serve as protectors and bodyguards for all dwarves, especially the young and their parents. They instruct dwarven warriors in the arts of alertness, blindfighting, and weapons. If protection involves sacrificing one's life, so be it.

    In this full plate armour of golden-brown hue you will never be Gormless. Ever-changing red symbols decorate its surface. A pinching gesture over the eye symbol, as if plucking it up in front of ones own eyes, reveals invisibility.

    @3d55887f80:

    Giantkiller

    "War is the finest hour of dwarvenkind. Seize the opportunity to defend the Stout Folk and ensure their victory wherever conflict does erupt. Revel in the challenge of a good fight, and never waver in the face of adversity, no matter how ominous. When not fighting, prepare for the next conflict physically, tactically, and by acquiring resources. Attack hill giants whenever possible and other evil giants when necessary. Death on the field of battle is never welcomed and lives should never be thrown away foolishly. However, if necessary for victory, the highest service that followers of the Father of Battle can perform is to sacrifice themselves for the cause on the field of battle by protecting as many other dwarves as possible."

    All dwarves who must fight worship Clangeddin Silverbeard, their patron and exultant leader in war. He encourages valour in battle, weapon-mastery and training, and wisdom in war. Clangeddin is concerned with war as a way of life and watches dwarves perform their battle-skills. The aptly named Father of Battle especially hates giants and has taught the dwarves special ways of fighting giant-type creatures.

    Clangeddin is a resolute warrior who never backs down from danger and who refuses to surrender even when all seems lost. He is a strict and ethical deity who brooks no treachery or deceit and who never negotiates or compromises. Triumph must be obtained through valor and bravery, and Clangeddin is swift to humble and humiliate any who overcome by cowardly or deceitful means. He always prefers force to spells.

    Clangeddin is merry in battle, roaring appreciation of shrewd strategies, bravery, and feats of skill even when such are directed against him. He often sings in the midst of a fight, both stirring battle-ballads and taunting little ditties to unnerve enemies.

    The members of Clangeddin's clergy form an elite warrior caste in many clans, maintaining their positions by training hard physically every day. They are always preparing for war, physically, tactically, and by acquiring resources. To ensure dwarven victory in every open fray, priests of Clangeddin try to further the weapon training, tactical training, and battle skills of every living dwarf. Weaponcrafting and training are required for all worshipers of the god, and priests of the god pass on their battle knowledge at an almost frantic rate to all dwarves who will lend an ear. Priests of Clangeddin seek to make the dwarves ever stronger on the battlefield and are always alert for new tactics, traps, and weapons.

    The axe is the weapon of choice among members of Clangeddin's clergy. This splendid mithral two-handed weapon is shaped to perfectly slice through the knee joint of a giant. Axe brothers and sisters never like to fight with shields, but will do so to protect other dwarves. The wielder of this axe may invoke Clangeddin's favour by crying out,

    "Lord of the Twin Axes Shield me!"

    If successful, a flickering amber, red, or white radiance infused with the god's power will be seen around the dwarf.

    That the past. This the future:

    Elshar comes as representative of his Damaran clan at the behest of his friend, Fir'rethsar. It seems that the two had researched together this Mithral path now walked. With the recovery of these artifacts? Yes, this was a place they had hoped to find. It seems there is to be no more exploration of the dwarven city nor search for the relics it holds without the presence of a trusted representative.

    Drim'tyferatas sends word that he is hopeful of having the old elven settlement, though much of that which would have marked it such is gone.

    Something of the dwarven heritage has been found, and perhaps now that of the elves.

    But mystery remains. How did it come to pass that both groups were replaced by their dark versions?


  • The Lay of Myth Revain

    No sign of life did flicker
    In floods of tears she cried
    "All hope's lost it can't be undone
    They're wasted and gone"

    "Save me your speeches
    I know (They blinded us all)
    What you want
    You will take it away from me
    Take it and I know for sure
    The light she once brought in
    Is gone forevermore"

    Like sorrowful seagulls they sang
    "(We're) lost in the deep shades
    The misty cloud brought
    (A wailing when beauty was gone
    Come take a look at the sky)
    Monstrous it covered the shore
    Fearful into the unknown"
    Quietly it crept in new horror
    Insanity reigned
    And spilled the first blood
    When the old king was slain

    Nightfall
    Quietly crept in and changed us all
    Nightfall
    Quietly crept in and changed us all
    Nightfall
    Immortal land lies down in agony

    "How long shall we
    Mourn in the dark
    the bliss and the beauty
    Will not return
    Say farewell to sadness and grief
    Though long and hard the road may be"
    But even in silence I heard the words
    "An oath we shall swear
    By the name of the Seldarine
    Until the world's end
    It can't be broken"

    Just wondering how
    I can still hear these voices inside

    The doom of Tel'Quessir drew near

    The words of our king
    "I swear revenge"
    Filled with anger aflamed our hearts
    Full of hate full of pride
    We screamed for revenge

    Nightfall
    Quietly crept in and changed us all
    Nightfall
    Quietly crept in and changed us all
    Nightfall
    Immortal land lies down in agony

    "Seldarine that's what you said
    Then your oath's been sworn in vain
    (But) freely you came and
    You freely shall depart
    (So) never trust the northern winds
    Never turn your back on friends"


  • On sapphire sails speeded they across sparkling water to, “The Tower,” rewot.

    Thorassian script welcomed weary travelers to the testament to human endeavour wrought of stone and the arcane. Shimmering mithral magic within that of the elves. Its ways impassable save for crystalline controls.

    Mechanical, minstrel-chasing monsters meandered below monitoring the tomb of a man in the construction around their components.

    Here lies Zerestan, leader of the scholars and mage. May his death be remembered and his sacrifice honoured.

    And a dwarven crystal adamantly blue, given life by the elves and strength by humans. Drawing from the warmth of Toril. Thrumming with power.

    Beauty and harmony laid waste by demon hordes in the City of Song.

    This a small mirror of right.

    But wrong is near. And open now.

    @2393eb5761:

    Having accompanied the elves and dwarves on their endeavour our services were needed indeed. 

    @2393eb5761:

    We worked on creating fine golems to aid in the ore extraction process and later with a tweak here and there to aid in the construction of our own living area. With the use of geothermal power to heat the place it has become quite pleasant. Though Hans does say he is concerned we may have extended the range of the duties of our golems a tad far.

    @2393eb5761:

    ..However Hans has often had a misguided sense of doom and gloom. The area here is mined out of suitable materials, some of the more rare ores were found, though it is said the dwarves are having more luck in their delving, one presumes there is a innate ability in their race to 'smell' out the ore?

    @2393eb5761:

    Well that aside we have found quality granite and obsidian to build our new home with, aside from oddities from the Underdark managing to squeeze through some cracks here and there it has become quite pleasant.

    @2393eb5761:

    The elven people are startling also, they are seeking in this barren cold tundra to create a fine forest. Their magics are altering the nature of the land and they have already created the rather pleasant grove around the Tower above our home…wizards aye, even when living like dwarves beneath the earth we still want our towers..……


  • Delving deeper revealed a hole in the weave filled with spiders. Webbing. Paralysing. Porting. Draining. Absorbing. Growing. Fearsome aberrations. Demon-feeders. Spiders.

    And another burial.

    Dain Axesmith, Lord of the Northern Reach, delver of the deep mines of Mithril and Gold, friend of the elven people. Let our two races be united in life as we were in death. Long may the Axesmith clan Honour this alliance.

    And by some means a counter to that which ripped the weave.

    What ancient lore hides in mystery below?
    Dare any delve deeper without dwarves.