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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
12147 Posts |
 Posted - 17 Aug 2025 : 02:50:05
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quote:
Originally posted by AJA
Jorl Urlthask
"Wandering Word-Winder of The Lord of Glyphs". Youthful face, fading wispy hair, flourishing downdagger mustache of which he is inordinately proud. Faithful of Denier. Travels the trade-roads of the Western Heartlands collecting all manner of odd scroll or local folklore or forgotten history, and paying his way via work as a caravan guard or hired harpist. Better known in Candlekeep and Berdusk Hall as the author of Things Gathered and Given (1337DR), a collection of poems and told-tales (most notably And Not A Word Now Read, an ink-sorrow he penned in memory of the inhabitants of the fallen Denierrath monastery of Torren-Idle the source of whose horrors remains unknown, but whose ghastly hauntings still inhabit the ruined halls)
"and the ghosts now scream in their head,
on those shelves not a word now read,
for everyone now there is dead"
Kloevthra Callelkh
Diminutive, hawk-nosed. High cheeks and pointed chin. Black eyes. Grey hair kept carefully upswept and styled and and pointed forward into a mages' cowl. Not a spellcaster herself, but a strict disciplinarian of the highest order. Believes that The Weave Is The Way, but also that the Weave is the way of her students' heart, and thus requires the strictest discipline to safely blossom.
Kloevthra is Headmistress of Cold Caladath, the Eltorchul Academy ice-pit located in the highlands north-and-east of the city, in the foothills of Mount Sar. Formerly a hunting lodge called Shaelshar's Fang; now dug six cellars deep, every one furnished with giant copper-lined and sigil-inscribed sarcophagi. Elemental practice at the Caladath is periodically required of all Academy students, regardless of ranking or arcane specialization.
The best crystal-clear blocks formed here are, of course, kept in reserve for Eltorchul functions and for sale to other select noble houses. The lesser, cloudier, results are sold instead to high-coin eateries and merchant families and even to certain shaved-ice syrup-sellers across the city the most famous of the latter being Sholka's Ice-Spears, a frozen-treats vendor of many flavors*.
* of which pear liqour from the orchards of eastern Tethyr, mixed with the anise-flavored extract of the pressed seeds of the woelark (sweet-tuft or 'fog-and-smoke') then boiled down into a bronzed syrup and drizzled onto Cold Caladath ice shavings, are always listed among the very top of the visitor's guides to the city (especially the original editions of Volo's Guide to Waterdeep, which made claim that this particular flavor was introduced to the city from another world entire by the grand archmage Elminster several centuries ago)
Loresk Ilzimmer
A young noble of House Ilzimmer. Apprenticed at the Eltorchul mage academy. Was assigned in turn to Cold Caladath, the Eltorchul ice-pit in the foothills of Mount Sar, and died on patrol of the surrounding region, lost down into the stony tannins of Moander's Soakway*. The sword he carried was a +1 sword, which was also enchanted with some sort of recording instrument which could store and then repeat the last one-hundred-and-twenty words chosen for entry within it. He was granted this weapon by an aunt who married in from outside the House (and who also oversaw his early education and certainly preferred him over the other Ilzimmer of his age, especially his older brother Simon). The family is quite keen on collecting his blade, for it may hold a recording of his final words (it is again a +1 sword, and that alone justifies its' worth, and as so is also exactly the value that the Ilzimmer Patriarch Boroldan has placed upon the retrieval of it).
* a deceptively deep pit of watery gravel at the confluence of several weeping Sar streams, which also collects the random debris of those streams and surface rainwaters, and slowly sucks in and drowns any wildlife unaware to come in for a drink, or any humanoids who find themselves wavering on the untrustworthy banks, fascinated by the unnatural gradients of the stones shimmering only an arms-length down within. Enchantments designed to allow a caster to walk freely upon surfaces of liquid or stone also fail completely here, which is why this place is of particular interest to the masters of the Eltorchul Academy; and also why their young apprentices sometimes overestimate their abilities, and end up drowned and lost. The god Moander has never personally visited here, but their rottings of vegetation, of wildlife, of intelligent being they all lie thick here, deep down in the Soakway (it's also one of the prime spawning-pits for scum-creeper and wort-wailer and bog-snatcher, all of which then range out into the surrounding hills and streams, thus the need for frequent Eltorchul patrols)
Lunaven "Moonstar"
[b.912/d.1090] Half-elven cleric/mage. The founder of what is now the Waterdhavian noble House Moonstar. Married the half-elf Yhauldrae in 960DR. Three children Alaundae, Valadorn, Andvarran.
Adventurer and captain of a small Selūnite mercenary band. Distinguished himself in 942DR during Emurra's Raid (against the drow), which freed the Selūnite priestess Engalathae and other captives and carried them back to the surface world in triumph. During the Raid he also personally carried back with him the great black shield called Gleaming Night, in whose cursed ebon depths it is claimed a man can see nothing but doubt and despair and death (and in whose depths his grandson Vanrak later spent much of his childhood gazing intently into). After that he rose quickly in the lay ranks of the priesthood and became both financier and advisor to the senior priestess Engalathae, the Moonseer of Waterdeep. It was also during this time that he underwent a ritual to change his name in the stars from Neldeiran to Lunaven (a compound of the words "llunath" and "venderiel," from dialects of elven and Chondathan that together can be taken to mean, Moon-Star[red]).
With the passing of Engalathae in 985DR Lunaven and his wife Yhauldrae officially gathered the extant Waterdhavian faithful of Selūne around the altar he had built atop his tower. This became known as The Plinth of the Moon and Stars, the first open temple of Selūne in Waterdeep in over a century. Upon Yhauldrae's death in 1067DR he then hired at great expense a quartet of Gondan artificers to alter the celestial capstone, which still reads overhead today as The Plinth, "I have given here everything of which I am. Here nothing is asked of in return. Would you then do the same?"
Lunaven was ambushed and slain by Malarites in 1090DR during the course of a Great Hunt, who then used the magic they plundered from his body to burn and despoil the Selūnite temple (in which his white-feathered collection of the shadows of singing birds was also lost to the invaders something that the current bards of New Olamn and their previously-aligned predecessors have made it a mission to recover ever since). It should be noted that Lunaven at his death was of an extreme age for a half-elf, yet still relatively spry and healthy. The most obvious answer for this has been recorded as a few potions of longevity kept from his adventuring days, but longstanding House Moonstar legend has it that he was instead moon-stilled, meaning that he was one of those blessed individuals whose bodies did not age while under the light of Selūne. [ Source: Powers & Pantheons, p.154. Name/Description given. Additional detail by me. See also Prayers From The Faithful, p.63-64. ]
Yhauldrae
[b.933/d.1067]. A half elf of Orlenskor, on the outskirts of The Ardeep. Her father was Asklaer, captain of The Moon-Bright Shield, the last elven company still pledged to the ancient alliance of elves and men formerly known as The Realm of Three Crowns. Asklaer and his company met their end in 936DR at The Battle of Withered Fields, during the height of the Orcfastings War.
Upon adulthood Yhauldrae was charged to walk a Prominent Path to a holy site of the goddess, in this case The Moon Sphere of the City of Splendors, where she then joined the silver-and-black blazons of the Moon-Tiger, becoming one with 'those women made of night and stars' (the covert were- followers of the priestess Engalathae, Moonseer of Waterdeep). That station is where she met and fell in love with Lunaven "Moonstar", marrying him in 960DR and helping to manage his accounts until they owned a fleet of four fast caravels and a score more of rental properties to match.
Yhauldrae died of heartstop on one particularly cold Waterdhavian winter's day in 1067. Her continuing efforts to carry forth the legacy of The Moonseer still echo into the present day, in the silver-and-black dress of the Sisters of the Waxing and Waning Moons currently Elaundae of the Elves (09 FEB 2020) and Calashaera Vondryn (29 JAN 2020), caretakers of the House of the Moon chapels of the same name.
Three children Alaundae, Valadorn, Andvarran.
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Alsaerak Ruldegost [ Source: Ed Greenwood, Greenwood's Grotto, #q4ed, 07/24/25. Name/Description given ]
Brymorton Ruldegost [ Source: Ed Greenwood, Greenwood's Grotto, #q4ed, 07/24/25. Name/Description given ]
Dethnar Lyondar Hethan Ruldegost [ Source: Ed Greenwood, Greenwood's Grotto, #q4ed, 07/24/25. Name/Description given ]
Mhair Szeltune (NG HF W19) or (NG HF [Illuskan] W5/guild wizard of waterdeep10/archmage4) or (NG HF W20 at death)
PREVIOUS: [ Source: City of Splendors: Who's Who In Waterdeep, p.56 and p.83 and City of Splendors: Waterdeep, p.30 and Marco Volo: Departure, p.12 and A 08/09/17 Twitter reply to @TheEdVerse by Ed Greenwood. Name/Description/Stats given ]
ADDED: [ Source: Lost Lore of The Realms #14, Ed Greenwood, Patreon Post, 08/11/25. Name/Description/Stats given ]
"I was always quite fond of Jorl, though I only knew of him through his writing" said the feminine voice of the weaveghost detective, "The ink-sorrow called And Not A Word Now Read was the talk of the scrivenerium where I took my apprenticeship copying spellbooks before taking my vows to become a Deneirrath. My copy of Things Gathered and Given had been a nighttime reading in my teen years that I treasured, a gift from my brother that my mother had not approved of, for fear that it might give me night terrors. It had instead awoken a thirst in me to uncover the truth behind the mysteries of the world, hidden in the written word. The book had intrigued me so much that my master scribing that led to my graduation from acolyte to becoming a mage-priestess of Deneir was my personally made copy of Things Gathered and Given, complete with an addendum littered with footnotes and references to other works where I'd researched the sources for much of this work. It was this same personally scribed copy that I had used to gain the right of entry into the library of Candlekeep, though I'd already made a copy of the copy so that I wouldn't lose my references for myself."
"Which of course led to our meeting," piped in the floating sai, Lorey Hisstory, "when I found you deep in the lower levels of the library rather rudely reading the book that I was trying to read. But I rather magnanimously forgave you your transgressions of course, because I could see you were a fellow scholar. You know though, we never have visited Torren-Idle, despite the number of times we've discussed going there. Perhaps we should give it a go? I mean, just think how many works might be lost there just waiting to be uncovered again."
The flapping pages of the levitating book entitled The Red Book of Spell Strategy whipped to 'face' the floating sai, "Look, I'm not one to give a lot of credence to stories meant to frighten the young, but take it from someone who was once under the influence of Shar, and who has done some studying of this place. The Malarite who built the hunting lodge called Shaelshar's Fang, was said to be a lyncanthrope unlike other lyncanthropes, for it was said to be a weresnail who had once entered Mount Sar and travelled in the caves known as Shaelshar said to be never touched by light and which instilled individuals with madness. Its believed that when this Malarite returned from its depths, it had become inflicted with its curse, as well as a strange hunger. Gulyaikin Dzrund, "The Mad Dwarf," who is said to still "live" on Mount Sar [1] said that this Malarite met with the shadow reflection of the Fomorian named Sar who was believed to have been killed by Waterdhavian Warlords long ago [1]. According to the "Mad Dwarf of Mount Sar", he watched the Malarite in hybrid weresnail form [3] talking to the false reflection in a stream running through Shaelshar [2], and that he even fell through the stream to pass into the Shadowdark, a portion of the shadowfell said to be tied to cold, aberrations, and madness [4]. This Malarite, after returning from the Shadowdark seemed driven, gathering followers to himself, and even attacking a steadfast of Selune's power and taking control of the captured shadows of songbirds held there. Some say it was the mad twitterings of these songbirds arriving in Torren-Idle that drove the Deneirrath insane. Some say their ghosts are but mad reflections of their former intellects. Even Jorl's writings seemed to have little hard evidence of what occurred in the Monastery, but was more a lament on the loss of such grand knowledge. But I warn you, there is something more to the songbird shadows, and if you value your sanity, you won't tread there."
Lady Jillian Doncastle of Neverwinter
Lorey Hisstory, the psion sai cyclopedia
Sleyvas, "The Red Book of Spell Strategy"
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SOURCES
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[1] Ed Greenwood (December 1987). Welcome to Waterdeep. In Roger E. Moore ed. Dragon #128 (TSR, Inc.), pp. 814.,
Mount Sar and Mount Helimbrar are named for two great fomorian giants who lived in the mountains until they were slain by early Warlords of Waterdeep. These mountains are still said to harbor stone giants and more fearsome menaces, although travelers also report seeing sylphs on the high ledges and side peaks. Gulyaikin Dzrund, 'The Mad Dwarf,' also lived in a warren of caves somewhere high up in Mount Sar some 70 winters ago (and may yet live there, if travelers' tales are to be believed). Gulyaikin was said to possess rich treasures and was noted for his occasional fits of berserk glee. During these fits, Gulyaikin delighted in killing all sorts of passersby by rolling large rocks onto the roads below and by catapulting large boulders at fishing boats offshore.
Also, from Eric L. Boyd's
https://web.archive.org/web/20160816130823/http://www.wizards.com/dnd/files/WATERDEEP2CX.zip
Mount Sar, the second most southern peak, was named for Helimbrars twin.
[2] AJA - The Five NPCs You Meet in Waterdeep - 22nd of January 2020
Shaelshar
On the basilary slopes of Mount Sar, opened like an ulcer or abcess in the stone of the mountain itself, lies a cavern of deep gloom and oddly mobile echoes or, as is known to Selūnites and trail-wise bards, "Those protruding depths where no moonlight e'er stained." Said to have once been a gathering-place for worshipers of the Lady of Loss. Or worshipers of something else; chanting, malevolent menaces that were snail-eyed and frog-footed. Also said to have birthed a crawling night horror that devoured said worshipers to a man. Those who have since braved the glooms here say that there is an altar, horrid and stained, and that there is more to be found deeper in the depths, but it should be noted that the number of those who exit with such tales is far, far less than the number of those who enter in search thereof.
[3] Weresnail lore - originally Greenwood's Grotto and copied to Candlekeep Forums - Ed Greenwood 03/02/2023
http://candlekeep.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=24668
Paraphrasing for brevity but original source above
Weresnails are most common in the Shining South. They tend to be the size of large sea turtles, or smaller. Their shells are dark brown to slate gray. They taste good roasted. They are predominantly gnomes and halflings, but there are recorded cases of them being from some loxo and humans.
[4] Shadowdark - 4e Underdark - Chapter 5 - The Shadowdark
THE BLACK, the Deep Chill, the World Tomb, the Soul Cold-those who have walked its freezing halls struggle for words that define the Shadowdark. The place clings to the heart as icy bitterness and in the mind as a haunting pall. Its soul-chilling nature lingers deeper than the unwholesome coldness felt on the surface ofthe Shadowfell, and it translates into a true freezing of water and blood in its black tunnels.
The Shadowdark is an otherworldly realm of legend, a chilling grave that buries many alive, and a quiet darkness that snuffs all hope. The unending gloom of the Shadowdark entombs strange places. Some mirror the Underdark locations ofthe world, while others bring new evils into being.
also
HUNGRY VOID Some places in the unending night below sap existence as well as light and warmth. These hungry voids give creatures in them a disorienting feeling of falling away from their bodies. Light cannot dispel this effect because it is the area and not the shadows that unravel the threads of life. A creature in a hungry void is closer to death than elsewhere.
[5] Feydark contains Fomorians - 4e Underdark - Chapter 4 - The Feydark
Ifthe Feydark is an echo of the Underdark, it is a smaller and brighter echo. While the Shallows might have a dank and dismal fungal forest, the Feydark has innumerable smaller caverns lit by dozens of varieties of phosphorescent mushrooms and their incandescent spores. Where each expanse of living stone chronicles the Shallows' rasping assault upon the world above, the Feydark features hundreds of pocket·sized fomorian fiefdoms, each twisted by its own weird magic or insane monarch.
Just mentioning the feydark, as I "suspect" that the fomorians of Mount Sar and Mount Helimbrar may have come across via "reflections" of Toril's underdark into the feywild's Feydark near the top of one of these mountains, but still deep in the mountain (or alternatively, in the sword mountains where its rumored these fomorians came from). These same fomorians may have "disappeared" into the Shadowdark rather than being killed.
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Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
Edited by - sleyvas on 17 Aug 2025 17:49:01 |
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AJA
Senior Scribe
USA
809 Posts |
Posted - 17 Aug 2025 : 07:03:24
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quote:
Originally posted by sleyvas
"I was always quite fond of Jorl, though I only knew of him through his writing" said the feminine voice of the weaveghost detective, "The ink-sorrow called And Not A Word Now Read was the talk of the scrivenerium where I took my apprenticeship copying spellbooks before taking my vows to become a Deneirrath. My copy of Things Gathered and Given had been a nighttime reading in my teen years that I treasured, a gift from my brother that my mother had not approved of, for fear that it might give me night terrors. It had instead awoken a thirst in me to uncover the truth behind the mysteries of the world, hidden in the written word. The book had intrigued me so much that my master scribing that led to my graduation from acolyte to becoming a mage-priestess of Deneir was my personally made copy of Things Gathered and Given, complete with an addendum littered with footnotes and references to other works where I'd researched the sources for much of this work. It was this same personally scribed copy that I had used to gain the right of entry into the library of Candlekeep, though I'd already made a copy of the copy so that I wouldn't lose my references for myself."
Rather high praise, there. I can only imagine the conversations that would stem from back-and-forth sharing of footnotes and references of all manner.
I think, given his peripatetic nature and the obvious depths of Jillian's knowledge, that the Word-Winder would likely subvert the master-student relationship and instead follow along with her for a time, to see what instead her particular "education" (and all other good things ending in "-tion") might bring forth.
....except a lore-forth to Torren-Idle. No. Jorl went there once, at least so far as the outer grounds within the spread-open gates. He saw the things writhing within the circular clumps of elms there. He even walked close enough through the cold grey grounds to see firsthand the bluish lights through the great, bubbled panes of the arched windows looming up overhead. He sat there, coated with snow and hoar-frost and listened silently to the torments of three-score former scribes. What he wrote from that was all that needed to be said.
But if that mouthy floating dinner fork that the Lady Doncastle listens to does manage to talk her into delving further, Jorl will walk with them through the outer walls and the circular clumps of elms and the cold grounds. And there they will part ways.
Then he will sit again within sight of the great, bubbled panes of the arched windows. And subject himself once more to the torments of the three-score former scribes resident within. Some of them were once his oldest friends. He would hope that his new friend wouldn't then add her own life to their number.
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AJA
YAFRP
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Edited by - AJA on 17 Aug 2025 07:20:15 |
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
12147 Posts |
Posted - 17 Aug 2025 : 12:54:51
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The indignant tone in Lorey's voice was undeniable, "Floating dinner fork! Did he just call me a FLOATING DINNER FORK?!?!"
The bemusement of Sleyvas was obvious when he did respond, "Well, he's not wrong. How many times whilst she still had need to eat did she use you as a kabob for roasting rothe and peppers? I seem to remember you even feeling proud of AND EVEN LIKING the arrangement, claiming yourself to be more than just a tool meant for poking holes in things until they bled out.".
Jillian simply smiled at the subsequent sputtering and embarassment of her longtime friend, for Sleyvas was not wrong, and she rather enjoyed watching the two of them prattle on like old friends making jibes at one another. But then her thoughts turned instead to the meat of the matter being discussed. Of course, when she had been alive, she'd not had the time to chase down Jorl, for she'd been too busy following the gossip of Neverwinter and later Waterdeep. Then had come her children and the need to provide them nurture and structure. But her children were now long dead, followed on by generations of grandchildren that she'd barely met.
She had no doubt that the "Wandering Word-Winder" still lived, for the rumors held that his father had been a dwarf priest of Marthammor Duin who'd had a season's tryst with a dance hall girl of Waterdeep before going "A'venturing into Undermountain", and given up to be raised by the monks and scribes of Torren-Idle. It was said his youth had been filled with studying the books of their great library, and so had awakened a wanderlust in him similat to that of his father to find out more of these stories, returning to write of them and thus pass on his knowledge. Thankfully, it was this wanderlust which had saved him from the grief that come to his home, but it had unfortunately separated him from even his own works, for he had assumed the home of his youth would always be available. So it was that Things Gathered and Given had been rewritten from memory, some of which was misremembered, some of which was false for he could be gullible at times or the tellers did not know themselves that they lied. But Jorl had taken to heart what he'd learned from his mother, for he'd found her after becoming an adult living as an old curios shop owner. She'd told him of her heartbreak when his father had not returned from Undermountain, and how she begged him not to become an adventurer for she'd only just "found him", and she wanted to get to know the son that she'd been unable to raise because of her grief and inability to tend even to herself. After she'd passed, she left the shop and the apartments above to him, and he'd thereupon passed the stewardship of the shop on to his own wife and children, but he'd kept a small room on the third floor as a resting place for himself when he would return to visit. For with the passing of his wife, who had died of a mischance spell during the time of troubles, he'd decided he ought to go a'wandering again.
So it was that Jillian decided, perhaps it was time to peruse her old book and perchance find the man which had inspired her in her youth. After all, at his now advanced age, surely he was like as not to be found in his old apartment. Perhaps it was time to recover the lost lore of Torren-Idle.
In the blackened eaves outside their window, a shadow of a songbird suddenly separated itself from the darkness and took to wing, headed in the direction of Mount Sar. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
Edited by - sleyvas on 17 Aug 2025 17:53:16 |
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
12147 Posts |
Posted - 17 Aug 2025 : 16:21:45
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| NOTE: on earlier response, gave some source notes for the "mad dwarf", the fomorians, shaelshar, shadowdark, feydark, etc... |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
12147 Posts |
Posted - 17 Aug 2025 : 21:39:37
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Ambralax, the shadow dracolich, cracked the skin of ice floating above the venomous, sludgy trickle of a stream that oozed through its lair. The water was polluted enough to kill a mortal man with a single swallow, but in droplet form it would bring upon fevered hallucinations and troubled dreams. Yet the dragon lapped at the water with no ill effects, and in fact seemed to draw strength from the moaning liquid, for it was rumored to be tainted by the spirits of those who had fallen in the shadowfell. Extending its tongue before its nostrils, it nestled a droplet of the liquid in a bowl made of its curved, black, shadowy muscle and looked at the shrunken flesh of the golden armored knight standing before him. Snorting abruptly, the droplet erupted into a spray that sizzled as it touched the engraved roses and suns etched into the plate armor of the man once known as Dahaerlin of the Burning Brand.
Once, long ago, the touch of the droplets would have brought forth at least whimpers of pain from the paladin of the Morninglord. But nearly five centuries of abuse had not only deadened his senses, it had deadened the man himself. He no longer breathed. His flesh lay as cold and clammy as that of a rotted fish. His mind had been corrupted through centuries of magical manipulation so that he no longer even recalled who he had once been. Now, he was simply a servant... a guardian... a weapon that would serve the mighty beast who had held him captive for longer than he had even lived.
But Ambralax had little interest in the necromantic servant, as he turned his attention once again to the heavy slab of smoky ice filled with a webwork of cracks and air bubbles that displayed a tiny world of caves. The icegloom chart was deceptively slow, but still one could see the alignment of the shadowdark caverns which stretched from the underside of the village of Hespheira were coming into alignment with the caverns of Shaelshar once again in perhaps another year or two. The great dragon hoped the batrachian horror in the cavern still slept, for as powerful as he was, the primordial-like being scared even him.
It had been nearly five centuries since the lichwyrm had discovered one of the fabled Obsidian Skins of the Dreaming Ophidian amongst the cursed treasures of Shaelshar's Pit and used its power to transfer the small village into the shadowfell.... only to have the mystical skin stolen by worshippers of a sun god mere months later, who absconded with the artifact and hid it away in the archival depths of a monastery in their world. A century later the shadow dragon had brought the village into alignment again, and the dragon had attempted to secure a foothold that it might recover the codex, but again the worshippers of the sun god had proven problematic and the dracolich had been forced into its phylactery again. Even worse, the body which it had prepared for such a contingency had been destroyed as well. Nearly a century had passed before a dragon-blooded orc [1] had stumbled into the shadowdark via Shaelshar, and the undead knight's mystical compulsions had forced Dahaerlin Blackbrand to capture it and offer its blood in sacrifice to free Ambralax from its mystical prison.
Since that time however, Ambralax's scryings revealed that the scholarly Vault of Torren-Idle in which he suspected the mystical tome had been taken had fallen. Whether it was due to the result of the actions of Shaelar, his servants, or some effect of the codex itself, Ambralax was unsure. Nevertheless, the undead dragon was determined that it would not let its next chance be a loss.
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SOURCES
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[1]Hespheira
Centuries ago, the village of Hespheira lay in the shadows of Mount Sar, but in the Year of Lathanders Light (1024 DR), unknown magics shifted the village and all its inhabitants to the Plane of Shadow. Many villagers were rescued by the paladin Dahaerlin of the Burning Brand and the Brotherhood of Light after fierce battles with a powerful shadow dracolich named Umbralax, who dwelt in one of that planes mysterious Darklands. The fact that Dahaerlin never returned leads many to believe that he won the groups escape at the cost of his own life.
In the Year of the Shadowkin Return (1136 DR), the ruined village of Hespheira returned to Faerūn, wrapped in a cloying cloud of blackness. Shadowy, wraithlike creatures began attacking inhabitants of the surrounding region, drawing out the Knights of the Aster. In the shadows of the village, members of the order battled Umbralax and the wraiths. But although the shadowy invaders were destroyed at great cost, thanks to the magic of the rod of Lathander (CoS:W), -- the dracolichs phylactery was never found.
In the years since the Battle of Hespheira, isolated reports of disappearances in the region have come to light, leading some to speculate that a portal to the Plane of Shadow remains active in the area. Some claim that the shadowy village still periodically returns to Faerūn, but if so, it has never returned long enough to threaten the surrounding region.
MELAIRRIN
High on the slopes of Mount Sar lies a warren of caves leading deep into the mountains heart. Gulyaikin Dzrund, the Mad Dwarf, dwelt therein nearly nine decades ago, and some believe that he lives there still. Gulyaikin was noted for fits of berserk glee during which
he delighted in killing all sorts of passersby by rolling large rocks onto the High Road below and catapulting boulders at fishing boats
offshore.
The warren of caves is now home to Harshnag the Grim (CoS:W), a frost giant and member of the Gray Hands. Harshnags caves are linked to Blackstaff Tower (C6) via a large-sized, two-way, keyed portal. The deepest caves of Harshnags lair lead down to a dwarf-built citadel in the heart of the mountain. Once known as Melairrin, the complex fell to the orcs of Uruth Ukrypt early in the history of that realm, giving them a secure base from which to dominate the southern Sword Mountains. In the Year of the Dracorage (1018 DR), the caverns of Melairrin were taken over by a black wyrm named Shammagar, who claimed it as his lair. The black dragon dwelt therein for several centuries before Asilther Graelor (CG female halfwood elf rogue 9), longtime companion of Mintiper Moonsilver, stole much of his hoard. Fearing further thefts, Shammagar abandoned Melairrin and relocated to an offshore island.
The caverns of Melairrin still retain traces of their various owners, but they are now home to a wide variety of monsters that have crept up from the depths below. Harshnag reports encountering small bands of half-black dragons of orcish ancestry from time to time, suggesting that Shammagars progeny may still dwell below. Older reports speak of a vampire lairing in the depths and a one-way portal linking the Sundered Throne (UM L1) to the dragons lair in the depths of Melairrin. The vampire Rorrina, dual, (daughter) of Tuvala of Clan Stoneshaft (CE female vampire [augmented shield dwarf] cleric 10 of Abbathor), does indeed exist and is a servitor of Artor Morlin (CoS:W and Dungeon #126-127).
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Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
Edited by - sleyvas on 17 Aug 2025 21:47:42 |
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Wooly Rupert
Master of Mischief
USA
36940 Posts |
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AJA
Senior Scribe
USA
809 Posts |
Posted - 18 Aug 2025 : 06:42:19
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quote:
Originally posted by Wooly Rupert
If I was Harshnag, I would move.
[Statler and Waldorf] If you were Harshnag, you'd be sixteen feet taller! Ho ho ho!   [/Statler and Waldorf]
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AJA
YAFRP
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sleyvas
Skilled Spell Strategist
USA
12147 Posts |
Posted - 20 Aug 2025 : 01:47:46
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quote:
Originally posted by Wooly Rupert
If I was Harshnag, I would move.
Yeah, I did find that piece very odd. |
Alavairthae, may your skill prevail
Phillip aka Sleyvas |
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Topic |
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The Five NPCs You Meet In Waterdeep
