Durant
Paladin-Vanguard Durant
Captured as a pup and raised from a young age as a slave-soldier to the Alarian Republic, before managing to escape and strike out on his own, Durant is now a capable warrior with a fierce devotion to the cause of freedom and the gods who seek to make it a reality. He seeks to end the institution of slavery in the west of Aedeva by whatever means he can, but he was first drawn into a conflict between the Undying and the God-King Cir, and now finds himself attempting to turn a collection of marauding wasteland gangs into a unified state in the wake of the Starfall.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Durant is heavily built and extremely muscular, as is typical for young adult gnolls. He has a somewhat hunched posture due to the anatomy of his legs, back and neck.
Body Features
He is covered head to toe in light brown fur, with darker brown fur on his hands, feet, ears, muzzle, and tail tip; he is also covered with small spots of darker fur, especially on his back.
Facial Features
He has the distinctly hyena-like facial features of a typical gnoll, with large eyes well-suited to seeing in dark conditions; thin, rounded ears with short fur; and a long, dark-furred muzzle filled with sharp teeth and ending in a black, wet nose. He has blue eyes, and thin black eyebrows.
Identifying Characteristics
He's a gnoll, and a big one; while there is a small gnoll population made up mostly of escaped slaves in Kopastad, Durant tends to stick out in most groups.
Physical quirks
Durant is right-handed, moves very deliberately, and has an unusual, loping gait due to his digitigrade leg structure. His arms are long enough that he can easily run on all fours.
Special abilities
Agroth-Torr, the Ascendant Goddess of Justice of the gnolls of Kheyrohn, has granted Durant the privilege of channeling Her power, with the understanding that Durant should use that gift to fight for Her cause - the liberation of the gnolls of Kheyrohn from continued oppression and slavery under the Alarian Republic.
Apparel & Accessories
Durant is rarely seen without his full armor, given his line of work as a mercenary. When not wearing his armor, he tends to wear relatively simple, unadorned woven clothing, though he often adds traditional gnollish accents like tessellating patterns at cuffs, lapels and obvious seams. He often accentuates both his armor or clothing with a long fabric cloak when the weather calls for it.
Specialized Equipment
Durant carries an assortment of weapons, including a folded-steel longsword of orcish make, the heavy flail Momentum, and his own natural bite strength. He also carries a heavy steel-lined shield of the same make used by Agroth-Torr, his Goddess, in her mortal life; and the matched adamantine gauntlets Freedom and Scout, gnollish artifacts imbued with magical properties suited for frontline military command.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Durant was born to two loving parents, his mother a hunter and his father a leatherworker, among a litter of gnoll pups in a migratory camp on the Kheyrohn Steppes. He had a different name then, a gnoll name that he no longer remembers. His childhood was largely uneventful, as he moved with his parents and the rest of his clan around the steppes with the herds of zebra and bison that fed them, and to stay ahead of the elven slavers. Life was simple, but Durant's parents did their best to provide for their children and genuinely cared for them; they did their best to shelter their pups from the world which sought to exploit them. This did not last.
The elves eventually caught up to Durant's clan, as they inevitably did, when he was around twelve. His parents were killed in the struggle; he and his siblings were taken by the slavers, separated by the Alastian slavecatchers and Unioner brokers so they had fewer ties to their old life. His name, his siblings' names, his parents' and clan's names, we're all magically erased from his memory. He was property now. Property didn't get to have names.
He was indoctrinated through enchantment into service to the Alarian economic elite, and eventually sold to Iyanxidor Myranan, a nouveau-riche elf of only a few hundred years who was in the process of making a fortune contracting expendable soldiers to the Alarian military. The young gnoll received months of military training, and then was thrown into a series of guard posts, riot control jobs, and clandestine nighttime raids. He was tough enough to survive, and smart enough to advance; he became a sergeant, then a platoon sergeant, then a company quartermaster and executive officer, second only to a "real" elven officer. Throughout it all he slowly chipped at the shackles placed on his mind, trying to find a way to break them.
One day, they finally did break, for no reason that Durant could ever determine. He immediately tore out the throat of his commander, and scarred half of Iyanxidor's face beyond recognition before he was forced to flee. He fled the Glass Citadel with another gnoll who had slipped his bonds, both somehow evading the fortress guard until they reached the open plains; they somehow made it to the Silverwood, where they had the good luck to come across elven dissenters, smuggling escaped slaves; they somehow made it through Union Bridge to freedom in Cireth. In retrospect, Durant can only surmise that the Ascendant were watching over him even then.
The young gnoll took the name Endurant, for his refusal to be broken by his circumstances; it shortened quite neatly to the Common name Durant. He felt it suited him. He began working as a mercenary, employing his skills against Snatchers in whatever way he could. He dreamed of returning to Alaria and making things right...
Gender Identity
Male, demigender - Durant identifies and presents as male but is not strongly attached to the concept, especially given that gnoll culture has remarkably weak gender-coding and gender roles.
Sexuality
Gay/Demisexual - Durant is attracted primarily to other men, and of them primarily men of other "beastial" species similar to gnolls, although he has developed a crush on a human on at least one occasion. He is also demisexual, placing much greater importance on personality in relationships than physical appearance.
Education
Durant has had very little formal education. He was given a basic education in mathematics, logistics and accounting at the direction of Iyanxidor Myranen, along with a handful of other gnolls, to serve as a company quartermaster; he also gained a well-developed sense of land-warfare tactics from fellow gnolls forced into service in his contract regiment. Since obtaining freedom, Durant has made a habit of reading every book he can get his hands on to make up for lost time, now that he finally has the means and the freedom to try to satisfy his cravings for knowledge.
Employment
Durant currently works as an independent mercenary, using the skills he developed training and fighting with the contract regiments primarily to defend caravans along the Bloodgold Road trade route between the cities of Union Bridge and Kopastad. He, and the rest of the Outsiders adventuring group, are currently in the employ of a Cirethian scholar named Artyom, who needs ongoing protection for his expedition to recover a collection of holy artifacts.
Accomplishments & Achievements
Failures & Embarrassments
Mental Trauma
Durant is scarred from the circumstances of his enslavement. He reacts badly to being bound, locked in confined spaces, or magically compelled to perform any action, regardless of intent.
Intellectual Characteristics
Durant has spent most of his adult life in military service of some form, and as such has a keen sense of small-unit tactics, strategy and logistics and fields related to those skillsets.
He also very much likes to make things in his spare time, focusing mostly on repair and maintenance of his arms and armor, though he is also quite adept at woodworking. He loves to study in his spare time as well, focusing mainly on nonfiction about history, architecture, and anthropology.
Morality & Philosophy
Durant adheres to the code of conduct set forth for the Knights of Khath'rakal, an order of secular gnoll soldiers turned paladins in the wake of the Ascendancies. The most recent version of the code as set forth by the Castellan Agroth-Torr reads:
You are the vanguard of the oppressed, the defender of those who have lost the means to defend themselves. You shall always strive to protect the freedom of all sapients, and to fight for their freedom if they are without it.
No sapient being should be rendered property, under any circumstances. You shall not knowingly associate with those who practice slavery, and you shall seek to free slaves from bondage whenever you have the means to do so.
To use the tools of the oppressor is to risk becoming an oppressor yourself. You shall not use coercive magics on others, or knowingly associate with those who do.
Caution and forethought are wise, but you shall not fear or hesitate to act when the time comes to do so. The people cannot afford to wait for their saviors; you must lead by example whenever the opportunity presents itself, and bring others to your cause by your actions.
Aid others, protect the weak, and punish those who threaten them. Show mercy to your foes, but temper it with wisdom.
Treat others with fairness, and let your honorable deeds be an example to them. Do as much good as possible while causing the least amount of harm.
Be responsible for your actions and their consequences, protect those entrusted to your care, and obey those who have just authority over you.
Taboos
Durant considers slavery to be an unquestionably evil institution, given his own life experience and the history of his people with regard to the elves of Alaria.
The use of coercive magic is similarly taboo for Durant, having been under coercive enchantment himself for most of his adolescence. He will not tolerate its use by his associates.
Notably, he is totally comfortable with cannibalism, and abstains from it more out of respect for the funerary practices of other species, rather than any ethical qualms he has with it himself.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Durant's guiding ambition is to end slavery on the western continent, and free those currently suffering under Alarian slavery the way he did. He expects he will need to build an army and invade the elven nation to do this, so his current goal is to build a suitable army.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Durant is a profoundly good soldier, a moderately good woodworker, and an excellent cook.
Likes & Dislikes
He is very fond of good food, and is quite a proficient chef as a result of this. He has a marked distaste for high fashion and the culture of the rich, as these are both somewhat irreparably associated in mind with slaveowners looking to climb the social ladder.
Virtues & Personality perks
Durant is deeply patient and surprisingly easy to talk to for a gnoll. He has a deep well of empathy which tends to get him in peoples' good graces quickly.
Vices & Personality flaws
Durant has a vengeful streak. He is slow to anger, having been tempered by a lifetime of being beaten down, but once someone has drawn his ire very little can be used to get him to back down.
Personality Quirks
Durant has a tendency to giggle nervously, as is fairly typical of gnolls.
Hygiene
He has a remarkably consistent self-care regimen, brushing his fur out regularly to get ahead of shedding and bathing whenever the opportunity presents itself. Being a gnoll, he is functionally immune to most non-magical diseases, but he keeps up his hygiene regimen because it makes him feel more disciplined and presentable.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Durant has a good working relationship with both Duke-Archbeacon Gregory Drake, the political and spiritual leader of the duchy of Softor, and notable Cirethian mage and scholar Artyom. He is also very active within the Morowan church community of the city of Kopastad, and has made friends and allies within the city's small gnoll refugee community. He is the Team Dad of the Outsiders adventuring group.
Family Ties
Durant has no family ties to speak of; his parents were both killed in the raid where he was captured for enslavement, and his clan was split up among a variety of elven slaveowners.
Religious Views
Durant is a devotee of the Kheyrohn gnolls' hero-gods, the Ascendant, and is particularly devoted to Agroth-Torr the Castellan. Agroth-Torr ("Mother Whitemane") was a renowned leader of the free Kheyrohn gnolls, a brilliant general and a savvy diplomat who managed to unite the normally contentious gnoll clans and ally with the orcs and goblins of Naza Damuz, briefly turning back the encroaching threat of Alarian colonialism before she was assassinated by a political rival. She has since become a deified symbol of the gnolls' potential for unity and resistance against oppression, especially among the enslaved, who share her stories and faith in secret; Durant has maintained his faith in her since during his enslavement, and seeks to carry out her will of uniting and freeing his people.
Durant also worships the greater deity Gwynn Moro, known to the gnolls as the River's Embrace. The Morowan clergy in Cireth preach a decidedly abolitionist interpretation of the will of the Gods, and had for decades been playing a part in a slave-smuggling operation through the city of Union Bridge - Morowan cleric Rowan Darroch played a key role in seeing Durant through Union Bridge safely to freedom in the duchy of Softor. Since being introduced to the Morowan church, Durant has felt indebted to Gwynn Moro and Their faith, and does his best to include Them in his spiritual life.
Social Aptitude
Durant is very socially adept, having developed a good sense of how to talk to a variety of people during his enslavement; he was often used as the "show slave" for Iyanxidor Myranan's military contract regiments, as Durant could be expected to be calm and well-behaved in front of potential clients. Some of these mannerisms have carried over to today, where Durant performs a great deal of code-switching and deference to authority in the presence of clients and people of social privilege, but he is also capable of loosening up and is far more comfortable and genuine in less formal environments - chiefly pubs, trade caravans, fighting rings, and military expeditions.
Mannerisms
Durant will occasionally slip into hyena-like mannerisms during his speech; he has a tendency to giggle loudly when he finds something funny or he is startled or surprised, and will often instinctively growl when angry.
Hobbies & Pets
He has no pets, but has a genuine love of dogs, horses, and hyenas. His hobbies include woodworking (especially whittling), reading (primarily academic nonfiction), sport martial arts, and the rugby-like gnoll sport of Gabhail.
Speech
Durant speaks in a deep, growling voice typical of most gnolls. He can get talkative when people engage him on topics he is genuinely interested in, but for the most part he is a hyena of few words and tends to be direct and to the point.
Wealth & Financial state
Durant has recently come into a fairly large amount of money between working for Artyom and Duke Gregory, and has mostly been saving this towards using it as capital to build a sustainable mercenary company.
Once a wandering gnoll mercenary with the favor of his culture's Goddess of Justice, Durant is now a civil and military leader among the gnolls of Graffenbach.
Current Location
Kasr Tiryns, Southern Graffenbach
Alignment
Lawful Good
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Paladin-Vanguard of Agroth-Torr
Honorary Guardsman of the City of Kopastad
Thane of the City of Fisterix
Date of Birth
Ca. 3785 AW (Cirethian Calendar)
Birthplace
An unnamed gnoll migratory camp on the Kheyrohn Steppes, near Naza Damuz, Alastia
Children
Current Residence
Kasr Tiryns, Southern Graffenbach
Gender
Male
Eyes
Blue
Hair
Brown
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Brown fur
Height
6'-8"
Weight
262 lb.
Quotes & Catchphrases
"Kharak, guide my footsteps where they need to go;
Khath-Tial, protect my body from those who seek to harm it;
Pyth, guide my fangs so that they may strike true against evil;
Rothaan, give me the courage to do what needs to be done;
Agroth-Torr, guide my conscience to fight for the cause of righteousness." - the Wanderer's Prayer to the Ascendant, Kheyrohn Gnoll prayer cycle
"I have to believe they can be better." - to Barzog, regarding the Pink Skull Goblins
"HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE" - battlecry
Durant's Personal Journal - Southern Graffenbach, spring of 3812
spring of 3812
Things have been looking up as of late, for what it is worth. It seems like as cataclysmic as the Starfall has been, the silver lining is that it has opened more opportunities for the rest of us than its architect probably realized.
I've managed to keep myself quite busy managing my fledgling army, and it has well and truly become an army by now, several thousand gnolls rather than hundreds now that we've crossed into Graffenbach. I've been pleasantly surprised just how many marauding warbands have simply joined of their own accord; they seem intent on joining those who can provide some structure, security in numbers, and reliable hot meals in these uncertain times. There are as always those gangs and warlords who cling to their pride and must be fought, but for the most part things have been remarkably amicable. I am as always thankful for that.
Perhaps even more fortuitous, we have managed to get in the good graces of the Warrior Queen An'sula herself, and her court. We've provided our services as mercenaries to her more than once to make up for her sudden lack of troops, and together we seem to have done an admirable job of stabilizing the post-Starfall foothills north of Mt. Hapboog for her city and people. She has even been magnanimous enough to allow many of our gnolls political asylum in her territory. Those of us who did not wish to remain fighters have mostly claimed old farms around Kasr Tiryns whose prior orcish owners had died for one reason or another in the wake of the Starfall. The volcanic soil produces crops like I could never have imagined, and they are quickly making themselves valuable. It means the world to me that they do not have to live lives of violence if they do not choose it.
Lycya and Adcro have proven invaluable to administering all these people. They have started delegating responsibilities to their own lieutenants to ensure things continue effectively, and have thus far chosen quite well who to trust. Their friendship has also proven invaluable to me, as has Char's presence; I feared that this would be quite lonely when I left Hannuya's Ridge and thankfully that has not been the case. For all the hardship, this has given me a great deal of hope for the future.
Durant's Personal Journal - Eastern Graffenbach, autumn of 3811
sometime in mid-autumn of 3811
Things seem to move quickly out here, north of Cireth. I have a mixture of good news and bad news to document.
The good news is, I've made more strides in assembling my fledgling warhost. It's turning into a proper little army now, nearly eight hundred strong. By all accounts this may well be every gnoll in Chedonc. I'm glad I could bring them all together in this; most of them are, understandably, simply scared now given the Starfall and I am happy I can channel that fear into something constructive rather than leave the warlords to tear them all to pieces for scraps.
The other good news is, we have successfully crossed the mountains into Graffenbach. I fail to understand why the humanoids call this place the Graffenbach Wastes. The volcanic soil is quite rich by the looks of things, and the plains are quite verdant here. I suppose the volcanoes play some role in the name, but... I cannot help but suspect there is cultural posturing at play on the humans' part.
The bad news... we had to cross through the ruins of Kalag Nor to reach our current location. The city was struck by a falling star. I had hoped Kalag Nor would be a respite for us, and perhaps a place where we could get on the orcs' good side. Instead, just ruins and ash and deep, diseased veins of something I could not identify. It was much like Artyom's illness when it overtook him, though.
I have been lucky to maintain my connection with Agroth-Torr. I am so deeply thankful that the Ascendant seem to have avoided the fate the Old Gods suffered during the Starfall; selfishly, I treasure that bond deeply, but far more importantly it means that the God-Tyrant Cir still has some peers who might be able to oppose whatever master plan He has in store. Perhaps there are more young gods like the Ascendant that can be called upon. As much as Silvertongue would object, I highly suspect the human northerners have made gods of their heroes of myth much like we gnolls have; perhaps the Goblin King might qualify as well. I am getting ahead of myself, but the speculation gives me some hope.
Durant's Personal Journal - Northern Chedonc, late summer of 3811
sometime in late summer of 3811
It feels like it has been an eternity since I had either the time or the spare paper to write one of these journals. I'm glad my life seems to have stabilized enough to pick this up again, for what that's worth. The small comforts are precious these times.
It has been several months since I left the Outsiders back in Hannuya Ridge; I'm not certain what the date is, to be honest. The days begin to blend together when you're alone, and I spent long enough alone to have thoroughly lost track of the date. No big loss, I won't lose any sleep without Cir's calendar in my life.
Fortunately, I'm very much no longer alone. Quite the opposite, I've got more companions than I'm quite sure what to do with; over one hundred by last count. The first was Char. I found the direwolf weak and sick on the road north into Chedonc, looking for Her temple; from what I found his pack was probably killed as some result of the Starfall. He took quite the liking to my jerky first, but he seems quite protective of me now. It is wonderful to receive that kind of genuine affection, and to be able to return it.
The second... well, it may have taken a cataclysm but I seem to finally be building that army. The last few miles from the temple, I got ambushed by a gang of gnolls; their petty warlord seemed quite keen on fighting me one-on-one. I think they were trying to prove something to their gang about how tough they were or some such. It went poorly for them, and the rest of the group simply let me leave. What I wasn't expecting was, when I made camp that night, the gang had followed me, and the late warlord's two de-facto lieutenants (Lycya and Adcro) came to thank me for doing them a favor. Apparently they'd been trying to shake off the leader for a while, and were keen to align with someone less petty, stupid, and cruel.
To be honest, I didn't trust them at first. Even with the Castellan's gifts, thirty gnoll marauders might be able to overwhelm me if they had got it in their heads to turn on me. Lycya and Adcro seem to have built up the trust and respect that their boss failed to engender, though, and Lycya and Adcro have been entirely trustworthy thus far. They've been invaluable in getting their own gang in my good graces, and in bringing two more marauder gangs into the fold since. I know that it's partially motivated out of fear and uncertainty in light of the Starfall, but... I feel quite relieved and vindicated that the people of Yeenoghu have turned out to be people, just like any other. I can't help but remember that time I ran into those goblins in the Amberwood with the Outsiders, how little faith the rest of the group had those goblins could be considered... people. I would be lying if I said that sort of rhetoric didn't put doubts in me that maybe I and people like myself were aberrant somehow. This has redoubled my faith that the people of Cireth and Alaria were wrong - that we are all people just as much as any humanoids are.
In a strange way, it feels like home here. I speak in my childhood tongue every day, old words coming flooding back to me. I share my old stories and hopes of a brighter future, and the others share theirs with me. It gives me hope that as much as the Starfall is a cataclysm, maybe we can make a better world for ourselves yet.
P.S. I managed to catch up to Grung's company eventually; I am uncertain what happened, though it seems they were attacked by someone or something else prior to our getting there. Those who survived must have fled in a hurry. Still no answers, but at least I got my armor and belongings back. I will hold on to Sadon's plate armor as well for when I see him again. I hope he is okay.
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Epilogue
The expedition was a complete failure. Worse, only now do I fully understand what that failure encompasses.
We are now resting in Hannuya's Ridge, a small town near Whistlewind. We managed to make it through the pass, thankfully without casualties in our own party. We did, however, make no headway in sealing the vault, and for all I know doing so would have accomplished nothing regardless. The spirit haunting the pass appears to have nothing to do with the spirit of the king entombed below it anyway.
The twins' wild goose chase did cost us several days of valuable time, which meant the caravan decided to move through the pass without us, assuming we were dead. They seem to have made it most of the way through before things went very wrong. They were overwhelmed by the undead; most of the soldiers made it through, but the last of Artyom's aides had apparently been instructed to kill him by the Lawbringers and did so long before we found him. He died just after we reached him.
What's more, only at his death did Artyom explain the true goal of the expedition: he was apparently the avatar of Sridas, one of the Undying. His goal was to reach the Boltstone to prevent its destruction by Cir, as the stone was the closest thing He had to a physical body in the Material. He failed. We failed.
This was apparently the last thing preventing Cir from simply killing the other Old Gods. Stars are falling from the sky. Gods are dying with them. Why, or how, is beyond me yet. This raises a multitude of questions. Are the Undying and the Old Gods simply iterations of the same deities? What is Cir's end goal in this? Artyom, Sridas, mentioned some great threat that I have no context for. This is all so sudden, so cataclysmic.
One more loose end - where does Grung fit into all this, and the hobgoblins we were pursuing? Who were they actually working for, and why? Was it the Goblin King? Cir Himself? That question I might be able to find an answer to. At swordpoint, if need be.
In my attempts to commune with Agroth-Torr, She has given me a vision of a nearby temple. I will go there; I will leave tonight, alone. Sadon has gone off at the bidding of Tiln, or what is left of Her, so there is little reason for me to remain. I do not intend to tell the others. I do not know if I will ever want to see them again.
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 6, Addendum
2nd of Bolgasebb, 3811 AW
Well. Today certainly has been eventful. I am deeply disturbed by what has transpired, in many ways, and I am not certain where to begin.
I suppose I should simply follow the timeline of events. After the rest at which I wrote my last entry, we continued on into the dungeon complex. We got through all of one room before Moshe rushed into what I believe was a kitchen and got ambushed by some sort of... cavern squid? He and Eloria took care of it with little effort, but we were approached immediately after by two more undead, and another group from the direction we had come from, simultaneously. One group was two more of the wights, who were unusually coherent for undead though no less hostile than the previous groups (and, fortuitously, Sadon and I can likely salvage their plate armor). We dispatched them.
The second group was... complicated. One among them was that Path of Blood pistolier bounty hunter again, who immediately went after Eloria rather than me, interestingly enough. Moshe made short work of him. The other was not an enemy at all, though he had apparently been duped by the bounty hunter to lead him to us; his name is Karthurnax, and he says he is a dragonborn. He certainly looks like one of the dragons the human storytellers are so fond of, as does his (quite pleasant) steed, so I am inclined to believe him. Regardless, I am happy to have another soldier at our side, and he seems refreshingly sensible by our party's standards.
During all this, Silvertongue wandered off to check the room across from the kitchen, and encountered some remarkably amiable undead, though they had gone somewhat mad and senile from the length of time they had been trapped down here. They requested our help breaking the curse that bound them to this place so they could move on along the Astral Path, and we complied. The process of allowing them to pass on was successful, but this is where things began to come undone. Silvertongue and Moshe apparently decided to wander off yet again while we were tending to the needs of these trapped souls, down the staircase deeper into the dungeon.
By the time the rest of us realized they were gone, it must have been several minutes, and in our haste to pursue them we must have somehow triggered a trap system on the stairs that collapsed them into a slick ramp. Karthurnax's quick reflexes allowed us to make it over the spike pit at the foot of the stairway without incident, fortunately, but by the time we had made it to the chamber of the base, we were separated from Silvertongue and Moshe by some sort of magical barrier, who had engaged some sort of undead warrior intent on killing them. A lot of things happened in quick succession. Eloria broke down the barrier. Moshe seemed to willingly let Hexus do as he wished. Hexus successfully... absorbed, or ate... the undead warrior, who changed into another person, apparently one King Geralt. That name seems to mean something to Silvertongue, in retrospect; more importantly, he is apparently responsible for the blight on this canyon and his first act upon being... resurrected?... was to attempt to ensorcell us. We killed him again, and interred his corpse within the sarcophagus he, or the warrior, or whoever had escaped from. He cursed us with his dying breath. The words he spoke tear at the edges of my mind, and I am unable to recall them.
I do not care. I would gladly kill that monstrosity again in an instant. Thus always to tyrants.
I am angry with Silvertongue, for wandering off yet again at the worst of possible moments. But I am furious with Moshe, and furious with myself. He assured me that he could rein in Hexus's avarice and malice, and I believed him. Now Hexus very nearly got us all killed, and unleashed a force that could have wreaked incredible havoc upon the world... a man who deserved annihilation. Eloria came within a hair's breadth of death, Sadon tells me. We were all in profound danger, and given that the sarcophagus we found was not the vault we seek, but an entrance to its location yet deeper into this prison, we likely still are in profound danger. This is unacceptable.
Moshe is unconscious now. It is for the best. Sadon and I am going to reclaim the armor from the undead upstairs; I relish the opportunity to put my mind anywhere else. I hope I will have quieted my temper by the time Moshe awakens.
Kharak, guide my footsteps where they need to go
Khath-Tial, protect my body from those who would seek to harm it
Pyth, guide my fangs so they may strike true against evil
Rothaan, give me the courage to do what needs to be done
Agroth-Torr, guide my conscience to fight for the cause of righteousness
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 6
2nd of Bolgasebb, 3811 AW
Well, things got a bit interesting for us the past day... apparently. I distinctly remember getting to the glade where we set up camp, and Sadon, Moshe and I set to breaking the obelisk free of the desecration holding it... but I can't remember anything for the rest of the day, or much of this morning. Apparently one of the undead in the glade came back to attack us again after we thought they were all dead, and I got a tree dropped on me during the fight. I expect I blacked out as a result of that; I've asked Sadon to keep tabs on my memory for the next few weeks, though with any luck I've returned to my senses by now.
Based on what the party has told me, Sadon availed himself well in cleansing the desecration from the Tilnic obelisk (he never fails to make me proud!), and the party stayed the night in the glade. The following morning we proceeded further up the valley to what appears to be a very old castle, currently occupied by a very large, very grumpy frost giant whose name escapes me. I'll need to ask him again now that my memory seems to be in working order once again. Moshe seems to have earned his respect, and safe passage for ourselves and the caravan, by once again transforming himself into a giant reptilian creature (he calls it a tyrannosaurus, apparently a species native to Chedonc) and wrestling the giant into submission. I gravely regret my inability to remember this, it sounds like quite the spectacle.
We've also discovered that this castle is directly above the vault we've been looking for; we've been descending into the castle's dungeon in the hopes that will lead us to the entryway so we can seal it, though I suspect Hexus may still want Moshe to continue on and fight the spirit inside. We shall cross that bridge when we get to it. In the meantime, we have made good progress into the dungeon complex. It's been fascinating to see the odd mixture of challenges here; we were forced to fight two ice-carved statues to gain entry to the dungeon at all, then had to deal with a troll. The troll seemed to have been there a very long time; it was very frightened and panicked when we approached, and it could easily have been there for centuries given how they regenerate. We managed to let it free from the shackles holding it rather than killing it; I feel like we did a good thing in that, if nothing else. I can tell the others, especially Silvertongue, didn't seem too keen on the idea of not simply killing the troll, which only makes me more appreciative that they humored me and agreed to let them go on their way. I owe them all my gratitude, and some good liquor once we get back to town.
We've also run into several gnoll wights and witherlings within this area of the dungeon. I was not expecting to run into gnolls up here, though I do suppose this the edge of the Grauffenbach clans' territories. They definitely weren't the original occupants of the jail complex down here, they seem to have come in to pillage the place and ended up dead themselves after a while. The witherlings make some sense; the gnolls most likely constructed those themselves out of the skeletons of fallen clan-mates. The wights are more curious, though they were probably held here in undeath by the same powers animating the hordes of the dead throughout the canyon. Regardless of the cause, I've given them their final rites to send them along the Astral Path, so they can rejoin the Cycle. Even the cruelest of us do not deserve the imprisonment they faced here.
We'll be continuing deeper into the dungeon shortly. I hope we reach the vault soon, so we can get the caravan moving again.
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 5
1st of Bolgasebb, 3811 AW
Gods grant me patience, but I hate this place.
Eloria, Silvertongue, Moshe, Sadon and I have gone off into the canyon in advance of the caravan, per the plan we drew up last night. Everything seems to take far longer than anticipated up at these altitudes, between the snow and the constant assaults by the undead, or outsized wolves, or trolls, or murderous spirit fog. The mist makes it hard to navigate the canyon, even in daytime, and it will be at least another half-day before we can reach the crypt. I hope the hobgoblins and what remains of their battlegroup have had at least half the difficulty we have, or catching them in Whistlewind will prove yet more difficult.
Moshe's magical prowess has proved exceptionally useful this past day - he seems to have developed a knack for shapeshifting and levitation, and it has proven exceedingly useful. He also took some time to reassure me that he holds much greater control in his relationship with Hexus than I had previously thought, which is comforting. Still, I am concerned that Hexus might attempt something untoward in the coming days. We will have to deal with that possibility as it occurs.
Silvertongue's communion with his ancestors seems to have convinced him that the spirit in the crypt we are going to is beyond our ability to fight. He also seems convinced that we can instead seal the crypt to break its power over the pass. I will need to seek clarification that the undead here will be released from their servitude to the afterlife as a result of this, both for the sake of their own souls and for the practical concerns of getting the caravan to safety, but if that is the case I think he may well be correct. We simply do not have time to waste, and the sooner we can lay these undead to rest and get through this blighted pass, the better.
We are currently resting at an obelisk, which Sadon has said is a Tilnic trail-marker corrupted by the same forces that have corrupted the rest of this place, at a natural chokepoint in the canyon. We will likely stop here for the night, especially if we can break the desecration's hold on the marker. This seems as safe a campsite as we are likely to get.
The stars remain distant, and Her presence feels distant with it. The sooner we get this over with the better.
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 4
28th of Bolgatide, 3811 AW
Gods above, what a disaster this expedition has turned into.
The good news is, Eloria, Silvertongue, Sybil, Moshe and Artyom are all safe. The first three apparently went into the canyon last night attempting to track the hobgoblins who poisoned Artyom. They disappeared for hours and I fully thought they were dead after the hobgoblins' force attacked our camp, but they fortunately made it safely back to our encampment despite running afoul of quite a number of the undead within the valley. Moshe, meanwhile, appears to have simply kept his head down in our camp until after our enemies had moved on, then joined the fight. Sadon fought well. The Maidens, the Hounds, even the one remaining scholar among Artyom's cadre all availed themselves admirably against our attackers; I suspect very little of the hobgoblins' battle-group remains given how many stone giants and goblins were killed in the battle last night, and we managed to kill three more of the hobgoblin officer corps as well. Artyom himself is quite badly shaken and hurt by the poison he was given, but he is stable and recovering. We're all fairly safe for the time being.
The bad news is that our camp was completely razed. Eloria is the only among us who lost nothing; the attackers appear to have taken my and Sadon's armor, weapons, clothing, anything that was not on our persons when we fled; perhaps worse, Artyom's entire library was burned. There was nothing left but ashes by the time we got there. I have not yet had the heart to ask Artyom how badly that might hinder us going forward. Gods preserve me, I had to beg this very scrap of paper off the Maidens' sergeant, just to write my daily journal. I haven't felt quite so vulnerable in a long time, though I suppose this is all the more reason to run down what little remains of the hobgoblin battle-group as quickly as possible.
Oddly, we also seem to have picked up some new traveling companions today. A Ciran cleric named Aza'tar arrived at a timely moment, right at daybreak, during the hobgoblin force's assault on our position; he came to our aid and has been tending to Artyom's rather serious condition since the battle ended. The battle also seems to have attracted a wandering svirfneblin, who Moshe brought along when he broke cover and made it to the soldiers' camp after the hobgoblins razed our own. We weren't introduced and they seemed quite terse; I've yet to be sure what to make of them. Any aid we can secure is welcome at this point, but with how touch-and-go our tactical situation has become I'm in no mood to take chances on people we know nothing about, either.
Our current plan (We have a plan! How wonderfully novel!) is to wait out the night for rest and recovery; our party will enter the canyon at first light tomorrow, while the undead are less capable to attack us, and proceed to a vault that Sybil insisted is the home of the spirit that haunts this pass. Hopefully, the caravan will be able to pass unfettered once we deal with whatever it is inside this vault. We should be able to move much more quickly once we are through the pass and on the downward slope of the mountains, and I am tempted to send the Hounds ahead for scouting and skirmishing once we're in open terrain. We have to get through the pass first, of course. One thing at a time.
Third Night of Artyom's Expedition - Durant's Thoughts
27th of Bolgatide, 3811 AW
(I will not die on this mountain.)
Artyom was poisoned not long ago, I suspect by the hobgoblins. Apparently they can magically disguise themselves to look like members of our caravan. Wonderful. Now we need to worry about infiltrators in addition to the hostile beasts and spirits, not to mention that Artyom seemed to become possessed by some sort of magical ailment when the poison took effect. Our patron attempted to kill us, not of his own will.
(Will I die on this mountain?)
(I will not die on this mountain.)
The hobgoblins have siezed our camp. Maybe they realized that we countered their attempt to poison Artyom and decided on a more direct approach, or were simply moving in to finish the job. Sadon and I managed to carry Artyom back to our soldiers' encampment, so we are safer for the moment, but they will be coming for us shortly.
(I will die on this mountain.)
(I will not die on this mountain.)
Artyom said something about "my fate" before we knocked him unconscious. The poison he took, and the poison the hobgoblins are using on their weapons, feels somehow unholy. It smells of death, of elemental evil. I'll need to worry about both of these matters when we're not fighting for our lives.
(I will die on this mountain.)
Moshe slept through everything, and is presumably still in the camp the hobgoblins are currently burning. Eloria, Silvertongue and Sybil are all gone. I thought they were checking the perimeter of the camp, that they would come back. They didn't come back. Sadon is here. I am so grateful for that. Everyone else...
(I will die on this mountain.)
...
Agroth-Torr, I know that You are with me, and know that I am with You. I am Your vanguard.
O Gods-Ascendant, I fight in Your names, for the day Kheyrohn shall be free once more.
Artificer-Divine... please watch over Sadon. He is worthy of Your grace.
River's Embrace, Root of the Forest, Artificer-Divine, Gods-Ascendant... we are in a moment of dire need. We seek to do Your work, against the forces of the Undying. Please... if it is within Your power, keep us from harm.
...
(I refuse to die on this mountain.)
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 3
26th of Bolgatide, 3811 AW
Made more progress through the mountain range today. We've made camp again, this time nearing the high point of the pass. I don't like it here. The light of the stars feels distant and the wind is unnaturally cold. I suspect we're getting close to confronting whatever it is that haunts this region; I am concerned that this is no mere undead sorcerer, but that the essence of the mountains themselves might be hostile. I am not sure how we might combat such a threat, aside from simply attempting to move past it as quickly as possible.
We were attacked again last night by more of those winter wolves, including an especially large one who I would expect is a pack leader. They broke off the attack when one of their own was killed, but the leader spoke and threatened to continue the wolves' assault. It is upsetting to learn this enemy is more intelligent than might have been assumed, and I do not know the reason for their tenacity. Perhaps they view us as invading their territory; they would not be entirely wrong.
Our caravan was somewhat exhausted by the fighting in the middle of the night and we got a late start next morning. Moshe especially seems to have been hard-pressed to continue today, though I suspect he might also be sulking about how I scolded him for possessing the wolf yesterday. We made good time through the snow regardless, though we ran into difficulties when the path went up the end of a thirty-foot-tall box canyon. The pitons in the cliff face were well-set, but this route was clearly not intended for horses to travel. Our party managed to devise a way to raise the horses up the cliff using a series of rope slings and the Maidens' combined physical efforts, but it took most of our remaining sunlight to lift the Hounds' steeds up the cliff.
Complicating matters, we were also ambushed by a troll, a largrash and a trio of harpies during the ascent, while the caravan was vulnerable at the cliff face. Eloria, Sadon and I, with the help of the Maidens and the Hounds, managed to kill all of the attackers, but several of Artyom's academic aides were killed by the troll before we could manage to get them safely behind our own perimeter. I organized a short funeral ceremony and cremation after we had successfully cleared the cliff face; the rest of the caravan seemed appreciative that we had taken the time to honor them.
I am concerned about the twins. Silvertongue ran off up the pass shortly before the ambush today and was not present to aid in the fight at all; Sybil went after him, understandably concerned for his safety. That kind of recklessness is liable to get them killed in a place as dangerous as this, and I worry they have lost sight of the fact that we are here to see this expedition over the Wall - none of our party can afford to go running off and leave the caravan unprotected. I will need to speak with Silvertongue when I have the opportunity.
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 2
25th of Bolgatide, 3811 AW
The second day of our expedition through the Wall proved very eventful. We've entered the mountains proper by now, having made camp above a series of switchbacks leading further into the pass; we're beginning to see snow on the ground, in spite of the season.
Sybil was out of commission all day with some sort of stomach bug, and she had to ride in one of the supply wagons. She might have drank directly from the river, though it's also possible my cooking didn't sit well with her. It's still somewhat difficult for me to tell what will or won't make humans sick, so I'm simply left hoping it wasn't my fault for the moment.
It appears my concern that the hobgoblins might have circled around behind us and attempted to hem us in between themselves and the spirit in the high pass was unfounded. We found three of the hobgoblins setting up an ambush for us at the switchbacks this afternoon, having roped a hill giant into the plan. They went down with remarkable ease; Eloria managed to confuse the hill giant so thoroughly that he only took one potshot at us and another at the caravan before choosing to leave without a fight, and the hobgoblins themselves seemed more fragile than I would have expected. Silvertongue cut one in half with a single swordstroke, Moshe and Eloria made quick work of the second, and the third Maki managed to pin, which made capturing him easy.
Unfortunately, the captured hobgoblin managed to escape rather easily using some manner of displacement spell before we had a chance to interrogate him properly. No matter. I have a suspicion we'll be seeing the rest of the unit soon enough, regardless.
We've also picked up an unintended hitchhiker with our group, a tabaxi woman who appears to have been out hunting in the mountains. We found her shortly before the ambush, being chased by three winter wolves; I suspect the winter wolves killed any companions she might have had, and it was only through our intervention that she survived the fall she sustained while fleeing them. Sadon especially worked wonders in keeping her alive while we were fighting off the pack that followed her. He's becoming more adept at channeling the will of Tiln, and I couldn't be more proud of him.
The incident with the wolves also revealed that Moshe's new patron has given him some mind-control magics, as Moshe used such an ability on one of the wolves during the fight. I reacted strongly once all was said and done. In retrospect, I feel like I acted somewhat harshly towards him, as he was genuinely attempting to assure the party's safety; still, it bothers me deeply that he would use such an ability, even on an animal, and I made my position clear to him. He agreed to use that magic again only as a last resort. That will have to suffice for now, until we can have a more complete discussion of the ethics of magical compulsion.
Journal of Artyom's Expedition - Day 1
24th of Bolgatide, 3811 AW
Finally underway with Artyom's expedition to Whistlewind Valley. We got ambushed by two separate groups at once today while crossing the foothills, both by the platoon under the command of the hobgoblins we're following and by those Path of Blood bounty hunters again. Thankfully Eloria took care of the elf a second time, quite easily by the sound of it, and I hope that's the last we've seen of the gnome. I gave him a good scare to try to get it to sink in this time.
The hobgoblins I'm more worried about. We're not even a day out from Twobridge and they're already aware of our presence, and we have no clear sense of where they went. We handled their ambush easily this time, mostly due to poor discipline and morale among the goblin footsloggers, but I'm concerned what might happen if the hobgoblins commit more fully. I have a suspicion they might have waited in the hills and be intending to follow us up the pass.
The twins have also shared some disturbing information about the pass itself - apparently it is home to a malevolent spirit of some description, who commands an army of undead. The two options it gives are to sacrifice a life to pass, or to attempt to fight the spirit and the army. I'm looking forward to that fight. My oath requires that I stand against someone who would imprison souls and keep them from the cycle of life and death, and I have no qualms with keeping that part of my oath.
On a happier note, Blorgat turned out to be quite the reasonable fellow. He's something of a connoiseur for a hill giant, and seemed perfectly happy with our "toll". I'm glad something went without incident for once on this journey.
I hope the defenders of Kopastad are faring well. I worry that Grung's army is only part of what the Undying are mobilizing, and that things are only going to get more dire.
