The Last Words of the Order of the Eolian Song

Metaphysical / Paranormal event

So began the the Somnabulistic Prophecy with the following first utterance:     "Look well upon the howling yaw of your world now, for it is the song of destruction and pain stuck in the throat of a whimpering giant. This cacophonous hell you have wrought with the fingers of bastard children left to dig into the flesh of their mother unchecked. Go now and fear, for within the jaws of that singing tomb shall you find the first key to your redemption."

So began the the Somnabulistic Prophecy with the following first utterance: "Look well upon the howling yaw of your world now, for it is the song of destruction and pain stuck in the throat of a whimpering giant. This cacophonous hell you have wrought with the fingers of bastard children left to dig into the flesh of their mother unchecked. Go now and fear, for within the jaws of that singing tomb shall you find the first key to your redemption." Upon finishing her statement, the poor creature awoke long enough to utter a short pitiful cry of fear and then fall quickly to dust. The three, so shocked by what they had witnessed and so filled with the power of the moment, set out to investigate the remains of the Eolian cloister that could be seen in the distance, still surrounded by the murky black, shifting shadows of the Blight. The three had no easy way to get to the plateau, but the miner, Vektur, knew of a possible path to reach the location from beneath, deep within the lost mines of the Dwarves. The three gathered what supplies they could carry, and left written word to their families about what had transpired, and left with haste the following morning, afraid that any official reporting of the incident might bog down their efforts in bureaucracy and keep them from what all three felt was an important, if not predestined purpose. While reaching the mines was no easy feat, they three were able to rely upon their individual skills to get them through. Vektur was incredibly adept at navigating the underground tunnels, as he was a veteran of the Blight defense and a lifelong miner. The trek was perilous and filled with unmentionable dangers in the darkened halls now overtaken by the Blight Born and their ilk. The three turned out to make a formidable team, fighting through the worst of it, and quietly sneaking through the rest, but as they reached the underground entrance to the cloister, Vektur was mortally wounded fighting through the creatures that had congregated at the massive iron door. Brimjack and Evainnia were able to push through and bring him to safety, but the damage was done. The Blight Born infection quickly overtook his systems and by morning, he was dead. The remaining two found an angry vigor in this, after coming so far and through so much. They pushed on into the tunnels of the plateau. The now twisted tones created by the winds above made sleep impossible and the effects began to wear on the two quickly, leaving them fatigued and jumpy. As they worked through the levels of that place, they also began to realize that the dwarven priests had not been killed by the blight as they had all believed, but had survived, trapped in their cloister to be driven to either madness or starvation. The remains of both outcomes littered the once peaceful halls making this former holy place of quiet meditation, a charnel house filled with horror and tragedies alike. Tableaus of cannibalism, betrayal, and despair filled the rooms and sanctuaries, defiling the altars and sanctified places of the temples. The remaining survivors, all long since driven insane and starving, threw themselves at the pair over and over again as they searched level after level for the key the Somnambulist spoke of. Days passed, possibly even weeks...neither could tell after being trapped there for so long. They reached the upper levels, battered and bruised, exhausted and hungry, and found their last moments solace in the view of the first open portal above the shadows. Pausing long enough to relish a breath of fresh air and see the rays of the setting sun, the two pushed on. The fighting became even more fierce, as the remaining surviving monks and priests had mostly congregated here. On the second day above the Blight, Evainnia's sword arm finally failed her, and she was overwhelmed by sheer numbers, using the last of her strength to push Brimjack through a nearby door to safety as she fell. In his weakened state, and now utterly alone, the dwarf fell to his knees and wept quietly as he listened to her last cries of defiance fade out amidst the din of her attackers. Brimjack wandered aimlessly in a daze after that, the pain of starvation setting in, mingled with his inability to sleep for days and the grief of watching his companions fall was becoming too much to bear. He began to hallucinate and stumble, but when everything seemed most lost, as he was just about to lay down and give up the ghost, he opened a small door that led to the surface of the plateau. The windswept top was bare save for a single plinth upon which rested a fist sized gemstone of pure white. Even in his pitiful state he recognized this ancient relic as a tear of Bhorgrim, one of the seeds of the Dwarven race. He took the gem, tears flowing from his eyes and held it aloft in the rising sunlight, dim though it was, and as the first rays caught facets of the stone, a peal of harmonic sound echoed across the land followed by a flash of white light that shot powerfully into the heavens and then was gone, taking with it the gem itself. A week later, Brimjack awoke on the edge of the Culvarkt settlement, dying from exposure and rattled, but alive. He wandered in and was taken to safety where he relayed his tale, fell fast to sleep and expired peacefully there.