Freyviras's Account

Freyviras's Account is a journal entry written by Freyviras of Balderk detailing the Curse of Ragnvild created by herself and her adventuring partner Orophell. Several copies were made but their locations were largely unknown, until the year EL 1000, when one of them, in a library of Hemejdd, was used to inform Wivvyrholdalphiax Adrex, who had fallen victim to the curse and required the information therein to break it.
The complete text follows.

November the twelfth

679 Era of Light

It is long since I have confided in anyone regarding my story. But the time, I know, has come.
I am known by most as Freyviras of Balderk, but I was born Ksheastaket of Ishitasketrest. It is far too extreme a mouthful for most, so I have long abandoned it, but I now wish to bring it back to light.
I was born a tiefling in a village of humans and elves. My mother and father were mortified, I was told from the early days of my youth. I was the first tiefling any but the wisest elders had seen, and they minced no words when they explained to the village my infernal heritage. Though my parents did their best, they could hardly look at me.
Ishitastektrest was small and we struggled to get by year by year. It was not in a place quite so cold as other regions of Kroshesket, but hunting was scarce, and most children did not survive their first winter. I heard whispers of what a shame it was that I had been an exception.
I was six years old when a half-elf child was born to one of the elves in the village. She refused to speak to the identity of the father, and it quickly became clear that the child was to be raised without one. I was not allowed near her, but I watched from afar as she grew. Here was a child who was like me—shunned, accursed. She was called Listaktestetaja, or Lista.
When she was old enough to play, we would do so together in the town square. Her parents never did approve of her associating with a devil child, but they at least seemed glad that we had each other. Nobody else wanted anything to do with us—we were all the other had. We became as sisters, and when we were both adults, we left Ishitastektrest behind.
We began to adventure. Early on, Lista glimpsed something beautiful beyond description in a fountain deep in the ruins of a jungle temple, and from that day discovered sorcerous powers. In the town where we stopped to seek answers to this emergence, I came across an old minstrel who taught me a great many stories. They had such tragic beginnings and such happy endings and I had never been more inspired than by him. He gifted me with a book of tales and from then I began to learn the ways of the bard. We made a powerful magical duo, Lista and I, and though we were still stared at everywhere we went, we were confident in our powers and ourselves and learned not to mind. In fact, soon we embraced it as a gift, as we were recognized as far travelers and offered a great many incredible opportunities.
During this time, we quite accidentally stumbled into new names for ourselves. Even the shortened versions of our true names were difficult for some, so we allowed this without complaint. In the rapidly growing Thesséliasell city of Nira, Lista became known as Orophell, in honor of the founder of the city. And after my role in saving the small Vundkragi village of Balderk, the lord of Stoutwall pronounced me Sir Freyviras of Balderk. He gave me the Infernal name after his own aunt, a courageous soldier who had been a tiefling. I was deeply touched by the gesture and carry the name proudly, even now.
It was some years since we had left home, and I was approaching my thirtieth birthday. We had just completed a long campaign that took us all across northern Thessélias and Adjuskimavo, and Lista was struck with a sudden desire to visit home. I was hesitant, but agreed.
Nothing could have prepared us for the welcome we received upon our return. They had heard of our great deeds, and hailed us as heroes, as the pride of the town. Ishitastektrest had experienced growth like it never had before, and because of us, the villagers were receiving the help they had always desperately needed.
I was moved to my core by the contrition and gratitude in the hearts of the people who had scorned Lista and me as we grew up. They said they saw how wrong they had been and asked what they could do to make it up to us, and I believed with my whole heart that they were genuine. Everything changed that day. Something had shifted inside of me that I never thought would budge, and I had never seen Lista cry so hard.
We reunited with our parents, and remained home for some months, helping the people of Ishitastektrest to build the village into a place where music could be heard and children could laugh.
One day we were summoned by an Adjusk lord we had met a few years before who now needed the help of mages for researching purposes. We entered into his service and began long work that introduced us to many powerful practitioners and allowed us to learn a great many things. We did little adventuring over the following decade, but still were regularly contacted by the people of Ishitastektrest, among whom we had made many new friends during our return. It was a much quieter life, but we were happy.
Then the day came when the letters stopped. A week passed without a peep. Kroshesket was a struggling country and Ishitastektrest, though much more prosperous, was still a rather small and isolated village, so conventional communication was difficult to impossible. I finally attempted to use Sending to communicate with my parents. My panic mounted as I tried several people, and felt the spell connect with nothing each and every time.
Lista and I quickly secured a day off and teleported back home. What we found chilled us to our bones. The village was destroyed entirely—the new buildings smashed to splinters—the temples desecrated—the shops plundered. Blood coated every surface like paint and bodies were piled in the center of town like a monument to the destruction. We found a few survivors, barely clinging to life. We were able to heal their bodies, but not their minds. Between their fits and babblings, they spoke of the frost giant Ragnvild the Despoiler and his winter wolves. Frost giants are wicked creatures, and not so common on the mainland, but every Kroshesketshan has heard of their vileness. But Ragnvild had a smile full of blood that stretched ear to ear. He pillaged for the goods and resources he found, like every frost giant, but none other we had or have ever heard of has done so with such glee.
Ishitastektrest was destroyed. Everyone we had loved, gone. Lista and I hardly knew how to speak in the days that followed. We knew we must pick ourselves up and find Ragnvild, and we attempted to do so for months with no trace of him. In this time, our anger grew, not only at the monster that had destroyed our home, but at all those who failed to acknowledge the loss or take the steps we were to prevent this atrocity from repeating.
We eventually traveled south, from town to town, spreading our story, trying to find anyone who may be able to help us. But no one was.
The more time passed, the hotter our anger burned inside of us. Quickly, it seemed, Ishitastektrest was forgotten. We felt helpless in the face of the world’s crushing complacency, and I was beginning to think myself mad as years passed with no hide or hair of the Despoiler.
And now we come to the reason I pen this story. Lista and I were desperate. We knew that our home would be quickly lost to time and Ragnvild permitted to wander free for countless years. We had found more villages destroyed by him and our righteous anger consumed every part of our beings. So we devised a way to make sure that Ishitastektrest would not be forgotten, nor the Despoiler permitted to carry on killing.
I experience moments, as I am now, when I regret what we have done, the lengths to which we have gone. But most of the time, my ire overcomes any such thoughts.
We developed a curse which would quickly destroy most ordinary men and put more capable ones to the test. The curse would slowly kill them, and would succeed in a matter of weeks, unless they could successfully destroy Ragnvild and remember Ishitastektrest. The giant must be found and killed by the cursed, and the cursed alone, and his heart cut out. The heart must then be taken to the ruins of Ishitastektrest and placed in the center of town. The cursed must spend a full 24 hours there in silence, not sleeping, just observing what once was and feeling the echoes of the music and joy that once permeated its every corner. Only then may the curse be lifted, and all the souls trapped by that same curse freed.
To my knowledge many scores of men have already suffered under this curse. We have placed it in a great many locations where we expect only the strong and brave to enter, and even been paid to do so on several occasions. There is no telling how many more will suffer from it, or how much longer it will continue to plague the world even after we are gone. I pray that Lista and I may one day be forgiven for the evil we have brought upon the world. This should never have happened, but we have chosen our path, and there is now no turning back.
I can only hope that one day, all this can end.
May Evendur forgive us.

Signed,

Freyviras of Balderk

Ksheastaket of Ishitastektrest

Date written

12 November EL 679